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lokischocolatefountain · 1 month

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Denial || Men Like Me

Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 10.4k Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .

“Long day, huh?”

“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey.

“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance.

“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.

“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.”

Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great.

There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there.

Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process.

You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook.

Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom?

Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.

You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.

The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were.

You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter.

He never came.

You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity?

Naive, stupid girl.

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you.

You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you.

Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.

Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.

Not anymore.

You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.

As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch.

Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time.

You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again.

Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.

⌘

“How are the windows lookin’?”

“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.”

“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.”

Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.

Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.

No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family.

“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”

A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them.

If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.

Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.

“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past.

Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy.

“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood.

He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment.

You were so young.

Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself.

Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?

“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.”

Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful.

Not meant for men like him.

Yet he went the next day.

The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried.

Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.

“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.”

“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested.

“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.”

“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.”

“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves.

“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this.

“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved.

Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”

It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips.

Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane.

The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.

You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire.

A virgin, too.

His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope.

He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.

You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess.

It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman.

It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.

You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room.

He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’.

He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you.

On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel. The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.

It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly.

He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.

⌘

“Cool jacket, dude!”

“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.”

“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends.

He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good.

Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.

You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it.

He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front.

“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.

You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”

“You’ve never come here, so I thought…”

“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.

“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once.

Shit. He probably already thought that.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”

You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.

The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch.

You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house.

But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new.

“No decorations, huh?”

“What?”

“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.

“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.”

“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.”

Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans.

“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern.

“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself.

Touched yourself and moaned his name.

“Upstairs, second door to the left.”

You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat.

You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you.

He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy.

Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him.

You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake!

Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation.

You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you.

The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel.

You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate.

You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying.

You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch.

Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time.

As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever.

You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.

Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense.

This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties.

So he wanted you.

If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties.

You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same?

Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head.

He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.

“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!”

“What?”

“Come up here!”

“What happened?”

“Just come here.”

You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom.

“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.

“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”

You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use.

“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel.

He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.”

“Maybe I want you to do this again…”

“You don’t. Trust me.”

“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?”

You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.

“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ”

“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb.

He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable.

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.”

“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again.

“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.”

“Mhmm.”

“Show me how you did it.”

“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Show. Me. How you did it.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”

You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down.

He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness.

“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response.

“Take your clothes off.”

It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done.

You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized.

“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.”

The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof.

He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him.

When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.

“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze.

“Kneel.”

You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up.

“On the floor.”

One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did.

“You look pretty on your knees.”

He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there.

“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.”

Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent.

Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity.

Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.”

No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little.

Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.

You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.

“I’m not backing out.”

“First time seeing one?”

“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?”

“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.”

You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.”

You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?”

“No.”

“Then get back on your fucking knees.”

You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fuck! That fucking word again.

“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.

Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then.

“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in.

“What are you begging for?”

“You. Y-your penis.”

“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”

“Your cock, Sir.”

“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you.

“Did…? Did you?”

“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past.

He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place.

“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.”

You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.

“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”

He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.”

To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.”

“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.”

There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.

“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.”

You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.”

Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length.

“Ask me for it.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what?”

“P-please fuck my face. Sir.”

He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire.

He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses.

But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson.

Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.

He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now.

You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released.

He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back.

But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy.

He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room.

He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before.

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!”

“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…”

“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.”

“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit.

“What was that?”

You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural.

“Joel…”

“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face.

“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?”

There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt.

You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly.

He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand.

“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”

As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.

⌘

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heavenlyhischier · 3 months

Text

𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞)

word count: 6k

summary: from the moment you met nico hischier, you were enchanted by him.

warnings: platonic!jack x reader, unrequited love (?), sorts angsty, drinking, slight jealous nico, trevor x reader implied but for like literally a second, unedited

note: this is very prologue-esque and more of a background to the actual story so yeah. questions, comments, concerns are always welcome

Being five years old and one of the only kids on your street wasn’t exactly fun, but when the Hughes family bought the neighboring house and your mom told you that they had three sons, you were over the moon. You didn’t care that they were all boys, you were just glad to have potential friends that you could play with, even if it meant learning how to play a sport. However, no one ever expected you to become attached to the hip of Jack Hughes, and him to yours.

From the moment you met, he was your best friend. He included you in everything, taught you how to play street hockey, and he even yelled at his brothers if they were being a little mean to you. People often told the two of you that you were destined to get married, but neither of you agreed. You both knew you were always going to be by each other’s side, just as best friends, for as long as you lived. Even years later, and a few relocations, the two of you were never far from each other.

OCT 2019

“Jack, are you sure they don’t mind me coming,” You asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, “I don’t want to intrude on your team thing.”

You leaned forward over the center console so you could look at Jack, ignoring Ty’s quiet chuckles as he drove to his teammates house. Nerves crawled across your skin as the thought of meeting his teammates slowly inched closer to reality. This was different from meeting his friends from World Juniors; these were professional hockey players making more money than you could ever dream of. Your eyes were wide and swimming with worry as Jack turned to look at you, his lips turned up in a smile as he shook his head.

“It’s fine,” He said your name through a breathy laugh, “I promise. Besides, they all really want to meet you.”

“And see if he’s lying about you not being his girlfriend,” Ty added, casting you a playful wink before turning back to the road.

“Yeah, that too,” Jack feigned annoyance as you rolled your eyes, “But mostly they just want to meet the person I talk to all the time.”

With Jack’s reassurance, you leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes, trying to bring your heart rate back to a normal speed. The sounds of the city faded into a hum as you relaxed into the cool leather of the Range Rover, trying to clear your mind of the anxious thoughts that plagued you any time you were to meet new people. Jack being by your side brought comfort, but that unfortunately didn’t stop the knots from twisting in your stomach.

What if they didn’t like you? What if you embarrassed yourself in front of them? What if Jack stopped talking to you because you didn’t fit in? That thought alone made you want to hurl in the backseat of the car, but the feeling of the car stopping followed by seatbelts unbuckling tore you away from the insecurities and back to reality.

Ty and Jack shared a look with each other as you stared at the house, gripping the edge of the seat like you were about to fall out of it. Ty hops out of the car and makes a beeline straight for the house, while Jack opens your door and gently grabs your wrist, tugging your body out of the car. He’s known you long enough to know that you would talk your way out of going inside if he gave you the opportunity, so he didn’t.

“C’mon, they’re gonna like you, I promise,” He tried as the two of you walked towards the door, “Plus, they probably want to ask you how you’ve put up with me for so long.”

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, pushing back the feeling of being a foreigner amongst hockey stars and their girlfriends. You didn’t want to ruin your only chance at a first impression because you were nervous, so you put up the best facade you could as Jack pushed the door open. He glanced at you one last night, jerking his head as a signal for you to go before him, and you did.

People you’ve only seen in pictures were scattered across the house, only a few of them breaking conversations to glance at you. Those who did, were instantly on their feet and making their way towards you with beaming smiles and a teasing glint to their eyes. You forced yourself to let go of the fabric of your dress that you had been crumbling between your fists, extending your hand to meet who you knew to be Andy, thanks to what you’ve seen on twitter.

“Hey guys! You must be Y/N,” He greeted, carefully shaking your hand, “It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Andy and this is my wife, Rachel.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” You grinned as you swapped his hand with his wife’s, hoping that your own wasn’t damp with sweat, “Thank you so much for including me.”

“Any friend of Jack’s is a friend of ours,” Andy stressed the word, brows slightly lifting as he glanced between the two of you.

“Well, I truly appreciate it,” You laughed, “Jack’s more like an annoying brother, so it’ll be nice to know other people in the city.”

Jack stayed close enough to your side as some of his teammates slowly filtered towards him, greeting them in their own ways before they moved to introduce themselves to you. You slowly felt the weight lift from your shoulders as they treated you with nothing but kindness and like you were no different than them. You’d barely been able to move from the door since your arrival, too busy making introductions and brushing off comments about Jack being your boyfriend.

Then, you watched as a guy who was easily the most attractive person you’d ever seen in your life approached you with kind eyes and a gentle smile. He had his hair tucked underneath a backwards cap, his body clad with dark jeans and a tan shirt that hung loosely over his frame. You forced yourself to look away, eyes darting to the floor as you, once again, grasped at the fabric of your dress. Jack takes notice to the way your body language shifts, and a coy smile toys at his lips, but he knows now isn’t the time to tease you.

“Hi, I’m Nico,” He reaches his hand out to you once he’s standing right in front of you.

His eyes were brown; the kind of brown that reminded you of fresh soil in a blooming garden. His voice was deep and accented in a way that enveloped you like a warm and comforting blanket. His touch made your heart race and nerves bubble in your chest as you take his hand in your own. It was weird how quickly you felt yourself become attracted to someone you quite literally just met, but you were going to keep it to yourself for as long as you could.

“Hi,” You shyly introduce yourself, the hair on your arm raising, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” He smiled, dimples denting his cheeks in a way that almost sent you to your knees.

You dropped his hand, your own falling to your side, and you swear you saw Nico drag his eyes up and down the length of your body. Suddenly regretting your outfit choice, you cleared your throat and turned away from him and towards Jack, who had been watching the interaction with an amused smile. You narrowed your eyes at him, earning a laugh as he shook his head.

Your head snapped towards the large group of people when you heard your name being called, “Why don’t you come tell us how you’ve managed to put up with Jack for so long?”

NOV 2020

Going back home for American thanksgiving was thrown off the table the second Toronto had one of its biggest storms in years. The airport, and many surrounding others, were shut down with an undetermined date of reopening due to so much damage. With your mom being American, your family celebrated both Canadian and American thanksgiving, but your school schedule only allowed you time to go back home in November, and you’d been looking forward to it for months. The second your mom called you with the news, you couldn’t help but deflate in disappointment.

When Jack found out you were missing the holiday with your family, he immediately extended an invite for his team party to you. It wasn’t going to be much, he had said, just some of the wives and their girlfriends, including his own, having dinner. You initially declined the offer, telling him you didn’t want to third wheel, but it wasn’t until Jack’s girlfriend showed up at your apartment door to get ready with you that you truly realized how badly you wanted to go.

“Thank you,” You said for the hundredth time, smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt before following her out the door.

“Stop thanking me,” She playfully rolled her eyes, “No one should have to be alone on Thanksgiving, and Jack agreed when I suggested I come over and “make” you come with us.”

Knowing that she came on her own accord made tears line your eyes, and it made you feel welcome. Out of all of his previous relationships, none of them ever made you feel comfortable like she did. They all tried to force you out of his life because they were convinced you were in love with him or vice versa, but not Ava. Ava was gentle and she was kind, and you had no idea how Jack managed to pull her.

You followed her out of your apartment building and to the parking spot Jack’s car was occupying. You slid into the backseat, responding to Jack’s greeting with one of your own as Ava put all of her stuff in the trunk. Once everyone was buckled in and ready to go, Jack set off to whoever’s house the dinner was being hosted at and the three of you fell into natural conversation, making the drive there fly by.

You helped them carry the food they brought inside, poking fun at Jack because you knew he didn’t cook any of it. He insisted he was actually a phenomenal chef, but you were quick to remind him of the undercooked chicken from the week prior, and he went silent. When you walked inside, you were shocked to see so many of the guys and their significant others spread throughout the house. Most of them weren’t from the states, and you fully expected them to be home, but you supposed they couldn’t pass up the bonding opportunity.

You followed the couple into the kitchen, listening to Ashlee’s instruction of where to set the tray of desserts in your arms. When you turned to follow after Jack and Ava to go mingle with some of the others, you ran straight into the chest of the one person you didn’t want to be alone with.

Nico’s hands carefully grasped your biceps to keep you steady as your hands instinctively flew to his chest. The feeling of his calm heartbeat underneath your palms was a stark contrast to your own as it slammed into your ribcage and your thoughts became hazy underneath his heavy stare. You swallowed thickly, slowly craning your neck to meet his eyes. He had a smile plastered on his face, his facial hair reduced to nothing but stubble now, as his dark eyes gazed into your own.

“Careful, ” He teased as his thumbs rubbed subtle circles against you, making your skin light on fire.

“I didn’t know you were right there,” You mumbled, your cheeks growing warm at the unfamiliar nickname as your fingers slightly scrunched the fabric of his shirt.

“I could tell,” He laughed, “I didn’t know you were coming today. I figured you would go back to your family.”

You couldn’t help but let your shoulders slump at the mention of your family, your eyes falling to the ground as you dropped your hands and pinched at the hem of your shirt, “I was supposed to, but the weather is too bad for planes right now. So, I stayed here instead.”

Nico, noticing the shift in your demeanor, dropped his hands down to your elbows, squeezing them gently as he spoke, “I’m sorry. Being away from family is not easy, but helps to focus on the people around you. That’s what I do when I miss home.”

You tried to cover your pathetic sniffle by clearing your throat, but he picked up on it anyway. Nico was quick to pull you into his chest, his arms wrapping around your upper body as you instinctively wrapped your own around his waist. His embrace was warm and it was safe as silent tears slid down your cheeks, your hold tightening ever so slightly.

While you wouldn’t say you were the closest with Nico, he had grown to be someone you considered a friend during your time in Jersey. He always treated you with nothing short of kindness and respect, and that didn’t help the ever growing crush you had on him. You occasionally let yourself believe that his lingering touches and flirty comments meant something, but you were always quick to slap yourself out of it. You knew better, or you thought that you did.

“Let’s go out there and enjoy the dinner,” Nico suggested as he pulled away from you, voice soft and gentle, “You can sit with some of us at the “singles table”.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You shyly smiled as you wiped at your cheeks to get rid of the any evidence of your sadness.

You sit with Nico and a few others at what he dubbed the “singles table”, which was really the couch closest to the door, mingling and laughing as they talked about whatever came to mind. Though, it was a little hard for you to focus with Nico’s thigh pressed against your own and his arm slung across the back cushion behind you. To make matters worse, every time he leaned forward to grab his drink, he would delicately place his hand on your knee, and it made your body light on fire.

Jack noticed the two of you walk out of the kitchen together, subtly elbowing his girlfriend as he watched you sit on the couch. She watched with wide, adoring eyes as gushing whispers of how cute the two of you would be filled Jack’s ears. When he met your gaze, he passed you a teasing wink, laughing when your face flushed and shook your head, forcing your eyes away from his own.

When it was time to eat, everyone filtered over to the multiple plastic tables that had been pushed together to make one long one. You made sure to take the seat next to Ava before anyone else could, and Nico took the spot on the other side of you. You ignored her stifled giggles and the way Jack raised his eyebrows, choosing to keep yourself occupied with passing along the various items being handed across the group of people.

Loud voices filled the room as a few of the guys brought the food out, setting the large turkey in the middle of the table with sides surrounding it. You fawned over the mashed potatoes with Ava, but Nico pulled your attention away when he pointed at the green bean casserole with his face twisted in disgust and asked what it was. She subtly elbowed you in the side, silently teasing you as your face flushed and your eyes brightened the moment you looked at him.

“It looks,” He paused, his eyes flitting down to you, “Unappealing.”

“Don’t worry,” You laughed, as you smoothed the napkin in your lap, “I don’t like it either, but it’s unfortunately a staple for the holiday. You should try it. It might surprise you.”

“Maybe. That’s happening a lot lately,” His voice trailed into a whisper, his eyes darting to his plate in front of him as he shifted in his seat.

You tried not to read too much into what he said or his actions following, choosing to instead fall into conversation with the others around you. Everyone ate, joked, and told stories of their life before Jersey, and it made the time fly by. Before you could really grasp it, everyone was packing up their things and helping clean the house before they departed for the evening. You and Ava assisted a few of the wives and girlfriends with the dishes, wanting to get them done so Ashlee didn’t have to worry about them tomorrow.

Once the house was cleaner than it was when everyone arrived, people started to filter out the front door after bidding those still present a goodbye. A few still stood off in corners and mingled with each other, waving at those who called their names as they slipped out of the door. You held a small container in your hand as you followed Ava out of the kitchen, passing everyone smiles and side hugs as you went. Jack’s hovering near the door with a few of the guys, Nico included, waiting for the two of you.

“Ready,” Jack asks as he slings his arm across Ava’s shoulders, “We’re going to go back to mine and Ty’s place and hang out if you guys want to come.”

You watched the way Nico’s body stiffened, his eyes avoiding your own as he nervously cleared his throat, “I already have plans, but maybe next time.

“Yeah, he’s meeting up with Mia,” Miles dragged out her name, clapping Nico on the back as he teased his friend, “I’ll swing by though. I’m not doing anything.”

Ava and Jack didn’t miss the way your entire body sunk, your gaze falling to the floor as your hands tightly grasped at the container. You felt stupid for being so upset by the news, but you should’ve known better than to let yourself think that Nico’s flirting meant anything. You’d been surrounded by hockey players almost your whole life, you know that it was all fun and meaningless for them, and he was no exception.

“Alright,” Jack spoke, trying to shove some of the newfound anger towards his teammate down his throat, “We’ll meet you there. See you later, Nico.”

Nico couldn’t help but let his eyes land on you again, and it wasn’t hard to notice the way your demeanor had changed. The brightness in your eyes and smile were faint now as you waved goodbye to everyone behind you. Jack and his girlfriend didn’t bother to spare a second glance at him as they walked out of the house and out into the frigid New Jersey air, and neither did you.

SEPT 2021

With Jack finally moving out of Ty’s apartment and into his own this season, he decided to have his own version of a house warming party. He and Ava had broken up before the summer, neither of them wanting to do long distance since she was moving across the country for her new job. That left the decorating and most of the party planning to you, which you preferred anyways. If it was up to Jack, he’d slap a keg in the middle of his apartment, buy one bag of chips for everyone, and call it good.

The two of you spent the better part of the day cleaning his apartment and getting what little furniture and decorations he had put up around his place. He did, however, listen to your advice a lot better than you thought he would’ve, but you knew it was only because he was nervous about having everyone over in what was his first place to himself. He even went out and bought a few random decorative pictures to hang on the wall because he felt like it was too bland, but you replaced them with pictures he had of his family and friends, and of the team.

Hours later, Jack’s apartment was littered with people he’d met during his time in Jersey. Most you knew, some you didn’t, and others you didn’t want to thanks to their nasty sneers when you would talk to him. Being ridiculed by Jack’s relationships, a term you used very loosely, seemed to increase tenfold now that his fame consistently grew. For the most part, it didn’t bother you, but you did have to delete your original instagram account and start a whole new, private account to keep yourself a little sane.

