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#and its like. a week away from prom
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Rigor Mortis (part 5)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
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(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Part 4, Part 6
summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.
warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here
wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and they were good.
Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.
Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 
You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 
In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 
And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 
And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.
It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 
You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 
He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 
You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 
"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 
"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 
"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 
You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 
He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 
"Stop sticking your nose in."
You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 
"M'not-" 
He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 
"You're not allowed to look."
It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 
"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 
You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 
"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 
For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 
"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."
With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 
Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 
"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 
You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 
He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 
"I thought Jenny was dead?"
You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 
"That was her twin sister, Jane."
"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 
"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"
"No, you watched it without me."
"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"
" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 
"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 
"Begging seems a little strong–" 
He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 
He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 
If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 
Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 
You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 
The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 
~~~
It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 
The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 
On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 
The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 
"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "
You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 
"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."
Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 
There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 
"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 
Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 
"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 
Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 
"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."
"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 
“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.
“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”
“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 
You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.
“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.
“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”
It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 
Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”
“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 
“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”
He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.
“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”
“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”
“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”
“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”
“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”
The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.
“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”
“You went to highschool with him?”
“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”
“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”
“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 
“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”
He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 
“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”
He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”
He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.
“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”
“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.
“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”
~~~
You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 
She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 
Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."
Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 
"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 
"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 
…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 
Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 
Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 
"I know exactly what you can wear!" 
She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 
She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–
You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 
"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."
"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."
"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 
"It's not too much…?" 
"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 
It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 
Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 
"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "
You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 
~~~
Miguel is late – really late .
He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 
The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 
Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 
And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 
He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 
It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 
He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 
He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 
His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 
There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 
" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 
"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."
"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "
He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."
"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "
"I know."
She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 
He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 
"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 
She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 
With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 
" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 
" Her?" Miguel echoes.
" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."
"You and I both know– " 
"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."
"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 
She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 
"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "
"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 
"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."
He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 
"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 
"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 
"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 
She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 
He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 
"Happy birthday." 
She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 
" Miguel��� " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 
"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."
"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"
He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 
"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 
He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 
" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 
He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 
"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 
"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."
She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"
"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."
"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 
"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 
She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 
"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."
"Who with?" 
"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."
" Gross , Jess."
She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 
~~~
Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 
"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."
He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 
You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 
" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."
Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 
"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."
The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 
It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 
It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 
" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 
Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 
You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"
"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 
It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 
You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "
There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 
You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 
The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 
Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 
This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 
Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 
"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."
Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 
It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 
" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 
He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 
" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 
"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 
Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 
" Truth or Dare , Mig."
"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 
"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 
Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 
"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."
" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 
Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.
Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 
You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 
"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 
She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 
"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 
"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 
"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 
You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 
"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 
You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 
Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 
"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."
"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 
The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 
He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 
You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 
Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 
Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 
People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 
Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 
"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 
"Good at what?" You say, confused. 
"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "
"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."
He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 
"....you want to try again?" 
He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 
It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 
Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 
Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 
He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 
There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 
"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.
You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 
It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.
"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 
Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?
There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 
The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 
People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 
Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 
_
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yeollie-plz · 3 months
Text
Turtle Dove
Day 2 of Pedromas! | Masterlist
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dbf! Joel Miller x Innocent! F! Reader
Synopsis: Being raised in the outbreak there wasn't much room for sexual exploration, until Joel came around.
Genre: smut
Warnings: 18+ smut, loss of virginity, p in v sex, age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is 50 something), kissing, oral f! and m! receiving, daddy kink, reader is innocent but also not so innocent, fingering, unprotected sex
Gif credits to owners!
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You were young when the outbreak happened, so you missed out on a lot of milestones. No awkward middle school phase. No prom. No normal teenager relationships.
Sure, there were always boys your age, but they never wanted more than just sex. You knew it was a bit cliché but you wanted your first time to be special. No reason an outbreak should stop your romantic fantasies.
Now you were in your mid twenties and you had yet to even kiss someone. Its not like you were really trying, but it was still a little disappointing. Not to mention your dad was a bit overprotective. You wanted that knight in shining armor to just come in and sweep you off your feet.
Well, that knight did show up. But instead of being in shining armor, he was your dad's best friend, Joel. He was much older than you but that didn't stop you fantasizing about him. Its not like it was ever going to ever happen anyways.
That was until you were pushed into a bathroom by Joel at a party one night. His lips were pushed onto yours. He was like a starving man when he kissed you. It was like he had been waiting for this for a while.
"Can't take the way you look at me anymore. Need to teach you a lesson." He mutters into your mouth, massaging your breast in his hands.
You whimper out his name, as he trails his hands down to your thighs. He hikes your dress up.
"Let me take care of you baby, just need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?" You nod enthusiastically.
Then he gets down on his knees and eats you out until you are writhing mess under his firm grasp.
That was a week ago and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. And Joel hasn't stopped eye fucking since. One week ago and you hadn't even had your first kiss. Now you were sneaking around stealing glances and kisses with your dad's best friend. He trusted him and now he was all but fucking his little girl.
One night your dad comes to you, telling you that he is leaving for a few days. Without a second thought, he decides to have Joel watch over you in the time being, not suspecting anything to be going. But you smile knowingly. Excited at the prospect of spending alone time with Joel.
The night your dad leaves, you put on your best lingerie, which isn't the best since you are in an apocalypse after all! But it will do, really your main draw will be letting Joel fully have you. Isn't it all guy's fantasy to take a girl's virginity? Well, you're hoping its Joel's fantasy at least.
You find Joel in the living room, reading some book. You silently walk over and grab the book from his hand, closing it you place it onto the table next to you. He cocks his head at you, eyes taking in your half naked form.
"Baby, what are you doing?" He asks in amusement, knowing damn well what you are doing.
"Joel, we are alone. I thought that maybe daddy could help me with something." You had found out one day when the two of you had snuck away into a closet, that Joel enjoyed being called daddy. So, you were now using it to your advantage.
His eyes darken, "What do you need daddy to help with, baby girl?"
"I feel funny down here," you let your fingers tease you swollen clit, "I need daddy to make it feel better."
He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your panties. He stands, now towering over you, he takes your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel him already hardening.
"Do you think you can help daddy too?" Letting go of your wrist he now reaches behind your neck. His fingers run up the back of your head, brushing through your hair, before he pushes you down onto your knees.
"I want to help daddy." You confirm after you are sure you are balanced on your knees.
"Good girl, why don't you help daddy out of his pants then?" Fingers start at the buckle of his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it from his belt loops. Then you start with the button, slowly pulling it and the zipper apart. That's when Joel grabs your head again. He uses his other hand to grab his cock out from his underwear.
"Put it in your mouth before I do it for you." He tugs your head forward, urging you to take his dick. You oblige, running your tongue down the underside of his member before wrapping your lips around it. The hand that is in your hair guides your head into a steady pace. Not too far to choke you but enough that he feels good.
This continues for a few minutes, before he can't take it anymore. Either the pace needed to change or he needed to be inside of you. But he wasn't sure you were ready for that. So he slowly pulled you off of him. You look up at him in confusion. Doe eyes making him almost finish right then and there.
"What exactly do you want daddy to do for you?"
"I want all of you, daddy." Shit, apparently you were ready for that.
"Stand up." He orders, you do. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."
Your eyes lock onto his, "I want you inside of me. I want daddy to take care of me." A flicker of mischief flashes behind your eyes, Joel catches it.
He grabs your waist and throws you over his shoulder. Joel carries you down the hall and into your room. Throwing you onto the bed he hovers over you, smirking at you before going down between your legs.
A finger makes contact lightly with the rapidly soaking material of your underwear. He teases you lightly before slipping his finger into the waistband, pulling them down your legs. Now feeling your full wetness, he lets a finger slip pass your entrance. He pumps in and out of you slowly, causing you to wriggle under his grasp.
He lowers his head down and gives a light lick to your clit before pulling back to gauge your reaction. Eyes closed, back arched, your face is already contorting in extreme pleasure.
Deciding that he can't wait any longer, Joel pulls his finger out of you, gaining a whimper from you. He sits up and pulls his shirt up over his head.
"Baby, I need you to look at me." You do. "I'm gonna put my dick inside you now so I need you to look at me." A nod.
Slowly he presses the tip of his dick to your entrance, easing it in just a bit. He feels you clench in anticipation, pushing him out. Your hand reaches up to grab his hip in shock. He takes your hand in his.
"Relax, baby, let it happen. Let daddy take care of you." At his words, you breathe out trying to relax yourself. It works and he pushes fully inside of you.
Your hand grips his, hard. He waits to let you adjust to the stretch. Your hand starts to loosen, he takes this as a sign to pull slowly out of you. You whine at the movement.
"Are you, okay?" He questions after your sound.
You nod, "Yeah, it was just a bit painful at first."
"Do you want me to stop?" The hand in yours squeezes slightly to keep your attention on his. The other one strokes your hip, the callouses on his fingers send a shiver through your spine.
You shake your head, "No, please, I want this."
He nods, "The pain will fade in a minute." A peck to your lips.
His pace is slow as he thrusts back into you, head tossing back at the feeling of your walls wrapping around him. As he pulls out again, he lets out a groan.
"Fuck, so tight around me." He thrusts fully into you while he speaks. You moan as he bottoms out.
He keeps the rhythm slow and steady, letting you get used to and start to enjoy the new feeling. On instinct your hips buck you to meet his. Then all of a sudden he stops. He drops your hand and grabs your hips tight, keeping you still.
“Hold still or I won’t be able to hold back.” He says through gritted teeth, while concentrating on holding back his orgasm.
His breathing slows again before he speaks, “Sorry baby, but I’m not as young as I used to be.” His fingers tap your hips as he starts to move again. His thrusts continue to be slow, but now they seem a bit more careful.
"Daddy, please, I want to see you cum because of me." You admit, trying to show that you didn't mind if he couldn't hold it off for much longer. He grunts at your words.
"Fuck, you can't say those things to me. You're too good to me, baby doll." His pace now quickens with the memory of your words swimming around in his head.
He gets sloppier as he gets quicker, now seeming to be chasing that peak. Joel reaches down between your thighs and rubs your clit.
"Want you to cum with me, baby. Do you think you can do that for daddy?" You nod in response.
He works your clit in circles, quickly getting you to your own peak. Just as your orgasm is about to wash over you, his hips stutter a bit. He recovers quickly and works your clit faster. You clench onto his cock.
A few more thrusts before you are to your edge again, your walls clench onto him again. One more circle on your clit and you are thrown over the edge, spasming around his member. You writhe with the intense feeling of your orgasm.
The intensity of your orgasm seems to also throw him over the edge as he quickly pulls out of you. Working his cock in a fast motion, before cumming all over your stomach and tits. He groans while working himself through his high.
Joel slumps onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into him. His warmth radiates around you, letting sleep overcome you quickly. Just as your breaths even out, Joel places a kiss onto the crown of your head.
"Goodnight, my little dove."
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<- Previous Day | Next Day ->
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Taglist:
@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley
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837 notes · View notes
emmyblues · 2 months
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inbetween
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summary - sometimes a type is just a projection of who you really want, and sometimes the right person is just under your nose
pairing - joe burrow x fem!reader
wordcount - 5.4k
A/N: this request… god its everything ily whoever you are. also sorry it took so long, it was so extensive it took a long time to write, i mean 5.4k words is no joke, especially on top of school and work
masterlist
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Bringing your boyfriend to meet the parents had to be one of the most nerve wracking things to ever exist, at least it was for Y/N. She had been seeing her new partner for two months now, and she finally managed to make their schedules align so she could bring him out to Athens.
She’d moved out to Cincinnati after college, knowing that that’s where Joe would be, and it would be close to their hometown too, made it an easy decision. She’d lived there for four years now, and her dating life had been about as dry as the desert during the entire duration.
She’d of course had partners here and there, but never long term. And the flings she had were so short she couldn’t even count them as anything other than “someone she used to be friends with”. Can’t exactly call someone you hooked up with twice and then ghosted an ex, can you?
But then, in October, she’d met Luke while out getting coffee, and they’d immediately hit it off. He was everything she wanted in a partner; attentive, sweet, smart and attractive. With heavy emphasis on the last one. He had short dirty blond hair and striking blue eyes, and with his 6’3’’ stature, he really checked every box.
So she held his hand up the driveway to her childhood home, seeing an extra, yet familiar, car parked behind her mom’s. She recognized the make, the model, the color, all from her childhood. 
Robin Burrow had yet to let her son buy her a car, despite his many efforts to do so. She was dead set on keeping the same car that she’d driven them to prom in, the one Y/N had thrown up in once after a rough night at sixteen, and the car she saw Joe drive away in after he got into Ohio State.
“Robin and Jimmy are here,” she excitedly told her boyfriend, who nodded along, confused. “They’re friends of my parents, they’re lovely people, don’t worry.”
Knocking on her own door felt like an out of body experience, but walking right in felt weirder somehow, especially when she was bringing someone for the first time.
“It’s open!” She heard from inside the house, and although her initial plan of them meeting him like in all the movies, with her dad shaking his hand before allowing him inside the house and her mom immediately bringing him in for a hug, she should’ve known better. 
“Just be yourself,” she whispered to Luke, knowing he needed reassurance. 
Getting their jackets and shoes off by the entryway, they made their way to the living room, close together but not touching. Luke was very anti-PDA, especially if it was in front of parents or family. He just felt weird about it.
“Hi mommy,” Y/N grinned, rushing over to hug her mom for the first time in a few weeks. “I’m sorry it’s been a while, work has been really hectic.”
“Excuses, I’ve been telling you to just move back in,” the older woman said, squeezing her daughter so tightly her lungs were close to bursting. “You wouldn’t have to pay rent and you’d have a private chef every day.”
“I’m good in Cincinnati, mom,” she giggled, moving over to her dad. “Hey dad, you’ve got coffee in your beard,” she mumbled as she hugged him. 
Next, she turned to the Burrow couple, Robin and Jimmy, who were sitting next to each other on the couch, the former with a cup of coffee in hand.
“Robin!” Y/N exclaimed, wrapping the woman in a warm hug before moving onto Jimmy, giving him the same treatment. “I wish I would’ve known you were coming, I would’ve given you a heads-up.”
She backed away, coming to stand beside Luke, who she wrapped her arm around. “Mom and Dad. Robin and Jim, this is my boyfriend Luke,” she introduced, looking up at her partner proudly.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” her mom greeted, hugging him kindly, her dad offering a handshake.
“Likewise, Y/N talks about you two a lot,” he flashed a smile, eyes crinkling. It was clearly not his first time meeting a partner's parents, it came all too naturally to him.
“Sit, please, I’ll go get you something to drink,” her mom pushed, gesturing to the empty loveseat opposite the couch and beside the armchair her dad was sitting in. “Luke, what do you drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“Black coffee, please.”
“So, Luke, what do you do for a living?” Robin asked politely. 
“I work as a software engineer at a firm in downtown Cincy. It’s a lot of work but I really enjoy it,” he smiled as he answered, loving to talk about anything surrounding his job.
“And where are you from?” Robin inquired again, her inquisitive side taking over. 
“Pittsburgh, originally. I moved here after college though, thanks to my job.”
“Not a Steelers fan, are you?” Jimmy asked, playfully squinting his eyes.
“Yes sir, born and raised.”
Y/N’s dad shared a look with Jimmy, trying to not act like anything is amiss. “You been to any Bengals games then with Y/N? I’d assume Joe could get you some great tickets.”
“No, no. I just can't do that. No offense to Joe, but, nuh-uh,” he shook his head, an awkward smile on his face. “I think my parents would disown me.”
“Fair enough,” Jimmy laughed, just as Y/N’s mom came back into the room with a cup of coffee and tea, handing the drinks to the couple. 
“Thanks mom,” Y/N mumbled, immediately taking a sip to warm herself up some more. Ohio winters really were no joke.
“I haven’t actually been to a game in a while, maybe I should go to the next one,” Y/N mused aloud, sparing a side-eye glance at her boyfriend to gauge his reaction. “Maybe you could come with me, break your rule for once. Maybe I’ll convert you.”
Luke grinned at Y/N, right after smiling toward Y/N’s mom in thanks for the drink. “I don’t know, depending on how good the seats are,” he teased.
“So, how long have you two been dating? Obviously I got the rundown from Y/N but I’d love to hear your side,” Y/N’s mom asked, leaning forward in interest.
“Well, we met at a restaurant, right? I think I was out getting lunch with my buddies.” He sounded unsure and it was clear by the look on Y/N’s face he’d gotten it wrong. “No, wait, it was a café. I’m sorry, just remembered wrong,” he cringed, apologizing under his breath to her as he lightly squeezed her knee. 
“Hey, it’s fine,” Y/N shrugged off, seriously not caring that much. “I think it was like three months ago, now? And we’ve now been together for two,” she summarized, trying to clarify for Joe’s parents as well what was happening.
“That’s so sweet. I love it when couples meet in real life, not over these dating sites and over the internet,” Robin gushed, a warm aura around her.
“Yeah, I might work in tech but you will never catch me on a dating site,” Luke joked.
The meeting continued the same, slightly awkward – which was a given – and filled with questions that were both invasive and unanswerable. Which, to be fair, they had completely expected. 
Only less than an hour later, Luke’s phone pinged for the fifth time in a row, and he finally excused himself to take a look at them. “Sorry, one of my coworkers is having trouble with something and he needs help, I’ll be right back,” he apologized, quickly getting up from the couch and walking back out into the hallway.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Y/N turned to the four adults, a shy grin on her face as she bit her bottom lip in trepidation.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, a hopeful crease on her forehead as her eyebrows rose. “Do you like him?”
Her mom seemed to take a second to answer, looking at her Y/N’s dad for some assistance. “Honey, does he not remind you of anybody?” 
“No, should he?”
Robin couldn’t help but smile, the cluelessness somehow so charming. “I don’t know, the hair, the eyes, the nose. Even the shape of his face… nothing?”
“Who are you talking about?”
Y/N seemed genuinely confused, because she truly was. Maybe she did know on some level, but definitely not on this one.
“He looks just like Joey, honey,” her dad struggled to keep his laughter in as he spoke, trying to tone it down for her sake.
“What? No he doesn’t,” she scoffed softly, without malice anywhere within sight or sound. 
“It’s almost concerning. They could pass as siblings.”
Before she had time to retort, Luke came back into the room, and as she saw him walk in, she finally saw it. He was a slightly shorter and less muscled version of Joe, just without the lines around his mouth and the telltale tip of his nose.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, mouth falling open. 
“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked, seeing the shocked look on her face.
“Nothing, nothing. Did you get it fixed?” she asked, referring to the issue his coworker was having – and coincidentally working as the perfect distraction from her predicament.
“No, I might need to take a look at it myself."
She frowned, lips settling into a pout as she looked up at him. She didn’t want to fight or even disagree in front of her parents, so she just mumbled an ‘excuse us for a minute’ toward the four adults before scurrying back out to the hallway he’d just come from.
“You’re not seriously thinking about leaving?” she whisper-yelled, incredulousness all over her face and demeanor. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest defensively, and a step was placed between them so she’d feel more in control even with their height difference.
He sighed, running a hand down his face. “I don’t know. We’ve been working so hard on this update, and a segment that I made might screw it all up. And it’s not gonna get fixed by anyone else, that could take days.”
“You’re seriously leaving?”
“I have to.”
“No you don’t,” she scoffed, throwing her arms in the air –still mindful to keep quiet thanks to the surely prying ears.
“It’s my job, Y/N.”
“And it’s my family.”
Looking at his eyes, the ones she now saw were a slightly duller version of Joe’s, she only took a step back, nodding dejectedly. “You go back, fix your code, or whatever.”
“I’ll text you when I get home,” he sighed, a tight-lipped and forced smile on his lips. He wasn’t happy with himself, but he’d made his decision, and there was no changing it. 
Luke walked without her back to the livingroom to explain that he was leaving, Y/N was supposed to follow, but her feet seemed glued to the spot. As he passed by her again, a minute later, he kissed her cheek and mumbled a “goodbye” against her skin before disappearing out of the door.
Showing her face in front of her and Joe's parents was one of the most mortifying moments of her life. Given any other choice, she would’ve gladly and without hesitation taken it.
“You okay, Y/N?” her dad asked as she came into view again, standing up to give her a quick side hug, a simple gesture of support.
“Yeah, it just sucks. I’m glad he’s so ambitious and loves his job and all, but this is just really embarrassing. I’m really sorry,” she sighed, before looking at the Burrow’s. “You too, I mean that was not the greatest first impression, I can admit that.”
“That’s alright. He seems like a great guy,” Robin assured, as comforting as she always seemed to be. It was just easy to be calm around her for Y/N, maybe because she spent so much time around her growing up.
The rest of the night was awkward for Y/N, so she excused herself back to her childhood bedroom the first chance she got. She just spent the rest of the evening and early hours of the night thinking, Joe wouldn’t have left me here alone. And although she felt guilty for even thinking it, she knew it was true.
