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spookykoolkat · 7 months

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kinktober | the man in apartment 6a - j.m.

kinktober day three - dumbification

pairing: older!joel miller x younger!plus size!reader

wc: 9.0k

summary: your older, grumpier yet handy neighbor can hear everything that goes on in the comfort of your pink four walled bedroom, simply because shitty apartment buildings made the walls so thin.

warnings: 18+ ONLY! minors are NEVER welcomed. pervy!joel, creepy!joel, older!joel, JOEL IS WARNING IN HIMSELF LOL, mentions of self loathing, uncomfortable sex (not with joel), marijuana use, alcohol use, fingering, oral (f receiving), manhandling, degradation (slight), creampie/breeding, pet names (sweet girl, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, dumb, stupid, daddy), a little bit of ass eating (whoops), raw penetration (p in v) *wrap it up pls*, aftercare

reblogs, likes and comments are very very appreciated!

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IT WAS A FRIDAY NIGHT, work was tired, and you needed to take the edge off with a fat blunt and a full glass of wine. it was so quiet in the apartment complex you lived in that you might be the loudest one there, since three of your neighbors are older than 50.

so after you poured your bottle of wine into a glass, you turned your led lights under your coffee table on and the bulbs that are in your two lamps beside your couch. it was such a colorful scenery, you loved smoking and drinking like this with music or a movie on in the background. making sure to not turn the volume up too loud, or else joel would come knocking on your door asking you to turn it down.

joel was your neighbor in 6a and to you he always seemed like he had a thorn stuck in his ass cheek. he was a bitter old man who seemed like he hated fun, or maybe he just hated you.

but you didn’t care much. nothing was going to stop you from being you, being bubbly and optimistic. it makes no sense to you to sit solemnly and think about every wrong turn you’ve ever made, and yet it seems that’s all joel does.

he was always on edge, noticing the way he would flinch meeting you as the two of you locked your doors and headed off to work. you watched him from your window when he walked into the complex up the stairs, and noticed how he always had his jaw and fists clenched, head whipping in every direction before seemingly slipping inside his apartment and locking up.

it made you curious as to what made him so tense, so frustrated and even paranoid. you wished you were someone he could go to, to release all of his ugly emotions and thoughts onto you. maybe you were being young and naive, having irrational sex daydreams as you gathered your paraphernalia to roll a blunt. It was delusional, yes you knew that, but you couldn’t help but fantasize about your neighbor.

but you wanted him in every way. you didn’t care he was twice your age, and you didn’t care that he was about as introverted and mean as they come. he’s a real asshole. to you, you felt you were allowed these fantasies given he’d never be the type of man that would want you. i mean, you were young enough to be his daughter, and you weren’t so sure that he even liked bigger women.

shaking your thoughts of him, you hummed along to whatever song that was on your halloween playlist playing loudly. soon after it’s rolled, you spark it up and take hits of it as you throw your body back on the couch.

you feel at ease as you listen to your playlist and smoke your blunt, enjoying peace for a day. your hair was still wet from the shower you took, and your blunt was barely starting to form a good cherry when three bangs hit your door over the music that startled you.

you take a few more hits trying to get the most out of your blunt and ash it out quickly, yelling a choked out, i’m coming!!, over the music. you get up with your wine glass, walking barefoot to the door and opening it as your eyes meet a broad chest in a button up black and gray flannel, buttoned over a plain white t-shirt.

joel.

“uh, hey. what’s up?” you say, setting your glass down on your door side table.

“you told me your toilet wasn’t workin’? didya need me to take a look?” he asked as he unsubtly soaked in your attire. shit. you completely forgot your piece of shit toilet stopped flushing.

you noticeably had no bra on, and your tank top was resting at the curve of your waist with one strap off of your shoulder, showing off your plush body and midriff. he could almost see the hardening of your nipples when you opened the door.

“oh, right. i thought you meant you could do it like, monday.” you said, wishing to just relax tonight. he shook his head and looked back over your body, before meeting your eyes.

“i’m busy monday. it’s now or never,” he bargained with a hard tone and you rolled your eyes.

“of course, right, sorry. come in.” you said and moved out of the way to step inside your girly apartment. you went to your coffee table to grab the remote and turn the volume down a little on your tv.

“the restroom is-,” you start to say and go towards it until he cuts you off.

“i know where it is. i’ll be done in a bit,” he said coldly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. he renovated these apartments dumbass.

“alright.” you said and let him go to the back hall to find the restroom, and you released a breath.

you felt like you looked messy, you just got out of the shower and had no bra on, and didn’t have panties on either. you were embarrassed.

it was a free night for you and he had to barge in. of course. you decided to grab your wine and sit down on the couch, eyeing the blunt wishing you could be smoking it right now. instead you sip on your wine and scroll on your phone for maybe thirty minutes until he calls out for you.

“coming!” you replied a little too cheery, and walked to the back rooms to see him on his hands and knees trying to reach under the toilet with his tools sprawled out on your pink bath rug.

joel tried to hide the smile that grew when he heard your eager voice.

“yeah?” you asked and blushed at his image. he looked so sexy with his eyebrows furrowed, even sexier looking so manly in such a pink room. His dark colored clothes made an exciting difference in your bathroom.

joel quickly scaled you over, from your bare feet with black toenails up to your week old shaven legs, up your wide thighs, to the fat of your tummy and the curves of your breasts.

“you think i can have me a water bottle?” he asked, and you smiled, completely unaware he was thinking of bending you over the sink and making you watch yourself take all of him.

joel had a teensy crush on you the second he saw you at his doorstep.

you mustered up the strength to knock on two doors to be greeted by two elderly ladies, and introduce yourself as their neighbors while giving them cookies you baked for them.

you figured it was the best way to gain their trust and familiarity as you were going to be living here for a while. and while it worked on them, you weren’t so sure about your last neighbor. you were nervous. you hated socializing and to introduce yourself as the new person in the area, but the last door you knocked on was one that truly ruined your day.

the door swung open ferociously to present a tall broad figure with tan skin, eyes tired and hair all ruffled. you could tell he just woke up, and you instantly regretted it. the force of the door opening made you feel a gust of wind, and chills.

you were taught it was common courtesy to introduce yourself when you’re new somewhere, though it didn’t seem he was happy to see you at his doorstep all cheery and energized.

“uh, hi, i’m your neighbor in 6C, i just moved in and i just wanted to introduce myself,” you said and told him your name, with a small smile. he kind of just looked at you blankly, adjusting his eyes to your figure and face.

“i, uh i made cookies for everyone so, i thought i’d bring them by cus i just like to bake and i thought maybe it’d be a peace offering... it’s okay if not i just wanted to be nice,” you rambled looking into his brown eyes as you held the plate covered in foil out with your hands. he looked between the plate, you and next to him to look at the clock on his doorway table.

you were nervous, tapping your fingers on the plate and biting the inside of your cheek. he was so handsome. so manly.

“you’re knockin at my door at eight thirty in the morning ona saturday to give me some cookies?” he asked, making sure what was happening was real. it was a little comical to him, only seeing shit like this in the movies. but to him, you were cute. he knew he didn’t carry southern hospitality and kindness like most, like you.

“you don’t have to take them. just tryna be nice,” you mumbled and pulled your arms back, your texan accent almost as thick as his.

“Mmhmm, well i don’t need no cookies this mornin’,” he said surely. it kind of pissed you off honestly.

“forget about it,” you said and turned your head down, moving to the door next to his and opening it right before mumbling, “asshole,” and slamming your door shut.

you were just so cute, so lively that he was drawn to you. it was odd because joel’s taste in women usually ranged, but he’d never been so drawn to a woman who seemed so eager to take on the world everyday. joel wasn’t used to seeing people so happy to leave the comfort of their homes to go into the city and interact with people, he wasn’t used to people making small talk as you fetch the mail at the same time. but that was you.

he would just shake you off, mumble words to get you to stop being so cheerful and kind. he didn’t want you to waste your time on him, he didn’t deserve your kindness. you heard the small comments.

“so damn pink,”

“ya have to hum all the way down four flights of stairs?”

“you ever not dressed in glitter and ponies?”

which he over exaggerated, you just liked pink. you would ignore the mean comments, and you would force yourself to remember that he is a man of cutting down trees and building houses with his bare hands. whatever you think is manly, he is. he wore nothing but dark colors, denim, work boots, and still had the iphone eight which seemed like it was forced on him.

but this is the first time he spoke to you remotely nice, and asked you for anything.

“yeah, uh do you want like, ice or just room temp?” you asked a bit embarrassed, wondering if that was a dumb question to ask. and a small, very small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but it was so slight you almost gaslit yourself into seeing it.

“don’t matter sweetheart, whatever ya wanna get me,” he said and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing.

your tummy just fluttered at the small pet name as you pushed yourself off the door frame and moved to the kitchen.

never did you ever think you would hear a word like that come out of his mouth when referring to you.

you grabbed a water bottle and grabbed some ice chips with a scoop to pour it into a tall thermos. you took it straight to joel, and he faced you as you leaned down a bit to hand him the cup. from your stance, he could practically see down your shirt but only stole a small glance.

you couldn’t notice, you were just excited to do something nice for him.

“you need anything else?” you asked with your hands behind your back, your chest poking out a bit more and the light made it easy to see your nipples against the cloth.

“nah, i got all i need, you can go relax.” he said and went back to work as you walked off.

you wondered if there was a softness to his voice as you sat back down on the couch, turning your music up a little bit but not loud enough to get bitched at by joel. you figured he’d might be here for a bit given his outbursts of cursing because something wasn’t working with him, so you grabbed your blunt and lit it again. this was your apartment.

joel was frustrated enough from the stupid toilet. a bolt kept untightening every time he tried to flush, and it pissed him off enough but kept him busy as he smelled the scent of strong weed filling his nose. he knew he smelled it when he walked in, but now he can smell the smoke and hear your muffled coughs every once and a while.

he was actually a bit surprised, for some reason you didn’t seem like the type to partake. he knows in his days he did, so he wasn’t judging you at all, it just didn’t seem like something a girl like you would do. you seemed so… behaved.

he ended up managing to find the bolt he was looking for because it fell somewhere and skidded across the restroom floor.

joel didn’t mind working on things for the neighbors in his complex, he was really the only one that was able to fix almost everything in sight. he was never bothered by it either, in the back of his mind he wanted to feel like he was needed. like he could do some type of good for people even if he was closed off and cold. his hands were godsend, and in many ways.

but he’d always see things maybe the resident wouldn’t want him to see, like a box of condoms or a sex toy. it didn’t bother him, he’d just ignore it.

but here he was, still and frozen as he finally found the bolt laying on a pair of red panties that were laid on your floor like you just had these on. and you did.

you managed to get all of your clothes in the hamper except the pair of panties you had on, you actually thought maybe it was in the tangles of your clothes. but no. there they were, and he was on his way to losing his mind. he couldn’t move, he just stared at the red high cut panties that even had a black bow on the trim.

he couldn’t stop himself. before he knew it, he grabbed your underwear and almost inspected them quickly before taking them, pushing the fabric into his nose and breathing in your musk, and folding them to put in his back pocket. he felt drunk on you already. he knew it was wrong, he knew he was probably a sick man. but he needed something from you, anything.

the opportunity showed itself, he just took it.

now, he still smelled you lingering on his nose, and imagined what your pussy looked like puffy and red for him. he wanted to fill you up completely and fuck you until you were sore and throbbing, he wanted to see those cute little glossy lips of yours kissing the tip of his cock and taking it in your throat like a fleshlight.

you were just perfect. so much for him to grab, kiss, and mark. he wanted your eyes to watch him devour you whole, and he craved to watch you break for him.

he knew he was a creep. he didn’t care. joel never acted on his desires and his pervy ways, until now, when really he wanted to do it all. whenever you came out to the mailboxes the same time as he did, he wanted to get his phone and sneak pictures of you, under your skirts more specifically.

he was thinking of if you’ve ever fucked yourself here in this very restroom he’s crouched in, thinking of the way your leg would lift to rest on some vantage point, fingering your hole until you fought to stand upright again. he imagined you walking in a little white towel back to your room, drying off and getting dressed in front of him. his cock was throbbing at the image, pairing it with the image of the red panties he stole.

he couldn’t work like this, not thinking of all of the ways he wanted to make you whine, make you squirm, make you cum.

he finally managed to fix the problem after 30 minutes and flushing once to test, smiling at his success. it was always satisfying seeing something broken be fixed, he was a problem solver, he loved the challenge. he cleaned up his area and picked up his tools, putting them in the bag and fixing himself before he washed his hands and wiped them down with a towel, leaving the restroom to see you puffing a small roach of your blunt.

“y’know you shouldn’t be smokin in here,” he said and you jumped a bit, exhaling the last bit of smoke and ashing it out in your ashtray. you just looked at him with a small smile, but realizing this is your apartment. he can’t tell you what to do.

“oh, well i mean, i thought… i mean it’s my apartment, so,” you said as you blushed, feeling like you’re in trouble now.

“don’t worry yourself, darlin’. i ain’t gonna tell on you,” he suggested and you blushed, somehow even more.

“would you want like, a drink? the least i can do,” you said as you grabbed a dos equis from your fridge and walked up to him, handing it to him. he was hesitant at first, really in deep thought about whether he should accept this or not. was it opening a door? he hoped so.

“thanks,” he said and took it from you, not looking at the green bottle at all. he put his tools down on the small table you had in your kitchen and followed you to sit on the loveseat on the right side of the living room.

“it’s joel by the way, no one calls me mr. miller,” he said as he took a swig. you nodded and responded ohh, moving to drink more of your wine. you ended up changing your music to a horror movie and kept your eyes trained on that instead of his eyes. you felt him watching you, every breath you took, every blink, every lip bite.

“so who lived here before me?” you asked to break the silence, looking to him from the movie. his eyes were already on you, you just met them. you figured you’d make some sort of conversation if he was going to sit there and drink a beer. who drinks together silently?

“nother’ older lady, she was a good neighbor,” he trailed and drank from his beer. you quirked your eyebrows, drinking from the wine glass and keeping it by your side.

“am i not a good neighbor?” you asked sweetly, genuinely curious. he refrained himself from getting up from his seat and showing how good of a neighbor you really were to him.

“you are, just a little loud from time to time.” he admitted, more so talking about your unsatisfying experiences with the men you bring him.

“am i? i’m sorry, i’ll try to keep it down,” you said softly, almost embarrassed and you looked at your fingers tapping on the rim of the wine glass.

“s’alright, it ain’t too distracting.” he lied. of course it was distracting. he was begging to know what you sounded like when you were really enjoying yourself, how you looked under him and on top of him. how he imagined you in his room instead.

“still, i don’t wanna be that neighbor that’s annoying,” you said and looked back up at him to where he’s sitting. “i feel like you hate me.” you finished.

he doesn't blame you. he doesn't make it easy for people to know him, or make a nice impression firsthand. he kind of feels bad for making you feel like that. but he was just not that friendly honestly, not that nice and not that comforting. at least he felt he was. he didn’t know how to be.

“it’s nothin’ personal,” he said and drank from his bottle again, letting his eyes trail over your body. you felt it, hell you saw it, and you still squirmed.

“i prefer to be by myself.” he said and you nodded, but he was still watching you.

“i see. i understand now, sorry for imposing most of the time.” you say with an apologetic smile, and he kind of smiled. it shocked you really to see any emotion other than anger and discomfort displayed on his face.

“you don’t bother me, not one bit.” he said to reassure you, but he wanted you to know you did far more than “bothering” him. you just smiled, blushing a bit at his confession.

“so is it just you living here?” you asked and saw his face look a little pained, and again you regret opening your mouth.

“uh, no actually. i have a sixteen year old i sort of adopted. just me and my daughter.” he said and you were a little shocked. how did you never manage to see her? or hear her?

“she goes on her own a lot, friends places, parties. i know she can handle herself so, she has my number if anything happens.” he answered your internal questions.

“that’s really sweet. i wished my parents did that. i kind of had to move away from them’ after i graduated. m’ not really on speaking’ terms with any of my family.” you admitted a little sadly, even though he didn’t ask. you seemed as though you could talk for hours if no one shut you up.

“i’m sorry to hear that,darlin’,” he said and continued to drink his beer until he finished it.

“it’s fine, i’m a lot happier now than i was before.” you said with a small smile, and drank from your wine glass. joel was glad you took the attention off of him and his daughter, not asking any questions about his situation. he appreciated it.

he just nodded, finishing his beer as you finished your wine and suddenly you were nervous. again. it was just you and him, in this colorfully lit room. you looked at him as he got up, and walked to the kitchen to grab his tools. no no wait wait you can’t leave, not yet.

“thank ya for the hospitality, i should go,” he said coldly and you almost scrambled to your feet to step in front of him.

“um, wait uh,” you tried to think of an excuse. anything. something to keep him here a little longer. he looked down at you, how flustered you were, how you looked like you were trying to come up with an excuse. you really even didn’t think it through, you were just acting on the pulsing in your shorts.

but suddenly, you got a bit insecure. you didn’t know joel’s type, and you wondered what the outcome would be of throwing yourself at him.

“yeah?” he asked and tilted his head, curious as to what you had to say. truth is, he didn’t wanna leave either. how could he wanna leave when you looked so desirable right now? he couldn’t even feel bad that he was practically 20 years older than you, he wanted to ruin you.

“um, nothing, m’ sorry.” you said. you admitted defeat. there was nothing you could’ve said or done to make him stay, at least that's what you thought.

“have a good night,” you said and he repeated it to you. you walked him out, shutting the door behind him.

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joel was still awake after his shower. not by choice. he was laying in his bed, checking the time on his clock that flashes at 2:30am, and back at the wall that connects the two of you. were you seriously this unaware at how loud you were?

he was thanking god that ellie wasn’t home, so she wouldn’t be hearing any of this either. but he was also wondering if you were even enjoying yourself in the first place.

after joel left, you felt this aching feeling that you couldn’t satisfy yourself so you just called a friend over. one that you really don’t know, and you don’t care about, but one that wanted to have sex with you just as bad as you wanted to have sex with joel.

one thing led to another and there you are once again, laying in bed as this guy poorly ate you out and uncomfortably fingered you. it just didn’t feel right, and at this point you were hoping he was done. your fake moans rang through the apartment again, wondering if you were over or under selling it. to the lanky guy between your legs, you were selling it just fine.

you even tried thinking of joel being the one sliding into you as this guy did, but you doubted he'd be this painfully terrible at sex. it didn’t feel enjoyable, it just felt like blindly jabbing at your cervix. not even 10 minutes later, that man is out your door and you're back in bed, feeling miserable with yourself.

you wanted for once to have a good sexual encounter, constantly feeling ugly and used. these men didn’t even care about you and didn’t care if you were satisfied, and you hated yourself for it. the physical intimacy you wanted seemed like it was something you wouldn’t be able to find.

you craved a man’s touch even if you hated it or not, maybe blaming it on your daddy issues or just blaming the fact that you looked for the wrong things in the wrong thing. you wanted comfort and protection and looked for it in sex.

you wanted joel. you wanted him since you moved in despite him being a dick. you wanted to know how it felt to be protected by him, to be held by him, to be wanted by him. and you wanted it so bad, you started crying. loudly, at that.

in the moment, joel felt like he was imposing on your privacy. he felt bad listening to your muffled cries like this, and he wanted to do everything he could to help you. he knew so little about your family situation, but to him you had no family. he never saw you with friends, he only saw you with a new man every week. he wanted to comfort you, to show you that he and you were more alike than you thought.

he heard it stop for about twenty minutes all of the sudden, and then something bump into the wall he was staring at. then, it started again.

you just laid there after your shower, now softly crying and sniffling as you heard a soft knocking on your front door. you got a little scared, so you wiped your tears fast and slipped on the shorts you had on to go open your door. it was dark in the main room, only a small orange lighting shining in front of your windows. you even noticed finally that it was actually pouring rain outside.

“who is it?” you said a little loudly, too nervous to peek through the hole. you fiddled with your polished black nails before the person answered.

“it’s joel,” he said and you paused.

“joel?” you asked.

you quickly unlocked your door to open it enough to peek your head out.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, looking up at him. you scanned over his attire, now barefoot and in a simple black shirt and pajama pants. his head was whipping right and left, seeing if anyone else was in the hall to see him.

now, he was the one that was nervous. what was he doing here? what did he think was going to happen? if he played it right, everything he ever wanted.

“can i come in?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck and you gulp, opening the door wider to allow his broad figure in your home. your eyes were trained down, refusing to let him look at you.

“can i get you something? water?” you asked, still not facing him and turning a lamp on next to your couch and moving past him until he grabs your wrist firmly. you still, and you have no choice but to look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

“i can hear, y’know,” he said, paying attention to your tear stained face as you slowly looked up to him.

“hear? hear what?” you said unknowingly.

“everything. i can hear the guys you bring home, i can hear you moanin’, i can hear you cryin’,” he said, pulling you closer to him. by now you were almost to his chest as he grabbed your other wrist and held you tight.

“i-,” you began but you felt humiliated. you didn’t realize he could really hear everything, that he heard everything that transpired in your room tonight.

“did he make you cry?” he asked grimly, his eyes dark and his stare serious.

he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to hurt you, your breath just caught in your throat because you were nervous. nervous to admit to anything.

“no, he didn’t, he didn’t do anything to me,” you said and looked down at his hands gripping your flesh.

“it doesn’t matter. i’m just really sorry, i didn’t know that’s what you meant earlier. i’m sorry it won’t happen again.” you apologized with tears in your eyes. the guy who you fucked wasn’t even worth all of this embarrassment that flooded you.

“then why’re you cryin, sweet girl?” he asked, moving his hand to your chin so you can look up at him.

“i, it’s nothing, i’m sorry for waking you up,” you said and blinked your tears away, your hands falling to your side when he released you. you just stood there though, his hand on your cheek while his thumb rubbed circles into your face.

“it ain’t nothin. he wasn’t makin’ you feel good? made you feel bad?” his southern accent was thick in this tone, but for some reason you felt at ease. better now that he was here.

“he made me feel bad,” you were too nervous to lie, he already heard you through the wall.

“i know, baby, i know,” he said. you really couldn’t move, the words coming from his mouth were insane to you. you couldn’t fathom the fact that he was talking like this, to you. his hands slid to grip your hips, to feel the way they curve into your waist, resting at the small of your back so that now you’re pressed against his body.

“i never hated ya,” he said, his face getting closer to yours to where you could feel his breath on your lips. while your breathing was faltered and shaky, his was calm and collected. he wasn’t nervous anymore, he was determined.

“actually, i think i like you more than i’d like t’ admit,” he whispered, moving his lips to your ear and your neck.

“what are you talkin’ about?” you breathed. your arms just went slack, you didn’t know what to do with them, if you should finally touch him and feel his hard chest, feel his body the way he feels yours, or if you just want to accept that this is a dream.

you finally move your hands to his waist and grip tightly onto his shirt, almost like if you let go you’ll fall.

“i know you feel the same, darlin’. i can hear you, remember? i can hear you callin’ for me, moanin’ for me when you touch yourself.” your breath shook slightly and he smiled against your neck, moving his hands up your back.

and the only thing you can say, that your brain can think of, is to apologize.

“none of that, don’t do that. tell me sweetheart, do ya want me to make you feel good?” he asked, and you pulled his body closer to yours.

“do, um, do you want to do that?” you were so unsure of all this. did he truly like you? did he truly find you attractive? you never failed to question men’s sincerity, was this just for pleasure or was this emotional?

“my sweet baby, if i ever say no to you like that, i’ve gone fuckin’ senile,” he groaned against your neck.

“y’know how many times i've thought about being between these legs of yours?” there was nothing else that could’ve made you as wet as you were right now, you heard the roughness of his texas accent, the lust mixing with desire. he wanted nothing but you.

“been wantin’ t’ ruin those little skirts you wear. jus’ wanna watch you fall apart on my cock,” your eyes widened and you felt a pool of arousal coat your cunt. you’d never been talked to like this, the crudeness of his words sliced whatever tension there was, and you gave in.

his lips moved down your neck and to your chest as you pant against him, your body pressed into a wall near the hallway that leads to your bedroom and restroom. he pressed against you enough so you could feel the hardening bulge on your thigh and he could feel the softness of your breasts pushed into him. while kissing your neck and shoulder, he moved your hand to feel his hardness while grunting a bit into your skin.

“you feel what ya do to me? you see how i get for ya?” he asked, and you whimpered a bit feeling how large he really was through his pajama pants. he pulled away from you a bit and looked down at his hand on top of yours, your own hand voluntarily softly massaging his cock.

“fuck, sweetheart, you know,” he cooed, smoothing your hair down and grabbing the nape of your neck to crane it back, “you know exactly what that pretty face does to me,”

he tilted your head to look at him, to be close enough to his face to feel his breath on your face.

“tell me you want me, honey,” he said sweetly, looking between your eyes and your lips. you just kept your eyes on his while he examined you.

“i, i want you,” you said in a whisper and blushed. joel smiled to himself, another smile you’d never seen, and slid down against your body and grabbed the back of your thighs, urging you to jump and instinctively you did.

only he made you forget you were three times the size of a skinny woman.

“joel, wait i’m too heavy for this wait,” you said but he stayed put, didn’t move, didn’t talk. he just stared at you.

“ain’t no such thing as too heavy, princess, i’ll still pick you up and fuck you stupid,” he assured, playfully tapping your ass as he carried you all the way to your room, laying you on your back. you swore he could feel the pulsing of your cunt against his abdomen.

he brought you to your room, dark and quiet with the help of your small lamp illuminating your face as he laid you down on your back, falling with you.

“gonna let me see you, baby? let me see all of this,” he said lowly, crawling to straddle you and put his hands on your tummy, groping and massaging.

“i-,” you said, out of breath already and joel smirked. he was loving you like this. so dumb and innocent for him.

“you’re jus’ the sweetest little thing, baby,” he said as his eyes roamed your body. “gotta use your words, baby, let me hear that pretty voice, tell me what you want,” he said again.

“touch me, anywhere, p-please,” you whimpered out enough and he hummed in satisfaction.

his fingers creeped up your stomach, leaving a burn with their trail and acted like he was going to help you out of it, but instead he bends down and grips the center of your tank top with two hands and careful to not hurt you, but fast and swift, he rips the weak cloth in half.

“what, joel oh-” you said and joel’s fingers wrapped around your throat with no pressure, and held you in place as his eyes trailed over your body again, his other hand roughly moved the two halves of your tank to either side.

“what did he do that you didn’t like, baby?” he asked you as he stayed on top, playing with your breasts by squeezing and pushing them together, only thinking impurely about you.

you couldn’t think of anything as he felt you up as he pleased, his calloused hands rubbing your smooth skin, tugging and pinching your nipples to watch them harden and extend just for him.

“just,”

“he, ugh,”

he laughs. “can’t even talk while i play with these pretty titties? goin’ dumb already baby?”

“mmmph,” you couldn’t muster any words. it was a new feeling, feeling lightheaded and only drunk off of joel.

“please, fuck me,” you whimpered, moving your hands to play with his waistband and try to tug at it. but he stopped you quickly, never letting you even grab a hold of the fabric when he grabs your wrists.

“need you to tell me exactly what you want, can you do that?” he asked you and you whined, squirming with his hands still locking you in place.

you looked up at him, his eyes only on yours and his cock straining against his pajama pants. “fingers,”

it’s all you mustered and he accepted it, moving down a little to move his fingers down into your panties and spreading your legs with his. his fingers immediately felt heat when he spread your cunt and moved down to your hole, teasing and prodding in your arousal.

“baby’s so wet for me, yeah? you ever thought about me, honey?” he asked you as he looked between you and where his fingers hid in your shorts, waiting for an answer. you were a whimpering mess, soft breaths and pants falling from your lips with every touch.

“mhm,” you mustered, clenching your eyes shut when his middle finger circled your hole and pushed his palm against your clit, “always wanted you,”

if you weren’t so dizzy, you probably would’ve scorned yourself for saying that. but he was amused, moving his scruffy cheek to glide against yours and leave kissing on your neck.

“thought about you too, pretty girl. just so damn cute all the fuckin’ time, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how you’d look taking my cock,” you whined at his words, trying to shut your legs to stop the pressure but he just shook his head and pried them apart. your hands were tight on his wrist, begging him to let up as he fucks you with two fingers and uses your slick to rub circles over your clit.

“r-really?” you asked through choked moans, your body lifting up to watch him finger you. he chuckled softly, “yeah, sweetheart. can’t stop thinkin’ about ya,”

he pauses before taking your shorts and panties off quickly, spreading your legs further and throwing them over his own spread thighs you went back to gripping at your sheets, your body responding to every touch as he spread your cunt even more and spit on it.

“you want me to fuck this pretty hole, baby?” he asked, watching your slick cover his hand as he curled his fingers inside of you. you were a mess, incoherent, making sounds and guttural noises as he brought you closer to your edge. all you could do was nod erratically and try to close your legs.

“i’m gonna need you to cum for me then, sweetheart. needa’ see this little cunt cum for me,” he growled, his other hand pulling his pajama pants down, easily taking them off.

“i, i-,” you choked, your chest tight as you watched him abuse your pussy and watched as his eyes flashed quickly. he managed to lift your lower half up in the air by your ass cheeks, bringing your core to his mouth and pulling you closer to him so he could taste you.

“daddy,” you moaned as he pulled away with a harsh breath.

