#if by the time i have time for fic again what i want is not there i'm taking matters into my own hands ig

[pinkflower2003]

Hii could u do a MV1 x reader fic where Max and the reader were in a serious longterm relationship but broke up bc he wanted kids and she didn’t,, and a few months later he’s dating Kelly and is being a girldad to P when he bumps into the reader again and realises he’s not over her 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ LOOOOL I hope this request makes sense!!

Loss Of My Life - Max Verstappen x Reader

Based on – “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived”, “Loml” – Taylor Swift

Hi!! Thank you so much for your submission! So I wanted to change it a little bit, hope that’s okay!! So I’ve changed it so that it was the reader who wanted kids and Max didn’t, the reader is also a singer In this one (almost like how big Taylor Swift is, imagine her like that sort of star!) Idk if you have people performing at races but just imagine you do lol.

based off of this TikTok video

send in your submissions!<3

Word count : 2.3k

You and Max had been together for 6 years, 6 long years that made you think you were going to be together forever, he had been there through everything with you. You had both been together at the start of your careers and the height of your careers, and it was amazing to see how far the two of you could go. You had a very successful career in the music industry, bringing out albums that each became the highest-selling albums of the year and Max had a very successful career as a Formula One driver, winning world championships. But after 6 years, you had decided that maybe it was time for something more, you loved touring, singing your music, meeting fans, traveling around the world, but you wanted something more, you wanted a life with Max.

Deciding it was finally time to tell Max how you were feeling, you had sat down with him in his Monaco apartment whilst you had some time off from touring to write some new songs for a new album. Sitting down for food, you had decided there was no better time, “how do you feel about having children?”

Max hadn’t looked up from his food, just shrugging. “Don’t feel anything about them, I don’t want them.” He had replied bluntly, and your shoulders sank. You and Max had talked about children before, of course, you had, you can’t be in such a long-term relationship and not talk about what you both want in the future, but when you had brought it up before, Max had just replied with, “maybe one day, when we’re older and have achieved what we’ve wanted” and that was an okay answer at the time, at the height of your careers you had wanted to achieve more, but now you’d done it.

You’d become the best-selling artist of the decade, sold millions of albums, done a multimillion-dollar tour, travelled the world, you had done it all, and now seemed like the right time for the both of you to have this discussion. But clearly, Max had felt different.

“Max, I want a baby, I want to settle down with you, you’re my everything. We’ve been together 6 years, there’s got to be a point where you want that too, right?” You had pleaded with him, to make him show that he wanted that with you, that it wasn’t all a waste of time being together for so long.

Max had got frustrated, standing up, pacing around, not understanding how you didn’t understand that he was still at the height of his career, and settling down would only set him back. “I’m winning world championships Y/N, I can’t have kids doing that, my attention is on my career, not kids.” You had sat there, shoulders sagged, not saying anything, letting Max carry on telling you just exactly why he wouldn’t have kids with you. You just sat there, knowing that this was it, Max had chosen his career over you.

You had moved out of Max’s Monaco apartment, you had focused back on your career, you had left Max, or more like he had left you. After your conversation, you had understood where Max’s priorities were, and he had made it clear that it was not you. So, you had both left, you had cried for days, the last 6 years replaying in your mind over and over again. You remembered going to the races all around the world, each time you had gone, you had practically been treated like royalty, everyone from the engineers, the team principals, the drivers, and the fans, all wanting to meet you, wanting a photo with you, to shake your hand. But none of that had mattered, because all you wanted to do was to be with Max, and you had been, you had been the first one to run up to him when he won any race, he had kissed you with such force you had forgotten there was anyone around you, you had both forgotten you were both in the public eye with reputations to uphold, none of that had mattered.

Now, all of that was gone, everywhere you went you were asked questions about Max; what had happened? Were you now going to bring out a break-up album? Had Max cheated on you? So many ridiculous questions that you completely ignored. You had blocked it out, wanting to move on, but having an ex as big as Max Verstappen, you would never get away from his name.

Not long after you had gotten a call from one of yours and Max’s friends, Daniel, an old teammate and friend of Max who you had become close with throughout your relationship with Max. Daniel was one of your closest friends, and the split between you and Max had put tension on your friendship, Daniel knew if he had taken sides with you, the tension on the grid would be at an all-time high, and you couldn’t have that happen with Daniel, and so you had kept your distance between yourself and all of yours and Max’s mutual F1 friends.

But Daniel was the first one to call, and you had answered. “Y/N, hey, I’m sorry for not calling earlier, but everyone here misses you, you must know that. Why don’t you come to the next race, as my guest, of course, just to see everyone, you won’t have to see Max if you’re at my team paddock area, I promise, I know how much you loved the races.”

After giving it some thought and telling him that you would consider it, you received a second call asking you to perform at the race. You decided to accept and would perform some of your new songs there before going to stay with Daniel until he had to leave to go race.

And now, today was the day, anxiety was coursing through your blood as you stood at the back of the stage, waiting for your queue to go on. You had seen the news stories, the gossip that Max had gotten a new girlfriend, just months after your split. You couldn’t do that, your new boyfriend was your songs, they had helped you get your emotions out about the split, they had been your healer, instead, Max had found his healing in a new woman.

“And I don't even want you back, I just want to know

If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal

And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give

A message to the smallest man who ever lived?

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?”

Singing a song that everyone knew was about Max was dangerous, but you had made the decision to do it nevertheless. You thought that if he was going to start dating someone else so soon after you, you should express your feelings, and you should do it somewhere where most people knew him.

“Were you writing a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy?

In fifty years, will all this be declassified?

And you'll confess why you did it

And I'll say, "Good riddance"

'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden

I would've died for your sins

Instead, I just died inside

And you deserve prison, but you won't get time”

As you marched down the platform, your dancers trailed after you in the style of a marching band. You turned to face the audience and noticed the racers and their families cheering you on, and then you noticed him. You could see him well; he was staring at you. You sang the song's lyrics with all of your intensity, making eye contact with him even if you didn't want to.

With his arm over her shoulders, a woman who you could have assumed was his new girlfriend was standing next to him. She definitely was a lover of the song and sang along with it, but she didn't seem to care that you were singing about her boyfriend at the time. However, she was holding a small child in her arms who was waving and yelling your name. As you performed, your heart fell; his girlfriend had a child? Reluctant to reveal that it had knocked you, you waved to the little girl. The young girl screamed and jumped, screaming that you had waved at her. She then rushed out and grabbed Max, who smiled at her before turning to face you again while wearing a guilty expression.

Walking off the stage, you took your earpieces out, taking water from one of the workers next to you, thanking them. Daniel had been waiting for you behind the stage, with a sad look on his face, as he began walking next to you as you rushed to your backstage area to get changed into different clothes before the race started. “You never told me his new girlfriend had a kid, Dan.”

Daniel just nodded, trying to keep up with you and your security. “I knew it would upset you, Y/N, I knew how much you wanted kids with Max, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You stood still, the rest of your team standing still with you, not knowing what to do. You had turned to them, “can you just give us a minute?” The team nodded, standing away, but still needing to be close.

Daniel stood opposite you, “how can he do that Dan? Six years and for what? Now he’s a stepdad all of a sudden and he’s fine with it? We broke up because he didn’t want children, but clearly what he meant was he didn’t want children with me.”

Dan was about to reply, but your name was screamed as you turned your head to where the voice had come from. It was the same little girl you had waved to when you performed, the same little girl who had jumped into Max’s arms when you had done so, the same one who had wrapped her hands around his neck as he bounced her up and down along to the music.

“Y/N! Y/N” She had ran over to you, wearing a shirt with your album on. You knelt down to her, changing expressions from the one you had worn with Daniel, to now your stage expression, a façade you knew all too well.

Kneeling to her height, she hugged you, her reaction like many of the fans you met. “Hi, what’s your name?” You had asked her, but she still jumped up and down. Behind her, Max’s girlfriend smiled and took photos of you and the little girl.

“Penelope, but mummy and Maxie call me P.” You swallowed at the mention of Max, fighting back tears knowing the little girl now had a nickname for him. “That’s a beautiful name, Penelope, you look beautiful.” The little girl giggled, and you stood back up, making eye contact with her mother, Max’s new girlfriend.

The woman held out her hand, smiling at you. “Hi, I’m Kelly, I’m a huge fan.” You shook her hand, smiling slightly, not knowing what to say to the woman who now had everything you had wanted.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, looking at Daniel who just looked anywhere else but the scene before him, unable to cope with the awkwardness of the interaction. Kelly had turned her head, seeing Max in the distance, waving him over. “Babe, come and see, P just met Y/N.”

Max had looked over at you all, breathing heavily as he looked at your face, whilst you just looked at Daniel, who had wide eyes. “I’m really sorry, I-I’ve got to go.” You began walking away, rather quickly that almost looked like running. Your team was unsure of what to do as you tried to get away from Max.

“Y/N!” You heard you name called as you got as far away as you could, you knew the voice from anywhere and you spun around, anger now coursing through your veins. “What Max? Go and play happy little families with Kelly, since clearly you’ve had a complete change of heart and you’re now ready to be a dad.” You scoffed, but he grabbed your arm as you went to walk away again.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried to tell you, but your voice became choked up. “Right, it isn’t the fact that just months after ending our six-year relationship due to YOU not wanting children with you, you find someone else. And you didn’t just find someone else, you found someone else where you have to step up and become a father figure.” You told him, “I wish you all the best with your new family Max, I really do.”

Max took off the baseball cap off his head that he was wearing, pushing a hand through his hair. “I never wanted this, Y/N, I’m sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I would never of said what I said to you, I would take everything back, just to be with you again, you were my everything and you still are.”

You couldn’t breathe, he had practically still professed his love for you still, whilst still being with Kelly. “You lost that chance, Max. I wanted you, all of you, all the good, all the bad. But you didn’t want me, and you lost me.”

“I want you back. No matter what you think I have with Kelly, I don’t, I will never have with anyone what I had with you. I have no excuse that it took all of this to make me realise, but I’m still human, and human make mistakes, and I made the mistake of loosing you, because of my selfishness.” Max practically pleaded with you, but you just shook your head.

“We almost had it all.”

“And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life”

#formula one imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #taylor swift #formula 1 #formula one x reader #angst #mv1 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen smut #f1 x reader #the smallest man who ever lived

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader #33 Ghost helps fix up your house or makes repairs - for @glitterypirateduck's Ghost writing challenge

His phone rings again on the following Tuesday morning.