You were in the kitchen getting yourself a new drink when you felt a presence weigh on your chest, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Ever since Thanksgiving last year, you avoided interacting with Nico unless you had to. It was over dramatic on your part, a fact Jack often reminded you of, but you were trying to shake off the feelings you had for him. You wanted to be able to act normal around him, and every time Nico even spoke to you, you were thrown back to square one.

“Hey,” His voice was right behind you, “How was your break?”

You spun on your heels, your shoulder brushing against his chest because he was that close to you, and nearly stopped breathing the moment you met his stare. He’d cut his hair over the summer and let his beard grow up more than usual, and the sight made you want to melt. Guilt pitted in your stomach as you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t think about him like that anymore. It wasn’t fair.

“It was nice,” You mumbled, internally pleading with yourself to step away from him, “How was yours?”

“Yeah, mine was nice, too,” He lightly chuckled as his danced across your face, “So, I was wondering if you—”

“There you are,” Jack shouted as he pushed into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks as his eyes darted between the two of you, his eyebrows raising, “Matt just got here. He’s looking for you.”

Your mouth dropped open to respond, but Nico’s voice smothered your own, “Who’s Matt?”

The air in the kitchen thickened with an unknown tension, Nico’s stare returning to you as he watched your chest rapidly rise and fall. Your eyes were wide, pleading with Jack who looked just as lost as you were after he walked in on his best friend and now captain only centimeters apart. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and side step away from Nico before letting out a deep sigh.

“He’s my boyfriend,” You mutter, quickly walking away from the two men to go find the aforementioned boyfriend.

“What was that about,” You heard Jack ask, his tone slightly accusatory and clipped.

“Nothing.”

The rest of the night, you stayed glued to Matt’s side, letting him gush about how he was surrounded by his hometown hockey team. You found yourself searching for Nico more often than you cared to admit, but what was shocking to you was that he was already looking at you every. single. time. The moment your eyes would meet his, you willed yourself to look away from him and focus on the guy whose arm you were tucked under, but you couldn’t. He had you locked in.

To make matters worse, when the two of you managed to finally end up in the same circle of people that Nico was in, he was anything but nice to Matt. His usual gentle tone was replaced with short, harsh cords anytime he spoke to your boyfriend. It shocked you enough that you wanted to leave the party entirely, but Matt didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Thanks for having me, man,” Matt expressed, his face bright with excitement, “Hopefully I’ll see you guys again sometime soon!”

You broke up with him a week later.

DEC 2022

This last year was eventful, to say the least. You were in the hardest year of college, spending more time stuck in the library with a new group of friends as you all studied until your brains were fried to even pass junior year. When summer came, you went to Michigan with Jack like you always did, and you even had a very short and meaningless fling with Trevor. Though if Jack were to ask, nothing happened.

When you returned to school that September, you had an entirely new outlook on life. You were tired of trying to have a plan for everything, you were tired of holding on to things that weren’t good for you. You were going to lead your life with the intention of taking care of yourself, building yourself up instead of tearing yourself down because of others.

The moment Jack had called you to ask if you would be interested in tagging along with a few of his teammates for New Years Eve, you instantly agreed. The semester was a little stressful, yet still nothing compared to last year, and you hadn’t had much time to see Jack let alone go out. So when the opportunity presented itself to you, you were more than happy to oblige.

The bar was loud, the air sticky and damp as bodies pressed against each other and alcohol spilled onto the floor. You held on to Charlie’s hand as you shoved your way through until you could see the group of boys that were shoved in the same corner they always were. They were huddled in a circle, some of their bodies shielding you from seeing who all was there, but you knew you’d find out who was there soon enough.

“Hey guys,” You yelled over the mixture of loud music and voices, earning the attention from those in the group.

Jack was immediately pulling you into his chest as everyone called out your name in a greeting, tipsy smiles and slightly glazed over eyes already adorning their faces. When you finally escaped the arms of your best friend, a few of the others replaced him and tugged you into their side as you introduced Charlie, who looked slightly overwhelmed, to everyone. You were relaxed and carefree as you fell into conversation with the others, and then you saw him.

You hadn’t really spoken to Nico over the last year, only really speaking to him in formal pleasantries and passing comments about Jack. After his treatment towards your boyfriend ultimately led to you breaking up with him, you withdrew your affections and excessive kindness towards him. You treated him the same way you treated all of Jack’s other teammates, maybe even a little less kinder if you were being honest, and he didn’t even seem to notice.

His lips turned upwards into a careful smile as he tipped his drink towards you in greeting. You gave him a small smile in return before you forced your attention back to Charlie, but you still felt his gaze on you. You could always tell when it was him because it made the hairs on your arms raise; it made your heart rapidly beat inside of your chest even before you even knew it was him.

He didn’t try and approach you at all during the duration of the night, but you hadn’t expected him to. You stuck by Charlie’s side most of the night, not letting her too far out of your sight, and one of the guys was never too far behind either of you. Jack made sure that either himself or his teammates had an eye on you at all times, knowing that the holiday caused people to act out, and he didn’t want anything to happen to you.

It was five minutes till the clock would hit midnight, and you were huddled in the corner with everyone after dancing for what seemed like hours. You had a new drink in your hand, Dawson’s arm slung around your shoulders, and a tipsy smile on your face as everyone mingled with each other. Jack had snuck off with Charlie somewhere a while ago, and you were not naive enough to go searching for them, so you stuck by the group of hockey players and their partners.

Despite Nico not uttering a single word to you the entire night, you felt the burn from his stare almost the whole time. You avoided looking in his direction, knowing that you would fall back into the enchantment that was Nico Hischier after working so hard to break free from it. You were focusing on things that brought you peace, and Nico brought you anything but.

“Guys, a minute left til midnight,” Shara shouted over the music, “Where is Jack?”

“Occupied,” You and Dawson called out at the same time before falling into laughter.

Those with partners pulled them closer to them, smiles on their faces and giggles falling from their lips as the music cut out and a countdown started. You accidentally met Nico’s eyes as your gaze wandered, and the way he was white knuckling his drink made confusion settle in your chest. Though, you didn’t have much time to dwell on it when you heard Dawson’s soft voice call your name.

“What do you say,” He raised his eyebrows, asking the question bouncing through his brain without outright saying it, “Just as friends, of course.”

With the crowds of people counting down from ten around you, you playfully rolled your eyes, but turned your body more towards him anyways. Kissing Dawson was not going to mean or change anything between the two of you, so you figured there was no harm in doing it. The moment the clock hit one second, you stood on your toes and pressed your lips against his until an eruption of cheers filled the bar.

It was short and simple, both of you pulled away from each other when laughter escaped through your lips. You let him pull you back into his side while everyone was pulling each other into hugs or clapping each other on the back. However, you were so focused on everyone else around you, that you missed the way Nico was glaring daggers into his younger teammates skull.

A few days later, you’re sitting at the counter of Jack’s apartment after his practice earlier that day. He was rambling on about their upcoming game against the Red Wings, shuffling through his fridge in search of food. He pulled out a small container of what looked like leftover pasta, his hands flying around him as he spoke.

“You want to know what’s weird, though,” He called over his shoulder as he opened the microwave, “Nico’s been kind of a dick to Dawson since New Years, and no one can figure out why. It’s kind of messing with Mercs, too.”

You nearly choked on your coffee with the new information, your eyes widening as you attempted to catch your breath. Jack’s brows shot up as he watched you stumble over your words, your hands clawing at the counter top as you coughed. You tried to not let yourself get too hung up on the possibility that Nico didn’t like the fact that you kissed Dawson, that maybe he was jealous. You couldn’t let yourself dance back into that dangerous territory again.

“You good,” Jack asked, leaning forward to give you a curious look, “You know something I don’t?”

“No,” You rushed out, shaking your head, “No. I mean, I don’t think this would matter to him, but I did kiss Dawson that night at the bar.” The second the words left your mouth, Jack doubles over in laughter as if he knew something you didn’t

APRIL 2023

The air was calm and cool as you sat outside some coffee shop, waiting for Jack and Nico to come back with the drinks. You were scrolling through your phone, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you read through your twitter feed. You were so far deep into a thread that you hadn’t even heard the two guys take their seats at the table, or the way they snickered to each other when you didn’t budge as your name was called.

It took a careful kick to your shin from presumably Jack to break you away from your trance, your head snapping up as the device clattered on the table. They were looking at you with raised brows and small smiles as you awkwardly cleared your throat and straightened your back, grabbing your drink from Nico as he slid it across the table.

“Took you guys long enough,” You playfully mumbled, bringing the cup to your lips.

“I’m surprised you even noticed we were gone with how invested you were,” Nico teased, his voice light and airy as his eyes stayed trained on your face.

Over the last few months, you had grown closer with him yet again, but this time it was on the premise of you only treating him as a friend. He had approached you one evening after a night out, apologizing for his distance and lack of effort in conversation, nearly whining when he asked if you two could start over. While your crush was still very much present, you agreed on the reset and opted to treat him the same way you treated everyone else as a way to protect your own heart.

“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes as a light blush decorated your cheeks.

Jack calls your name as he glances up from his own phone, setting it down in front of him as he leans forward, “You’re coming to the lake house right? I know you’ve got most of the summer off from work.”

“Eventually,” You tear your eyes away from Nico, “Charlie’s wanting to go travel somewhere in Europe this summer for a little over a week, we just haven’t decided where.”

“Summer is in like, a month,” Jack points out, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yeah, trust me I know,” You groaned, throwing you head back in slight frustration, “I keep telling her we need to choose soon but she’s not sure where to go. She just knows she wants to go.”

“Come to Switzerland,” The words leave Nico’s mouth before he really registers he said it, though he doesn’t regret it either way, “I can show you around.”

Your eyes widen, snapping over to him as your jaw goes slack and your heart rate increases. You’re searching his face for any sign that what he said was a joke, that he wasn’t being serious, but all you were met with was his soft eyes and small smile that he always had. The fact that he appeared genuine in his suggestion made you nervous, it made your mind hazy and cloudy with mangled thoughts.

“Oh that’s a good idea,” Jack’s voice raised, a bright smile on his face, “I think you should do that. I know you’ll be safe with Nico, and I won’t freak out if you don’t text me back after ten minutes.”

“You still will,” You lightly laughed, “I mean, it sounds fun, but only if you’re sure? And I’ll have to ask Charlie, but I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“I’m sure. I’d love to show you around my home,” He beams, his leg slightly shifting so his calf brushes against your own.

Jack’s immediately rushing on about how he’ll call Charlie, and typically you’d tease him about that, but you were too focused on the man in front of you. The sun was hitting his face in a way that made his dark eyes shine brighter than anything around him, bringing you nothing but a warm blanket of comfort that overshadowed the rays of sun by a million miles. The effect Nico had on you slightly terrified you because you’d never felt this way towards anyone, but you were determined to keep that a secret for as long as you could. All you could do was hope and pray you could keep that up on a week long trip in his home country, the one place he truly felt relaxed and like himself.

stay tuned for pt two…

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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whokilledjared · 1 month

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the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

#scene #alternative #social media #social justice #instagram #college #coming of age #writing #blogpost #blog takes

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marlynnofmany · 5 months

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Finger Talking

Captain Sunlight had said that these clients didn’t speak any trade language she’d ever learned, and as I caught sight of the two intelligent being who looked like the end result of what happens if hummingbirds nudge into anteaters’ ecological niche, I didn’t find that hard to believe.

They were green-feathered, flightless birds, with long beaks, longer tongues, and clawed feet dexterous enough to type out messages on the big keyboard they had laid out on the ground. It looked like the kind of thing I would have danced on as a kid. I pretended that I wasn’t imagining doing that now, as the shorter of the two sent a message onto the display screen that they wanted to haggle.

Mur stepped forward, tapping my ankle with a tentacle to say he had it covered. “Oh, you want to pay more? Double price, please.”

The beaky birds were of course grumpy about this. The short one typed quickly in a fashion that I was amused to realize was hunt-and-peck.

I looked down at Mur, who was cheerfully braiding grass with two tentacles, and waving several others like he was conducting an invisible squid orchestra. He was enjoying himself.

The screen beeped that the message was ready. It read, “We know our rocks are valuable to you. Ten barrels of your rocks for each barrel of our rocks.”

Okay, I hadn’t actually known the price that had been set ahead of time for this little exchange. These folks didn’t use standard currency, so when they sent out a request via random traveler for someone to bring them coal — something that was scarce their planet — in trade for shiny rocks that they had in abundance, Captain Sunlight had gone for it.

And if the rough gemstones bedazzling the cart that these birds had come in were any sign, we were about to make a very good deal no matter what the exchange rate was.

Mur said, “Two for one is already pretty generous. I’ll raise it to three, how about that?”

The birds conferred with each other briefly, making noises that echoed like someone trilling their tongue down a long tube — which was a pretty accurate description of what was happening, really. The short one typed in a reply.

I caught a glimpse of “8 for 1” before the alien technology did what technology everywhere does best: it failed unexpectedly. The screen spasmed wild patterns before going dark, and no amount of punching the keys made it light up again.

“Hm,” Mur said to me. “This could put a crimp in things. Maybe we should call Coals or Trrili?”

“They mostly do written translation,” I said. “And Trrili doesn’t strike me as the tactful sort.”

Mur twirled a tentacle to say I’d made a good point, while the birds tried to revive their tech with no luck. “I guess we just throw out numbers until we hit on something they look happy with,” he said. “This is going to be rough.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” I said. “At least they’ve learned the language, even though they can’t speak it. Honestly, I’ve had worse conversations before my vet training covered Gorilla Sign Language.”

He looked up at the unfamiliar word. “Nationality?”

“Species. Long story. Remind me to tell you about Citizen Animals on Earth.”

The birds were starting to disassemble the keyboard casing, using their claws like precision tools (though the tall one gave me the impression that more vigorous smashing was an eagerly-anticipated Plan B). They looked up when I stepped forward, holding up fingers.

“Five for one.” I flicked the fingers one at a time to count. “Five of ours, for one of yours.”

They caught on immediately, and luckily for all of us, they had the right number of talon-fingers to make this primitive conversation work.

Mur was no help, standing two steps back and holding up excessive numbers of tentacles, entertaining only himself. The birds and I managed to ignore him.

We settled on seven-for-one. I could have pushed for six, but I felt bad for them, and anyway I knew that we had the coal already portioned out into fourteen crates. The math was easier this way.

As we walked back toward the ship, to start bringing out the crates that Blip and Blop were unloading at the door, Mur chuckled beside me. “That was fun. I want to come up with ways to communicate like that more. Maybe cheating at table games.”

“I’d offer to teach you some actual sign language,” I said, “But everything I know is designed with fingers in mind.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need proper language to beat the scales off Eggskin. C’mon, it’ll be great. I’ll win several rounds in a row, they’ll get annoyed and demand to know how, I’ll explain, then refuse to give any winnings back. Perfect plan. Great times.”

I had to smile at that. “We’ll see,” I said. “First let’s finish the actual business.”

“Yep, yep, can’t forget that,” Mur agreed. “Maybe we’ll play table games with expensive rocks as tokens, like the high-society snobs we all are.”

“Sounds like great times to me,” I said.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #technology doing what technology does best #fail unexpectedly #that part's my favorite line; no lie #sign language #in spaaace

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

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Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter Six: Crying Into A Cupcake

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader, Twin!JJ Maybank x reader

TW:pregnancy, slight angst, very brief mention of abuse, brief mention of addiction, so much fluff and cuteness, I think thats all

Summary: You, Rafe, and the pogues finally find out what youre having.

Word Count:3k

Things have settled down ever since Rafe confronted Ward a couple of weeks ago. It's been radio silence from the older Cameron, though Rose has tried to reach out a few times. She's even sent flowers, but her attempts at reconciliation have been ignored.

If there's one thing you've learned about that family, it's that there's always an angle. Maybe Rose really does feel bad, or maybe she's playing both sides of the field. There's no way to know, and it's not a risk either of you are willing to take.

Since Rafe's 'family' is out of the picture and your dad is obviously not in your life, that leaves the pogues. So when you and Rafe went to your appointment yesterday, you decided not to find out the genders just yet.

Instead, you had them send the results to a local bakery which is where you are now. Your friends don't know that they're finding out what you're having today, and your body is buzzing with excitement at the idea.

You've never been a big fan of gender reveal parties and even if you were, who is there to invite? Instead, you're opting for a small intimate affair with just Rafe and your found family. The nice older lady brings you your order; seven cupcakes that are dyed either all blue, all pink, or a combination.

You thank her with a smile after Rafe pays, and make the trek back to the truck. He helps you up since your belly is large enough now to cause issues. You're glad that the secret is about to be revealed because even though you're only fifteen weeks, the rate that you're growing is bound to start raising questions.

"Are you excited?"

Rafe smiles at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road and he squeezes your hand. The route to the chateau is second nature now since he's been staying there; ever since the altercation, he's refused to step foot back in Tannyhill.

You're not sure what's happening with the living situation, but JJ and John B have both insisted that you can just set up in the spare room and stay there. You're not quite sure how that could possibly work with Rafe practically moved in and two babies on the way, but you've written it off to be figured out later.

"Yeah, but I'm nervous too. What if they freak out?"

Rafe shoots you a glance and shrugs his shoulders, not at all concerned.

"They will at first, but based on how involved they already are, I'm guessing it'll quickly turn to happiness."

You sigh and nod, nerves eating at your mind.

"I hope so."

When the two of you arrive, everyone is already outside scattered around the yard. JJ is laying in the hammock with John B standing over him, Sarah and Kie are sitting on a log laughing about something, and Pope is off in his own little world reading a book.

The scene makes your heart swell as you watch all the people you love most in the world in one place, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Ready?" Rafe asks, and you turn to face him with a timid smile.

"As I'll ever be."

At that, you take a step forward and plaster on your best happy face.

"Hey, losers. You up for some dessert?"

Your voice draws their attention and they all face you with intrigued expressions. Sarah catches on first as she leaps to her feet with wide eyes and rushes forward.

She looks at the treats in Rafe's hand with swirled pink and blue icing on top and moves to snatch them from him.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Rafe quickly dodges her and holds them up over his head with a smirk.

"Sure is. Ready to find out what we're having?"

This successfully gets the rest of the pogues to join and JJ wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"I can't believe my little sister is having a kid."

You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin and push him off of you.

"Fuck off, JJ. You were born before me by two minutes."

You can't help but grin at his childlike laughter, and bump your shoulder into his. Sarah looks like she's about to explode as she bounces on the ball of her feet and stares at the plastic container.