────────────
Waking up in her old bed, surrounded by the same polaroids and posters she hung as a teenager, nearly took her right back in time. Everything seemed so simple when she was young; she had her life all planned out.
She was going to graduate high school with Joe, get into a good college, build a career, and live somewhere in south Ohio, at least somewhat close to Athens – she could never even imagine fully leaving her hometown. So when she first got into Ohio State, she was ecstatic, even more so when Joe was too. But a few years down the line, she graduated and he went to Louisiana. 
They still kept in touch, frequently visiting each other – though Y/N made the trip down to the Bayou more often than Joe came back home just for logistical reasons. It wasn’t like the starting quarterback of a team could just up and leave out of nowhere for a weekend to see his friends. 
And when Joe was drafted by the Bengals, Y/N might’ve been happier than he was. Not just because she had always been a fan of the team alongside her family, but because she would be getting Joe back full time. 
They’d always been close, and it hadn’t changed even now, nearly two decades later.
Maybe that’s why she wasn’t that surprised when she walked downstairs in the morning to find Joe at the breakfast table with her dad, both of them drinking their morning coffee. 
“Joey?” she asked, astonished. He barely had time to set his cup down and stand up before she’d launched herself at him. “What are you doing here? You have a game this week,” she chastised, as she pulled away, lightly hitting his bicep as she let him go completely.
“Ow,” he murmured, rubbing his arm. “I drove in late last night, I needed to stop by to pick up some things from mom and dad and they mentioned you were spending the night here, too, I wanted to say hi.”
“Hi,” she grinned, making a cup of tea for herself before digging through the cupboards. 
“How are you gonna get home today, sweetie?” Y/N’s dad asked her, suddenly thinking of it. “Didn’t you drive down here together with Luke?”
Joe couldn’t help the subconscious frown that infected his pretty face the second he heard the name. 
Of course he knew of Luke, Joe had been the first person Y/N told when he first asked her out. They’d met twice or so times, and he was a decent enough guy, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to like him, and he couldn’t figure out why. 
“Yeah, I guess I’ll take the bus or something? Or I’ll ask him to come get me. We didn’t really think it through all the way.”
“He left you here?” Joe asked, his voice slightly raised as he gaped at his friend, the words only now setting in. “It’s like a two and a half hour drive.”
“Yeah, but I’ll figure something out,” she waved off, sitting down at the table with her dad and Joe, with her cup of tea in hand.
“I’m driving back home today, you can come with me instead,” he offered, which presented an easy yes, especially considering the choices.
“Great, I did not want to have to drive all the way to Cincy and back today.” Of course that was her dad's first thought.
“Like you’ve got so much to do today,” Y/N deadpanned.
“Actually, I think my new grill is deserving of all my attention, thank you very much,” he sassed, getting up with his coffee and wandering out, likely in search of his wife to ask what they should make for dinner – of course he had just eaten breakfast and was already thinking about the next few meals.
“You seriously don’t mind if I tag along, do you?” Y/N double-checked, the last thing she wanted to be was a burden.
“Are you kidding? I haven’t talked to you face to face in like two weeks – this is perfect,” he grinned. “Just be ready in–” he paused as he checked his phone for the time, “– thirty minutes. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you then?”
“I’ll come to the door like a gentleman.”
────────────
No more than 32 minutes later, just as Y/N was gathering up the few things she’d had with her and some clothes she’d had to borrow to change into, she heard a tap on her window. It sounded a bit like the birds that used to land on her windowsill and peck at the glass, so she paid it no mind. But then it happened again, and again. 
She finally got up to check what it was, opening the window – she felt a little like a disney princess as she did so. Underneath stood Joe, wrapped in a thick coat and holding something in his cupped hand. 
“Are you throwing pebbles at my window?”
“You’re late,” he shrugged, letting the small stones fall from his hand and back onto the ground.
“You could’ve knocked,” she argued.
He shook his head, pursing his lips. “Not as fun.”
“I’ll be right there, you can wait in the car,” she rolled her eyes, and closed the window. She quickly grabbed her bag and went downstairs, swinging by the kitchen to say goodbye to her parents before she left.
Of course she should’ve known better than to assume he’d actually wait inside the car, which she realized when she walked down the front porch steps and saw Joe leaning against the hood of his car on the passenger side. For once, Y/N didn’t argue back when he opened the door for her, only thanked him with a tired smile.
Clearly the simplicity of not getting into it over something so small put Joe in a good mood, because he let her control the aux for once. Usually he’d have his one playlist, that he played on repeat every single week of the year, playing through the entire drive, no matter if it was ten minutes or an hour.
Now, Y/N didn’t dislike Joe’s music taste – they had a lot of it in common – but she liked to see it as her having a wider range than him, and while Joe was the type to listen to one song over and over and over again, she wanted change. 
She also realized how calm and comfortable she was, just sitting in the car with Joe, looking out of the window while they let the quietly playing music fill the comfortable silence. It was something she was missing with Luke. Her boyfriend was great, and there was literally nothing wrong with him. But he wasn’t someone she could just be with.
“I think I might break up with Luke,” Y/N said out of nowhere, surprising even herself. For a second she could’ve sworn she felt the car swerve a bit, only to stabilize as Joe gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” he forced out, coughing as if that would make it easier for him to speak. “I– why?”
“I’m not sure.”
Joe tried not to let himself get too high or low when playing football – a good quarterback could keep his cool whenever and wherever – but then and there he did feel like stepping on the brakes harder than ever before and just sit and process her very few words. And when he realized how little she’d said, and how much he’d felt from so few words, it only made the want stronger.
“He’s a good guy,” Joe reasoned, not arguing for or against. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, really. He didn’t particularly like the guy, but that wasn’t Luke’s fault.
“Yeah, he is,” Y/N answered, sounding very tired – not physically, just emotionally drained. “I just don’t know if he’s the good guy for me.”
“Is it because of yesterday?” Joe asked, trying to gauge the situation.
“Maybe,” she pursed her lips, bringing a knee up to her chest to rest her cheek on. “I don’t know – I should know shouldn’t I?”
“Yes? I think? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I just – I should know that I want to be with him. Not think that I might want to someday down the line settle with him. I wanna know,” she nodded, sounding more assured with every syllable. “And I do also want someone who won’t leave me stranded with my parents, but to be fair, neither of us really thought that one through, so I can’t pin it all on him.”
The lightheartedness in her voice was impossible to miss, and Joe smiled just knowing that she was, even though he couldn’t see her. He needed to keep his eyes firmly on the road, because if he looked away – looked at her – he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tear his eyes back to the gray asphalt. 
“Are you sure?” Joe asked, not being able to hold it in. He needed to know it wasn’t just something she said with emotions running high, in the heat of a fight.
“Yeah. I’m not mad at him at all. We talked last night and this morning, I know he’s really sorry about yesterday. But I just don’t feel it with him. He’s great he’s just not…” she trailed off, not finding the right words, if there even were good words to use for something like that.
“I get it, you don’t have to say anything,” Joe assured, his death-grip on the wheel loosening to a more comfortable one. The worry lines on his forehead were erasing themselves with every passing moment, and it was beautiful to watch.
It’s rare to get to watch someone so closely, to study all of their features in detail, without being watched yourself. Y/N got to look at the slope of his nose, and the small bump that he’d gotten during his college-football career that he didn’t have when they were kids. As their conversation continued on to more easygoing topics, she got to see him laugh, and how his smile had changed so much yet stayed so much the same throughout the years – she still sometimes missed his smile before the veneers, though she couldn’t lie and say he didn’t look as pretty now as he did then. 
Joe had a hard time keeping from driving off the road as she kept looking at him. He might not have known just how much she was staring, but he could feel her eyes on him, and it was making him so jittery he was genuinely afraid of crashing. 
Nonetheless, they made it back to Cincinnati safe, with Joe dropping Y/N off at the curb by her apartment building. He wanted to follow her all the way up, but she insisted he’d done enough. In turn, she instead had to text him the moment she was inside, so he’d know she was safe. 
And as she hit send on that text, throwing herself down onto her worn out couch, she realized that action alone had given her more butterflies than all of her and Luke’s relationship all together. 
She realized she wanted to be treated by someone the way Joe treated her.
She wanted Joe to be that person.
────────────
It had been a week since Y/N and Luke broke up, now. And post-relationship melancholy wasn’t the predominant feeling. She was just confused.
Figuring out after years that she’d had a crush on her best friend for all that time was enough for her world to shift on its axis, and now she didn’t know what to make of it. They’d talked a little less, but still seen each other. She’d even gone to his game – which he won. But there was still some disconnect.
Joe felt the same distance, his fear of reaching out to her outweighing his want. He didn’t want to come off too strong, realizing the last time he saw her, he kept lingering as close to her as he could, and staring a little too long. He didn’t want to accidentally put their relationship in a compromised situation just ‘cause he had a shit poker face.
But, they never seemed to be able to completely stay away.
One of Joe’s favorite parts of Y/N – according to him at least – was her cat. Pippa, the ragdoll with the most striking blue eyes, rivaling Joe’s ocean blues. The two were practically inseparable, and sometimes he came over just to see her cat. It couldn’t even be disputed, as he’d use his spare key to just come hang out with her cat during off days when she was at work. Then he’d either be gone by the time she came back, along with all of the snackable fruits and veggies in her fridge, or he’d be dead asleep on her couch. There really was no inbetween.
This time, the latter was in play.
Y/N had had a difficult day at work, and had thus opted to get off earlier to cuddle with her cat. Pippa could only be described as a velcro-baby. Every time she came home or went into another room, the cat was by her feet, meowing loudly as she demanded attention.
So when she walked through the door and was left without her usual welcome committee, she immediately just assumed Joe was there – that was the only reason Pippa wouldn’t come running. Y/N exercised extra caution, taking off her shoes to quietly tiptoe to the closer to the couch to get a look over the back of it. 
She wasn’t surprised when she saw Joe splayed on his back, his chest falling and rising slowly as he slept. Pippa was curled on top of his chest, out like a light, one big stretch away from constricting his airway. 
Knowing how hard Joe worked, she just let him sleep.
Well, until she accidentally dropped a plate as she washed the dishes. It crashed onto the tile floors loudly, ceramic pieces flying every which way, making Y/N let out a quiet groan.
Joe was immediately up, if not by the sound then by Pippa running away – most likely to hide under Y/N’s bed – faster than the speed of light, and stepping on Joe’s cheek in the process. 
“What happened?” he asked, startled. The question seemed aimed at nobody, as he rubbed his eyes trying to recognize his surroundings, before his eyes fell on Y/N, frustratedly picking up shards of the plate.
“I dropped a fucking plate, that’s all,” she huffed. Harsh words, but Joe knew he wasn’t on the receiving end of her anger.
“Let me, you’ll cut yourself,” he immediately stood up, walking the few steps to the kitchen to grab the larger pieces from her, setting them down on the kitchen counter. Then, in one fell swoop, he had her by the waist and had hoisted her up onto the kitchen island, her feet and hands far away from anything perceived as dangerous to Joe. “Wait there.”
She was too tired to even complain or insist on doing it herself, instead just accepting the help for once, “Thanks,” she said meekly, thumbs rubbing at her temples. 
She didn’t miss the short look of adoration that Joe shot her, the wide blue eyes of his that scanned over her entire body. Upon realizing her own feelings, Joe’s had suddenly become very clear to her as well.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he grabbed the broom to sweep the smaller pieces. Luckily, it hadn’t shattered into a million pieces, but he still wanted to be on the safe side.
“Yeah, just a shit day at work, but it’s fine.”
“No it’s not, how can I help?” he asked, truly caring and wanting to help her, not fix, but help.
“You don’t have to do anything, I just wanted to take a nap with Pippa and maybe eat some ice cream.”
“That I can do,” he nodded, immediately setting into action as he carefully stepped over the place where the plate had broken toward the freezer, grabbing a tub for her. “I might not be able to eat it with you, but I can be emotional support.”
“That’s more than enough,” she smiled weakly, eyes fluttering closed just for a second before opening them to see Joe somehow having gotten Pippa back into his arms in the blink of an eye. He was cuddling her affectionately, scratching behind her ear as she purred, burrowing into his chest.
“I swear she loves you more than me,” she laughed softly, just taking in the scene before her. And just like Y/N had, Justin had suddenly become aware of how she looked at him when he realized how he felt about her. You can’t find something you’re not looking for, he kept reminding himself.
Maybe he hadn’t needed to look, it just came automatically to him.
“Wanna say hi to mommy?” he whispered to the cat, walking around the island to get to Y/N, hovering the cat in front of his best friend’s face. 
"Hello sweet girl.”
“It’s almost like she’s our little baby.”
“Almost,” she agreed, looking up at him through her eyelashes, all thanks to her tiredness. 
“C’mon, let's go sit down,” he gestured toward the couch, holding out a hand for her to grab as the other held the cat firmly in his grasp. She eagerly accepted, holding his warm hand the few yards to the couch where they easily settled, like they’d done so many times before.
“Did you know our moms thought we were dating in high school?” Joe suddenly asked, letting Pippa jump from his arms to Y/N’s, immediately settling on her soft stomach. 
Y/N’s eyebrows rose immediately, her face heating up just at the thought. “No, did they really?”
“Yeah, mom told me a few years ago. She was really disappointed, actually,” he laughed nervously, refusing to look her in the eye. 
“Huh, the more you know…” she shook her head, a small smile settling on her lips as she warmed to the thought. “I guess it wasn’t too far-fetched. I don’t know how many friends like us have that many sleepovers without anything ever happening.”
She turned to look at him, immediately catching his blues as he’d already been looking at her, analyzing her every reaction. “Do you ever regret not trying?”
“Trying what?” she played dumb, not wanting to god forbid be wrong about the entire thing and make a fool of herself.
“You know, us. Maybe if we’d have dated in high school we’d be engaged or married by now,” Joe theorized, shrugging a shoulder. 
“Married? Joe, we’re in our twenties,” she reminded him, slightly shaking her head. “That would be a little much. Engaged maybe, but married, no.”
“Eh, it’s something,” he laughed. “No Burrow ankle biters.”
“Fuck no, I’m not ready for that, and definitely not without a ring,” she joked. 
“I mean, we could always practice with Pippa. She’s a lot nicer than babies, to be fair, but she’s got the right size,” he joked, grabbing the cat to cradle her in his arms like a baby. It was a comical and adorable sight, seeing the fluffy creature purring contentedly between Joe’s large arms. 
“I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves,” she interrupted him softly, reaching to tickle Pippa on her fluffy tummy. “Before a baby, I need a ring. And before that, I need a boyfriend, and to get that I need to go on a date.”
“We could always just count this as our first date?” he suggested smoothly, a smirk spreading across his lips as his brain finally registered what he’d said. “I’ll cook something for you.”
“No, I want to be able to eat the food. I’ll just order something in.”
“Deal.”
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A/N: this request was *chefs kiss*, hope you liked what i came up with (i was in half delirium writing this)
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495 notes · View notes
fandomwritingbit · 4 months
Text
Sweet Girl pt.2
dad's friend William Afton x fem/virgin reader
Synop: William catches reader outside her house, he can't help but steal her away to show her something new.
Pt. 1 - here
warnings: creepy pinning lol, corruption, coercion (possibly dubcon I'm not too sure), groping, inappropriate relationship. William teaching reader things, smut (hand things Will and reader receiving).
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A/n: tis hardly proofread my apologies for any mistakes.
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To say he’s been thinking about you would be to put it lightly. Most days he sees you leaving the house headed for your work as he’s setting off for his own, he smiles at you knowingly, sometimes waving or beckoning you over, laughing when you put your head down and pretend not to notice him. It’s been nearly two weeks since the ‘incident’ in your kitchen and try as he might he just can’t get you alone. Every time he comes over to see your dad you are conveniently not there. It’s endearing to him, addictive even. It’s the chase that’s the best part, not that the catch will be too bad either. 
It crosses his mind as he rings the bell that he’s mad at your father for interrupting last time he had sweet little you to himself, but he sets the grudge aside, your dad is his way in and he needs to stay friendly. And so here he is, standing on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey to split with your dad. Fuming that the old fucker was making him wait out in the cold like some little kid on prom night, and he wasn’t even going to get his hands on you. 
Eventually your dad answers the door, quickly patting William on the back and letting him in for ‘one glass’, which definitely meant the whole damned bottle. To be fair he needed it after a long week of slaving away at his restaurant, before his sights were set on making you his little toy, the thought of a stiff drink was the only thing that got him through it. Especially when his wife and kids were at home, though that’s not a so much a concern anymore. 
~
The night, and bottle, goes fast, the two men talking and laughing together over highschool shenanigans and pessimistic comments about their respective marriages. But as his whatever-th glass comes up empty, William finds his leg bouncing with the need for a smoke, one of his many vices that has him at its beck and call. 
“You alright, fella?” Your dad asks, not sure why his friend has suddenly gone quiet and retreated in his own head. 
William’s eyes flick over to him, “Yeah, yeah.” He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants to do before settling on leaving, “Gonna take myself off home, I’m dying for a fag.” He stands as he speaks, patting his pockets to check for his keys but also the tin of cigs he needs. 
“Ah the days of smoking, before the Misses made me quit. Miss ‘em everyday.” Your dad muses, the drink making him very thoughtful about the old days. If you were there you’d no doubt have made an ‘Old days of yore’ comment through that timid smile of yours, fuck he needs to get out of here and have a wank, get his head on straight, it feels like he’s been chasing your skirt for years. 
William laughs, “No you don’t, costs me a fortune. Right, I’m going, I’ll see you.”
“Yeah, see you.” 
~
You’re in such a rush to get inside your house after a bad day at work, that you struggle to find your keys nestled deep in your bag. You manage eventually though, pulling them out before completely missing the keyhole and slamming them noisily into the door. You giggle at yourself not sure why opening this door is so hard right now when all you want is to get inside and get that kettle on, some tiredness must be catching up with you. You fumble the keys again and this time they slip from your hands, dropping loudly to the floor, the key you need getting mixed up with the rest.
Your noisiness is what makes William reemerge from the side of his house, God he could do a fucking cartwheel at the sight of you right now, his sweet treat in another little skirt. The way you squirmed under his advance last time replayed in his head, just as delicious now as it was then. He watches you from his front step across the road for a moment before he makes a decision, not entirely with his mind, that yeah, he’s going over there, you’re just too tempting. 
He whistles yoohoo at you and you flinch, whipping around to face him, your heart jumping aggressively into your throat. You’d been doing so well at avoiding him, well physically. The mental image was there more often than you’d like. It felt dirty, the way he groped you, the feeling of his cock digging into you, but you can’t stop thinking about it, especially when you’re laid in bed. He’s literally the same age as your dad, a father himself, but he does not have the bearing of a kindly paternal type. 
You make the mistake of acknowledging him, “Hey, William.” Heat rushing to your cheeks instantly and the guilty feeling in your core he always elicited arising. He can hear the tremble in your voice, it’s so tiny he could have missed it, but he watches your body language intently and you’re dripping with nerves. 
He crosses the road over to you, standing almost menacingly at the bottom of your steps. “Hello, sweetheart.” You immediately get chills at his voice, it’s like he speaks directly to your core because you want to cross your arms and press your legs together to hide from him. He continues, “Been well too long since I’ve seen you, I was starting to think you’re avoiding me.” The grin on his face is knowing and he laughs at the visible guilt on your face. 
“Oh so you have been?” He snickers, voice thick with mock hurt. “Now why would that be?” You neglect to answer, he knows exactly why, but you couldn’t answer if you wanted to not through the intense embarrassment you’re fighting through. You look over your shoulder at the front door, a sudden thought of your dad being able to hear this exchange makes you freeze, so you move away from it, stepping quietly down the stairs. Another mistake, judging by the grin that spreads across his face. 
“You worried your dad will hear something he shouldn't?” He teases. 
“No! No… I just… I should go inside.” You’re babbling, unable to meet his eyes. Yeah, you should go inside, get yourself away from this man and his glaring sexual intentions, but you don’t move. You stay right there and rub the top of your arm lost in the sensation in your lower stomach. 
“Oh don’t do that.” His eyes raked over you, taking in the way you’re almost shrinking away from him. So pretty, so fucking delicate, just being near you made his cock throb. “Things were just getting exciting last time,” He shook his head, still grinning, “I wanted to wring your dad’s neck.” You glance at him, the harshness of that sentence making your stomach flip. Last time was exciting, just remembering the shameless way his hands slipped under your skirt has your panties clinging to your heat. No one had ever been that insistent with you, that hooked on you, it’s scary. 
You bit your lip instinctively, “It wasn’t- it isn’t a good idea.” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince at this point, you know the right thing to do is to walk away, but you don’t want to. 
“I disagree.” He’s chuckling as he steps towards you, the closing distance bringing the scent of whiskey and cigarettes to your attention, along with it a pang in your core. 