It's been a day and a half, since he's seen you and Orion last. Since he made you promise to call, no matter what, if you needed something. Or if you needed a break, or some company.

Anything. Anything, and he'd be there.

You had tried to push him off a bit, tried to assert your independence, which he appreciates, he values. He likes to know you can take care of yourself and the baby when he's not here. But when he is-

"We're really fine, you know. You don't have to be... available for us, whenever. I mean, like if you have other things. Or people, you don't have to be here all the time. I've been doin' it on my own, and I'm fine. We're fine. I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

His fork clatters to the plate, and your eyes go round as he rises from the chair and steps toward you, firm hand cupping your arm. "I'm here because I wan' to be."

"O-okay, I just don't want you to be here because you think you have to... because you're all the sudden saddled with a kid."

"I'm not here because I feel like 've been saddled with a kid. I'm here because I want to be, because I wanted you the night we made him, and I still do. I want you both." Your mouth drops wide before snapping shut abruptly, warmth rising in your cheeks. You're so cute like this, flustered and nervous, and it reminds him of the night he met you, a sweet little kitten, all alone at the bar. "And you've done more than just a fine job, sweet girl, takin' care of yourself and our baby for me, but when 'm here, it's my job."

So, his phone rings, and it doesn't matter that he's in the middle of spotting Soap at the squat rack.

He drops everything.

"Hi." You're a little out of breath when you open the door, eyes wide and wild, chewing on your lip. Orion is asleep in your arms, blissfully unaware, head lolling on your shoulder, clad only in a diaper.

His head buzzes, still trying to reconcile the truth of this entire thing, the fact that this is his, you and his baby. His.

"What's wrong?" He's massive in your door frame, and ushers you back inside, clicking the lock into place behind him. "What's goin' on?"

"It's... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. I just... I don't know how to fix it and you said I could... call, right? So-"

"Hey." His thumb gently presses into the inside of your elbow, and then he squeezes slightly. "It's okay. I want you to call me. What is it?"

"It's the laundry." You blurt, and then freeze, eyes flicking down to see if Ry has woken up. "I broke the washer, and today is the day I do the baby's clothes, but I can't get it to work and... it hates me." He chuckles.

"It doesn't hate you, sweetheart. Let's take a look." This, he can do. Things with his hands, mechanical things, physical puzzles, easy. It's not the first time he'll have fixed an appliance, and it won't be the last.

He takes the machine apart as quickly as possible, pieces laid out exactly where he needs them, washers and screws and everything all accounted for. It's the belt, he discovers rapidly, an easily fixed problem with a new part.

"I'll have to run down the street quick," he tells you, drawing up to his full height and motioning towards the entryway, "but it's a quick fix." You nod, stepping out of the way, small smile on your lips. He promises he'll be right back, that he'll have it done in no time, and you pad along to the door, standing back as he pulls it wide.

"Simon..." you whisper, and he turns, "thank you."

"Of course."

True to his word, he's back before the hour. The low murmur of the TV echoes from the living room, and he gravitates there before returning to his task, driven to lay eyes on both of you, to make sure you're here, you're okay-

and the sight of it stops him in his tracks.

You're asleep on the couch, shirt pulled up and bra unhooked from it's strap. Orion is cradled against your chest, his tiny fingers curled in the flesh of your breast, mouth lax around your nipple. There's a dribble of milk sliding down his cheek, and the sight of it all makes Simon dizzy. He knew you nursed him, but seeing it for the first time fills him with something he's not sure how to reconcile, adding onto the heap of adoration and possession pounding in his heart. It's a different kind of puzzle, the same kind of barbaric instinct and need roaring in his blood, the one that tells him to tuck you away and never let you go.

He stares for a second longer, scratching this moment into his memory as much as he can before he realizes how tired you are. You do a good job of hiding it, smiling and buzzing about, but in the early afternoon light, he can see the exhaustion so clearly, and kicks himself for not noticing sooner.

When Ry starts to fuss, your brow furrows in your sleep, and Simon can't stop himself. "Shh, shhh." He soothes, pulling him free as gently as he can. You twitch, hands searching, and then your head snaps up in a panic, breaths stuttered. "It's okay. I got him, you just closed your eyes, is all. It's alright."

"Sorry." You croak, sitting up and fumbling with your top. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay, mama." He's on his knees in front of the couch, in front of you, and you stare down at him, mystified. "What does he usually do after he eats?"

"Uh... burp? And then he goes down to sleep." You yawn. "A change, if he needs it."

"Alright, 've got it, you go rest. After I put him down, I'll finish the washer."

"Oh, no... I can-"

"I've got him. Nothin' I can't handle." He shifts Orion, supporting his head as he props him up over his shoulder, rubbing his back slowly. He wants to do this, wants you to let him do this, wants you to trust him.

He needs it.

You hesitate. "Are you sure?"

"If I need anythin', I'll wake you." There's a burp cloth on the coffee table, and he places it under Ry's chin. "Huh, lad? If we need mama, we'll get her, right?" You soften, posture relaxing a bit, and then you nod.

"Alright, then."

#peaches writes #through me anthology #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghostchallenge #once upon a time someone asked me to write lactation kink and I couldn't do it because I wasn't feeling it for that particular story BUT #it will certainly be in this

[luveline]

Mothers day lil fic with eddie x reader from june baby? 👉🏻👈🏻

mom!reader, 1.5k “Big stretch!”

You hold your arms above your head, stretching as tall as you can go. Your t-shirt rises and exposes the soft stretch of your tummy, stretch marks decorating your skin and lightened in the sun as you lean to your left side.

“Okay, now we count. One, two…”

“Three,” Junie says. “Five, six, seven.”

“You forgot four, babe. Let’s try again, okay?” You stretch to your right side. “One, two, three…”

“Five, six, four–”

You giggle. Junie, who wasn’t doing a very good job at copying your yoga poses to begin with, hears you laughing and drops her short arms to her sides. “Tummy!” she says, jumping forward to push her hand into your stomach.

“I’m telling Eddie you did that. So nasty.” You drop your arms.

“Tummy,” she says again, poking at your belly button.

You catch her hands in yours and level her with a feigned glare. “What are you trying to say about my tummy?”

She beams. It’s lovely to have a little baby that looks like you. Her joy is yours, her smile made up of your lips and teeth. She’s a mirror, and you could never not think she was gorgeous —it makes you gorgeous too.

“Guess we’re done stretching?” you ask.

She lifts her hands to your sides, a gesture to be grabbed. You lean down to collect her and drag her up for a hug, holding her low at the back to encourage face to face time. “What, you’re not talking to me?” you ask warmly.

She touches your neck.

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure you get it.

Outside, tires roll across grass and road alike. You listen for the whine of Eddie’s van as it parks, grinning all over again when it comes. He’s not supposed to see you today, it’s Sunday, he has too much stuff to do.

If he’s outside, it means he swapped his shifts again or called out, which means he’s gonna give you one of his speeches about being sickly sweet in love with you. You can pretend you don’t like them as much as you want, but there’s no better feeling than being loved like you’re something special.

You open the door before he can, and he needs it, anyhow. To your confusion, he’s carrying a cellophane wrapped bouquet made up of a hundred different colours and a white box in the other, arms full and naked, no jacket to hide from the early summer sun. Your eyes widen as he gets to the steps. He looks like he made an effort to see you (and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t always, you love him as he is, but you can’t help asking yourself why).

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eddie smiles. “What do you mean?”

“What’s the stuff for?” There’s a bag hanging from his elbow.

“This stuff?” he asks, cresting the last step.

“Hi,” Junie says.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi.” She reaches for the flowers. “Pretty.”

“You think so? I got them for your mommy but I’m sure she’ll share them with you.”

You’re nonplussed as he moves in to kiss your cheek and skirt around you. “Come on. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, the cellophane crunching against his chest as he squeezes past you into your home.

“Eddie, what is that stuff?”

“You don’t know what day it is today?”

You think about it for a second at least. “No?”

It’s not your birthday, not Junie’s. You and Eddie can’t have made it to your first anniversary already, but perhaps six months? You try to do the maths in your head. Eddie puts the white box on your kitchen table, the bag on Junie’s high chair, and the flowers by the sink.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, some sympathy in play.

“Eddie, we did stretches!” Junie says from your arms.

You offer her to him. He wraps her up and makes it look easy, baby on his hip. Quick kiss pressed to her cheek. “Yeah? Mom’s got you doing yoga again?”

You’re drawn to the box like a magnet.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It’s for you, babe,” he says easily, smiling as Junie tucks a curl behind his ear. “It’s all for you. You can open it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Open it up.”

You take the box’s lid off, lips parting in surprise. Happy Mother’s Day has been written in white writing against a baby pink cake. It’s simple, without frills, but it’s sweet and it looks soft to the touch.

“Is it today?” you ask.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Eddie shifts Junie forward to stop her from tangling his hair. “That’s a lie, I totally can. Quick, come here.”

You slot into his side, expecting the kiss, but not the second one against the apple of your cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make sure my mom knew I was thinking about her first.” He taps your noses together before pulling away. “You’re the best mom ever, so. Me and June got you some presents. No biggie.”

“Junie got me this?”

“Who do you think wrote on the cake?”

Eddie pretends to eat Junie’s hand, to her delight. You feel the cardboard of your box between your fingers, no attempt made to hide the achingly huge smile that’s taking shape. “And the bags for me too?” you ask.

Eddie can hear it in your voice. “The bag’s for you too, of course. You're the mother.” He snarfs against Junie’s wrist. “Um-num-num.”

You drag the bag from Junie’s blue and orange high chair across the table to peek inside. It’s a flat, paper bag from a clothing store, so the contents surprise you for being much more than clothes. Your smile gets worse with each item unveiled from its tissue paper depths: a humble box of fancy chocolates, a bag of your favourite chips, a small black box and a pair of pyjamas wrapped together with a ribbon.

You hesitate with the box, hand atop it, head tilting toward your shoulder. Eddie doesn’t notice your hesitation, or at least he’s pretending not to, pretending to nibble Junie’s sleeve where she’s laughing it up in his arms.

“What’s in the box?”

He looks up quickly. Not pretending. “Oh, that’s– If you don’t like it, I can take it back. It’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re proposing.” The box is shaped for a bracelet or necklace rather than a ring.

He nods severely. “Will you do me the honour?”

You laugh softly and line your thumb to the box’s seam. It opens on a tense hinge, clicking into place.