"Can we please eat the cupcakes? I'm going to die."

You laugh at her pleading and nod at Rafe who starts handing them out.

"Okay, on the count of three everybody take a bite."

You wait for everyone to nod in understanding and take a deep breath before starting the countdown.

"Okay. One…two…three!"

You take a large bite and stare down at the blue with sparkling eyes before turning to Rafe. He's got a blue cupcake as well, and the two of you wait for everyones reactions. You figure JJ must also have blue when he lets out a loud cheer accompanied by a fist pump.

"Fuck yeah, it's a boy!"

You watch confusion grow on John B and Kie's faces as they turn their cupcakes around to show them to you.

"No, it's a girl."

John B's face is set in a deep frown and you turn to face Rafe with wide eyes before leaping into his arms. He throws his arms up and cheers once he sets you down, over the moon to be having one of each.

Rafe had been begging the universe for a daughter; a little daddy girl that he could spoil and take on dates.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did they screw up the order?"

You don't answer your brother, instead giving them a second to stew. You see John B figure it out first, and he turns to you with his jaw dropped.

"Wait, are you fucking serious?"

You nod your head with a smile that puts the sun to shame and giggle loudly when he carefully picks you up and spins you around. The rest aren't far behind, and when he sets you down JJ grabs your arm to make you face him.

There's an unspoken question in his eyes and you just nod in confirmation. You see his eyes well up with tears and get concerned for a moment before he shakes his head and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Holy shit. You're gonna have a Y/N and JJ 2.0"

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as you return his embrace and bury your head into his shoulder. You and JJ might have your squabbles, but the bond you have is one of a kind. It warms your heart to think your son and daughter are going to have a built-in best friend.

"Oh my god, this means I don't have to choose! I can shop the entire baby section!"

You let out a watery laugh at Sarah's exclamation and wipe your tears. She launches forward and throws her arms around your neck, joy radiating off of her.

"I'm so glad that you're gonna be the mother of my niece and nephew. I can't begin to explain how happy I am for both of you. You've always been my sister, but this is just a whole new level. I love you."

She whispers into your ear, and you hug her a little tighter as the sentiment causes a fresh round of tears.

"I love you too, Sarah."

She releases you after a few moments and goes over to Rafe, letting the rest of the group get in their hugs with you.

The look on your boyfriend's face is one of sheer glee and terror, and Sarah pulls him aside.

"Are you okay?"

Rafe brings his thumb up to his mouth and gnaws on the side of it, a nervous habit he picked up as a child.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just scared."

Sarah nods and takes a moment to mull over his confession.

"Scared of what? You've been ironclad through this whole thing. What changed?"

The look in Rafe's eyes is akin to a little kid, and suddenly Sarah knows what he means.

"Oh. You're scared to have a son."

When her brother doesn't respond, she places a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Rafe, you're not Dad. You never have been. You've made bad decisions, but you're trying to be better. That's more than he could say. I see the way you look at her. It's like she hung the moon and stars."

He nods and shifts on his feet, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I wish Mom was still here."

Sarah gives him a sympathetic look before pulling him into a hug.

"Me too. She'd be so excited, and proud of you. I know that she would have loved Y/N."

The two of them just stand there for a moment, finding comfort in each other before she pulls back and nods toward you.

"Go celebrate with your girl. This is your guys' moment."

You beam up at Rafe as he rejoins your little circle and lean into him when he wraps his arms around you to place his hands on your belly.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us."

John B is still in shock and you laugh lightly.

"We wanted it to be a surprise. Plus, we were still coming to terms with it ourselves."

He nods with a huff and Sarah slaps his arm, a quick reminder that this isn't about him. You all settle in around a bonfire, discussing the babies and what you all think they'll be like.

JJ insists they'll have his signature blonde hair, and Rafe swears they'll have his piercing blue eyes and irresistible charm.

A short while later, you're sitting on the beach staring out at the waves when you feel someone sit beside you.

"You good, sis?"

You avoid his gaze, peering up at the stars and trying to suck the tears back into your eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

JJ has always picked up on your moods at an annoyingly fast pace, and you sniffle.

"I'm so fucking afraid, J. Like stomach in knots, throwing up, straight up panic attack fear."

He frowns and pulls you into his side, his hand coming up to comb through your hair like he did when you were younger after one of Luke's episodes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He's always been so patient and gentle with you, well aware that you're the more sensitive one. You've always put on a brave face, but JJ knows that it's just a front. Under the surface, you're just as close to the edge as he is.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy. I just can't help but wonder if he's doomed. I silently hoped not to have a boy. I mean, look at the men in his bloodline. On both sides. One is a deranged money-hungry psychopath, and the other is an abusive addict. He's set up to fail before he even has a chance."

Your throat burns as you talk through the constriction and more hot tears fall into your lap.

"Y/N, look at how Rafe and I turned out. Sure, we're both a little reckless and hot-headed; but all things considered, we do okay. We both came straight from the lion's den and managed to make it out. Your little boy is going to have an entire army behind him and everything we grew up without. He's going to be the best, I promise."

You turn your head to look at him, skepticism clear on your face.

"You really think so?"

He nods instantly and leans forward to press a kiss to your temple.

"I know so. Have you talked to Rafe about this? I'm sure he's thinking the same thing."

You shake your head and JJ sighs, moving to stand up.

"I'm going to send him over. Don't shut him out, okay? You guys are in this together."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, and within a couple of minutes, Rafe is rushing over. He drops to his knees beside you, and his heart drops at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks.

"What's going on, baby? Talk to me."

He looks so worried, and it makes your heart clench. His eyes never leave yours, his hands on either side of your face forcing you to look at him.

"I don't want him to be a Cameron."

You immediately regret your choice of words when hurt flashes through his ocean eyes, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I don't mean it like that. I just mean.. the men in your family have so much pressure on them. I don't want him to grow up hard and calloused the way you were forced to. I want him to be soft and kind. I want him to be a kid."

Rafe nods in understanding before pulling you into his lap.

"Baby, I promise I'll do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. I want him to be happy too, and I'd go to the ends of the earth to achieve it. I want all of you to be happy. I know we haven't talked about it yet, but if it'll ease your mind then we can give them your last name. Hell when we get married, I'll take your last name. Whatever puts a smile on that pretty face."

You shake your head from side to side and stifle another sob.

"I don't want him to be a Maybank either. He's going to have a reputation either way, but at least with the Camron title, it won't be that he's a troublemaker destined to end up in prison. Neither of us comes from a great lineage, and that's what worries me. It's like he's cursed to either be a power-hungry asshole or an abusive drunk that steals and gambles."

He leans down so he's eye level with you and shakes his head.

"Y/N, that's not true. We'll build our own legacy and it'll be good and loving. Our babies don't have to carry the burden we did just because they share the name."

You nod, but Rafe can tell that something is still bothering you.

"That's not all of it. What else is going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

You hesitate for a moment before deciding that if this is going to work, you have to be honest.

"I never had a mother figure."

He catches on instantly, already sure he knows where this is going.

"What if I'm a bad mom?"

Rafe looks genuinely taken aback and offended at the mere suggestion, his eyebrows pinched together. Even in your current state, your hand reaches up to smooth out the crease and he leans into your touch.

"You're going to be the best fucking mom. You know how I know? Because of that right there. Even when you're going through something, your first instinct is to take care of me. You care for everyone around you, baby; and it's not because you have to. It's just who you are."

His thumb swipes under your eye when another tear falls and he continues.

"You are the most selfless, thoughtful, and kind person I've ever met. You don't treat people well to get something out of it, you do it because you have a good heart. You don't even realize it, and I'm going to spend every day reminding you."

He stops for a second, and you can tell he's debating on saying something else.

"I love you. I'm so in love with you that it makes my head spin and I can't make sense of it. You make me want to be a better person, Y/N. you've given me a reason to live and for that, I will always be grateful."

Rafe leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, just soaking up your presence. Really, he's trying to transfer all your pain and heartache over to himself. How can he not? You're his entire world, and if he could download all of your suffering he would without a second thought.

Usually, commitment would send you running for the hills. With anybody else, it's always raised alarm bells and sent your nervous system into fight or flight.

Nothing good has ever come from it; you've seen it over and over again. Yet, as you sit here in Rafe's arms you feel nothing but a serene calmness. You feel safe and at home, exactly where you're meant to be.

"I'm in love with you too. I've never told anybody that before, I've always left before it could get that far. But I don't want to run this time. I don't want to run ever again, not if it's away from you."

He pulls you into a sweet kiss, and in this tiny blip in the space-time continuum, every puzzle piece slots into place.

"I'll do anything I have to to make sure the three of you are taken care of. Our boy will be just fine because he has you. I'm never going anywhere."

Your cries have died down to hiccups and Rafe's heart feels like it's been pulverized at the smallness of your voice.

"Promise?"

He pulls back and sticks his hand out, nothing but love and soothing energy rolling off of him and into you.

"Pinky."

You hook your finger around his and you both kiss it, a vow to make a better life than what you were handed. His words from a few moments ago suddenly register in your foggy mind, and his heart soars at the mischievous smile that suddenly splits your face.

"Wait, did you say when we get married?"

He groans, his unspoken prayer that you didn't catch his slip-up going unanswered.

"I did. I meant it, too. It doesn't have to be anytime soon, but one day my ring is going to be weighing down your left hand with a diamond big enough to be seen from space."

Your lips crash into his and his hands encircle your waist as the two of you smile into the kiss.

"I'm holding you to that."

You squeal when he tickles his sides and his hand comes up to poke your nose.

"I expect nothing less."

@i-love-rafe @itsmytimetoodream @brynley-a-xoxo @whore4drew @houseofperfecttaste @everythingmarveltopgun @f4ll-for-you @athenabarnes @antagonize-me-motherfucker @writtenwordslover @madsnxo @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starrystarkey93 @keylin1730 @fulla02 @loving-and-dreaming @evening-starlight @ibleedcalories @badasspizzalover @veescorneroftheworld @pinkpantheris @brooklynscherry-z @starkeylover @sebastiansstanswhore @lothiriel9

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron x maybank!reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks

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laurenfoxmakesthings · 11 months

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ID: A thread of tweets by PinkRangerLB, a trans lawyer, that say the following.

"We in the LGBTQ+ community must understand that our dead were real people. Vital, awake, worlds unto themselves, like us. They didn’t live and die for the sake of our learning, but they have a lot to teach.

I want to tell you about Hart Island and hope in the darkness. /1

When I say they were real people I mean I do not believe they are necessary sacrifices, or that our dead paid a cost for us. They loved, they feared, they had favorite TV shows and candy bars. They were here and it will never ever ever be okay that they’re gone. /2

They’re not symbols or metaphors. They had books to write, vacations to take, meals to cook, and the world would be better with them still in it. We aren’t enriched by death, but we can stand in their shoes and see the future. /3

Hart Island, if you don’t know, is where New York City buries bodies that aren’t claimed by a licensed funeral director. At the height of the AIDS epidemic funeral homes were urged not to embalm AIDS fatalities. /4

In New York, as elsewhere, stigma toward the queer community was at a level that even now it can be difficult to remember. Many queer people who died of AIDS had been disowned by their birth family because of their identity, their HIV status, or both. /5

To make matters worse, their partners and found families had no rights to their medical care or their bodies after they passed. The hateful families that could claim them often didn’t, and the families that loved them were powerless to see to their wishes. /6

You can read more about all this at the memorial’s website, here:

hartisland.net/aids_initiative

You can feel their weight, can’t you? The absence is heavy. And it’s important we understand that weight, because it’s a flat fact that current attacks on LGBTQ+ rights, trans rights especially, will kill people. There will be more absence, and it is not okay. /8

And when we say we have hope we are not saying it’s okay that they will be gone.

None of this ignores intersectionalism, higher rates of infection in targeted communities, death rates higher still. When I say things *can* get better I am not ignoring that improvement favors /9

the privileged.

Things got better. ACT UP and other activist groups organized and gained ground through community building, mutual aid, and grassroots action. Culturally, the tide began to turn. Federal action by Reagan and then Clinton contributed very little /10

(and in fact often caused harm). Direct action by activists galvanized AIDS research and the tide turned with very little government help.

In New York City, the death rate for HIV/AIDS patients fell by 62% from 2001 to 2012. So here’s what I’m saying. We’ve been seeing /11

an escalating backlash against LGBTQ people for years now. It gets very easy for us to come to expect the worst case scenario. Trump won, states are attacking trans kids, Roe was overturned. So now we say WHEN the Supreme Court overturns gay marriage, WHEN a national /12"

abortion ban passes, WHEN trans healthcare for adults gets criminalized.

And don’t get me wrong, those are all very real threats. We have to fight like hell. I am not pretending that times aren’t dark, that people won’t die, or that it will ever be okay that our people will /13

suffer and die. But things can, and do, get better when we fight, when we look after each other. The tide will not inevitably turn, but *we* can turn it. We can say that when the wall finally fell, our hands were there, pulling it down brick by brick. /14

And those we lost, if we remember them, honor them, we are their hands too. /15"

#lgbtqia+#trans rights #transgender #activism #lgbtq #queer community #queer activism #lgbt #queer history #AIDs Crisis #you should share more of her threads on here they are often this anti-defeatist #I've been trying to use twitter less and go to tumblr more to get away from twitter's defeatism #I don't want any of you to start importing and accepting that defeatism here

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negans-lucille-tblr · 3 months

Text

My Worthless Love || Part One

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn.

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: flirting, teasing, mentions of one night stands, fluff, mentions of being uncomfortable with attention, mentions of smut, watching porn, hints of masturbation, mentions of step father/daughter roleplay Part WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Hope you enjoy this flangsty mini commissioned by Tina :)

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read Parts 2-5 when you sub to my site/Patreon!

Dean’s POV

“Holy fucking shit, dude,” Dean gasps out, as he straightens up from taking his shot at the pool table and doesn’t even notice that the white ball goes nowhere near the stripe he could’ve easily potted.

“You okay there, boss?” But Dean ignores Justin for a moment, still too captivated by the girl he’s just laid eyes on, watching her seem to effortlessly glide from the doorway to the bar. “Seriously?”

This snaps Dean’s attention back to his employee, frowning slightly at the look of amusement on Justin’s face.

“What?” he pries, taking his eyes off of the blonde for a brief second to look for the girl again and make sure she hasn’t just completely disappeared into thin air; that would be just his luck.

“I know you’re my boss, but keep dreaming, man,” Justin laughs, stepping up to the table to take advantage of Dean’s distraction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean presses, frowning at him. “You think a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in me?”

“I know a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in you,” Justin scoffs. “Anyway, isn’t she like, half your age?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?” Dean asks, amused.

“Old enough to be her dad by the looks of it,” Justin teases with a smug grin, potting another ball. Dean hasn’t been counting how many that is now.

“Fuck you,” Dean grunts, mildly insulted but more so totally captivated by the pretty girl still standing at the bar, talking to the bar man who is clearly very shameless in his flirting. So Dean’s not the only man she’s having this affect on – that does complicate things a little. Competition is always a challenge. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, then go and buy her a drink and prove you wrong.”

“Good luck with that,” Justin laughs, a smug grin lighting up his face, and as Dean’s eyes land back on the pool table, he realises Justin’s almost cleared the table himself.

Dean rolls his shoulders back and tells himself to focus on the game – if nothing else to knock his cocky employee down a peg or two – and takes his turn, this time potting all the balls he intends to, until only the black remains, and he looks up to flash Justin a wink before potting it. Justin rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion, but doesn’t seem too put out that he’s lost. Justin always loses to Dean, but the kid is getting better the more Friday nights they spend playing.

“You might’ve beaten me, but I can’t wait to see you fail at the next part,” Justin smirks from behind his beer bottle before finishing it. “Y’know, she looks kinda familiar, you are okay with my sloppy seconds, right, boss?”

“If I wasn’t, there’d be no one in this state left to fuck,” Dean retorts, flashing Justin a sarcastic smile and patting his shoulder condescendingly, making Justin laugh loudly.

“Hey, I learned from the best,” Justin tries to argue back. “Fixing a car isn’t the only thing you’ve taught me, y’know.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you already had ‘manslut’ in your resume before I hired you,” Dean argues, before making his way over to the bar.

He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair before he’s gotten too close, and manages to just about slide into the gap between her and the man standing with his back to her talking to a friend. He briefly glances over at her, noticing she’s just as gorgeous, if not more, up close, and clears his throat as he waits to be served. When he catches her looking his way, he gives her a sweet smile, but she doesn’t hold his gaze long enough for him to strike up a conversation, so he thinks on his approach another minute or two longer.

His fingers begin to drum nervously on the bar top as he notices the barman approaching them, and he realises he’s running out of time.

“What can I get you?”

“Urm, two beers and… I’m feeling generous, so whatever this pretty lady beside me wants,” Dean forces a smile, mentally cursing himself for the terrible move.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she insists, “but thank you.”

Fuck.

The barman nods, moving away to get the beers, and Dean clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t wanna seem like a weirdo, just figured I’d be nice, buy a lonely lady a drink.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not weird,” she tells him softly. “I’m just still drinking this one,” she explains.

“Alright,” Dean nods, admitting defeat. He fucked it from the moment he opened his mouth. He let Justin get into his head. He doesn’t deserve to land someone like her now, anyway, even if it does mean he has to spend the rest of the evening listening to Justin tell him he told him so.

“You mean that’s it?” she presses, frowning at him.

Dean frowns back, now completely confused by what’s happening, barely thanking the barman when two bottles of beer are placed in front of him.

“Not gonna persuade me?”

“Do you… want me to persuade you?” Dean asks carefully, now completely lost.

“No,” she replies simply. “Just most men would,” she shrugs.

Dean finds his way through the confusion just enough to consider maybe he’s not completely blown it after all.

“I’m not most men, sweetheart,” he laughs, softly. “Anyway, have a good night.”

He smiles at her once again and grabs the beers, forcing himself not to look back at her reaction to his exit as he returns to the pool table and sees Justin has already set up the next game; clearly having no faith in Dean’s attempt to not be returning.

“Knew you’d blow it,” Justin scoffs, taking his beer from Dean’s grasp.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Dean replies confidently, grabbing his pool cue. “I’ll break.”

“Dude,” Justin whispers, glancing over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turns his head to see the girl from the bar approaching, outstretching her hand to offer him the beer in her grasp.

“For me?” he asks, confused.