“You would.” You mutter, so quiet it takes him a moment to decipher the meaning. William laughs, your cheeky comment going straight to his cock, he’s going to teach you something else exciting tonight. He reaches down to take your hand and you let him, goosebumps lining your skin when he starts leading you away from the street, and down the side of your house, out of the bounds of the lamppost light. 
“I’ve been thinking about you, about your sweet little pussy.” He enunciates the words separately, the crude language somehow making your cheeks even hotter. He’s still holding your hand as your back touches the side of the house, again all alone with this man who seemed to radiate depravity. His gaze is so intimidating that you look down, now greeted with the bulge of his trousers, you almost gasp which earns a dark snigger from him which only intensifies when you look up at him through your lashes. 
He brings his head close to yours, “See what you do to me, huh?” He leaves the question hanging before speaking with an unusual sweetness to his voice, “Touch it, sweetheart. Please.” 
Your eyes widen and you swallow, an anxiety making your frame ridgid. “I uh- I don’t-” You start, your voice tiny. 
William’s eyes narrow, deja vu flickering in his mind. “You said that last time. You don’t, what?” Suddenly his hand is on your hip, sliding up to arch your back, simply revelling in how you yield to him, a perfect toy. 
God, you almost feel faint, all you can smell is him, all you can see is him, all you can feel is him. “...I don’t… know what I’m doing.” You confess, tears springing in the corners of your eyes at the embarrassment, only making him grin more. Oh bless your heart, you’re so cute.
“That’s alright, sweet girl. I’ll show you… just…” He lifts your hand, watching your face for any sign of resistance, as he guides you to touch him, exhaling with pleasure when your hand covers him. The sound makes your stomach flutter, you like being able to do that. So you feel him more, exploring his hardness nervously as you flick your eyes from him to his bulge. The hand on your hip slides down lower, taking a handful of your arse and pulling a small whimper-like noise from your lips. That pretty sound is enough to push him over the edge, he’s pushing you firmly into the wall behind you and taking his hand off your wrist to unbuckle his belt. And that clinking noise is something that's going to haunt your thoughts for ages. 
He undoes his fly, pulling his boxers down enough to free himself, his dick pressing into your abdomen. When you again reach for him, you’re a little taken aback, he’s warm under your touch and thick, thick enough that your fingers don’t meet when you wrap them around him. You know enough from talk and the internet to know roughly what you’re doing, but it’s hard to think straight with his domineering presence in front of you. Still you begin to stroke him, gently and a little hesitant as you still haven't found your courage yet, not that you think you ever will.  
“Here,” William moves one of your hands away, bringing it up between the two of you. You watch confused, briefly thinking you’ve done something wrong. But you catch on quickly when he spits lewdly into your palm, the lack of warning making you flinch. 
“Oh.” You say in some kind of unnecessary acknowledgement, letting him guide you back to stroking him, his spit making the action dirtier, but more substantial judging by the satisfied groan you hear slightly above you. 
He’s so lost in not only the feeling but how fucking filthy it looks for his cock to be in your hands that when you mumble something in that sweet, quiet voice of yours it goes completely over his head. “Say that again, lovely.” His voice is so low and thick it causes you to shiver. 
You hardly even noticed that you spoke aloud and you struggle to get the words out a second time. “I… uh- you’re big- I think-” He grunts at that, his cock and ego throbbing. 
He chuckles, a large hand cupping under your chin, thumb resting against your bottom lip and forcing your gaze on him. “Be careful saying things like that, sweetheart.” He warns, his grip not moving as you continue stroking him, your mouth opening slightly at the weight of his words. 
This is so crazy, your body is going wild with all the signals from him, his change in breath motivating you to quicken your clumsy pace. That pressure in your core hasn’t lessened, you rubbing your thighs together to calm it doing the opposite. 
“Fuck. That’s it, love. Just like that.” He speaks through his teeth, desperately trying to keep the little control he has of himself. That glazed look in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the way you’re pressing against him is going to make him cum, He brings his head close to your neck, his breath agonising against your skin, before he starts to meet your action, thrusting into your fist in a selfish effort to reach his end. And he does, grunting the word ‘fuck’ into your neck as his cum drips from his head, staining your shirt and trickling down the back of your knuckles. You moan at the sight, you just did that.
He laughs into the crook of your neck, bringing his lips against the sensitive skin there, his stubble making you squirm. You’re still in a state of disbelief when he moves your hands away, righting himself as much as he can, because shit, his load is everywhere. He laughs again, you poor little thing. 
“God, you’re such a good girl.” Some pathetic noise escapes you at that, those words doing something to your brain, it makes him smirk, of course you like to hear how good you are. “I see your legs pressed together. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”
You don’t answer and that’s not good enough for him, so he uses his knee to press between your legs and separate them enough for his hand to slide under your skirt and trace the shape of your trembling pussy. You whimper, hands rising instinctively to push against his chest, making more of a mess with his cum. That sound is confirmation for him, “I’d bet anything you are.” It’s teasing and you can’t cope with that right now, you just feel desperate, as desperate as he was a minute ago, you need something that you don’t know how to ask for. 
You gasp when he pries under the fabric of your panties, “That okay?” You hardly register the question but nod weakly, for some strange reason you trust him. He hums as his fingers slide under the fabric immediately finding them soaked in your slick, what a sweet thing to get so turned on from wanking him off. William traces your entrance, restraining himself from finding out just how tight you are, there’d be time for that later, gathering your slick as he ghosts up to your clit. His middle finger presses firmly against your nerves, sending a jolt of electricity through you, you’re deaf to your mewls but they’re music to him. All that whining just from rubbing your clit, you’re going to sound so good when you learn what else he can do.
You hadn’t realised how tight that knot in your stomach was until he started a toe-curling pace of stroking your perfect spot. You’re so close to snapping already, wound so tight from all this that you’re gripping tightly into the muscle of his arms, to your credit it almost hurts, but he’d let you hurt him just to see how pretty your panicked frown is. And it is fucking stunning. If you’re not careful you’re going to bite through that puffy bottom lip. 
He catches your mouth in a sudden kiss that you can hardly reciprocate because you’re hanging on by a thread to your peak, desperate to reach it but a little scared at the same time. You don’t have much of a choice because when his ministrations quicken you fall apart, pussy clenching around nothing as you go through spasming waves of climax. Mascara now wet and sticking your lashes together with the tears that spring to your eyes. It’s so reality-shattering you’d fall if not from him in front of you.
“We are gonna have a lot of fun, sweetheart.”
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pt.3 - here.
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jjsbank444 · 4 months
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"I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" w/ Rafe Cameron😩
Yes yes and yes to this!! I adored writing this so I hope you enjoy just as much!!
Trope: Best Friends Brother, Angst to fluff Word Count: 1300 Warnings: None🫶🏻
Being the younger sibling with an older brother came with its many challenges.
Being the younger sibling with an older brother who had an extremely handsome, rude and spoiled best friend, came with even more.
You first became aware of Rafe Cameron when you were about three years old. Him and your brother were both five, as they met in kindergarten and somehow they stuck by each other’s side ever since.
You couldn’t fathom why your sunshine, caring and sweetheart of a brother of yours would ever want to be friends with someone like Rafe. He always seemed to be in some sort of mood, always rolling his eyes at whatever your brother (or you) had to say, he was stubborn and just plain and simple insufferable.
You also couldn’t understand how on earth you managed to gain feelings for him at the ripe age of sixteen, and why you couldn’t shake him now, even at twenty one.
Maybe it’s because against all his poor qualities, he somehow also seemed to care for you. Even though he would never admit it, you had him wrapped around your little finger.
There were many times when he picked you up from parties when you had a bit too much to drink, conveniently having a pair of comfortable shoes and a jumper ready for you, and even went to take you to get food every time, claiming that he was hungry.
He also seemed to not mind too much when your prom date cancelled on you and he offered to step in and take you instead, treating you like a queen the whole night, ‘only because he had to show that idiot how it was done’.
Most of all though, he took just as much of an interest in your dating life as your protective brother all your life. The pair of them chased boys away from you since you were a teen, having to sneak around them and failing most of the time. You had one boyfriend which lasted only a couple of weeks, due to their relentless efforts to break the two of you apart. It caused you a lot of upset at the time, and you hated to admit but in hindsight the guy was a jerk and you were glad you never got too invested into him, saving you a huge heartbreak.
What was unusual though is how much Rafe still protected you of all guys that showed an ounce of interest in you, even with your brother gone who was now attending a college out of town.
"He's an asshole okay? I see him with different girls all the time at parties." Rafe expressed as he was walking behind you, your plan to shake him not working out as he would not leave you alone to get ready for the date you were going on. You didn't even understand why he was in your house. Your brother did not currently have a break from college and although your parents always invited Rafe round, treating him like one of their own, even they were currently at work. Granted, the two of you have gotten a little closer in the last few months and it was crazy to think, but you believed that Rafe sometimes just wanted to hang out with you. With no motivation or benefit to him.
"God, Rafe. Everyone's an asshole to you. Ever thought about the phrase 'it takes one to know one'?" You groaned as you made your way to your room, plopping yourself down in front of your dresser, hoping to get some makeup on your face as you flashed Rafe a teasing grin who was now sitting behind you on your bed, still paying too much attention to your business.
"Yeah well, if that's the only way you'll believe me then I'll happily be an asshole too." Rafe scoffed as he stood up and started pacing back and forth. You tried to ignore him as you applied products on top of your skin, but your eyes kept fixating him in the mirror, distracting you from your work.
"What is your problem? I haven't been on a single date in a whole year. Can't you just let me have this one thing?" You turned around, placing your makeup brush down abruptly as your eyes shot daggers his direction.
"Good. Let's keep it that way." He nodded mumbling as he paused and turned his attention to you, brows furrowed and hands clenched, frustration visible on his features, confusion clouding your brain.
"Unless you can give me a very good reason as to why I shouldn't, I will be going on this date. And your opinion of Jake is not good enough." You crossed your arms in front of you and raised your brows, waiting to prove him wrong, slightly proud of yourself for not letting him talk you out of a date for once.
You watched as Rafe groaned and raised his palms over his eyes, his hands making his way into his hair, gripping his scalp in a way that made your face deform into discomfort, sure that the action would cause him some pain. He took a deep breath and tightly shut his eyes, yet no words were leaving his lips, allowing a victorious smile to creep to your cheeks.
"Exactly what I thought. I have to get ready, you know where the spare key is kept." You waved towards the door as you turned your body back around smugly, reaching for your products again.
"I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" Rafe blurted out, his words freezing your movements as your eyes grew unbelievably large, as you stared at him through your mirror, watching the way his chest rose and fell quickly and his eyes showed nothing but vulnerability and honesty.
"That's why you can't go on a date with him. Or anyone else. Because I'm in love with you." He mumbled as he took a step back, sitting down on the edge of your bed again, head tilted forward and dropping into his hands that he balanced on his knees, a large sigh leaving his lips as if he forgot he was holding his breath.
Your mind was blank, operating on autopilot as you once again lowered your makeup and stood up from your chair, taking small steps until you were stood in front of him. His attention was seemingly elsewhere as he was looking down, until you placed a hand on his, your movement making him jump slightly. He looked up at you and you couldn't help the way your heart clenched at the sight of him, so sincere in front of you, his attention undivided.
"Rafe, I... I had no idea." You mumbled, trying to find the right words to say but your mind was racing and your chest felt like it was so tight you couldn't breathe.
"I thought it was obvious. But I get it you're too good for me, but you're also too good for him. For anyone really. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you I just.." Rafe rambled and you watched as he internally crumbled, getting more anxious and aware of the words he spoke.
"I love you too." You blurted out, wanting to stop his spiralling, wanting nothing more than for him to know the truth you kept to yourself for the past five years.
"You do?" He stopped, hands floating mid air as he looked at you, proud and with glistening eyes full of a sparkle that you now knew to be love, making you blush but smile so wide your cheeks would hurt in a little while.
"I have for years." You admitted as you snaked your palms around his cheeks, caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs and watching as he leaned into your touch, shoulders relaxing and you couldn't keep waiting as you leaned in and connected your lips with his.
Needless to say, your date was well and truly cancelled after that, at least with Jake anyway. Instead you stayed in with Rafe, getting used to the way his lips tasted on yours and just how well your hand fit in to his, moulded together in perfection.
Current taglist: @mvybanks @jjasen @i-love-rafe @fulla02reads @leclerc16s @maybankslover @kravitzwhore @delicaties @kikixdee @dreamingwithrafe @starkeylover @mrsmaybank13 @merc12-us @notslay-norcleor @m-indkiller @princessbl0ss0m @vivian-555 @k-n-e @dreaming-of-the-reality @inky-sun @camelliaflow3r @ifilwtmfc @illmindedyetfamiliar @bookishnerd1132 @lucky7rosie @abbybarnesstufff @fallingwallsh @bjrmaybank @bibliophilewednesday @pank0w @augustlikesdeath @h34rtsformilli @rafecameronzwhore @stvrligghtt @minispice-1 @ironmaiden1313 @simp4f1 @davidshawswife @bjrmaybank @sickyrat @lea0518 @bellblake
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heartilywrites · 5 months
Text
♡ — Love like you ; H. Callahan
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cw: IGHT, THIS IS A MINORS DNI !! cheating, some angst, but I didn't went straight to it-, cheerleader!reader, fluff, a moment of josabel because I love them, it gets +18 after the bold letters [fingering, top!Hazel, public sex]
word count: 2.9k
a/n: this is the beginning of my cheerleader!reader x loser!hazel brainrot. it wasn't suppose to end up with smut but I got carried away with the ~feels~. hope you enjoy!
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“ 𝓣he sound of you calling for my name, I want to hear it. ”
Hazel felt miserable, she felt like the whole world lost its meaning as soon as you walked away.
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‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You. . . You're breaking up with me?” your voice whispered, with tears accumulating on your eyes and your hands slowly back down from her face.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I am so sorry, I really am.” she continued to say after that, your whole body moved away from the girl and that made her heart break even more. “I just don't like the idea of people judging you for being with me.”
Your frown turned from confused to angry. “Is someone saying anything to you?” A couple of football players, she thought quickly, but instead of saying it, she shook her head. “I don't get it then, I– you–” no coherent words came out of you.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry.” was the last thing you heard before standing from the bench and walk away with your heart in your hands and the flowers that you were going to give her to match on prom in your bag.
Hazel wasn't really one to think about what people said about her, but it did got to her how the football players were teasing or making fun of you. She loved you as much as you loved her, she was aware of that, so it hurt three times more when she saw you on halls after that and you ignored her.
Eye bags badly covered with concealer, your nose and eyes was red almost everyday and Isabel never left your side while Brittany was getting your stuff. She felt horrible looking how much she hurt you, but she was as bad as you were and you knew that, you've been watching her.
On the cafeteria, playing with your food while Isabel told you that you should eat something, your eyes were static on Hazel's silhouette as you were doing for weeks now, but she didn't notice that. Isabel followed your gaze when she saw you distracted, she sighed.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You should move on from her, darling.” you heard snapping back, turning to your friend when Hazel turned to you without giving her the satisfaction of seeing your gaze on her.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm trying, I don’t know what else to do. . .” your voice sounded weak, Isabel hugged you before you started to cry.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's okay, maybe we can—” a male voice calling for you interrupted your talk, both of you turned to said voice.
A football player was standing infront of your table with a bouquet of flowers on his hands and a sweet smile on his face, you tried to smiled back at him. “Hey, Kev, can I help you?”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You know, I was just thinking. You're a girl, a cheerleader, I'm a boy, a player, and I also like you. . . I wanted to know if you want to go out with me. Tonight.” he explained, you blinked surprised at the sudden confession while he extended the flowers your way.
A quick look was shot to Hazel's way and you could see her take her things and starting to walk away, so you turned to the boy and faked a smile. “I would love to!” you exclaimed loud enough, seeing how your ex stopped for a second on place. She didn't look back to you or her friends, a second later, she walked faster away.
And after that you and. . . Oh, yeah, Kevin, you and Kevin started dating. It really wasn't that good of a relationship, but it did help you to get your head out of Hazel.
He showered you in gifts, most of them being papers with simple 'I love you' or a single rose and you thought about those gifts Hazel would get you; your favorite candies, a funny card she bought at a store that reminded her of you, something significant for the both of you, hand-made hearts she did in classes where you weren't with her. . . All of those gift you still have on a box in home, the same gifts you looked at when you arrived home after going out with your new boyfriend and smiled at them with nostalgia.
Maybe you didn't really moved on from her and that was what scared you a bit, she was always present in the back of your mind and you just wanted for it to stop, knowing it wasn't really healthy. You wanted to move on from her, but you were sure she was your great love.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And that's how I saved the game.” your boyfriend finished the story while you zoned out with your face in one hand.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's great, babe, you're a hero.” an automated response came from your way, the bell finally rang and you started to collect your things.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍��� “Oh, I'll take it.” he said moving his hand to your backpack and you smiled at him, shaking your head.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's okay, Kev, I got it.” you said, “I just need to go to the ladies room before chemistry, alright?” before he could answer you gave him a kiss on the lips and walked with hurry to the bathroom.
When opening the door your eyes met those green ones that you missed so much, both of you froze in spot.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey. . .” Hazel whispered like she was running out of air. You smiled a bit and waved. “You, uh, you look great. . .”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Thanks.” you said back at her. “You too.”
A small thank you left her mouth. Another silence, “Listen, uh, I'm really sorry how things ended–”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's okay, Hazel. . .” her name fell from your lips like butter and she almost melt to the sound of it. “I guess we're better now.”
She nodded a bit, with a tiny pout on her lips. “O–Okay, I. . . I have to go to class.” she said making her way to you, you nodded too and made space for her to go through.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hope to see you at prom.” you said, she smiled at you and you slipped in to the bathroom.
Hazel was not going at prom at first. She didn't want to see how the love of her life was dancing, smiling and having fun with some douche while she was sitting on a table with her friends. But that was until she got to her locker and a plastic box fell from it, she changed her mind.
“ I bought it for you a month ago and if you're going it needs to be with style, maybe you'll conquer a girl's heart like you did with mine. ” and your name as a signature. She had to go now.
Asking for money from her mom to buy a last minute suit and going from mall to mall was what Hazel's afternoon consisted. She dragged Josie and PJ with her to help her get a cute one, one that you may like and Josie knew from a very confidential and trustworthy source —ahem, Isabel— which color you picked for your dress, so they based that for her suit.
Prom night came along and everyone was arriving at the gym. You arrived with your friends instead of your boyfriend, who was arriving with the team.
A beautiful long dark green dress with a opening on your left leg was your outfit that night, along with high heels and on your wrist two flowers: the one that your boyfriend got you that was in a red color and the one you got for Hazel and you in a white color.
The night was pretty calm while you where there, you danced with your friends and one slow song with your boyfriend and it was already two hours in.
Hazel arrived a bit late, nervous for that night, but as soon as she saw you dance with Brittany, all her worries disappeared.
She went to sit with her friends when she got to distinguish them and was received with a bunch of whistles and claps.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, Hazel, coming to get some tonight!” PJ laughed when her friend made a turn on herself and the comment made her blush. “Go get your girl, dude, she's been looking at us all night waiting for you.”
Hazel shook her head nervous again, Josie stood up and took her by the arm. “Let's go, Romeo.” she said while dragging her to the dance floor.
You were dancing your heart out with Isabel, laughing a bit when you saw how Brittany started to dance with someone else and made kissing noises to her, she clearly just flipped you.
When Josie arrived you greet at her with a smile, expression that widened when your eyes locked with Hazel's.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hello, ladies; I came to take my girlfriend so we can dance a bit and in exchange I got you a dance partner.” Josie said pointing to Hazel, she waved awkwardly. The girl took her girlfriend's hand and started to make her way to the center of the dance floor.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey!” you screamed a bit because of the music, she smiled big and greeted back. “You look pretty!”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You look so gorgeous.” she said, that comment made you blush and laugh a bit. Conveniently, a slow song started to play and both of you blinked surprised. “Do you. . . want to dance?”
You nodded while smiling. At the DJ set-up, Josie asked him to play the most romantic and slow song he had on the playlist. “Oh, you did this for them, didn't you?” Isabel asked acknowledging her plan.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Kinda, I did it for us too, we haven't slow danced in the night and I think that should be illegal.” Josie responded, getting a laugh from her girlfriend before she rested her arms on her shoulders.
Just as you did with Hazel, you knew your boyfriend was doing something stupid outside so you didn't care about it. Her hands hugged your waist cautiously and you swore that contact almost made you fall.
Neither of you broke the eye contact from each other, feeling as if it was only the two of you in the dance floor.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I've missed you.” the girl infront of you started to talk, your brows rose. “You have no idea how much I've missed you.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I've missed you too. . .” you whispered, getting closer to her, smiling with tenderness. “You, your kisses, your hands, your words. . .” both faces were dangerously close.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm really sorry, I shouldn't break things up, you're the best I have.” that was all you needed to hear before making your lips meet hers.