It’s a bracelet made up of silver beads. There’s a small flat-circle charm between the beads, that, upon closer inspection, harbours two hearts, one bigger than the other.

“It’s nothing fancy, okay? So if it breaks you won’t feel bad. It’s real silver though, you don’t have to take it off much if you don’t want to. I don’t know. I think it’s, like, a reminder of her when you’re not together.” Junie whines, encouraging Eddie to press another peck to her cheek as he hugs her tighter, and takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t like it, it’s really fine.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist. It goes without saying you’ve never had much jewellery.

Taking his face into your hands is easy. Holding him tenderly is second nature. “Thank you,” you say, eye to eye, willing it to sink in deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. And Junie loves you more than anybody. You deserve to know that.”

“I do,” you say, glad when he puckers up for a kiss. You kiss his pouting lips misaligned to nobody’s worry, adding another for thankfulness, and a third just because. He’s smirking before you’ve so much as pulled away.

“And thank you!” you add saccharinely, stroking Junie’s cheek, though the idea that she had anything to do with your gifts is funny. “I wouldn’t get to be a mommy if it wasn’t for you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Junie says distractedly, more interested by the stud earring in Eddie’s lobe.

He gives you both a soft, soft look, startlingly yards away from his previous smirking. “You’re the best girls in the world.”

“You're the best boyfriend.” You curve an arm around him to steal him and press your face into his arm. “I love you,” you say, smushed. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I really love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his nose touching your head as he cranes his head down to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I love you too. You deserve it, alright?”

Junie pats your head. “Love love love you. Kiss?”

She almost blinds you trying to kiss you in the eye as you turn your face toward her, but it’s nice.

#june baby universe #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[moonstruckme]

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow. 

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration. 

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time. 

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.” 

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.” 

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.” 

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings. 

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again. 

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking. 

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion. 

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him. 

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?” 

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.” 

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him. 

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively. 

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs. 

You hum. “Why?” 

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?” 

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look. 

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks. 

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.” 

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.” 

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?” 

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later. 

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself. 

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.” 

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it. 

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.” 

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.” 

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?” 

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

[i2sunric]

MON AMOUR (p.sh)

pairing: husband!sunghoon x reader (f)

summary: after a tiring day spent following your twin children and doing the chores, what could be better than letting your husband take care of you?

warnings: fluff & smut. unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they have a daughter and a son, creampie, p in v, dirty talk, meandom!hoon, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, making out, kissing, cuddling. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.1k

published: 20th May 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts (one shot) @slut4hee @love13tter @deobitifull @xiaoderrrr @cha0thicpisces @minjaexvz @crimnalseung @skylaly @ensaz008

a/n: based on this ask from anon. hope you don’t mind i changed it a little bit <3 i just love imagining how enha would call their kids (like, in heeseung’s fic, jia 😭😭)

“I want the pink toothbrush!” Your daughter shouted with her high pitched voice, pointing at the toothbrush of the respective colour.

“Alright.” You smiled and handed it to her, “Here you go, Haneul.” 

“And you?” You looked at Haneul’s twin brother, smiling ever so sweetly “I want green.” Yohan answered, his chubby finger pointing at the toothbrush. 

You removed it from the wrapping and handed it to him “Now, brush your teeth, I want them all clean, alright?” 

Both of them nodded and you started filling in the laundry, programming it to function for that night. Spring coming with its perfect weather for the twins to play outside, it also meant your laundry had to work overtime with the amount of mud they get on their clothes.

Turning around, you noticed them arguing over the toothpaste. You shook your head and took it out of Haneul’s hand before she could make a mess and put a little bit on it on both of their toothbrushes. 

Patrolling so that they wouldn’t argue over something silly again, you helped them in their pyjamas and tugged their covers.

With one kiss on each of their foreheads, you whispered “Good night.” And exited their room, hoping none of them woke up for the whole night.

You rested your back against the door, rubbing your temples with a soft sigh. You loved the twins, you had never wished for something as wonderful as them— But it was draining to follow them the whole day and also do all the chores. 

You tried your best not to let it show, Sunghoon surely had it worse, waking up at dawn and coming back later than sunset. It must be so exhausting you didn’t have the heart to complain about your own tiredness.

You walked to the bedroom, opening the door just to widen your eyes when you saw Sunghoon’s figure, removing his blazer meaning he had just come home. 

You smiled “Hey.” You said, closing the door behind your back. 

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Hey pretty,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes trailing along the length of your body.

He threw his jacket on the edge of the chair sitting over by his desk, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

“You’re back.” You stated, fighting the urge not to add a ‘finally’ and walked towards him, taking the jacket to fold it better.

He watched as your fingers nimbly folded the jacket, a soft smile appearing on his tired face. 

Sunghoon felt the stress of the day slowly disappear from him when he looked at you. He reached out and took the jacket from your hand, setting it down before pulling you close to him.

“I couldn't stay away from you three any longer.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head “They kept asking about you.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips and he tightened his arms around your waist in return, “Did they really?” It was rhetorical since he already knew the answer. 

He hadn’t been home early enough to see them for days due to his work and he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the fact. Sunghoon knew that he needed to spend more time at home, with you and his little daughter and son.

You hummed, resting your head on his chest with a small sigh. You had missed the way your bodies mended together, just so perfect for each other.

His warm embrace always made your day better, no batter what hardship you had encountered— He just knew what made you happy.

Noticing that you weren’t saying much as usual, where you would tell him all the things that happened through the day, Sunghoon gently cupped the back of your head, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

“You ok, love?” He asked softly, tilting your head up so he could look at you, his eyes scanning your face to search for any sign of discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head “I’m just tired.” You gave him a small smile, not wanting to worry him much. 

He nodded, understanding that you were going through a lot as well, “Don’t apologise,” Sunghoon mumbled, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I think we could both benefit from being in bed right now,” He teased lightly, a smirk appearing on his lips “You worked so hard, even ironed all my blazers.”

“Yeah but you take a shower first.” You pointed a threatening finger in his chest “I just changed the sheets.” 

Sunghoon chuckled lowly, “Then come join me,” He winked, gently squeezing your hip as he stepped back towards the bathroom, not letting you take a moment to respond that he was dragging you with him. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, looking back anxiously, despite the bathroom being private, they still might hear you “We need to be quiet.” 

Sunghoon looked over at you with a cocky smile, unbuttoning his shirt slowly “You know I’ll try my hardest.”

You narrowed your eyes “You never do.” 

He smirked back at you as he dropped his shirt to the floor, “You love it though,” He quipped teasingly, watching you as you stood there, watching him unabashedly.

You crossed your arms “The twins might hear us, I’m not sure they’re asleep yet.” 

“I’m sure they are.” He commented, stepping closer to you and pulling you flush to him once again.

“Besides, it’s you who needs to keep quiet, baby.” He mumbled softly as he leaned down to press a trail of kisses along the side of your neck.

You let out a contented sigh, tilting your head back to give him more access.

His hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing, his fingers gliding over the bare skin of your stomach.

Sunghoon pushed you against the counter, his teeth nibbling your collarbone, leaving small, red marks.

His hands squeezing your hips gently to keep you in place.

He was desperate to have you close again after being so busy for days and his body was missing you.

You let your hands wander all over his bare chest, feeling his shaped muscles. The feeling of your hands all over him made him eager and desperate to touch you as well. 

He quickly grabbed the hem of your shirt, bringing it over your head before tossing it to the side. 

Sunghoon let out a small groan when he noticed you weren’t wearing any bra. His hands found your breasts right away, groping them.

You attached your lips to him and as the kiss deepened, his hands started trailing down to your hips once again, his fingers digging into the flesh. 

Sunghoon pulled you even closer, moaning lowly into the kiss as he grinded against you, his desire for friction evident against your body.

You let out a shaky breath and trailed your hand down to palm his clothed bulge. 

His breath hitched and his forehead rested against yours, looking into your eyes as you palmed him. 

His lust-filled gaze locked with your own and his hand moved to grab yours, gently pulling it away.

Sunghoon had a smirk on his lips as he brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. “Not yet, love.”

You looked at him puzzled “Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you tonight,” Sunghoon spoke gently, his eyes burning into yours. 

One of his hands lifted to move strands of your hair and place it behind your ear. “Just because I haven't been home much doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of my skills. Just relax.” He reassured you, wiggling his thick brows.

“Yeah?” You chuckled “How about you show me?”

Sunghoon’s lips stretched up into a mischievous smirk, pulling the elastic from your hair and letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

He pushed his knee up between your legs, his smirk widening at the small gasp he managed to pry from your lips ”That's exactly what I plan on doing,” He replied.

His knee rubbed up against your heat, applying light pressure every now and then just to tease you. He could feel how hot and desperate you were becoming.

When you felt something sharp on your shoulder, you gasped “Sunghoon… No marks.”

He grinned against your skin, “But you love it when I mark you,” He purred into your ear. 

You lightly hit his shoulder “Still, it’s difficult to hide them.”

Sunghoonleaned closer so his lips hovered over yours, the two of you sharing the same breath and exhales.

”I don't want you to hide them, love,” His eyes burning with desire as he looked down at your body. “I want you to wear my marks with pride.”

You nagged “How will I explain to the twins where these marks come from?”

A low chuckle left his lips as he let his head drop down to your shoulder, his nose rubbing against your skin. 

“They’re too young to know,” He mumbled against your neck, “And these are for my eyes only anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his shameless he was “You’re incredible.”

Sunghoon’s other hand moved to hold your chin gently so you’d look at him, his dark eyes boring into yours.

His leg moved up again, pressing harder and rubbing up against the sensitive spot he knew you’d moan at. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, unable to grind your hips on his thigh with the way he was holding you.

 “Do you know how much I missed this?” He breathed out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“As much as I did.” You replied and made your lips crash back together, your tongues dancing the ballad of love.

“Please..” You pleaded, feeling your body burn in desire “Sunghoon, please.” 

“Please what, pretty?” Sunghoon asked mockingly, knowing exactly what it was that you wanted, but not giving it to you just yet.

“Stop teasing.” You said desperately “Stop teasing you say?” He grinned, “And just give you what you want?” He murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Not tonight, baby. Tonight I want you to take what you’re given and you’ll be grateful for everything I do to you.”

Your body shuddered at his words, just the thought of finally being able to be his all over again made slick pool your panties. You nodded obediently, his husky tone just fuelling your desire.