She shrugs, playing with the straw in whatever girly drink is in her grasp and clears her throat. “Just to say thanks for not being a creep,” she tells him softly.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he nods, smiling nervously. “Urm, I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she replies, biting her bottom lip softly before glancing over at Justin. “I’ll leave you to your night.”

“No, it’s okay, Justin was actually just leaving, he’s gotta open up shop tomorrow,” Dean smiles, looking over at Justin pointedly. Justin frowns deeply and grumbles under his breath, reaching for his jacket.

“He’s old enough to be your father, by the way,” he grumpily points out to Y/N as he passes her, shooting Dean a smug grin when she’s not looking, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m not,” he insists, hoping that hasn’t scared her off.

“I’m used to older guys,” she shrugs. “So, I’ve seen you get a few good shots on this thing tonight, mind showing me a trick or two?” she asks, biting her bottom lip again.

“Sure,” Dean nods, suddenly a little nervous but a whole lot excited he didn’t screw up that badly.

Three Weeks Later

“I’m not joking, Dean, it was horrible,” she stresses, even though there’s still a laugh in her voice.

“I don’t know, it sounds pretty funny to me,” Dean insists, laughing along. She glares at him playfully, and then looks back ahead of them as they continue to walk the length of the riverside.

“Can you believe this is our third date, already?” Y/N asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

“I think Justin is in more disbelief than I am,” Dean smirks. “The guy was adamant I couldn’t get your attention at the bar that night.”

“A guy like Justin couldn’t get my attention,” she corrects, scoffing.

“He’s convinced that you two have…” Dean trails off, realising that’s a really inappropriate thing to bring up.

“Really?” she frowns. “No, I don’t know him,” she insists, shaking her head instantly.

“I didn’t think so,” Dean rushes to remedy. “I mean, I would believe it from someone like him, but I didn’t… I don’t want you to think I would think of you… I… I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. He just said he recognised you and, he can’t keep track of… it doesn’t matter,” Dean flusters.

But he’s pretty sure he’s upset her, because the smile has completely gone from her face, and now she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth in the way Dean’s learned she does when she’s anxious.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “Forget I said that, please?” he begs.

She clears her throat and nods her head, so Dean tries to relax again and focus on the great third date they were having, and all the hopes he’d had for this going finally somewhere remotely close to a bedroom. But now he’s pretty sure he’s blown that, at least.

“Oh shit,” some guy drunkenly slurs as they begin to pass a bar. “I know you!” He points straight at Y/N who suddenly seems very uncomfortable with the entire situation. “Where do I know you from?” he asks, frowning in confusion.

“That’s a really shitty way to hit on a woman on a date,” Dean calls over, laughing at the guy’s feeble attempt.

“No, I know her,” he continues to insist.

“You’re drunk, dude,” Dean points out the obvious, noticing Y/N getting more and more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention. He moves to stand the other side of her, between her and the drunk man, and puts his arm around her to offer her some comfort, before moving them on swiftly. “Are you okay?” he asks, as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Fine,” she insists, “I don’t know what that was.”

“He’s drunk, he probably just wanted to hit on you,” Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, probably,” she laughs awkwardly, nodding her head. “I just hate the attention,” she explains, hugging herself.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sweetheart, but you do get a lot of it from men. One even walked into a door earlier,” Dean chuckles softly at the memory. “I know you can’t help it, but us men go a little stupid over girls as attractive as you.” But Y/N seems uncomfortable with the praise, so Dean decides to drop it, and clears his throat. “Do you wanna go somewhere private? My place isn’t far from here,” he offers.

“Urm,” she stops, not looking him in the eye as she instead looks out over the river. “I know it’s our third date and there’s certain… expectations that come with that, but I think I wanna just go home, I’m sorry,” she tells him awkwardly.

“No, yeah of course,” Dean reassures her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that,” he insists. While it had been on his mind most of the evening, after what had just happened, he was genuinely offering her refuge and a drink, but he understands how she might have taken it, and now he feels like an even bigger idiot than he did when he brought up Justin. “Listen, I had a great night, regardless how it ends, I just want you to know that,” he tells her.

“Me too, Dean,” she smiles. “Sorry, I think I’m just tired.”

“It’s fine,” Dean insists, shaking his head because an apology isn’t necessary. “Let me get you a cab.”

He steps out towards the road and lifts his hand to flag down a cab, and as one pulls up to them, he smiles down at her.

“Thanks, Dean, I’d like to do this again if you’re still interested,” she tells him timidly.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll text you,” he nods with a small smile.

He’s surprised to see her rock up onto her toes and press her lips to his, and he kisses back for a brief second before she pulls away and gets into the cab beside them. He waves her off once she’s safely inside, and exhales heavily as he watches the cab drive away. Well he didn’t completely fuck it up, which is something he supposes, but he can’t help but think how weird it is that she gets so uncomfortable by male attention, and how reserved she seems to be regarding anything physical.

As Dean begins his walk home he wonders if maybe she’s had a bad experience in the past, or maybe she has no experience at all. She is only twenty one, so it’s not a far cry that she could still be a virgin, and it would make sense why she seems closed off about things. But Dean also can’t help but feel like there’s something she’s not told him yet, like there’s a part of her he’s yet to see, and he wonders if that has anything to do with it.

Dean sighs as he grabs a fresh beer from his fridge and begrudgingly heads towards his bedroom alone, thinking about his high hopes earlier that evening when he was leaving his bedroom, freshly showered and dressed for his date with Y/N, excited by the prospect of her coming back to his place with him. He’d even changed the bedsheets, and sprayed a lot of air freshener around the place. He’d tidied up and made sure there were condoms in his nightstand, and he’d even been out and bought the wine she had ordered the last two times they’d been on dates before. Dean had even gone as far as to not deal with the issue that arose in the shower when thinking about Y/N and what their evening might entail. He didn’t want to waste it on the shower floor, after all.

So now, understandably, he’s a little pent up.

He grabs his laptop as he heads into his bedroom and slumps down onto his bed, taking a swig of beer as he opens up the computer and spurs it to life. Like muscle memory he loads the internet and types in the first few letters of his favourite site, his laptop already filling in the blanks and all he has to do is press enter to be taken there.

Placing his beer down on the nightstand, Dean clears his throat and ensures he’s a little more comfortable in his place as he scrolls the homepage looking at the featured video thumbnails until something sticks out to him. And something finally does. Not his usual type, judging by the title of the video, but there’s something about the glimpse of the girl in the thumbnail that’s appealing to him tonight.

Summer Swallows coerced by Step-Daddy when mother leaves town

Dean’s never really been one to choose this kind of thing, but maybe he’s getting too bored of his regular entertainment, anyway. Maybe it’s about time he spiced things up a little. He clears his throat and readjusts himself once more, clicking play and watching the titles play out. Already bored, he cuts to five or so minutes in, glad it’s the trimmed version and not the full forty minute version the site is advertising if you pay for it. It cuts to an upshot of the man’s face, twisted, his lip caught between his teeth as he groans and stares down his body, and then the camera cuts to the girl playing his step-daughter, on her knees and pleasing him with her mouth, and Dean sits up straight, his eyes widening as he blindly fumbles for his cell on the nightstand and pauses the video right there on her face.

“Sammy?” he chokes out. “You won’t believe what I’ve just found.”

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 23 days

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Enigma

Elks Chapter 4

Chapter Rating: M. Chapter Summary: Joel comes over to your home and stays for dinner, coffee, and a couch make out. Chapter Warnings: Domestic fluff, making out, some petting, internal dialogue panic, whiskey and coffee. Words: 3,600 Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. A/N: Godddd, this Joel is so soft and I love creating this happy ending for him. Hope you love it too.

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Masterlist Playlist

***

“Ain't No Sunshine” by Bill Withers.

Saturday morning dawns, you haven’t slept that soundly in years, falling asleep to the thought of Joel’s lips on yours. The sun is out after days of rain and gray skies, a fresh start.

Your foot runs into something hard as you step out your front door, sitting in the middle of your porch is a wooden box, the perfect carrying size complete with handles cut into the sides. A note with sharp handwriting rests on it.

Your cardboard box isn’t going to make another trip. This should help. I’ll drop your guitar off tonight. - Joel

You lift the hinged lid to see more than enough room for all of your paint jars. Tears well up in your eyes. What did you do to deserve this? Did he really go home and make this last night? You put the box inside your home, taking a quick moment to rub your hand over the smooth sanded wood. Joel’s thoughtfulness causes a grin as you tuck his note into your back pocket. Beginning your early morning journey to the schoolhouse, you still glance for a peek of Joel as you pass his house.

——

You love your library, you love the look on fellow resident’s faces when they tell you they enjoyed a book that you recommended, being able to provide an escape with every page turned. You love that you hold volumes of encyclopedias and reference books, one of the few ways people can learn now. You love to catalog and fill your shelves with every single dog-eared and well read book patrollers bring you back.

You’re so fulfilled by your two jobs, your friends, your home, and the life you’ve carved out in Jackson. Now, after spending time with Joel, the emptiness you’ve been good at ignoring beats louder. You want his friendship, you want his attention, you want him.

You try to focus as much as you can on your work. Cataloging, checking out books, tutoring a couple of kids having difficulty learning to read. When you lock the doors to the school house at the end of the day, you sigh out in relief. Joel will be coming over soon.

——

A quick succession of knocks land on your door. You practically jump out of your chair and run to the door. Taking a deep breath to calm your nervous energy, smoothing down the fabric of your cotton shirt and linen pants. You haven’t had to second guess what you’re wearing in years, but today, you want to impress Joel.

A small exhale escapes your lips when you open your door. There stood in a flannel over a dark blue t-shirt is Joel holding a guitar with a small smile on his face. He looks so handsome, your knees feel a little weak.

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Evening.”

“Come in,” you’re nervous now.

You love your home, and now Joel’s going to step into it. He’s about to metaphorically walk into your mind, all of your art on the wall, some of it found and some of it your own, your mismatched throw pillows on the couch, your chipped vase filled with fake flowers, your boot scuffs on the floor. You wonder if he felt the same way on the first day he opened the door for you, letting you into his studio where all of the things he loved laid. You are proud of your home, it’s no longer the desolate tiny apartment in the Denver QZ with only a threadbare blanket on a flat mattress.

He walks in, eyes roaming around your small and cozy living room. Shelves full of books, paintings, and little trinkets you’ve curated over your time in Jackson. Your mirrored wall that you hated when you first moved in but now welcome the bright light it reflects across the room. You painted birds all over it, making the few cracks into branches on a whim a year ago, and now it’s your favorite thing.

“Never thought people like you could still exist,” Joel focuses in on a sparrow you painted on a branch.

“People like me?”

“Yeah,” he turns to you, “still wanting to make things… nice.”

“I like what I like I guess,” you blush. “I really like the box you left on my porch, you really didn’t have to Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Was no bother, wanted to do it for you. Didn’t like the thought of that box ripping and spilling everything.”

“Well, thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, there’s this too,” handing you the guitar. “S’all fixed and new, tuned it for you.”

“This is incredible, thank you.” It feels good to hold a guitar again, a huge smile breaks across your face. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

You strum a couple of notes. You haven’t played guitar in almost a month, your fingers no longer need to play phantom notes, you have music back.

“Did you want to stay for dinner? I feel like I owe you a meal.”

“Of course, I’d love to.”

“I made sure to dust and I put my cats in my painting room, just in case you wanted to.” “Awful sweet of you.”

You hand your guitar back to Joel. “Do you want to play me some songs while I cook?”

“‘Course.”

——

The smell of peppers, onions, potatoes, and eggs fill the kitchen. You feel Joel watch you as you cut slices of bread and toast them in a pan, his eyes have been on you since you lead him to the kitchen. Sometimes you’ll glance over at him, he doesn’t even hide that he’s looking.

“How do you want your eggs? I’m having scrambled.”

“Over easy. Hate scrambled eggs…”

You nod and turn back to the stove, listening to Joel strum a song.

“That song’s really pretty. What is it?” You ask as you dish out the food and bring the plates of food over to the table.

“Pretty sure it’s called ‘Ain’t No Sunshine.’ Used to play it a lot when I was younger.” Joel puts your guitar against the wall as he watches you open a cupboard and pull out a small bottle of red sauce.

“It’s really pretty, I liked it,” placing the bottle on the table. Joel picks it up and brings it over looking at the little label that you drew a skull and crossbones and peppers on.

“Is this… hot sauce?” Joel’s eyes widen.

“Yep.”

“How did you get hot sauce?”

“Made it.”

“Wow, heh. I didn’t know people could still make hot sauce,” Joel says as he opens the bottle cap and smells it.

“Yep, I grow peppers in the Summer and boil them down with vinegar. My dad was pretty famous around town for his hot sauce, he used to make me help him during the harvest,” you sit down across from him. “I used to hate it, but now I’m thankful he made me learn.”

Joel sticks his finger out and places a couple drops of hot sauce on it. He holds it up to show you and with a nod tastes it. He smiles as his lips form around his finger, tasting the sauce.

“Mm, it’s good.” Your breath hitches as he takes his finger out of his mouth, the sound of his lips smacking reminds you of the kiss the two of you shared last night. Blinking out the memory you grab a piece of toast.

“Glad you like it, I have a few bottles, I’ll send you home with one.”

“Can’t believe you’re real,” murmurs out of his lips, as if he really didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hide a smile behind taking a bite out of toast. “Can’t tell you the last time I had breakfast at night…”

“I always have it. I love breakfast for dinner. It always seemed so special when I was a kid, eating pancakes after the sun goes down…now it just makes sense because I always have eggs and potatoes. Though I’d kill for a cinnamon roll…”

It all seems so normal, like Joel always comes over and sits across the table from you. Like you’re always putting two plates on the table, always hearing the sounds of two metal forks scraping against ceramic.

You’ve been alone for so long… happily. Satisfied by everything else in your life, never paying much attention to anyone who wanted your attention. You were good with alone, until you saw Joel… and now he’s wiping yolk off his chin from the egg you just cooked him in your kitchen.

——

“Did you want to stay for a bit?” Your boldness surprising you as you put away the rest of the dishes after dinner.

“Sure, of course I do.” Joel’s smile lighting up his entire face.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to making him smile, seeing the way his lips curve up, the glimpse of his teeth, the dimple deepening in his cheek. You’re used to drawing the things you want to see, to be able to make Joel smile is better than any art piece you’ll ever create.

“Did you want coffee or tea? Saturday’s my late night, might make it to midnight if I have company.”

“Coffee sounds good.”

“Whiskey?”

“Please.”

Normal, again. The two of you falling into conversation easily, never about anything of importance. Your favorite things about Jackson, the TV shows you used to watch, your first concerts. Nothing heavy or scary, a quiet agreement that you both understand that to reach the ages you both are, you mutually had to live through the worst of the worst. Joel doesn’t mention his daughter and you don’t bring her up. You sit in your plaid reading chair across from him on your couch his body taking up half of the cushions as he rests an arm on the back of it. He looks so comfortable, so relaxed. You’ve been splitting a flask between the two of you for the past hour, the taste of your coffee getting weaker each time you add whiskey.

“What was your couch like?” You ponder.

“Hm?”

You take another sip of your coffee, the whiskey causing a slight burn down your throat as you swallow.

“Your couch. What was it like in Texas?”

“What a weird question,” Joel’s smile gets blocked by his coffee cup as he takes another drink.

“I think you can tell a lot about someone by the type of furniture they choose. My mom very much liked neat and tidy and loved her house to look like it was right out of a catalog. We had some fancy regal looking floral abomination that was so uncomfortable to sit in but she thought it looked good. My dad didn’t care as long as he had somewhere comfortable to watch the Rockies… so it was just a normal brown couch that had recliners and pulldown cupholders in the middle.”

He sighs and adjusts in his seat. “Had a brown leather sofa, took up most of the living room, but didn’t mind because it was so comfortable.”

“See! I knew you had something big and leather.”

“Really now?”

“Yes, I swear. I look at you and I think… big.”

“Big?”

And right when Joel lifts his eyebrows at you is where you know you should’ve stopped talking.

“Yeah,” you exhale. “You always look so big and broad. Strong but gentle, capable but eager to learn and listen, rugged yet soft like… someone I’ve never seen before. You’re like a full on enigma.”

Your big mouth strikes again.

“An enigma?” Joel chugs the rest of his coffee, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “M’sorry sweetheart, what’s that?”

“A mystery… like I can’t figure you out. I haven’t been able to since the Tipsy Bison that first day I saw you…” stop talking, stop talking, “…you have this aura around you that you’re Joel Miller, Tommy’s brother, don’t talk to him…” seriously, shut up “…and yet you were so kind and gentle to me when I fell. You practically forced me to let you help with the books and then you stuck around to help set up everything…” stop talking, shut up “…and then you have me paint flowers in your house and you’re so sweet and so welcoming to me…” Okay, be quiet. You’re about to say something you don’t want to say. “…I’ve watched you since I first saw you and I still can’t figure you out…” and now you’ve said too much, “an enigma.” You huff the last words out, tipping your head back against your chair. Damn whiskey.

“You know, s’funny, I remember seeing you when I first got here too.” The way his words are gently spoken causes you to look at him. His eyes are on you, zero judgment lines his face. “Was a bad day, had a lot of feelings about Tommy and how he found happiness so easily here. I was in my head so much and at the worst moment, I look over and see you staring right at me. You made me forget those thoughts for a split second, just seeing you standing there. So beautiful and bright eyed in that light purple shirt… same shirt you were wearing when I helped you with your knee… kinda like you dropped from heaven in front of my house.”

His honesty takes your breath away, the admission of shared feelings between the two of you sent back and forth across your coffee table as your two empty mugs rest atop it. What you see is what you get from Joel, what he says he means, you know he’s not struggling internally at his oversharing like you.

You sit dumbfounded, the silence that creeps between the two of you allowing the time to let Joel’s words settle in you and bloom across your body.

“So,” Joel leans forward, "if that’s how you feel ‘bout me, then I’m happily an enigma.”

He’s pinned you with his gaze, determined brown eyes stare straight into yours. You know he can see what his words are doing to you. You’re surprised the nerves radiating inside of you aren’t making an audible buzz.

Joel cuts the silent tension first. “Speaking of couches… do you want to come sit next to me?”

You nod. Your heart hammering in your chest as you rise and seize the opportunity. Joel watches you as your bare feet pad over the rug with a small smirk on his lips like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.

You take a seat next to Joel, your body sinking closer to his as you adjust.