Both mouths moving with such synchronization, you knew how well you both worked together and that made you know how bad a decision was to leave each other.
The kiss turned from sweet and tender to desperate and passional, your hands tangled in her hair and her tongue asked for access to your mouth, before you could let her she stopped the gesture making you follow her head for her lips again.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We. . . Let's go.” Hazel took your wrist and started to make her way, you following closer.
Even though it wasn't the most creative of places, Hazel got both of you in the bathroom. Making sure it was empty, she attacked your lips again, fully asking for access to your mouth at the beginning, action that you granted and followed.
She walked backwards without stopping the action and got into a stall, closing the door after you and pushing you against it, locking you between her arm while the other was on your waist.
Soft moans vibrated on your throat and drowned against the girl's mouth while your hands pull her closer asking for her body to be on yours and your left leg rose a bit to her side to have Hazel between you. When she pushed away for air, your mouth was quick to make her way through her jaw and neck, getting to a weak spot and hearing her moan, you smiled with satisfaction. Your lips attended that area and made a hickey, in your most foggy thinking and still wanting to claim her.
Hazel took your face in her free hand to make you look at her with a mischievous smile.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You missed me that much, huh?” she said hoarsely and you bit your bottom lip while nodding.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I told you, I missed your hands.” you responded seductively. “Did you miss me?”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Honey, every night.” she answered, attacking your lips once again. The hand she had on your waist started to make her way under your dress and playing with your underwear.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hazel~” your voice called needy for your ex. “Please, baby, I've missed you.” your hips moved a bit while you made a pouty face. “You owe me.”
She laughed for a moment, before making her nose touch yours. “But have you been good? Has he not attended my pretty girl how she deserves while I was gone?” she asked against your lips.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “He doesn't know how, I'm tired of him.” you growled with a disgusted face, switching to pout again. Hazel laughed again. “Make me feel good, my love.” a plead came from you, your hand resting on her the arm playing with your sanity.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My baby is needy of me, huh?” before you could answer to her question, her hand rubbed against you and you let out a moan. “Call my name, I want to hear you.”
You said as demanded, her name falling from your mouth with a moan and Hazel was delighted at that sound, the one she missed to hear from you while asking her for more while you were underneath her body.
With such agile one of her digits began to enter you slowly, your mouth opened at the feeling of her.
When she was about to speak, the door to the bathroom opened, both of you froze with eyes widened. The sound of two girls talking filled the room while they were doing their make-up.
You look at Hazel and notice a malicious smile on her, your head was shaking and before you could stop her another finger was inside you and the hand she had beside you was now on your mouth to muffled any sound.
You felt your heartbeat raise as soon as Hazel's fingers began to move inside you. You did tried to not moan loudly, pressing the hand on your mouth with one of your own so your sounds wouldn't be as loud.
Her pace fastened and your eyes closed when a third digits was added, her thumb looked to satisfy your clit with circle caressings.
For what you felt an eternity, the girls walked back out while laughing about some joke one of them told and you moved Hazel's hand from your mouth. “You're a bitch.” you moaned and Hazel's brows raised with fun.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's not nice, hun.” she laughed, in a fast move she made you face the door and began to take back her pace in you, with her free hand she tugged your hair away from your shoulder and leave a kiss there while you throw your head back. “You love it.”
Her free hand took care of your breast, giving it squeezes and her mouth left wet kisses on your neck.
You felt overwhelmed by all the attention given, your abdomen felt tight, giving you an alert that you were so near.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hazel, baby.” you called again, she knew exactly what was about to happen, so her pace speeded one more time making you melt into moans and irregular breaths.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Do it, darling, come for me. I want to hear you.”
And one moment after, you cried out as you reached your climax. Your forehead rested against the door, feeling a little bit lightheaded, Hazel came out of you and turned you around. Now the kiss she left was sweet and she smiled with such innocence that made you laugh.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, god, I hope you brought more make–up.” she said with her eyes a bit widen.
Making sure no one was there you both left the stall and your jaw dropped at your own image in the mirror. “Hazel, what the fuck!”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You loved it, don't lie.” she said after washing her hands and hugging you from behind while you where removing the lipstick and mascara ruined on your face. “You look gorgeous; with make-up, without make-up, all fucked up by me.”
You laughed loudly at that and once you finished cleaning your face you turned around to face her. “My place? No one's home and you still owe me, darling.”
Nodding with a big smile, both of you were quick to get out of the dance without saying goodbye to anyone and taking Hazel's car as you took Isabel's.
Later you were going to text. . . Yeah! Kevin! To tell him that you were over, but as in for right now, Hazel and you needed to get up-to-date about a bunch of stuff.
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alltoolewis · 8 months
Text
Timeless- Mason Mount
I'm finally off for the summer & finally back writing! This one is super special and is inspired by timeless by Taylor swift, if you haven't heard the vault track please listen to it while reading this! This has to be one of my favourite things I have ever wrote... Hope you all enjoy & I can't wait to write more! Hope this apologies for my absence Love you guys x
P.S I will not comment on him leaving to united btw... as Liverpool fan I am devasted 😒
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Summary- When you and Mason are cleaning your nan's attic you discover a book of your grandparents love story... helping Mason think of the perfect anniversary present for you...
Words- 2.6k
"Mase please.." you squealed as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking you by surprise as you continued to search through the old dusty boxes "This really needs doing and I never would of agreed to let you help if I knew you'd be messing around like this!" You didn't realise that agreeing to clean you nan's old attic would result in your clingy boyfriend of almost 5 years joining you. What was suppose to be a solo task, turned into a duo one the minute his brown eyes grew wide at your claim that you were leaving him for a couple of hours alone.
"I didn't know showing my beautiful girlfriend of 5 years love was classed as messing around..." he pouted, loosening his grip of you but of course not fully as his arm still hovered your waist. "It's not 5 years yet loser" You smirked, throwing something you believed was an old sock that was hiding in the box at him "We're still 3 weeks of that title!"  You still couldn't believe that it had already been that long. It felt like just yesterday that he caught your attention in the dimmed lightened room, his laugh being the loudest noise as the speakers blaring out the music you had always hated silenced, allowing you to hear what has since been your favourite sound. Since that night you had been by each others side, through the ups and downs, the spot next to him was always yours and vice versa... there was no Mason without (y/n) and he prayed there'd never have to be!
Silence filled the room once more, however the smiles never faded as you sorted through all your nans precious things. Growing up you never thought of your nan as a hoarder, her house was also tidy barely anything on display except the odd pictures of core memories but little did she know that she kept the purest things locked up here. From her old ballet shoes to her old school books, her old prom dress to a rock she found on her secret dates with your late grandfather... she kept everything.
"What's this?" Mason asked curiously, lifting up a book covered in dust and cobwebs. Being nosy of his new finding, you quickly went to where he was sitting next to him on the old fragile footstool, floor creaking as you did so. Your eyes hovered over the brown book in his hands, that it was safe to say that  time has took its toll on. Crouching down in front of him, your hand swept across the front cover, tears immediately filling your eyes as you read the words...
'THE STORY OF ANNIE & JOHN'
The words were followed by a photo of them together, smiles brighter than the stars as the look of love was written in there eyes. You had already heard the story of your grandparents many times from your nan... but seeing it in hidden pictures made your whole world freeze.
Noticing the sudden emotion in your face, Mason sighed "You okay, darling?" wiping away the fallen tears as they fell down your cheek, letting his hand hover there as a guard. Nodding, you gulped "Yeah... yeah I'm good.." Smiling he patted his knee, silencing telling you to come over which of course you obeyed. 
Now the book was on your knee as Mase held you tightly on his lap, head leaning over your shoulder as he traced comforting shapes on your arm. "Are you going to have a look honey?" He could see your clear hesitation to open it, as your hands strummed over the outskirts of the pages. Apart of you wanted to open the book, see the love of your grandparents everybody talked so dearly about, the love that was always compared to yours and Masons, however the other part of you couldn't help but think you were invading the privacy... you knew there story like the back of your hand. A secret romance that was forbidden by there families, your grandmother being in a privileged family who had a tradition to pick other privileged people for there children to fall in love with. While your grandad was the son of the maid, 2 years older than her but fell head over the heels the second he caught eyes with in his word 'a princess' They hidden what they had for years, scared that there families would tear them apart... but faith took its role and 12 years later they were happily married as a runaway couple, ready to start there new lives together.
As your mind wondered away, you felt his hand lace over yours, squeezing it tightly "It's okay (y/nn)? She would want you to see this??" You knew he was right... she'd be screaming for you to open it if she was there. Listening to him, you squeezed his hand back before opening it up. 
The pages looked just as battered as the front cover, but the love was still clear as rain. The book had different chapters, just like a fairy tale. It began with there first year, where your pop's mum first got the job and he was allowed to be involved in the staff picture where your grandmother stood just 5 people away. 
"I didn't know your grandad was in the war.." Mason whispered, scared to ruin the moment as you were flicking through there years together. It was there 7th year 'together'... the year your dad got drafted to fight in the war. "He didn't want to go" You mumbled back, hand touching the envelopes your nan had clearly stuck in the book "He wanted to stay with her although no one knew about them... he wrote her love letters, signed them off as Dave so no one knew it was from him"
"Didn't she call him Dave all the time..." Mason chuckled, squeezing your hip gently. He only had a few years with your nan, while with your pops he only had 1 short one & for the longest time he was convinced he was called 'Dave' "Yep!" You giggled back "Even after all those years together she still called him it. It was there secret code word..."
For the next couple of hours you flipped through the rest of the book, pausing to read the letters, see the small details of the grainy images. From there wedding to the birth of your mum, from the day they ran away together to the day your grandad came back to find your nan had been set up to marry someone else... it had all be recorded in the book.
Your heart broke when you flipped to the last filled page in the book, your grandads order of service leaflet from his funeral. Your heart broke even more when it came clear that your nan had placed it in by herself... ending there story together...
Noticing the tears falling faster down your face, Mason closed the book placing it gently down as he wrapped his arms tighter than ever around you, allowing you to sob in his chest. He didn't say much as you cried, just rubbed your back and whispered a few words of comfort, knowing what you needed most was time to absorb what you just saw.
Once you calmed down, you lifted your head back up to look at his warm brown eyes, his hand instantly going to your cheek "They we're amazing (y/n).." He smiled, causing you to mirror it back "They would been so happy you got to witness it through there eyes..."
"They were timeless..." You breathed out, looking down to the book on the floor that was bound to come home with the two of you.
"Just like we will be.."
Your head shot up to look at him with blood shot eyes "You think?"
"Oh I know we will!" He smiled, causing you to cuddle deeper into him "I hope so Mase..."
---------------
3 weeks later.....
"Mase stop!" You laughed as he picked you as you went to put the key in your new shared home in manchester  "Please stop we need to get in before it rains... stop messing around!"
"I didn't know showing my girlfriend of 5 years of affection was classed as messing around..." He sulked as your laugh continued to echo around the house, taking the heels that had killed your feet all night "and before you start I can call you that now!!"
"I know..." You smiled, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, one of many that day "and I couldn't be prouder to now say it.." Mason returned the kiss as he muttered I love you, which of course you mumbled back. Somehow you two ended up in your bedroom, his jacket through on the floor as the zipper on your dress began to be pulled down.
Just as it was about to get even more heated, he pulled back causing you to sigh dramatically. "Don't be dramatic lovie, we have all night to do that.." He laughed, dragging you to the end of the bed "But first I want to give you your final present of the night.."
"but mase you've already given me loads today.." You groaned, hating how much he had already spoiled you today. Giving you far to many presents, making you bed in breakfast and then taking you to the fanciest restaurant in Manchester. You honestly didn't know how he'd make the day even better before he pulled out a box placing it gently on your knee... "Now this one is kind of for the both of us..." He smiled wrapping his arm around you "But I think you'll appreciate it.."
Carefully, you untied the little red bow on the box lifting the box up with the expectation of finding more personalised jewellery. However your heart dropped to the floor as you saw something you'd never thought you'd see...
A book... Similar to the one of your grandparents but instead of there names it read...
'THE STORY OF (Y/N) & MASON'
And just like the other one, a picture displayed below it. One of you and him at the champions league final, your smiles brighter than stars and the same look of love they had.
"Oh my god M-Mase..." You speechlessly gasped, covering your mouth as tears escaped your eyes "I c-can't believe it.."
His eyes mirrored yours with tears as he placed his hand on top of yours "Open it darling.." He whispered, voice full of love "Don't be scared to read this one... it's ours only"
Listening to him like always, you opened the book, smile immediately spreading across your face as you flipped through to see the many filled pages of your story so far.  The first day you met at that party, the first selfie you took together, your first chelsea game, the day you moved together... every memory shared together was captured in perfect unison to the orginal.
"I didn't even know this exsisted!" You laughed messily, as you looked at the picture of you drunkenly asleep on Mason's lap at his Chelsea leaving party. You couldn't remember much of that day, other than you drunk the night away in hope that it took the sting away from living the beloved club and city... 
"Ben took..." Mason smirked "He sent it me the next day along with the video of you doing my celebration on top of the table..."  "Please say that's a joke.." You muttered as you hid your head in embarrassment, hoping that he  was lying..
"Nope!" He chuckled "I'll show you that later darling, first you have to finish this book!"
So you did. There wasn't much after that, other than his first day at united and your new home in Manchester... little did you know there was one final page to your story you were yet to experience...
"What's this?" You questioned as you flipped the page to see a brown envelope stuck to the page, similar to love letters your grandad use to write. Unable to say much, Mason whispered "Open it and see..."
With shaking hands you pulled out letter which was folded in half, his scruffy handwriting evident. You shot him one last look, nervousness written all over his face as you began to read the love letter addressed to only you....
My dear (y/n),
I've never been good at doing speeches or expressing how I feel, but with you by my side I feel as though I can do anything, so here I am... Ever since I saw you my whole world changed for the better. You fixed the hole in my life like a puzzle piece and ever since then I knew I'd never want to lose you.
The other week when I held you in your nan's attic made me think of if we met in another life, would be the same as we are right now... and the truth is sweetheart we would of have! Even if we met on a crowded street in the 40's or if I was sent to war and you were forced to marry another man... my head would of still turned for you just like it did at that party...
you still would have been mine, I'd of make sure of it!
I'm going to love you for the rest of our lives, till we have grey hair, mini mounts running around the place, a cardboard box stored of memories we made, we'll have it all! 
Our story starts now Angel... 
we're going to be timeless...
look forward...
Mase x
Tears poured down your face as you followed the letters instructions, showing him down on one knee, a small box with the most gorgeous diamond ring displayed in it, one that coincidently resembled the one your nan had...
"Mase..."
"(y/n)... will you please make me the happies man alive & spend the rest of your life with me??"
Unable to speak you nodded your head, falling to your knees as you wrapped your arms around him. "I love you so much.." You sobbed into his neck.
"I love you so much more..." He cried back, pulling back from you for a brief second to slip the gorgeous ring on your finger "This is your nans ring" He smiled "I asked your parents if it was okay if I gave it you... I want us to be a timeless classic like your grandparents, I want to fill that book up with you till the day we are torn apart by fate..."
Once more you were speechless as his arm wrapped around you, your head lay on his chest listening to the heart which had loved you for 5 years... there was no (y/n) without Mason and you prayed every minute of the day that you'd be the couple your grandparents were. A love so strong it could be seen from miles away, a love everyone dreamed of but only a rare few could experience... one that even time couldn't forget... Your going to be... 
TIMELESS
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dorotheataylor · 1 month
Text
Lover
Pairing- Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader
Summary- Listen to Lover by Taylor Swift
Warnings- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFF, established relationship, really really small adult talk, this is really cliché, no curses!au, modern!au, my poor english, reader and satoru are so in love :( (i wanna cry) Based on Lover by Taylor Swift <3
Word Count- 2.7k words (excluding lyrics)
A/N- The amount of love I have for this man is insane. Gege when I catch you Gege!! Anyways this is something I imagine everyday with this man and decided why not share this with y’all? Hope y’all like this!
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"Good morning Toru," you said in a sleepy voice as you rubbed your eyes.
Satoru smiled and said, "Good morning, my love," placing the coffee mugs on the nightstand nearby and leaning down to kiss you. You kissed him back for a moment but then immediately pulled away.
He looked at you with a frown and you spoke, "you know I have a very bad breath in the morning."
His frown suddenly turned into the grin you adored so much. "And you know that I don't care," he said before leaning down once more and kissing you. And this time you didn't resist.
You snuggled up into him to cuddle. He wrapped his hands around you as he laid beside you.
We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘till January
This is our place, we make the rules
"Happy new year," you beamed before moving even closer (if possible) to him. His body was warm- the body heat you’d always miss when you woke up in bed without him engulfing you.
"Well there's still some couple of hours left," he chuckled before kissing your forehead, "but happy new year."
Although the Christmas tree was gone by now- from the holiday a week ago- multiple strings of Christmas lights remained hung up on the living room walls. Turned off, the fluorescent lights were more gloomy than cheerful due to the festivities being over.
It being the first Christmas with Satoru in the new apartment, the one you both collectively bought together just over six months ago, the holiday was a milestone for your relationship. Decorating the small apartment was fun, placing ornaments carefully on the tree with Satoru while he broke over half of them; accidentally of course.
And now the lights remained, hung up on the walls of the open living room. While you took the first sip of the coffee- the caffeine sliding down your throat and almost scorching your tongue- it was as if Satoru read your mind.
“The Christmas lights are still up, we forgot about them.” There had always been a mysterious way about him, always seeming to know what you were thinking or feeling at any given time.
You'd heard of him in your university days. The uni heartthrob, star basketball player and the guy of every girl's dreams studying with you. Your friend would go on about him every now and then until she found her 'the one' as she called it.
You had to admit that you'd grown a crush on him too but you were too scared. He was the popular guy every girl swooned over, and then there was you, just managing to get through the uni. You doubted if he even knew about your existence. So you never worked on your feelings and just continued the way you lived.
The first time you officially met and talked with him was on the annual prom night. You were sitting alone, trying to get a shot as you watched everyone, including your best friend, dance on the slow song playing in the background.
You'd come there without a date as no one had asked you. You were slightly upset but your friend cheered you up, ditching her own boyfriend to go with you. But after a few hours of having fun, she wanted to spend time with him and of course you didn't mind.
So here you were, deep in thoughts and didn't notice someone coming up to you until the person spoke.
"Hey."
You immediately knew who's voice it was. You turned your head to look at them. And there he stood, dressed up in a black tuxedo, his white hair perfectly styled and faint blush on his cheeks as he showed his smile. Your heart started to pick up its pace as your cheeks heated up. Why would they not? Satoru Gojo, the popular guy of the whole campus and your long time crush, was talking to you.
"Hey," you replied, surprised and internally relieved you didn't stutter.
"Mind if I join you?" he said gesturing over the empty seat besides you.
"Not at all." You said and handed him a drink as he took the seat.
You were surprised, that 'The Gojo Satoru' would be so sweet and awkward at the same time. Still you two talked and got to know each other. Apparently, his date ditched him when he refused for PDA, and he claimed to enjoy your company more.
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
He almost got shy when he asked you for a dance. But you still accepted nevertheless. And let's just say it was the best time of your life. Neither of you two knew how to dance and all the time you were just stepping on each other's foot or just laughing your asses off. You knew you'd just met him but it felt like you'd known him for years.
The night ended with him asking you out. You gladly accepted. And with that, started a beautiful love story one could only ask for.
“I think we should leave them up,” a quizzing look you gave him with your eyebrows prompted him to explain, “you know, ‘cause why not? We’re adults, we don’t have to listen to any rules anymore, right?”
You laughed. “I guess I see your point... but it’s already New Year’s Day, and Christmas was a week ago. If others come around, what will they say?”
"Who cares, this is our place. Meaning," he held you tighter and continued, "we make the rules here. We could live it 'til the next January."
"You're crazy, Gojo." You said playfully and he rolled his eyes.
"Well sorry to break it to you sweetheart but you're stuck with me," he said with a little smirk.
"Wouldn't have it another way." You said giggling and giving him a quick peck on lips before getting out of the bed. As you were about to leave, he held your wrist and pulled you back. You landed back on the bed as he held you tightly once again.
"Let's just stay like this for the whole day." He said as he closed his eyes.
You giggled, "’Toru, if you don't let me go then we won't be getting any breakfast today."
"I don't care." He said as he buried his face in your chest, "you're warm and I want cuddles." You laughed at his childish behaviour and cuddled back with him. You slowly ran your fingers in his hair just the way he liked. He groaned at the feeling and hugged you even tighter.
There was a comfortable and peaceful silence until he said, "by the way I already made us breakfast."
You widened your eyes when you heard him. "Really? I'm surprised the house is not on fire yet."
He sat up and rolled his eyes. "You know I'm a better cook than you."