 “Good girl,” Sunghoon mumbled softly, his hand reaching out to gently pull you forward.

“C'mon, you deserve to unwind after dealing with our babies all by yourself,” He reassured with a warm smile, leading you towards the bedroom.

You walked beside him and laid down on the bed, all bare except for the shorts you were still wearing. You looked up at him with utter lust, your nipples hardening at the sight of his huge bulge poking through his working pants. 

Sunghoon noticed it and massaged your breasts, licking his bottom lip.

Your breath was heavy, your eyes piercing through his body and your pussy aching for his cock.

“I need you.” You whispered “Yeah? Need me that bad?” You nodded, rubbing your thighs together.

Such a sight made his cock twitch in his pants, the fabric becoming more and more tight “Can’t wait anymore, mh?” He said and reached for your pants.

“Lift your hips for me.” He said and you complied, helping him remove them. 

Sunghoon held his body above you, his hands on either side of your head to prevent himself from crushing you. 

His tongue quickly slipped into your mouth once again as he relished in the taste he’d missed so badly.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He kissed your lips, unzipping his pants “I’m going to fuck you so good, put another baby in you.”

He groaned at the memory of your swollen belly, carrying not one but two of his children. The idea of having a third one went straight to his cock.

“Knock me up.” You said, blissful euphoria clouding your senses.

Sunghoon pulled down his boxers and pants, his cock sprung free, angry and pulsating. 

Your hand went down to pump it, wanting to provide him some kind of relief.

He let out a moan, bucking his hips to fuck your fist “Do you want me to prep you?” He asked. 

“No, just fuck me.” You said, impatiently, “Make me yours.”

You didn’t need to say more, Sunghoon pulled your hand away to align himself to your entrance after slipping your panties to the side and then pushed his thick tip inside of you. 

“So wet already.” You moaned out at the stretch, so sweet and painful at the same time until he pushed all of him inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix.

“You feel so good, baby,” He mumbled quietly, his body desperate for more of the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips as he slowly began to roll his own against your body, setting a slow rhythm for both of you.

You rolled your eyes back, mouth agape as you felt him pull out just to push himself right back into you.

“S-shit baby.” He groaned as he picked up pace “Squeezing my cock so tight.” 

You grasped his forearms, his muscles under your palms “Fuck— Yes.” You moaned, a little too loudly.

“Shh,” He shushed by crashing his lips on your, swallowing your moans “You don’t want Haneul and Yohan to hear you, do you?” 

You shook your head, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Your own hand went down to rub small circles on your clit, bringing yourself even more pleasure.

Sunghoon craved you, your body, your mind, your whole being. He wrapped his hand around your throat and pushed himself deeper, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. 

“My wife.” He grunted “My gorgeous wife.” 

You hummed, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts “I missed you so much.” You breathed out. 

Sunghoon nodded in understanding, claiming your lips once again “I missed you too, baby.” 

Sunghoon squeezed your nipples, making you moan “I’ll take tomorrow off, fuck the company, just want be with my family.” He snapped, his hips moving more harshly against yours.

You didn’t have the mind to reply to his rumbling, his pace along with the feeling of him was enough to make the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath “How come you’re still so tight?” He scoffed mockingly “Pushed out two babies and you feel tighter than before— Shit!” Sunghoon bit down his bottom lip to muffle his moans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him more down to you “Hoon, I’m gonna cum.” You warned.

“I know, pretty,” Sunghoon panted heavily between moans, his pace even faster as he chased his own end. “Cum for me, yeah?” He mumbled, “Wanna feel you come undone for me.”

You tried to hold it back, wanting the moment and the pleasure your husband brought you to last forever— But it had been a while since you two shared an intimate moment and your body wasn’t used to it as much anymore. 

With one particular deep thrust, you came with a muffled moan, your body squirming and back arched. 

Watching your orgasm sent him over the edge and he came soon after, “Fuck, Fuck.” Groaning heavily as he felt your walls clenching around him. 

He emptied his load inside you, coating your insides with his cum “Take my cum, angel.” Sunghoon twitched inside you “Take it all, good girl.”

As you both tried to come down from your high, he laid on top of you, not caring that he was probably crashing your body. You didn’t care as well when all you wanted was for him to stay close.

One of your hands went to brush his bangs out of his sweaty forehead and you pressed a small kiss on his thick brow. 

Sunghoon chuckled, the aftercare sessions always full of giggle and unspoken affection..

“Will you seriously take tomorrow off?” You asked quietly after a while, unsure whether he was being serious or if he was just too in the moment. 

He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb “I’m the CEO, I decide what I want.” He said proudly. 

You smiled widely, a warm sensation spreading inside your chest “Really?” 

“Really.” He promised, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip “We’ll make a big surprise to the twins and after we take them to kindergarten….” He bucked his hips, his cock still inside your warm pussy, none of you wanting to disconnect your bodies.

He leaned down to whisper inside your ear “I’m going to have you all for myself, fuck you full of my cum until you can’t no more.” 

You kissed him, biting his bottom lip harshly “I’m down.” Sunghoon moaned, pulling you into another make out session, your bodies moving at a slow rhythm.

After cleaning up, you laid down side by side, his big body engulfing yours, warm arms protectively around your waist.

You missed all of it, the smell of his cologne, the warm feeling of the sheets around both your bodies, his soothing presence.

Sunghoon traced small patterns on your back “Stop drawing dicks.” You nagged, chuckling.

He smiled and pressed a featherlight kiss on your head “I’m so lucky to have you.” He took your hand in his, both your rings tingling “And I never tell you enough how grateful I am for our babies.”

You snuggled closer to his chest “I’m so lucky to have you too— I wouldn’t have made it alone.”

“I love you so much.” Sunghoon whispered, his eyes slowly closing, exhaustion overtaking him “I love you more.” You murmured back.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen fics #enhypen au #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon hard hours #park sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines

[wineauntie]

Requesting a Hughes sister fic, where the Hughes Brothers are sad or in disbelief that their baby sister is growing up. All of a sudden when hockey season is over…their sister has blossomed into a beautiful young woman and that even their friends catches on. For example Trevor told their sister “you’ve grown…” and the sister finishes “boobs” since he’s looking at them lol. The sister dresses more girly and parties now. And the Hughes bros hate thats she’s growing up to fast.

NEVER GROW UP — hughes brothers x sister!reader

“Okay, I’m heading out.”

Several heads swivelled to face you, all of them ranging in emotions. You were headed out to a small party at your friends house, leaving your brothers and a few of their friends free reign of the lake house. You had just thrown on a skirt and low cut top, thinking nothing of it as you placed your phone into your bag.

The living room had grown unusually quiet so you looked up to see your brothers and their friends staring at you. Jack was glaring, whilst Luke had huffed and hung his head in his hands.

“What?” You asked, your eyes flitting from your brothers to their shocked and staring friends. You gaze landed on Trevor, who you’d known for years and would play into his teasing flirting to annoy your brothers.

“Damn little Hughes,” his eyes dropped down your body causing you to scoff and roll your eyes. “You’ve grown…”

“Oh the boobs?” You offered nonchalantly, glancing down at your chest that exposed more skin than usual.

“Don’t say boobs!” Luke groaned from his hunched position. Jack seemed to snap back into reality as he whacked Trevor across the head and jumped to his feet.

“Go change,” Jack spoke quickly, before he pointed the fingers at his friends. “and you guys stop staring, that’s my little sister!”

“I’m not changing,” you shrugged, folding your arms in defiance. “This is how I like to dress.”

“No it isn’t!” He insisted, standing in front of you to block you from view.

“You only see me like twice a year until summer,” you retorted, “this is how I dress.” Your words were light and teasing, yet Jack visibly flinched, am unfamiliar look crossing his face as his softened. Your grin faltered as he looked away, his eyes locking with Quinn as he entered the room.

Quinn, who to you, was usually calm and collected, walked in with a furrowed brow, as his gaze flicked between you and Jack, quickly assessing the stirring tension in the room. He sighed, a familiar sound that caused you to wince, having heard that noise every time your eldest brother was tired of solving his younger sibling’s issues.

"What's going on here?" Quinn asked, his voice low.

"She's going out dressed like that," Jack blurted out, frustration and protectiveness mingling in his tone as his arm outstretched to point to your outfit.

Quinn's eyes met yours, and you could see the concern lurking behind his calm facade. "Where are you going?" he asked gently, his warm eyes radiating the care you knew he held for you.

"Come on, Quinn," you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "It's just a party, and it's not like I'm going to do anything crazy."

Trevor, sensing the shift in the room, decided to pipe in again, "Hey, if she wants to dress up, let her. She's an adult." He drawled, winking at you from his seat.

One point to Zegras, you mentally tallied, shooting the boy a look of gratitude.

"Stay out of this, Zegras." Both Quinn and Jack chided, not taking their eyes off of you as you shifted uncomfortably under the growing tension.

Quinn put a hand on Jack's shoulder, steadying him. "Look, we trust you, but you know we worry.” He sighed, looking around at the rest of the occupants in the room as they avoided his gaze. “Just... be careful, okay?"

You nodded rapidly, appreciating Quinn's more calm approach.

"I will. I promise." You nodded, “I always am, see!” You twirled your keys in your fingers with the self defence keychains that your brothers had gifted you in your stocking one Christmas.

Jack sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine. But if any guy tries anything—" he started, only for you to cut him off.

"Jack, I'll be fine," you reassured him, stepping closer to give him a quick hug. "Now, can I go? My friends are waiting."

Jack reluctantly stepped aside, though his eyes still held a trace of worry. "Text us if you need anything." He ensured.

As you headed towards the door, you noticed Luke still sitting with his head in his hands, peeking through his fingers at you. His usual carefree demeanor he held for you was replaced with an expression that tugged at your heartstrings.

"You look... really grown up," he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. The boy was less than two years your senior but the two of you were thick as thieves growing up. He would always associate you with the wild-haired kid who caused chaos with him around the neighbourhood.

You paused, turning back to face them. "Guys, it's just one night. I'll be back before you know it." You huffed, “I’m not going off to war!”

Quinn stepped closer, his eyes softening with a mix of pride and sadness. "It's not just about tonight. You're growing up so fast.” He wistfully spoke, “Sometimes it's hard for us to keep up. Especially now that we don’t see you as often as we want to.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, seeing the genuine emotion swimming in their eyes. Going from a rowdy house of four children to just one was a change that shook you to your core. You missed your brothers daily presence in your life and despite calling and texting them on a daily basis, the distance stumped you.