“S’nice,” Joel brings his arm around you, resting his hand on your shoulder as you move closer to him. “You have a beautiful home, love how every surface has something nice to look at. It’s so warm and pretty, perfectly you. I like being here, s’like walking into a different world.”

Your body begins to burn as Joel’s fingers brush back and forth against your arm. You don’t nod, you don’t say anything, you just focus on controlling your breathing and your rapid heart beat.

“You okay like this sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry, just haven’t done this in a long time. I like it, it’s just a lot.”

“S’okay sweetheart, we can just sit here and enjoy each other if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Joel pulls you even closer against him, your head rests against his chest, you haven’t been this close to someone in so long. It feels good, it feels right. Hearing him breathe, feeling the softness of his soft t-shirt against your cheek, smelling the scent of wood and coffee on him. It was only last week that he was practically a stranger, now he’s holding you in your living room.

You breathe out a contented sigh, Joel’s chest vibrates against your cheek as he lets out a low chuckle. This moment right here feels like a turning point for your life in Jackson.

You’ve welcomed Joel into your home, much like he did with you. You want him to stay here with you, you don’t want him to leave tonight.

You want to feel his arms embrace you again. You want to kiss him again. You want to be selfish tonight. You never allow yourself what you want, always sacrificing for others and the greater good. You want to put your needs first tonight… so you choose to be selfish.

“Joel,” a whisper leaves your lips.

“Mm?”

“When we kissed yesterday…”

“Uh huh.”

“What would have… happened if the water didn’t spill?” You crane your neck up to look at him, Joel looks down and locks eyes with a small smile on his face.

“Well, I would have kept kissing you, obviously.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you’d let me sweetheart.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Me too,” Joel’s hand comes up to rest under your chin tilting it up towards his lips, “do you want me to kiss you now?” His tongue drags across his lower lip, you copy the movement as you lean forward into his hold and kiss him.

You love being selfish. You love how pillowy his lips are against yours. You love how you can taste the coffee and whiskey on his tongue. You love how he groans into your mouth as you move to sit on his lap. You love how his hands grab your hips as you straddle him. You love how rough his jeans feel against your linen pants. You love how Joel begins peppering kisses from your mouth to your neck.

“You taste so sweet,” Joel utters against your skin, feeling the smile in his kiss as you let out a moan from his words. A hand comes up to feel the underside of your breast, his touch eliciting another loud moan as he cups it in his large palm. The fire for Joel that’s been smoldering inside of you has been set ablaze by his mouth.

You begin rocking your hips against him, gasping and moaning as you look for pressure where you need him the most. Your hand reaches between the two of you, rubbing against the bulge of his pants.

Joel pulls away, his hand leaves your chest. “Hold on, hold on sweetheart, I don’t want to go too fast. I want to take our time, okay?” His hand cups your cheek. “I know what you want, ‘n I want it too… but you’re too special to not savor.”

You hate that you agree, you wish you could throw caution to the wind and take what you want to take, but you also know you’ve never felt this way about someone before. You nod as Joel leans forward and rests his forehead against yours.

“I really like you sweetheart, and it’s only been a few days…”

“I know,” you kiss his lips one last time before extracting yourself from his lap and sitting next to him. “We can just sit here again if you’d like, or you can get going if you want.”

“I’d like to sit here with you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closer, your head resting against his chest again. He feels so good, like you’ve never known comfort until you felt the broad expanse of his chest underneath your skin.

“Sorry I don’t have any music… tonight would be a perfect night to listen to something.”

“Don’t mind the silence.”

“Me neither.”

You shut your eyes after awhile, the sound of Joel’s steady breathing against you lulling you to sleep.

——

“Sweetheart,” Joel’s soft voice wakes you up, blinking your eyes open to soft blue denim.

Somehow during sleep you’ve migrated down to rest your head on Joel’s lap.

“Mmph, how long was I asleep for?” You look up at Joel’s tired eyes looking down at you.

“Dunno, but it’s dawn. I also fell asleep, just woke up,” Joel answers with a yawn.

“I’m sorry,” you move to sit up and yawn. “Guess I was either tired or you’re just really comfortable.

“S’okay, it was nice. Once I knew you were asleep I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked so peaceful.”

“Thanks,” you stand up and stretch your arms over your head, Joel’s eyes darting to the sliver of your exposed skin as your shirt rises.

“Should get going home,” a small hint of reluctance in Joel’s voice.

“I know,” you attempt to shield the tone of disappointment. You grab the hot sauce bottle sitting on your console table. “Don’t forget this.”

“Thanks sweetheart. I have long patrol this week. I’ll be gone Monday, should be back Friday evening.” Your stomach drops at the thought of not seeing Joel for that long. “Can I see you Saturday?”

“Of course, yeah. I’d like that.”

“I’ll stop by the library then, ’n we can talk,” Joel grips your chin and brings his lips forward to plant a kiss on your lips. “Good night sweetheart, this was really nice.”

“Good night.”

Joel opens your door and looks back at you with a smile and nod before leaving.

Your face lights up for nobody to see. You go to check on your cats and fall asleep in your much less comfortable bed compared to Joel’s lap.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Things are starting to heat up (got to change the rating from T to M! Building up to E! 😉) and I'm very excited where this story is heading. See you next Monday! I've never written fan fic until two months ago, so I really appreciate all of you who have commented/liked/reblogged, it's a very cool thing to experience. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @orcasoul

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #elks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller fic

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

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this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 1: before also on AO3 based on this post Rated E for future chapters

🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰

Nobody thought he could do it, but he did.

He graduated.

He was gonna get out of here.

He was gonna be someone.

The woman he celebrated with reminded him of Steve. He couldn’t lie to himself about it, knew the exact reasons he’d let her flirt with him, let her touch his arm, let her kiss him against the wall of the hallway of the bar leading to the bathrooms.

She was beautiful, of course, her hair a golden brown, eyes a soft brown. She had freckles along her cheeks and one on the tip of her nose.

Easily kissable if he were looking for more than one night.

He couldn’t give her that.

But he didn’t get the idea that she was interested in more than that anyway.

The back of the van was the perfect place to fuck her, and the fact that she didn’t really seem disgusted or annoyed by it further proved that she wasn’t interested in anything beyond tonight with him.

She was good, liked it a little rough, kissed him like she needed his lips on hers to survive.

Eddie was lost in it, not drunk enough to realize they’d forgotten to use a condom, but drunk enough to ignore it.

She was probably on birth control anyway.

It wouldn’t be anything more than tonight.

————————————————————

“Eds, I’m sorry about this, but they called me in for a shift. They’re pretty short staffed lately, so I think I should go,” Wayne said while Eddie was putting on his coveralls for work.

He was bouncing Mia on his hip, smiling down at her as he spoke to Eddie from the bathroom doorway.

“No, I get it,” Eddie replied.

He did. He totally understood.

When Mia’s mom had shown up with her on his doorstep, hospital bracelets still on them both, he’d already felt the shift of his entire life.

There was no denying Mia was his, even at only three days old.

So he held her in his arms, and he cried until Wayne got home from work, and then they figured it out.

He owed Wayne so much even before Mia, but now, as her number one caretaker, he owed Wayne everything.

So, yeah, he understood.

But it didn’t negate the fact that he was now going to have to take her to work with him on a day that the secretary wouldn’t be in to help keep an eye on her.

She was at the age where crawling could happen any day, and she was antsy if she was held for too long or stuck in her car seat or pack and play for more than 15 minutes.

But the shop was no place for a baby to learn to crawl, and that meant keeping her contained in something while he worked his Saturday shift.

“I don’t have to go in for a couple hours, so I could keep her here and drop her off on my way?” Wayne offered, knowing Eddie’s brain was trying to figure everything out.

“No, I may be in the middle of something when you get there so it’d be easier to just go ahead and have her there,” Eddie sighed. “Is her bounce seat in the truck?”

“I can check.”

Wayne passed her off to him, kissing the top of her head before he walked out to the truck.

“Hey, superstar. You wanna come to work with Daddy?” Eddie asked, laughing when she giggled and smacked his face in excitement. “Guess that’s a yes. You gonna behave or are you gonna cause trouble?”

“Ba!” Mia yelled, smacking him again.

“Ba for behave? I sure hope so,” he said quietly.

The guys at the shop were totally fine with her being there, and often turned the music down and watched their language more, but he knew it was an annoyance.

Everyone there had kids, yet he was the only one who had to bring his.

Everyone there also had wives who mostly stayed home or worked at the school so they had someone to watch their kids, but that wasn’t easy to remember when he started feeling bad.

“Better get you in something warm. It’s chilly out there,” Eddie poked at her cheek, where her dimple was on display.

She was a happy baby, hardly cried even when she was a newborn. He was incredibly lucky, would hate to know how much worse off they’d have been if she was a fussy baby.

He brought her into their shared room of the trailer, setting her down on the changing table.

He changed her quickly, buttoning her up in her warmest onesie and sweater, already trying to figure out how he would keep a blanket on her legs when she just kicked so damn much when Wayne walked into the room.

“Bounce seat is in your van. She should be pretty happy in that. Lets her get those legs moving,” Wayne said fondly. “You sure you’re good? Maybe I could try to call someone.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” Eddie said with a smile.

“I know ya do, kid,” Wayne patted his shoulder before walking back out of the room.

“Alright, Miss Mia. Time to go start pulling your weight around here. You’ll have to get under those cars and do some oil changes if you wanna pay for those rice snacks you like so much,” he joked, tickling her side.

She giggled, and then started laughing uncontrollably.

It was his favorite laugh.

He couldn’t help but laugh along with her, picking her up and swinging her around before settling her against his hip.

She was his whole life, and if he could spend all of it making her laugh like that, he’d be the happiest person in the world.

————————————————————————

“Right, and I think last time we did mention you would need a cabin filter replacement on your next visit,” Eddie explained to the customer who was irate that they were recommending a cabin filter replacement in his car that somehow managed to still run despite its ignored maintenance.

“And if you remember, I told ya then that was a bunch of horse shit. Cabin filters don’t have to be replaced but every few years,” the man insisted.

“Sir, I do wish that were true, but-“

“Ed? Mia’s gettin’ a little fussy. Want me to hold her while you handle this?” Adam said from the doorway into the shop.

Eddie sighed and wiped his hand down his face, forgetting there was still a bit of oil on it from the last car he’d worked on.

“Sure, thanks man,” Eddie replied with a small smile.

“You either do it for free or I want my car back the way it was,” the man said when Adam went back into the shop area.

“I’m sorry, sir, we just don’t recommend driving it with the old cabin filter and-“

“Where’s your manager?”

Eddie threw his head back and groaned.

Should he have done it? No.

But his least favorite part of Saturdays was that he had to deal with rude customers by himself.

“He isn’t in on Saturdays. I’m the assistant manager. If I take the new cabin filter out of your car and put the old one back, your car is on its last days.”

“That’s what ya say every time I come.”

“Which is often. Because you don’t do what we tell you to do. Look, I’ve got two more cars to do, so if you wanna take the risk, I’ll go put your old filter back in. Or you can just pay us the $20 for the labor and new filter and maybe get another five or ten thousand miles out of that thing.”

That was generous.

This guy’s car was older than Eddie. He’d be lucky to get another 100 miles out of it, even with a new filter.

“Ed, sorry man. It’s just Mia isn’t calming down,” Adam stood in the doorway holding Mia, who was crying and rubbing her eyes, clearly ready for a nap but unable to because of the noise in the shop.

“Yeah, be right there,” Eddie said, and Adam, the best guy he knew besides Wayne, smiled reassuringly at him and went back into the shop with her.

“Why’s there a baby here?” the man asked, arms crossed.

“She’s my daughter. No one else could watch her.” Eddie walked behind the counter and wrote up a receipt showing he was refusing the new cabin filter. “Sign this saying we aren’t responsible for if your car catches fire, which it inevitably will soon, by not changing the cabin filter.”

The man signed it, then huffed about mechanics thinking they know everything.

Eddie barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

When he went back in the shop, Mia was full on screaming, something she rarely did, even when she was hungry or needed a diaper change.

“What’s wrong, metalhead in training?” he asked as he took her from Adam’s arms. “Sorry guys, she doesn’t usually do this.”

“No, we know man. It’s alright. She isn’t getting sick, is she?”

“Don’t think so. I just think she’s tired. It’s her nap time,” Eddie sighed, looking at the clock.

Three hours left.

He could do this.

They could do this.

“Do you think you can put his old cabin filter back in while I walk with her outside to calm her down?” Eddie asked Adam, noticing a car pulling into the parking lot.

Normally, Saturday mornings were busy, but around lunchtime, things slowed down. It seemed like he wouldn’t be so lucky today.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I’ll see what this person needs while I’m out there,” Eddie said, nodding towards the front where someone was walking into the shop.

Eddie made his way to the front, ignoring the man pacing the floor as he waited for his shitbox car to be done.

“Alright, Mia, let’s calm down. Daddy’s gotta help a customer, okay? You wanna help me? Wanna wave at them when they get inside?” Eddie was speaking to her calmly, doing his best to get her to calm down.

She didn’t.

And that’s, of course, how Steve Harrington walked back into his life.

He’d left over a year ago, barely said goodbye to anyone, just followed Robin to college like a lost puppy.

He hadn’t really blamed him for leaving, but it still hurt.

He thought they were friends.

Maybe not best friends, but close enough that he would have said bye.

“Steve?” Eddie felt like the walls were closing in, an unexplainable panic at the thought of having to talk to Steve professionally when all he wanted to do was yell at him hitting him.

“Eddie! Holy shit, I didn’t even think you’d still be in town,” Steve said, beaming at him like he hadn’t torn Eddie to pieces when he left.

And, well, he hadn’t exactly known he’d torn Eddie to pieces when he left, but still. Eddie felt a lot of resentment suddenly boiling over.

“Well, some of us didn’t have much of an option,” he said, nodding down to Mia.

He would never let Mia think any of his situation was her fault, but she was too young to understand what he was suggesting, and he maybe wanted to let Steve know that he was a bit hurt.

“Oh.” Then, it seemed to hit Steve what he was implying. “Oh! She’s yours?”

“Uh huh. So, you having car trouble?” Eddie didn’t need to prolong this, not with Mia still whimpering and crying in his ear.

“Oh, uh. Yeah. So I kinda haven’t had an oil change since I lived here and I think my car is trying to rebel,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s been a year since you’ve changed the oil in that thing?” Eddie almost couldn’t believe that Steve would let his car end up like that.

“Well, they’re expensive in the city and I haven’t had time to do it myself. And since I’m in town for a week, I thought I’d just get it take care of here. Is that…okay?” he seemed hesitant, like maybe he was actually realizing that Eddie was a bit pissed off.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re here for. Leave the keys and we’ll get it back soon,” Eddie nodded at the counter as he started to walk around the lobby, bouncing Mia in his arms to try to get her to fully calm down.

“What’s her name?” Steve asked from much closer than he expected.

“Mia.”

“She’s beautiful. Is her mom working too?”

“No clue what her mom’s doing. Haven’t seen her since she was born,” Eddie tried not to have an attitude, but the subject was not one he liked to discuss with anyone, let alone the man who unintentionally broke his heart.

“Oh.”

Eddie looked over to see Steve frowning, his brows furrowed, lost in thought.

“Yeah. Sorry for the crying. She wasn’t supposed to be here today and her nap schedule is fucked now,” Eddie closed his eyes. “Sorry, screwed up. She normally is the happiest baby in the world.”

Steve searched Eddie’s face, then looked at Mia with a smile.

“I could hold her if you want. I’m pretty good with babies usually.”

“You have a lot of experience with babies?” Eddie asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

“I babysit a lot between shifts in the city.”

“Shifts?”

“I’m a waiter, which isn’t the best, but it pays the bills and I get a free meal on the clock, so,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I can try at least? Might make it easier for you to work.”

Mia started crying louder again, like she had realized that she still wasn’t asleep for her nap.

“Mia, baby, c’mon. You can close your eyes and go to sleep, I got ya,” Eddie said softly, trying to get her to calm down enough to rest her head on his shoulder.

He was certain she would have some oil stains on her clothes after this, but he couldn’t really find a reason to care right now.

“Eds, let me hold her for a second. You’re getting stressed out. She can tell you’re stressed,” Steve said quietly enough so no one else in the lobby would hear.

“I got it,” Eddie insisted, while Mia seemed to get more upset.

He felt like crying, but he couldn’t.

“I’m sure you do, but it’s okay to have some help sometimes, ya know?” Steve said.

Which is ironic coming from Mr. I Don’t Need Help himself.

“Fine. Here,” Eddie finally gave in, passing Mia over to him.

She slowly stopped crying, looking at Steve with wide eyes.

“Hi princess. Aren’t you so sweet? What’s got you so upset, little one?” Steve asked her, slowly starting to do a bouncing/rocking motion with his legs that had her little head drooping onto his shoulder.

She let out a loud sigh, like the weight of the world was leaving her shoulders, and Eddie felt tears pricking his eyes.

“That’s it, Mia. You can sleep right here, okay?” Steve whispered.

Her eyes were still open, but Eddie could see the long, slow blinks that told him she’d be asleep soon.

“How?”

Steve smiled at him, but didn’t answer.

“I’m gonna go back in the shop, but come get me if she starts crying again?” Eddie was pretty desperate to finish up for the day, wanted to get home as soon as possible and make sure Mia could properly nap.

“Yeah, take your time. Can’t leave without my car anyway,” Steve winked.

Dammit.

Eddie ignored the stupid butterflies in his stomach, ignored the way his heart skipped a beat, and turned to go back into the shop.

He couldn’t let Steve have an effect on him, not now, not after the hurt he’d caused him.

———————————————————————

He told himself that his constant looking through the glass window to the lobby was just to make sure Mia was okay.

He told himself it had absolutely nothing to do with how hot Steve looked pacing around the lobby slowly as she slept on his shoulder.

He told himself that the way Mia was holding onto his shirt and drooling on him wasn’t adorable at all.

He told himself it didn’t hurt that Mia looked like she could be Steve’s just as much as she could be Eddie’s.

“Dude, the oil is spilling,” Jesse said from behind him.

Jesse was their newest hire, worked every Saturday and most afternoons while he got through his certification program at the community college.

“Shit,” Eddie turned back to Steve’s car, rushing to put a new can under it so the rest of the oil could drip into it.

“You good, man? You seem a little out of it today,” Jesse checked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just wasn’t ready for bringing Mia today is all. I’m fine,” he said with his attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I can finish this one up if you want. You can get Mia ready to go since this is the last car,” he offered.