You hit him playfully on his chest as he laughed. He got out of the bed and went into the kitchen and you went to the bathroom and quickly brushed your teeth, excited to see what he had prepared for both of you.
He came back with two plates of honey-drizzled pancakes. You were sitting on the bed by then and your mouth immediately started watering after seeing the pancakes.
"Tell me how it is." He said after putting down the plates. You took a bite before widening your eyes and looking at him proudly.
"I see you've gotten my recipe perfectly." You said wiggling your eyebrows making him chuckle.
He chuckled, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "I wanted to do something different this time. You're always the one making breakfast, so I thought I'd give it a try and show you that I can make your recipes too. Consider it my New Year's resolution. Plus I know how much you hate to get out of the bed in the morning, so breakfast is now my duty."
Your heart melted at his thoughtful gesture. He had gone out of his way to make you happy, to bring a change to their routine. It was a small act, but it spoke volumes about his love and dedication. You couldn't help but fall in love with him even more if possible.
Moved by his sincerity, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, feeling the warmth of his embrace. In that moment, your connection deepened, your love reaffirmed. Your lips gently parted, and your foreheads touched as you locked eyes, sharing an unspoken language of love and understanding.
You’re my my my my Lover.
"You don't have to do anything special to make me happy." You whispered, "as long as you're with me, I'm content."
A smile graced his lips, and he spoke softly, "I love you."
"I love you too. More than words can express." You said before attaching your lips with his once again.
-
"Cheers to the New Year!" echoed throughout the room as everyone joyously raised their glasses and took hearty sips of their drinks. The lively party was in full swing, with conversations overlapping and laughter filling the air. To your right, was a group engaged in a spirited drinking game, while in a quieter corner, a few couples were making out while Satoru and Suguru shared jokes and laughter near the balcony, relishing their drinks.
I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
You tried to focus on the conversation you were having with your friends but failed miserably. All you could see was the unfamiliar girl who was now flirting with Satoru. He looked like he had no clue about it. Beside him, was his friend Suguru. Unlike your boyfriend, he noticed the dirty glances you were throwing at the girl.
You see him nudge Satoru with his elbow and point your way. Your eyes met his blue ones for a moment when you instantly looked away. You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous but god you couldn’t help it.
I’ve loved you three summer now honey but I want ‘em all
He was so gorgeous with his soft white hair and cold blue eyes that any girl would fall for him. But those cold eyes only showed warmth and love when they looked at you. You were the only one Satoru loved and will continue to do so till the end of time.
You looked at him again only to see him smirk. Can’t able to bear the sight of it, you decided to take matters into your own hands.
You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to where Satoru was standing. “Darling, It’s getting late. We should head home.” You said in a saccharine voice with a forced smile. Not waiting for his reply, you pulled him by his arm. The last thing you heard before exiting the venue was some words of 'good luck' directed towards Satoru by Suguru.
When you got into the car, you immediately turned towards the windows, not in the mood to talk. Satoru got inside and smiled at your behaviour.
When you got home, you both had to run inside because it had started raining. You immediately went to the bathroom to get dressed for bed, without sparing Satoru a look. After you were done, you laid on your bed and pretended to fall asleep.
Satoru, very well knowing that you were awake, gave your shoulder a nudge. “Y/N?”
"Go away, I'm trying to sleep."
“I highly doubt that. Is it something I said?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“Well, I wasn’t the one who was totally oblivious to a girl hitting on me when my girlfriend stood just a few steps away.” You scoffed as you sat up.
“You can’t be serious.” He chuckled.
“Of course, I am.”
“Baby, look at me.” He said. When you didn’t listen to him, he cupped your face and made you look at him. He looked straight into your eyes and said, “You know you’re the only one for me, right? You’re the one who I’m deeply in love with.”
When you didn't say anything, he sighed and stood up. "Come with me." He said giving you his hand.
I take this magnetic force of a man to be my Loverr
You looked at him confused but took it nevertheless. "Why are we going outside? It's raining." You said when you noticed you were being led outside the house.
Satoru knew how much you loved the rain. That’s why if he was going to do this, he’ll do this with the things you loved.
You were still trying to comprehend as to why you were in the rain but you didn’t complain. You loved rain. It helped you calm down and helped relaxing your mind.
Satoru led you in your small house garden. You had already started getting soaked from the rain as you asked, “Why are we here?”
And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
“Why? Getting wet already?” he said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. He smiled at you. He swore his heart swells every time he hears you laugh or sees you smile, especially when he is the reason behind it.
“Let’s dance.” He said and spun you around. You laughed when he pulled you towards him and tried to waltz.
“You’re still a terrible dancer.” You said jokingly.
“Well you’re the only one who gets to dance with me so I suggest you get used to it.” He said, trying his best not to mess up the steps.
“Did you learn the basics of waltzing?” you asked when you saw him doing correct steps.
“Well, I know you love to dance and I’m a terrible dancer. So I tried learning just so you can have, not excellent but at least an average dance partner.” He said, scratching his neck sheepishly.
And at every table, I’ll save you a seat Loverr
You didn’t know that you could fall for him even more. He learned to dance, just for you. He knew you loved to dance so he tried to become better at it, just for you. You knew how hectic his schedule can get but still he took some time off it to learn how to dance, just for you. You loved this man so much and you’ll never get tired of admitting this.
Can I go where you go?
“There’s still something I need to do.” He said, now sounding somewhat nervous.
You raised an eyebrow and looked at him in suspicion, “what is it?”
You didn’t want to think the worse but with the way he was behaving, you couldn’t help it. Is this it? Is he going to break things off? You didn’t know how you will survive if your thoughts came true.
Can we always be this close?
He took a deep breath before reaching for his pocket and taking out a small box. He bent down on his knees and held open the box in front of you. You widened your eyes at sight before you and gasped when you realised what was happening.
“Y/N, I never knew I could love someone as much as I love you. You’re the ride and die for me, the one who is everything to me, the one who’s laugh and smiles makes my day, the one who’s tears break my heart, the one who will always own my heart. And I can’t believe that you love an idiot like me. I want you to be the first and only love for me. I want you to be the one who lights up my day with just a smile, who makes my nights beautiful with just a touch.”
Forever and ever and Ah
“I want to be the one for you who you’ll spend forever with just like you have always dreamed of. I don’t want to spend another minute without you being by my side.”
You’re my my my my
“So Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” he finished, tears falling from his eyes. You didn’t know when you started crying but this moment was the best moment of your entire life. You practically jumped on Satoru as you hugged him.
Oh you’re my my my my
“Yes, yes a million times yes!” you said in between your tears as Satoru hugged you back. When you pulled away, he slowly slipped the ring onto your ring finger.
You immediately leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your unsaid love into this kiss. He kissed you back with the same passion as you. You felt like you fell for him all over again. The love story that started long back when you were in university, when you never thought he even knew your existence, when you never thought he’ll notice you, when you never thought he would even speak yet alone dance with you. And you definitely didn’t think that out of everyone, Gojo Satoru was ‘The One’ for you. But even after everything, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Happy new year, Gojo.”
“Happy new year to you too, soon-to-be Mrs Gojo.”
Darling you’re my my my my
Loverrr <3
________________________________________
ever blushed while reading your own writing? I just did lmao. Hope y’all liked this!
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arlertdarling · 7 months
Text
❥ ROCKSTAR!HANGE
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rockstar!hange who is the fiery-spirited bassist of flügel der freiheit — a german rock band famous for their fierce music, moody lyrics and masks made of bandages.
rockstar!hange who thrives in the spotlight, playing unforgettable solos and performing crazy stunts, from flips and back bends to knee slides and stage dives.
rockstar!hange whose body is all silver piercings, colourful nerdy tattoos and a few too many dumb not-always-drunken mistakes.
rockstar!hange who is positively unmatched in the headbanging game, jumping and thrashing until their hair has fallen out of its ponytail and their bandages are halfway off.
rockstar!hange who always knows exactly how to hype up the crowd or entertain them when there’s a delay or technical issues.
rockstar!hange who has countless scars from stage stunt accidents and is way too eager to recount the stories in grossly excessive and gory detail during interviews. their bandmates call them a reckless idiot, but they claim that ‘scars make good ice-breakers’ and ‘look badass’ and also ‘were totally worth it’.
rockstar!hange who strikes ridiculous poses and pulls weird faces in fan selfies — a total 180 from their promotional photoshoots, where they’re always slightly smirking and matching the serious vibe of their bandmates.
rockstar!hange who loves their fans, almost as much as their fans love them, and would probably stop to take a picture or give an autograph to every person who asked, if not for their management team and bandmates literally dragging them away.
rockstar!hange who is just as unhinged online as they are in real life, often scrolling through edits of themselves, commenting on fanwork and posting memes and goofy photos with nonsensical captions. luckily this is all limited to their personal socials because miche and levi got sick of them doing this on the band’s joint official accounts and changed the password to keep them out.
rockstar!hange who talked and rambled so much during the band’s GENIUS interview that most of it didn’t make it to the final cut.
rockstar!hange who, despite how it may seem, is actually really intelligent and practically the backbone of the band’s revolutionary music; always thinking outside the box, suggesting weird ideas and experimenting with concepts that neither miche nor levi had even thought to try.
rockstar!hange who you met through miche’s girlfriend, nanaba, when she invited you to see them play their first show, back when they were still a no name trio playing at school proms and empty bars.
rockstar!hange who had you hooked from the moment they stepped on stage, unintentionally charming you with their silly antics, dorky chatter mouth and intense bass playing.
rockstar!hange who would proceed to see you at the end of every show after that because they’d been hopelessly charmed by your looks, laughter and lovable personality. they flirted with you so blatantly that levi scolded them more than once, but you didn’t mind, of course, because you were flirting back just as much.
rockstar!hange whose relationship status didn’t become public until later, breaking the hearts of thousands, to the point that it was trending on german twitter for almost a week.
rockstar!hange who insists on a good luck kiss from you before every show.
rockstar!hange who doesn’t really care for paps — sometimes even likes the attention — but will not hesitate to confront them in the act if they try to snap a photo of you, levi or miche without your permissions.
rockstar!hange who gushes about you so often to their fans that you’ve accumulated a sort of fan club of your own.
rockstar!hange who is rarely seen off-stage without you at their side and an arm lazily thrown over your shoulders or a hand tucked into your back pocket.
rockstar!hange who will find out your current favourite song so they can add it to the set list last minute to surprise you.
rockstar!hange who is super clingy after touring, going out of their way to spend every waking hour with you — yes that includes following you into the bathroom — and then spooning you the entire night, only to do it all again the next day.
rockstar!hange who calls you the ‘rock’ to their ‘star’ because you’re always there to keep them grounded; to remind them that, at the end of the day, they’re a person just like all their fans, who gets tired, or needs a break, or worries and suffers burnout. it’s thanks to you that they’re able to keep doing what they love, and they make sure that everybody knows it.
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c1garettesduringsex · 6 months
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𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 | 𝙀.𝙈
𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
summary: Eddie and you are in a happy relationship, until your asshole of a brother tries to ruin it all.
𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: Angst to fluff, established relationship, implied virgins (Eddie and Reader) suggested sex, swearing, bullying, Jason carver being an asshole.
Requested by @borhapgirlforlife19
A/N: its not as long as I'd like it to be, but this was kinda hard to write for me, and I am not sure why...
Having the reputation of being Jason Carver sister, comes with many advantages and disadvantages. you’d like to think the advantages out-way the bad ones. but really its just not true, not when the love of your life is at stake. not when Eddie is out there waiting for you. out of everyone, he’d chosen you. his enemy sister? it would be foolish if Eddie didn’t know what he was getting into with you.
regardless, Eddie adored the shit out of you.
you had given him most of your firsts, kiss, date, prom. it was only a matter of time until it was all of your firsts, sex, and the “i love you” but Jason would never let that happen, no. not on his watch.
needless to say, Jason carver doesn’t like Eddie Munson. because he for one, Worships the devil, is a freak for having different style…oh and the freak is dating you…Jason carver’s sister.
Jason had already “expressed” his feelings when he found out, which you’d both already been dating a few weeks before he even took notice. his first words to you were
“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” followed by his friends behind him as he burst through the door of your bedroom. you hadn’t been doing anything in particular other than sitting on your bed reading a magazine. you had answered in something close too “meaning what?”
he then continued to have an extremely angry rant in your bedroom about how hes a freak and bad influence…or something? you hadn’t really listened at all.
you couldn’t bare to hear him talk about Eddie, your Eddie.
a few weeks later, when you’d been at school awaiting the love of your life by his locker, he had yet to show up…in fact he never showed up. you’d figured he had probably gone home early and hadn’t thought to much about it.
however when he didn’t show up to his locker the next morning, you took that as a sign to maybe you’d done something towards him.
nonetheless ‘one more day’ you thought, if Eddie isn’t there tomorrow. you’ll actually do something about it. because what if it was all for nothing? and he really just was busy after all?
while approaching your house, you made notice of Jason’s friends cars parked outside. not unusual they all practically lived here anyways. that was until you walked inside…and they were all huddled around a piece of paper, pen inside Jason’s fist.
“What are you all doing?, I know you don’t do assignments” slipping off your shoes, then dropping the school bag. the second you tried to get a peek of the paper, you were pushed away, a scowl instantly making its way to your features.
“nothing, don’t worry about. go to your room or something” Jason muttered, continuing to write on the mysterious paper. “whatever, wasn’t interested anyways” you muttered, walking halfway up the stairs before listening to them. it was muffled, but it was something along the lines of “that will teach the freak” or maybe “he will learn to stay away” you kept in mind to tell Eddie tomorrow he was planning something. then rushed off to bed.
you’d expected to not see Eddie at his locker, but he was there. instantly making your way to wrap your arms around him, in a hug. but when he didn’t wrap his hands around you. and whisper your favorite sentence “hey sweetheart, looking gorgeous” you almost instantly recoiled. looking up at him with a confused gaze.
it was a few seconds before he seemed to finally gather the words to speak. “Get away from me.” what? that was absolutely not the thing you had hoped to hear from your boyfriend. “Eddie? Baby, what are you talking about?” that only seemed to make him more mad, he used his hands to cover his eyes. most likely to shield tears from your vision.
“how are you still talking to me, right now? after the shit you said?” now the tears had made way to your own eyes, they leaked down your cheeks. hot, wet and shameful.
“w-what did i say..?” your voice was quiet, shaky. he seemed to notice but took no care in that moment, instead walking the other way, nose sniffling. your heart shattered, watching him walk away angry. something you wished to never see.
you thought about following him, but chances were that he’d just leave again. so you waited until he had no where to go.
Hellfire.
the one place that Eddie would be no matter what. no matter the time or day, he’d always show up.
so you did exactly that, waited…and waited, in fact you waited hours until hellfire had started. a little anxious to enter the room, had he told everyone what you ‘said’? did hellfire now hate you? a million thoughts rushing through your head, but eventually just opening the door. deciding to face the fears of your relationship.
as soon as you opened the door, it was all eyes on you. a few eyes rolled, a few sighed and looked the other way. but not Eddie, oh no. his eyes were locked onto you.
“…I’ll be right back, boys.” Placing his keys on the table, he walked outside the Hellfire room. shutting it behind you both.
“What are you doing here?” He immediately whispered, clenching his fists by his sides. “Eddie…I…I never wrote any note to you, i never said anything about you” the tears came rolling back in against your will. hands clawing at his chest, trying to get him to believe you somehow.
“save the act, i have the note right here. Carver” You think, you might’ve actually flinched at the last name, ‘Carver’ as Eddie shoves the paper in your hands, they immediately go to open the scrunched up note. hands shaking and wet with tears.
eyes widening as your eyes scanned over the harsh words on the paper.
Dear Eddie,
It took me too long to come to my senses about you, i should’ve listened to my brother and my friends when they said you were a weird freak.
i am not even sure why i said yes to go out with you, other than feeling bad for you. I am over pretending that i love you. goodbye forever.
from, your Ex-girlfriend.
it was cruel note, and you understand why he didn’t wanna talk with you. hands ripping the paper the second you had finished reading it, “this is a disgusting note” you looked up at him, “yeah no shit” he answered, still convinced that maybe it was you who had written it.
“Eddie, i swear i didn’t write this! it must’ve been Jason. I-I Swear, i saw them writing something a few days ago—” it was like something had clicked, he looked at you differently.
like he had now believed you.
eyes red, puffy from crying. hands shaking, in fact your whole body was shaking like a leaf. you were many thing, talented…gorgeous, a sweetheart. but not a liar. no, you hated liars. and never wanted to be one.
he almost in an instant, wrapped his arms around you in an embrace. chanting “I am so sorry, baby” over and over into your ear. it seemed to calm you almost instantly. god, you loved him.
“what did you say” shit.
“uh, n-nothing” did you say that you loved him, out loud?! it was true, you did love him. you’d meant it for awhile now. but you hadn’t planned for it to go like this.
" Nuh-Uh...you can’t take it back now, Princess” your stomach burned, a matching blush on your cheeks. " I love you…Eddie” then he gave the biggest, goofy grin ever. one you’ve grown to adore.
“I love you too, sweetheart” leaning down to kiss your lips, which were also. wet with tears.
you had gone through so many emotions at once, confusion, anger, sadness, love. you feel in love all the time when his in a certain distance of you.
that night was full of many ways to show love, hard panting, loud moaning, the loud screams of “i love you” over and over, and over again. you opened it with open arms. any time of everyday.
you’d give him all your firsts any-day.
“Nobody has ever measured, even poets, how much a heart can hold.” – Zelda Fitzgerald
<3
-Summer
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bagopucks · 11 months
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M. Marner - Depths Of Love
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✄————————————
Mitch Marner x Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warning(s): death of a loved one, angst, coping, moving on.
“We grew together, and now are grown. In her eyes, I see my heart. In her breath, I hear my soul. She is my land. She is my skin. My love.”
“All wounds heal. Even these."
“I'll never be healed of Eo. That pain will last forever.”
"Some things do not fade. Some things can never be made right.”
“There’s pain when I hold her, but it comes from the past…. She is something new, something hopeful. Like spring to my deep winter.”
Bonus points if you know the books these quotes are from!
I didn’t know what I wanted to write at first, I just knew I wanted to write for Mitch.
—————————————
“Mitch?” Auston stepped up beside his friend, resting a hand on the chilly damp fabric of Mitch’s suit jacket.
“I know.. I know.. I’m gonna get there.”
“There’s no rush, bud. Take your time.”
They stood together for what felt like hours. Mitch held the red rose in his hands, as delicately as he held her hand when she passed. Auston’s hand remained on his back, occasionally rubbing in an effort to console his lost friend. Mitch’s eyes had been red since he woke up that morning. His body had been on autopilot, gathering the belongings and items that had to go home with her family. Putting on a black suit he stuffed in the back of the closet forever ago. A black suit he said he never wanted to wear because it was too mundane. He had cooler things to wear. Now he understood why black fit funerals so well.
“What’s going through your mind?”
Mitch let out a shaky sigh.
“She’s gone. I’m gonna drop this flower and that’s just that.. she’s gone. They’re gonna-“ he choked on a breath of air, tears spilling down his cheeks once again.
“Buddy, you have to drop it eventually.”
“I didn’t want her to go.”
It was untimely. They’d just gotten engaged. They just began a binder full of wedding plans. She just began her journalist career. She had an extensive article on Mitch’s career she wanted to publish.
Then she got sick. Mitch’s world slipped from his fingertips more and more every day. He didn’t know how to grip onto anything when it was all just sand, blowing away. He lost it all so quickly. He felt like his whole world lost its meaning. The sun set, and the moon was dull. The stars in the sky didn’t even entice him. Nothing sounded interesting when she wasn’t there next to him.
Mitch released the flower only as a means to free his hands to grab ahold of Auston. Matthews’ arms enveloped Mitch in a grasp that was desperate and understanding. Auston held onto Mitch while he sobbed, the simple sound of agony causing the others gathered to allow the tears of their own to fall.
Mitch clung to Auston through the transition. Cleaning his house, attending therapy, deciding how to move forward, returning to hockey. He kept in touch with her family for the first week or so, then at some point, they all stopped texting and calling. It took months before Mitch’s life returned to a routine normalcy that was much like the one before her. Zeus slept in the bed again, his late nights were spent watching tv in bed, his dishes were only cleaned when the sink was full.
Sometimes Mitch slipped up to his attic to visit her. The items of hers that he kept. The wedding plans, the ring, the few articles of clothing. Sometimes he’d spend so many hours up there, that he’d fall asleep. Then eventually, he stopped visiting. His life became hectic. Enveloped it hockey. A firm distraction. A good one.
Then we met. Mitch’s smiles reached his eyes again. His giggles sounded genuine. The center of his world shifted again, to hold myself and hockey. He was guarded at first, but I was patient. I met her before I met his family. Mitch told me of her. She seemed wonderful. Like somebody I would have been friends with. Which was why I made a silent promise to myself, that I would not turn him into somebody she would have hated. I made a silent promise to her, that I would protect him. Hold him, and care for him. And that’s what I did.