“‘s that right? that’s what you like, baby? want daddy to make you feel real good? go fuckin’ stupid on my cock?” he taunted, his words making your stomach flutter and your clit throb.

you whimpered a small yes, but you couldn’t think. you’d say yes to anything he offered. you’d take anything he gave you. he didn’t even have to ask, you wanted him to give you anything he wanted. he went back to lapping at your cunt, slurping up any of your juices that ran down your crack, licking at your unused hole that puckered for him.

it was a new feeling, something no one had done but the way he lapped at both holes made your orgasm build ten times faster, and soon you felt it creeping down your shoulders and sending a cold chill down to your toes. it was blinding, the noises you made were yelps and gasps as if the air had been knocked out of you.

your entire body shook within his grasp and his mouth never let go of your overstimulated bud, sending more of your juices to leak out of you nonstop. joel wasted no time to lick you all up and manage to strip naked, watching your body go through aftershocks of your orgasm and smiling.

“pretty girl, such a fuckin’ pretty girl,” he cooed, crawling between your legs again and grabbing you by your waist, flipping you onto tour tummy and chest as he helps you move to steady yourself on your knees.

“you’d let me do whatever i want to ya, ain’t that right princess?” his voice was like velvet, making you feel warm all over as you pushed your ass into his groin. you whimpered as you felt his hardness against your cunt and you wiggled your hips, making joel laugh a little and slap your ass.

“so eager too, huh?” all you could do was nod into the pillow, using your forearms to fold under it and hold your head up. the arch in your back was exaggerated, but you wanted him to be able to get the best leverage on you.

he gripped your hips tight like you were going to leave him, and spread your asscheeks to see both holes shining for him.

“tell me you want me, can you do that for me?” he asked condescendingly and you hummed, drunk off him grabbing your ass to pull your cheeks apart and watch as they jiggle.

“i want you,” you muffled, your voice not sounding recognizable. it was hoarse, from moaning and crying and was about to get even more raspy.

“good girl, you tell me if you want me to stop yeah?”

“no! please,” you clung onto whatever he was giving you, “i want it, all of it, please,” you cried for him.

he spits down on your asshole and watches it slip down to your cunt, and he positioned himself at your hole as he keeps your ass spread apart for him.

“so fuckin’ messy, such a sweet cunt for me,” he moaned as he pushed the head of his cock inside, making you whimper at the small stretch. you didn’t think he could stretch you anymore, until he sunk deeper into your hole and made you start gasping for air.

“what baby? is it too much? can’t take daddy’s cock?” he taunted behind you as your weak arms went from under the pillow to trying to push his thighs back. unfortunately with your strength, it was no use and only gave him incentive to pin both your arms behind your back, right where your back arched.

you could feel your drool leaking onto the pillow as he slid slowly into you, not stopping until you felt his balls hit against your cunt. your legs were already trembling from his sheer size, making joel put one hand on the fat of your hip to steady you and one hand on your wrists.

he started to pull out again, just to slide back in and repeat the movement as he slowly started to speed up the pace. you could hear faint groaning and the sound of your slick gathering on his cock, the wetness being the only noise that was distinct.

it was pain and pleasure balled into one as he kept gliding in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten and release around him the faster he went. you felt each thrust make your body lurch forward, pushing your face into the pillow as he kept his relentlessness up.

“oh, baby you feel so fuckin’ good, so good for me,” he groaned. he grabbed both your wrists with his hands and yanked your body up off the mattress so that your breasts are exposed for him. he takes advantage of the space between you and bed, and pulls you even further up to press you against his chest.

“keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me, makes me wanna ruin this little pussy even more,” he grinned against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you threw your arms back to grab onto his hair and head. you needed something to balance yourself now that you were standing on your knees, and being fucked into like you weighed absolutely nothing.

“d-, fuck, i can’t,” you choked through a loud moan, one that made joel grunt as he fucked into you harder. he wasn’t doing small strokes, he was pulling out almost all the way and slamming back into you in a way that sent pain to your cervix, but pressure on your clit begging to be released.

“can’t what princess? can’t think? i know baby, gettin’ fucked so good you can’t even talk,” he chuckled, moving his hand to grab at your breast and knead your flesh. his hands molded onto your body like they were made to fit you, but all your mind could focus on was the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

joel knew you were going dumb already, not expecting answers from you as that would just be cruel. he wanted to make you feel good, and the way your spit covered your chin and your mouth fell open but hardly any noise was making its way out, he knew he was doing a damn good job.

“hear that, baby? such a fuckin’ pretty mess, you like soakin’ my cock like that? so damn wet, so fuckin’ tight,” you couldn’t get enough of his words when he plucked at your nipple, teasing and pinching to get you closer and closer.

“s-so big, m’ so full,” you cried and he smiled again, holding you closer than ever as he wallowed in your voice.

“my baby’s full of me, full of my cock,” he repeated, never slowing down as he pulled out just to push all of him back into you at once. he was in love with how you felt, he even felt like he was losing his train of thought at you let out deep moans that made his cock jerk inside of you.

“‘s okay baby, you look so cute all fucked out like this, can’t even fuckin’ breathe can ya?” he asked and you shook your head no, reminding yourself to unclench your chest so you could let in a good breath. he heard it, and rubbed up your chest to grip your throat, which elicited a harsh whimper.

his other hand traveled down your body, past your larger stomach and reached down to your cunt. he used the slick between your lips after stuffing them in your mouth and started to rub circles over your nub, making you squirm and wiggle against his body.

“uhn-uh, thought you liked takin’ my cock like a slut? take it, baby.” you couldn’t even move if you wanted to, wanting to fuck back on his cock and meet his thrusts. you were almost empty headed, words sounding like words but not being able to form them yourself.

“there you go, take it all baby it’s yours,” he repeated as he watched you grab onto his arm that held you by the neck and let him ravage you like no other. he was the animal, and you were his prey.

the feeling of his thick cock ramming you, splitting you open while he fingers worked your clit makes you throw your head back on his shoulder and shut your eyes strongly. it was blinding, the pleasure you felt that he inflicted, and you felt yourself clenching your entire body as your orgasm reached its peak. it’s all you focused on. his hands grabbing you everywhere, soaking you in as he pushed your thick body into his chest and managed to lay on his back. he let our body fall onto his and held you up like that, his hands spreading your legs as you tried to sit up on your hands.

you couldn’t, of course, couldn’t even think about how he changed positions so quickly, or if you were too heavy for him. your body was limp as he held you open, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster as he fucked into you.

“m gonna, j-joel, gonna cum, gonna cum, m’ gonna cum,” you chanted in a strained whine, one that sounded needy for him. one of his hands lets go of your leg and rests his palm on your forehead, pulling you back to his shoulder so he can kiss along your jaw and neck.

“cum for me baby, such a dumb fuckin' slut, taking my cock like you were made f’ it,” he was so insulting, so degrading, but the feeling of losing your autonomy so he can fuck you like you deserved made it even sexier for you. you didn’t know your neighbor felt this way for you, that he’d been wanting to feel you and have you like this. it was exhilarating and when you finally let go, when the ringing in your ears started and every muscle in your body tightened just to go slack again, you realized how much you’d been missing.

you’d never been fucked to the point of silence, nothing but quiet moans and strained breathing falling out of your lips because you couldn’t think, and as joel holds you by wrapping an arm around the thickness of your tummy and letting you close your legs to alleviate the intensity, he whispers nothing but dirty things in your ear. the shaking never stopped, even as joel started to reach his peak.

“such a pretty girl,”

“love watchin’ you go dumb on my cock,”

“gonna fill this cunt with my cum, ya want that sweetheart?”

“can’t even talk, such a dirty fuckin’ whore,”

you were mumbling, blabbering, making noises that couldn’t even be registered as noises as his hips slammed against your ass lazily. you feel it the minute he empties inside of you because he holds you even closer than before, stilling your moving hips and you feel the heat of the white ropes that cover your walls. it was so dirty, so messy, so filthy that you wouldn’t be surprised if you were embarrassed after this. you were still mindlessly groaning, humming as your orgasm buzzed through your body and the feeling of his cum trying to push its way out.

you both lay there, breathless, sticky and with joel still buried inside of you.

“i have… i have to get off,” you breathed out, coming back to the sense of reality. the air in your room felt cold, pricking at your skin like needles. the sweat didn’t help either.

“no ya don’t,” he said, only to hold you tighter.

“joel, i’m like crushing you,” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp and he just gave a quick slap to your cunt, making you jolt and still.

“don’t be ridiculous, ya need me to show you exactly how strong i am or are ya gonna take my word for it?” he warned and you swallowed, blinking at the ceiling before you turn your head to look at the side of his face before he turns his head to look at you. still, the back of your head rested on his shoulder and your legs were between his.

“i can’t even move, joel,” you said in a smile and he laughed, leaning in to kiss your forehead and over your face.

“i’ll help ya with that.”

joel proved once again that he was strong enough to pick you up, because he carried you bridal style to the restroom and got a bath ready for you, joining in to help clean you up and massage your muscles. you were dazed, so entirely fucked out that you let him do whatever he needed to do with you to get you into bed. and he didn’t seem to mind, because after taking care of you he got to snuggle in the same bed he made you drool in.

he let you cuddle into him all you wanted, wrapping your arms and legs around him to bury your face in the shirt he put on. even though it was your bedsheets and your body wash he used, he still smelled like joel. and it was all you needed, ironically the man you longed for to make you feel good was the man who stayed in 6a.

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kiss-me-muchoo · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐞𝐯𝐚 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ from that time when Miguel and you had an extremely big sexual tension and during the chaos of a tropical storm hitting the HQ, both of you ended up tangled under the humid rain. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ SMUT 18+, sex…minors, go away pls, size kink, unprotected sex (just don’t…), dom!Miguel, sub!reader, shy reader, creampie, porn with plot, porn starts in medias res sorry, age gap. NO PROOFREAD, and poor attempt at writing smut bye. 𝐀/𝐍_ if I had Miguel calling me mami and chiquita while destroying my coochie… I would die… happily, listen to fetish with this PLEASE!!!

♪ ♫ my miguel playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

When clouds started to look bigger at earth-928, everyone should’ve known something weird would happen.

However, you don’t have time to worry about that at midday. You are laughing so hard at the sight of baby Mayday Parker; she had vomited all over Peter because he bounced her right after Mayday drank her milk.

“I can’t-oh my god. I can’t stop laughing!” You babble, tears in your eyes, and your stomach hurts.

“Stop laughing and get me a towel,” the man pleaded.

“Oh boy, Spider-Man from the humble reality is having a humble moment” Your laughs increase when Hobie walks in, to Peter’s dismay. The bench on the rooftop of the HQ slowly filled with colorful petals. Petals that emanated from you and your happiness.

“Could someone give me a towel?” You wipe the tears from your eyes with a napkin before handing it to Peter while Hobie carries Mayday.

“It’s not a towel, but it’ll work,” the older man grunts but accepts your help.

“Is it me or the weather is weird today?” Peter asks again.

“Yeah, it’s cloudy but hot. It’s so weird,” you added; Hobie nodded, analyzing the sky. In addition, Mayday keeps drinking her milk bottle, looking fussy as usual.

Nueva York was always foggy but sunny and warm but not hot. So this was something new, but not enough to make you wonder further. Then you start walking inside the giant building of the HQ with your friends.

Mayday now in your arms, Hobie walking by your side, and Peter was stuck on the showers trying to clean himself.

“Miguel was looking for us…” your smile disappears as Hobie speaks. Nervousness immediately ran across your body, and a blush painted your cheeks.

“Oh… Really?”

“Yeah, he’s mad as usual. And Lyla making it worse… as usual,” you laugh awkwardly.

When you had Miguel in front of you, if you were with friends, you had the ovaries to talk back and be reckless. But you couldn’t even look him in the eye when it was just you.

And when he wasn’t around, you were a mess of anxiety. Because you had a crush on your boss, who was older, grumpier, and more traumatized than you.

“That’s not new….”

“Yup, here…” he opened the door of his office. And all you could hear was Mayday’s babbling the whole way inside. She had a dirty dress, and her curly hair was a mess.

“You need a shower, little woman,” the baby giggled and started playing with your hair. At least she was entertained.

Miguel was on the screens as usual. Seeing anomalies and random canon events makes you wonder if he ever spent time at his own place.

He turned his broad back to see you. And there you were, looking like a nymph (technically, you were half one, anyways…). He saw you carrying Mayday, and his heart started to beat softly. A warm feeling assaulted him. Something that often happened whenever you were near him.

“I’ve told you to stop that…” his firm and deep voice was all you heard.

You look back to see more petals scattered over the entrance. Oh…

“I’m sorry, I can’t control it,” you admit. He rolls his eyes.

In the past, Miguel had said that your weird ability to leave petals behind was dangerous for Lego Spider-Man and spider plushie due to their height.

“Sure. And where were you an hour ago?. I sent Lyla for you…” he can see how you shield yourself by looking at Mayday. Oh, there it goes, pink painting your cheeks.

“Well… While I know we have big responsibilities here, bombón, I was busy back at home” You don’t know what possessed you to call him like that. But it doesn’t feel as bad as you thought it was gonna be. He’s surprised, you rarely make that type of comment, and he always ignored them. But as time progressed, he couldn’t deny his real feelings.

“Really? Doing what, bonita?” For you, it was shocking. Was he flirting back?

“Uh-… I had to build my schedule for the next college semester,” Miguel nods mockingly. He sauntered towards you, tilting his head, and for some seconds, you think you’ll drop the little girl in your arms. The man hears you gulp, bringing a little smile to him again.

“Don’t get all shy, chiquita…” you don’t feel when Hobie grabs Mayday from your arms. You are going to fall on your knees.

The man with punk vibes knows it's not a moment for Mayday to be present.

“We’re out…” Hobie announces. He leaves with the kid, and silence reigns.

Miguel grabs your chin to make you look up at him. The urge to feel his hands somewhere across your body invades you. Maybe his hands on your hips would look good. Or his hands holding your legs apart.

stop it, y/n, you think.

“I can hear your heartbeats… “ he had an idea of the effect he caused on you. And he was eager to discover if his feelings were reciprocated.

“You do?…” your voice is a melody to him. Sweet, cute, and shy. He won’t admit he wants to ruin you.

“You sound nervous. But I can also smell you… and it’s telling me how wet you are” A barrier had been crossed. Nothing would be the same. The tension that slowly built since you joined the spider society a year before the events with the kid Miles Morales, had exploded.

“Miguel…” You don’t want to ruin your barely existing friendship with him. So you place your hand on his broad chest to stop him from leaning closer.

But his gaze is focused on your eyes, and it confuses you. Because if you didn’t know Miguel and what happened to his daughter in that alternate earth, you would believe he was looking at you with a mix of lust… and love.

“We both feel the same…” his voice was confident. Like he was sure of his actions and words. Like he was confirming he felt something for you.

Miguel can hear your slow heartbeats,

You close your eyes, and by the time his lips brush yours, a loud and scary thunder startles you, pulling you away from having a kiss with your boss.

“What was that?” You ask just after a little scream of scare you let out.

“A thunder, I guess…” Miguel confirms. He had an arm around you because you had looked for comfort in his arms after the thunder.

“But Nueva York never has storms in summer.”

“If we learned something last year… was that anything can change,” the man replies.

And it’s true. After Miles ran to Earth -42, Miguel owed him an apology after discovering that canon events could change.

He even apologized to you for not believing and hearing you.

“True… but still, it’s weird” Slowly, he pulled away, noticing and analyzing what just happened. The sound of rain distracted him and you, but both were having a hazy moment for what almost happened.

And before he could talk about it again, Lyla appeared.

“Oh, good to know you two are here… We’re locked,” you frowned. Miguel walks away from you. But the heat in the room, between you two… barely decreases.

“What?” Lyla ignores your question to move her heart-shaped glasses and cross her arms.

“The storm is messing with us. The portals won’t work, and everyone is stuck inside here.” Miguel sighs and starts walking in little circles. You exchange looks with the AI before she shrugs.

“Isn’t there anything to do?” He asks tiredly. Another wave of thunders hit, and now you’re curious to look outside. It was rare to have tropical storms, even rarer in Nueva York.

“Well…”

Peter entered the room, now changed, with no more baby vomit over his suit. Gwen and Miles were beside him, with Pavitr holding the tiny Spider-man popsicle. The man near you is rolling his eyes and already stressing.

“Great. Now what are you doing here?” Miguels asks, visibly frustrated. Because Peter, Gwen, and Miles were not some of his favorite spiders. He tolerated Pavitr and secretly admired popsicle Spider-man. But that's it.

“It’s raining…” Miles said.

“No way, for real?” Lyla mocks him

“What do we do?”

“Power is unstable, too,” Peter announces. Miguel is about to burst into anger when he hears Peter, thinking his words make him more annoying.

“He’s right, boss. Our security system needs a boost to stabilize it.”

“Which is?…” you ask, stepping beside the tall man. He sends a little look down to you.

“A button…” Lyla answers.

“A button?…”

“Yes. It’s a yellow button that we have to secure the power and security system of the HQ. Someone has to go outside and manually press it from the electricity box,” everyone sighs.

“But it’s raining…” Miles protests again, and Gwen nods. Of course, nobody wanted to go out and get drenched.

“We are heroes, kid. C’mon, I’ll do it…” immediately, Pavitr stops Peter.

“NO! Mayday needs his dad. What if you get a cold in the rain? What if you die?”

“It’s like 90 degrees outside, Pav. If the power goes out, we melt to death and die anyway…” For some seconds, you want to laugh; but when you catch Miguel made looking at you, your cheeks turn red, turning away again. He chuckles in disguise, thinking how cute and hot you look.

After seeing your reaction to the almost kiss, he's eager to do more than just kiss you. Blaming his intense desire for you caused by the stress of the storm and the damn button.

“Where’s the electricity box, then?” Peter asks again. Lyla opens a virtual map and selects the rooftop area.

“It’s in zone A of the rooftop. You have to be careful; the floor in that section is from crystal. Even your spider senses can betray you and make you fall badly with the humidity outside.” Peter looks scared because he doesn't remember the rain and its potential risk.

Miguel sighs, frustrated again, and steps further, urging you to walk by pressing a hand on your lower back.

“Save it; I’m going with y/n” Everyone knew you were one of Miguel’s favorite spiders. Half of the spider society suspected he was in love with you. So it wasn’t a surprise that he chose you for the task.

“Hold her tightly…” Gwen suggests Miguel as you two leave the room.

Oh, I’ll do more than that to her, Miguel thinks.

…

Well, the rain wasn’t that bad. It was like a warm breeze; the awkward part was the humidity, which felt like the whole HQ and the rest of Nueva York evaporated.

“There’s the box. Look, Miguel!” You yell when you look at the grey box with buttons and wires. The man nods. And he thanked for wearing his mask because you looked amazingly pretty with your hair wet. Even more, flowers seemed to grow around you because of the rain.

And your suit, he wanted to avoid looking at you with desire. But he had been pushing his emotions for so long that it seemed like that summer would be impossible.

“Let’s be careful” Your soft muscles looked tighter with the drenched suit. But god, when you reached the box in the wall and opened it, he let go. The fabric looked so thin that your nipples were visibly perking, and the outline of your pussy lips was almost there, tempting him.

His cock hardened utterly. And as you tried to reach the damn yellow button, he was getting hypnotized by your small figure, imagining you in the most erotic scenarios.

“I can’t…” you admit in the middle of the pouring rain. Jumping wasn't the best option, but the floor is so slippery that you'll likely fall if you stand on your tip toes for an extended period.

Everything changes when you jump one last time and slip, set to land on your back against the crystal floor. The moment was so fast that you only closed your eyes, hoping for the worst.

But when you open your eyes, Miguel is on top of you. His arms had saved you, and you were okay.

"Are you okay?" His brown eyes are one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. And you find yourself getting lost in them. Before you can thank him, he has already smashed his lips on you. Kissing you like a starved man.

His hands attach to your hips, and your arms hug his neck tightly, kissing him with the same passion.

When he hears your first moan, he knows he reached heaven.

The lights of the cafeteria blink nonstop. Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, Hobie, and Mayday are sandwiched on a couch. While Jess, Ben, and Peter talk near them.

“Poor y/n and Miguel, they must be getting wet,” Pavitr laments. Everyone nods in agreement, hearing the rain pouring outside.

“Maybe y/n will fall, but Miguel will save her, and they’ll finally be together,” Gwen fantasized. Even Jess, Peter, and Ben turned to look at her in disbelief.

“What? Everyone wants them together. See,” the blonde takes out her phone and shows everyone a screenshot of a poll made by Ultimate Spider-Man. 91% said they wanted you to date Miguel.

“Oh-, wow…” Jess mumbled, confused.

“What? And I didn’t vote? Let me check!” Peter immediately went to vote on his own device. Jess and Ben rolled their eyes.

“Let’s just hope they get here early. They had been out for forty minutes already” Gween nodded at Miles.

“Maybe that button is giving them trouble,” Ben says.

Everyone wonders how you two are dealing with the hot storm outside.

…

“Miguel, you’re so fucking big. You’re stretching me so good.”

How you ended up having sex in the rooftop of the HQ with Miguel?

One second both are kissing, then you remove your suit, and he follows you.

You had seen his cock; proportional to his massive body. A pink tip slowly getting swollen and leaking pre cum, a vein across the length that made your mouth water and pussy clench. His abs and massive arms caged you in an intense yet soft way.

There’s a solid dominant aura that Miguel is holding as he buries himself inside you. Your velvety walls welcome him tightly. He hits a spongy wall that makes you arch your back, and your tits invite him to taste them. So he does; Miguel sucks your nipples like a starved animal. You feel his fangs over the sensitive bud, and his talons are holding your hips with just enough pressure to make you feel pleasure.

“Dios…I can’t believe this,” he’s shocked. You had disintegrated your suit minutes ago, offering your body to him. He asked if you were okay because just with the stretch of his tip sliding through your folds, you couldn’t stop sobbing. He knew he was big, and with you being so small, he wanted to be careful, even when, in his most dark desires, he wanted to ruin you.

The image is erotic; how you shyly took him. Still, you look hotter than ever, arched back with the rain leaving your hair and body all wet, your face shining with tears mixing up.

“Oh-Miguel…” he thinks your face is a treasure, showing him how much of a good job he was doing by pleasuring you.

“Mig-Miguel,” your eyes are closed. But he wants to see you and your pretty face while you moan and cry.

“Look at me, chiquita. Look at me when I’m buried inside you” Your walls clench at his voice using the hottest nicknames in Spanish. But you can do that too. However, you obey. Your eyes are now glued to him; the visual contact is a challenge for you, but his cock and balls hitting your ass are enough to distract you.

“you’re gonna let me be yours?” He asks, his hands holding your hips so tightly. That you’ll likely get bruises. That doesn’t stop the whole scenario from being so lustful.

“Yes, ah-. Yes, Miguel… And I’m gonna be yours too, papi” he’s a goner; the passion is hypnotic. Both of you can feel the way his cock pulses inside you. You clench around him on purpose, causing the man to close his eyes briefly, savor the pleasure, and believe what is happening. He had you on your back, your actions making him think you might want him in the same ways as he does.

“You’re gonna be mine?. Solo mía….” You can feel every vein of his thick length helping to rip you open, and it’s the best feeling ever. Your hand rests on your lower stomach, and your brows furrow in pleasure as you feel the outline of Miguel’s cock. The man looks at it and wishes to photograph the sight.

“Can you feel how hard you make me, bonita? Very easy, mami” The rain turns the moment stickier, and it’s naughty. His pace is fast but soft, with the humidity reigning over Nueva York, the sweat and rain shower over your burning body and his.

You believe he couldn’t look better with the hairs on his forehead. It makes you want to say the most vulgar things. Feeling his cock causing a sting with every thrust, it only makes you feel dirtier.

“Soy tuya, Miguel… I’ve always been” maybe you’re cockdrunk cause you don’t even remember that the whole HQ is locked inside. At least they had a lot of things to do.

“Fuck…” he mumbled. His eyes were glued to your cunt, seeing how you sucked him in. And every time he bottomed in and out when his cock was balls deep inside you, something extremely hot happened; the mix of the sound of your cunt squelching and a ring of fluids mixed forming at the base of his cock. Miguel accepted he had never been so hard before, to the point where he could feel himself being extremely hard even inside you.

“Please, bonita. Please let me fuck you harder” It takes you by surprise; the duality of Miguel. He was possessive, in control. But he was soft like he wanted to be good for you. Thing that made you fall more in love with him.

“Do it, Miguel” He welcomes your sweet lips as he starts pounding harder into you. Miguel knew he wasn’t acting as a leader. He was getting lost in the lust, in your gorgeous eyes and perfect body, instead of returning to the HQ's safety.

“You’re so pretty, chiquita.” He whispers in your ear. Your heart clenches and softens for him, the urge to scream I love you, to welcome him in your life, and keep him forever.

“Fuck, god-Miguel, fuck me harder, papi!” He kisses away your tears before he focuses on your tits again. His hot mouth sucks and leaves wet kisses on your chest. A hand was still gripping your hip, and the other traveled to land on your swollen clit.

“Are you getting closer, bonita?” You nod, accepting the way he was fucking you. The mix of his lips sucking your nipples, his fingers circling your clit, and his cock causing the most obscene sounds with your cunt.

“Yes, yes, fuck…” At that point, the rain was only a boost to keep going. You hold tightly from his neck, biting him occasionally, sending him to death.

“Oh-I’m cumming. I’m gonna cum, Miguel,” he moans when your hands comb his hair. His thrusts start to get sloppy, and the lips that were once on your tits now rest on your neck.

“Cum, bonita. Make a mess on my cock” You keep repeating his name, louder each time. He loves it and wants to keep being the reason for your pleasure.

This is heaven, you think. You see stars even when the sky is dark, only Miguel had the capacity to do that to you with an orgasm.

You arch your back, clenching around his cock so hard that, consequently, Miguel cums too. His hot cum paint white your walls, and with each thrust, a mix of your sheer fluids and his white seed drip from your folds.

Both of you pant, breathing for air.

“Wow…” and you’re back to being shy. When Miguel turns down to see you, you have your hands on your eyes, covering yourself.

He slowly slips out of you and gently touches your hands.

“Y/n…” he calls you, slowly removing your hands from your face. A blushed face pops in, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“I’m on the verge of being in love with you…” his touch on your chin makes you forget you are still naked. The shock on your face grew, and Miguel awaited your answer.

“Is-, Is this a joke?. I mean, we just had sex, but… Are you kidding?”

“Am I known for being someone who jokes often?” he asks you with sarcasm. And you’re hesitating, analyzing every possible reaction to any possible answer you could give him.

You love him, and he was admitting the same to you. But… everything was so sudden.

Then you have been contemplating that couples that tend to wait for the moment or analyze everything are separated too fast. And while you and Miguel had never been anything besides work partners, now you know the feelings were always there.

“So you like me as… a potential love interest?” you asked to confirm that you weren’t dreaming. Miguel smirks, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I would like you to be my partner. Long term and everything…” Another giant wave of blush invades you. Only the rain pulls you out of your daydream. By then, it was a warm breeze mixed with some wind.

“I like commitment…”

He smiles, and a genuine smile appears on his face.

You’re not ready to have him smiling and showing a soft side every day.

“Then… it’s a yes?” you nod, leaning closer to hug him. Maybe both should have talked about the feelings before having sex, let alone that the first time happened on the HQ rooftop in the middle of a tropical storm. But it’s okay.

“Yeah…So now you’re my boyfriend?”

“Indeed” Oh, you’re so happy. He kisses your temple, knowing he would quickly fall in love with you completely.

Suddenly you remembered why you ended up naked with a new boyfriend on the rooftop.

Well, only the grey sky was a witness of your sin.

“Oh, shit!… Miguel! THE BUTTON!” he chuckles, accepting he got carried away by the irresponsibility. He offers his hand, and simultaneously, both of you have your suits again.

“They must be fine,” he assures you, walking towards the box that caused everything. There’s a little door that opens the box full of wires and the infamous yellow button. Miguel presses it and turns back to you.

“Ready?”

“Sure…” You try to suppress the urge to scream when he takes your hand.

Jess is the first to see you and Miguel back inside the HQ. She frowns in confusion, making everyone else turn around to encounter the scene.

“Damn. What the hell happened to you two?” The woman asks, inspecting how your hair and Miguel’s are totally drenched.

“Uh-…” Miguel grows quiet, and you chuckle nervously, planning a decent lie.

“It was a hard mission. We couldn’t open the damn box to press the button” Everyone nods, understanding.

“Why are you holding hands?” Gwen looks curiously at your small hand covered by Miguel’s giant one.

“Oh, uh-…”

“We’re together….” First, you covered him, and now he was covering you; you would be a good team. One last time, a blush paints your face.

“Shoot, WHAT?” Peter, Pavitr, and Gwen seem to be celebrating. Peter shows you a poll debating whether you should date Miguel or now; the majority said yes. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by his workmate's antics.

“So today we had a tropical storm and a couple revelation? On the same day? Weird…” Pavitr's comment makes you realize how chaotic the day was.

“Even weirder because the portals are still out of service” While Jess is stressed because she left her baby and husband at home, the younger spiders are excited.

“We should make a sleepover,” Gwen suggests, and you agree with excitement.

“No. I don’t think that’s matu-…” but you stop Miguel, turning back to him.

“Can we take a break and relax for one evening, love?” Everyone can see Miguel blushing cause you called him love. Of course, Hobie laughed and pointed at him.

“We can sleep in the cafeteria and tell supernatural stories.”

“That’s so silly…” Jess said to Ben, but the young man seemed excited too.

Ultimately, Jess and Miguel were the only serious adults looking at the upcoming mess.