"I know. But I'll always be your little sister, no matter what." You reassured them, your eyes skating from one to the other as Luke joined his brother’s in front of you.

"Yeah, well, it's tough watching you grow up." Jack managed a weak smile, though his eyes glistened.

“You going to cry, Jacky?” You teased halfheartedly as you walked back and pulled all three of your brothers into a hug, feeling the squeeze of their tight embrace. "I'll be careful. I promise."

They reluctantly let you go, their arms slowly falling to their sides as you stepped back. The weight of their concern and love hung in the air, making your departure feel heavier than you anticipated.

As you reached the door, you turned back one last time, seeing their somber faces lined up in a row, all of their expressions a mix of worry, pride, and a certain tinge of sadness that caused you to falter.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Just a few hours, okay?"

They nodded in unison, but their silence spoke volumes as you gave them a final wave and stepped out into the evening air. You found yourself taking a deep breath and pushing away the lump in your throat.

Throughout the night, you repeatedly checked your phone, half-expecting a message from one of them. When you finally did receive a text, it was a simple "Have fun. Be safe." from Quinn, followed by a string of thumbs up from Luke and from Jack.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for them. You knew they missed you, just as much as you missed them. And while growing up and moving on was an inevitable feat, you knew that the care your brothers possessed for you was something that time or distance couldn’t sway.

You night of fun slowly drew to a close and you headed back to the lake house. You quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside, the house dark and silent. You tiptoed to your room, careful not to wake anyone but, as you passed the living room, you saw a soft light and found all three of your brothers sprawled on the couches, fast asleep, waiting for your return.

Grabbing a few blankets from the back of the couches, you draped them over their sleeping figures before retreating to your room with a soft smile.

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #new jersey devils #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x sister!reader #quinn hughes x sister!reader #hughes brothers #hughes sister #hughes!sister #hughes!reader #hughes brothers x you #hughes brothers fluff #hughes brothers x y/n #hughes brothers fanfiction #hughes brothers x sister!reader #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x sister!reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n

[fernandopiastri28]

Hello! I loved your last oscar fic so maybe you could do one when oscar repays her and is focused only on her pleasure?

hands in your hair ~ oscar piastri

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?”

wc: 2,437 || warnings: pure smut- oral (f), mentions of sex, hair kink??

(self indulgent- just me being obsessed with oscar's longer hair)

Her finger’s card through the soft locks of his brunette hair, relishing in just how long his hair’s gotten. It looks better than it has throughout their whole relationship, and she’s seen her fair share of his interesting haircuts. For a moment, her hands pull away and her touches stop. He wiggles around, his head lolling around in her lap. “Why’d you stop?” His voice comes out as a grumble, a slight pout to his lips.

“Sorry, Oz,” Y/N giggles, her thumbs moving to brush over his cheeks before moving back into his hair. His eyes are shut, trying to get in a last little bit of sleep before he has to get in the car for free practice 3. Oscar Piastri napping minutes before he has to be driving around a track he’s never driven before in his career- fork found in kitchen. He would sleep forever if he could, and likely would if it weren’t for Y/N, Andrea, and Lando all having to try to wake him up.

A knock sounds on the door a few minutes later, proving her point further. “Osc?” Lando’s voice travels underneath the door of Oscar’s room in the motorhome. When he doesn’t get a response, he calls out again. “Y/N, stop sucking his cock, we need to get in the cars soon” She cringes out, turning dark red that that’s what’s presumed they do whenever they’re alone.

It kinda is, but not always. “He’s sleeping, not getting head,” She retorts, enjoying her last few minutes before he gets whisked away.

“Sleeping, sex, quickies- who cares, please just wake him up,” Lando keeps knocking on the door and she frowns slightly, sad that her time with her boyfriend has to be cut short for him to race.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” She weasels her way out from under him, slipping down enough for her feet to hit the floor. “Oscar, time to wake up,” She brushes her hair off his forehead, kissing at the revealed skin. “Cmon, neither of us want you to get in trouble with Zak because you’ve just decided you don’t want to race today,” 

He groans, rolling himself over to bury his face into a cushion. “Fine,” His arms click as he pushes himself up, his fireproof top having hitched itself up to show off the majority of his toned abdomen. “Only because I don’t want to end up in a Danny Ric situation,” She sucks in a deep breath at that, her mouth moving into a grimace. “Sorry, too soon,” 

Oscar needs to remember that even though she’s his girlfriend, she’s a Ricciardo fan firstly, a true aussie supporting her country. “Good luck, loverboy” She pulls him in for a final kiss just as he’s working on getting his race suit zipped up, forgetting he only has one of his arms in a sleeve.

His hand squeezes at her waist, pushing it slightly into the edge of the bench they were previously perched upon, “Back here at the end of practice?” His adorable bunny teeth scrape along her bottom lip, his lips clasping around it.

“You’ve got it,” She sends him off with a swift smack to the butt, getting a howl out of him and a permanently red face of embarrassment when he sees that Lando saw the whole thing. 