Some days were better than others. We’d stay in and cook, or go out for dinner and dessert. Sometimes Mitch wanted me to join him for a quick skate. Other days, he wanted to join me in bed while I read. It wasn’t always perfect. Sometimes he’d randomly cry. I learned, sometimes I simply had to stop whatever I was doing to be there for him. If he wanted it. He was good at hiding away when he didn’t want any consolation. Other times, he’d be gone so long that I’d go looking for him, only to find him struggling to breathe in the corner of his room, on the floor with his dog curled up by his feet.
“Mitchy?” I cooed as my feet padded down the hall, stepping into the bedroom I woke up in. He was laid out on his stomach, in bed. His muscles looked tense, easily noticeable due to the lack of a shirt. I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell by his heaving breaths that something wasn’t right. Then I heard his soft cries.
I slowly wandered over to the bed and climbed in next to him, laying on my stomach and tossing an arm over his back to gently rub his skin.
“Deep breaths, sweetie.” I’d press occasional kisses to the side of his arm.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken.
“Don’t rush, hun.”
At some point, the tears stopped and the kisses began. Mitch would never forget her. She would never leave his heart, but he let go of the guilt. He told her of me. He told her how much he loved me. He showed her the ring he bought before he ever showed Auston.
“I think she’s really gonna love it.” Mitch smiled down at the ring box in his hands, seated in the grass by her headstone. “She loves square diamonds.“ He shook his head in disbelief. “I really hope she says yes.”
I did. It was a no brainer when he got down on one knee. When he asked me to spend his forever with him, I didn’t have any doubts. I worked far too hard, and loved him too much, to give him up.
There were moments after the engagement where he was tense. Nervous and stressed over recalling the moments when he lost his late fiancé. I had to remind Mitch that the uncertainty couldn’t stop him from living. I couldn’t assure him that he wouldn’t lose me. There would always be that possibility. What I did tell him, was that it was important to live in the moments while they last. To forget about the ‘what ifs.’
Mitch asked if his dog could be the ring bearer. I made him promise that Zeus wouldn’t jump on everybody. We comprised that Auston could walk the dog down the aisle.
“We are gathered here today…”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” He whispered through clenched teeth. Mitch’s smile was contagiously wide. We stood so close that the priest was almost unable to be seen between us.
“I love you,” I spoke in a hushed tone. Mitch’s cheeks flushed.
“Don’t say it yet.” He squeezed my hands.
“Are we done yet?” Our heads snapped in the priest’s direction, our faces flushing.
“Sorry.” Mitch muttered.
The ceremony went by in a twinkle of wonder. Mitch pulled his vows from his pocket in the form of notes on his phone. I had done the same on my own, but my dress didn’t have pockets, so my maid of honor had to hold my phone for me until I was ready for it.
“Okay..” Mitch blew out a tense puff of air. He held his phone up, big blue eyes flickering between myself and his phone.
“Mitchy.” I caught his attention. “There’s no rush. Take your time.” The tension eased from his shoulders, then he nodded.
“Your patience gave me time to grow. I didn’t know what to do with my life for a period of time. I was walking in circles, until you paved a new path, and held my hand every step of the way. I get lost easily. Incredibly easily. And I couldn’t have fallen more in love with you than I did. I know it wasn’t easy.” I wanted to wipe the tears from his cheeks, but for the sake of not distracting him, I kept my hands to myself. “I know I made it hard on you, but I’m so happy you stuck it out. I can’t wait to spend every tomorrow with you.”
Only when he put his phone away, did I reach out to cup his cheeks in my hands. Mitch sniffled quietly. I would have kissed him then and there, if not for tradition.
“Miss?”
“I’m getting there.” I answered the priest with a quiet laugh. I pulled away from Mitch and turned to my bridesmaid to grab my phone. When I looked back at him, I reached for his hand with my free one.
“Mitchell,” the use of his full name made him smile. “You hold my soul. My entire being. You fulfill a part of me that nobody else could. We’ve grown together, and we’ll continue to do so. The timing with which we met each other, was perfect. One second later would have been too late. Please never forget my vow to love you for eternity. Even as the days pass by, and we grow old.”
When we kissed, I could feel the tears on Mitch’s cheeks. The cheering and excitement in the background was just that. Background noise. Our first kiss was as intimate as our first dance. We felt like the only two in the room, sharing moments we never thought we would have the privilege of sharing with anybody.
Mitch spun me around, content smiles on our lips. His hands found my hips when I faced him again.
At some point the song ended, but we never stopped swaying. Mitch’s arms wrapped around my midsection, and his chin came to rest on top of my head. There was the occasional flash from a camera, quiet whispers, but nobody said a word to us for a while. Until I heard Mitch’s mother from behind him.
“Mitchell?”
“I’m not done yet.” He fussed, his grip tightening around my body.
“There’s no rush, baby. I just wanted a photo.” He slowly turned us in her direction. I lifted my head from where it had been resting against his chest.
“Smile for me, sweethearts.” The woman held her phone up. When the flash of her camera lit up the dim room, we both laughed.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you guys alone now.” She squeezed her son’s arm before slipping off to find her husband.
Mitch and I slowly looked back at one another.
“I can’t wait to get you home,” he confessed softly as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“No rush, baby.”
✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾
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thepsychewrites · 1 year
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Lost and Found | N. Romanoff
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Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader
Summary: After finding where Natasha had been hiding the past few months since the fall out after the Sokovia Accords, you were determined to never lose her again.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI ;; brief mention of a gun, teeny bit of angst if you squint, established relationship, smut, fingering and oral (R receiving), descriptive language, mommy kink (sorry not sorry), slight praise, nipple sucking, cum eating, this is depraved besties i’m not gonna lie, mentions of scissoring.
Word Count: 3k
Author’s Note: Hi besties — I haven’t posted in AGES, so here’s my comeback 😎 I hope you whores enjoy. Reblogs n feedback are highly appreciated <3
Main Masterlist
———————
There are a few things in life you deemed regrettable.
The dress you wore to junior year prom. The obnoxious blue colored frames you chose for your first pair of glasses.Turning down a full ride to Princeton and the handful of scholarships other ivy leagues offered. Working for SHIELD instead of an organization less life-threatening and deceptive. Running as a fugitive of the law from saving your friends life and not registering into the Sokovia Accords.
Looking back on the decisions you’ve made, there was only one you’d go back and change if you were ever given the chance.
You wouldn’t have let Natasha convince you to split off — going your separate ways off grid without one another after the two of you, along with nearly half of your friends, were seen as traitors of the team. It was an awful idea to begin with, but Natasha has a way of convincing people she always knows the right answer to everything. At one point, the two of you were connected at the hip, never doing anything without the other close by. But it’s been three months since you’ve seen your girlfriend, and you weren’t going to stay away any longer.
It was nearly impossible to find where she was hiding out. The woman was the epitome of camouflage, even out in the open she couldn’t be seen. She was untraceable, untrackable. It would be an easier job to find a Tasmanian tiger still alive in the wild than it would be to find Natasha Romanoff on the run.
Unless, of course, you knew exactly what to look for.
After weeks of digging around, endlessly searching every corner of the world — you found her.
Tucked under the cover of the towering and snowy Norwegian mountains, dusk had just settled down over the trailer home Natasha had secured herself in. A faint yellow light illuminated the inside, partially blocked from the charcoal curtains that hung over the small dirty windows. She had gotten into the shower less than two minutes ago, the faint pitter patter of the scalding water dropping around her barely heard from the outside. Your ear was pressed against the metallic paneling of the trailer, listening for your opportunity to enter.
Natasha’s guard was down. It was now or never.
With careful footsteps you tiptoed across the mossy grass, your breath slow and steady. You pulled a pick from your sleeve, placing it in the lower lock of the door and waiting to hear the clicks. Once the last one sounded, you turned the handle to check your success. It unlocked. You placed the pick in the deadbolt, wiggling around until it too snapped out of place. With a cautious push you opened the door.
Natasha was never big on keeping sentimental items around, and that was still true for her current hideout. It was set up like any standard trailer home, a living room to the right that led into a small kitchen, which connected to a narrow hallway where the bathroom was before opening into a bedroom to the left of the house. The couch had a few knitted blankets thrown over the sides of it, a computer and some books messily laid atop a rectangular table in front. The kitchen counter held a few loose pieces of change, a vase with wilting pansies and lilacs dangling over its sides, and a short stack collection of Norwegian magazines. She had obviously attempted to make it as homey as possible, but that could be a difficult task for someone who never had a true place to call home.
Natasha must have felt the shift in the atmosphere, because the second you had sat down the shower turned quiet, a heavy silence filling the space. You waited the long seconds in between, the time racking up to two minutes until you heard any noise from the bathroom. The door opened with an odd creak, a suspecting redhead turning the corner quickly with a glock in hand, pointed directly at you. Her hair was dripping onto the linoleum floor below, her baggy t-shirt and black cotton shorts sticking to her body. It took her three seconds to lower it, a surprised look covering her face.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Good god, Natasha, I hope you don’t greet all of your guests like that.” A light smile pulled at your lips, eyebrows raised in amusement at her slightly panicked state.
“Y/n? What the hell are you doing here?” She asked in a whispered yell, creeping closer and placing the gun down by the kitchen sink. Before waiting for an answer she turned to the door, pressing into it and relocking the deadbolt, moving next to close the gaps in the curtains over the closest window.
Standing up from the couch, you inched towards her. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come find you? After four years together I thought you’d know me better than that, Natty.” Upon reaching her, you couldn’t help but to tuck back a fallen strand of hair, your thumb gliding across her warm, terribly flushed cheek. “Plus,” You said with a sigh, “I was getting lonely. It’s cold at night when you’re not in bed next to me.”
Natasha looked disappointed, her frown slightly pouty, but her eyes were warm and understanding. “Where were you staying?”
You couldn’t help but groan playfully. “A miserable, cramped apartment in Vienna. It wasn’t ideal, but… I didn't have much of a choice. It was safe.”
Natasha’s pretty green eyes were studying you intensely, almost as if she was seeing your face for the first time again. A gentle hand found your hip, and she pushed at your soft skin until your bodies connected. “You should’ve stayed there,” She mumbled, her gaze falling to your lips. “If they find out where I am…”
“They won’t.” You assured with a shake of your head.
“You’ll get us both killed.” She stated with warning in her voice, her forehead resting against yours.
You hummed, your lips a hair's width from hers. Her breath was hot. Minty. Inviting.
“Then I hope they bury us somewhere with a view.”
With enough time wasted, you pressed your lips to hers, a familiar taste settling in your mouth. Both of her hands found your sides now, pushing you into her with a desperate force as her tongue circled against yours with a fire you almost forgot she possessed. The second a choked whimper came from you, she pulled back. “Bedroom, now.” It was all she said before you were being picked up, her fingers clutching your thighs as she hauled you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as your arms did the same around her neck.
You pushed her hair away from her face, biting and kissing the pale skin at her jawline and throat as she maneuvered the two of you through the hallway, kicking at the bedroom door to get it open. She openly groaned when you nipped at her sweet spot, your teeth pinching the skin right under her ear. Natasha found your lips once more before sitting you down on top of her bed, the blankets being shoved to the side.
Her fingers gathered the material at the bottom of your sweatshirt, gripping it harshly and dragging it up your torso. “Get this off. All of it. I need to see my girl.” With a quick pull she had it up and over your head in a second, her mouth leaving a sloppy trail over your collarbone while moving to the hooks of your bra and unclasping them.
With each mark of Natasha’s lips across your skin, she claimed you as hers. It wasn’t a question in either of your minds — you belonged to one another. Time didn’t mean a thing. Whether it was three months or three years, you would always be hers, and Natasha would always be yours.
Her shirt came off next, no bra to fiddle with underneath. Natasha straddled your legs, her chest now fully on top of yours as she pushed you back into the mattress, the added weight simultaneously comforting you and making your head spin. You could’ve cried as you felt her taut nipples drag across your breasts, a feeling you’ve missed all too much these last few weeks. “Nat…” You whined, already struck with the ache that always came with her feeling you up, “Need you…”
Her eyes stayed on yours as she worked her way down, kissing and nibbling at any and every inch of skin to her disposal. “I know you need me, baby. Be patient.” She never kept you waiting for long, but things might be different this time around. Three months was too much time spent without you. Her dreams always led her to imagine you here in this exact spot, stretched out over her bed and peering up at her with that hazy look she couldn’t get enough of. She wanted to savor this moment and bask in the beauty that was laid out before her. She wanted to move slowly when she felt you, kissed you, tasted you, so as to not let this dream pass by in a second's time.
Natasha’s mouth dropped to your tingling chest, her tongue dipping out ever so slightly when she reached your breasts, circling around them before taking your nipple into her mouth. She began with the right side, wrapping her kiss-swollen lips over it and sucking heavily, closing her eyes and humming in contentment. The vibrations ran through you like water, sending shockwaves of pleasure down every nerve. Your need for her touch only grew when her hands moved, one finding your other boob and squeezing down on it, the other connecting with the center of your throat, grasping just enough to make you work for your breath. Her tongue toyed with your nipple for only a moment more before she released it, a string of spit snapping at the lost connection. She quickly found the other, giving it the same treatment as you squirmed beneath her. Your hands were leaving light scratches up and down the expanse of her back, which only drove Natasha crazier by the second.
“Fuck… please, Nat. Please touch me.” You were growing impatient, loving how good she was making you feel but knowing if she didn’t touch you where you needed her, and soon, you would combust.
She bit down softly on your puffy nipple, a warning and a tease, before letting it pop from between her lips to hover over you. “What do you want then, pretty girl? My fingers…” She tipped her head down to kiss your nose. “My mouth?” Another wet kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you my cunt if that’s what you want… but you’ve got to behave for me first.” She whispered darkly in your ear before nipping at your lobe.
A depraved sob left you, your mind swirling with desire and too clouded in everything Natasha to give her a coherent answer. You wanted all of the above, but being greedy never got you anywhere.
“Hmm, is my baby too excited to speak?” Natasha knew you could get soft and sweet on her like this sometimes, and it wasn’t any wonder it would happen after so long apart. “That’s alright, I’ve got you angel. Mommy’s here.” She cooed delicately and without hesitation.
Her words made your head spin.
It was instinctual, the way in which she knew how to love you. Like maybe she was put into the universe to do exactly that. And if her higher purpose was to care for you, love you, and to be so intensely intertwined with you like this? Then she would accept that fate with open arms.
Natasha sat up onto her knees, her hands coming to cradle your sides as she helped push you further towards the headboard. With a huff you laid back against the few satiny pillows, watching with lidded eyes as Natasha settled her gaze onto your clothed pussy. The dark denim presented a barrier between her and her favorite thing in the world — and she wouldn’t let it stay there for long. Her fingers immediately found the button and zipper, both being undone in a matter of seconds. She removed the jeans from your legs, aimlessly throwing them by the door. To be even more of a tease, she bent over, placing a singular kiss at the band of your lacy underwear, her teeth grazing the edge. She pulled the material between her lips, eyes locked on yours before slowly dragging them down your thighs, over your bent knees, and past your ankles until they too were off. While still sitting upright she found the waist of her shorts, pulling them off in one swift movement. She had nothing underneath, the two of you now completely bare.
Seeing Natasha like this after so long made you emotional, and you couldn’t help how your eyes watered up at the sight of her. “You’re so perfect, Nat. So beautiful…” You mumbled through blurred vision, a sniffle coming soon after.
“Oh sweet girl,” She said in the same quiet manner, coming back down to leave a kiss on your lips. “So are you. Absolutely perfect and all mine. I’ve missed you more than words can say.” Her hands trailed over your sides, your hips, your thighs, anywhere they could find purchase and anchor her down. “Let me take care of you tonight, baby. Are you gonna be good for mommy and let me do that? Huh? You gonna let your mommy show you how much she missed you?”
Her voice carried to your ears and sent chills through your spine, setting a fire to your core and making it burn straight through you. You’d let this woman do anything she desired, no questions asked. “Yes mommy,” You nodded fervently, “Want you so bad.”
Her hands traveled under your thighs and dug into the skin at your hips, giving her the leverage she needed to sink back on her knees, her face now right above your glistening pussy. You barely had time to blink before her tongue was dragging flat up your folds, gathering your slick and twirling over your clit. Cursing through a particularly loud moan, your head pushed into the pillows as your back arched from the bed, delirium washing over you.
It was clear Natasha enjoyed how your body responded, her lips closing around your bud to suckle it, finding a steady rhythm that sent you writhing in her grasp. She ate you out like she was on death row and it was her last meal, savoring every drop of your arousal that entered her mouth.
You didn’t notice when one of her hands left your hip until you felt the pad of her middle finger circle around the tight ring of your pussy. Crying out, you bucked up into her face, her remaining hand landing over your stomach to keep you down. The tip of her finger entered you slowly, pushing in deep until finding your sweet spot and curling up.
“Holy shit,” You gasped, “Fuck — Nat please, harder.”
Begging was always a weakness of Natasha’s, and you knew that all too well. With a hungry growl against your throbbing clit, her pace increased as she pounded in and out, sneakily adding in her ring finger before pushing in as deep as possible. She could feel your walls pulsing, knowing she was about to send you over the edge.
Your mouth hung open, unrestrained moans and squeaks falling out with every drag of her hand. Your own fingers were combed and interlaced through her red hair, the only thing keeping you tethered to this earth.
As you neared closer and closer to your peak, the hand she held over your stomach pushed down, making her thrusts feel unbearably deep. She moaned against you, her spit coating your nub as she lapped at it. All of her movements were starting to become too much for you to handle, and your breathing got winded and lost as you approached your release. Your orgasm rippled through your body as you dove headfirst into pleasure, eyes screwed shut and static filling your head.
As your body fell limp and the only word you could blabber was a faint “Nat” over and over, Natasha gently released your clit from her mouth, her hand slowing down and pulling out of your fluttering warmth.
Your juices were soaking her fingers, a white creaminess she’s been craving for weeks dripping down her knuckles. Natasha looked down, watching as cum leaked out from your pretty cunt, prideful in knowing she was the reason why.
In a move that almost sent you reeling into another orgasm, she brought her fingers to her mouth, closing her swollen lips right over them to lick up your cum. “I almost forgot how good that little pussy tastes.” Natasha hummed, still sucking any remaining slick off, “How good my little pussy tastes.” She corrected with a smirk.
Your vision was swarming with stars, eyes glossed over from how strong you came. Trembling legs ghosted over Natasha’s sides, heart still pounding but your breath was leveling out.
“Thank you, Natty.” You spoke with a voice so sweet and small it had your girlfriend's lips pulling up in a wide smile and quiet laugh.
Her nails raked over your belly, thumbs caressing your nipples once more. “Don’t thank me just yet, princess. I told you if you were good Mommy would let you have her cunt, remember?” She took in your widening eyes and nodding head, a fresh fire sparking in her core. With careful movements she crawled up your body, hooking a leg over yours and lowering herself down until her pussy rested atop yours.
“You’ve been such a good girl, so Mommy needs to keep her word. Get comfortable, angel. We have all night, and I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
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gudfornuthin · 1 year
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Teenage Dirtbag
Eddie Munson x reader
She’s the most popular girl in school. And he’s just the freak. Maybe people shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
A/N: based off the song narrative of Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus. I really loved writing this, I enjoy creating stories based off of songs. So if anyone has other music you want me to base stories on, don’t hesitate to ask! Feedback is greatly appreciated❤️
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The Hellfire Club had ended their campaign earlier than expected. They were pissed, obviously, but the dungeon master had good reason to cut it short. That reason being the cheer squad practicing out on the field at the same time. He wasn’t big on school spirit and didn’t care for any form of sport. But the one thing, or person, Eddie took an interest in was the cheer captain, Y/N.
She wasn’t Eddie’s usual type. Popular, athletic, preppy. Way out of his league, obviously. But the boy couldn’t help the attraction he had towards her. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh. God, it was infectious.
Eddie walks out of the building and makes his way to the field, beelining for the bleachers. He doesn’t want to seem like a creep, but he also has a reputation to uphold. If people found out that the freak was watching cheer practice every week for an hour, he’d never live it down. He leans on his arms, peaking through the gaps and scanning the cheerleaders. He spots her in the middle, stretching her arms and leaning from side to side. She wears white tube socks and bright yellow Keds. Most couldn’t pull that off. But to Eddie, she rocks it. He wants nothing more than to tell her that, but she has no idea who he is.
“So this is why we have to cut Hellfire short?”
Eddie jumps and turns around, the sarcastic question coming from none other than Dustin Henderson. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, pleased with the older boys scared reaction.
“Henderson. You shouldn’t creep up on a guy when he’s-“
“When he’s acting like a perve.”
Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. He knows it’s weird for him to do this. But he’d rather admire from afar then be put in his place if he so much as smiles at her. Although, she’s the problem. It’s her dick of a boyfriend. He doesn’t know much about him, only that he plays on the basketball team and lives on his block. Somewhere else he sees her frequently. Driving down the street together in his IROC, her bare legs hanging out the window. Her boyfriend also carries a gun around school. Why, Eddie couldn’t begin to imagine. He definitely doesn’t want to find out.
“You know,” Dustin pipes up, “Y/N isn’t judgemental like her friends. Or boyfriend.” Eddie chooses not to question how he knows she’s the one he’s been looking at. “She’s always been open-minded. Might be willing to get to know Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy.”
At that, Eddie goes to push the younger boy, but misses, as Dustin runs off snorting. He wishes he could believe those words. That maybe you wouldn’t look at him the way everyone else does. That you’d see past the messy hair, leather jackets and unsavoury music. But he couldn’t. because he was just that. The freak. The weirdo. The dirtbag. He huffs and walks away from the bleachers, feeling down on himself.
---
Why Eddie had agreed to take all the kids to prom, he’ll never know. But as they all pile out of the van, chatting animatedly about decorations and people’s outfits, he sits back with a cigarette in hand. He had nowhere to go, and they’d all be ready to leave in a couple hours, so there was no point leaving to have to drive back.
He waves half-heartedly at them as they walk into the gym and lights up. Eddie closes his eyes and breaths out. He hates to sit and mope, but it’s hard not to knowing everyone else is having fun. While he sits alone, waiting for a bunch of 14-year-olds. What a loser.
No soon after the kids have left, Eddie begins to grow restless. He looks at the doors, seeing the flashing lights and hearing muffled music. It couldn’t hurt to poke his head through and scope the place. No one would see him. He’s never been to the prom before, albeit due to being banned from going every year. But it had never been his seen anyways. Having to get dressed up and listen to some shitty cover band play the same three songs over and over. Eddie preferred staying home and getting high.
Either way, he hits his hands on the steering wheel, and gets out the van, flicking the cigarette butt onto the floor. Making his way into the gym, he immediately spots Dustin, along with Mike and Lucas dancing off to the side. Red faced and laughing, he can’t help but smile, glad they’re having fun. He walks further through, trying not to be seen, but standing out completely. Eddie chooses to stand at the back of the room, alongside other rejects who hope that this will be the year they get asked to dance. He crosses one leg over the other and does the same with his arms. Constantly glancing back and forth, using the time to people watch. Couples dancing. Couples arguing. A kid most definitely spiking the punch. Y/N walking over to him.
Eddie stands up straighter, eyes wide and mouth dry. She was still coming closer, a small smile on her face. This can’t be real. Maybe she’ll take a sudden turn towards the doors, or perhaps she’s going to ask him to leave. She is part of the prom committee, and he’s not exactly welcome. Even so, she continues to walk towards him, until she’s only a few feet away.
“Surprised to see you here.”
Eddie can hardly process what she’s said. “Huh?”
“I didn’t think this was your scene. I hope you’re having a good time though.”
Why is she talking to him? why is she acting as if she knows who he is? Why does she hope he’s having a good time? Those are just a few of the several thoughts running through Eddie’s mind. His lip and hands start to shake, and he’s hyper aware that she’s waiting for him to reply.
“You look really beautiful.”
He cringes. That wasn’t what he meant to say. He truly meant it though. A stunning, purple dress hugs Y/N’s figure, the lace wrapping around her collarbone. Subtle, golden makeup shines under the light. To Eddie, she looks ethereal. He’s smitten, and he’s worried he may have just blown it. Then he hears her laugh.
“You’re too sweet,” the music changes, and ‘Like a Virgin’ begins to play. She reaches out her hand, “come on, I love this song.”
Eddie’s still in shock, as the girl takes his arm and drags him to the centre of the gym, lip syncing along to the lyrics. She takes both his hands in hers and moves them back and forth. Eddie tries to keep his focus on her, not wanting to lose a second of their time together. But he can’t help to look around, nervous and on edge. Y/N leans close so he can hear her.
“He’s not here.” Eddie looks confused. “My boyfriend? We got into a huge fight earlier and he left.”
He’s unsure how to respond. He can tell she’s trying to hide the hurt, a tight-lipped smile and eyes glossy. Her boyfriend’s a dick, sure, but Eddie knows what relationships can do to a person. Though it pains him to think of her having to go through anything like that. Instead, he changes the subject.
“So you like Madonna?”
She shrugs. “Well yeah, everyone does. But I’m more into hardcore stuff,” Eddie holds his breath. “You know, bands like Metallica and Black Sabbath.”
Of course he knew what she meant. But it was still hard to process. The head cheerleader, who wore bright colours and was the embodiment of sunshine and flowers, is a metalhead. He hardly notices the song change once more to a slow melody, as she rests her arms atop his shoulders, and his wrap instinctively around her waist.
“Actually, now that I mention it. Iron Maiden are doing a show this Friday. I’ve got two tickets and no one to go with. I was wondering if you-“
“Yes.”
Y/N is taken aback once more by Eddie’s abrupt response but smiles none the less. He shakes his head, a blush forming on his cheeks.
“I mean,” he clears his throat, “I’ll have to check my schedule because you know, I’m a busy guy,” a complete untruth, “but yeah, that’d be really cool.”
She smiles wider and looks down at Eddie’s lips. She looks into his eyes, asking for permission, to which he nods. The pair lean in, eyes closing.
“Eddie,” she whispers.
“yeah?”
“Eddie, wake up.”
He opens his eyes slightly, seeing you staring back at him.
“What?”
“Eddie, you need to wake up now.”
---
He gasps and sits up straight, finding himself in bed. He looks around and sees his uncle looking over him, dressed in work clothes. “You overslept again. Can’t keep missing school if you wanna finally graduate.” He shakes his head and walks out, leaving Eddie alone, replaying the vivid dream over and over.
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outerspacebisexual · 2 years
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Acceptance - Eddie Munson
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Requested: Yes, based on this request
Summary: When your acceptance letter to college finally arrives, you're beyond excited to tell everyone. But your brother Steve and your boyfriend Eddie don't have the reactions you were expecting.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader
Word count: 4.4k
Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mr. and mrs. harrington being shit parents
a/n: i simply do not care for the inaccuracies in this. i don't care bc it's just pretend and we can pretend that this is how getting into college works :)
also! i love hearing what you guys liked about my fics, so thanks for all the love on my other stuff! <3
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The letter sitting on the end of your kitchen counter was taunting you.
Unopened, still in pristine condition even after travelling all the way from New York, and The Juilliard School logo in the top right-hand corner.
You couldn’t take your eyes off it, despite the fear and trepidation that rose up at its mere presence.
This one letter would decide your fate. It would decide the whole trajectory of your life, for better or for worse.
Your application had been a secret. The guidance counsellor at school had made you apply when you applied for your other colleges. You had made her promise not to tell anyone about it when she helped you apply. If you didn’t get in, you didn’t want Steve or Eddie feeling sorry for you.
Music was your whole life. You had been a talented musician from birth, from everything from singing, writing, or composing music.
You weren’t even sure where your love for it had come from. Your parents didn’t care for it. They had enrolled you in a few lessons as kid, but as you grew older, their acceptance had dissipated, and it turned into a hobby that you did without their knowledge. As far as they knew, you could barely manage to play one song on the piano. So, you had enrolled yourself in classes, and taken music at school seriously, with the help of Steve.
Your twin brother had been a major part of your success. While you parents had never come to recitals or eisteddfods—either because they were away or because they just didn’t want to—Steve had always been there in the front row, cheering you on.
Being twins, you and Steve had always been attached at the hip. Not only because you had no other siblings, but because you barely had any parents either. They were never home, and you and Steve had experienced the majority of your life without them there.
It had only been you and Steve at your middle school play. It had only been you and Steve at the DMV on your sixteenth birthday. It had only been you and Steve at prom. It had only been you and Steve at your graduation.
You two were inseparable, and you owed everything to Steve.
Most especially because without him forcing you to go to the music store for another sheet book two years ago, you would have never gotten to know Eddie.
The two of you had nearly bowled each other over as you pushed the door just as he flung it open. He had only just managed to grab your arm to avoid you hitting the ground, even as he balanced his guitar case. You knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson from school, but you had never really known him. Hardly anyone did.
So, when you two began to run into each other more and more at the music store, you had strung up a friendship that quickly evolved into a relationship. That was yet another bullet point to add to the list of things that your parents didn’t approve of. Not that you gave a single flying fuck what they thought of your relationship.
And now, over two years later, you were in love with the Hawkins’ resident metalhead freak, more than you could even express.
That was why this ominous letter was so threatening.
Because it held the answer to whether all of your hard work was worth it—whether it was enough, and whether you would be leaving Hawkins.
You glanced at the clock on the wall of the kitchen.
Your parents would be home from work any minute. It was one of the weeks where they graced you with their presence at their own home. Steve would be home from work in less than 30 minutes, too.
Hesitantly, you reached out and took the letter into your hands. Your eyes ran over your name and address. You breathed in, readying yourself for whatever it said inside. Whatever the response was, it would be fine. You would be able to live with not getting in.
You swallowed, flipping it over and tearing it open without another thought.
You stood still as your eyes ran over the words printed across the page. You read it multiple times, and every time you did, the words didn’t change.
We are happy to write of your acceptance into The Juilliard School.
You got in.
You couldn’t breathe. “Oh my god,” you said to yourself.
The door opened behind you, and you spun around as your parents stepped into the house.
“Y/N,” your mother said, frowning. “What’s the matter?”
“I…I got in,” you managed, barely able to form words.
Your father rolled his eyes. “Speak up, Y/N. Don’t mumble.”
You shook your head. “I got into Juilliard.”
Both your parents stopped. You could see the shock and disbelief on their faces.
“What?” your mother said, rushing forward to rip the letter from your hands. Her eyes went over the letter, eyes widening when she found the same answer as you did. “Juilliard, honey,” she said to your father. “Our child is going to Juilliard.”
Your father huffed a laugh. “A Harrington at Juilliard. Christ, wait until the guys at work hear about this.”
As every second passed, your smile fell more and more. As your mother was immediately on the phone to your aunt who lived across the country, bragging to her about the fact that her child was going to Juilliard.
Of course they only cared about themselves.
It didn’t matter that you had gotten in without any help from them. It didn’t matter they hadn’t supported you in your pursuits. It didn’t matter that you got in.
The only thing that mattered to them was that their child got into Juilliard.
In the midst of your parents talking to different family members on the phone, the door opened again, and your smile found its way to your face again.
Steve looked around confused at your parents who were smiling and laughing on the phone. It was rare to see them smiling at all, let alone in their own house.
“What’s going on?” he said to no one in particular.
You father turned to him. “What happened, son, is that one of my children has managed to make something of their life.”
“Dad,” you said, affronted. You looked between him and Steve. You knew that would hurt Steve. Your father was never one to pull his verbal punches when it came to making sure Steve knew that he was a failure. He was a grade-a asshole.
You saw the hurt flash across Steve’s face, even as he said, “What does that mean?”
Cutting your father off, you told him, “I got into Juilliard.” You couldn’t stop the smile as you got ready for his congratulations. This was what he had been helping you for. All of his time spent walking with you to and from lessons and sitting through your eisteddfods, all of it had led to this moment.
You hadn’t been expecting Steve to jump around with excitement at the news, but you had expected some kind of joy and happiness for you, maybe even a hug as he congratulated you.
You really hadn’t expected him to take a step back, frown turning into a look of disbelief. “What? Since when did you apply to Juilliard?” he asked. There was something about his tone. Something that sounded a lot like disgust.
You were suddenly unsure of yourself. “I—I applied back before we finished high school. They had a really long waitlist to get in, so I didn’t get my acceptance until now,” you explained, reciting what the letter had said.
“But Juilliard is in New York?”
You nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting in a month, but I have to leave in a week to get ready—”
“—A week?” Steve shouted, throwing his hands up. “You’re leaving in a week? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I wanted to wait until—”
“—Until what? Until you could just leave straight away?”
You took a step back at the ferocity in his voice. “What the fuck, Steve? It’s Juilliard. I can’t just negotiate when I get there.”
Steve scoffed. “So, you’re just up and leaving?”
Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it to try and avoid the tears you could feel threatening to escape. “It’s not that far, Steve. I can come back and visit—”
“Not far? It’s, like, twelve hours one way. When are you going to visit, huh?”
You couldn’t see your brother in the man who stood there in front of you. Your brother had been the one to support you through all of your musical dreams, even when your parents didn’t. It had always just been you and Steve.
And now, for some reason, Steve was suddenly against it.
Snatching the letter from the counter, you brushed past Steve, grabbing your keys from the table beside the door. You stopped, just before leaving. “You know, Steve. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”
He didn’t even look at you before you slammed the door shut.
Your tears were racing down your face thick and fast as you drove to the trailer park. You weren’t sure how you managed to get there without causing an accident as you struggled to see through your bleary eyes.
You just needed to get to Eddie.
Eddie, being a musician, had always understood your dreams. He understood more than anyone else just what had to be sacrificed in order to get there. He had skipped out on school many times in order to write songs all day or practice his guitar.
It was one of the reasons why he was a three-time senior at Hawkins High School. But you had a good feeling about this year. He would graduate, and you would finally be able to see him cross that stage.
You rapped on the door of his trailer hard, grateful that Wayne was at work tonight. As much as you loved Eddie’s uncle, he didn’t need to see you sobbing on his couch.
Eddie opened the door, and his initial confusion as to who was assaulting his door morphed into concern at your tears. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you.
His hands were instantly on your shoulders, eyes raking over your figure to check for anything amiss. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Your face crumpled, and he pulled you straight into him. His arms came around you, pulling you tight against him as he hushed you. You gripped his shirt in your fists, anchoring yourself.
“What’s the matter?” he asked again, pulling away from you just enough to look at you.
“Steve…” you answered, wiping at your face. “Steve and I had a fight.”
That made Eddie raise a brow.
The Harrington twins fighting wasn’t all that uncommon, but never once had he heard of a fight between you and Steve leaving you in tears. You two always managed to sort things out, going from shouting at each other one second, to laughing the next. It must have been something big.
“Hey, it’s OK,” Eddie replied, gently guiding you to the couch. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He sat down, pulling you down beside him so that you leaned against him, your back to his chest. It was one of you favourite ways to sit with him. You loved feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, you matching your own.
Eddie ran his fingers up and down your arm as he held you, and your breathing slowly returned to normal. The two of you sat in silence apart from the soft lull from the TV, some show you had never seen playing.
Sitting with Eddie like this, it took your mind off all your problems. It always made everything seem so far away, like you and Eddie existed in a little bubble, immune from the outside world.
“Babe,” Eddie said softly, placing a kiss to your head. His chest vibrated behind you as he spoke. “How are you feeling?”
You sighed, eyes not leaving the TV. “I’m just tired.” Your crying had left you catatonic, tired all the way to your bones.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
You didn’t. You didn’t want to break this soft bubble. You should have been excited to tell Eddie about your acceptance to college.
The two of you had talked about your future together on so many occasions.
Eddie’s thumb traced patterns on the back of your hand as he held it while the two of you laid on the roof of his van.
You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the night sky, where the stars were shining so brightly without the moon.
You shuffled closer to him, and he looked away from the sky to you. “Cold?”
You half nodded. “A little,” you admitted. The mid-autumn air had started to get a chill, warning of a cold winter to come.
“Do you want to go?” Eddie asked, and your eyes immediately shot to his.
“No, I don’t. I want to stay here. With you.”
Even in the dark, you could see the smile that adorned his face at your words. The smile that you were absolutely, hopelessly in love with.
You both returned your gazes to the sky, your eyes searching the vastness for shooting stars. They were one of Eddie’s favourite things to see.
Aside from the occasional car in the distance, the lookout was quiet, peaceful.
“Do you ever think about us?” Eddie said, breaking the silence.
“All the time,” you replied.
“No. I mean, about us…in the future?” He seemed shy about the question, and you looked back at him, but his gaze remained on the stars.
Your eyes traced over this side profile. “Sometimes,” you said, eyes back on the sky. “I think about what we’re going to do when you graduate. If we stay in Hawkins.”
Having had your fair share of supernatural experiences, you had thought about the option of starting over somewhere without monsters. You didn’t know how to bring it up with Eddie without raising suspicion about why you wanted to leave. But the thought of leaving your hometown—leaving Steve—you weren’t sure if you would be able to.
You turned the question on Eddie. “Do you?”
Eddie was silent for a long moment. “I think about us all the time,” he admitted, and he went quiet again, for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else. “I think about us getting married. I think about us travelling the world.”
Your heart skipped, and you kept your eyes trained on the sky. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think about me and the band getting signed and then going on tour. And you’re there. But you’re writing music and performing, too. I don’t know how we do both, but we do.”
“What about college?” you asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe we go to college. Or maybe we don’t.”
You hadn’t told him about your application to Juilliard. In your mind, it was a far-off dream that would never come true. It wasn’t a reality. It just wasn’t something that would ever happen.
“Either way,” he continued, squeezing your hand, “We do it together.”
You both looked at each other, and he had that dopey smile on his face, one that you kissed with all the promises of the future.
Eddie squeezed your hand tighter, and if you thought about it long enough, those patterns he traced felt a lot like his name.
Sitting in front of Eddie now, you wished that you were more excited.
You reached into your pocket and pulled out the letter that had been the cause of this whole situation. It was crinkled, both from being in your pocket and from when your mother had snatched it from you; it was a stark contrast to how it had been just an hour ago.
You fiddled with it before handing it to Eddie over your shoulder without comment. The letter would speak for itself.
You heard him unfold it, paper rustling as he flattened it.
You felt the way his chest caught as he read it. He pushed you forward with his forearm, and you turned to look at him as he sat up straight. From where you were sitting beside him, you could see the way his face dropped.
“What?” he said, not looking up at you. His kept his eyes trained on the letter, still reading. “What—Juilliard? You—You applied to Juilliard?”
You nodded. “Back before I graduated. They…They have a long waitlist to get in.”
Eddie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze still on the letter.
You had been with Eddie long enough to know that his silence meant that he was thinking hard. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of this new information.
“I—I leave soon,” you said.
“How soon is soon?”
You swallowed. “A week.”
Eddie’s head shot in your direction at that. “A week?”
He had that same tone as Steve, and you chewed your lip. “I have to be there in a week, but I don’t start my classes for a few weeks.”
Eddie stood, and you watched as he paced around, his hand running down his face. “I haven’t graduated,” he said finally.
You furrowed your eyebrows. Of all the things that you had thought he would say, that hadn’t been on the list. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He stared at you. “What does that—What does that have to do with anything? It means that you’re going to be leaving Hawkins and I can’t come with you.”
“Eddie, I know that—”
“—You know that? Then why the fuck did you apply?”
You stood up at that. “Because I want to go to Juilliard? Because I want to make music—”
“—We talked about this. We promised that we’d do it together.”
You shook your head. “I know we did, but I didn’t expect you to fail senior year again.”
Eddie scoffed. “So, what? This is my fault now?”
“I didn’t say that, Eddie. Don’t put words into my mouth.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to understand where this had gone wrong.
“It sure as shit sounds like you’re saying it’s my fault.”
You huffed, and said, “Well, maybe it is! Maybe if you had of graduated the first time—or the second time—I wouldn’t have to be worried about it.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue across his lip. “Sorry that our promise to wait for each other is so inconvenient,” he spat, the venom in his voice so potent that it brought tears to your eyes.
You shook your head. “I did wait, Eddie! For two fucking years! And I can’t keep putting my dreams on hold to wait for you! I applied in secret because I didn’t want to deal with the pity from you or Steve if I didn’t get in. But I did!” you laughed. “I got into Juilliard! And no one seems to care about that fact that I got in. No one cares about me.”
A sob tore through you, and you put a hand to your mouth to stifle it. No one in your life cared about the fact that you had gotten in. They only cared about how it had affected them. Your parents, Steve, and now Eddie.
Your voice cracked as you continued, “No one cares about what I want. No one is happy for me.”
Your knees gave out from beneath you, and you fully expected your knees to hit the carpet, but Eddie’s arms caught you before they did. He lowered you to the ground, and his arms circled your neck.
But you pushed him away. “Don’t. I—I don’t want—”
“—Sweetheart, hey, listen to me.” Eddie grabbed your wrists as you tried to put distance between the two of you. You refused to look at him, and Eddie gently squeezed your wrists. “Look at me.”
“No,” you said, barely more than a whisper.
“I am happy for you, Y/N. So fucking happy for you.”
You glanced up at him through your lashes, his figure blurry from your tears.
He gave you a weak smile, one that was full of guilt and regret. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. I’m sorry for acting like that. I am happy for you, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”
You choked out another sob. That was the first time someone had said that in a long time.
Eddie released your wrists, raising his hands to rest on either side of your face. “I’m so proud of you.” He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”
You nodded gingerly, and Eddie smiled at you. He stood up, helping you to your feet as he guided you to his room and got into his bed beside you. He held you to his chest, just like you wanted.