“The button wasn’t an issue, right?” She asked Miguel. For some reason, Spider-Man 2099 couldn’t lie to Jessica.

“Of course not,” he heard Jessica laughing, knowing or at least suspecting what had happened between you and him.

“You’re insane,” she accuses his friend. But Miguel can’t feel embarrassed with Jess or Lyla. Yes, he wasn’t proud of fucking you on the rooftop under a storm, but he was happy that it made you two come together, at least.

After watching you leave the recreational area, he goes behind you and the blonde girl.

“Hey…Where are you going?” He asks, taking your forearm softly.

“Miles and Gwen want to get some sleep bags. And then I’m going with Ben for some lamps and-“

“I never approved of a sleepover” You send him a playful look, arching a brow.

“It’ll be fun. Besides, there’s nothing else to do. You can’t even send us on missions. Please?…” god, he hated how fast you were gaining power over him. As you bat your eyelashes and remark the e on please to convince him, he’s already considering improving the silly sleepover.

“Está bien pues…” you cheer and stand on your tiptoes to pull him down, kissing him.

Miguel couldn’t pull you away; even if many spiders were watching him, he couldn’t. Not when your lips felt so good on him.

Suddenly Gwen pulls you away, annoying Miguel once again.

“Okay, macho libre, I’m taking your girl away some minutes…” he rolls his eyes but gives you a little smile that you reply with a giggle.

Sure, something weird had happened that day in Nueva York.

__________________________________

It’s official, I’m doing Do you want a baby part three .

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #accross the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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insomniumstella · 1 year

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stuck in the middle (1) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 4,050

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

Wanda had never considered herself too lucky, but she had not been entirely unfortunate either.

She’d often get the last croissant at her favorite coffee shop or find money in every little corner of the compound — abandoned lockers at the gym, behind the coffee jar in the pantry, in the pocket of Tony’s pants that one and only time he had asked the girl to wash them for him.

Wanda could remember the day she had won her first contest vividly. The anxiety at the pit of her stomach, the crinkling of paper as she tore open a brown envelope, the pure joy when she had found out about receiving a pink toaster oven. That fateful day had forever been burned into her memories.

A couple of weeks later, she had entered a second competition after accidentally stumbling upon it in a random magazine and won again and again until Wanda, getting all sorts of things for free, became a running joke at the compound. It had been no different after a major travel company had announced a contest for a free vacation in Hawaii months ago, she could sense, before she had even opened the oversized box Maui Dreams had delivered to the Avengers’ headquarters.

Wanda had been right; she had not exhausted her luck yet.

“Bucky, I’m sorry!” She threw the soldier a sheepish glance before dragging y/n out of the training facility that afternoon. Wanda had paid little mind to James, and if looks could kill, she would’ve been six feet under.

It was only when the two girls had reached the compound’s kitchen did y/n notice that Wanda was still in her pajamas, holding a bright pink paper slip. The redhead’s expression was a mixture of anxiety and bewilderment, and y/n couldn’t decide which one she’d prefer to experience first if neither wasn’t an option.

“Training with Bucky is a nightmare, so thank you for the temporary rescue, but,” she gestured to the paper Wanda was holding before getting a water bottle from the fridge, “what’s this, and why is it making you upset?”

“This,” Wanda held up the CONGRATULATIONS: HAWAII AWAITS! letter, “is a note granting me a free vacation in Hawaii.” She chewed on her lip, staring at y/n. “Hawaii!”

“Yes, Hawaii.” She nodded, unsure as if one wrong word would cause Wanda to lose her temper.

“This,” she waved the paper in y/n’s face, “is a free pass for a week in paradise, and I cannot go! I read their terms and conditions and, shit, I even emailed them, but,” heavy accent laced itself around her words, “they’ve decided that for the reason that Vision is a robot, and I’m a foreign weapon of mass destruction we cannot go.” She spoke mockingly, rolling her eyes. “They worded it differently, but it seems ridiculous nonetheless.”

“Modern problems require modern solutions.” She offered Wanda a half smile, trying to make a joke out of the situation. “Besides, they might’ve been right about the destruction part of the email.” She added in a much quieter voice, referring to the complex of buildings her teammate had recently destroyed.

It had been purely an accident, a blunder of magic most would've had a difficult time controlling if one was to ask y/n. However, it had been a pure catastrophe if one was to ask the American government.

“It was an accident, and the houses were empty.” The redhead cocked her head to the side, face painted in faux shock at y/n’s accusations.

“Offer the trip to Steve. Heaven knows Captain Rogers needs a break.” She finished the water bottle, throwing it into the trash. “We can talk later, but I must get going.”

James Buchanan Barnes was undoubtedly still waiting in the training facility, and, though y/n had little desire to finish training, she couldn’t bail again. Besides, James had been beating her ass at hand-to-hand combat the past few weeks, and she’d be everything she had always despised if she gave him the satisfaction of giving up that easily.

“I did.” The guilty undertones in Wanda’s tone stopped y/n in her tracks, and she glanced at the redhead from over her shoulder. “I signed up the two of you for the vacation.”

Bewilderment burned in y/n’s eyes. “What?!”

“Pack your bags.” The younger girl chuckled, leaning against the bar. Her smile was everything but innocent. “The plane leaves tomorrow evening.”

The woman tried arguing, she did.

As soon as James had dismissed her from training, she had been running around in meek attempts to locate Steve, and even when she had finally succeeded, Wanda’s story proved to be true. The schedules had been cleared, Steve’s bags had been packed. It was suspicious, way too suspicious — the Steve she had known for almost ten years already, wouldn’t have willingly signed up for a vacation. It was an all-expenses-paid vacation in Hawaii, yes, but everything had appeared too perfect for it to be true.

She found herself on the plane the next evening nonetheless because if The Captain Rogers agreed to it, she could see herself tanning topless, a Moscow Mule in hand, as well. The universe must’ve heard y/n’s prayers and decided to bless her with a miracle. Thank you, universe, she thought, sipping on a vodka soda the flight attendant had given her as soon as she sat down in the business-class seat. Though the airplane could never compare to the luxury of Tony’s private jets, which dripped with excessive luxury, it was far better than flights with the team, for this flight had no bickering or shouting. I need more of these, y/n decided when a nearby passenger kept slamming their backpack into the overhead bin, I need more vodka.

“This compartment must be full. Perhaps you should try the compartment next to it?” She softly suggested, flipping through the airline’s in-flight shopping catalog.

She loved boarding first for the copious amounts of space in the overhead bins because the loss of storage was the sorrow passengers who boarded last suffered.

“What the fuck?” Bucky gawked at her before giving the backpack a final push and deciding to shove it underneath the seat when it didn’t fit. “Where the fuck is Steve?” His loud voice earned judging glances from the people with kids in the row ahead of them, but he paid the family no mind.

“James?!”

Devil himself sat beside y/n, his perplexed expression matching hers. No, no, no, Steve wouldn’t.

The woman had been overly excited to meet Bucky in all his glory after the court had declared him innocent. And, sure, he had stabbed her the first time they met, but y/n had been willing to put the past behind the pair and start fresh. Everyone deserved a second chance, or everyone except Bucky, she had determined, when he had been nothing but an asshole for the last five years. It had never been a ‘James hates everyone’ issue, no, it was a ‘Bucky hates y/n’ issue. If he was determined to make her life a living hell, she was more than happy to return the favor, declaring war.

“Did you put him up to this?”

“What?”

“Did you switch places with Steve?” He repeated in a far bolder and louder voice.

She could not comprehend the words that rolled off of his tongue. Why would she, the woman who had recently replaced his almond milk with whole milk, knowing he’d suffer immensely, but doing it anyway just for the fun of it, ask Steve to go on a vacation with James?

“Yes, sergeant, I begged Steve for a week in paradise with the great James Buchanan Barnes.”

The soldier raised a brow, digging into his back pocket to retrieve something y/n deemed as a brick — an old, barely usable cellphone Bucky used for his personal endeavors. She peeked at the contact list of three whole people and snickered to herself. Steve, Sam, and his therapist were the only numbers he had saved. Though it did not come as a surprise, it was amusing to witness.

“Sir, please put the phone away, we are preparing for takeoff.”

His head shot up at the sound of the flight attendant’s voice. James glanced between the insufferable woman in the seat on his left and the woman with a pleasant smile standing nearby, carefully choosing his next battle.

“There’s been a misunderstanding.” He grinned apologetically, but closed the flip phone. “I just need to make a quick call.”

“The plane door’s open,” y/n shrugged, pretending to look unbothered as if Bucky’s appearance on the plane wasn’t the most horrifying of problems, “you could let me go on the trip alone,” she paused, pretending to be in deep thought, “I’d be distraught, of course, but it’d be nothing a little Hawaiian sun and a martini couldn’t fix.”

Bucky scoffed at her. Was she really that stuck up to believe she was the only one in need of a holiday?

James wouldn’t outright admit it, but he desperately craved a break from the stress of high-stakes missions, frequently occurring chaos in the compound, from y/n, who had ruined his last Wednesday by switching his almond milk to whole milk. He had stayed up in the bathroom until midnight, missing out on a potentially incredible date. It would've been his third after James had gotten his mind back and y/n had wrecked it, prompting a stream of angry messages from Jennifer, a bartender at a local bar.

“The door is actually closed, ma’am. Please fasten your seatbelts and turn all devices on airplane mode.” The flight attendant’s smile faltered for a second. “Would you like me to bring you another vodka soda when we’re in the air?” She questioned, gesturing to y/n’s empty plastic cup as an offer for consolation.

“Make it double, please.” She nodded eagerly, the appalling realization of James and her being stuck on an airplane to Hawaii slowly creeping in.

The soldier threw an unamused glare in the girl’s direction, "if you throw up-“

“Oh my,” the annoyance in her tone was evident when she spoke, “that was one time, James,” she pushed a finger into his chest, “It was Halloween, and I wanted to outdrink Steve, and-“

“And I don’t care.” He shuffled in his seat for a more comfortable position. The plane was suddenly too hot and too cramped for James to stomach. “Just don’t throw up and, this one you might find difficult executing, stop talking to me. It’s bad enough I got tricked into getting on a plane with the most aggravating woman alive.” The words dripped with poison, firm and calculated. The former sentence was harsh, but it was his truth.

“When we land, you could stay at the airport,” she turned to face him, her knees bumping against his half on purpose, half because of the tight space between them, “and get on the next flight to upstate New York.”

James sneered, “sounds like a plan. I sincerely hope you’ll exceed at completing it.” If anyone was to catch the next flight to NYC it would be y/n, he’d make sure of it.

She studied him, hoping her deadly stare would frighten the soldier, yet he didn’t move, make a sound, or change facial expressions. He remained entirely cool on the outside, and it infuriated her.

The next time her knees bumped into his, it was deliberate. “I need a vacation.” If James wanted to, and he did, he would’ve purposely mistaken the comment for a plea. A plea for sympathy from none other than y/n, the woman who never begged people for anything.

“As do I.”

“This is only the beginning then, princess,” she snatched the phone from his hands, aggressively flipping it shut from when he had turned it on after the flight attendant had left his sight, “this monstrosity is old enough to be a safety hazard, and it definitely does not have airplane mode.”

“Good. Perhaps it’ll kill us both and put me out of this misery.” He hissed, capturing y/n’s wrist.

She almost hoped it would.

“Honeymoon?!”

“I might have twisted the truth slightly,” Wanda’s voice sounded distracted over the phone.

“Slightly? I’m on a fucking honeymoon with Bucky Barnes, Wanda.” She could see Bucky through the glass windows from where she was standing in the smoking area outside of the hotel.

“Mmmh.”

“They’re putting us in the Lovers’ Suite as we speak. There’s probably going to be rose petals everywhere.”

“First, calm down.” Wanda switched the iPhone to her left side, holding it in place with her shoulder and cheek as she painted her nails.

Though she wouldn’t admit it, hearing the betrayal in y/n’s voice was the highlight of her week. She loved the girl, and if it came down to it, she’d die for her, but the situation was amusing at the least.

Steve had been the first person to find out about Hawaii, and when he made a seemingly silly joke that she should send Bucky and y/n on a honeymoon, a plan had been born.

“Second, you love roses.” A foolproof plan of Steve and Wanda to help the idiots notice what they had been blind to. “Besides it’s just for one week.”

“One week with Bucky Barnes is one week too long.”

“Please send me photos of you two at the beach.” The redhead chuckled.

“There will be no photos of us at the beach,” she replied, her tone dripping with poison, “I hope you know that I will forever hate you.”

“Don’t blame me. I didn’t know Bucky would show up instead of Steve.” Wanda lied through her teeth.

She had known about the ordeal that would unfold. In fact, she had masterfully orchestrated it all. It was y/n’s fault for believing Captain America would choose a vacation over missions and meetings he had been scheduled to attend.

“Steve better sleep with his eyes open when I get back.”

“I love you!” Wanda hung up the phone before y/n could get another word in.

“Shit.” She cursed under her breath when the phone suddenly became silent.

The soldier’s sickeningly charming smile was the last thing y/n expected when she strutted up to the reception desk.

“Darling, would you mind showing your ID? It’s the final thing we need to check in.”

She raised a brow at James, confused. “What?”

He threw her a brief, unimpressed glance before softening his eyes and gesturing to the woman. “Aaliyah has the room ready early, but she needs both of our IDs to check us in. It’s mentioned in the rules of the contest.”

The contest Wanda had used to trick her. May she burn in Sokovian hell.

“Yes, both parties must present their IDs. It’s simply a formality.” Aaliyah chimed in. “Our staff always get informed of the winners’ names. It’s the only way to redeem activities, meals at the à la carte restaurants, and special discounts.”

“Would a driver’s license work?” She asked, rummaging through her purse before sliding a random ID over the counter.

“Of course!” The receptionist’s smile was too bright and too happy for nine in the morning, y/n decided, but then again, it was Hawaii, so perhaps people functioned differently here. “Is this your first honeymoon?”

“It is!” She answered too quickly and without giving James a chance to speak. “We’ve just been too busy to notice as time flew by. Today’s our fourth wedding anniversary.” The words fell out of her mouth quicker than y/n could stop them, and she winced at the lie.

“Congratulations! I’ll have a romantic dinner arranged for tonight. Would seven work, or should I schedule it at eight?”

She had been entirely wrong. The universe cursed her — the tipsiness from the vodka was wearing off, the week in paradise turned out to be a faux honeymoon, and the random ID, she had provided hurriedly so as to not arouse suspicions on why a regular traveler carried that many driver’s licenses, was issued under the name of none other than Amelie Barnes. The ID had never been a problem until today when it incriminated y/n as Bucky’s wife and became the ultimate punishment for all the sins she had committed against the soldier.

Perhaps I should clean out my wallet sometimes.

“We wouldn’t want to cause any trouble, Aaliyah.” He awkwardly patted y/n on the shoulder. “You must deal with hundreds of honeymooners every day.”

“Nonsense. It’d be my pleasure.”

“The flight was exhausting,” James tried again, “we’ll probably enjoy a drink or two and call it a night.”

"It's fine, really." She chimed in, stepping further away from James and his awkward touches. "We want to order room service anyways."

"Yes!" He agreed, glancing at y/n. "A burger sounds divine." The timber of Bucky's voice was utterly unconvincing.

"Scheduling a dinner? It sounds too tiring and too long of a process." The woman offered Aaliyah a foolish grin, resting her elbows on the reception desk and propping her head in her hands.

She had attempted to sound unbothered, but her delivery of words had been quite ridiculous. She appeared eccentric, stupidly staring at the employee through panicked eyes. I am not his wife, he is not my husband. Please, woman, do not arrange a romantic dinner for the two of us tonight.

Unfortunately, the receptionist did not turn out to be a mind reader.

“It's not," she narrowed her eyes before her tightly pursed lips switched into a smile, "seven it is then! Toro Toro is our finest restaurant and will be perfect for a passionate anniversary celebration.”

“Great.” Bucky muttered under his breath.

She slid two pamphlets over the desk, “One of the pamphlets is a map of the hotel, and the other is a list of honeymoon activities. Couples massage seems to be the fan favorite.” She typed something on the computer before pushing the IDs and two sets of room keys in their direction, “Brody will lead you to the suite. Welcome to Hawaii Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.”

“I’m not going to the dinner.” James slumped into the couch.

The room was spacious and elegant, and, her intuition had been right, covered in rose petals. A bottle of champagne stood in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, a generous fruit basket and a note next to it. She landed on the opposite side of the sofa, picking up the postcard to read it.

Welcome to Hawaii — paradise awaits. We wish you a passionate and blissful honeymoon. The mea inu (drinks) are on us!

“Fine by me.” She let out a strangled chuckle at the irony of it all. “Do you think the receptionist was in on it?”

“Aaliyah?” James reached down to pop the champagne open. “She might be on something, that much I can say, but,” he took a sip from the bottle before pouring himself a glass and then, after a second of hesitation, begrudgingly poured y/n a glass too, “to think Steve would set her up is a reach.”

“Wanda would. She knew about the flights and the honeymoon package, and,” y/n got silent and took a big gulp of champagne when a sudden realization set in, “what were the rules of the contest?”

“I’m not Google on legs, y/n.” An aggravated sigh slipped past his lips.

She craved to spit a sarcastic comment at James but refrained against it.

“What if we have to pretend to be a couple? What if the contest is designed in a way that a pair of friends or strangers cannot redeem the prize, and we’ll have to pay for everything? Tony would skin us.”

“The receptionist mentioned something along the lines of people scamming the contest’s company, but this is utter nonsense. There were five winners in total, they couldn’t possibly monitor each pair.”

“They could take away the activities.” She raised a brow, finishing her drink. “Bye, bye scuba diving.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, we are,” the word got lost in his throat as James made a disgusted face, “a couple as of thirty minutes ago. In fact, we’re celebrating our fourth wedding anniversary.”

“The ID was issued a little over four years ago, Barnes.”

“And? You just had to run your big mouth and get us a reservation for a romantic dinner, didn’t you?”

“I panicked!” She raised her voice, finding a way into the bedroom. It was a monstrosity compared to the living room, decorated with not only rose petals but Hershey's chocolate kisses and candles everywhere. “The driver’s license I pulled happened to be under the name of Amelie Barnes, she saw it was issued a little over four years ago and most likely assumed I had changed my name soon after our wedding.”

“The wedding we never had.”

She had been wiping roses off the bed and onto the floor, emptying a pair of heavy suitcases on the satin sheets as soon as it was clean.

“It’s not like I could’ve snatched the ID and presented another. Perhaps she recognized you, the infamous Winter Soldier, but I, if you need a refresher,” the woman disappeared into the balcony when James came into the bedroom, “work under disguises.” Her voice was almost a whisper in the morning’s wind. “I’m the Avenger without a name.”

Nick Fury had imposed a great deal of strength and a great deal of sorrow upon y/n when she had finished S.H.I.E.L.D. training. She had excelled in many areas, but lying was her forte. The woman had once loved to be a ghost story, to embody a superhero without an identity, especially when fellow Avengers couldn't show faces in public without getting recognized. All good things come to an end, she had learned when the lies had become a burden, bleeding into her personal life, and y/n had found herself largely alone. James, a man she despised, had more genuine memories of y/n than her past lovers ever would. Over the years, it had evolved into as generous of a problem as it had been an opportunity.

“This is bad.” Bucky followed after her. “We cannot be seen together.”

“As if we usually are.”

“I’m being serious, y/n. Forget about the money. What if someone recognizes me and connects the quite obvious dots that you might be working for the Avengers as well?” James leaned on the balcony railing, too close to y/n for her enjoyment.

The woman stayed silent, enjoying the view. The sky was stained with various hues of blue, lighter than the endless ocean ahead of them. It was nothing short of breathtaking, glorious even. Hawaii was truly a paradise on Earth with its sandy air and pleasantly warm sun, whose rays gently caressed her skin.

“Officially you are retired. The public isn’t aware of your affiliation with Avengers.” She reminded. "Amelie Barnes is the wife of a retired officer, nothing less, nothing more."

There was a chance they could run into a former HYDRA agent or a politician the Avengers had tried and failed to lock up, but the chance was too slim to become a burden. Perhaps we could make this work, she thought and stole a glance at Bucky. She would stay on her side of the hotel while he would stay on his, and if need be, they’d pretend to be a couple without getting noticed by these vacationing villains James referred to. It had happened before, once, when Sam had a genius idea of catching an arms dealer at an upscale club in New York City. James had kissed her then, and much to y/n’s surprise, she hadn’t stopped breathing or dropped dead. They had caught the trafficker and went on their merry ways — Bucky continued to exhaust her ass at training, and y/n had switched his conditioner to body wash amongst other, less innocent, endeavors. Much to her dismay, his hair continued to stay shiny and, in Wanda’s words, quite fabulous.

“Yes, sergeant, villains just happen to vacation at The Maui Resort.” She poked fun at his obnoxious concerns, disappearing back into the bedroom.

As of now, there was only a single problem y/n needed to resolve.

Should she suggest James sleeps on the floor or in the marble bathtub?

TAGS:

@legohe4rts

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x Female Reader #insomniumstella #Where Dreams Go to Die #where dreams go to die bucky #where dreams go to die bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader

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onlycosmere · 5 months

Text

What book sequel are you STILL waiting for?

marsh642: It's been weeks since Brandon Sanderson released a book. I hope he's doing ok /s

PattableGreeb: One day I hope to be like that guy output-wise. Not necessarily in terms of volume, but like, the sheer ability to just get into it and commit without much fuss.

erossthescienceboss: I’m a writer, and deeply envy his ability to work within a schedule and use his time. Has he ever experienced writers’ block? At all? Like, I’m in nonfiction — I don’t even do creative writing! Yet so often, it’s like pulling teeth.

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott is a great book for those of us prone to writers’ block and procrastination (I related to Anne’s writing struggles deeply, and often wonder if she has undiagnosed ADHD) but I’d love to read a Sanderson guide to Actually Writing and Getting Shit Done.

Brandon Sanderson: I'd say that what you do, in nonfiction, is a different beast than what I do. I find nonfiction like pulling teeth too, sometimes!

Of course, fiction can be like that too. I do experience writer's block, but I am fortunate in several ways. One is that I managed to build a very good work ethic during my unpublished years, one I was mostly able to maintain after going professional. I also found a multitude of strategies for dealing with writer's block that have been helpful.

Once in a while, a book just doesn't work, though, and I DO abandon it and get into a funk for a while.

Simple guide for me is:

1) Make manageable goals.

2) Write consistently, and develop habits. Long hours are not as good as consistent hours. Crunching on a book burns you out. Instead, I follow the Stephen King method of shooting for around 2k words a day.

3) If I get into a funk, write anyway, planning to throw those words away. Then re-read them the next day and see if they are actually terrible, or if I was in a funk. Most common result if the words are bad is this: writing them gives my brain something to fix, and it does, giving me a new scene to try. But if I just stop, and don't write the bad words, I get stuck.

4) In emergencies, having something fun and different to work on can give a breather. This is where the Secret Projects came from.

Good luck! Don't know if that helps, but I hope it's at least interesting.

xXCoffeeCreamerXx: Step 2 is where I get caught up. I know I need to build good habits, but I simply can’t get started/stay consistent enough to form those habits. So is there a tip 1.25, 1.5, 1.75?

Brandon Sanderson: There is, but it's unfortunately not going to be quite as useful. That's the step that is most likely to be the tough one, but diagnosing what is causing it is a little like trying to diagnose a disease from a headache. Basically anything can cause you to have trouble building the habits, and so general advice is tougher to give. The solution will really depend on your personal psychology.

How have you built other habits? What motivates you? (Loaded question, I know.) An easy trick is to put your writing time just before or after something you do every week already, and don't have trouble remembering to do. Have a weekly raid with the WoW team? Add writing in before it for two hours. Go to the gym on a Saturday? Build a playlist of mood music for your story, imagine it while there, then stop at a library/cafe always on the way home and write for a few hours as part of the weekly routine.

Involving others in your life can help. Telling them your goals, and getting their buy-in to make you responsible. Starting/joining a writing group (which isn't for everyone, mind you, but works for some of us) so you have a responsibility to submit can work too, depending on if you're the type who will fill bad not having something to share each week after you promised to do so.

Like the cafe suggestion above, a lot of people have more success building a habit if it's something they go out and do--rather than something they do at home, particularly if you're trying to write in a space where you ordinarily relax.

But really, there's a WHOLE lot going on inside of us in regards to motivation, and the individual brain brew is unique to us all. I am helped by keeping a spreadsheet of work done, so I can watch the numbers count up and see my progress. Others I know need a stick or a carrot. Others work on a yearly habit (writing during the summers as a teacher, for example) rather than a weekly one.

And all of that is assuming you're not avoiding writing for other reasons, such as performance anxiety, fear of the blank page, or a sense that something's wrong with your story you don't know how to fix.

Best of luck. Like I said, the advice here might not be as good/relevant as either of us would like. But maybe there's something in it you can take away.

#writing advice #long post #brandon sanderson #cfsbf #root #branderson

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peachdues · 10 months

Text

Phantasmagoria: Teaser — Douma’s Assault

(NSFW Sanemi x Reader Tell Me to Stop — modern AU)

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This teaser is from a later part of Phantasmagoria (likely the end of Part 2 or Part 3)

Playlist. Other teasers here and here.

CW: implied attempted SA; Douma doesn’t respect women but Akaza/Hakuji does; Sanemi gets violent.

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Kyojuro answered the phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” Kyojuro said, his tone surprised. Sanemi perked up at the boy’s name from their hometown, but he was filled with unease as he beheld the darkness which clouded Kyojuro’s face.

“We’re on our way,” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s wary gaze.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already standing, his keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but he halts when his phone dings in time with Kyojuro’s, alerting them both to a group text sent from an unknown number.

It was a text image, and though only half of her face was visible, it was clearly Y/N.

And she looked fucking terrified.

Mascara had streaked down her cheeks from her tears as she held her arms out protectively in front of her; but her too-thin arms could not obscure the bloodied, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! A follow-up text read.

Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked to his friend in horror but he blanched at the shine of murderous rage in Sanemi’s eyes, the latter visibly shaking as he stared at the image on his phone.

“Let’s go,” was all Sanemi said, and with a nod, the two high-tailed it out of Kyojuro’s apartment and into his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N — you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened the door to a hidden closet behind the lofted stairs in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a truck stored within the small half-cupboard. “Thank you, Hakuji — I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N — she had always been kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people who called him by his actual name rather than the abhorrent nickname he’d been stuck with.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Azaka grimaced, leaning on the doorway as the crying girl recollected herself. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned, before adding quietly, “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N only nodded, too tired and too freaked out to summon the effort to say anything more. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me, and I really don’t want him to find you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else — I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded again. “Thanks, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————

Y/N sat for what felt like an eternity on Hakuji’s dusty storage trunk, foot jiggling nervously as she waited for her escape out of the hellhole she’d found herself in. The party was still raging on downstairs, but a sudden thump followed by several gasps and screams made her heart catch in her throat, and her stomach began to twist with panic.

Y/N heard footsteps coming up the staircase towards Hakuji’s room, and she began to hyperventilate as they drew closer, rapidly approaching the closet door. Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sob building in her chest as the knob began to twist and jerk.

“Y/N. It’s me — open up.” The voice on the other side was not Hakuji, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her sobbing again, only this time in relief. With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his face furious and tight. Kyojuro had always been a man of passionate emotions, but the cold ire that lined his face as his eyes narrowed at the spot of blood dried on Y/N’s top was enough to make her want to run and hide. However, his hands betrayed none of the anger he undoubtedly felt as he gripped Y/N’s wrist gently and hauled her to her feet. Kyojuro’s warm hand remained closed around hers as he led her from Hakuji’s room — the latter only giving her a nod of reassurance as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the stairs leading down from Hakuji’s loft to the main floor of the house, the party below having gone eerily quiet save for only the occasional gasp.

Kyojuro turned back to her, his face stony. “Whatever you think you hear, don’t look. Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here.” He warned, and Y/N’s stomach was leaden with dread at the unspoken promise of violence in her best friend’s eyes.

Slowly, the pair descended the stairs, nearly making it to the front door when a strange, wet thud abruptly snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before. The crowd, rather than reveling, had instead parted around two men hunched on the floor, staring only in shock.

It was Sanemi. Sanemi, who had Douma pinned beneath his knees as he mercilessly pounded his fist into the face of her would-be assailant until the latter’s face was nearly unrecognizable and covered in scarlet as Sanemi’s knuckles slammed into him, over and over. Beneath him, Douma merely wheezed out a laugh, egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, wanting to cry out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door before she could.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Let him get it out.”

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#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny #kny sanemi #kyojuro rengoku #kny rengoku #kny douma #akaza #hakuji

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 1 year

Text

What if... you were the Kingpin and they were the detectives? Bonus chapter | BTS OT7 au

This was supposed to be a drabble... but 7.8K words later (insert facepalm here)

Warnings: stockholm syndrome? Suggestive scenes, yandere tendencies, alluded noncon (kissing)... kidnapping (depends on your perspective), smut but not smut, mentions of death, angry Hobi, angry Tae, bruises, injuries, corruption, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, control.

Playlist : Chills (Dark Version) - Mickey Valen & Joey Myron, Friends - Chase Atlantic Captain Namjoon, Detective Hyung line, Officer Maknae line

He hadn’t said a word since he entered the ward three hours ago, flipping between ignoring you or staring at you so intently you could feel the pressure of his gaze like an uncomfortable weight. There was no sign of emotion or thought on his face, unless it was anger whenever you moved or spoke. Hoseok found the whole thing amusing, wondering when the young officer was going to explode. They both sat on either side of your hospital bed, today you managed to sit up and although you wouldn’t admit it, you were thankful for the morphine that dulled the ache in your injuries.