He’s never going to hear the end of it.

~~~

Oscar goes crazy on the radio as free practice 3 ends, securing him a first place ‘position’ after getting second in the prior session. For a track that had been cancelled last year, causing him to miss out on racing it before today, he’s doing exceptional. He hurries back to his driver room, excited to get back to spending time with Y/N before qualifying. 

“Oz!” She’s already back on the bench, having made her way out of the paddock once the session had ended to avoid crowds of interviewers. “You were so good, baby!” She reaches her arms out, wrapping her legs around his waist once he’s fully in the hug.

His head buries into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling at her nose, “Did it for you,” He murmurs, his lips aimlessly moving against the collar of her shirt, unintentionally wetting it. “Can we cuddle like before? Your hands in my hair?” The question is slightly muffled by the angle he’s at, but she gets it enough. He’s not really one to go all out with celebrating, and FP3 isn’t something huge to party about anyways. 

She leans back, her head hitting against the wall and lets her legs dangle over the edge so her thighs squish up, just like how Oscar likes. He palms at them, before just dropping his head down onto them, using them as cushions. His cheeks get all smushed up, just like they do under his helmet. Without much time after that, her hands move to his hair, tugging on it ever so slightly, the floppy strands long enough to nearly cover her fingers completely as they disappear under all the brown hair there. He turns over slightly, enough to be looking up at her and have his head up closer to her face. 

After eye fucking eachother for what seems like a decade, his lips press into hers. The kiss is agonisingly slow, strings of spit connecting them and teeth tugging on each other's lips. Their faces seem to merge into one the longer it lasts, each breath being inhaled in tandem. The nose of smacking lips and wet suckling fills the small room, hands going on hips and waists as desperate attempts to hold back whatever incoming lustre they’re both heading towards until they get home tonight. 

They just have to wait til after quali, get back to the hotel, then they can fuck it out. 

Y/N’s the one who ends up pulling away, knowing she’s not strong enough to hold back if they’re gonna continue making out. Oscar’s an exceptional kisser, and sometimes, just that is enough for her to get off on. So they go back to Oscar’s head in her lap, sitting in silence as she strokes his head.

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite. 

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?” That’s just about the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. It’s not completely out of character for him, he’s actually pretty insistent on spending evenings after races in between her legs, whether his result was good or not. He could spend eternity there, his mind all foggy and dreamlike- like he’ll stay there forever. “I won’t make a mess- I promise, we can be quick. I just wanna make you feel good,”

It’s her favourite request, and her dress is hitched up before he can ask again. Towards the beginning of last season, she’d worn a wide variety of jeans and other long pants, until she realised just how many they found themselves desperate for a quickie before or in between races, and she’d permanently switched to flowy dresses and skirts ever since. 

He arranges himself onto his front, up on his knees and hands while he keeps his chest the lowest angled part of his body. She’s laying in the same direction as him, her knees towards the ceiling and her back flush to the bench, her fingers occupied by playing with the hem of her dress so as to not cum the second she sees his desperate face in between her parted legs. 

It feels like her heart is stopping as his breath gets heavier and hotter on her clothed heat, the fabric basically ruined from how wet she’s gotten. A digit glides across the soaked material, taunting her as he pushes against it. “Fuck, Oscar,” She hits her head down against the pillow under her head, not even realising when she’d gotten this needy.

“You’re dripping,” He notes, his eyes huge and glossy, all mesmerised by the sight. A finger hooks into her waistband, pulling them down tantalisingly slowly. She forces her head up, just enough to study his expression from just above her cunt. He licks his lips, his pupils somehow growing bigger. “Holy shit,” He doesn’t waste a second, his face plunging forward so get his mouth all over her.

Oscar’s talented in many things. Driving, writing hit tweets, taking digs at DRS, being mature in all circumstances, making people laugh with his dry and sarcastic humour, but above all- he’s got a talented mouth. His teeth scrape along her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her bundle of nerves. Y/N could cum just from that, it feels like floating on cloud nine. She doesn’t even understand how it could possibly get any better until his nose begins nudging her clit, his tongue pushing inside her hole. 

His cock was leaky in his tight boxers, his rock hard bulge still concealed by his fireproofs handing awkwardly off his hips. As she stared down at him, she somehow got even wetter each time he paused momentarily to stare at her wrecked cunt then dove back in like a starved creature. Unclips nails dig further into her thighs, pushing them further apart so his face is fully coated in her wetness. “Oh my god Oscar,” Her voice comes out so depraved and debauched.

Only his eyes are visible as he keeps his steel hard gaze on her. A pair of usually big, puppy brown eyes, the type that ooze innocence and angelic beauty are hardened and dark with lust. Her hands slip into his hair, needing something to ground her as he takes her apart from the inside out. She genuinely can’t get over his hair. How silky it is, how good it feels to yank on, how hot he looks.

His fingers move from her thighs up to under her shirt, practised fingers trailing under the wire of her bra. He pulls the tight fabric far enough from her skin that it leaves a pale mark when it snaps back after release. It’s hell being tortured like this, but it also feels so good. His indexes and thumbs on both hands work the clasp of the bra, undoing it with not much work. It’s an improvement from a few months prior when she’d settled for doing each time as he was so clueless on how to do it smoothly. 

The crazed look in his eyes speaks a million words. She might be the only one getting a proper physical sexual gratification out of this, but he’s clearly getting off on her being in near excruciating pleasure. It feels better than anything they’ve done in a while. She bites her lip, watching as a lock of hair falls onto his forehead, a perfect little curl above his furrowed eyebrows. It’s cute, it’s hot, it’s everything- all at once. 

Now Y/N feels like she could cum just because of his hair, and that’s definitely a new thought.  

He moans, watching his eyes soften at the noise, “That’s so good- you’re fucking amazing at this,” He’s relentless- his tongue, noise, lips, and teeth all committed to making her reach her peak. “Look at you,”

“Look at me? Look at you,” God, he’s so whipped. His index finger glides along her open hole, slipping it inside her and curling it instantaneously. A pain bubbles in her stomach- she’s going to cum. “Fuck, look at that, so perfect around my fingers, just as perfect in my mouth.” She’s leaking around his fingers, her body reacting to his ministrations and praises. 

He can read her like a book, he knows that her twisted up expression can only mean one thing. “You don’t need to ask me, baby, you can come when you need to,” A sharp breath leaves her lungs and her head falls backwards, her orgasm crashing into her like a freight train. 

He kisses up from her aching cunt to her the lower part of her stomach, then her abdomen. He takes his time on her exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples, before marking her with a love bite in between them. “Looks good on you,“ He looks down at her from where he kneels between her legs, basically drooling at how wrecked she looks post orgasm underneath him. 

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, her core aching as she tries to sit up. She angles for a kiss, luckily met halfway by Oscar. “Your turn.. I wanna suck you off,” She pants, her hand moving to push down his race suit. He swats her hand away, laughing at her eagerness. 

“Nah, that was plenty for me to get you off,” He declines, slowly getting off of her so he can clean up the mess he did make in the end, despite his promise. She opens her mouth to argue with him but she’s swiftly shut up with his mouth back on hers. “Plus, I have qualifying in… fuck, like 10 minutes,” He frowns, helping to redress her. 

“Oscar?” Lando’s voice joins the conversation, once again right outside their door. “Now are you getting your dick sucked?” He taunts, like it’s a joke this time around. “Or can we head for quali together?”

He’s wrong, it was the other way around. “Nah, I’ll be out in a moment. Thanks for waiting for me,” He zips his suit up, giving Y/N a final grin.

“Oscar,” She groans. She hates leaving him hard, it feels unfair that she’s just had the best orgasm of her life and he has to go get in a car and drive around at crazy stupid speeds with an aching mass between his legs. 

“Y/N,” He mocks teasingly, peppering her face in chaste kisses, “I’m okay, If I have a killer qualifying session tonight, we’ll continue this later. She gives a final comb through his hair with her fingers, enjoying every bit of it just incase he decides to cut it.

P2 sure is killer, and the sex after it is amazing. Even better when he finds out about the penalty, because angry Oscar is so hot. Her hands stay planted in his hair the whole time, and by the end of it, in their post coital comfort, he promises he won't cut it for as long as she wants.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren racing #f1 #f1 rpf #formula1 #formula one #lando norris #mclaren #imola gp 2024 #hair kink

[lovrre]

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d too” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting avocado and toast due to his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson x black reader #Art Donaldson x black female #art donaldson x female reader

[undercoverpena]

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader smut #pedro pascal fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #jettsflora&faunachallenge #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

[flemingsfreckles]

Accident

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: you get hurt while cooking dinner with Jessie because you weren’t paying attention. When she asks what’s on your mind, you accidentally tell her too much. (Fluffy)

Warnings: minor injury, mentions of blood, cursing

WC: 1.9k

A/N: this started as a fic about Jessie being overly concerned and caring if you were to get injured and then it spiraled into whatever this is. For some reason I really like this fic, idk.

“Fuck.” You drop the knife, feeling the sharp pinch in your finger

“What happened?” Jessie spun around, rushing toward your side as you yelled.

“I cut my stupid finger. I’m fine.” You reassure her, your girlfriend always being the first to play nurse when you’re injured.

“Let me see it.” She stands behind you holding out her hands, making a grabbing motion.

“I’m fine.” You weren’t, the knife didn’t do any major damage but it hurt. And on top of the cut, you weren’t fine either, you were stressed, unable to focus, you brain clouded.

That’s what caused you to cut yourself in the first place, you had zoned out, nerves overcoming your brain as you thought through every step of tomorrow.

Wake up, try and get out of bed without waking your girlfriend, make Jessie her favorite breakfast, bring her said breakfast in bed, don’t spill it, you both just washed the sheets, offer up a afternoon date of a picnic, hope she says yes, bring a picnic, a blanket, all of the essentials for your date. Drive to the park, the park you had your first date, your first kiss, that park. Make sure your phone isn’t connected to the car, you don’t need her seeing any texts in the past few days.

Nope, before you leave, go into your sock drawer, into the back of it, grab the box. The box that held the ring you bought.

The engagement ring. Get the engagement ring, put it in your jacket, hopefully it was cool enough to wear a jacket without raising suspicions.

While you’re getting the ring, text Jessie’s sister, make sure she’s ready to be there, make sure she remembers her camera, obviously she’d remember the camera, but still make sure. Make sure the engagement party is set up. Check with Janine, check with Sinc, make sure it’s good, maybe check with her parents? They know you’re proposing, you had asked for their blessing, not permission because you’re girlfriend wasn’t their property but you still wanted to know they supported you joining their family. The party, they said for sure they were going to be safe, make sure they’re good to be at the party.

Hopefully it wasn’t going to rain, you should check the weather again, you’ve checked it six times today but maybe things have changed. If it rained, you’d have to completely change your plan. You should have a better back up plan. Moving to under one of the pavilions could work but Jessie wouldn’t leave the house if it was raining already.

Get the ring, drive to the park, get out of the car, don’t be suspicious. Set up the picnic, eat, or at least try to, who knows with nerves. Don’t act weird, act normal, act like you usually do. Don’t panic, don't accidentally tell her.

Ask her if she wants to recreate the photo the two of you took on your first date, if she says no, then your plan is fucked. If she says no, come up with something else, whatever you have to do. Hope she doesn’t say no. If she doesn’t say no, set up your phone, tell her to go stand so you can set up your phone. Make sure she’s in the frame, make sure she’s going to be in the video.

Set up your phone, make sure it’s recording, go back over to Jessie. Take the “photo” then point something out in the distance, when she’s turned, kneel down. Which knee were you supposed to kneel on? Did it matter? You should Google that. Hold out the ring. Did it matter which hand you held the ring in? Did you hold it with both? You should’ve been practicing this.

Make sure you have the ring, make sure it’s in your pocket. Grab it before you walk over to her. But don’t grab it where it’s obvious.

Open the box, toward her, not yourself, wait for her to turn around. Ask her to marry you, ask her to make you her wife, tell her that she’s the best thing in your life and you can’t imagine being anywhere without her. Tell her how you’re ready to spend every year, every week, every day with her. Tell her you don’t want to be her girlfriend anymore, you want to be her wife.

You had just started running through your speech in your head when you were interrupted by the stabbing in your finger.

“Let me look at it baby, sit.” She pats the countertop and you hop up sticking your hand out to her. “Here let’s run it under the water.” She encourages you. Now feeling overwhelmed from the idea of proposing, on top of injuring yourself, you start panicking inside.

“Jess I’m fine I just wasn’t paying attention.” You try and brush her off, only admitting you weren’t focused brings up concerns for Jessie.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot these past few days, is something bothering you?” Her hand comes to rest on your knees, you can feel her gaze in the side of your head but your eyes are fixated to the side looking down at your finger running under the faucet. You knew she would say yes to your proposal, you two had discussed marriage before, multiple times, you both were ready. But that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking.

“I don’t want you to be your girlfriend.” The words come out of your mouth. Naturally since that was the part of the speech you were practicing and rehearsing, that part of the speech falls out of your mouth.

“What?” She removed her hands from where they had been gently caressing your knees. She takes a few steps back, her face a mix of hurt and confusion, her eyebrows pinched together, a frown across her lips.

You had just told Jessie after five years of dating you didn’t want to be her girlfriend, with seemingly no reason.

“Oh my god.” Now you have no choice. You clasp your hand over your mouth and throw yourself off of the counter, running to your shared bedroom. You don’t even care that you’re bleeding. You rip open your sock drawer throwing socks across the room.

While you’re scrambling Jessie comes into the room, she was confused before but now she's angry. “What the fuck?”

“Hang on!” You shout at her, panic filling your body, digging out more and more socks not caring where they landed in the room, just searching.

“What the fuck are you doing, you say you’re breaking up with me and now you’re making a mess!” The pitch of her voice is up, you can tell she’s unsure of what’s going on, she’s nervous. At least that made two of you.

“No!” You shout as you throw out another pair of socks, finally feeling your fingers close around the wooden box. You grab it and pull it out. You hold it in your hands, looking at it for a second before remembering what you’re supposed to be doing. You kneel down, looking up at Jessie who has a mixed appearance of distress and surprise written across her face.

“Jessie, oh my god I’ve messed this up, I am so sorry” You start, immediately forgetting the speech that you worked on for weeks, the speech you practiced in the car, in the shower, at work, at home when Jessie wasn’t there, forgotten in an instant. So you just made one up.

“I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore because I want to make you my fiancée, and then my wife. I am so in love with you, you are the best thing that has happened to me. You are the kindest soul, my best friend, I have wanted to put a ring on your finger for years, and I want to spend every day with you.” It’s at this point you realize you are just holding a closed box up to your girlfriend. Of course she’s smart and knows what’s happening, you pop the box open mid speech anyway, causing Jessie to let out a giggle.

“I want to have a family with you, I want to travel with you, I want to cook dinner together, and clean the house with you, I want to do everything by your side. So, Jessie Alexandra Fleming, will you give me the honor of being your fiancée, and will you marry me?” You feel your hands shaking as you hold the box out to her.

You realize, despite staring up at Jessie, your vision had practically blacked out while you were speaking, suddenly having no recollection of the past minute. What you do see is your teary eyed girlfriend standing in front of you, nodding, her hand over her mouth. You can tell by her eyes she’s smiling.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, I love you.” She reaches down her hands coming to your face to pull you to stand, she pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss.

“I love you.” You say when you pull away, tears now in your own eyes.

“I love you.” Jessie whispers against your lips. You kiss her again before pulling back to take the ring out of the box. You hold out your other hand to take Jessie’s palm, gently pushing the ring onto her finger, your own hands still shaking.

She grabs your face, kissing you again. “I’m no longer your girlfriend.” She says when she pulls away, teasing you. You then start to realize that you just proposed. You had just proposed in your bedroom, with socks laying all across the room, you’re in ratty pajama pants and one of Jessie’s shirts, she’s in a pair of shorts and a crewneck. She was beautiful, stunning like always, no matter what she wore, but now you were worried she’d be mad she wasn’t at least a little more dressed up for this moment. You had done this all wrong, there was no picnic, no breakfast, no speech, no photos of the moment.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Jessie. I planned a whole thing, breakfast, the park, tomorrow, a picnic, your sister, our first date, I had a speech, there were going to be photos, I messed it up.”

“You didn’t mess it up, this was perfect.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” You say hanging your head, you should be celebrating but after your months of work perfecting your proposal idea you managed to blow it the day before.

“I’m not, I don’t lie to you. This,” she gestures between the two of you and around the room, “this is a perfect example of us, this mix of crazy and impulsive, that’s who you are, that’s the version of you that I fell in love with. You’re not a perfectionist, you’re not calculated, and that’s why I love you, I love how you are. The planning, the overthinking, it’s not you baby, this, the socks everywhere, the pajamas, the intimacy and privacy of this, this is you, this is us. I mean that, this is so much better. I can’t wait to get to experience this and you everyday for the rest of my life.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, now let’s get you cleaned up, you’re still bleeding on the floor.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

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The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”  

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”  

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.”  You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel,  never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.  

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair.  Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

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#dev writes #fic: by the grit of sandpaper #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #jackson joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller series #carpenter joel miller #artisan joel miller #woodworking joel miller #soft joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #patrol partnership #jackson era joel #ao3 #archive of our own #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

[ashwhowrites]

Yay! Requests are open!!! Can I get a smutty Eddie fic, where the reader is pregnant and they have sex, and it ends up inducing her labor. I feel like after the initial panic of "it's happening! it's happening!" Eddie would be so smug about it lol

I love this. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

No idea how the process of labor is so this might be very unrealistic

⚠️smut, daddy and momma nicknames

A bit of daddy's help

Y/N had been pregnant for a very long nine months. Her belly was huge and she could barely move around. At first she loved being pregnant, but now she wanted that baby out.

Eddie loved her pregnant glow, and he didn't want it to end. He loved helping her and being right beside her. He adored that she was growing their baby and he was happy it was with her.

He did feel bad for her. He knew how much it tore her body down, and how tired it made her. He did his best help. He rubbed her feet, he helped her walk, and he'd hold her stomach just to give her some relief. He'd do anything she asked.