After laying there for a few minutes, you said, “I’m sorry for not telling you. And I’m sorry for saying those things to you.”
You felt Eddie shake his head. “Don’t apologise, babe. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to put everything on hold for me. You have your own dreams, too. I was just…scared of you leaving—leaving Hawkins and leaving me.”
After a second, you rolled over in his arms. Even in the dark, you could see the silver that lined his eyes. “I would never leave you, Eddie.”
He gave you a watery smile and brushed his hand over the side of your face. “I know.”
“I’m scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared of being on my own. In New York. I’m scared of being there without you.”
“It won’t be for long,” he replied, and at your confusion, he elaborated. “I’ll move to New York at soon as I graduate.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I promise,” he confirmed, and he kissed you, as if to seal the deal.
+
It turned out that you had more stuff than you thought.
As you packed the last of your boxes into your car, you struggled to shut the boot.
It turned out that while your parents bragged about you going to Juilliard and were more than happy to pay rent for a small one-bedroom apartment in New York to ensure you stayed, they didn’t care enough to see you off.
You hadn’t seen Steve in the last five days. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but you had tried not to dwell on it as Eddie helped you pack your life into your car.
“Is that the last box?” you said to Eddie as he shoved it onto the backseat and slammed the door shut to avoid anything spilling out.
He was driving with you to New York, then catching a bus back. When you had brought up how you were driving by yourself, he had promptly informed you that hell would freeze over before he let you drive to New York by yourself.
“That’s it. You’re all packed.” He came to stand in front of you, and you placed your hands on his chest as his rested on your waist. “Are you ready to get going?”
You chewed on your bottom lip. You didn’t know. You didn’t know if you were ready to leave Hawkins. You turned your head to look at the house behind you.
You had grown up in this house. You and Steve had made so many memories there, both with and without your parents.
You blinked away tears at the thought of leaving without at least seeing your brother.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked.
“Nothing,” you said, trying to push the hurt down.
Eddie glanced quickly at something over your shoulder, and he seemed relieved. You spun around as a familiar car pulled up, and Steve got out.
You looked over at Eddie, and he just rolled his eyes and pushed you towards your brother.
“Hey,” Steve said when you stood before him.
“Hey,” you replied, giving him a once over. “You look terrible.”
He chuckled at that. “Yeah, that’ll happen when you spend days realising that you’re a shit brother.”
You frowned. “Steve—”
He held up his hand, cutting you off, “Please, let me finish.” You silently nodded. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I—I know how excited you are, and it’s what you want to do. I was just upset that you were leaving. I can deal with mum and dad leaving because they always have, but you’ve never left, and I don’t want you to. But…but I know that you want to—that you need to. You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s time for me to be there for you.”
You were already crying by the time Steve finished his little speech. You knew that he had been practicing that all morning. “Thank you, Steve,” you managed, and threw your arms around him. He hugged you back just as tightly.
When you both finally let go, Steve had tears of his own. “Good luck,” he said.
You took the few steps to the driver’s side door of your car. “Thanks. I’ll visit in a few weeks,” you promised.
Steve smiled big and nodded as you got into your car, Eddie plopping into the passenger seat.
You wound the window down to say one more goodbye to Steve, before peeling out of your driveway for the last time. After this, it was no longer your driveway. It was your parent’s house now.
Eddie took your hand in his, and you glanced from the road to him as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Ready?”
You squeezed his hand and smiled. “As I’ll ever be.”
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iwritesickfic · 24 days
Text
Surprise
part 1! - partially in response to a few prompts, partially its own thing. enjoy!
Seamus is almost vibrating with excitement. He hasn’t seen Theo in a month, and tonight is finally going to be the night. He’s been touring, and though Seamus would love to travel with him, he has all his own shit to do in Ireland. Lots of shit. Unfortunately.
But he finally had the time to fly the 7 and a half hours to New York to see Theo perform this week. And Theo has no idea. He's taken every precaution to make sure of that.
The show is just about over, and Seamus is standing in one of the cinderblock and concrete access hallways below the stadium, fidgeting like he’s waiting for his prom date.
Then Theo’s there, swarmed by crew members and production people, gorgeous as ever. He’s still a ways away down the hall, and it doesn’t seem like he’s seen Seamus yet. He gives it a few moments before calling out.
“Theo!” A few heads turn, and Theo looks around, totally confused, so Seamus calls again. “Theo!” His voice echoes in the cavernous space, and finally Theo’s eyes find his. Then he’s sprinting down the hallway toward him, nearly knocking Seamus over as they embrace.
The first thing Seamus notices above all else is how hard he’s trembling. It’s more like shaking. Seamus holds him tight, pulling him flush against him, and feels Theo start to cry, his face buried in Seamus’s neck. He's sobbing, gasping for breath. He’s slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his temples and forehead.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Seamus says gently, and kisses his cheek. “Are you happy to see me?” He asks teasingly, and Theo pulls back, looking half overjoyed and half exhausted. He presses a kiss to Seamus’s lips, then rests his forehead on his, eyes closed. He's out of breath - from the crying or the sprint or the kiss Seamus isn't sure.
“You have no fucking idea,” Theo whispers. His voice sounds totally shot, and he’s still shaking. He’s flushed and warm too, but that can probably be chalked up to the fact he just did a two hour set under stage lights. “Please tell me you’re staying the night. Please, fuck.”
His arms are looped around Seamus's neck.
“As long as you want,” Seamus says, and presses another kiss to his cheek. God, he’s warm. He runs his hand through Theo’s sweat damp hair, pushing some off his face and forehead. “You wanna sit down?” Theo nods, and Seamus guides him to a folding chair. He stumbles, and Seamus catches him by the elbow.
He’s getting more and more concerned with each passing moment. He’s seen Theo after shows before, and it’s never this bad. He almost seems drunk.
Theo practically collapses into the chair, then folds forward, elbows on knees, head in his hands. His greasy strands of auburn hair hang down around his face. Seamus lays a hand on his back and squats down.
"Are you ok?" he asks, hushed, and Theo nods, but doesn't say anything. "Are you sure?" He swallows thickly and looks up.
"I'm so happy you're here Shay, I'm just having a terrible fucking day and I-" he stops abruptly as he sees something over Seamus's shoulder and forces a smile.
"Amazing show tonight!" a female voice says, and Seamus looks back to see Emma, the tour manager. Immediately Seamus feels his shoulders tense. He and Emma always seem to be getting into screaming matches. He never intends it to be that way, but that's how it always ends up.
"Thanks," Theo says, voice still hoarse. She keeps walking, and as soon as she's gone, his smile drops again. He lowers his voice and looks back to Seamus. "Can we just go? Please, can we go home?" He sounds on the verge of tears, like he's unsure of what the response will be. Seamus tucks some of his hair behind his ear.
"Teddy, of course." He's beyond worried now. Theo stands, and Seamus is about to make a joke when Theo's eyes roll back. Then he's falling. Seamus is frozen for a second before he makes a desperate grab for his arm. It doesn't help. He's limp, and though Seamus manages to break his fall somewhat, he's on the ground. "Theo!"
A crowd starts to gather almost immediately, and Seamus's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his throat.
Theo's eyes are already fluttering open again, but in contrast to how flushed he was a minute ago, he's gray-pale now. A soft noise escapes his chapped lips.
There's a medic kneeling beside them now, and Seamus lays his hand on Theo's chest. Theo's hand clumsily finds his, fingers still trembling. Seamus's hand is shaking too.
"You with us, Theodore?" the medic asks, and Theo nods, starting to push himself up. Both Seamus and the medic simultaneously ease him back down. "Whoa, take it slow. Just relax for a minute. I'm gonna take your blood pressure, alright?"
Theo nods again, his eyes falling closed.
The crowd is murmuring, and another medic arrives. They exchange a few words before he goes to work too. Taking his temperature, his blood oxygen, his pulse. The whole time, Seamus is sick to his stomach. He just tries to focus on the feeling of Theo's chest rising and falling beneath his palm.
Finally, they sit him up and he opens his eyes and the first thing he does is lean his forehead down onto Seamus's shoulder. He's still holding his hand, and Seamus squeezes it tight. He's also still extremely warm, and Seamus really wants to ask the medic what his temperature was.
"Dehydrated?" he asks instead, and the medic tilts his head as if to say "sort of." He stands and starts to talk to Emma, who looks more stressed out than concerned. Seamus tries to make out what they're saying, but he can't quite. He knows it's more than dehydration. Something is wrong, and Emma knows. The medic knows. Everyone knows but him. And it's making his blood boil.
"Shay, please, I wanna go home," Theo whispers, his lips hot and dry against Seamus's throat. His face is tucked in the crook of Seamus’s neck. His pleading, soft voice brings Seamus back down, and he's able to shift his focus.
"I know," he whispers back. He rubs his back, and Theo hums. "When did you start feeling sick?"
"I'm fine. Please just get me the fuck out of here." He's obviously not fine, but now isn't the time to argue the obvious. The second medic returns with a bottle of Pedialyte and a straw, which Seamus hands to Theo.
"What's - Do you know…?" he asks, and he doesn't miss the way the medic's eyes dart over to Emma before he answers. It relights the fire in his stomach.
"Low blood pressure from dehydration. Once he drinks that he should be good to go," he says, and leaves before Seamus can ask anything else.
"Maybe we could get you an IV?" Seamus asks, and Theo shakes his head.
"Seamus, please just get me home. Please."
"Ok."
He texts the driver to pull around and a flags down a PA to grab them a golf cart. He has to practically hold Theo up as they get into the cart, and as soon as they sit down, he presses his too warm body against Seamus's.
It's the same story for the car, and as soon as the door shuts and they're on their way, Theo lets out a heavy sigh.
"What's going on?" Seamus finally asks, and Theo tucks his head back against his shoulder.
“Tough show,” he mumbles, and when Seamus's silence indicates he isn't satisfied with that explanation, he sighs "I feel like shit.”
"I can tell." He presses his lips to Theo's temple, and is sure beyond a shadow of a doubt he has a fever. "How long?"
"Long time," Theo says. Seamus has so many questions he can't even get one out.
"You've been sick?" He finally asks. Theo nods. "How… What is it?"
"My throat,” he murmurs, and Seamus brings his hand to Theo’s throat, feeling under his jaw. Sure enough, his glands are swollen, and when he brushes his fingertips over them Theo stiffens.
“Baby,” Seamus breathes out, and Theo shakes his head weakly.
“It's not that bad.” Again, Seamus doesn't need to say anything for Theo to get the message. “Ok, well it's better. It's getting better.”
Finally, Seamus asks the question that's been bothering him the most.
“Why didn't you say anything?”
Theo takes a breath like he's about to speak, but the sound of his phone ringing cuts him off. Seamus is about to tell him to leave it, but Theo is already pulling it up to his ear.
“Hey,” his weak voice says, and though Seamus can hear someone speaking on the other end, he can't make out who. Eventually, he just hands the phone over to Seamus.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Seamus. You guys are headed back to Brooklyn?” It's Zeke, Theo's manager.
“Yeah, we’re on the bridge.” He pauses, staring out the window.
“Ok, that's fine, we were all just wondering where you guys went. Especially since he passed out, we wouldn't - well… It's just good you're getting him home.”
“Tell me what's been going on,” Seamus says, and Theo makes a small sound of protest beside him.
“Seamus,” he whispers, as if pleading with him to drop it.
“Realistically, we can’t cancel every time-” Zeke starts.
“Zeke!” Seamus snaps, incredulous.
“I care about him just as much as you, but what has to be done has to be done.” Even he doesn’t sound fully convinced.
“Spare me,” Seamus spits back.
“Shay, please,” Theo murmurs, and Seamus takes a deep breath.
“Just tell me everything.”
He didn’t have to carry Theo in from the car, but he certainly had to carry him upstairs. He’s exhausted, not even to mention the fever he's running. Someone in perfect health would be exhausted after the tour schedule Theo has.
He’s had some kind of throat infection for at least the last month, and he's been doped up on painkillers and antibiotics nonstop for the last two weeks. In the interest of keeping him on stage they've had a doctor shooting him up with Prednisone before each show. If it wasn't for the steroid shots he likely wouldn't be able to talk, let alone sing.
Seamus always knew deep down the label would do anything to keep their tour rolling. But he never imagined it would come to this. Performing with a throat injury is playing with fire, it’ll be a miracle if his voice doesn’t need serious rehab. For now though, Seamus is just focused on trying to make the best of the situation at hand.
Theo is sitting on the edge of their bed, flushed and shivering, while Seamus slowly helps him out of his sweat damp clothes. As he goes, he presses kisses to Theo’s overheated skin, slowly and reverently. Theo melts under him, pushing himself as close as he can get.
The way he’s pressing closer, the sounds he’s making - it all says he wants things to go further, but Seamus knows that would be ill advised at best, disastrous at worst, so when Theo’s fully undressed he pulls away.
Still, he leaves one hand on Theo’s head, the other on his shoulder.
“I’m gonna go make some tea, alright?” Seamus says, and Theo gives him such a miserable look Seamus almost wants to forget it and just lie down with him right now. He runs his thumb over Theo’s temple. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
He kisses his forehead before heading back downstairs to the kitchen. He can’t decide whether he’s more livid or worried out of his mind.
A month. He’s been sick for a month, and he didn’t tell Seamus. Seamus imagines him in fancy hotel rooms trying to sleep with a soaring fever. All by himself. Shivering, aching after a two and a half hour show. It’s enough to make Seamus want to punch a hole in the wall.
While he’s making the tea, he schedules an appointment with Theo’s doctor and his ENT for tomorrow morning. He’ll need to dig through Theo’s bag to find his antibiotics, not that they seem to be doing any good.
The last call he makes is to Emma. While the line rings, his jaw is clenched so hard it hurts.
“Hey there, Seamus,” she says when she picks up.
“Hey there, Emma,” he says, barely holding himself back. “I was just calling to let you know we’ll need to be rescheduling the next week of shows. So that’s…” He squints at his notebook. “The next two nights in Edison, then Boston, Philly, and Pittsburgh.”
There’s a long silence. So long he almost thinks she hung up.
“Ok, Seamus. I understand you’re concerned for him. We’re all concerned for him. We all want what’s best for his health.”
“Emma,” he starts, just barely contained.
“We’ve discussed this in the past, and I’ve explained to you time and time again that he is an adult. He does not need you coming to his rescue, especially when you don’t have the full story. He’s perfectly capable of telling us himself if he’s too unwell to perform. Frankly, I think your behavior -”
“That is such fucking bullshit, and you know it.”
“Please,” she sounds bored more than anything, and that’s only making him angrier. “Can I explain?”
“How he lost 15 pounds in a month? Why he can’t stand up without blacking out? Why I wasn’t told about any of this?”
“You’re his boyfriend. Not his mother, not his husband - his boyfriend. And maybe the question you should be asking is why he didn’t tell you.”
Seamus’s fists are clenched so hard he feels his fingernails digging into his palms. He forces himself to relax. He takes a deep breath before continuing, fighting to keep his voice even.
“The bottom line is he’s not showing up for the next week. So do whatever you need to do, this isn’t a discussion.”
“Maybe you should discuss this with Theo before you break his contracts for him,” she says, her tone more grave. Of course now that her money is on the line it’s suddenly very serious.
“Goodbye, Emma.”
He wants to throw his phone. But the tea is done and Theo is upstairs waiting for him, so he takes another deep breath and heads back up.
When he walks in the doorway to their bedroom his heart nearly breaks in half. Theo's curled under the comforter shivering, breathing like he's trying not to cry.
Seamus doesn't hesitate in getting closer - they've been apart too long. He pulls Theo into his lap and strokes his hair, trying to not let how overheated he feels overwhelm him.
He's on fire with a fever, and it doesn't help that what little Pedialyte he drank has probably burned off already.
“Seamus,” he murmurs, like it's the only word he knows.
“I made you some tea,” Seamus says softly, and Theo makes a soft sound. “I'm gonna grab the thermometer and some ibuprofen and I'll be right back, ok?” He feels Theo nod, so he maneuvers his way out from under him and into their ensuite.
In addition to the thermometer and medication, he soaks a washcloth in some lukewarm water. When he gets back, Theo's half sitting up, taking hesitant sips of the tea, eyebrows furrowed.
Seamus climbs onto the bed next to him and presses the damp cloth to Theo’s forehead.
“I love you so much,” Theo whispers, and his voice sounds even worse than it did an hour ago. Seamus just kisses his cheek. He brings the thermometer up, and doesn't need to say a word for Theo to open his mouth obediently.
They sit there in silence as they wait for the reading, Seamus combing his sweaty hair out with his fingers. He’s terrified to see what his temperature actually is, and tries not to panic when he reads “102.8”
“Why didn't you tell me?” He finally asks.
Theo presses his chapped lips into a line and sighs. Seamus draws the damp washcloth down the side of his throat, then down his sternum.
“You know I would've dropped everything. I would've been on the first flight,” Seamus says, and Theo’s trembling fingers wrap around his wrist. They're so unnaturally warm.
“That's exactly why I didn't tell you, Shay.”
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astroboots · 1 year
Note
omg im sorry you’re not feeling too well! i hope you heal fast! and also i’m glad your back! may i please request joel x f!reader, maybe a moment for joel realized the domestic moment between him and the love of his life? could be she’s making him dinner after him being out all day? he gets all flustered n shit and shows his affection to her? 🧚🏼‍♀️
What's in a Name?
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Author's name: Thank you for the well wishes nonny that's so kind of you!!!! Sorry that this is a little bit different from what you requested. My concentration today is all over the place and this did its own thing.
Content: Pre-breakout Joel! Fluff, baby naming. This is not my normal repertoire for those who tune in regularly.
Astroboot’s Masterlist
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"What about Jessica?"
The image of a shiny pearl teethed smile, framed by blonde curls, chewing her gum as she twirls her hair with her index finger flashes before his eyes as Joel is standing before the sink, elbows deep in dishwasher.
Jessica-- a girl he dated back in his high school, dumped him a week before prom and Joel ended up having to take his and Tommy's cousin to save face. Yeah... not Jessica.
Joel bites down on his jaw, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. If he keeps going at it at his molars are going to grind to dust in the near future, and he'll be damned if Tommy gets to gloat about the state of his teeth when he's barely in his mid twenties.
"No," he answers curtly, and he hands you the scrubbed plate that you gracefully accept and dry with the damp towel.
"Crystal?" you ask.
"Hell no."
You tuck away the plate into its rightful place in the cupboard, tip-toeing to reach the highest shelf and he reminds himself that he will have to call in Tommy to help adjust the shelf to lower them by a handful of inches so it'll easier for you to reach before you're too far along.
"What's wrong with Crystal?"
"That's a stripper's name. We're not naming our daughter that. A name is supposed to be aspirational, I don't want my daughter to aspire to be shaking her ass on a stage for cash."
You grumble and mutter something indecipherable under your breath that rhymes with seabass.
"Fine, what about Melody."
Joel sighs, he swears you're doing this on purpose. "No. Not Melody. Melody is my hoarder aunt who permanently smells like cat pee. That's not the name of my future daughter."
"You're being very difficult, Joel Miller." You huff, turning away from him and back to the counter. He watches you from the corner of your eye as you flip through a book, nose scrunching up as your eyes flit over the the page in scrutiny.
You hum considerately, and flip another page, finger dragging down the page before you finally stop and tap the paper. "Oh," you say matter-of-factly, "what about Sarah?".
Joel wants to laugh. Has to bite down the grin that's starting to curve on his lip. You think you're so slick. You think he hasn't seen the name scribbled down in notebooks left open on the kitchen table. That he hasn't spotted even from this distance that it's the only name that you had circled in with think pencil in the name book. That he doesn't know from the very start that this had been your first and only choice for the name, and he plays dumb to the fact that all these other questionable names were thrown at him as decoy to tactically position your actual choice as the most reasonable and optimal option.
He drags his eyes over your form. The way you're trying to stand still and not give your excitement away. The way your shoulders practically vibrate with eagerness. The way your eyes are glittering in the dim amber light of the kitchen. Your fingers still resting on the page of the book, your little finger curling around the edge of the hardcover. The same finger you've got him wrapped around and do your every bidding, even if he pretends otherwise.
Pulling his arms from the water, he flicks off the water before he grabs a towel to dry his hands. "Hmmm." He tips his head, feigning complete ignorance. "What does the name mean?"
"It's from the bible. Means princess. That's beautiful isn't it? No exes, no strippers, no crazy cat aunts. What do you say?"
You put down the book, smiling brightly at him, clearly knowing what his answer is going to be already.
He's not even going to point out how you've completely given yourself away by mentioning that you knew Jessica is an ex without him telling you so. Because yeah, you got him entirely, wrapped around your little finger.
"Sure honey. Sarah sounds good."
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Request a Joel Miller Mini Drabble
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