You glance at the detective for the umpteenth time in question when Taehyung almost growls, his eyes on the floor, his jaw clenched hard when you try to speak to him. Hobi has to fight back the laughter, how does he tell you Tae was punishing you in his own way for your recklessness. Not allowing himself to talk to you was a punishment for himself too, for the fact they could’ve been too late. He exhales through his nose harshly, you swore there was steam.

“Okay seriously what is your problem?” Your voice was still hoarse, but it had only been a day since you woke from the attack and after three hours of his petulant behaviour, you had enough. You tried being patient but being stuck here because of them wasn’t making patience your strongest suit. “Seriously, I didn’t ask to be he-”

You almost choke on your words as they fly back down your throat at his glare. Coward, a small voice inside of you mocks, but even behind that voice you could feel the undertone of weariness. You’re so glad your men can’t see you now, although you’re not sure they’d survive a second of Kim Taehyung’s wrath themselves.

You break eye contact first with a scoff, trying to build back your authority in a situation where it didn’t matter. If one of your underlings looked at you like that, he would have a bullet in each eye no questions asked. This Officer was seriously pushing you to your limits. Fine, if he wanted to behave like a two year old for no good reason, you’d ignore his little pathetic display.

Hobi watches your jaw clench in anger, finding the silent fight between you and your expression amusing.

“Can you get your ridiculous Captain on the phone?” You say to Hoseok without glancing at him, your attention spent on flicking aggressively through a magazine.

“Why little love, are you upset he hasn’t come to visit?”

You scoff again but he swears he can see you try to hide a sense of embarrassment from your features. Maybe he hit the mark, Namjoon would be pleased to hear of it.

“I’d like to know how much longer I’m going to be serving my sentence for,” you roll your eyes, every word containing a spiteful bite despite the weakness in your voice.

“He’s busy,” Hoseok disregards the comment entirely, eyes on his own book although he hadn’t read a word since arriving. Why would you want to leave? Did Jackson hit you so hard in the head you forgot what happened? The sound of kissing teeth makes you glance at Taehyung, narrowing your eyes at him before you now give the older male your attention.

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Here.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken as they find you, he leans closer, rising from his chair until his face was in front of yours.

“I. Don’t. Care,” he says with as much conviction as you had, his tone dead serious, warning you not to challenge him but you were always one to defy those who tried to control you. Your shocked face contorts into anger.

“Fuck this,” you mutter, shoving the bed sheets off you as you swing your legs down. As you’re about to rip the IV from your arm, a grip on wrists stops you. Hoseok’s face is blank when you stare daggers into it.

“Have you looked in the mirror?” There’s a weight in his voice that you had never heard before, his amused veil wiped bare to reveal his true disposition. His eyes glance down at the bruises he tried to ignore until he was forced to acknowledge them. He tried to keep the atmosphere light since his arrival since you were recovering, but of course your bratty nature would force his hand.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you snap back, breaking your wrist out of his hold since his grasp slackened at your words. It cut him, to think of you getting hurt and they were unaware of you suffering alone.

“You’ll leave when you’re better,” he says, signalling that it was the end of the argument but you could never just let things be, not when the control was out of your hands.

“I’ll leave when I want to.”

He closes his eyes for a second after he watches you rip the IV out of your arm, trying to control the surge of anger and disappointment. You were lashing out, that was all, he would have to exercise his patience.

You move too fast, forgetting your own condition as you jump off the bed. Or maybe it was the drugs that had dulled your senses including common sense and reason. Whatever it was, its magic didn’t last long, you stumble pitifully when you try to stomp away, trying to hold yourself up proudly until a stabbing pain in your side forces you to crumble.

“Can you stop!”

You’re held up against his chest as he glances down at your now bleeding wound, the movement having pulled your stitches apart. You’re dizzy, looking up at the swaying figure of Taehyung, or was the room spinning? He seemed solid, the rest of the world moving in circles around you. Finally, he spoke to you. You don’t realise you’ve sighed in relief, staring up at him. He could give you his scolding expression all he wanted, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You don’t fight him when he takes you back to the bed, ranting loudly with so much aggression even when Hoseok grabs the doctor to close your opened stitches. He holds your hand as they work on you, even as he hurls furious words at you.

“Why are you so stupidly stubborn? Stop behaving like a brat! You’re acting like we’re keeping you here for the sake of it, like we enjoy seeing you like this,” behind the anger you can hear the hurt, the sadness hiding behind the rumbling deep tone. “How many times do you need to nearly die before you realise you’re not invincible!”

You didn’t say a word, taking every stab of his complaints, squeezing his hand when the needle pierced your skin. He stops then, kissing your hand a hundred times through the pain. It’s only when the doctor leaves he hides his expression behind your clasped hand, his head bowed low so his hair covers his eyes. He’s still, too still.

“You looked like you were dead,” his voice breaks and you can hear the tears before you feel them on your skin.

You must look like a deer in headlights when he meets your gaze again, unable to comprehend he was crying over this. The others hadn’t so you just never expected him to, or considered he would.

He sniffs, his tears flowing freely and he doesn’t stop them. You don’t know why you feel compelled to, but you wipe them away with the hand he wasn’t holding, reaching over carefully. He nuzzles into your hand, seeking comfort after revealing his vulnerabilities, bringing the other hand to his other cheek.

“Don’t do it again,” he scolds you as harshly as he can before he starts sobbing. You watch him breakdown between your hands, the sight gripping your heart in a way you weren’t familiar with. It made you ache, you actually felt like apologising but the words were stuck on the tip of your tongue, your stubborn pride refusing to let them out.

“Come here,” you say softly instead, shuffling carefully back to make room for him. He doesn’t hesitate, crawling into your arms quickly like he craved to be held. You play with his hair when he presses his face into your chest, his arms wrapping around you tentatively, aware not to hold you as tight as he wanted. You hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart started beating, or the rate it was galloping at as a reaction to his proximity.

Just as you’re trying to calm down, you’re startled by Hoseok pulling your other arm around the officer, so you were comforting him properly.

“Taehyung be careful,” he warns, before leaving you both alone for a moment. He needed to update the others on your behaviour and the consequences of it anyway. They weren’t going to be impressed to say the least.

“I wasn’t there,” he breathes, his lips coming away from your chest so you can hear him, but his forehead and eyes still nuzzled there as he relived it. “I just saw you being carried out like a body.”

He shudders against you, the onslaught of tears making it harder to get his words out. He thought he was going to have to plan your funeral, the thought plunged him into a deep abyss he was still crawling out of.

“Do you know how long we were waiting for you to wake up?” He cries, “We didn’t leave your side until Namjoon hyung forced us too, when they said you were stable, but I didn’t believe them.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you blink them back fast, it wasn’t the situation that caused them to water but the raw heartbreak in his voice.

“I just kept thinking, what if they were lying? What if you didn’t wake up?”

He remembers how Jimin and Jungkook had to drag him out on the Captain’s orders, as he begged them to not make him leave you. No one gave into his tears, not the detectives, not his fellow officers. Safe to say he didn’t talk to anyone until now. He wouldn’t forgive them for taking him away from you either.

—

It had been a week… you were going crazy. The only human contact you had, if you could call them human, were your police officer turned babysitting bodyguards. Or the hospital staff that didn’t say a word to you. You tried a couple of times to make conversation, but they all glanced with worry at the men blocking your exit and discharge which made things clear enough. Hell, you had done similar things in your line of work, but it was still odd to be the one stuck in the cage rather than the one with the key.

You watch the clock on the wall turn to 8, something about it both soothed and irritated you. The fact time was moving, there was proof of it, but you were stuck in the same loop of a day over and over again.

“Love, you need to eat a little more or Jin hyung’s going to kill me tomorrow,” Yoongi sighs as he watches you pace the room, Jungkook standing at the door way poised and ready to catch you if you try to run… again.

You had to stop underestimating them, it was what foiled your plans over and over. So you look at the facts, for some reason these men were interested in you. And the one thing they wanted from you so far, that you could tell, was your attention. They seemed to crave it in fact… So what if you gave in?

You already tried fighting your way out which proved useless in your current state, especially when there were two of them and only one feeble mess of you. So the seduction tactic it was, it was a bit outdated for your liking but a classic foolproof method nonetheless.

Jungkook and Yoongi watch the furrow of your brows as you stare at the floor with your pacing, like the answer to your escape was written there and you were reading intently. They could see a scheme form behind your eyes, already sighing internally for the next fight. Yoongi was so close to just lacing your IV with something to get you to settle the fuck down, as much as he loved your antics on a normal day, he didn’t appreciate them when they were slowing your recovery.

Jungkook on the other hand didn’t mind your prison break attempts, he took it as a little game you played with them, like a grown up version of kiss chase. And sure enough, every time he caught you he would kiss you, getting bolder each time he did.

“I’m not hungry for food,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. You were hungry for freedom.

“If you eat a little, we can go out for a while, how about a walk in the park?” Yoongi suggests innocently. Did he seriously expect you to take the bait? Your eyes narrow, giving him the side eye as you pace past him, that was not going to work twice Min Yoongi.

He bites his lips to stop from chuckling too loudly, he knew you wouldn’t fall for that again, he just wanted a reaction from you.

You stop your pacing with a sigh, head tilting back as you groan out your frustration, before you turn your gaze to the guard puppy blocking the door.

“I don’t know why you’re standing there like a prison guard,” you scoff in disbelief. “As if I’m going to outrun you in this state.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a distrusting look in his eyes as he takes in your nonchalance.

“You’ve tried ten times before, and opened your stitches twice.”

You roll your eyes again, who was keeping count? But that was the opening you were looking for.

“Maybe I just like getting caught,” you shrug, taking a step towards him. You see his jaws slacken as he gets caught in your suggestive stare, like a doe in headlights. His gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Or maybe I like being punished.”

He watches your eyes travel down the length of him, his blood following until there's none left in his head, it makes him fuzzy, his every focus on you. Your gaze is slow to move up to his face, as if you were savouring the tone of his body and every muscle he had to offer you. There’s a dare in your eyes, you haven’t closed the distance between you, you were making him do it.

“Come on Kookie,” you tease, watching his eyes glaze over at the pet name and how sweetly you called for him. “Are you going to keep making a girl run for your attention?”

You tilt your head to the side, grinning as you hum in question. You turn to Yoongi, manspread on the chair like an invitation. His tongue peeking out to wet his lips when you look at him, hooded eyes shamelessly checking you out, calling you to him. He grins, shaking his head softly. He knew exactly what you were doing, the younger officer did too, he just didn’t care.

“Maybe I should just play with Yoongi instead.”

You bite your lips to stop yourself from chuckling as Jungkook finally moves towards you. You’re engulfed in him in a second, his palm on the back of your head as his lips find yours urgently. He moans deep into your soul when you reciprocate, you hadn’t done that before and it made him want to lose all thought and reason. The hand on your waist squeezes tightly, like he was checking you were real, this was real and not another wet dream. He groans against your lips again, not coming away from you for a second to breathe, this was so much better than anything he could have imagined, the taste of you on his tongue, he always craved it and now he was never going to let it go.

“Jungkook, you’re both recovering, slow down,” Yoongi mumbles, trying not to sound affected as he watched you both, his expression bored but the way his fingers dug into his thighs would give him away if you looked at him.

His words take a second to sink in, a frown on your face as you tear away from the maknae, a needy whimper escaping his lips as they try to follow yours but you push him back. Your attention snaps to Yoongi instead, holding the desperate man at arms length while he tries to fight the space between you away.

“What do you mean by both recovering?”

He doesn’t answer. You look at Jungkook with accusing eyes, fire in them that makes him look at you with a pout. He hadn’t been listening, why were you suddenly so upset?

“I asked you if you were hurt,” you grit your teeth, trying to contain the rage that ignited in your chest. He denied it, you remember, or had he avoided giving you a direct answer? His limbs have settled by his side, watching you tentatively with his doe eyes, like a child being scolded.

You tug his top up, revealing his abs but you can’t admire them when they're covered in bruises. Faded, but still there, even after a week. Your mind flashes back to that night, remembering how badly he got hit, of course he was going to be injured and yet the idiot behaved like he was fine. You were set like a volcano ready to erupt, burning rage on the tip of your tongue ready to set him alight but he beats you to it.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” his eyes gloss over as he says it, a sad pout defusing the bomb that was a millisecond away from exploding, your anger fizzling out when he looked at you so pitifully. Your gaze falls back to his wounds, trying to understand why it affected you so much. Your men have died for you before, and while it was upsetting, it was also their jobs. These 7 men that have infiltrated your life have no ties to you, but they saved you that day.

“Stop getting hurt for me,” you mumble, your finger tracing around the bruise, avoiding his eyes completely.

“Never,” Jungkook promises proudly, taking your hand away from his injuries, kissing them as he admired the way you tried to avoid his gaze. “I’d give my life for you, little love.”

You roll your eyes as if he were joking, but you could hear how sincere his tone was, and it scared the shit out of you. You seriously needed to get your wits about you and leave.

“Sit on the bed,” you tell him too softly for it to be a command. He does as he’s told without letting go of your hand, pulling you along with him as he sits in front of you.

“Shuffle back,” you tell him, and he does, eyes looking up at you like saucers when you straddle him, your fingers on the nape of his neck. You tug his head back by his hair, his adam apple bobbing again at the change in tension, but this time it was within your reach. You never found a man’s throat so sexy before. You press your lips to it, grinning when he openly moaned at such a small action. His hands find your hips, gripping so tightly you wondered if you were going to get matching bruises.

You kiss his jugular, biting softly before chuckling when he swears with a groan, trying to ground himself but he was past intoxicated when it came to you.

“I want this off sweetie,” you tug his top again, whispering in his ear like it was a dirty secret.

He fumbles to take his top off in a hurry, afraid you could change your mind any minute, the fabric brushing his hair into a mess. The sight has you stifling your own sounds, but what has your arousal dripping is the look in his eyes. He looked drunk, his droopy eyes trying so hard to stay open and take you in but wanting to close so he could savour each feeling you were giving him.

You peck his lips, and he keeps them pursed for you, asking for another. You smirk, kissing the corner of his mouth, giving him a little of what he wants before working your way down his neck, finding the junction where his broad shoulders began.

“Oh f-fuck-”

His hands pull you flush against him when you start sucking on the skin, swipes of your tongue cooling the sting of each bite. He starts rutting his hips up like a reflex, he whines like he’s begging for you, wordless but the desperation is there loud and clear.

You hold back your own sounds of approval when you feel his length pressing and brushing against all the right places despite the clothes between you. You could lose yourself to this, but you try to keep your head clear, even if every sound coming from his lips made you want to fuck him on the damn bed, be damned if anyone sees or hears. Your fingers find his hair again, tugging it back harshly to ground yourself.

You hear a chuckle beside the debauchery you were making, almost forgetting about the feline eyes watching you. He glances at the string of saliva still connecting you both when you pull away, swallowing air to keep himself composed when he meets the raw carnal energy in your eyes while the man under you stuck his head into your breasts, unable to handle being so far apart. You stroke the back of his head with a laugh, your stare still on Min Yoongi like you were going to pounce on him too, and he hopes to hell you are.

“You scared away all the staff,” he comments, gesturing to the glass doors of the ward. You have to bite back the grin of victory when you confirm his words, keeping your wits about you. There were still a few people from what you could gather, but you could deal with that.

“Hmmm,” you acknowledge as if the news meant nothing to you, looking the detective dead in the eye, “it’s your own private show Yoongi.”

You watch the way he rubs his thigh, eyes on the tent in his jeans that look uncomfortable.

“Or were you hoping for a part,” you mumble, gaze fixed on his length as your mouth watered. You exhale slowly, how touch deprived were you, when all you could think about was putting him in your mouth. “Turn off the light Yoongi, I don’t want you to arrest me for indecent exposure.”

He chuckles, happily turning off the lights with the switches next to him without taking his eyes off you. The message in them was clear, your move.

Jungkook claws at your thighs when you start to climb off him, a series of disapproving jumbled nonsense tumbling out of his mouth.

“N-no Noon-a sstay,” his arm pushes your chest against his, locking you against him as he tries to kiss you again, lips clumsy but passionate as they find yours. He hums into your mouth like he had a craving fixed, losing himself to the sensation. Your hand finds his throat, squeezing around the skin it could cover. His lips part in a groan, clouded eyes staring into your own. He gulps, you can feel the movement against your palm, pushing him back until his lips were only grazing yours.

“If you want me,” you whisper. “You have to behave.”

He shakes his head desperately when you start to move away from him again.

“Be good for me Kookie, come on,” you try to placate him, pulling on his belt, “take these off for me while I go look after your hyung, okay?”

Yoongi’s surprised by how he listens to your soft instructions, but he can’t focus on that when you're striding towards him. For a second he really wants to give into this, believe that this wasn’t a scheme and you were accepting their affection for you. But he knows better. That didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge a little.

He bites his lips when your hooded eyes look down on him, taking in his pretty features with a smile. You lean down, a hand on the armrest beside his own to support yourself, fingers of your other hand softly stroking his hair back as he tilts his head to look up at you, your faces inches from each other. You look like you’re admiring him, your gaze flickering across his face as you take him in. You trace his cheek, the slow process making his hands clutch the arm rests as he holds himself back. He wanted you to kiss him too, but he wanted it to be your choice, for you to make the first move and claim him. He wanted his love to be reciprocated, for real, but he’d take this illusion for now.

“You’re so pretty Yoongi,” you whisper sincerely, your gaze on his lips as your thumb brushes where he had bitten.

He thinks it’s a dream when you finally close the distance, differently to what you had with Jungkook, your lips soft against his. You pull away too soon but he lets you, your eyes searching his for something, whatever it was he’d give it to you, whatever you wanted. His hand holds onto the back of your thigh, as if he was scared you would pull away too far.

“Do you know how often I would get into trouble, hoping I would find myself in an interrogation room with you,” you confess with a smile, it reaches your eyes, little creases under them where your cheeks fill. He looks for the lie in your features, and either you were too good at it for him to spot your tell, or you were giving him the truth he longed for.

“Is that why you would grin so happily when I walked in little love,” he smirks but it turns into a gummy smile when you nod emphatically.

“I wanted to see my pretty detective,” your eyes glance down at his lips again. His smile fades, his mouth parted as the term repeats in his head, stuck in a loop like his favourite song. Your detective…. Your pretty detective.

If you were playing him you were doing it a little too well, like you knew exactly what they wanted to hear, what would make them lose their minds to their dicks.

“Let me see my pretty detective Yoongi,” you croon to him, hand on the button of his jeans, undoing it slowly while maintaining eye contact.

You kiss him again, more urgently this time, fingers pulling down his zipper, brushing against his cock. His hips jut at the sensation, his blood pounding in his head threatening to cut off all sense if he didn’t pull himself together. His hand wraps around your wrist to stop you moving any further, but he keeps kissing you, more fervently not wanting to cut you off completely, just enough to keep an ounce of his wavering sanity and control.

He lets you pull away for breath, leaning your forehead against his as you try to fill your lungs.

“You’re still dressed love,” he comments, the insinuation in his voice clear. He loved you, but he didn’t trust you.

You giggle, and his lips lift at the sound, revealing to you just how whipped he really was. It was okay if he didn’t trust you, you didn’t need his trust right now.

“Should we fix that?” You ask, he lets you go as you take a step back. You wiggle your hips a little, laughing when you hear a frustrated groan come from the bed. You’re thankful Jungkook still has his boxers on when you sneak a peek at his figure, the light from the corridor enough for you to see him, but still making it dark enough that navigating in the room would be difficult. His eyes don’t leave you as he lays on the bed, wanting you to straddle him again. That was one boy in position. One last thing left to do.

“Shall we all do it together?” you suggest playfully, hoping they’d take the bait. It was such a shame you couldn’t indulge them all the way, maybe another day.

Your fingers play with the hem of your top, pulling it up slowly to reveal your skin. Both men watch intently, brains running blanks.

“Come on,” you push, pausing with the material bunching under your boobs. You pull it up a fraction, the lace of your bra did little to cover your skin. You were annoyed at the selection they brought to the hospital for your stay, calling the perverts out, but it had its uses now you admit.

“Kookie take your boxers off, Yoongi your jeans,” you instruct them carefully, “I don’t beg boys, be good for me please.”

The statement was contradictory, you knew, but it worked. Jungkook fumbles on the bed, trying to take his boxers off clumsily. The cool detective finally gives in, pulling his jeans down. The second they’re at his ankles, you make a run for it.

For the first time in all your escape attempts you actually make it out the door, but there’s no time for victory, you don’t think it'll take them long to put some form of clothing back on and chase you. Even still you couldn’t help the glee on your face, that is, until you’re lifted in the air much quicker than you had anticipated.

What the fuck? You try to look behind you at who the culprit was, catching a glimpse of a very naked Jeon Jungkook on a reflective surface, face burning as you realise he really did run after you in his birthday suit. Damn… you hadn’t accounted for that, not when there were still some nurses and ward clerks around. Wow, he really had no shame.

You know he’s pissed when you can see all the veins protruding out of his arms where he held onto you, the pressure making it hard to breathe. You still try to kick out of his grasp, but he doesn’t seem phased as he walks back into the empty ward. Unceremoniously you’re chucked on the bed, two sets of disappointed and glaring eyes on your form clearly despite the darkness.

“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Yoongi states as he zips his jeans, letting you know, you didn’t have them fooled for a second.

“I was hoping she would wait until after the fun,” Jungkook grumbles, still very much naked you realise. You look away before it pulls your attention, chest beating hard as you stay quiet.

Well that was definitely fun, but your plan was foiled.

“I trust you realise what you’ve started, little love,” Yoongi chuckles, returning to his original position in the chair like nothing happened. “When the others hear about this… they might not be able to hold back.”

He laughs when your head snaps toward him, eyes begging for him to not say a word or you were going to have hell to deal with when the rest of them demanded your attention. Oh you had royally fucked up… You could already hear exactly what they were going to say, the way they would whine and complain until you gave in.

You still had no idea how long this prison sentence was going to last, and you had inadvertently made things so much worse for yourself.

—

“Good morning little love!” Jin says extra loudly, waking Jungkook from his slumber in the chair, his body leaned over so his head was in your lap. The boy must’ve been uncomfortable in that position but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Jin,” you greet him curtly, but your heart was already beating wildly in anticipation. You eye him cautiously, trying to hold onto your mask.

Jin had… his own ways to try and heal you. And he swore they were working, which is why he didn’t let up, not listening to reason when you argued you were naturally healing and his hocus pocus physical therapy was bullshit. He didn’t even wait for Yoongi and Jungkook to leave, already climbing onto the bed with no hesitation, the pair chuckling in amusement as you try to hide your embarrassment, the magazine you were pretending to read held higher to cover your face. Your shield gets snatched away from you, the detective giving you a stern look before an expectant one, his eyebrow rising when you didn’t rush into position for him.

You gulp, trying your best to stubbornly glare at him.

“What is he doing?” Yoongi mutters to Jimin, intrigued by the staring match you both had going on.

“Hyung's new medical treatment,” Jimin snickers with a wide grin, finding the whole situation entertaining as he sat beside the bed where Yoongi previously was.

“Love,” Jin says patiently, ignoring the conversation. “Lie down.”

The change in his eyes is what has you almost listening before you catch yourself. That soft look that turned dark with the promise he would bend you into behaving like you were a puppet on string.

“Pervert,” you mumble, looking away with an eye roll to hide the fact you could physically no longer keep your gaze on the man, effectively forfeiting the staring match.

You hear him sigh, but refuse to see his expression, crossing your arms in complete defiance.

“Yah, can you two hurry and leave,” he huffs at you previous babysitters, “little love’s feeling shy with you both here.”

Yoongi grins smugly as Jungkook laughs before smirking wickedly.

“I don’t think that’s it hyung,” Yoongi teases, gummy teeth on show as you send him a warning glare. “You didn’t see our darling last night.”

“Ahem,” Jungkook clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, before complaining rather dramatically, “my neck’s feeling a bit itchy.”

He pulls down his neck line of his top, pretending to scratch the skin, baring his neck to his audience so no one could miss the mark you left. He smiles gleefully, looking innocent despite his intentions. You actually facepalm, ears starting to burn at his antics, especially in front of Jin who now was eerily quiet. You were maybe slightly possibly too intimidated to look? You were the scary mafia boss outside of these walls, but completely at their mercy in these circumstances… as much as you hated it, that was the truth to your current predicament, and you were slowly learning to accept it.

“I want one,” Jimin whines, tugging at your arm, pulling your hand away from your face, leaving you uncovered. Well here was karma…

“I think we should leave now Love,” Yoongi sounds too impressed with himself, especially as you scowl at him.

“Have fun with the hyungs,” Jungkook laughs evilly, enjoying the mess he was leaving you to clean up after your antics last night.

You watch them leave, wanting to follow them. Why couldn’t they take you with them, you were feeling so much better, why were they holding you hostage here, just to torture you with their attention.

“Heaven, I think you should lie down now,” Jimin suggests, his eyes on Jin while yours still couldn’t meet him. You dare a glance, finding the man in question staring a hole into your skull.

“Lie down,” he commands before adding, “now.”

The younger of the two giggles at the pout you wear when you finally give in, of course rolling your eyes before you do. He sits more comfortably, waiting for the show to begin, his right foot coming to rest on his left thigh, his right elbow on his knee, resting his jaw in his palm as he leaned close to you. You could see the amusement in his eyes as they turned into happy crescents at your misfortune.

Jin lies on top of you as if it was the most natural normal thing in the world, you stare intensely at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than how touch starved you were, close to diagnosing yourself with Stockholm syndrome. That must be it, why you actually liked feeling his weight along your torso, it was because you were stuck here with limited exposure to actual human beings and not these crack cases.

There’s a second of anticipation that has you fighting the urge to squirm until finally his lips press against your throat. You feel him smile at the sharp intake of breath through your lips, your fingers desperately playing with the sheets to stop yourself from touching him anymore than you already were. He works on the bruises there slowly, inspecting them closely, noting with a pleased hum that they were fading. He doesn’t tell you he can feel your heart thumping against him, even though he wants to tease you about it. He pulls away from you just enough to inspect your face, chuckling under his breath at how intently you were staring at nothing. He sends Jimin a look before diving back into your neck, resuming his slow paced kissing.

You feel fingers on your cheek, little caresses calling your attention, tilting your head to look at the officer gazing down on you with his full attention. He smiles when your eyes fall on him, his own heart racing. He still can’t believe he has you here, in his reach, where you can’t pull away.

“Your bruises are fading little love,” Jimin states airily, watching your dilated eyes, wanting nothing more than to drown in them. “Hyung’s technique must be working.”

Normally you would scoff, you would deny it with so much passion and conviction it would hurt them, but you don’t even muster an eye roll. He can see the fight in your eyes simmer to nothing, a softness in them he rarely was privileged to see.

And then you take the sight away from him but he doesn’t mind when it comes with a small whine, your eyes closed, head tilting back as you try to hold the sound back. Jimin’s other hand claws into his leg, unable to handle the way his blood suddenly pumped south.

“I thought you were meant to heal the marks, not make more,” you call Jin out, trying to sound put together but it still comes out slightly breathless.

He lets out a guilty chuckle, although he feels no apology for his actions when you react like that. He can feel you tense when he does it again, his parted lips sucking on your skin, his tongue painting you. Finally your hands press against his arms, as if you were pushing him back, but there’s no force behind it. He doesn’t think you realise you’re holding your breath, only releasing it when your lungs force you to.

You couldn’t ground yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You hated feeling vulnerable and these so called police officers were peeling your thick skin back layer by layer until they got to see every inch of you. And the worst part of it was you wanted to give in.

A shrill ring makes you both jump, Jin finally pulling away from you when the noise is followed by vibrations felt in your legs. He groans in resentment at the interruption, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he climbs out of the bed.

It takes you a second to get your bearings back, your eyes wandering to Jimin who’s stare hasn’t broken despite the rude interlude to his favourite show. Your skin tingles at his gaze, a weird mix of soft intensity in them making that vulnerable feeling increase tenfold.

“Yah why do you pick the wrong times to call?” Jin seethes through the phone, looking over at you as he speaks. With both sets of eyes on you still lying down, you felt your limbs gear into motion, sitting up and pushing your embarrassment out of existence. You seriously needed to get out of here before you lost all shred of your dignity and pride. How were you going to face your men and lead them into criminal chaos after this? Who knows what was happening to your empire when you were stuck here playing some sick game of house.

Jin sighs through the phone, walking over to you and holding it out or you to take.

“It’s for you,” he grumbles, pacing the room when you take it from him.

One look at caller ID has your nerves on edge, little butterflies in your stomach that you shoot down one by one.

“Nice of you to visit your favourite criminal,” you say in place of greeting, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t even send me flowers, but it’s so good of you to call.”

“Yoongi tells me you’re misbehaving, little love,” he says through the line, revealing why he was prompted to call at all. “Can’t you behave just this once, for me?”

Your heart thumped so hard at his voice you’re sure Jimin and Jin heard it going off the sudden smirks on their faces, or maybe it was the look on your face you were now schooling. You swallow before answering, berating yourself for reacting. It was always your bad behaviour that made the Captain pay you any attention you realise, what you were going to do with that information, you didn’t know just yet.

“I’d like to see you try to make me behave, Captain Kim,” You challenge. “Come and give it a go, I’d like to see you fail.”