~~~

"Still no baby," she grumbled as she wobbled out of the bathroom. "Spicy food? No go."

Eddie sat on the bed, with a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, baby." He said, she made her way on the bed. He held the blanket up as she slid in.

She sighed tiredly as the small movement sucked all the energy out of her. Eddie softly rubbed her stomach as he tried to soothe her.

"He'll come when he's ready" he said but her eyes snapped to him with a glare.

"He's on my time and I want him out now!" She growled.

Eddie tried to bite back his smile as he looked at her annoyed face.

"I know," he said, he leaned in and pecked her lips softly. He continued to rub her stomach, watching as her breathing calmed. "Was there anything else to try?" He asked. They have been through most of the list the doctor gave them but he wasn't sure what was left.

"There's one more thing," she said as she smiled. Her hand rested on top of his that was on her stomach.

"what's that?" Eddie asked

"Sex"

Eddie felt like his prayers were answered. A huge smile broke across his face.

"On it"

She laughed as he immediately stripped off his shirt. His tattooed chest came into sight as she felt herself already getting warm.

He leaned back down and held her face as he softly pressed his lips against hers. The kiss started sweet and gentle, but it didn't last long. Her hands were in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He kept one hand on her face as he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth. She moaned as she felt his tongue working against hers. He let his other hand wander down her body, slipping underneath her night tank top as he rubbed her belly.

The more he touched her, the more the kiss got hungry. Eddie having a huge pregnancy kink wasn't a shock to either of them. He waited years to fuck her without a condom, to fill her up with his cum. He craved to watch her belly grow and knowing it tied them together for life. He loved that anyone would see her on the street and know she was owned.

He pulled away for a few seconds before he kissed her again. Her left hand worked down his neck and down his back. He shivered as he felt her wedding ring tickle his skin, a reminder she was his for life.

He moaned as her tongue took charge of the kiss, and her right hand yanked on his hair as she pulled away.

"Ready to show me what you got, Daddy?" she purred

Eddie shivered at the name, his cock twitching in his boxers.

"Did you forget I'm the one responsible for the noise complaints? For filling you up so fucking good you got pregnant?" He challenged, a smirk on his face as he felt her body shudder.

He took his time to strip off her clothes. Removing her tank top and groaning at the sight of her swollen breasts and nipples. He reached forward, gently kissing the skin and flicking her nipples with his tongue. She moaned at the feeling, her hands in his hair. He moved down to her stomach, his big hands rubbing her bump as he kissed all around.

He didn't stay there long, removing his lips to strip the rest of her clothes, her hands losing the grip of his hair. He softly trailed up her legs, teasing her as he made it up to her thighs. He slowly trailed down her shorts. He enjoyed how she whimpered as she grew impatient. Then he tugged down her underwear, smiling at the sight of her puffy cunt.

"Gorgeous," he pissed as his lips softly kissed her clit. She jolted and her hands went back to his hair.

He didn't spend too much time between her legs. He knew both of them were so turned on that foreplay wasn't needed. But he still had to have a little taste. His mouth sucked on her clit as his fingers slipped inside of her.

Her head was thrown back as his skilled tongue and fingers worked together. She gripped at his hair and wanted to lift her hips but her body was too heavy. He made the most of it, his head twisting back and forth as he let his tongue touch everywhere.

She panted when he came back up for air. His chin soaked in her wetness, she clawed at his chest from the sight. He wiped his mouth and slammed his lips against hers, his fingers slipping out of her.

"Ready?" He breathed out, his body on top of her as he panted. His brown eyes look into hers for an honest answer.

"Yes," she said without a beat.

Eddie smiled and took off his boxers, lazily tossing them anywhere. He helped her turn on her side, then he went behind her. His lips were on her neck as he lifted her leg and placed it over his hip.

He listened to her sounds as he trailed his hand down and rubbed her swollen clit, she was so sensitive that she felt everything intensely. He rubbed her clit then slipped his pulsing cock inside of her.

He let out a loud moan as he continued to slip inside of her, her hands gripped the pillows as he sat fully inside of her. He was slow and soft at first, making sure she was comfortable. His left hand was under her head and his right played with her clit.

She loved feeling his hard chest against her back, the feeling of it slamming against her with each thrust. She could feel her eyes in the back of her head from feeling his hot breath against her neck. His growls and groans right into her ear.

"Love fucking you. Always feel so good wrapped around me," his words were hot in her ear as she shook. She whined at the compliments, her brain mush as she felt her body being taken care of in ways only her husband could.

"Just wanted Daddy's help to have a baby, huh?" He teased, he wished he had another hand available to rub her stomach. He was obsessed.

"Yes," she moaned, "yes, yes" her moans got louder as he went faster.

He could feel his heavy balls slamming against her. He didn't want to be too rough, clenching his jaw as he held himself back. This wasn't about him, it was to help her and help her have an orgasm.

"Need," she whimpered, her arm reaching back to touch him. She let her head wander until she felt his head. She gripped his hair as he growled louder.

"Need to cum?" He asked, his lips on her cheek

His fingers worked faster on her clit as she nodded. "Please,"

"Be daddy's good momma and cum all over me. Cum all over my fat cock,"

His words washed over like her orgasm. She felt that snap in her body as she gasped. The feeling went from head to toe as she came. Eddie fucked her through it, his fingers faster than ever against her clit as her leg shook on his hip.

When her moans turned to whines, he pulled his hand away. Softly thrusting inside of her, slowing down until his hips came to a full stop.

He slipped his soaked, still red and hard cock out of her.

"How was that?" Eddie panted as he moved her leg off of him and turned her on her back. His sweaty back against the mattress, he turned his head to look at her.

"Reminds me why I got pregnant in the first place," she laughed as she turned her head to look at him.

She squirmed as she took in his sweaty hair, his big smile with his perfect teeth, and the way his cheeks scrunched up. Her eyes moved down to his chest as it moved up and down quickly. Down his happy trail, following the line of hair, his dark curls and his thin hips peeked out from the sheet. The rest of his body was covered under the thin material.

"And that look reminds me why I got you pregnant," Eddie's chuckle turned into a moan as she turned her body and attached her lips to his neck.

"I don't feel anything, let's go again." She said against his skin

"Why don't we give it a second? We don't know how long it could take," Eddie explained through quiet groans as her hand began to travel down his chest. He could feel her cold wedding band against his hot skin, making him shiver.

He whined as she pulled her lips away, and her hand stopped right above his hard cock.

"I'm sorry. Are you saying you don't want to have sex again?" Her tone was accusing but she knew her husband. If sex was on the table, he was grabbing a chair.

"I just don't want to overdo it," he said softly

"Yeah I guess you're right," she sighed disappointed. She pulled herself away with a loud huff.

"We've been together for four years and married for one, and now you pick to listen to me?" Eddie asked in disbelief. "Come ride me, momma." He said with a smile as he tossed the sheet off of him.

She squealed with delight as she started to sit up, he helped her love gently and slowly. He eased her body on top of his, rubbing her thighs to soothe her as she got into the right position.

"I knew you wouldn't say no," she said with a smug smile, placing her hands on his hard chest.

"What's that saying?" he teased, his hot lips attaching to her neck. "Momma knows best?" she shuddered as he nipped at her skin.

He shuddered as she grabbed his cock, pumping it inside her hand before she lined his tip with her entrance.

His head fell against her chest as she sunk down on him, she took her hands off his chest. She leaned back and placed her palms on his thighs. The muscular and hairy skin underneath her hands.

He picked up his head as she softly began to move herself on top of him. He moved his left hand to hold her hip, softly encouraging her as she rolled her hips.

His right hand went straight for her bump. He softly rubbed her stomach as his eyes watched her body. Her eyes closed with bliss, the sweat on her hairline and the sweat that dripped down her chest.

Her body was a work of art and it always captivated him.

"So glad I married you," he smiled as he reached forward and cupped her face. Making her press her lips against him, her hands on his chest to balance. He felt her smile into the kiss.

He let her go back into her comfortable position, her hands back on his thighs. He clenched them as she gripped, her nails dug into the skin.