“Nah, it’s that guy’s car anyway. He’s watching her,” Eddie said as he checked over a few other things under the hood.

Adam had turned the music off when he finished his last car, his station almost cleaned up.

The shop was as quiet as it ever gets, which is the only reason he heard the loud laugh coming from the lobby.

His favorite laugh.

He looked over to see Steve dancing around with Mia, bouncing her around, booping her nose, tickling her neck.

Steve was laughing while Mia smacked at his cheeks excitedly.

She was babbling something, but he couldn’t quite hear it through the door and window.

“Can Adam and I head out, then?” Jesse asked, wiping his hands on a towel he kept in his pocket.

“Yeah, man. Thanks for your hard work today,” Eddie said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Adam waved from his spot and gave him a wink as he looked over at Steve holding a giggling Mia.

He’d come out to Adam accidentally on his first day. He made a joke about how he probably should have celebrated his graduation with a man so there was no risk of pregnancy, and then froze.

He could have passed it off as just a joke, but Adam looked at him, tilted his head, and said, “yeah, me too.”

They’d been good friends ever since.

Eddie shook his head at him, didn’t want him to get any ideas about Steve being more than just a temporary babysitter.

Adam shrugged, like he wouldn’t push, but that he knew there was more to it.

They both left out the side door of the shop, and Eddie followed to lock it behind them.

He heard the lobby door open and looked over to see Steve walking in with Mia.

“Hey, you closing up?” Steve asked, smiling down at Mia still.

“Uh, yeah. She okay?” Eddie asked as he opened up the bottle of oil he needed to pour into Steve’s car.

“She’s great, aren’t you Mia? Just needed a power nap. Happy as can be now,” Steve tickled her side and then smiled at Eddie.

“Mama! Mama!” Mia was saying, slapping his cheek with her hands.

Eddie paled.

“Uh. Sorry. I didn’t even know she knew that word. I’ll take her,” he rushed to say, trying to wipe his hands off on his pant legs.

“Oh, it’s fine. Babies her age are just trying to put any word together with the sounds they know. She doesn’t actually think I’m her mama.”

“Right,” Eddie sighed. “I’m almost done.”

“Mama!” Mia said again, and Eddie had to turn away to hide his face.

A part of him was hurt, thinking how unfair it was that Mia didn’t have a mom. A bigger part of him was upset that she’d decided to do this with Steve of all people.

And a tiny part of him was jealous that she hadn’t quite put together any form of Dada yet.

“Is that your daddy over there? He works real hard, huh?” Steve was saying to her, and Eddie could feel his eyes on his back as he worked. “You’re gonna be a big helper someday aren’t you?”

“Ha!” Mia exclaimed.

“Yeah, helper!” Steve said.

Eddie hated that he was so good with her.

He hated that he was picturing a future with Steve and Mia, images moving rapidly through his head of Steve and Mia cooking dinner together while Eddie cleaned up after a long day at the shop, of Eddie and Steve having date night while Wayne watched Mia, of all three of them going to the park, dropping Mia off at her first day of school.

He blinked it all away.

Those thoughts were dangerous.

He finished up, closing the hood of Steve’s car and removing the drip pan from underneath. He lowered it to the ground and turned back to see Steve watching him with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“All set. Oil change, filter change, labor is usually $40, but since you were such a huge help with Mia, I can give you 50% off,” he said.

He would probably get questioned about it, but if he ended up having to get the rest taken out of his paycheck, so be it.

Steve, no matter how he felt about him, had done him a major favor today when he didn’t have to. He owed him something and this was the best he could do.

“Oh, I didn’t mind. She’s an angel. Plus, wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I won’t. It’s fine. I insist.”

Steve shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll pay full price.” He poked Mia’s cheek and smiled at her. “But I wouldn’t turn down dinner?”

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Dinner? No offense, but I don’t think dinner is really in my budget, man.”

Steve huffed a small laugh.

“No, no. I meant, like I could treat you to dinner. Tonight or tomorrow?”

“How is treating me to dinner payment for you watching my daughter?” Eddie asked confused.

“Just is. Please?” Steve asked.

“Um. I can see if Wayne can watch her tomorrow night?”

The confusion only grew when Steve excitedly jumped up and down, waving Mia’s hand in the air in excitement.

She was giggling and saying “mama” constantly, which was no longer embarrassing, but definitely not ideal.

“That’d be amazing, Eds. I’m staying with the Hendersons if you wanna just call and let me know what time works for you,” Steve said.

Dustin hadn’t mentioned.

Steve was staying with the Hendersons and Dustin hadn’t even mentioned this to Eddie.

Dustin was the only person who knew about his pining for Steve besides Wayne, and he hadn’t even fucking mentioned.

“Oh, Dustin, uh, didn’t say you were staying with him. Or visiting at all for that matter,” Eddie said as he handed Steve his keys.

“Really? He told me you were excited to catch up,” Steve’s brows furrowed.

“Did he?”

Steve handed Mia over to Eddie, looking a bit lost all of a sudden with his hands empty.

“Yeah.” Steve reached into his back pocket for his wallet and took out $40. “Do I need to sign anything?”

Eddie took the $40 and put it in his pocket for now, and watched as Steve transformed from a happy, confident person to a shy, unsure version of himself.

“Nope, all good.” Eddie stepped closer to Steve for a moment, sucked up his pride, and waved Mia’s hand at him. “Say bye to Steve, sweetheart.”

“Ba!” Steve smiled at her. “Mama!”

“Bye, sweet girl. Maybe we can hang out before I go?” Steve turned to look at Eddie, silently begging to see Mia again.

“If you want to, sure. I mean, you could also just come over for dinner tonight if you want. I was gonna make spaghetti. Wayne’s at work. I’m sure Mia would love to have someone to play with while I cook,” Eddie knew he’d regret it, but Mia would be happy to have someone keeping her company on her play mat while he worked on the sauce.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night or anything-“

“You aren’t. I’m not the best chef in the world, but it’s edible. And I’m sure if you’re living with Robin, you’re not eating homemade meals very often,” Eddie lightly teased.

“And what makes you say that?” Steve’s hands went on his hips.

Eddie’s breath left his body.

He’d missed Steve.

He’d missed his bitchiness, his care, his smile, the way he always watched over them all, even when they didn’t deserve it.

“Just figured you two would have been on the news for accidentally burning an apartment building down by now,” Eddie shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant, but knowing he was failing miserably.

“I’ll have you know I’m a great cook,” Steve said. “I have to be or else we would end up on the news because Robin burnt our apartment building down.”

Steve smirked at him and Eddie was a goner.

He cleared his throat and patted Mia on her back when she startled in his arms.

“So, how’s six sound? I usually have Mia in bed by 7:30 so we have a pretty strict evening schedule,” he said, hoping his voice sounded even and controlled unlike his thoughts that were far from it.

“Six is great! I just have to run by the Sinclair house to bring Erica her gift first.”

“You got Erica a gift?”

“No, Erica picked out the gift, told me not to show my face in town unless I brought it, and then gave me the exact time to bring it,” Steve admitted.

“Sounds like Erica,” Eddie laughed. “What did the queen insist on you buying her?”

“Some D&D book? I dunno, I live near a shop that has a bunch of tabletop game stuff and she said they would have it so I wrote down the title and went there and they did. I may never recover, emotionally or financially.”

Eddie laughed again, but this time, Steve smiled, a light pink dusting across his cheeks like he was proud of himself for making Eddie laugh.

“Well, those can get pretty expensive. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have it though. Anything that helps her kick all our asses is always good with her,” Eddie said.

“That’s what I figured. So six? You still at the same place?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Key is under the plant by the steps so come on in.”

“Oh. Okay,” Steve nodded, looking down at his feet. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Nah, just yourself and your patience for Mia’s antics.”

“She’s your daughter so I expect shenanigan after shenanigan.”

“Hey!”

Steve threw his hands up and walked over to his car.

“Just saying!”

“Do you hear this, Mia? And you call this guy mama,” Eddie said, tone serious.

He was too busy looking at Mia to see the way Steve blushed as he got into his car.

“See you at six!” Steve said before closing his door, starting his car, and backing out of the shop.

Eddie closed the shop door behind him, then gathered up Mia’s things into the diaper bag made just for the shop.

“You ready to go home, superstar?”

Mia snuggled against his shoulder, probably still sleepy from not having her full afternoon nap.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He set the $40 on the counter with a quick note saying what it was for, in too much of a rush to do a full receipt for it.

He hit the lights, and locked the front door before making his way to his van.

Mia was asleep on him, her slow breathing and occasional snore making him smile.

“Oh, we’re in big trouble now, aren’t we Mia?” he whispered before he set her in her car seat.

He knew he could just go into this knowing he couldn’t get attached.

But he knew he already was.

He always had been.

Probably always would be.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mechanic eddie munson #single dad eddie munson #wayne munson #robin buckley

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stupidlittlespirit · 2 months

Text

Rating: SFW Type: Drabble, Tags: None, no use of pronouns for reader, accidental confessions Word count: 1400 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Reader meets Reigen's mother and learns something new.

You hear her before you see her.

The office door is slightly ajar when you come back from your lunch break, and where you stand on the landing, you can catch the sound of voices from within.

It's not altogether uncommon. Clients come and go throughout the day. It wouldn't be the first time you'd returned to find someone already waiting, but the closer you get to the door, the less and less the conversation inside sounds like one of a customer-provider one.

The unidentified voice is female, slightly husky like they smoke, and it sounds like the owner is scolding the only other person inside the office today: Reigen.

"....Absolutely no reason to keep paying out for this place, Arataka." Says the woman. "It isn't too late to just give up and come home."

You frown. Definitely not a client, then.

Quietly, you nudge the door open and enter the hallway. Whoever it is, Reigen doesn't sound happy to have them here.

"We've talked about this," he's saying, sounding considerably exhausted. "I like my job here. I don't want anything else, you know tha-"

"Don't be ridiculous! You sound just like your father, you know. All caught up in something that you know is going nowhere, but you're too proud to admit it!"

The comment gets under your skin. This unwelcome visitor sounds utterly unbearable, and you decide you ought to make your presence known before things get too heated.

You hang your bag up on the coat rack and round the corner, ready to interrupt whatever the person is about to say next until you catch sight of her.

The stranger is short. She's a plump woman, dressed in a garish long skirt and sweater combo with a shock of bright red hair that's pulled back into a tortoiseshell clip at the back of her head. The woman turns when you clear your throat, as does Reigen, and the look of surprise on both of their faces is almost identical.

The unbearable stranger is his mother. They look so similar, the same face in different flavours, and she bears all the same hallmarks of her son: freckles, soft pale skin, and an unconventially attractive face.

Her dark eyes flick up and down your form, critical and assessing, and behind her, Reigen is pulling a face that suggests he'd rather being ripping his own toenails off with pliers than be in his current predicament.

No one speaks for a moment.

Reigen clears his throat, awkward. "You're back early." He never sounds so disappointed to see you, but right now it seems that he'd much rather you'd run off for the rest of the day than return to him.

"Sorry," you say immediately, looking between them. "I can come back later, it's fi-"

"Oh!" Reigen's mother claps her hands together and an oddly broad smile cracks her face. "Don't be silly, love. I know you anyway, come in!"

She says it like it's her office.

"You... know me?" You ask, frowning a little. You've never met this woman in your life, only heard of her existence in stories.

Reigen rarely speaks of his parents. The subject has only come up once: both of you drunk, alone in his apartment on his birthday, where he had confessed how tumultuous their relationship was. It had been the first time you'd hugged him. The first time he had cried a little in front of you, his face in your neck and your own eyes damp. You think about it a lot.

Bad parents are hardly a new concept to you.

Reigen's mother nods quickly, ignorant to your internal recall of her.

"Of course!" She exclaims, her earlier cool tone replaced with something falsely friendlier. "You're the one on his phone!"

Your eyes flick to Reigen, who suddenly looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You smile politely, a little confused. "On his....?"

"His wallpaper, whatever you kids call it," she gushes. "I'd recognise you anywhere. All he does is talk about you!"

Reigen chokes on his spit. "Mom, no I-!"

"Be quiet, Arataka," his mother chides dismissively. "Oh, you're so pretty!" She turns her attention back on you, her attitude flip-flopping so violently it almost gives you whiplash. "Has he taken you to dinner yet? He said he would, but you know men, they're just terrible at-"

"Mom!" Reigen snaps, strained and completely humiliated. His face is so red that you briefly wonder if he has any blood in the rest of his body. "Enough, please!"

Reigen's mother rolls her eyes at her son's clear embarrassment. "You shouldn't be so shy. It doesn't get you anywhere, you need to be braver at your age."

You're unable to do much except watch their exchange in vague surprise. All of this is news to you. You're close with Reigen and so fond of him that it's ridiculous, and in spite of the fact that you've spent many a night wondering what it might be like to wake up with him next to you, you never considered that it might be a possibility that he felt the same way.

Reigen covers his face with his hands, peeking out between his played fingers.

"He is brave," you say boldly. Overbearing parents like this are a source of annoyance for you and Reigen's sad face from that night is visible in your mind's eye. You feel an urge to stick up for him. "Very brave."

His mother raises her over-plucked eyebrows at you and Reigen drops his hands, staring at you in surprise.

"And he already asked me to dinner," you tell her, enjoying the way she seems a little flustered at your interruption. "I said yes."

Reigen's mother turns to look at him. "You didn't tell me that."

Reigen swallows and when it's clear that he can't quite conjure an answer, you speak up again.

"He's a big boy," you say, folding your arms across your chest. "He can keep secrets if he wants to."

His mom frowns. She appears to want to say something more on the topic, to needle him further, but rather than try again, she backs off at your slight pressure.

"Well," she says brusquely, smoothing down her sweater. "Good. That's good."

She picks up her purse from his desk and shoulders it, clearly having decided her time for bothering her son has run its course, and spares you another up-and-down glance as she makes her way to the door.

"I don't want to wait another ten years for grandchildren," she says, half to you, half to Reigen. "Although, best to wait until you've got a proper job to have a baby, Arataka, you can't start a family in place like this."

You do very well to keep the look of disbelief from your face. The woman knows how hurtful the comment is and you don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothers you.

"Make sure you're using condoms for now," she snips, one last smart remark on her way out. That one is directed at you, and though you hear Reigen's strangled sound of mortification, you steamroll over him to prevent him from suffering any more torture.

"We're not," you say, with a horrible, smug smile. If she wants to play mean, you can too. "I like it better without, but thanks for your concern. Anyway, it was nice to meet you."

Reigen's mother looks mildly horrified at your retort. Reigen, on the other hand, is caught somewhere between awe and laughter, and you cross the room to stand beside him. It's a silent dismissal of her.

With a huff, she bids her son farewell and strides out of the office without so much as a glance at you. The door bangs on its hinges and you wait a minute to make sure she's properly gone before you turn to your boss with a smirk.

"I'm your wallpaper?" you ask.

Reigen flounders, cheeks cherry again. "I- Well, no, I just- it's both of us and Mob, it isn't-"

You laugh and roll your eyes, pretending not to notice the way your chest squeezes with affection. "Pick me up at eight, tonight," you say, patting his shoulder and heading towards the staff room.

"What?" Reigen yelps, watching you go.

"For dinner, asshole." You grin, backing up through the door.

Reigen doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. Neither do you.

#reigen arataka #reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #reigen arataka/reader #reigen arataka/yn #reigen arataka x yn #reigen arataka x y/n #reader insert #mp100 #mp100 reigen #mob psycho 100 #mp 100 #reigen fluff #reigen aratakaxreader #he said no pickles!!!!!#my fics

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luveternals · 6 months

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paring: 1. john 'soap' mactavish x top male reader, implied soap x ghost (spoiler: if you ship them, sorry) rating: mature, MDNI cw: death, blood, depiction of killing, mention of war, major character death(i guess), morally grey reader, obsession, non explicit sexual content. tell me if I missed anything else. disclaimer: all mistakes are my own. I never played cod. I don't know bananas about the military. and i'm not doing research bc I literally don't have the time to fall into another rabbit hole... ⁓ ⁓ ⁓

Just watch from afar. You tell yourself. You will not get anything other than that. Because you know if you dare to get too close, there’s a chance it won’t end well.

You lean against the railing, sweat dump hair sticking to your forehead. He is on the other side of the training grounds, muscles working as he tackles his opponent to the ground.

The grin spreading across his plush lips. The look of surprise that replaces it when the other flips their position. The loud, beaming laugh that bubbles from deep inside his chest when they clap hands, and he gets pulled back onto his feet.

Gorgeous.

Someone calls your name, and when you snap out of whatever trance you’ve fallen, you find you’ve moved closer to the scene at some point.

You shake your head and redirect your body to the person demanding your attention. Your new captain waves his hand at you.

It hasn't been more that a few days since you've been reassigned, landed away like an object, and already they are sending you out with a squad you know nothing of aside from the little written info given to you before you moved to this new base.

You figure they don’t care for tests when the results are destined to be useless in the face of real life.

You only have time to glance over your shoulder, and he’s already leaving, walking further and further away from you. And you suppose there's never been any chance for him to ever notice you to begin with.

The building as eerily quiet, nothing like the deafening chaos that had broken the moment your squad had revealed itself to the enemy.

There is a body laying at your feet, eyes staring emptily at the ceiling while the hole between them drips gore into the dusty floor. The gun in your hand is cold despite the echoing ‘bang’ still ringing in your ears.

“All clear,” a voice whispers into your earpiece. “Meet you at exfil, everyone,” another adds.

The face of your victim is smooth, years away from any wrinkles. You pause for a second, taking in every detail.

The gun burns in your trembling grip despite the gloves, blood pooling at your feet. He hadn’t been wearing a helmet, terror now frozen in his empty gaze. His inexperience showed in his lack of scares and wrinkles, expression made macabre with the fresh hole shot between his eyes.

“Was that your first?” someone had asked when you made it to exfil and found your seat in your team’s assigned vehicle. You didn’t bother answering, they had their own regardless.

Your first kill. You tucked your gun away and ignored it for the rest of the ride.

You step out of the building, clothes sticky with wet filth and feet leaving dark stains into the ground. But the gun is steady in your hands, the next bullet ready to be fired. The mess left behind is nothing but an unfortunate aftermath.

“What a face,” someone from your team says the moment you find yourself at exfil, “seen the devil?”

“The last kid I killed,” you say with a hum, “iIt reminded me of the first time I shot someone.”

“Your first kill was just a kid?”

You don’t bother to give an answer.

It’s three years later that you meet him officially.