He chuckles, the sound making you want to smile too but you fight it.

“Are you missing me that much Love?”

The audacity and confidence in his tone makes you want to deny it outright. If you were, you would take that confession to the grave.

“Mmmm I’ll show you just how much if you agree to let me go,” you tease through the line, watching Jimin bite his lips at your tone. “Come on, you can’t be that concerned if you send your underlings to do your dirty work.”

“Did she just call us underlings?” Jin spits comically but outraged, eyes turning into angry saucers as he starts ranting at Jimin about your ungratefulness.

Namjoon turns quiet, it has your confidence faltering, eyes on your bed sheets as you pick at a nonexistent stray thread. Insecurity was a new feeling, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t even know why it reared its head, but something was forcing you to gain his reassurance.

“You really have no idea, do you?” he breathes through the line after what feels like a lifetime. “Be patient love, I’ll show you just how concerned I am.”

“Promise?” You try to sound like you were joking, your inner voice berating you for behaving so weakly, but you blamed it on being stuck in this place. It was a side effect of your current situation, you weren’t in your throne right now, you were recovering and it wasn’t just your body that needed healing.

“I promise,” the deep timbre of his voice that could rival Taehyung’s made your heart flutter against your wishes. “Now be good.”

“I can’t guarantee it,” you reply, feeling the end of the conversation nearing, and you didn’t want it to.

He chuckles again unsurprised, and you wish he was here for you to witness it.

“I have to go, little love,” he says, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“So go,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Who’s stopping you? I’m a busy woman anyway, running an empire and all- oh wait no, I’m stuck here.”

Your eyes narrow as if he could see you, hoping you filled your voice with enough venom to cover your previous vulnerability.

“Well since you’re recovering so well I guess we can give you a reward,” he states. “Leave it with me, I can’t have your empire crumbling, you would never forgive me.”

“Or just let me leave.”

“No.”

You huff, passing the phone back to Jin without a goodbye, turning away from them, trying to conceal the fact that your heart ached for reasons unknown to even yourself.

—

You’re asleep when Namjoon steps through the ward doors, the lights are all off, only the dim hum of them peered through from the corridor but he could see your figure perfectly. Taehyung was asleep beside you, it both warmed his heart and struck a chord of jealousy in him, watching the officer holding you so tightly against his chest, slotting behind you perfectly. Yoongi doesn’t say a word in greeting, just nodding from his chair to acknowledge the new presence, his arms crossed as he stayed guard.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Yoongi whispers his discontent as Namjoon’s thumb brushes against your temple and cheek, watching you breath with a silent fondness.

He only gives the older male a look, not piercing but a testament to his decision being final. He leaves his gift on the bedside table, turning away from you to leave while he still could. He had been away from you for too long, the abstinence carved a cavity in his chest but he had little choice in the matter.

The higher ups were watching him, he still had an inquiry about that night, covering it up was proving to be more difficult than he hoped. Not to mention the bribes he was pulling to make the matter go away, he barely had time to eat in the day or sleep at night, but it would all be worth it when it was over and dealt with.

Yoongi watches him leave, noting the tiredness in his eyes, the slouch in his form, glad that their Captain was handling it and trusting him completely that he would. The worst case scenario running through their minds was imprisonment, they barely could keep tabs on you in the world. How were they meant to, if you were stuck in one site, and they were chained away in another?

His eyes fall on you, the peace in your features as you sleep. They would never let it come to that. In his peripherals, Namjoon’s ‘gift’ catches his attention again, the detective almost scowling at it. Your phone taunted him with the reminders of what came with it, they just took you away from the dangers of that life, why was Namjoon letting you handle your business when the only thing you should be focusing on is rest. He grumbles to himself. At least it would make you happier in the morning.

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zsturiolosx · 1 month

Text

Cola

Pairing: Dom!chris x Reader.

Summary: Where a song in your playlist heats up things between you and your best friend, Chris Sturniolo.

Warning: Make out, cursing, pet name, smutt, overstimulation, fingering.

“My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola

My eyes are wide like cherry pies

I got sweet taste for men who are older

It's always been so, it's no surprise — Lana Del Rey.”

Me and Chris were just hanging out in my room the whole day, listening to music in the loudest volume and scrolling through our social medias.

I was so focused on my phone I didn’t realize Chris’s stare, looking at me with wide eyes. I turn off my phone, and then realized what was happening.

“Cola” by Lana Del Rey was playing in the background, and Chris was red, while holding his can of pepsi tightly, his fingers were becoming white from the strength.

“Oh, shit!” I say, stopping the music. I feel my cheeks burning and turning red. When he sees embarrassment covering over me like a blanket, he smirks, finding it funny.

Chris gets up from the comfy chair in the corner of my room and walks slowly up to me, his figure getting bigger with every step.

Then he suddenly stays over me, but still standing next to the bed. Chris tries to reach for the phone, while i’m trying to take away from his.

“No, Chris!” I start giggling when he tickles me. “Fuck off!”

“I wanna hear the song again!” He says, smiling, and finally reaching the phone. He opens Spotify and plays the song again. The sweet voice of Lana singing that her pussy tastes like his favorite drink.

After hearing that part, Chris sits down next to me in the bed and stares into my soul. His mouth in a “O” shape because of shock, eyes popping out of his head.

“That’s crazy.” He says in a low and raspy tone, bringing shivers throughout my body.

“I know, I mean, you would love that” I tease him, his eyes stuck to mine, slowly moving down to my lips.

My smile starts to fade away, face turning red with the intensity he was staring my pink lips.

My mind went places as I observe his lips, his soft and beautiful lips. I don’t know what was happening, he’s my best friend! I’ve been his friend for like, eight years.

But all of that vanished from my mind the moment chris sturniolo bowed and looked a me for the last time before putting our lips together.

And as i imagined, his lips were soft and delicate, but i didn’t take long until things heated up. His tongue met mine in a rush and anxious way, his hands exploring my body.

Chris broke the kiss, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys on my neck. But when he gets on the hem of my large shirt, he looks at me with deep blue eyes, asking for permission.

I nod, feeling the heat between my legs grow as i squeeze my thighs together.

Chris backs up, taking slowly my shirt. His eyes get illuminated as he realizes I wasn’t wearing any bra underneath.

“Oh, fuck… you are fucking perfect” he groans, and before I could answer, I feel his lips and tongue touch my nipple, making me gasp and arche my back.

Chris lays down on top of me, and I accidentally feel his hard cock on my thigh, making a soft moan leave my mouth.

Even though he is already hard, he’s taking his time with me, making me impatient.

“Chris!” I say,sounding like a spoiled child.

“So needy for me, ma.” Chris chuckles, and finally takes my shorts out. He smiles for me when sees the light pink panties with a little bow on it. “So cute.”

Chris puts my legs up, opening me in front of him. The heat between my legs was increasing, and Chris looked satisfied with the view.

“Already wet, huh?” He smiles cockily. Chris kisses my inner thigh, making me shiver.

I wine when i feel Chris’s hands taking my panties real slow. My hand was holding the mattress below us as his tongue meets my pussy. I moan, feeling his tongue exploring every inch of my folds.

“Oh- fuck!” i yell, the knot in my stomach building up so fast it was ridiculous.

Chris stops for a minute, smiling at me, and i already miss him. But that feeling disappear when he puts both of his fingers inside of me, all of the sudden and with no warning.

“Chris…!” A loud moan leaves my mouth, making him groan. His mouth comes back to my clit, my orgasm building up more and more.

“mhm, chris, i’m gonna… mhm fuck” My eyes rolling back to my head while chris is finger fucking me.

His long fingers were hitting the right spot, the tip kissing my cervix. His tongue licking just the perfect spot, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t cum now, ma.” He says, his low and raspy voice trembling my whole body. My legs were shaking and the knot in my stomach was getting bigger and bigger.

“I can’t, christopher.” i moan, my eyes closed and my mouth hanging open. The loud noises leaving my mouth was filling the room.

“All right, my needy princess. You can cum now“ Chris whispers, while still pushing his finger in and out of me. And just like that, I come all over his amazing and agile fingers.

He leans up, still into me, but now his mouth was touching mine. It was a a messy kiss, but it was still wonderful.

My body was weak, my legs trying to close, but Chris puts his hand on my thigh and leave me wide open for him, still fingering me.

“Stay like this, ma.” He says, interrupting the kiss and staring down into my soul.

“Chris, i’m gonna cum-“ My voice was trembling, weak and with not even energy to moan.

“Look at me or I won’t let you” I open my eyes, forcing myself to leave them opened.

Chris smiles and leaves a kiss on my red and sweaty cheek. “You look wonderful, baby, just perfect”

Even if I look like a big mess, he is still complimenting me. After a few seconds, i hit my second orgasm, and only with his fingers.

Chris takes his fingers off of me, cleaning them in the sheets. Then, he lays down on me and puts my head on top of his chest, caressing my hair and making me chilled.

“Just so ya know, you taste better than Pepsi.”

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #smut #lana del rey #pepsicola #my pussy tastes like pepsi cola

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till-you-scream-and-cry · 1 year

Text

Second Lesson of Good Manners

Pairing: Ethan x Fem!Reader

summary: the memories of the last time Ethan tried to give you a lesson still haven't faded, yet here you are, asking for another one

word count: 2.6k

contents: SMUT

author’s note: THERE IT IS, A SEQUEL TO A LESSON OF GOOD MANNERS , *THERE ALSO IS A THIRD LESSON NOW!

Måsterlist | tåglist | my chapter story

About a month has passed since that memorable party at which Ethan has shown you his real, dark side. You still haven’t told Vic about what happened. It felt wrong, you thought that maybe it was not a good idea, that maybe it should remain your little secret. At least for a little longer. Soon after her birthday, they went away for a series of concerts around Italy, but last night you’ve got a text from Vic with an invitation for a little “welcome back home” dinner party. You replied right away, but as soon as you hit ‘send’ second thoughts attacked you. Going there meant facing Ethan, and to be fair you had no idea how you were supposed to treat him.

Time passes fast when you’re stressed, the day of the dinner party arrived faster than you expected. You got dressed in your favourite short skirt, a tight top which was showing off your boobs really nicely, and just to be on the safe side - a pair of new, lacy panties. As you were about to leave, you got a call.

“Sorry, I know you’re probably on your way but…” Thomas started in an apologetic tone.

“No, it’s fine, I’m still around. What is it?” You asked, trying to lock your door with one hand.

“Vic asked me to get wine and I have no fucking idea which ones would be good. Damiano is not picking up, and Ethan…I don’t even know if he’s coming. Can you go with me?” he sounded very stressed.

“Sure…” You answered slowly, still processing the fact that you might not meet Ethan. You should’ve been happy about it, yet you didn’t want to jump from happiness. “Will you pick me up?”

He arrived about 15 minutes later. His breaks made a loud squeak as he pulled up in front of your building. Vic warned you to be careful when Thomas is driving because he tends to be…a little chaotic. You just understood what she meant.

“Get in, we don’t have much time,” he said loudly through an open window.

The traffic was awful, you got stuck in the centre of Rome. Thomas didn’t seem to care too much. He turned up the music, his favourite playlist was playing. He started singing, loudly and badly, and dancing a little, as much as the seatbelt allowed him to. You couldn’t help but to smile and join him, he was a walking and talking serotonin. It was hard not to like him.

You finally got to the supermarket, Thomas grabbed the big trolley, and you started roaming through the aisles.

“Ahhh I can’t see that beer she wanted…” You mumbled, looking at the list Vic gave to Thomas. “It’s the only thing missing.

“Go and check there, I’ll get the paper towels.” Thomas kissed your forehead and rolled the full trolley.

You kept squinting at the giant wall filled with so many types of beer that you were slowly getting dizzy trying to find the right one. You let out a loud sigh and put your hands on your hips, ready to give up.

“Can I help you, miss?” A deep voice appeared out of nowhere right next to your ear. You turned your head fast. Ethan was standing next to you in his black shirt, hands in his pockets and a smug smile.

“Fuck, you scared me.” You said and cleared your throat. “I’m looking for Vic’s favourite beer.” You mumbled, trying to act as normal as possible.

“Well…” He walked closer to the shelf and grabbed a four-pack of beer which was so high on the shelf, that you would never be able to reach it. You took it from him.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile. Ethan raised his eyebrow.

“Look at that. Someone changed their attitude, hmm? So polite.” He said and slowly licked his lips. You swallowed hard,

“I’m just trying to be civil. We need to somehow survive that dinner, right?” You asked, trying to ignore his buttons slightly parting and revealing his chest.

“Well…” he moved closer and grabbed your arm, squeezing it surprisingly hard. “If you really want to survive, you better behave like a good girl. I warned you, next time you get on my nerves, I won’t be nice.” He growled quietly, directly into your ear. He let you go, his expression changed instantly as he noticed Thomas coming your way.

“Ah Edgar, great. You have the beer? Let’s go then.” He said cheerfully, pushing the trolley towards the register.

“After you.” Ethan smiled, letting you in front of him. His look and the change in his voice sent shivers down your spine. He was scary, but the even scarier part was that you loved it.

You arrived at their summer house with the boys when the rest of the guests were already there. it was loud, the music was playing, and people were talking and laughing. The food on the dining table looked and smelled amazing. Thomas placed the wine between candles, and flowers and run to Vic with the beer.

“Hey, cucciola!” She yelled at you and a second later you were trapped in her tight hug. “I missed you, baby, I’m so glad you came.” She kissed your both cheeks and your forehead.

“Good to see you too.” You smiled softly and wrapped your arms around her. The warmth of her body and the joy of the moment allied you to forget about Ethan for a moment.

The dinner was delicious, people were already slightly drunk, and the wine bottles seemed to be bottomless. The music got louder, conversations livelier and laughs more contagious. You sat next to Vic and her friends, only two people separated you from Ethan on your left.

“Why are you so quiet Edgar, you don’t like us anymore?” One of the louder girls asked. He smirked and took a sip of his wine.

“Oh, he’s in love!” Vic yelled. You froze and gleaned at her, not noticing how Ethan’s eyes immediately landed on you.

“Please…” he mumbled and pushed his hair back.

“Oh, come on, what about that…” She started snapping her fingers, trying to remember a name. "

“Vic, the fact that I fucked someone, doesn’t make us a couple. How old are you?” He asked with a slight annoyance in his voice.

“I’m just saying…” Vic mumbled into her glass and rolled her eyes.

“Someone is bitchy, didn’t you get enough sleep last night, Edgar?” Damiano chuckled and watched him with a grin.

“No, come on. I’m always in a good mood.” Ethan smiled softly; his face brightened up.

“Which means you’re back to being boring…” You said quietly. Unfortunately, you said it when the songs were changing and pretty much everyone could hear you.

“Am I boring?” He asked calmly. Everyone got back to their conversations, not paying much attention to you. The only one carefully watching was Vic. You cleared your throat.

“Well…yes. A little. So calm and composed. Where is fun in that.” You popped a grape into your mouth and started chewing it slowly, staring at him.

“Oh, so you need to be entertained all the time? Like a little baby?” He chuckled, keeping the conversation surprisingly light.

“Who doesn’t like some entertainment.” You smirked and took a sip of wine. He smiled and got back to his friend.

“Let’s play spin the bottle! Come on guys, truth or dare one? Please!” Thomas yelled, holding onto Damiano, both struggling to stand still.

“I know who won’t agree.” You mumbled and immediately felt Ethan’s look on you. He was too calm again, he started annoying you with that. You knew what he was capable of.

“No, come on, let’s go with karaoke. Right?” Vic screamed and won everyone’s votes. They all moved to the couches, trying to set up microphones.

You used the moment of chaos to have a smoke. You went outside, the pleasant, cool night air soothed your hot skin. You clicked the lighter and took a long drag. Suddenly the balcony door behind you closed and you heard steps.

“Felt like getting some fresh air?” You turned your head and saw Ethan, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Yeah, it got a little chaotic there.” You took another drag.

“I thought you don’t like when it’s boring.” He cocked his head to the side, watching you closely.

“Well…true, but it was getting a little intense.” You turned to him and blew the smoke out in his direction.

“Guess you were bored enough to start acting like a spoiled brat again.” He said calmly.

“Oh, come on, I was just teasing…”

“No, no, no, you were acting like a cunt, just to annoy me.” He stepped a little closer, grabbed your wrist and snatched the cigarette out of your hand. He threw it on the ground and stepped on it.

“Hey…” you said loudly.

“Shut up.” He hissed and took another step towards you. His face was only inches from yours. “I know what you’re doing. You think I’m stupid?”

You shook your head. He wasn’t joking. You really pissed him off this time.

“Let’s have a little walk, shall we?” He grabbed your arm and led you towards the garden. It was dark outside; the grass was damp, and you couldn’t see where you were going. Finally, you saw a tiny wooden shed under a big tree.

“Maybe we should go back?” you asked quietly. He turned to you with a smile.

“Do you really want to go back? Are you sure? Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know.” You whispered. He grabbed your chin hard and tiled your head up so that you could face him.

“Because I thought that you were acting like a fucking bitch because you wanted daddy to fuck you as hard as the last time. Why else would you tease me like that when I gave you a warning, hmm?” He spat out and squeezed your cheeks harder. “For the last time, do you want to go back?”

“No.”

“Good.” He smirked and let go of your face. “Because I enjoyed your sweet little cunt the last time…” He purred into your ear and grabbed your hair, pulling you towards the shed.

He opened the door and pushed you in. A small lightbulb was enough to see him and his face. His eyes were lustful and hungry. He shut the door and pushed you against the small shelf. He cupped your face with one hand and kissed you hungrily, biting your lips, and pushing his tongue inside. His hand slowly slid down to your throat. he squeezed hard, making you gasp.

“I won’t be nice…tell me if you want me to stop. But I know you can be a good girl and take what you deserved. Understood?”

“Yes…Yes, Daddy.” You mumbled. He smirked.

“So obedient…”

He grabbed you by your shoulders and pushed you to the ground. You knelt and looked up at him. Ethan unzipped his pants and started palming himself.

“You’re gonna suck Daddy off, and If you’re good enough, I might let you cum later.”

You opened your mouth wide, Ethan grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed his cock in. You choked a little as he didn't give you any time to adjust.

“Yes, you stuff that filthy mouth of yours. Fucking slut…Are you gonna talk back now? Huh?”

He grabbed your hair harder, with both hands, and started fucking your mouth. You begin moaning, feeling your saliva dripping down your chin. He groaned and sped up, fucking your throat deeper. Suddenly he stopped and let go of you, leaving you gasping for air and collapsing on the floor.

“You liked that baby? Hmm?” He grabbed your chin and wiped the saliva off it. He kept stroking his hard cock. You nodded.

“Good, because I’m not done with you.”

He pulled you up and pushed you against the small desk. He walked closer and grabbed your tits, pinching your nipples hard, and making you whine. He sat you on the desk, forcefully spread your legs and slid his hand under your skirt. His thick finger teased your pussy and hummed.

“Already so wet? You’re just aching to get that cock again, don’t you?”

“Yes, please…” You whined, wincing under his touch. He kept slowly stroking your folds, teasing your clit. “Please…Ethan please…” He took away his hand.

“How did you call me?”

“I’m sorry Daddy, please touch me again.” You mumbled, your thighs were shaking in anticipation, and you felt your juices dripping down your thighs.

Ethan stroked your cheek.

“If you could only see yourself right now…So desperate for a cock of a guy you hate. Such a pathetic little whore.” He grabbed your panties, snapped the lace, and put them in his pocket. “My obedient slut want’s daddy to touch her?” He grabbed your throat with one hand and started teasing your fold again with his fingertips.

“Yes…please, please, please…Daddy, I’m begging you.” You were too desperate to care, your pussy was aching, pulsating so hard that you would do anything to finally get some relief.

“I like when you beg…” He squeezed your throat harder, sliding his two, thick fingers deep into your soaked cunt. You gasped loudly and threw your head back. “And what do we say?”

“Thank you, Daddy…Thank you…” He hummed contently and started pumping his fingers, stretching your pussy around them.

You felt that you were getting closer, his fingers felt so good and were making you feel full. He suddenly pulled them out with a wet pop.

“No! Come on…” You whined. he slapped your face and grabbed it hard.

“And what did you do to deserve to cum? Huh?!” He growled and swiftly turned you around.

He pushed you onto the desk and lifted your skirt. Ethan kicked your legs apart wide; you heard him spitting in his hand and giving himself a few strokes.

“You’re gonna take daddy’s cock, nice and deep.”

He pressed his tip to your entrance and filled you in one slow push, His size took your breath away, and you tried to grab onto something and knocked off some old lamps and pots, smashing them into pieces. Ethan smacked your ass harder than ever.

“That was Damiano’s lamp collection, you might have to suck him off for that you whore…”

He grabbed your hips, digging his fingers deep into your soft flesh. He started bucking hard, fucking you into oblivion. Ethan sped up, pounding you relentlessly, deeper, and faster every time. You couldn’t contain your moans, they mixed with his grunts and growls.

“You’re ready to take Daddy’s cum inside you?” He asked between thrusts, you only moaned in response.

He grabbed you harder, slamming into you fast till he came with a loud growl. He skilled you up with his hot cum, his cock was twitching inside of you. You came right after him, spasming and screaming, clenching around his cock, milking him dry. He leaned down and nibbled on your shoulder, leaving a bite mark on it.

“A little souvenir for my favourite slut.” He whispered into your ear.

He slipped out of you and turned you around. Ethan sat you down on that desk, his cum was dripping out of you, and you felt its warmth on your legs. He roamed through the shed and found his training bag, he took out some wet wipes and a towel. He knelt down and cleaned you up. You watched him with a soft smile when he placed a soft kiss on your thigh.

“Don’t get used to that, princess.” he stood up with a smirk. “Anything hurts?”

“Only in a good way.” You mumbled, too fucked out to think straight.

“Good. Now make yourself look presentable. I’ll go inside first.” He turned around at the doorway. “Oh and…I like fucking you but keep this act up and next time you won’t be able to sit for a week. It’s my last warning.”

He left, but with how good he was making you feel, you knew that you should start getting ready for round three.

tåglist: @thewitchinthemountain @8iunie @oro-e-diamanti @tempobrucera @coven-daddy @bethanysnow @writingmaneskin @blackberryblossom @hiraetheral @theimpossiblehologramtree @ilwiwbysmv @weareoddlydrawn @jrj2 @bieberhoodforever @chesirecatt @que–sera–sera @iamtashaquinn @butkutee @ohdamiano @stardustingold @woahzz11 @cuzimitaliano @thegeminisgirl @bisexual-babygirl-mj @maneslut @eliseline @dpaccione @xweirdxsceletton @agentreid2 @roisinlove123 @vicdeangelis @ohladymoon @ykaaarus @androgynouscloudenemy

#måneskin #maneskin smut #maneskin writing #ethan torchio #daddy ethan #ethan torchio smut #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio x fem!reader #ethan torchio imagine #my writing #second lesson of good manners #maneskin fiction

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popjunkie42 · 11 months

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I’m A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction writer, mostly Feysand-focused and all my works are available on AO3. I also have some short poetry pieces and a few art commissions! All works complete unless otherwise noted.

✨Feysand✨

Hate Me Instead 🌶️ - Rhysand and Feyre both struggle with her first visit to the Night Court in this alternative version to early events in ACOMAF. What if Rhysand had stuck around for more for lessons and both of them were making rather poor decisions? From Rhys's POV.

Eureka - A one-off where Rhysand finds something exciting in one of his dusty old books, and goes on a late-night research tear, much to Feyre's amusement. Nerdy Rhys wears glasses. Read on AO3

Present - Written for Feysand Week 2023. Feyre and Rhys have fallen into a comfortable pattern of training, bantering, and living life on the precipice of war and uncertainty. Rhys tries to enjoy their newfound domesticity while moving between the past, present and future. Read on AO3

One for My Baby, One for the Road - Five nights Feyre lost to the faerie wine Under the Mountain.

Enchanted, Enthralled 🌶️ - Vampire!Feyre is unleashed upon an unsuspecting Rhysand

Blossoming in Winter - (ongoing) A first Hybern war AU inspired by the story of Faramir and Eowyn in Lord of the Rings. Written for the ACOTAR 2023 Gift Exchange for @witchlingsandwyverns. Check out the Playlist.

🩶Nesta and Feyre🖤

sirens in the beat of your heart - Nesta discovers Feyre on the roof and enlists all her training to try and build bridges between the sisters. For Nesta Archeron Week 2024.

Books and Wings - A very fluffy one-off where Feyre goes to the library in the House of Wind to ask Nesta for a book recommendation. Post ACOSF, the sisters work to build their healing relationship.

✒️Poetry📜

Under The Mountain

Thorns

Huntress I

Calanmai

Knight Errant

🎨Art Commissions🖌️

Glasses Rhys by @b-astora (pairs well with Eureka!)

Feysand Dirty Dancing by @lilitherie

🎵Playlists🎶

Feysand of the 70’s for Feysand Week 2023

Blossoming in Winter playlist for ACOTAR Gift Exchange 2023

Thanks for reading and sharing your comments! ❤️

#acotar #feysand #acotarfanfic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand #feyre #poetry #acomaf #fanfic #feysandfic #smut #nesta archeron #feyre Archeron #archeron sisters #a court of thorns and roses

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lonely-pcp · 1 month

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Alternatives to telepathic communication

hey y’all! I just wanted to compile my own little list of communication methods that aren’t telepathic, as I struggle a bit with that sorta stuff and it’s kinda annoying seeing posts that don’t really go in depth about how many different ways there are to communicate with spirits and egregores. So I decided to make this post for the people who struggle with that as well!

Tarot

tarot is one of my favorite methods of divination, so I wanted to start off this list with it, of course. It definitely deserves a post of its own on using it for communication, so I’m not gonna go too in depth. Plus, some people have strict parents, but there’s plenty of alternatives. But tarot is definitely one of those things that you should research on your own, because there’s way too much to be said, and I’m listing methods, not doing a crash course on tarot. But a good way to use it for communication is to interpret the images intuitively, and if you get stuck, only then try looking up the meaning of the card. Chances are you might get a feeling that doesn’t exactly relate to the card meaning, but trust your intuition! The best way of knowing what the spirit is saying is by trusting the first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t doubt yourself!

but anyway, if tarot interests you, feel free to research it!

Playing card divination

this form of divination is basically tarot’s slightly easier cousin. It works amazingly for yes/no questions as well! Plus it’s a good start for people who practice in secret. I personally used this method of communication when I first started working with J, and it’s helped me a bit with my intuition as well, as I was able to guess what he was up to without being overwhelmed by too many meanings.

Here’s a chart showing the meanings of each playing card, excluding jokers. I personally use one joker as the fool, and the second joker as the world. It’s up to you if you even want to use them though.

There’s also an exercise for telepathy that can be mixed with cartomancy if you so choose! It involves drawing a card without looking and trying to intuitively guess if said card is red or black. If you do this with a spirit you can interpret the card after turning it over as well!

Shufflemancy

This form of divination is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING for beginners and closeted witches, as all you really need is a device that can play music, and most people have phones anyway! A lot of people recommend making a dedicated playlist for this form of divination, but I recommend using your entire music library if possible, because it can take a while to build a perfect shufflemancy playlist from scratch.

I’ve heard of 3 main ways to do shufflemancy, at least with a music streaming service like Spotify or Apple Music:

1: shuffling and skipping - this is the most common form of shufflemancy. It involves putting a playlist on shuffle and skipping a desired number of songs to get an answer to your question.

2: indicator songs - this involves assigning the spirit a song to represent them, and listening to music on shuffle. If the indicator song comes on, the song after will be their message. I use this method quite often since I usually listen to my liked songs on Spotify using shuffle anyway. You can even ask the spirit what they want their indicator song to be using the shuffling and skipping method!

3: asking the spirit - this method involves simply asking the spirit to play a song and pressing play on whatever playlist you’re using and seeing what comes up. If you feel the song relates to the spirit, then you’ve probably contacted them.

The only downside to shufflemancy is that you do have to have a wide range of music to get a decent reading, as it has better results the more variety you have. And another downside is that if you listen to a lot of instrumental music (like EDM, piano covers, etc) then you won’t have lyrics to go by, which kinda makes things a little harder. But it’s still a great method for beginners who want to practice their intuition!

Some general advice

TAKE NOTES! This is something that is definitely needed for this type of work, especially if you forget stuff easily. Take notes on what you ask, what card or song you get, the context and meanings. It will help you in the long run!

adding onto the first point, don’t be afraid to look up meanings! This mainly applies to tarot, as there are pre-established meanings for each card. Take notes on what you find!

Your intuition will always be above the traditional meanings. If you get a feeling that doesn’t align with the traditional meaning of what you’re looking at, it most likely means that you need to know whatever your intuition is trying to tell you. If you don’t get that feeling, that’s completely fine too.

that’s all for now, because I need to get this post out of my drafts. Let me know if you’d like a part 2, as there’s a bunch of other methods that I could list!

#pop culture paganism #pop culture pagan #pop culture spirit work #spirit work #spirit communication #spirit companionship #spirit companion #general posts

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farmerlarrry · 8 months

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Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter seven | chapter six | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: Hello! I am so sorry for not posting a chapter in so long. I had some personal stuff going on that warranted my full attention, and it took a lot longer to resolve itself than I anticipated. I promise updates will become more regular (and not be months apart…). Thank you to those who stuck around, again I am so sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the chapters to come! | This chapter was kind of, sort of messy. I was going to split it into two separate chapters, but decided to post it all as one. I hope you guys don't mind! Also, any small mistakes will be fixed once I get a chance to reread.

word count: 7789

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Eight

“Hi, I’m Maria,” The familiar-faced woman approaches you with a wide smile. One of her hands is extended outward to you. You stare at her for a moment with wide eyes. Before she told you her name, you immediately recognized her from the photos Tommy showed you. She looks just like she did when it was taken, as if she hasn’t aged a day. You return her reach and firmly shake her hand. Her eyes are hard, yet contradictingly inviting.