He reached forward and rubbed her clit.

The immediate touch was almost enough to make her cum. She panted hard as she lifted her hips as fast as she could to slam back down.

With a few more touches to her clit and Eddie bucking his hips up, had her cumming all over again.

But this time

She felt more than just cum soaking them, then he followed after. Moaning as he came inside of her.

"Is that?" Eddie asked, his eyes wide as he looked at the sheets.

"Stand me up!" She rushed out.

Eddie was quick to lift up her hips, his cum now adding to the mess below. He panicked as he slipped out from under her, he grabbed her hands and helped her off the bed.

As she stood, more liquid came out of her.

"It's happening!" She panicked, her eyes scared as she looked at her husband.

"Shh, it's okay! Let's get you dressed." He was quick to slip a shirt of his on her and some clean boxers.

He kissed her face, a big smile on his face.

"We're having a baby!" He said in awe

"NOT HERE! GET ME IN THE CAR!" she screamed.

He nodded and dressed himself as fast as he could. He grabbed all the bags and dropped them at the front door.

Then he grabbed her, helping her waddle to the car. He got her placed in the seat as a sharp pain went through her. She grabbed his hand and hissed through her teeth.

"Breath, baby, breathe," he said as he clenched his jaw. Her grip bruised his hand.

"I am BREATHING YOU BASTARD!"

"Where was that tone five minutes ago?" He teased, laughed at her glare, and kissed her nose. He ran back into the house and grabbed the bags.

Then he was off to the hospital

He reached over to let her hold his hand.

"I know you are terrified but I want you to know one thing," he said, his head turned to look at her.

She breathed as she looked over at him.

"I fucked you into labor," he said with a big smirk and wink sent her way.

"Oh shit, now that's all I'm gonna hear for the rest of my life." She said as she rolled her eyes.

~~~

"I can't believe you guys have a baby," Steve said softly as he looked at the small boy in Eddie's arms. Y/N slept in the bed beside them.

"I can't believe she allowed you to have sex with her," Robin laughed, her eyes on the little boy behind Steve

"Jealous?" Eddie snapped, a smirk on his face as she rolled her eyes.

"How did her water break? I want the whole story!" Nancy squealed excitedly.

The big smirk on Eddie's face got even more smug, which no one thought was possible.

"Well, we tried everything the doctor said, and the last thing on the list was all in my hands." The group looked at him confused as he continued to explain. "So, being the amazing husband I am. I turned her on her side and grabbed her left leg to put it on my hip. Then I slipped inside of her. Sweet and slow, she was so we-"

"WE GOT IT!" Dustin yelled as he covered his ears.

"You could have just said sex," Nancy said as she gagged.

"You wanted the whole story!" Eddie defended, "but the first time wasn't enough to induce the labor...or was enough for her." He gave a wink to Steve who rolled his eyes. "So we went at it again, like minutes later. She was all over me." Eddie bragged. "After her second orgasm, that was when she went into labor."

"Can't believe such a disgusting thing led to something beautiful," Dustin said, patiently waiting for his turn to hold the baby.

"Oh Dusty," Eddie laughed, "nothing about it was disgusting. Just you wait." Eddie said as he handed the baby off to Steve. Leaving his hands free to slam down on Dustin's shoulders.

"It'll be the best time of your life," he said as he walked over to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as she slept.

"You and him for the rest of my life."

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #dad eddie x mom reader #eddie munson x pregnant reader

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

#peter parker #writing #tom holland #andrew garfield #marvel #fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter x you #peter parker imagines #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker writing #avengers x reader #avengers #the avengers #tom holland!peter parker x reader #mcu!spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader

[sanguineterrain]

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #red Hood x reader #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #red Hood x yn #jason todd x y/n #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[lxvebun]

I'll wait forever if I have to

synopsis:you're worried Satoru's teasing has gone a bit too far. There's nothing wrong with saving your first kiss for someone special, right?

content: Suguru Geto x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Comes off a lil angsty in the beginning but its fluffy and sickeningly sweet. Around 1k words. Written with hidden inventory arc in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but read it however you want♡.We are all a little lovesick for Suguru and he's a lil lovesick for you♡ eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡ enjoy!!

Based on Satoru's version of the fic♡

"Does it bother you that Satoru teases you so much?" The question breaks the comfortable silence you had as he walked you home. Sky fading from pink and orange cotton candy clouds to a clear and deep navy gradient canvas clustered with stars and moonlight.

Suguru is Gojo's bestfriend. You're sure he's used to his antics. Still, Satoru can take it a little far sometimes. Being oblivious to or ignoring the line completely. Crossing over it with a skip in his step and a smirk on his face.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, you know." You reassure. Perhaps a little to yourself too. You'd wait forever for him, not that he knows.

(You kinda wish he did.)

You keep your voice soft, and soothing even with the unintentional undertone of worry. But Soothing enough to dulcify if Satoru's teasing did leave some cracks in his heart.

He lets out a low amused hum in agreement. Smooth as warm honey. Its drum startling the butterflies between your ribs awake. Not that he has to do much anyway to awaken them. It seems like they are always fluttering around when he's near. A bit smothering at times. Making your head fog over with images of liquid golden eyes and sickeningly sweet smiles.

You reach the traffic light before he speaks again. Filling the silence of waiting until the red light turns green.

"You don't have to worry about that, y/n. It's not hurting my feelings. I'm more than content to wait for my person" he answers sincerely. Not an ounce of impatience dripped from his voice. He means every word.

My person. his words weigh a little heavy on your heart. My person. Does that mean he already has his eyes set on someone? You're pretty sure a few of the butterflies have lost it's wings. Wings Shriveled and shattered at the thought. Broken bodies wriggling uncomfortably in your gut. Anxious and mourning as you think over who it could be. Would it be different if you'd just confessed already? Did you miss your chance or was there never any to begin with?

(The thought of him making someone else's heart race the way he does yours makes you a little sick)

You don't look at him. He's always been good at reading you, so in tune with your well being. You're an open book to him and usually, you're more than happy to let his fingers glide over the pages. Break you open to study you up close. Hoping that one of the words, one of the chapters in there is enough to lure him in, like a sirens song. Enough to steal his heart ...damn, how dare he fall for someone else.

"Sounds like you already have someone in mind, then". It comes out forced as you swallow down what you really want to say. Unable to decide between cursing him out or confessing to him on the spot.

You keep your gaze at the light ahead as if the force of it can will it into turning from this horrible shade of red to green, so this conversation can be over. So you can continue to walk in silence, so he can drop you off at the front door, wait until he hears the lock click from inside as he always does and you can dive into the comfort of your bed, dream of what could have been and try your best to move on

(You don't think you can if you're honest)

But again, you're an open book to him. He almost looks proud as he glances you over. Standing up a little straighter, failing to suppress a smile. A horribly beautiful smile that does not at all fit the turmoil inside your head. As if you're reaction solidified something in him.

God, how long does it take for a light to switch?

Your gaze doesn't falter as he steps closer to you. His warmth, his cologne enveloping your senses, wrapping around you like a spiderweb. Fitting as you feel like your heart is going to be torn out at any moment. Waiting for the words that will fracture your hopes. you think of just booking it through the red right at this point and leave him to choke on his rejection.

"Will you look at me, please"

He's replicating the soothing tone you used on him. Only he's so much better at it. Smooth like warm butter and sweet as syrup. How could you possibly deny him when he sounds this heavenly.

He's a patient man, he is. But he doesn't want to hurt you. Doesn't want you to shatter your own heart even more by thinking he could ever love someone the way that he loves you. As if he could ever want anyone else when it's always going to be you that captured his heart.

His fingers slide under your jaw, grip delicate as can be as he turns your head to meet his eyes. You're a little embarrassed at the lack of resistance on your part.

His face is kind. And despite your hesitance, his eyes are easy to hold. Feeling like sunsets on a warm summer evening.

"I'm just waiting for you to be ready too. However long it takes."

A timer goes off. The light has finally turned green. you both stay unmoving.

You feel like you've been staring into his eyes for hours when really it's only been a few seconds of silence after his words. Then you half-heartedly push him off. A laugh bubbles up your throat, relief evident in the melodic tone.

"you're awful, you know that?" not a sliver of actual malice in your words. He knows that too. continuing to stare at you fondly, eyes soft and a little love-sick. Smiling brightly at your words as if you complimented him.

"And you're beautiful"  the timer of the traffic light is sounding quicker now, similar to the beating of your heart. Indicating that it will soon turn red again.

You have a moment of bravery. confidence, as you intertwine your fingers with his and pull him across the street before the light turns red. His grip is nice and firm, tracing heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb. Doodling silent I love you's into your skin.

you continue to walk to your home together. Hands now interlaced. Hearts intertwined. Crisp evening air kissing your skin and calming the heat blooming in your body.

"I don't want to have my first kiss at a traffic light. You deserve something more romantic than that too," you begin. swaying your hands back and forth. Focusing on the street infront of you. You see your front door coming into view.

"But if you feel the urge to kiss me as you drop me off at my doorstep," you see him begin to grin in the corner of your eye. It tugs at the corners of your lips too

"I'll let you"

thank you for reading, angels!! I'm havinf such Suguru brainrot atm😩🩷 he's so cute.

Also I thought his eyes were brownish/ gold because I always just imagine him with that but they are purple....🔪 YOU🫵 ARE GOING TO IGNORE THAT FOR NOW AND IMAGINE THEY ARE GOLD AS WELL. Thank you🩷

#jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru fluff #geto x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, mentions of sex, hospital scare, ghosting, rumors as a plot device, what may be considered as bullying, mc refuses to monologue about her feelings, the works. WORD COUNT. preview: 1.2k words | full fic: est. 30k.

RELEASE DATE. end of may or within the month of june. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. this is a sequel to 모기 / MOGI. remember when i said i wasn’t planning on writing a part two to this? haha, remember? well, this might be my best work yet gosh darn, life works in mysterious ways! i poured my entire fucking soul into this! 

something i’d like to mention is that i’ve already planned out this entire sequel before beomgyu’s sukidakara cover came out, before i revisited his other two covers. the timing was crazy because there’s three major arcs to this fic— and somehow, all three songs fit the themes. really really well i started crying at some point HAHAHAHAHHA. there’s so much i want to say about this story, but i’ll bite my tongue until its release. enjoy!

preview under the cut.

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom for the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. Beomgyu turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here,, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air. You’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still, it’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer..

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

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