You’ve never dared to get anywhere close to him, and simply learned about him instead.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish.

Nothing about him changed. To say he seems to have walked out of your memories it’s an understatement.

What’s different now though is the people that are part of his team.

The TF141. Who hasn’t heard of them?

Respected for their efficiency, infamous for the stories that circulate about them.

You stand to attention when you notice them making their way towards you.

The captain is the first to shake your hand, but Soap is, of course, the one that has your attention zero on him.

“I’ve heard of yah,” he says, and you have to fight the urge to beam. Has he? “Efficient, strong-willed, with nerves of steel. Say, he’s gonna be the perfect babysitter, ay Lt?”

Soap turns to beam at the looming figure that steps to stand behind him and fire burns into your vein, angry and ugly.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. The person Soap seems to be the closest to.

“You’re gonna scare him off, Johnny,” Riley only gives him an unimpressed look before shifting his attention to stare at you. Friend of foe?

It's ridiculous how the two of them standing so close sends the urge to clench your hands into fist through your body.

They’ve been a team for years now, it’s only natural for them to grow close.

Logically, that would be it. But you find yourself hating the mere idea.

“It’ll be a pleasure to work with you,” you say, gentle smile grazing your lips. It doesn’t reach your eyes and whether Soap sees it or not, you know Ghost does.

You let it spread wider until it turns into a dangerous smirk.

Being pinned to the floor with a gun to the temple takes you by surprise, but it’s a natural reaction before your logic replaces it. You should have seen it coming, you’ve grown overconfident in your skills during the years, too cocky even.

The odds had never been in your favor. They knew somehow of your plan and now the 141 has been sent to scatter.

You’ve lost sight of the others, your comms stolen by the enemy.

There are bodies littering the floor, abandoned weapons taking up the little remaining space.

“I’m gonna love this,” the bastard pressing you into the floor hisses into your ear.

Bang.

When it comes to a fight, skill is not the only factor that comes into play.

you jerk to the side and pain blossom through the side of your head, still you throw your weight back and the man falls off you with a surprised shout.

You jump him, elbow falling against his throat, and steal the gun from his slacked grin.

The echoing bang sends stars into your vision and splatters his brain into the floor.

You stumble onto your feet, hand flying up to press against the side of your head. The ringing against your ear makes you squint and when you feel a new presence enter the room you spin around on instinct and fire your weapon, body slamming against the wall as someone throws their weight against you.

Click.

The magazine is empty.

“I suppose I should count ourselves lucky, you and I, hmm?”

Riley is holding your knife against your throat, your gun aiming at his chin.

He slips your knife back into its holster and steps away to look around the room. “You could have stabbed the shite out of him before he’d even had the chance to shoot you. Afraid of knives or someth'?” he asks, and you know he’s making fun of you despite his mask hiding his expressions.

You pull your hand away from your head and stare at it. Blood stains the glove and drips down your face, but the bullet had only grazes at the skin of your head. “Not the kind weapon I care for.”

“They are made to be used,” Captain Price says through the comms. “You don’t carry them just because,” he says, and despite the disinterest Riley is currently exerting, you know he purposely had a hand in this.

“When we get back we will brush over your combat skills.”

You feel like a child, adults staring you down after they found out you haven’t done your homework. Not a soldier making his way back thorugh an abandoned building to meet with the rest of his team.

“There is no need for that, sir,” you say with a sigh.

“Then why haven’t you used it?”

No one is immune to trauma. And in some degree we all know we’re suffering from it in some way or another. We either don’t want to acknowledge it or are simply too broken by it to realize we’re under it’s influence.

You fall silent. It’s not that you don’t know how to answer. Nor is it that you’re too broken by the sweet, soulless voice that whispers into your ear like a devil on your shoulder without its angel.

It’s the fact that they would not understand. Perhaps, their gazes would soften with sympathy, perhaps they would harden with disgust.

Still, they wouldn’t understand. To do so they would have to experience it for themselves. And you know there only little chance for it to end as it did you.

And so you let them find their own answers; they have them of their own, anyway. Assumptions are good enough for it.

Like always.

Perhaps, you’ve lost your touch. Perhaps, it’s the alcohol easing your guard to relax, attention stolen away by the pleasurable warmth spreading through your limbs.

He can sense your eyes on him tonight. And each time he turns to meet your gaze with a confident, amused smirk.

Right now, he leans against the bar, perfect body stretching against the counter as he moves to press his lips against your ear, “is staring all you gon’do?” he purrs, hot breath sending chills down your back and straight between your legs.

You’re frozen in delighted surprise. Your voice cracks when you find it again. “It depends.”

“Hmm,” he chuckles, finger tickling up your throat to press against you Adam's apple, “on what, pray tell?”

Initial shock gone, it’s your time to smirk. You take his hand in yours and press a kiss against his palm, then run your tongue between two of his fingers. “Am I your first choice tonight?”

He falters, body going rigid at the words. His attention flicks to the side, gaze staring somewhere just past your shoulder.

You can feel the intensity of his first choice burning a hole on the back of your head.

You shove the bitterness aside and pull you man closer by the hips.

“It's okay, darling. I’ll show you how you got nothing but to gain from this.”

The way out of the pub and into your room is a blur of heat and hunger. He lets out a loud groan, gripping your shoulders as you press him against the door, lips sucking possessive marks down his throat and chest.

He flips your position and slams you against the wall, hands pulling at your clothes and lips biting against your own.

You smile and push him away. “Impatient.” with a second push he falls onto the bed, legs spread open and chest heaving with anticipation, “is this what him breaking your heart makes you feel?”

He tenses for the second time this night, hesitation washing over the lust hazing his gaze. But you're already climbing onto the bed, pulling him closer by the knees and wrapping his legs around your waist.

“Don’t worry, darling. Once I’m done with you, you won't have any energy to do anything but think of me.”

The air is knocked out of your opponent, back hitting the mat below your feet with a dull thump.

Soap groans and huffs out a laugh as he claps his hand into yours, and you pull him to his feet.

“Cap, I think he doesn’t need the knife after all,” he says and slips his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, so he can grin at you. His gaze is heavier than it has ever been, touch lingering longer and longer the more he finds reasons to touch you.

“I know how to use it, It’s just not my preferred weapon,” you say, “I find using it a little too… personal.”

Other knives are different from the real thing. They might be duller, sharper, newer, older. But they are not the same thing.

You hold it under the moonnight, letting it shine as it reflects under it. The handle has long lost its colors, the design dulled and smoothed over by time and use.

You circle your hand around it and for some reason it feels out of place now that it fits the shape properly, making the grip more comfortable, firmer, steadier. Your fingers feel like they don’t belong there, like they are too large now, too callous, too stained.

You let it spin around your fingers, and it moves with too much grace and elegance, too much confidence, you much will to kill.

Not like the first time you’ve welded it. When the moon shone through the window like a witness. When your fingers trembled as wet warmth spread over them. Your breath came out quicker, harsher, punching through your lungs with panic.

You were clueless back then, armed only with knowledge taken from science lessons at school. Guided by repressed rage, pushed over by fear.

Your real first kill.

The knife spins faster, only to sink into the wood of the window frame when you stab it into it.

Nothing is going to turn out tonight. This Is how they’ve put it when they’d sent you out on stakeout. Your presence here is a simple, mostly useless precaution.

You watch him from the table, posture leaned against the chair into a careful, lazy slump.

While you're open about your staring, he’s on the balcony, eyes scanning the streets below. Still you can feel his attention on you, muscles tense as neither of you outright acknowledges thick the tension weight over your heads.

The knife is a solid weight against in its holster, pressing flat against your thigh when you tense your leg. You reach below the table and play with the handle.

This night is not going to end like everyone expects it. You know.

He shifts his position and this time turns to meet your gaze head on, eyes scanning your expression and jaw clenching st what he finds.

Neither of you is waiting for the enemy, no. He knows.

141 finds you standing in the middle of the room. Gun warm in one hand. Knife stained red in the other.

Two bodies laying on the ruined carpet at your feet. Only one their foe; neither your friend.

They hold a funeral for him. Only his closest friends are permitted to assist. He had no family left.

They let you in when you show up with the rest of the team.

You suppose you shouden’t be surprised. They see you as the one who’d avenged their friend.

Soap clings to your clothes, desperate lips pressing against any part of your skin he can reach.

You try to enjoy the feeling, bask at his touch, but the salt you taste on his lips sends an old, familiar raging fire through your veins.

Despite being out of the picture he still stands in your way.

—

Name: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Status: KIA

His and his teammate's position had been compromised. Suspected cause of the mission failure is that someone set an ambush before their arrival on site. Attacker has been eliminated but whoever gave the information away is still to be found and caught.

—

You read through his file, brushing over the official story given to explain his death.

He should be grateful, wherever he is now in his afterlife. You’ve given him an honorable death, all things considered.

You do regret not getting your money back before getting rid of that mercenary.

Carefully, you slip the file back where it belongs, wiping away any trace that would tickle suspicion out of the most perceptive eye.

You’ve played this game for longer, than anyone could have ever guessed. The other player none other than yourself.

As you’ve known since the very beginning, you've let yourself step too close to the edge, and now it’s not your heart that’s gotten broken, by your mind.

Obsession.

You’ve fallen, and have no intention of climbing back up.

He is yours now, whether he knows it or not. He belongs to you, body, mind, and soul, whether he wants it or not.

~ ~ ~ thank you for reading! hope you liked it. tell me if there's anything I should fix, as I already said, I don't have the time to make this more accurate with research, but I'm more than open to suggestions and constructive criticism.

#story day #john soap mactavish #x top male reader #call of duty #top male reader #dom male reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #male reader #cod x reader #johnny mactavish #reader insert

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avatar-trash-ayyy · 1 year

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Title: To See

Characters: Jake Sully, Neytiri, Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri

Rating: PG

Summary: Jake Sully and Neytiri are busy raising their young family, which includes teaching Kiri how to speak. Her first word takes him by surprise.

A gift for @nattikay 🥰 I used VERY minimal Na’vi but if anything here is so inaccurate it hurts to read, let me know and I will fix it 😂😂😂

——

“C’mon Kiri, say ma sempu. Or ‘pu. I’ll even take poo poo.”

Kiri sat down while chewing on a piece of softened wood, staring wide eyed at her adoptive father. Jake sighed and sat down with her. The mat, expertly woven when the last one wore out, only lightly rustled under his weight.

Jake repeated the word, palm on his chest for emphasis. “Ma sempu. Sempu.”

Kiri stuck out her tongue. Neytiri walked into their abode, Lo’ak on her sling, with a basket of various mauti. Neteyam, crouching near his sister and father, pretended to play with his bow but eyed the treats greedily.

“Ma Jake, they said it’s normal for her to not speak yet. You shouldn’t push this on her.”

“Ma semboo!” Lo’ak shrilled, reaching out with a giggle. Kiri squealed with delight also, watching her brother be picked up and placed next to her on Jake’s lap.

“It’s not pushing, it’s drilling. Repitition.”

“That’s how sempu taught me.” Neteyam said, sitting up straight. He always prided himself on being a fast learner.

Not that his siblings cared: Kiri poked at Lo’ak’s ear and he smacked at her fat thigh with an annoyed grunt. Neytiri placed the fruit down and began to cut.

“At least both our sons listen to their father, yes? Kiri will learn in time. She listens, even if she does not share what is on her mind.”

“I have an idea of what’s goin’ on in there.” Jake answered flatly, as she now tugged too hard on Lo’ak’s ear and causing him to whine. He pulled them apart as they each got a single pasuk to distract themselves with. “I guess I just wanna make it even, you know? Neteyam and Lo’ak’s first words were—“

“Ma Sa’nah!” Lo’ak piped with outstretched hands to demand more food.

“Ma Sa’nok.” His mother patiently corrected. Neteyam swiped more fruit and nibbled, ignoring the conversation now.

“Babe. Don’t rub it in.” Jake said with a tickle to both toddlers. Neytiri shared a smile with him.

“I do not ‘rub in.’ I teach.” Neytiri then smirked to add, “Skxawng.”

That earned her a retaliating, if playful, tickle, and their little ones joined in. They pounced on her side and play growled. Jake took over the rest of the cutting as Neytiri took time to rough house with their youngest warriors. Neteyam took this as an opportunity to sit ceremoniously into his lap with a childish cackle, momentarily distrusting his cutting. Jake adjusted, ruffled his black hair, and went back to work.

It gave Jake time to think over his hidden fears. Fears he never admitted to Neytiri even if she saw right through him. When would Kiri begin to speak? What was normal for her? Jake finished the cutting and dumped the fruit into a swoasey.

Who was he kidding? Kiri’s very existence was far from normal. Even Mo’at was baffled by Grace’s avatar’s sudden pregnancy.

“The Great Mother may have given us a gift in this time of loss. When the People have nothing, she gives us a future.”

That was all the Tsahik could share. In other words: “Hell if I know.”

Not that Jake disagreed with the “gift” part. He fell in love with Kiri as quickly as he had with Neytiri and his sons. Still…a man’s first daughter was really something. Whatever her “normal” was meant to be, it was something he couldn’t wait to be a part of.

He just wanted to be sure she wasn’t falling behind because of someone like him.

Neytiri now had the two children laying over her chest, pretending to die in an over-dramatic fashion.

“Ma Eywa, not like this! The enemy has defeated me!”

Kiri stuck her tongue out again and blew a raspberry. Jake sighed and turned his attention to Neteyam to continue their mock battle. He decided that her lack of words was not worth worrying over tonight.

—-

“Kame.”

The voice was small, tired, but strong. Jake had been on the verge of sleep, a dream teasing just at the edges, as he laid peacefully with his mate and children. At this time of night, creatures croaked and whistled in the distance, the bioluminescence dimmed. A tad of his own light brightened slightly as he was roused further from rest.

An ear flicked when he heard it again.

“Kame.”

Finally, Jake lifted his head.

It was Kiri. She laid on her side; bright yellow eyes looked into his bleary ones, a chubby hand lightly touched her forehead, then outstretched to lay on his cheek. Then, it hit him.

Kame.

See.

“Kiri…” Jake reached out his own hand. Hesitant at first, and then he gently laid it over her head and patted her hair. Kiri’s eyes slowly closed and her face markings flickered and dimmed before finding equilibrium.

They opened, and once again those green eyes locked onto his own. Knowing and honest, piercing deep into his core and allowing him to see her own inner heart: one that was unabashed about her love for him and the others.

No, not just love — it was seeing. Kame. And that was when it hit Jake.

Kiri spoke. And it was kame. It was one word and not even the full phrase for what she was trying to tell him — but it was kame. And she said it to him.

The rush of paternal love and awe returned as fresh as the day they brought her home to the Omaticaya. And then it halted with a screech as Jake froze up.

A part of him dredged up old guilt over his past, a past he would have to tell Kiri one day. Another part of him was scared at the vulnerability of loving someone he did not deserve. He felt the same way about Neytiri, Neteyam, and Lo’ak. About the clan he now called family. The Sky People were gone but what else could take them away? What did he do to earn this unconditional understanding and acceptance of himself — ugliness and all?

But a final part of him — the part of him that became Toruk Makto, the one that had been ready to die for Neytiri and for what was right — that part of him glowed. If someone saw him, then that only meant one thing: he could see them too, and with the best parts of himself he had to offer.

Who was Jake Sully to deny this gift?

“Oel ngati kameie.” He finally breathed out. Kiri stuck out that tongue again, smiled, and then cuddled up into his chest. She fell asleep within moments, and Jake held her closer than he ever could again.

#avatar: the way of water #na'vi #neytiri #jake sully #jeytiri #Kiri #neteyam #lo’ak #na’vi babies

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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

Text

Help Me Understand - Steve Harrington x Reader

Help Me Understand (Rated T)

Request?: Yes (kinda? thank you @sattlersquarry for the idea!)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k (Yeah, whoops...)

Warnings: Slight language, Steve being hard on himself, Pining!Steve Harrington

Summary: Inspired by Iris (covered by Phoebe Bridgers and Maggie Rogers); You and Steve have been friends for a while now. You tell each other everything, from your highest to lowest moments. When you call him during the dead of night, Steve ends up learning more about your life...and his own feelings.

I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

God, it hurt him. He couldn’t bear to watch your chest expand and contract so dramatically. The sobs that gutted him to the core as they wretched themselves out of your throat. Your ability to form words had vanished five minutes ago, but it didn’t matter to either of you. Just knowing he was there listening was enough for you. For him, the shuddery breaths from your lips meant you were still alive and still safe.

To picture you in his mind, standing against the side of a building like this, when you felt so close. He wished with all of his might that he could just reach over and pull you into his lap. He longed to be able to stick his face in your hair and rub your back, murmuring a hushed jumble of calming phrases. But Steve knew he couldn’t…

…because he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.

He had stumbled around his room to tug on a pair of sweatpants and his yellow sweater. Even in the pitch black darkness of his room, Steve knew where everything was. He worked on autopilot at that point, the seduction of sleep all but ignored by his body when he heard your shaky voice on the phone.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he mumbled into the receiver, other hand already outstretched to grab his keys. “I’m goin’ to come pick you up, okay? Can you stay there for me? Will you be okay?”

“Oh…okay…” You sounded as fragile as glass when you responded. Steve could already hear the stifled gasps of air you were attempting to force down your throat into your lungs. If only Dustin’s stupid teleportation machine was real, the boy thought to himself as his eyes scoured the room. He could be beside you in an instant. Sure, the kid was a genius, but he really did take too long when it came to actually building his inventions.

Steve’s fingers wavered with uncertainty over a clean pile of laundry before his mind shouted screw it and he grabbed his old swim team hoodie. It was cold outside for early autumn and if he remembered correctly, you were adamant about how good those shorts and tank top made you feel. It was difficult for you to admit it. You never liked attention from others. All those eyes staring made you feel cheap and everything that your parents warned you about.

“I’m going to be right there, sweetheart,” his voice lowered as he spoke into the receiver.

You're the closest to heaven I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

The minute he found you was the minute he tugged you into his hold after he tugged the sweatshirt over your own t-shirt. Your face was streaked with tears. It felt cold and clammy against his hand as he cradled you. Your breathing was shallow and you were shaking. When Steve attempted to lean back to give you a proper once-over, your grip was a vice in his clothing. He was trapped against you.

On any other given day, he wouldn’t fight it. Yet seeing you like this, Steve couldn’t allow himself to be sucked in because you weren’t his.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, voice as sweet as honey, “what’s goin’ on? Why are you out so late?”