Nessa guides you over to one of the chairs in the middle of the room. Tommy is sitting in the one next to it, a small wooden table separates the two chairs and has a small vase of dried flowers in the center. As you take a seat he gives you a warm smile, his spirits seem to be up since this morning. You notice a pair of crutches leaning up against the arm of his chair, causing you to shift your gaze down towards his leg. It’s been cleaned and is now wrapped up much better than before, a sense of relief comes over you.

There’s a small group of people, mainly guards, in the room alongside you, Tommy, Nessa and Maria. The four of you are the only ones in the center of the room. The rest are standing off to the sides, leaning up against the walls, not daring to speak or move. A pit of uneasiness sits in your stomach as you begin to feel everyone’s eyes on you. You try to ignore it, but the feeling begins to become overwhelming.

“Tommy told us a little bit about you and your journey, how you went from Houston to Colorado, you’re a fighter,” Maria suddenly speaks in a confident tone. She is now leaning up against the edge of her desk, her hands clasped in front of her.

“I had help along the way, bu-but I suppose you could say that,” Your voice is small, barely even hearing yourself. You feel intimidated.

“You come from the same group as Charles, right? From the apartment building? And before that you were at a QZ?” Maria cocks her head and narrows her eyes curiously. The others in the room exchange complex looks amongst each other at the discovery of this connection. You give her a single nod and see her glance at Tommy for a split second before returning to you. She smiles. “This must be a bit overwhelming for you.”

You go to say something, but nothing comes out. Your mouth is unbearably dry.

Everyone's heads turn at the sound of Nessa clearing her throat. She’s standing behind Tommy, holding the back of the chair with a firm grip.

“Maybe you can just ask her later? I’m sure she's tired and overwhelmed, like you said,” Nessa chimes in, tightening her grip even more. She’s looking at you with a concerned expression. Classic Nessa, always coming to my rescue… you think, slightly embarrassed at your lack of being able to speak for yourself. It’s like nothing has changed. Maria nods her head at Nessa’s request, pushing herself off of the desk and standing upright.

“Well then, things are simple here. The key to the success of the community is working together,” Maria shifts her attention back on you. “Some tend to the animals, others tend to the garden. There’s a school for the children that is run by some of the parents. There’s much more, but that’s just to name a few. We’ll let you get settled in before talking about your placement. From what Tommy has told me so far, I think you’ll be a great addition to Jackson. Do you have any questions we can answer?”

“Uh… ” You couldn’t think at the moment, you still felt the eyes of everyone looking at you, and you can see Tommy and Nessa both staring at you in your peripheral vision. “Not that I- not that I can think of.” You finally force out.

“If you think of anything, we’d be more than happy to answer,” She takes a few steps toward you. “As for a home, it’s going to take a few days-”

“Maria, if you don’t mind…” Nessa blurts out and Maria directs her attention to her, trying to cover her annoyance with a broad smile. You see Tommy’s eyes go wide and his posture stiffen, he doesn’t move and keeps his eyes locked on the ground. “I was thinking she could take one of the vacant houses in the same area as mine and Tommy’s… maybe the blue one adjacent to Joel’s.”

“Oh, oh… You and Tommy?” You let out breathily, not thinking before talking. You shift your body to the edge of your seat as Tommy and Nessa let out a soft giggle in unison, looking at each other joyously before turning their attention to you. You stare at the two with your brows drawn together, glancing between them. Nessa is Tommy’s girlfriend?

“Like I said, lots to catch up on,” Nessa lets out in a childlike, giddy tone.

When you look back at Maria, she has her lips pursed and is slightly nodding her head as if she is contemplating Nessa’s suggestion, or rather request.

“Usually those houses are reserved for… Well, I don’t see why she couldn’t. You wouldn’t mind showing her the way,” She says to Nessa, not waiting for a response, before turning back to you. “You should get some rest and get settled in, Tommy and I will come to talk to you about a placement once we’ve had time to discuss. Sound good?”

You give her a simple nod.

“Thank you, Maria,” You say as you rise to your feet, she returns your gratitude with a smile before going back around her desk and taking a seat. Everyone else has already begun leaving. Nessa appears at your side with a smile on her face, looping her arm through yours.

“That’s mine and Tommy’s place,” Nessa is pointing at a large, white two-story home before pointing a few houses down at a faded blue two-story home that is just as big. “And that one is yours.”

“Isn’t it… a little big for just me?” You turn to her, slowing your pace. She ignores you, letting her arm fall to her side and taking the lead toward your new home.

As you get closer, you come to realize little details of your new home. The faded blue paint has been chipped off in many areas leaving white patches, the porch railing has completely collapsed on one side, I could fix that, you think. Regardless of it’s apparent flaws, it’s yours .

Nessa is already through the front door, while you’re still at the bottom of the pathway marveling over it. The blue one, adjacent to Joel’s, you look over your shoulder to the house at the end of the street. You have to strain your eyes but you can see a light is on inside through the sheer curtains covering the window. Your heart skips a beat and you find yourself unable to look away.

“Come on in,” Her faint voice pulls you out of your daze. You jog the rest of the way up the pathway, up the steps, and through the door, trying to force any thought involving Joel out of your mind.

Upon entering, you quickly notice the thick layer of dust that covers everything. The interior looks like no one has set foot in it for a very long time. A dust-clad blanket lays messily over the back of the couch, and your heart sinks. It looks like someone had just thrown it over temporarily, thinking they’d be back shortly. A coaster set is scattered on the surface of the coffee table with books stacked neatly just to the side of them. Your eyes move up to the walls, the wallpaper has started to peel, the corners up by the ceiling curling in on themselves, covered in spiderwebs. You walk past Nessa over to the couch and run your fingers along the blanket; dust sticks to your fingers to which you wipe off on your jeans before taking off your backpack and setting it on the ground.

“It’ll take some work to clean it up, but it has potential,” Nessa says unconvincingly, gawking at the dust as she comes out of the kitchen. You silently agree with her, running your eyes all over the different parts of the house again. “Anyway, why don’t you go shower? It’s upstairs, should be the first room to your left. I’ll go grab you a change of clothes, okay?”

As Nessa leaves through the front door, you slowly make your way up the staircase, looking at the pictures that are still hanging up on the wall; they’re of the family who once lived here. Running your fingers along the glass, you wipe away the dust with the pad of your index finger, revealing two children who looked to be between the ages of five and ten; they were sitting under a tree both bearing large smiles. The same feeling you got when you saw the youth-sized sleeping bag back at the factory with Joel reemerges within you, burning a hole in your stomach. You suck some air in and take down each picture one by one.

Holding them tightly against your chest, you enter the room on the left as Nessa had said. It looks to be the master bedroom. You gently place the pictures face down on one of the side tables by the bed, taking a seat and covering your face with your hands, running them through your hair over the back of your neck. You let out a heavy sigh.

The tile floor is cool and somewhat soothing on your aching feet. Peeling your socks off, you look down, noticing all the blisters and sores covering the bottom and sides of your feet, on top of your toes, and the back of your heels. You walk over to the small shower, pull back the cracked, plastic curtain, and turn the knob. The water sputters a bit when it first comes on before shooting out with a steady flow. You watch the bottom of the tub as the dust turns to dense clumps of dark gray, following it as it circles down the drain. Turning around, you walk over to the countertop and begin removing everything from your pockets; the folded piece of paper from your back pocket, the stone from your front pocket, and the bottle cap from the other. Steam starts to fill the bathroom. Your fingers linger on the paper, chewing on the inner flesh of your bottom lip as you begin to unfold it. You trace your fingers along the oranges neatly drawn at the top before shifting your focus to where it had been torn. When you look up, the mirror is fully fogged over. You fold the piece of paper back up and hesitate before setting it down with the rest of the items, shrugging off your shirt and slipping off your pants and undergarments, and kicking them off to the side.

The water stings your skin when you first enter the shower. As you fully emerge your body, you feel every muscle fully relax under the heat, and the steam rolls off your skin. You close your eyes, trying to push all your thoughts from your mind. At this moment, you want to fully relax, pretend life isn’t the way it is, pretend Joel and whatever your feelings toward him don’t exist, the things you’ve had to do to survive never happened. You just want to simply be.

You dread getting out of the warm embrace of the shower. Wrapping the towel around your body and securing it at the top, you walk back over to the mirror, wiping away the condensation that clung to the surface. You see a semi-blurred version of yourself staring back at you. Your face doesn’t look quite as you remember it, you look older, your face is a lot slimmer, and the dark circles under your eyes tell everyone who sees them that you haven’t properly slept in ages. You have a hard time prying your eyes away from yourself, but the sound of something clattering downstairs tells you it’s time to go.

You put your socks back on before going downstairs to prevent dust from sticking to your damp feet. In one hand you have your old clothes, and the other is holding the top of your towel so it doesn’t fall off. Your hair is still wet, leaving a trail of water droplets. Nessa is on her hands and knees cleaning the floor with a rag. Much of the surfaces have already been wiped off.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” she says with a low grunt as she gets up from the ground.

“You’re apologizing for cleaning?” you chuckle, raising your eyebrows.

“We’ll get the rest later,” she responds, turning to the table with a pile of clothes on the surface. She grabs them, extending them toward you. “Here you go. I can take your old clothes… do you want to, um, keep them, or?”

“Oh, well,” you pause to think. The shirt and long sleeve pullover had tears all over them, the jeans were potentially salvageable if someone could get all the stains out, but you doubt that would be possible. “I suppose you can just get rid of them… Nessa, can we just stay in today, and go get the supplies and stuff tomorrow? I’m tired and I-”

“Of course, we can,” Nessa exclaims, nodding her head with wide eyes. She grabs you by your shoulders and pull you in for a hug. “Go get changed, I’ll continue cleaning. Don’t worry about doing anything today, just rest up, I got this.”

You turn to head back upstairs to get dressed. Before making it to the top, you stop for a moment, turning back to look at Nessa who has her back facing you. This peace and contentment, it’s new. You smile to yourself, your heart now feeling full.

Nessa practically forces you to relax while she makes dinner, so you take a seat at the now clean dinner table, watching her as she cooks and continue talking to her. She finally tells you about how Tommy and she came to be a couple. They knew of each other long before they officially met. She always found him to be cute, she’d gossip with Heather and Aimee about him, eventually confessing her feelings for him. She and her friends had been at the bar one night, they were celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday. When she went up to get a round of shots for the table, Tommy came up beside her, very obviously flirting with her. After that they became inseparable. They spent their evenings together, he’d take her out to the field just past the greenhouses late at night. Eventually, he asked her to move in with him. Your heart swells with joy as she tells you the story, she has a smile plastered on her face as she speaks, her cheeks flushed a bright pink. You’re happy Nessa, for the most part, had been able to find happiness after everything happened. You’re happy that in all of this, she’s okay.

She sets down your bowl of chili before taking a seat next to you at the table. The smell overwhelms your senses, nostalgia washing over you, reminding you of your days spent together back at boarding school. Nessa would always make dinner for you and her since the school food was less than ideal, and borderline inedible.

“Nessa,” you say, wrapping your hands around the warm exterior of the bowl. “How’d you get here?”

Her face drops, pursing her lips as she stirs her chili slowly with the spoon.

“Do you want the short version or the long version,” She let out a chuckle, her tone sounding sad.

“Whatever version you’re comfortable with,” You set down your spoon, resting your chin in your hand and offering her your full attention

Nessa’s dad was some big-shot CEO of one of the world’s biggest leading companies, meaning her family was very rich as well as very powerful. He had all sorts of connections and resources due to his status. As word broke out that they were declaring the infection outbreak as a state of emergency, he sent one of his workers from his Houston office to get Nessa. I tried to look for you, I really did, dad said you could come too, but everything was just so chaotic, I couldn’t get back to the dorms and Leon said we needed to leave as soon as possible. The plan was to get Nessa back home to California, but that proved itself to be a lot more difficult than they thought, with the roads being blocked, traffic made it impossible to get anywhere safely, then FEDRA stopped letting people in and out of certain places, they shut down the airports and refused to let planes take off. They had to cut through Utah, but they were unable to get through and eventually FEDRA directed them to the QZ in Salt Lake City. It was really scary when they took Leon away, they separated us shortly after we arrived… I never saw him after that, Nessa said somberly. They just put me into a placement room and gave me no other options, I couldn’t get in touch with my parents, they wouldn’t even let me try. I was so afraid and I was all alone with no answers. She eventually became close with James and his younger sister Megan. Their family took Nessa in and made sure she was safe. James’ dad worked in the radio tower in Salt Lake, he came into contact with an older gentleman, they talked most days, and over time they became friends, he claimed he had a community in Jackson that would offer more security than the QZ’s. All we’d have to do is find a way there, he’d let us all in, no questions asked. James’ mom didn’t want to leave, she was afraid of what was outside of the walls, and felt like the risk wasn’t worth it. After, I don’t know, 3 or 4 years… when things in the QZ’s got really bad, they finally decided to leave and head out to Jackson, they extended the offer to me, I truly had no one else so I joined them. Maybe we underestimated how bad things were, not truly knowing how dangerous things had become but- she let out a heavy sigh, screwing her eyes shut, a tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. When we got here it was just James, his dad, and of course me. We were the only ones who made it, and James’ dad, unfortunately, became ill not too long after arriving, he didn’t make it… Since then though, things have been pretty great, you know, it's a good thing we have going on here. I met Tommy who I love, I have friends, and now you’re here, so everything is… good.

Nessa’s eyes were red from tearing up, seeing her like this makes your eyes well up with tears as well.

“I’m really sorry,” Your voice quivers as you speak. Nessa shakes her head. “I should’ve looked for you too, I knew where you were, but I just– I ran Nessa. I didn’t know, I- I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“How’d you make it out?” She spoke quietly.

“I ran into Mr. Erickson in one of the hallways in the main building, he took me to his house and we stayed there for a few days before FEDRA took us to the QZ in Houston,” You responded plainly. Nessa perks up when you say Mr. Erickson’s name.

“Mr. Erickson, the science department’s hot teacher aide, huh?” She smirks through her tears. “What a man to be with when the world ends.”

Both of you laugh in unison.

She asks you about the QZs you were at. You don’t hold back telling her how things truly were, you told her about how you’d go outside of the walls to scavenge for the soldiers. That was how you survived since you didn’t have anything else useful to offer. That conversation eventually led to how you knew Charles, you went into detail about the apartment building, the people who resided there and how you were forced out by a rival group one unfortunate evening.

“Ness, I did some really fucked up things,” You finally look up at her, she’s concentrated fully on you. She’s giving you a blank stare in response. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She gets up from her chair and wraps her arms around you, burying her face into the crook of your neck. You begin to weep into her shoulder.

“That’s understandable,” she says, muffled. “But if you ever do need to talk about it, talk about anything, I’m always here for you, forever and always. No judgment.”

The rest of the night, the two of you start to go through the home, setting things aside to go to the donation center and other things in a separate pile that you’d like to keep. You continue talking about life, Nessa tells you about the people of the community, she tells you about her friends who she is very excited for you to meet, and she talks more about Tommy, saying she never thought she’d be able to love someone as much as she loves him.

Before you know it, the sun sets for the day, the living room area is now dimly lit by a small lamp on the table next to the couch. Nessa is fast asleep, curled up in a ball and snuggly tucked into the corner of the couch. You grab one of the clean blankets she brought over from her and Tommy’s home, shaking it out before draping it over her. For a while, you too try to sleep. The silence that fills the room stings your ears, it’s a little too quiet and you aren’t used to that. The creatures of the night have become your lullaby and without that, you can’t fall asleep.

You get up and walk over to the window that looks out the front of your house; grabbing the bottom of the window pane, you push it up, cracking it just a tiny bit. The song of the crickets quietly fills the room, you feel your body ease up. Before you turn to go back to the couch, you notice a figure approaching from the sidewalk path that leads to the main town area, you continue to stand at the window watching them while running your fingers along the paint cracks around the windowsill. When they come out from the shadows of the trees, you recognize who it is. Joel. Everything goes silent again. The moon is casting a soft light across his face; he’s walking slowly and his shoulders are rounded. You continue to watch him as he walks up his porch, disappearing once he closes his front door. What is it about him that makes you so… so stuck? You question yourself, shifting your gaze down to the windowsill which you are still picking at with your fingernail. You let out a heavy sigh, before returning to your spot at the base of the couch, throwing your head back so it rests on the firm cushion.

The next morning comes quickly. You wake up groggier than normal, a feeling of full exhaustion overcoming you once you get up from the floor. You force yourself to get up and join Nessa in the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table flipping through an old magazine. You join her in silence. This is nice, you think.

Eventually the topic of breakfast comes up as sunlight begins to illuminate the house. You insist on making something for the two of you, since Nessa made dinner last night. It’s only fair, Nessa, you plead. However, she insists on grabbing the community breakfast to go. Nessa, per usual, gets her way. As you wait for her return, you begin to go through the various drawers and cabinets in the kitchen and living room. It looks like Nessa already got a head start this morning before you even woke up.

The two piles from last night have only grown bigger.. As you continue organizing, a third pile is also created, the ‘don’t know’ pile. This one mainly consists of the personal items that belonged to the previous owners; pictures, old birthday cards, letters, etc. What do I even do with this, you think to yourself as you pull a family photo album from one of the bookshelves.

The front door knob squeaks as someone– Nessa, turns it and enters through the front door with three large paper bags in her arms.

“Breakfast has arrived,” Her tone is light and playful.

Tommy enters behind her, he’s cradling a stainless steel thermos under his arm that is free of a crutch.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining,” He says.

“Of course not,” Your sentence comes out in one single breath.

“Just didn’t know if you were sick of me or somethin’,” His back is now towards you as he sets his stuff down on the kitchen counter. Tommy looks over his shoulder at you with a smirk plastered on his face. You walk over to him and playful nudge his shoulder, returning a smile before grabbing three of the mugs that Nessa washed earlier.

You and Nessa clear off the table in the kitchen, setting the boxes and various items off to the side against the wall. The three of you take a seat and immediately start unloading your paper bags. You pull out three separate containers, the heat radiating through the sides and warming the cold tips of your fingers.

“Mmmm, ” Tommy lets out, rubbing the palms of his hands together. “My favorite.”

You peer over to him. One container has scrambled eggs with pepper scattered across the top, the smaller container has two small patties, presumably sausage patties, and the third container has mixed fruit. Before starting on his food, Tommy stands up and leans over the table, filling both yours and Nessa’s mug up with the coffee he brought.

“What are your plans for the day, ladies?” Tommy is leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, a few bites of food remain in the containers. You look towards Nessa, who puts her finger up in the air as she finishes chewing her food.

“Just clean and finish going through the house before heading into town to donate some stuff, then probably look around to see what items they have,” Nessa responds, glancing over to you once she finishes. You nod, not having anything to add. Right now, you’re just following whatever Nessa says or does.

“That sounds like a fun day” He replies sarcastically, the corners of his lips slighting turn upward.

“Super fun,” You say softly, quickly raising your eyebrows as you take a sip of your coffee.

There's a line when you and Nessa walk up to the donation center, about ten people or so are pressed up against the side of the building trying to find a way out from the direct sunlight. When you get to the back of the line, a man who appears to be just a little bit older than you and Nessa, says the line is moving slow today and that he and his niece had been waiting for nearly half an hour already. Nessa shakes her head, striking up a conversation with the man about how ridiculous the wait times have become. You tune them out, escaping to the depths of your own thoughts.

As you’re kicking at the rocky ground, thinking about God knows what, you hear the steady trot of a horse coming up from behind. Before you can fully turn around, Joel passes by on horseback. The two of you briefly make eye contact as he continues down towards the pathway. There’s nothing of substance in the look he gives, almost as if he looked right through you. Your stomach turns. Where’s he coming from? Your mind begins to wonder before you can stop it, taking a quick look over your shoulder. No, you are supposed to be moving on, another voice takes over and scolds your original thought. You take a final kick at the ground, sending rocks flying forward, before turning to Nessa.

“Where’s he coming from?” You whisper as you lean in closer to her. As much as you don’t want to care about Joel, you’re still curious and curiosity doesn’t hurt, right? She gives you a confused look and you gesture towards the horse who is now a considerable distance away. Nessa goes on her tippy toes, looking over the crowd of people to see who you are referring to.

“Oh, Joel, ” her voice sounds dry as she speaks his name, her face twists into a semi-disgusted expression. “He does patrol, like checking the outer perimeter for any potential threats to the community, stuff like that.”

“He goes out alone?” you push the matter further, taking a step backward, creating more distance between you and Nessa. The line moves forwards, and you and Nessa both take a step forward in unison.

“Yeah, well,” Nessa purses her lips, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face. “He’s not supposed to, but you know, he’s Joel, so… he and Tommy used to do it together, but Tommy got busy helping Maria out with stuff once the community started getting bigger, and no one else wants to accompany him.”

“Why-” You start to say, but Nessa cuts you off before you can complete your question. She’s giving you a tight-lipped smile and you cock your head off to the side, returning a confused expression. You know this look, she’s forcing a smile.

“Looks like we might be here for a while,” she says leaning up against the building’s exterior, turning away from you. When we get up there, let me do the talking, okay?”

She shoots you a wink and you purse your lips, giving her a simple nod in response.

It’s now been nearly a week since you’ve arrived, you’ve spent most of your days clearing out your home, trying to make it your own. Since your first night, you’ve only slept downstairs on the couch. The house is just too big, the creeks at night freak you out, often waking you up in the dead of the night. You’ve gone through the majority of the rooms, the children’s rooms were the hardest, you originally thought of just shutting the door, hoping to ignore them for the rest of your time living there, but eventually built up the courage to separate the clothing and toys to send off to be donated. You knew they’d be better put to use by the community than just sitting in a closed off room. There were some things that you couldn’t bear to get rid of, such as the family pictures, it felt wrong; you decided to pack them into a box and placed them in the back of one of the closets in the hall.

As you push the final box near your front door, you notice Nessa coming up the walkway to your porch. You wipe your hands on your pants, opening the door before she’s even made it up your porch. She has a bag in her hand, swinging it side to side as she walks.

“Hey stranger,” you say playfully, she greets you with a large smile as she walks through the door. Without saying anything she extends the bag towards you. When you open it up there's more clothing inside, they look nicer than just everyday clothes. “What are these for?”

“There’s a community get together tonight and you’re coming,” She sounds excited, and your face twists up at the thought of socializing. “Listen, I know that’s never been your thing, but I want you to meet my friends, I think it would do you some good meeting people.”

You toss the bag onto your couch, knowing there is no way she’s going to let you get out of going. She’s watching your face carefully, still smiling.

“Alright,” you say in a defeated tone. Nessa wraps her arms around you excitedly.

“Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done.” She pulls away, making a small circle, looking at the different visible parts of the room. She walks over to the boxes stacked by the door. “Sorry I haven’t been able to come over the past few days, they really needed an extra hand with the younger kids at the school.”

“You’ve done so much for me already,” you drag out. “I’m nearly finished, I just have to drop this stuff off at the donation building sometime.”

Nessa starts nosing her way through the boxes, lifting each flap and looking at whatever is inside. You watch her as she does so.

“If there’s anything you want, you’re more than welcome to take it.” You finally follow up with. Nessa lets out a hum before holding an article of clothing up.

“Isn’t this so sweet,” she swoons. It’s a blue and gray striped baby onesie. You try to hide your discomfort, thinking back on how difficult it was to go through the children’s bedrooms, especially the nursery.

“Yeah, I suppose,” You look down at your feet and nervously thumb at your cuticles. “Like I said, if you want it-”

“I’ll take them,” she quickly says in one continuous breath, picking up the box and balancing it on her hip. If anyone is having kids between the two of us, it will be Nessa, the bittersweet thought made you smile as she looks down at the tiny clothes with joy. “Alright, well, I’ll come and get you in a few hours then, okay?”

You watch her disappear with the box as she walks down the pathway toward her house.

The string lights that hang throughout the community illuminate the walkways. People fill the streets either going into one of two different buildings or hanging off to the sides with drinks in hand. It’s much warmer out tonight, something that signifies summer is just around the corner. As you walk, you’re in a daze, marveling at everything and everyone you pass. You begin to wonder what exactly tonight entails, Nessa didn’t go into much detail other than her friends are going to be there, but there was no doubt about how nervous you currently feel.

A group of men who appear to be around your age look at you as you walk past them, a few of them do a double take and begin to whisper amongst themselves. Your stomach drops, immediately dropping your gaze to look down at your feet. Maybe Joel will be there tonight, you hopelessly think, ultimately concluding that whatever is going on tonight, probably won’t be his kind of thing and even if he was there, he wouldn’t want to be around you.

You snap back to reality when you feel Nessa wrap her fingers around your wrist, pulling you towards a dimly lit building. Now standing on the porch, you can hear a muffled voice coming from inside. She gives you a warm smile before opening the door and pulling you in after her.

“So…” she starts, leaning in close to your ear to whisper. “This is where they play movies, it's mainly for the kids, but a lot of the parents and older people join in as well. It’s mainly old-timey, boring movies. Nothing we’d be interested in.”

Walking further into the dark space, you see the movie that is being illuminated on the large canvas sheet by a projector. There are several rows of chairs in front of the screen, from what you can tell it appears to be mainly kids sitting in them, the rest of the adults were either standing off to the sides or sitting at the tables in the back. You take a slow scan of the entire room, taking the atmosphere in. She grabs your arm again, pulling you off towards a side door, deep into the building, away from the crowd of people. You look over your shoulder once more.

“Although that is fun, the bar is where the real fun is at,” Nessa has her back against the door, facing you. She’s smiling as she turns the handle with one of her hands. “This is where my friends and I usually hang out, it’s mostly young adults and single middle-aged men… but it’s fun, I promise.”

Groups of people are sitting at tables with drinks playing card games, others playing pool at the table in the middle, and darts off to the side. It was a lot rowdier here, both the music and people’s conversations were loud. As you and Nessa weaved your way through the tables, you noticed people were turning their heads in your direction, some of them turning to whisper something to the person next to them. A heat washed over you, a knot growing in your stomach. The room suddenly felt as if it was on fire. The sound of Nessa’s voice pulls out from your anxious mindset.

“Speaking of my friends,” she spoke cheekily, slapping her hand lightly on the table the two of you just walked up to. “This is Aimee, Heather, Drew, and… James who you already briefly met.”

James instantly stands up from his chair, his eyes are wide as you two make eye contact. He’s holding his hand out to shake your hand. He seems a lot different than when you interacted with him earlier, now he appears to be more at ease.

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” He leans in so you can hear his voice over the noise.

“You too,” you shout back at him as you retract your hand.

James pulls out the chair next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You’re somewhat surprised by his friendliness.

The other three aren’t quite as welcoming, Aimee and Heather stare at you with sly smirks plastered across their faces, looking at you up and down as you awkwardly smile at them. Drew is snickering at the other two girls, trying to cover his mouth with his hand, however, his shaking body and beet-red face give it away instantly. Suddenly, he stiffly shoots up from his chair, reaching over the table with his hand extended towards you.

“Yep, it sure is nice to meet you,” He mocks James, who is watching him with his mouth agape in awe. James rolls his eyes, turning his body away from the group, propping his head up with his hand. You uncomfortably shift in your chair, and hesitantly bring your hand from underneath the table up to shake Drew’s hand.

“You too,” you say so quietly you doubt anyone heard, you barely said it loud enough for yourself to hear. You give him a loose, short-lived handshake, before bringing your hand back underneath the table and rubbing your sweaty palms against the rough fabric of your jeans.

“They’re messing around,” Nessa leans in and shouts in your ear. You raise your eyebrows as she pulls back and gives her a single nod. Fucking assholes, you think as you look around the room, scrunching your nose. In your sitting position, you can’t see much other than the people standing and the other tables around you.

Nessa and the others immediately get lost in a conversation, you let your eyes continue to wander around, looking at the metal signs and license plates that lined the walls, and the string lights that lit up the room. The sound of the scratchy music comforted you, although it was quite loud. At some point, James brings you over a drink, and you all clink your glasses together. You feel uncomfortable being here. It is not because you’re new or because you were never really much of a social person, Nessa’s friends, apart from James, attributed to this discomfort.

“I’m going to go grab a round for the table,” Nessa put her hand on your shoulder and pushed herself up. The two of you made eye contact, your eyes pleading ‘Please don’t leave me alone with these people.’ She must’ve not picked up on the urgency in your eyes, or maybe she didn’t think it was urgent, because she quickly turned away and disappeared in the crowd.

“So, you were out there with Joel?” Heather shouts over the table in a thick, fake southern accent, giving a devilish smile to Drew and Aimee. James’ face tightens at the sound of Joel’s name. Before responding, you look toward the direction Nessa went, hoping she’d magically appear and take over the conversation. Your mouth suddenly became dry.

“Yeah… and Tommy, but yeah,” You respond, sort of confused as to where this was going.

“ And, how was it?” She shot back, her face conveyed some sort of innocence, but her eyes told a completely different story.

“He’s super fucking weird huh?” Aimee adds, causing Drew to choke on his drink, he covers his mouth with the glass to hide his smile. You draw your brows together, slightly puzzled and looking between everyone at the table.

“ Aimee,” Heather shouts sharply and hardens her eyes. Aimee recoils at the sudden hostility in Heather’s voice, crossing her arms and slouching. Heather turns her attention back toward you, not saying anything, just cocking her head as if she was urging you to answer the question.

“I mean, not really,” You say slowly and scoffing.

“Oh , wait,” Heather gasps, the whole table is now looking at her, her gasp even piquing James’ curiosity. “You're not, like, his girlfriend are you?”

Aimee lightly hits her arm, laughing in the process and Drew grabs onto Aimee’s arm, his face going red again. You feel a heat of anger wash over you.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” You spit back. The sly remarks remind you of high school, something you were never too fond of, and with Joel being the subject of the talk, it made your blood boil.

“Heather-” James starts, tightening his grip on his glass, his knuckles turning white and blood pooling in his fingertips under the pressure.

“James… what? He’s a drunk and freaks everyone the fuck out, shouldn’t we warn our new friend about him,” James straightens his posture, his jaw tightening as he shifts his eyes in the opposite direction of her. You follow his gaze and realize Nessa is standing behind you, she has a smile plastered on her face and her cheeks are stained pink. She lets out a loud sigh.

“I just wish he’d stop coming back,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear, setting down the drinks in the center of the round table. You furrow your brows in confusion. She what? “I can’t believe Maria keeps allowing him back in, I mean, I know it’s Tommy who’s convincing her but damn, you’d think she’d put her foot down eventually.”

You abruptly shoot up from your chair, the chair bumping into the person behind you. The whole table as well as the other people around you are now staring, not saying a thing. Heather and Aimee are both trying to hide their giggles, putting their hands over their mouths and grabbing at each other. Your eyesight narrows and you give Nessa a disappointed look before turning away from the table and walking towards the bar.

“Looks like Joel-y found ‘imself a girlfriend,” you hear faintly as you take a few steps away from the table, a tall man is blocking you from going anywhere.

“Makes sense,” says another.

You swiftly turn around, wanting to tell them off, how could someone be so horrible, you think. One of the girls, you think it’s Heather, makes eye contact with you and points. Everyone except James, who has his head in the palms of his hands, looks at you. Nessa gives you a look of desperation.

“She just doesn’t get it guys, she’s been through a lot… and doesn’t know how Joel really is yet, like all she knows is him and Tommy, so…” she explains, you roll your eyes and begin pushing against the tall man’s back, trying to squeeze past him.

As you push through the crowd, your head is becoming heavier and heavier by the second and your vision is starting to blur around the edges. You can feel the thickness in your chest as you breathe. When you finally make it through, your eyes focus on one particular secluded seat, far away from everyone else.

You rush over to the seat, keeping your eyes locked on it. When you take a seat you immediately put your face in the palms of your hands. A mixture of embarrassment and anger surges through your body. You felt overwhelmed from the moment you stepped into the bar, and the situation with Nessa’s friends made it worse. Everything in the room seems to be louder than it is- the music, people talking, it’s all unnecessary noise. Your head begins to feel fuzzy, you can feel your body wobbling on the barstool and grab the edge to stabilize yourself.

You hear a muffled voice, but you're too trapped in your internal panic to make out what they’re saying, you can’t get yourself to even move your head in the direction it came from. Your chest rises deeply and then falls quickly. Focusing on the rugged grains of the wooden surface of the bar, your vision begins to become sporadic, with black splotches emerging and dancing around. You feel yourself wobble once again, this time your hand slips as you attempt to grab onto something.

You suddenly feel a hand loop around your waist from the person sitting next to you, pulling you towards them as your body begins to tilt off to the side. You go to say something but stop when you realize it's Joel. As you straighten your posture, he lets his hand drop, returning it to his glass. He looks concerned. You can feel a sense of relief wash over you, his eyes melting into yours; every nerve in your body instantly becomes calm.

“Are you okay?” He seems genuine when he speaks, his eyebrows slightly raising as he leans in closer to you.

read chapter nine here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

#farmerlarrry #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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moonchildreads · 1 year

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small town

Chapter 12 - Fortress Around Your Heart

IN THIS CHAPTER: A mysterious card, allergy pills, and Wayne conspires against his nephew [7.1k]

WARNINGS: eddie being a lil sick (nothing serious), vague mentions of financial hardship

A/N: a huge shout out and thank you to two of my fairy godmothers and biggest cheerleaders, my beloved @justahappycloud and my loveliest @gutterratt for vibechecking wayne's dialogue in this chapter. it takes a village to build a small town! i love you both, deeply, madly, truly.

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And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge

Tuesday, May 6th - 1986

Five days. Five days without a single drop of rain. Not a light shower, not a thunderstorm, not a drizzle in sight, and Dottie felt like she was losing her goddamned mind. Before moving to Hawkins, she was sure she dreaded rainy days; New York smelled like a sewer, the subway was muggy as hell, and she was perpetually tired of people bumping their umbrellas into her head when she walked home from school. But rainy days in Indiana? Absolute bliss. She’d gotten so used to the fresh smell of wet soil, to sitting on her window seat with a book, a moody record playing in the background, thunder rumbling and lulling her to sleep. Rainy days meant driving home with Eddie and Gareth, huddling under tin roofs with Jeff for warmth while Donny smoked a cig, sharing a hand-knitted blanket with her Dad while they consumed anything and everything that was on TV after dinner. Rain was comforting and homey, and as the weather continued to get warmer and humidity levels kept climbing, she couldn’t wait until that night’s forecasted thunderstorm to hit the small town she had grown to love in only a couple of months. Eddie, on the other hand, was once more contemplating on moving to the middle of the desert and never having to see a raindrop again in his life.

“Man, you look like shit,” Gareth said, sliding into his usual seat at their lunch table.

“I’ve been telling him to go to the nurse since second period but you know how he is,” Donny shook his head disapprovingly.

“I don’t need to go to the nurse,” Eddie told him, accepting the sandwich Donny was offering so Eddie would share his chocolate covered peanuts with him in return. “It’s just allergies.”

“I think I have allergy meds in my locker if you want some,” Dottie said.

“Why do you always have pills on you? Are you a fuckin’ pharmacist or what?” Gareth teased her.

“Okay, asshole, next time all those weird fumes in the lab give you a headache, get your own painkillers,” she said, pushing his lunch tray away from him and down the table, just barely out of his reach.

“D’you really think they’ll help? Your meds?” Eddie asked, finally caving in, eyes squinting under the fluorescent cafeteria lights.

“I mean, I’m not a doctor, but it’s worth a try. They make you really sleepy though, so maybe take them after school?”

“Okay,” he rubbed his eyes with two fists. “I’ll take them when we get home.”

During the past couple of years, Eddie had developed this random allergy that seemed to get progressively worse whenever the weather changed. As the air was becoming more and more oppressive with the kind of humidity one forgets could be experienced after the colder months, Eddie was more often than not showing up to school with red eyes that had nothing to do with the weed he liked to indulge in after hours. Eating his sandwich and peanuts without really tasting anything because of how clogged his sinuses were, he considered stealing a wad of toilet paper to survive his upcoming Biology lesson after depleting Dottie’s generous stash of tissues during their back-to-back shared periods before lunch. The skin on the sides of his nose was becoming raw and red from blowing it so many times, and his head felt like it was stuck inside a bucket, his ears sensitive to loud noises and his throat scratchy.

By the time the final bell had rung and they were driving towards his trailer, Dottie theorized he might have developed a cold last Saturday morning when his water heater had died on him mid shower. Thankfully, Wayne was nothing if not resourceful and had gotten it up and running again that same day, but if Eddie had really gotten sick from washing himself with freezing water, there was little anyone could do except wait for the illness to pass on its own.

“Boy, you look like shit,” Wayne said from his armchair, watching his nephew shrug off his coat as he stepped into the trailer.

“Thanks, Wayne, hadn’t noticed,” Eddie replied dryly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Dottie started guiding him towards his room.

“No! No, you can’t go in there,” he immediately blocked her path, arms braced on the walls of the small hallway to stop her from marching on.

“Ed, I don’t care if it’s mes-”

“It’s not- I mean, it is a mess but-” he blubbered, watching her cross her arms and cock her hip to the side in defiance. “Nuh-uh, nope, can’t have you seeing that shit right now. No way.”

“Eddie.”

“You can’t argue with a sick man, princess, that’s illegal.”

“God, you’re-,” she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “Fine, have it your way. Go sit on the couch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded, sinking into the cushions next to Wayne who was very amused by the entire situation but had the decency to act like he wasn’t paying attention. “Where do you keep your stash?”

“There’s a hidden pocket at the back, look for small round yellow pills.”

Dottie busied herself rinsing a mug in the kitchen sink and filling it up with water from a pitcher that was in the fridge while he snooped around her belongings, her brown corduroy backpack pulled into his lap. He was taking a couple of notebooks out to get better access to the small concealed zipper sewn onto the back panel when a baby pink envelope fell from one of them, landing next to his ratty sneakers. Always a curious one, Eddie picked it up, instantly noticed red hearts on the glossy paper inside and hurried to put it back where it had fallen from before she could catch him being nosy.

Trying to focus back on his initial task, he began rifling through the contents of the pocket, pulling out of a waterproof pouch that held various types of pills and tiny plastic bottles. He would have asked what they were for, always eager to know more about Dottie, but his brain was stuck in a constant loop of questions. Was that a love letter? Does she know who it’s from? There weren’t any names on it, is it a secret admirer situation? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Is it-

“Here you go,” she kneeled on the carpet next to his feet, pushing the plastic McDonald’s mug into his line of sight. “Did you find them?”

“Uh- yeah, these ones?” he asked, shaking a blister with pills that matched the description she’d given, making them rattle.

“What’s that?” Wayne asked, pretending like he hadn’t noticed his nephew having a mild stroke in front of his very eyes by the mere sight of an envelope.

“My allergy meds,” Dottie explained, resting an arm on Eddie’s knees. “I get really sniffly when seasons start changing so I thought maybe they’d help with Eddie’s too. I take those once a day when it starts acting up, and then I also have a nasal spray. I used to have two different ones, but I ran out of the prescribed one and haven’t replaced it yet.”

“You take a lot of pills, kid?” the older man said, curious.

“I try not to ‘cause I’ve heard it’s bad, like the bugs build resistance to the drugs or something? But I was a babysitter so I got used to carrying stuff around. Can’t really look after a screaming toddler if I’ve got a sudden headache, you know?” she explained before turning to look up at her friend. “You can keep those if you want, I’ve got a ton at home. They’re cheaper than a doctor’s appointment.”

“Thanks,” he said, staring at the blister. There were only three pills missing, and one of them was currently inside his body. “D’you wanna get started on homework?”

“We can take a day off if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, no, I’m okay. I can work on my drawings, I guess? Something that doesn’t require a lot of thinking would be great right now.”

“Okay, but you’re definitely gonna need a nap in about an hour,” she patted his knee and got up from the floor, moving to sit next to him before busying herself with her own work.

“I’m gonna go make some soup,” Wayne announced, shuffling into the kitchen before muttering to himself. “See if that saves us a visit to the doctor’s office.”

Wayne Munson was a simple man with simple needs. He considered himself lucky in the sense that he’d always had a roof over his head, and he’d always been able to provide for those he loved, fancy cooking be damned. He didn’t need three course meals or top of the line equipment to make his boy feel better as long as he knew how to make a good chicken rice soup, just like the one his mother used to make. They might not have lived in a real house with a big backyard and a bedroom for both, but as long as his meals were warm, his beers were cold and Eddie was smiling, it was enough for him.

He’d always thought of his nephew as a happy kid, one that chose to see the best in everything even when life had dealt him shitty card after shitty card, but Wayne had to admit that in the twelve years he’d been responsible for Eddie, he had never seen him act the way he did when Dottie was around. The youngest Munson was a ball of energy, always gesticulating wildly, not knowing how to control his own voice whenever he got going, leg perpetually bouncing when he was quiet. It was strange to see how subdued he was whenever his newest friend was around, and even more so considering she could also be loud and animated when given the opportunity. There was a gentle quality to their interactions, as if they were both toeing an invisible line that separated them, wishing the other one would cross it first but being afraid of overstepping.

As the old man leaned to get a couple of carrots that desperately needed to be eaten from the bottom of the fridge, he noticed once again the water pitcher on the door. He had never once seen Eddie choose water over any kind of cheap soda he could get his hands on, and yet this ancient plastic pitcher that hadn’t been used in years had somehow found its way into their fridge when Dottie started hanging out at the trailer. Wayne had only known the girl for a few short days, but felt that their shared time had already been enough to form a strong opinion. He liked Dottie. He liked how she was simultaneously polite but quick to make herself at home, how she was always helping around just because she wanted to and not because anyone asked her to, how everything she did came with a heap of kindness. He liked how she kept up with Eddie’s humor, how they calmed each other down, how she made him smile and want to try harder. And perhaps, above all, he liked how easily she dissipated Eddie’s fears of not being enough. Wayne loved the boys in the Hellfire Club, he really did, but he knew that his nephew compared himself to them, with their loving families, their houses in residential neighborhoods, their homemade lunches that did not consist of leftovers or whatever snack was left in the pantry.

The eldest Munson wasn’t one to pry, but he knew something was different with Dottie when she showed up on Monday with a handful of coupons from that day’s newspaper. “Ed said he likes mushrooms and my Dad can’t eat them without getting sick so I brought you these. I hate when coupons go to waste. Do you like mushroom soup, Mr. Wayne?” she had asked. It might have been an assessment made with personal bias, but Wayne was certain that no kid who didn’t go through any financial turmoil in their lives could be so into couponing that they hated not using them before their expiration date.

Around 45 minutes after Eddie took his medicine, his speech started to slur and his eyes kept trying to close themselves no matter how hard he fought to keep them open.

“Time for a nap, sleepy head,” Dottie pushed his thigh with her sock-clad foot.

“M’fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, and immediately yawned.

“You were saying?”

“Ugh, fine. Jus’ a short nap, gotta get you home,” he muttered, tucking himself into the couch cushions.

“Ed, you need to rest if you want to get better,” she insisted, pulling him onto his feet with her hands on his wrists. “That means sleeping in your bed, not on the couch.”

“Room’s dirty,” he said, standing on wobbly feet. “Don’ wan’ you to look.”

“Okay, I won’t look. I swear.”

Satisfied with a promise that she obviously did not intend to keep, Eddie let her lead him towards his room at the other end of the trailer. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she opened the door. It was like his closet had exploded onto the floor, clothes strewn everywhere, no indication as to which ones were clean and which ones were not. His bed was unmade and his bedsheets were rumpled into a ball in the middle of the mattress, an overflowing ashtray sat on his bedside table and a thin sheen of dust covered the objects he clearly did not use very often. Dottie helped him shrug his hoodie off and helped him get comfortable under his blankets, already making a list of things she could straighten up without waking him up once he was safely on his way to DreamLand. He turned to his side and coughed a few times.

“I’ll get you some water,” she said, but before she could stand, he shot out a hand to grab her wrist.

“No, stay,” he muttered. Dottie was very familiar with the particular kind of drowsy associated with her allergy meds and knew that he was somewhere between awake and completely unconscious. He was gonna be out like a light in a few if she had her math right. “M’legs feel weird.”

“They feel heavy?” he nodded. “Go to sleep, silly. You’re gonna feel better when you wake up.”

“Okay,” was the last thing he said before his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out.

Dottie knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help but stare at him for a few moments as he slept. He looked so peaceful, his long eyelashes almost touching the top of his cheeks, soft freckles decorating his skin. He didn’t move when she stood up, didn’t even flinch when she tucked his hair behind his ear and pulled the covers up higher. Surveying the room around her, she spotted a white plastic bag underneath his desk and quickly retrieved it, starting to clean up some of his mess. First thing to go into the bag were the cigarette butts; then the few cans lying around, the crumpled snack wrappings and pencil shavings on his desk. She was in the middle of picking up a denim jacket strewn on his desk while suppressing a snort at the busted handcuffs hanging from the wall - and oh, did she want to ask about them some time - when she noticed a black shadow hovering above her head.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered to herself, recognizing instantly what it was.

In the corner of Eddie’s room, displayed like a piece of art, was the most likely cause of his long-lived allergies: black mold. Dottie could have kicked herself at not paying attention when she walked in; the stain was so big she wondered how she had missed it in the first place. Immediately remembering her Uncle Johnny’s retelling of his encounter with black mold behind an old broken washing machine back in ‘69, she looked back at Eddie wondering if he would listen if she told him to get rid of it. Judging by the state of his bedroom, he wouldn’t, so she steeled herself for what was possibly gonna be a very awkward conversation and hoped to the stars she’d come out on the other side as a victor.

“Mr. Wayne?” she asked, stepping back into the main area of the trailer. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t want to be disrespectful but did you know there’s mold in Eddie’s bedroom?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, lowering the fire on the stove to let the soup simmer. “Been tellin’ Ed he should clean that up but you know how he is. I think the only reason he listened when I told him to patch up the roof was so it wouldn’t rain on that fancy guitar of his.”

“Sounds like Eddie,” she smiled. “In any case, if he’s not gonna do it himself, would you be okay with me cleaning it up for him? I think that’s what’s causing his allergies and he could get very sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in.”

“Don’t know what my nephew has told you but you are a guest here, not a maid,” Wayne said, pointing with his head at the trash bag in her hand.

“I’m a friend,” she said, like it was the simplest fact known to man. “This is what friends do for each other. They help out, even if they are as stubborn as Eddie. Especially when they are as stubborn as Eddie.”

“Don’t I know that,” he snorted, his features softening. “He can be hard to be around sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does. I can see where he gets it from.”

Wayne liked to think of himself as a man of few but intentional words. As he looked at the young girl in front of him, he realized that they both knew exactly what was happening in this conversation and they were both on the same page. Eddie didn’t often ask for help; in fact, help was almost always simply thrust upon him disguised as a nonchalant act or a trade, and the eldest Munson knew that this request was as much for his nephew as it was for Dottie. He stirred the soup for a few seconds, and finally set down his wooden spoon.

“Y’know he’s gonna get mad when he sees what you did.”

“I’d rather deal with an angry Ed than have him start coughing up blood,” Dottie said. “But I won’t do it if it bothers you. This is your home and I’m aware I’m overstepping just by asking about it.”

“Well, it’s like you said, right? Friends help out,” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “So what do you need?”

“I just need him out of the trailer for an hour. He’s not gonna let me do it otherwise, he didn’t even want me in there in the first place.”

“I’ll get him out of your hair, don’t worry ‘bout it. Need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, thank you. You’re busy with dinner, I can ask my Dad to pick me up if you let me borrow your phone for a second.”

“All yours, kid,” he pointed behind her to where the phone was hanging from and went back to his cooking.

Fifteen minutes later, Wayne was in the middle of explaining his soup recipe to Dottie when a car horn interrupted their talk. The older man walked her outside and waved at James, who waved back at him from the front seat of his car.

“Tell Ed I said bye!” she said, skipping down the front steps to the trailer.

“Bye, Dot. See you on Thursday,” he said, resting an arm on the door frame. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

Dottie stopped at the last step for half a second before hurrying up the stairs again and wrapping her arms around the eldest Munson with a bright smile on her face. She squeezed him tightly before letting go, her expression sincere and yet a little bit embarrassed.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne. See you on Thursday,” was all she said, before disappearing into her dad’s car and leaving down the dirt road.

He watched them leave, sitting on his doorstep and fishing a cig out of the front pocket of his work shirt. He chuckled to himself after taking the first drag, thinking about his nephew taking a nap in his room, about the black stain he kept telling him to clean up to no avail, and about the girl who refused to take no for an answer. About how there was definitely something different about Dorothy Burke, and how maybe, just maybe, what separated her from all the other kids her age was exactly what made her so similar to Eddie after all.

Wednesday, May 7th - 1986

Hawkins High’s library wasn’t as big as her former school’s library, but had so far proved sufficient enough for all her researching needs. Thus, Dottie found herself perusing the Home Economics section after claiming to need a book for an essay, resorting to little white lies in the hopes that Eddie wouldn’t look too much into them. He seemed to be in brighter spirits that day, still sniffling and occasionally coughing into his elbow, but his eyes were less swollen and teary with the help of his newly acquired allergy meds. Still, Dottie insisted (perhaps a bit too much, but he wasn’t about to fight her about it) that he take a nap during their shared free period in an effort to get back to full health as quickly as possible. He didn’t even think about how unusual it was for her to even suggest it before resting his head on his balled up jacket, arms folded on top of their secluded table at the back of the room.

“Do you need any help, sweetie?” Mrs. James, the school’s librarian, said, startling Dottie from her trance scanning the table of contents in what looked to be yet another useless book. “You’ve been going through every shelf in this section, maybe I can help you find what you need?”

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t think to ask,” Dottie smiled at the old lady. “I’m trying to do some research on mold and I’m stumped.”

“Mold? Why, I think you ought to be looking in the science section then! Is this for a Biology class? Maybe you can ask Mr. Brooke if he has any recommendations.”

“Actually, I was looking into mold removal for Home Ec? You know, like in old houses or bathrooms!”

“Hmmm, can’t say I recall any books like that off the top of my head but let me check. There must be something about home repairs somewhere,” she walked away towards the front desk, muttering to herself.

Dottie followed her into the main area of the library, always keeping an eye on the path towards the table where Eddie was resting upon, blissfully unconscious and unaware of his surroundings. Mrs. James rummaged through a set of drawers full of neat cards, nodded once and promptly disappeared through a back door behind her desk. Dottie waited, her hopes dwindling as she stared at the clock on the wall counting down the minutes until the bell rang.

She was distracted, rapping her chipped sparkly red nails on the wooden surface in front of her when she felt a weight settle across her shoulders, and smelled her sleepy friend before she even saw him. Eddie’s clothes generally had faint traces of smoke hidden behind Old Spice after shave, generously applied cheap woodsy cologne and gentle laundry detergent, his battle vest adding a hint of pungent weed to the mix. She had only noticed a few days prior that his hair always smelled like green apple in the mornings, most likely thanks to his predilection of showering as a way of waking himself up. Dottie knew that if it had belonged to anyone else, she wouldn’t have found the mix of aromas as charming as she did - she thought of it as a side effect of that newly discovered pesky little crush she consciously chose not to dwell too much about.

“Well, that was a hell of a nap,” he muttered into her hair, voice and limbs still heavy with sleep.

“And you woke up on your own before the bell rang, I’m impressed,” she said.

“So… what are we waitin’ for?”

“Mrs. James is looking something up for me in the back, you can wait at the table if you want.”

“Nah, I’m cozy,” he said, putting all his weight onto her shoulders, her knees wobbling a little bit before she caught herself on the desk.

Dottie was sure he’d dozed off while standing up and the way he jumped when the bell rang didn’t really convince her otherwise. It was still ringing when Mrs. James reappeared from wherever she had been hiding in her backrooms, a small book with a bit of a lengthy title in white letters at the front. She waved it around as if it were a valuable carnival prize.

“I’m not sure it’ll be of much help, but I think it’s the closest you’ll find here,” she admitted. “Just sign this, you can fill in the rest when you return it. You don’t want to be late for class!”

“Thank you!” Dottie hurried to sign the form attached to a clipboard and tucked the book into her chest to hide the front from Eddie. “I’ll let you know if it helped.”

“Oh, please do! If it doesn’t, maybe you could check the local library? It’s much bigger than this one, I bet they’ll have what you need.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll bring this one back tomorrow, I promise.”

“You can keep it for a week, sweetie, don’t worry. Now go on, get to class you two!”

“Did you get the feeling she was trying to get rid of us or was it just me?” Eddie muttered, a sly smile on his face while they gathered their things and left the library.

“Just doing her duty in helping you to graduate, that’s all,” Dottie joked back, shoving her newly acquired book deep into her backpack.

“See you at lunch?” he said, walking backwards through the quickly emptying hallway.

“Of course! See ya!”

She watched him nod once and bolt towards his Latin class when the second warning bell rang. Dottie took a second to take a deep breath before walking into her World History classroom where Jeff was already waiting for her, his usual calm smile on his face. She really didn’t like hiding things from her friends, but since she only had Eddie’s benefit in mind, she hoped he wouldn’t be as pissed off as she feared he would be when he found out.

Gareth’s house had big windows on the west side that opened up to a medium sized backyard, thick green grass extending until the end of the property. His parents had debated on building a pool back when the kids were younger, but as it turned out, pools were much more expensive than what they were willing to spend at that moment. They had ended up getting a blow up pool that served its purpose perfectly for a few hot summers until Gareth crashed his bike into it at age 12 and punctured it.

Eddie felt marginally better than the day before and was looking forward to taking his second dose of allergy meds once he got home, but for now, he was content to tuck himself into his friend’s armchair and read through Jeff’s Biology notes. Besides, having the girl he was hard crushing on in his line of sight was always a plus. Dottie, on the other hand, wished Eddie would just fall the fuck asleep so she could skim her damn book without him noticing. Homeowner’s Quick-repair and Emergency Guide by Max Alth was still carefully hidden between her other possessions in her backpack when Jeff plopped down on the seat across from hers at the dining table.

“Heyyyy,” he said, awkwardly.

“Hey?”

“I, uh, I need advice on something but if you don’t wanna talk about it, just… tell me to fuck off, okay? I won’t hold it against you, I promise.”

“Okay?” Dottie stared at him like he had grown two heads overnight.

“So, I remember you mentioning you have a book about Victorian flower language?” he waited for her to nod in confirmation before continuing. “I was hoping you could tell me what to get, y’know, for Mother’s Day.”

“Oh! Of course, I’d love to help! What did you have in mind?” she smiled, understanding now where his hesitance was coming from.

“Just something nice, doesn’t really matter if it’s expensive. Bobby’s coming home, said he’s pitching in.”

“Aw, that’s cool. I’m sure your Mom will be happy to have both her boys home.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Haven’t told him about Virginia yet, I’m kinda terrified he’s gonna get pissy about it and ruin the day for Mom. He can be… intense about the military stuff, even more than my Dad. It’s so annoying.”

“Well, that’s his own fucking problem,” she scoffed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, not your fault he can’t see you are not a kid anymore and can make your own choices. But never mind Bobby, we were talking about your Mom! I’ll bring my book to school tomorrow, we can look through it together if you want, find something cute.”

“That sounds great, thank you!” he smiled wide, his braces full on display. He couldn’t wait until he got them removed. “Are you… Like… Man, I don’t know if this is okay to ask-”

“Jeff, it’s okay,” she patted his hand across the table. “You can ask, I don’t mind.”

“I was just wondering if you celebrate or anything like that.”

“I do, in my own way.”

From his comfy spot on the couch, Eddie watched Dottie pull her backpack into her lap and rummage through her books, finding a baby pink envelope between them and sliding it over to Jeff with a shy smile. His heart rate picked up, could it be…? Was she showing him what she had received or was she giving it to Jeff? Maybe there had never been a secret admirer, maybe… maybe Dottie had always just liked Jeff and Eddie had been so far up his own ass he’d never noticed it before. And who could blame her? Jeff was kind, gentle in ways that Eddie couldn’t fathom being. He was going to a good college, had a bright future ahead of him, came from a nice family. He watched them talk; Dottie leaned over the table, pointing something out to him on the card. Jeff was polite, a fantastic singer, a great friend. One of Eddie’s best friends, actually. Fuck, I’m such an idiot, I can’t ruin this for them, I’m-

Jeff carefully put the card back into the envelope and gave it back to her, stopping to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Eddie’s pulse returned somewhat to its normal rhythm when Dottie put the pink paper inside her backpack, tucked into the same spot she’d taken it out from. Donny got up from his spot on the floor, books forgotten, and slid himself into the chair next to Dottie’s, arm resting behind her. She leaned into his shoulder using his arm as a neck pillow, the three friends now engaged in animated conversation. Eddie caught a few words as their voices raised: the boys were trying to talk her into going to next week’s gig at The Hideout. He looked down at Jeff’s Biology notes resting on his thighs and ran a hand over his eyes. Everything was normal, nothing had changed, and yet everything felt different for him anyways.

Eddie had always been proud of his ability to hold his shit together no matter what. He considered himself an expert in bottling up, shoving things under the rug until they could no longer be seen. But this mystery card situation? It was absolutely messing him up. If he had discovered something about himself in the past two days, it was that even though he wasn’t a jealous asshole, he could still be a jealous man, and that knowledge embarrassed him to the bone. He didn’t like the way all his insecurities screamed at him whenever he compared himself to his best friends, detailing all his shortcomings and failures, constricting his chest and leaving him breathless. In his mad panic, a lone image of having to watch Dottie fall in love with someone else while he got left behind kicked him square in the chest.

Dottie turned her head to the side, looked at him sitting alone on the couch and beckoned him over with her hand, a soft smile gracing her features. He realized right there, as loud thunder cracked open the sky and the long awaited rain made its return to Hawkins, that he could take a step to the side if she needed him to. He would let her be happy with someone else, even if it was with one of his best friends. Even if it pained him to imagine it. But he also realized that Eddie Munson wasn’t going to go down without trying. Once they were alone tomorrow, he was gonna ask about the card and if her answer turned out to be less than favorable for him, he’d be supportive and encouraging. He would be a good friend, just like she’d always been to him. And most importantly, if she happened to choose Jeff, or Gareth, or Donny, he would never let it come between him and his band mates. All his friendships would remain intact, he would make damn sure of it. But he couldn’t quit before he tried.