This only spurred on another onslaught of salty droplets to fall down your cheeks. The tears crashed like raindrops on your skin. They pooled against his thumbs, which were positioned against the outline of your jaw. He tilted your head back to allow your gaze to lock onto his.

You were so close to him. He could feel the warm puffs of your breath as they fanned against his own face. Your chest just barely brushed against his own as you took in shaky inhale after shaky inhale. He could smell the mixture of scents from you and his sweatshirt. If he closed his eyes, it’d be like he was dreaming. It would be like every night. The two of you standing outside, alone, eyes locked in a dead staredown. If he had only just dared to lean forward…

You weren’t his, he reminded himself once again. You. Weren’t. His.

“Please don’t take me home.” The words were whispered at such a quiet register, Steve would have thought he might have imagined them.

“What?” His brow knit together in confusion.

“I can’t go back there. Not now.”

Now this didn’t entirely strike Steve as odd. Whenever you would hang out, whether it was alone or with the kids and Robin, you would always be the last to leave. You would linger at Family Video until close if you could help it, staying late to have the longest debate over milkshakes and french fries at the diner. Even if Steve needed to drive past your street in order to get Dustin home for dinner, you would dutifully sit in the passenger seat until everyone was safe and sound.

Selfishly, he always believed that it was because you wanted to spend more time together. He was never against it. Could you blame him for not wanting to deny being with the one person that always saw past his previous mistakes and enjoyed hanging around the real Steve Harrington? The boy that knew nothing about typical pop culture, who would prefer to spend time at home than getting drunk at parties. He was the dethroned King Steve who barely survived senior year; the Steve who couldn’t get into a single college and was cut off by a jerk of a father. When he was at his lowest point after high school, pretty damn near convinced he’d never have another shot at love, you were there for him. . .

“College girls aren’t worth it, Steve,” you had remarked after he had gotten rejected for the sixth…seventh…time (according to Robin, it was the eighth). “They’re not ready for the commitment.”

“Maybe it’s just something, I don’t know, maybe there’s something wrong with me,” he lamented.

“There’s nothing wrong with you!” You held up a hand to silence Robin’s attempt to interrupt. “Maybe they just understand something you don’t.”

“Understand what?”

You had never elaborated on what you meant that day…or any of the other days after it. No matter how many times he asked– begged– you to explain, it was always the same outcome. Instead of giving him an answer, you would merely shake your head with a smile and change the topic without any regard for the time. Sometimes, you’d play the guessing game, forcing him to come up with the answer he desperately craved.

“Is it my hair?” he’d ask. “My charming personality?”

You would scoff and roll your eyes every time. “Not even close, Harrington.”

“You don’t think I have a charming personality?!”

Now here you were at the ultimate role reversal. Your chin resting in both of his hands, eyes sparkling from the wetness that gathered in the corners, and you were begging him. Why didn’t you want to go home?

“Sweetheart.” He wiped at the tears again. It was like an endless waterfall dripping from your eyes and it killed him. “Why don’t you want to go home? It’s late-”

“I can’t see them.” Your tone wavered. “You don’t understand. Steve, please don’t make me go back.”

“Then help me understand. No more guessing.”

Steve could tell you were shocked by his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so brash, but he was worried. He didn’t want to play the guessing game right now. All he wanted to know was what had you so afraid to go back home. If something had happened to you there… His hands fell down to his sides and clenched into fists in newly born rage.

As he noticed your wide-eyed and jittery expression, Steve immediately tried to soften his features. He guided his hands back up to your neck, cradling your chin against his thumbs. “Sweetheart,” he tried again. “I won’t take you back there if you don’t wanna go, but you have to tell me what’s going on, okay? Can you do that when we get in the car?”

“Can I…stay with you?” A bullet landed in the center of Steve’s heart when your request reached his ears. It wouldn’t be the first time you had stayed over at his house– there were plenty of times where you had both decided it would be too late to drive home– but it was the first time you asked like this. Your eyes flashed with a flicker of fear and you had shrunk back from his hold a bit. You reached down by your feet to pull up a backpack onto your shoulder. “It- it’s fine if I can’t. I can just see if- if Nancy would mind. Or, or Robin!!”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart. It’s okay. Of course it’s okay!” He knew it was his fault you had acted as you did. You had never seen him get upset before, especially like this. He just didn’t want you to think it was because of you. He took a small step forward and wet his lips. “You can always stay with me if you need to. I just need to know what’s wrong. Can’t have you straining those beautiful eyes of yours with tears, yeah?”

You stiffened for a moment so brief, Steve would have thought he imagined it. Was that confusion or fear that crept onto your face? He couldn’t tell. With nothing more than a nod, you timidly made your way over to his BMW. You tugged the fabric of his sweatshirt over your hands and curled into the leather seating. Steve followed soon after, making sure you didn’t have any other bags to put in the car before he sat in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.

The two of you drove in silence for a while with the radio barely heard over the speakers. It was a mindless form of white noise as you watched out the front window. Steve’s right hand automatically walked over the center console to rest on your inner thigh. You flinched slightly, but didn’t tell him to move. He took that as an invitation to silently rub slow circles into the plush skin under his thumb. His eyes flickered over to you at every traffic light, which was useless given how late it was at night and there was no one else on the road. He couldn’t complain though, as it gave him an excuse to judge your emotions.

You were much calmer than you were a few minutes ago on the sidewalk. Your eyelids were drooping from a need for sleep. When you did end up nodding off, Steve made sure to take the longer way back to his house to give you a few extra minutes of bliss before he needed to wake you again. There was a phantom of a smile etched on your lips during your slumber. It reminded Steve of how you used to be every day before the incident at Star Court.

You hadn’t seemed much like yourself after that day. Sure, you smiled and cracked your same jokes. But something was off. That smile never really reached your eyes anymore. You kept near him in crowds and over thought about interactions with others far too often. This wasn’t like you, but he knew you’d come to him when you were ready to talk about it.

As he pulled into the empty driveway of his house, Steve tried his best to rouse you as gently as possible. He reached over to adjust your hair, resisting the urge to plant a kiss at your temple…or to smell the new shampoo you had switched to upon his insistence last summer. He toyed with the hem of his sweatshirt. It wasn’t meant in a sexual way; he hoped the movement of fabric against skin would serve as a reminder of reality for you.

“Sweetheart…” he cooed, still clinging to the nickname for reasons beyond his understanding. “Sweetheart, we’re home.”

Steve had to try his best not to melt at your nose as it scrunched up when you dared to crack your eyelids open. You sniffed a bit to clear your airway after crying for so long. A sweatshirt covered hand slowly crawled its way up against your face and rubbed the sleep from your lashes. “H-home?” your sleep-drenched voice said, slightly fearful.

“Yeah, home.” Steve couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he unbuckled your seatbelt. It was something he could get used to the more he thought of it, calling his home yours. Now wasn’t the time to make that a reality, though. There were more important things to worry about now, like your safety. “My mom and dad are out in Atlanta again. Some stupid conference.”

Your shoulders noticeably relaxed. “Oh,” you whispered. “Okay.”

He was quick to help you get settled in the living room. Even though it was late at night and he would usually be dead asleep by now, Steve never felt more awake. He rummaged through closets to find you a change of clothes. Granted, it was more of his pajamas and a pair of boxers, but at least it was something. He set you up with some pillows and blankets before darting over to the kitchen to make you a warm cup of tea. There was a pout against your lips that soon cleared as he perched on the seat beside you, mug in hand.

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

And sooner or later, it's over

I just don't wanna miss you tonight

He waited a few minutes for you to drink some of the beverage before taking a breath to address the clear elephant in the room. “Can we talk about it?” he broached the subject carefully, afraid to send you into a teary fit again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you or make you think he was mad at you again.

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, I don’t know what to tell you, Steve-”

“Oh, do not go and bullshit me!” He couldn’t help his frustration. “Something is happening. You haven’t been acting like yourself for months now and I don’t know why! I was going to say something about it, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He paused to run a hand through his hair. “Then tonight happens and I- I just, goddamnit! Why won’t you talk to me?! Don’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you!” you were quick to defend. “I just don’t…I don’t want you to see me any different if I told you, I guess.”

Steve felt his eyes widen before his lips parted in shock. You were afraid of him. You were afraid to open up to him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. Did he really push you away? Did something he did cause this change in attitude? “Nothing you tell me can change the way I think about you,” he said, tone serious and hands gently placed against your shoulders over the blanket. Or how I feel about you, he added in his mind.

It was at that moment Steve Harrington realized the truth. The thought of losing you scared him shitless. You were his best friend, the person who always had his back. You were the one he would go to during his highest and lowest moments. He hated to see you sad and he felt like a piece of himself was missing every time you walked away from him. He couldn’t lose you…

…because he was in love with you. Somehow he always had been, Steve realized, but he just never understood it. Now he was afraid of what would happen if he told you.

“My parents and I…” you started, shifting awkwardly against the sofa cushions. Almost immediately, Steve’s full attention was back on you. “Well, we haven’t had the best of a relationship. It was always what they wanted. Good grades, never out past curfew if I could help it. They wanted extracurriculars, so I joined the school paper and the business club. It wasn’t enough. Then I ran for student council, applied to a bunch of colleges, got accepted into some. Then when the Dartmouth letter came-”

“You got into Dartmouth?!” He let the question of how you didn’t tell him go unsaid. It hurt how he seemed to have missed so much about your life. Did he really make all of your discussions about him and his problems? Were you trying to tell him these things and he just didn’t listen? Or did he just not care enough to ask?

You took a long but hesitant sip of tea, mug lingering by your lips a little too long. “Yeah,” came the soft reply. “Early decision.”

“That’s amazing!!” Steve prayed his tone wasn’t as strained as he thought it was. He was happy for you, truly. Yet he still couldn’t shake the sadness that stemmed from the meaning of this announcement. You might be leaving Hawkins, leaving him. “I’m so proud of you!”

Why didn’t you tell me?

“My parents want me to go.”

Oh. “So…” Steve moved his hands to rest against the sides of his legs. “Are you- you, uh, you’re gunna go?”

He watched you closely. You gave a heavy swallow, eyes moving from his face to the mug in your hand. Your lips were set in a tight line. “I don’t know.”

Oh. Steve knit his brow in confusion. “You don’t…you don’t know?”

A hand appeared from under the blanket cocoon to scratch at your temple, other still clutching the handle of the mug. Your teeth dug into your lower lip – a nervous habit you tended to do when you were lost in thought. “I’m just so tired of doing what they want me to,” you admitted after a moment of silence. “I don’t want to be the perfect-on-paper child they brag about. I’m not the person who wants to go to a big school on the other side of the country to learn about something I hate.”

“What kind of person are you?” It was an innocent question, but it was spoken urgently. Steve wanted to be able to learn more about you. He was desperate at this point. To know you had been uncomfortable to share what was really going

“I don’t know,” your voice was soft again. “I tried to talk to them about it– told them I thought about going to Hawkins Community for a few years– but they didn’t want to hear it. ‘Said I was just being influenced by everyone, I’m not the same person that I was. I should be more focused on my future instead of wasting time fooling around with people like–”

Your face clenched into a grimace and Steve reached over to grab your free hand. “People like me,” he finished for you. “Someone who has done nothing in life to amount to anything, who isn’t going anywhere. I get it. It’s okay, you can say it.”

“No!!” You exclaimed. “Steve, no, no that’s not what it is. They just…they just think that I want to stay here because- because-”

“Because what?” He wanted to punch himself as he realized he had made it about himself again. In all honesty, his outburst was more of a reminder to himself than anything else. He didn’t deserve to have someone like you, who was headed down a path to make a name for themselves. He was going to be trapped in Hawkins forever, not that he really minded because it was his home. It was more that he knew one day you’d have to leave and he’d be stuck without you. He just wished it didn’t have to be that soon.

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

“Because they think I’m just…I’m throwing my life away. But I’m not.” You broke your hand from his grip to wipe at your face again. Tears had started to drip down your face and Steve’s eyes scanned the streaks, practically memorizing every detail and feature against your skin. “When I tried to tell them, they didn’t want to listen. They asked me why I wanted to stay. I said it was because Hawkins was my home and I couldn’t see myself being anywhere else. They told me that if I was going to make that choice, I shouldn’t expect them to help me anymore.

“So I,” the words came out mixed with choked cries, “so I left. I ran like an idiot because I couldn’t take it.”

Steve’s heart shattered. “You’re not an idiot, sweetheart,” he soothed. “You’re far from it. I mean, you got into freaking Dartmouth. Do you know how smart you have to be to get in there?”

“So I’m smart enough for Dartmouth, but not smart enough to go for what I want?”

“What do you want?” He hadn’t realized it, but somehow the two of you had gotten closer as you spoke. Your face was a few inches away from his own, hand on the outside of his lap. He felt your fingertips lightly scratch against the fabric of his jeans as you gripped onto him. It was a flash of a spark– an electricity he wanted to be able to feel over and over again for the rest of his life. He never wanted you to move your hand. “What…would make you happy? Not your parents – just you.”

“What would make me happy?” Your gaze flickered for a moment down to his lips before meeting his eyes again. Steve felt his stomach do somersaults at this observation. He risked a quick glance at your own lips, which had gone back to being abused by your upper canines. “You really want to know what would make me happy?”

Steve nodded, praying he didn’t look as pathetic as he felt. “Yeah.”

“I’d really like for you to kiss me right now,” you admitted bashfully. Steve watched the flush creep up your neck and your cheeks. The color was a series of kisses made from embarrassment. It was a trail Steve found himself now desperate to follow upwards.

“W-what?”

“You don’t have to!!” The words tumbled from your lips and you made a conscious effort to scoot back against the opposite armrest on the couch. You set the mug on the coffee table and curled your knees up into your chest in an effort to make yourself smaller. It gave Steve a flashback to how you were in his car earlier, setting off a pang in his chest. “You know what? Just, uh, just- just forget it.”

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know, you're alive

He doesn’t know how it happened. All Steve remembers is sitting by you one moment, the next he cradled the small of your back in his hand and guided you closer. His hazel eyes scanned yours, silently asking for confirmation that what he was about to do was alright. He needed you to tell him it was okay. He didn’t want to cross a line that you would regret.

Clearly, the same thought had crossed your mind. “You wouldn’t regret it,” you asked. “Would you?”

Steve had never been more sure of an answer in his entire life. “With you? Never.”

The next thing he remembered feeling was your lips against his. They pressed against his own in a way that was softer than silk. Your upper lip was chapped from being out in the cold earlier, the lower swollen and plush from your nervous biting. But Steve wouldn’t change a single thing about this moment. You felt perfect against him, like a puzzle piece he had been searching for for months. Turns out you had been right in front of him the whole time, hidden in plain sight.

As he pulled you closer, Steve felt you sigh and relax against his lips. He decided to press his luck a little bit by deepening the kiss. He put his all into it, trying to express how he felt for you. It was his hope that you would be able to understand his silent plea. Don’t leave me, it said. Don’t hide from me. I love you.

I love you,

I love you.

When you finally broke apart, your hand worked its way back into his messy hair. A smile– a real one– lit up your face in the darkness of the room. The other hand was pressed against the side of his face, thumb playing with his lower lip lazily. Your face was still coated in color, but this time for a much happier reason. Or at least, Steve hoped it was.

“You okay?” It was a stupid thing to say, Steve knew that, but he couldn’t think of anything else. The two of you were already struggling a bit for breath. His brain had short-circuited at the thought of finally being able to hold you like he had, wondering if he’d ever have the chance to do that again.

You laughed dryly. “Damn, Harrington,” you said, gaze still locked onto him. “You kiss everyone like that for the first time?”

A bemused smile lifted Steve’s lips and he glanced down to his lap. “Just the ones that matter,” he replied. “The people I really want to kiss like that.”

Your breath hitched briefly and you scooted closer. “You’ve wanted to kiss me?”

Steve nodded softly. “For a while now,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to mess anything up because we’re friends, ya know? And with the little shits-”

You silenced him with another soft kiss on the lips. “I guess I was wrong about you, Steve,” you said. “Maybe you do understand.”

He blinked a few times to clear the surprise of your unexpected touch. “What- what are you talking about?”

Your tongue flicked out to licks your lips nervously. “There was never anything wrong with you, Steve,” you tried to explain. “Girls did like you. They just…they figured it out pretty quickly.”

“Figured what out?” If Steve wasn’t confused already, he was pretty sure he was now.

“That you already had someone waiting for you.” You cleared your throat and looked out at something else in the living room. “They just, uh, they just needed a little push to actually tell you how they felt.”

“...who?”

“You know, sometimes I forget how clueless you can be, Steve Harrington.” Your attention was back on him now. You ran a hand through his hair, sending more shocks through his body. He shivered in response as you leaned a bit closer to ghost your mouth over his. Steve had a rough idea of where you were going with this conversation, but like before, he wanted– needed– to hear it from your lips.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Me,” you admitted. “I…I’ve loved you for a while now, Steve, and not just as a friend. I don’t want to leave Hawkins. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Steve couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he fought the confusion. You loved him. Those words had come from you, you said it to him and he wasn’t dreaming.

“Because there’s too much I’d be leaving behind. No one would understand me.” You bit your lower lip again. “Not like everyone here does. It isn’t my dream to be a big shot in some city. It’s- it’s to be here, with the kids, and Robin, and…”

“And?” Steve’s smile grew.

“And with you.”

Steve reached over and lifted your chin up again, just as he did earlier that night in the street, so he could look you in the eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one corner of your mouth, then the other, before capturing your lips with his. He pulled you closer, a silent promise to never let you go. “If that’s what you want,” he said, “then that’s what we’ll do. And just so you know…”

He pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you, too. Always have.”

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

=================

Author's Note: Well, it took me a little while, but I'm back with another Steve Harrington fic. We're just going to blame midterm week for this and not my lack of creativity or my intense writer's block. This is also my second time writing this author's note because Tumblr literally ate my post to the point it said it didn't exist. So that's great.

In all honesty, this fic kind of got away from me and turned into a self-indulgent fulfillment of a "request" (I say request, but it was really more of an inspiration based on someone else's post about wanting a certain fic). I'm a sucker for pining Steve and the thought of him thinking I was beautiful during one of the lowest points of my life just made me melt.

If you liked this fic, please do me a favor and let me know! While likes are appreciated, things like comments and reblog will really help spread the word about my writing and give me the motivation to keep this up. Want to join my taglist? Send me a message or ask about which list you want to join (general or specific-character) and I'll add you!

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

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