Eddie joined them at the table, mirroring Donny’s position and letting his arm fall behind on Jeff’s chair. Jeff leaned into his shoulder and batted his eyes at him, clearly making fun of Dottie who chucked an eraser at his chest in response. Everything will work itself out, Eddie thought, watching Gareth pull up a chair to the table. We’ll be fine.

“Honey, can you set the table?” James called from the kitchen, hands busy finishing dinner.

“Yeah,” Dottie replied, barely loud enough for him to hear her.

James took the chicken out of the oven, setting it on the empty stove top and transferred it from the sheet pan to a more appropriate container that wouldn’t burn the surface of the wooden table when placed upon the tablecloth. He was adding the final touches to his roasted potatoes when he lifted his head and noticed his daughter hadn’t yet moved from her spot on the couch, legs dangling from the arm, book propped on her thighs. This wasn’t an unusual sight in the Burke household; Dottie had an affinity towards never sitting like a normal person, something that he’d always found extremely amusing. James leaned out of the passthrough window to call her attention again.

“Can Her Majesty please set the table today if she wishes to eat while it’s hot?”

“I’m coming, hold on,” she finally got up, book still in her hand and being held open by her thumb in the middle of the gutter.

“What are you reading?”

“Something I got from the school’s library. I think it’s a bust but it’s the only one they had on this topic.”

“What topic?” he asked, and Dottie lifted the cover so he could see. “Homeowner’s Guide? Did you buy a house I wasn’t aware of?”

“Yeah, you know that blue Victorian mansion on Morehead Street? Got it at a discount because someone got murdered in there,” Dottie said in a deadpan tone.

“You hate haunted houses but you’re gonna live in one?” he snorted, watching her come in and out of the kitchen to the living room carrying plates and cups with only one hand.

“Nah, I’m gonna fix it up and turn a profit.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, proudly.

Once they were seated at the dinner table, plates full and cheeks stuffed with homemade bread, Dottie went back to her reading, going back and forth from the table of contents to various pages she was marking with her fingers. This was also not unusual behavior coming from the teenager; James was very much used to her being absorbed in whatever she was reading at any given time, so much so that sometimes she’d make herself a snack or a cup of tea to enjoy while getting lost in her fantasy worlds and completely forget about it until hours later. He supposed he only had himself to blame for that, having encouraged reading since she had learned to sound out her own name. It was, however, extremely strange to see her this engrossed in non-fiction, particularly about a subject that she had never really shown much interest in before. She loved baking and cooking, sewing, knitting and doing various kinds of crafty things, but she’d never been curious about home repairs. Sometimes she’d wait for days until James changed a lightbulb for her, claiming she didn’t want to do it herself because she was probably gonna get electrocuted. James supposed that was also his fault, pampering his daughter so much that she had never really needed to learn how to do it in the first place.

“I’d like to talk with my daughter during dinner like a normal family, please,” he said, tapping the top of her book.

“Sorry, it’s… I’m doing research on mold removal and I’m getting nowhere,” she huffed, finally setting the offending pages aside and looking up at him. “This book sucks, can’t believe this guy’s advice for an intruder is to get a dog.”

“We’re not getting a dog.”

“Do you enjoy ruining my fun?”

“I signed a contract, it’s my duty as your Dad,” James grinned. “Why do you want to learn about mold removal?”

“Remember I told you about Eddie’s allergies? He has mold in his room, Wayne said I could clean it but I don’t really know how.”

“Wayne asked you to clean Eddie’s moldy room?”

“No, of course not!” she glared at her dad like he was insane for even suggesting it. “I asked for permission to do it. I’m worried about Eddie, he could get really sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in. I just- I wanted to do something nice for him, that’s all. He’s always driving me around and doesn’t let me pay him for gas, it feels like I’m taking advantage of him.”

“A good deed for a good deed?” James said, softening.

“I was thinking about it more like payment in kind.”

“And you said the book isn’t helping?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the P. “Not a single mention of mold but plenty on wasps.”

“Why don’t you ask Uncle Johnny? He cleaned up the mold behind the washer and it never came back, he might remember how he did it.”

“Huh, hadn’t thought of asking him. Thanks.”

After dinner, Dottie hurried to wash all the dishes before dialing a very familiar number she was sure she’d remember her entire life. Sat on one of the kitchen island stools, pompom pen in one hand and cord stretched to its limit, she heard the phone ring once, twice, thrice before someone picked up from the other side.

“Hello?”

“Hi Uncle Johnny, it’s me!”

“Hey tiny, how’s it going? How’s your Dad?” his voice was soft and warm just like it always was; Dottie could hear his smile in every word.

“Good, good, he’s taking a shower. I was actually calling because I need help with something important.”

“Uh oh, do you want me to get Mary Elizabeth?”

Johnny and Mary Elizabeth had gotten married the summer after Dottie turned five; she got to fulfill the role of flower girl at the modest but gorgeous wedding, stealing all the looks as she danced with her Dad all night and fell asleep before the cake was cut. The couple had been friends since their first year at college, but they had started dating only a year before Johnny proposed during a cheap last minute holiday in Vermont. They had the kind of relationship that made Dottie believe in true love: two best friends who supported one another through financial turmoil, illnesses, debts, and grief, and kept choosing each other every day despite the hardships. Every time she saw them, she hoped that someday she’d get as lucky as they did when they found each other.

“No, I need your expertise this time,” she said, twirling the stretched cord around her pen. “Remember when you got rid of that mold behind the washer? A friend of mine has a mold issue and I was wondering if you could tell me how to clean that up.”

“Hell yeah, I remember, that stuff was gross. Got something to take notes on?” he asked, getting comfy in his armchair back in New York.

Around fifteen minutes later, James popped into the kitchen in his pjs with a ball of dirty clothes under his arm. He stepped around the island and threw the pile into a half filled basket in the laundry room for him to sort out the next day while he listened to Dottie on the phone.

“What do you mean it’s toxic?” she asked, and crossed something in her notebook. “Oh, okay, I won’t. Yeah, I think so. Two. One might be stuck but I know the big one opens-” she paused, listening. “Great, I’ll do that then. Thank you so much! Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him you said that,” she rolled her eyes. “Bye, love you! Say hi to Mary Elizabeth and Rosie for me. Thank you again!”

“Everything okay?”

“He says that he saw that movie you told him to watch and it sucked.”

“I know. That’s why I told him to watch it,” James grinned. “Did he help with the mold thing?”

“Big time,” she said, her sly smile matching her Dad’s. “That ceiling is gonna look brand new when I’m done with it, I promise.”

taglist (let me know if you want me to add you!): @munsonology

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #hellfire club #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #wayne munson #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

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tokuvivor · 1 year

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DuckTales Character Songs! (Part 1)

I’ve been trying to come up with something unique to do here on Tumblr. And it always sorta came back to this. A couple reasons. 1. I had my own radio show in college, so I already know what it’s like to try and nail songs down for what you want to convey. 2. Last year, I did a bunch of playlists for Weblena Week, and I’d say it worked out pretty well.

So, I give to you: my list of DuckTales character songs! Now, I’m going to be sticking to one song per character, ones that I feel suit them very well. I’m going to start out here with the 9 principal characters, then major recurring characters from each of the seasons, totaling out to 4 parts in all.

Of course, I can’t take all the credit here. I’ve done a fair amount of brainstorming on this before with @glowyjellyfish. That said, let’s get started!

Scrooge McDuck

Money (That’s What I Want) by Barrett Strong

The song is kinda self-explanatory. Scrooge is one of the richest ducks in the world. He has an entire building for all of his savings. Plus, this sums up his mindset at the beginning of the series really well, before he really let himself open back up to his family. And this version of the song just has the right swaggering vibe to it. Also, RIP Barrett Strong.

Huey Duck

Surface Pressure by Jessica Darrow from Encanto

Just like Luisa Madrigal, Huey has all of this pressure on his shoulders as the oldest sibling. Trying to live up to expectations. He wants to show Dewey and Louie that he has it all together, but sometimes, he just doesn’t. It all builds up until it’s ready to blow.

Dewey Duck

Hall of Fame by The Script feat. will.i.am

Dewey is a very grandiose character. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was his daily mantra or something. “You could be the greatest, you can be the best, you can be the King Kong banging on your chest.” He wants to be seen. He wants to be a legend.

Louie Duck

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears

Louie is ambitious. He wants to climb to the top of the food chain. He wants to rule the world. He knows it’s not going to be easy, he’ll have a lot of competition, but he won’t let it stop him.

Webby Vanderquack

Roar by Katy Perry

This one has definitely struck me as a Webby-ish song for some time. Seeing this song from her point of view, I’d say she’s kinda facing her past (“You held me down, but I got up”). She’s been sheltered for most of her life, and now that she has all these new opportunities, she’s going to break out and take them.

Donald Duck

Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra

This song is appropriate for Donald in two ways. One, the fact that he was stuck on the moon during the second half of Season 2. And two, his relationship with Daisy. After all, it is kind of a love song, too. Plus, I can totally see Daisy envisioning Donald singing like Sinatra, considering that one scene in Louie’s Eleven!

Bentina Beakley

Have You Got It in You? by Imogen Heap

At least in my opinion, it’s tough to find songs that really fit Mrs. Beakley. But I think this song definitely works for her. A lot of the time, Beakley tries to keep everything together, but she has to deal with a ton of bullshit on the daily, so it can be hard. I think the line “Let me have it all, let me have a battle on. Easy target, look, can we just, just get it over with?” suits her because of her spy background, and the fact that sometimes, all she probably wants to do is snap on somebody, get it out of the way, and get back to her task at hand.

Launchpad McQuack

Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra

I think the title is very appropriate, considering that Launchpad is a pilot. I think the tone of the song, as well as a few of the lyrics, very much suit his carefree personality. Even though he doesn’t always keep his eye ahead, Launchpad likes flying or driving around without a care in the world. Especially with Mr. Blue Sky out and about.

Della Duck

Got to Fly by Marian Call

This song perfectly sums up Della’s desire to go to the stars, then being stuck on the moon, having the consequences of what she did hit her all at once, and then having her mind racing at 1,000 miles an hour over all the things she needs to do, especially after she gets back home (ADHD struggles).

So that’s it for now! Next time around, I’ll be doing major recurring characters initially from Season 1. In the meantime, let me know what you think of these!

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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‘Tis The Damn Season: Chapter Two

pairing: marcus pike x f!ofc (Nathalie Moss)

chapter rating: M (talks of panic attacks, so much yearning, this chapter is tame but the smut show starts next chapter)

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist | series playlist

Every Saturday morning, Mrs. Moss’s craft store holds an art class, usually taught by Nathalie or herself although neither of them were artists, exactly. The classes were simple: watercolors, knitting, sewing 101, some beginner pottery. The classes were easy because most of the time only elementary-aged children showed up to it. Occasionally a couple bored high schoolers might stop by, but it was an extreme rarity that a childless adult made an appearance.

So you can imagine Nathalie’s surprise and horror when she walked into the classroom and saw Marcus and Emily seated, giggling together in this week’s class.

“A-alright then,” she began, her eyes traveling all over the room but never at the two adults sticking out like sore thumbs. “Today we’re going to be painting with watercolors.”

One of her regular students, no older than ten stuck her hand up high in the air. “Miss Nathalie?”

“Yes, Amira?”

“What are we going to be painting?”

“Well, you know I like to let you guys decide what you want to paint because that way it’s special and completely you,” she smiled through her answer, the little girl nodding in response.

In her peripheral, she saw another longer, more muscular arm raise, a sigh building in her lungs as she turned her eyes to his, a half-grin on Marcus’ handsome face.

“Miss Nathalie?” He called, a small smile forming on her face against her will at the simple sound of his voice paired with her name.

“Yes, Marcus?” She asked, her smile now matching his wide grin, Emily’s eyes darting between the two of them as though they were in a standoff of sorts.

“What will you be painting today?” He asked innocently, although his smirk and eyes traveling up and down her body told her his thoughts were far from innocent.

Nathalie rolled her eyes and chuckled, taking in a slow inhale as she studied the mischief in his chocolate eyes.

“Something for my mom,” she finally admitted, Marcus’ smile softening as he nodded once.

“That’s a good idea, Miss Nathalie. I think I’ll do that too.”

Emily’s eyes had stopped studying the two of them, choosing instead to look down at her blank paper. Nathalie realized herself, clearing her throat before turning back to the children in the class.

“Okay, does everyone know how to paint with watercolors? I think everyone was here when we went over it last month, right?” All of the children nodded and began on their paintings, a spark of pride swelling in Nathalie’s chest as she watched them work. Even if she wasn’t pursuing the career she’d always dreamed of anymore, it felt nice to make an impact on these young lives with the simple and undeniable magic of art.

“Miss Nathalie?” Marcus seemed to be in a persistent mood today, and while that would’ve filled her with an electrifying, girlish giddiness before, with him being on a date, it only made her feel guilty. Emily was right there, and although Marcus’ intentions may have been innocent, she knew all too well what it was like to feel second-best. She wouldn’t put Emily through that no matter how badly she wanted to be Marcus’ first choice.

“What?” She snapped, wiping the smile off his face.

“…Emily’s cup has no water in it.” Nathalie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of course he wasn’t trying to flirt with her. He was simply looking out for his date.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She walked over to their table and grabbed the cup, carrying it over to the sink to fill it halfway before delivering it with a well-meaning smile. Emily looked at her like she was the most evil woman in the world, her glare more threatening than anything she’d ever seen before. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The blonde snapped, yanking the cup from her hand and setting it down.

“I…” Nathalie meant to respond but Marcus turned his head and allowed his eyes to wander up to Nathalie’s as she stood behind their chairs, effectively silencing her. Her chest tingled with panic and shame and guilt and just about every other awful feeling in the world, all of those nasty emotions combining to form a tornado of anxiety that started to wreck her from the inside. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

Nathalie rushed out of the store’s classroom in a hurry, weaving through the aisles until she spotted her mother standing at the register in the front of the store, no customers in sight. As though she was a little girl scared of a monster under her bed, she clung to her mother in a desperate hug, burying her face in her sweater.

“Nattie, whats wrong?” Mrs. Moss stroked the back of her daughter’s head, a look of concern on her face though Nathalie couldn’t see it. She shook with sobs in her mother’s embrace, trying to focus on the familiar perfume she’d been wearing since Nathalie was a little girl rather than the man in the other room determined to ruin her.

“M…Marcus,” she croaked in a whisper, lifting her head up. Mrs. Moss wiped her daughters tears away, her brows still laced together as she studied the panic in Nathalie’s eyes. “He’s with Emily.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her voice soft as she read between the lines of what her daughter truly meant to say. Why is he with Emily and not me? “How about you stay up here and run the register and I’ll go take care of the class?”

Nathalie nodded, her eyes blinking away the tears that remained. Her mother leaned over to kiss her temple, whispering something incoherent to her daughter, but Nathalie didn’t need to hear it to know what she was saying.

Your time will come.

She’d been telling her that since she was a little girl, always yearning and demanding more from this life. Like when she saw the older kids in her neighborhood, Marcus being one of them, heading off to school every fall while she was still too young to even know how to tie her own shoes, your time will come. When she desperately wanted to mature and have the breasts and curves that all the other girls had developed over the summer while she remained flat as a board, your time will come. When her friends in high school got their drivers licenses and hand-me-down cars, Nathalie unable to even pass the written test, your time will come. When all of her college friends were falling in love and getting engaged while Nathalie struggled to even say ‘hi’ to a man, your time will come. Even this summer when Nathalie broke down in front of her parent’s home, having just arrived from her long journey from Chicago, sobbing out ‘When do I get to be happy like everyone else?’ into her father’s chest, your time will come.

She needed only to believe it.

“Hey!” Nathalie jumped at a familiar, soft voice as it broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes lifting to the woman standing in front of her register. Forcing a smile onto her face, she whispered a greeting back to Mrs. Pike, hoping that she couldn’t see the redness in her eyes brought on by her son’s mere existence. “I thought you were teaching the class today?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to but…I’m having an off day today. Didn’t want the kids to have to witness it.” She shrugged and began to scan her cart full of yarn and other knitting supplies.

“Hey, why don’t you come over tonight? Remember how I used to invite you over to bake when you were little? I’ve got a few pies I need to make for the church’s bake sale. Might be a good way to distract yourself a bit?” Nathalie sucked in a sharp breath and held it, the thought of running into Marcus again preventing her from immediately agreeing to the thoughtful invitation. “Marcus was supposed to help me but he’s taking Emily out ice skating tonight. So, it’ll just be me and you…and maybe Mr. Pike snoring in the living room.”

Though the thought of Marcus and Emily out on a date tonight stung her jealous heart, Nathalie let out an airy chuckle, shrugging her shoulders as she nodded in agreement. “Sure. That sounds lovely, Mrs. Pike.”

“Good, how about you come by around five or six?” Nathalie nodded and bagged her final item. After paying, Mrs. Pike gave her one last smile and they said their goodbyes, leaving Nathalie alone to think about what she needed to do to get over her son once and for all.

Yeah, right.

Nathalie had her current read in her hands as she sat on a wooden stool behind the register, the store having been particularly slow all day aside from the children and two adults in the back finishing up their watercolors.

“No, I really just don’t see the point in abstract art. It makes my head hurt and stomach sick, it’s…hard to look at.” Emily’s voice sounded from somewhere in the store, forcing Nathalie to set her book down as she realized the couple was getting closer.

“That’s sort of the point.” Marcus replied in an almost irritated tone, as though this hadn’t been the first thing they’d disagreed on. Nathalie sucked in a breath of strength as the couple approached the register, Emily’s hands empty but Marcus’ holding a leather-bound sketchbook and some pencils. His eyes locked with Nathalie’s as he set his things down on the counter, the softness in them seeming almost apologetic, though she was almost certain she was simply searching for what she wanted to see. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Nathalie lowered her eyes to the sketchbook, running her hands over the leather. “You…uh…we have an embossing machine. It’s, uh, free. If you wanted to have your name put on it.”

“Oh,” his tone grew lighter, his eyes brightening too. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Follow me,” she spoke through a sigh, hating herself for the elongated amount of time spent in his presence when she could’ve just rang him up and sent him on his way.

“How long is this supposed to take?” Emily asked, glancing at her watch.

“Uh…like ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?” She repeated as though Nathalie had told her they’d be standing here for an eternity. “Marcus, I have that appointment I need to get to.”

“Oh, right,” Marcus looked longingly at both Nathalie and his sketchbook, his heart set on both the embossment and the extra time spent in his neighbor’s presence.

“I can just ring you up now and drop it off at your house later on if you want,” Nathalie offered with a faint smile and a shrug.

“You’re an angel,” he complimented, the sincerity in his tone shocking not only Nathalie, but Emily as well. Marcus cleared his throat as he realized both women were staring at him. “Anyways, if you could just—“

“Right.” Nathalie carried the sketchbook back to the register, quickly ringing them up and wishing them a good afternoon, her eyes locking with Marcus’ as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

Did he have any clue at all of what that did to her? Did he have any idea that in the one week he’d been home he’d made her feel more alive than her ex-fiancé ever did in their seven years of being together? Was he aware that the sight of him with another woman drove her to the point of madness? Clearly, he must not have.

“Oh, look at this!” Mrs. Pike had been entertaining Nathalie with photo albums from every Christmas since Marcus had been born. She laid a photo album from twenty or so years ago in her lap, pointing at a photo of Nathalie, Marcus, Angela, and her older brother, Jason, in a snow ball fight. “Look at how little you all were.”

“I remember this so clearly in my head. I think I remember going home with a bloody nose,” Nathalie chuckled at the odd memory, Mrs. Pike wincing and nodding.

“Yeah, Marcus meant to hit Jason, but then he ducked and it hit you. Poor thing.” She flipped the page and sure enough there was a polaroid of Nathalie grinning into the camera with blood dripping from her nose, as if she’d earned her first battle wound. “You couldn’t have cared less about it, but Marcus felt so bad! I remember him pestering me everyday about going over to apologize but he was always so shy.”

“Well…” She smiled at the thought of a thirteen year old Marcus, always so sympathetic and compassionate. “I’m sure little me didn’t hold it against him.”

“Oh? Is Marcus home already?” Mrs. Pike looked through the living room window at a pair of headlights pulling into the driveway, Marcus stepping out of his sedan by himself. “I wonder what happened.”

“I should probably be going,” Nathalie stood up but Mrs. Pike was quick to stop her.

“No, no. I’m sure Marcus wouldn’t mind you being over.” Nathalie sighed, panic rising in her chest as she tried to focus on the photos in front of her, mindlessly flipping through the pages in an attempt to distract her mind.

“Everything okay?” Mrs. Pike could be overheard greeting her son in the entryway, a wall separating Nathalie from the pair.

“Yeah, yeah. Emily’s just…not what I’m looking for,” he sighed.

Nathalie could have sworn her heart was beginning to beat itself out of her chest as Marcus rounded the corner, newly stripped of his coat and scarf, his black sweater and jeans fitting his body snugly enough that she could see a faint line of all he had to offer. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting on the sofa, their eyes locking from across the room.

“Nathalie’s been over helping me with some pies,” Mrs. Pike clarified, looking between the pair as they remained frozen in eye contact. Clearing her throat, she couldn’t help but smile at the tension between the two. “I’ll, uh, go open a bottle of wine.”

Nathalie waited until his mother had left the room to speak, gesturing behind him into the dining room.

“Your, uh, sketchbook is on the table.” Marcus finally blinked, swallowing before turning his head around to look into the other room.

“Thanks,” he turned back to her with a nod of his head, his finger pointing at the photo album in her lap. “What year does she have you looking at?”

“Oh,” she chuckled and closed the book to read the cover. “2002. The year of the snowball incident, apparently.”

“Oh no!” He chuckled, walking over and taking the seat beside her, close enough so that his knee was touching hers. He took the book onto his lap and flipped through the pages until he found the pictures Mrs. Pike and Nathalie had just been looking at, gasping at the bloody photo. “Jesus! And look at you…smiling.”

“What can I say? I’m hardcore.” Nathalie’s eyes had yet to see him so close, at least not in years. She studied his profile as he grinned and flipped through the album, pointing things out that she couldn’t hear over the pounding in her chest. “What happened with Emily?”

Marcus’ laughter died down as he turned his head to face her, their lips close enough that she could feel his breathing falter.

“She…said something that turned me off, I guess,” he started, his eyes glued to her lips.

“What…” she began in a shaky, whispered voice. “What did she say?”

“She just said something that I didn’t like about someone I care about.” Nathalie’s breath hitched as his eyes met hers again, her shaking hand wanting to reach out and hold his face but before she could even think about acting on her desire, Mrs. Pike was walking into the room with three glasses of wine, forcing the pair apart. Marcus cleared his throat as he scooted over, his mother grinning to herself.

“Sorry, was I interrupting anything?” Nathalie grabbed her glass of red wine and downed it in one gulp, needing to take the edge off this awkward moment. Marcus chuckled and shook his head at his mother as he sipped on his glass.

“I should, uh…should probably head home, though,” Nathalie stood up and grabbed her purse in a hurry, both Mrs. Pike and Marcus rushing to follow her into the entryway. They watched her as she slid her coat and scarf on before doing the same with her gloves and beanie.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Mrs. Pike worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she assured with a small, hardly visible smile.

“Let me walk you home. Give ma some peace of mind,” Marcus offered innocently enough, but the look in his eye was almost begging. She found herself curious to see what what happen if the two were truly left alone together, even if they were simply walking across the street.

“Sure.”

Marcus wasted no time in putting his coat and scarf, smoothly opening the door for her as she hugged his mother goodbye.

“After you,” Marcus gestured and Nathalie blushed as she walked through the front door first.

He remained close to her as they started their small journey to her front door, their shoulders bumping as they walked at a sluggish pace.

“So…”

“So,” she chuckled. “What exactly did Emily say about me?”

“Who said I was talking about you?” He purposely bumped his shoulder into hers, forcing her eyes to meet his. She raised an eyebrow to challenge him, earning a chuckle as he faced forward. “Fine. She just said that she didn’t like how forward you were with me. That you didn’t respect ‘girl code’.”

“Me?” She placed her hand over her heart in disbelief. “I was forward?”

He shrugged, a knowing smirk growing on his face that had her panic returning. The only thing worse than him not knowing the extent of her feelings for him was him knowing and not caring.

“Nathalie,” he spoke her name and pulled her out of her panic, the whole world hushing to a peaceful quiet, everything but him fading into a blur as she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I was the one being forward.”

“Yes, you were,” she repeated as though it was a fact, not daring to lay all her cards out on the table without seeing his first.

“And you keep disappearing,” he teased, stopping them in the middle of their suburban street covered in a blanket of snow besides a couple tire tracks leading into different driveways. The street lamp in front of her house beamed a golden yellow, illuminating the snowflakes as they began to fall in the faintest dusting over the neighborhood. “Why do you keep disappearing?”

“Why do you think?” She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him.

“Because of Emily?”

“Yes, because of Emily!” She half-shouted, though the smile on her face told Marcus she wasn’t so much upset as she was embarrassed.

“Emily is gone. There’s no more me and Emily,” he assured with equal enthusiasm. “So why now, even with you right here beside me does it feel like you’re disappearing again?”

Nathalie was stunned by both his audacity and his accuracy. She had retreated, putting up a wall between them to save herself from feeling the kinds of feelings she had spent half a year trying to avoid.

“I’m…panicking,” she confessed in a whisper, the snowy night silent enough to allow him to hear it.

“Why?” He asked, reaching to cup her face with his gloved hands, thumbs stroking over the plumpness of her cheeks.

“Because,” she whined, pulling his hands off her face. “Because I just got my heart broken and I’m not ready to risk that again. Especially not with you.”

“Why not with me?” He looked offended, stepping back just a couple inches, his brows laced together and eyes narrowed.

“Because, Marcus! I’ve been in love with the idea of you since I was a little kid.”

The air was thick with tension as they both stared at each other in shock, her confession taking them both by surprise.

“The idea of me?” He finally spoke, his voice a whisper. “Just the idea?”

“Marcus,” she groaned and started towards her house at a normal pace, forcing him to follow her.

“I’m here, Nat,” he grabbed her hand and stopped her as she moved to step up the stairs to her porch. She turned around and met his eyes, the thick layer of ice she’d built around her heart melting the longer she stared into the warm brown of his irises. “I’m here telling you that…I can’t get you out of my head.”

She couldn’t think, let alone react to his confession. This was the sort of thing she used to dream about—Marcus standing in front of her proclaiming his feelings, fighting for her, pulling her out of her own head and back to earth. But this wasn’t a dream. He was real, standing there looking at her with expectant eyes, almost begging her to say yes, say no, say anything.

“I’ve never been able to get you out of my head,” she finally whispered a response, fear palpable in her voice along with a desperate longing that left Marcus weak in the knees. “Not since you hit me with that damn snowball.”

“I’ve always been a terrible flirt,” he chuckled, stepping close enough that he had to bend his neck to look down at her, his hand cradling her jaw while the other held her waist. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she nodded enthusiastically, her eyes locked on his pout. “I’ve literally been waiting years for this, Marcus.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize,” he whispered as he leaned in, Nathalie tugging him closer at the first press of his lips against hers. He hummed against her, the hand on her waist wrapping around her body to hug her close as she held onto his collar for dear life.

She’d only seen women being kissed like this in the movies, that sort of passionate display often too romantic for most real life men, but it was clear that Marcus wasn’t like most men. He held her like she was the only thing in the world he wanted to hold for the rest of his life. He kissed her like he’d never kiss again, stealing her breath only to moan it back against her lips.

“Ahem,” Mr. Moss cleared his throat, the two jumping apart as though they were teenagers caught in the act. Marcus blushed as he wiped his mouth as subtly as he could manage, nodding at her father standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Moss.”

“Marcus.”

Nathalie winced at the awkward situation, turning her eyes from her father and back to the man that had just proven to her that romance still existed.

“Probably should say goodnight,” she held her hand out, smirking at him as he looked down at it.

“Come to dinner with me tomorrow,” he whispered as he slipped his hand against hers.

“Okay,” she chuckled and looked away bashfully, bringing another eye-crinkling grin to Marcus’ face. He shook his head and stepped away from her, knowing that if he stayed there any longer, he might never find the strength to leave.

“Goodnight, Mr. Moss,” he waved at her father who only chuckled in response before bringing his eyes back to Nathalie’s once more. “Night, Nat.”

“Night, Marcus.” Nathalie stayed watching him as he walked across the snow to his parent’s house, his gloved hands tucked in his pocket and head down. Even without seeing his face, he was so handsome it almost hurt to be around him.

“You gonna come inside or what?” Mr. Moss teased, finally earning his daughter’s attention. She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him, a pink hue to her tanned skin as she walked up the steps. “You and Marcus looked like you’re getting along.”

“Dad,” she laughed and shook her head as they walked inside. “Shh.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll quit making fun of you…for tonight.”

“That was a long walk,” Marcus was met at the door by his mother’s teasing, a grin on her face as she watched him blush. “Get lost?”

“Ha-ha,” he shook his head and followed up his fake laughter with a few real chuckles. Hanging his coat and scarf on the coatrack by the door, Marcus let out a content sigh. “We kissed.”

“Oh, you have no idea how happy this makes me, Marcus.” Marcus had never seen his mother so approving and happy over a girl he liked. “Are you taking her out on a real date?”

“Yeah, mom,” laughed. “Taking her out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh, thank god!” She bellowed with joy, squeezing him in a lung-crushing hug. “Try not to move too fast with this one. I like her.”

Marcus chuckled and freed himself from his mothers embrace, still wearing his blush. “I like her too.”

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