#one day I will be struck down for saying things

[pascals-doll]

AGORA HILLS

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 after your date turns into a night of hell, love is there to show you how sweet life is about to get. | 7.9K

ೀ THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

ೀ SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.3

ೀ i wanna say a biggg thank you to bookie @openupforme for encouraging me to whip up the scene where ellie tries readers ethnic food and also being the sweetest 🥹 love u bb!

ೀ description: MODERN AU! VIOLENCE! ANGST! DESCRIPTIVE MENTION OF BLOOD L/FIGHTING! MAJOR FLUFF !!! FLUFF, MILD ANGST, latina!reader, mentions of smoking weed and drinking, mentions of Joel throughout, ellie learning spanish!!! (i lowk had too much fun this), kissing/makeouts, ellie and jesse indulge in reader and Dina’s ethnic food, mention of y/n (___).

CHAPTER FOUR

❝ i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke ❞

❝ what the fuck did you say? ❞

Ellie’s voice rang through your shut-out ears inaudiblely.

it felt like the entire world just stopped moving, your hearing becoming obstructed by ringing, muffling any sound or voice as your mind completely shut down.

you felt your entire system almost reset with pure rage, absolutely loosing it.

your mind might’ve shut down but your body senses didn’t fail you as the only thing that continue to ring through your mind was each word that left that man’s mouth.

your brain pounding with the words.

❝ i wonder— ❞

❝ how he would feel if he knew—❞

❝ if he knew his girl was—❞

for you, it was all unraveling in slow motion as your minds clouded your conclusion thinking.

for Ellie, she was ready to punch the man, speaking up “what the fuck did you just say?” but within the blink of her own eyes, you had already charged at the man.

your vision was vermillion, blinded by rage.

your body was auto-response, having a mind of its own. your manicured nails dug into the skin of his flesh as your hands clawed onto him after charging at him.

your first punch was sloppy and impactful, the adrenaline was enough to numb the painful sensation that would bring you hell later, your manicure scratching his face.

your knee dug into his rib-cage as you were onto of him, each one of your hands landing their very own ablaze blows to his head and face. you didn’t care to check if you had broken a nail or for anything in that matter.

your only focus was him like your own mental target as he was clearer than day, now under you while his hands struggle to force away your own. your anger gave you enough adrenaline to strengthen yourself; overpowering his attempts of trying to roll you under him.

you had finally recognized the motherfucker.

it was your ex’s ex-coworker from his old job, he had met you a couple times when you and your ex-boyfriend would hang out with his old group of work friends.

if it wasn’t for his stupid name-tag, you wouldn’t of even remembered that the prick’s name was Cameron.

yeah, that name definitely rang a bell.

the only reaction to your own proper thought was your impact against his face plaguing him more than before, your furry only festering more.

all you could think about was your ex.

he cheats on you and then he goes around telling his friends, what? come after you for leaving his ass? like they had the goddamn right?

your mind was in a tormental frenzy, one frantic thought being replaced with another, now all you could hear was his words again.

❝ how he would feel if he knew—❞

❝ he—he—he—he ❞

each mental repeat was violent scratching hit to his face.

Ellie just stood there, awe-struck because of how quick everything emersed into a violent situation. she was ready to charge at the man, but she wanted to talk her shit first.

she was a shit talker as much as she was a fighter.

but you? there was no words, just raging punches.

you were sure your fists were red, cut up, and sore; possibly even fractured but you couldn’t see with the hair in your hair and your body thrashed against his hands that tried to grab a hold of you aggressively.

you could hear mumurs and gasps from people, heavy footsteps of the restaurant staff buzzing around you as his hands punctured a squeeze into your arms your hand managed to pick his head and throw against the restaurant floor.

your throat gutted out a shriek of anger, suddenly being pulled off by random hands off the now, bloody bruised man.

the second ellie heard you scream, she was pulled out of her struck-stuck trance, immediately running to the staff member that was able to pull you off of Cameron.

“don’t you fucking touch her!”

ellie yell echoes through the restaurant, another staff member running up infront of ellie “If you get involved, we will be pressing charges!” the random restaurant staff member warns ellie.

she shrugs off the staff members hands off of her before running over to you as you were yelling for the random staff member to let go of you, trying to wriggle yourself out of their embrace.

“you need both need to leave this establishment now!” another staff member yelled at the both of you as Ellie reaches out to grab you, the staff member letting go of the tight hold they had on you to release you towards Ellie.

you’re body was shaking with violent thrill, laughing almost manically. “you need to check the people you fuckin’ let work here!” you spat back loudly, you look around at the crowd of other restaurants guests began to form around the entry room.

“FOR EVERYONE’S INFORMATION, I JUST BEAT CAMERON’S ASS WHOM YOU MAY NOT KNOW BUT IS THE TRASHY WAITER THAT YOU DON’T CARE TO TIP CAUSE HE LOOKS AND IS BUILT LIKE AN ASSHOLE”

you didn’t care that you looked crazy making the announcement as you squirmed in Ellie’s hold, flanting your blood-covered arms around with each yell and your dress also slightly being covered in someone’s blood; not caring if it was yours or his.

“____, your arm!” Ellie said, immediately reaching out to hold it.

you adverted your gaze from the crowd, who know looked at the man who had now stood up from the floor; surrounded by the staff as the crowd whispered to each other.

he broke through the flesh of your arm when he squeezed you, slightly dry, yet oozy blood beading down your arm.

“leave now before we call the police!” the staff warn once more.

you heard ellie softly reassure in your ear. you leaned into her as her back against the front door.

but you had one thing to say before you left.

“go ahead and tell him, then tell him i said, ‘i fuckin’ dare him to show up to my work again. he will end up alot worse than you’—” you began as your eyes burned into his fucked-up face.

you didn’t care if anyone was looking nor caring for anyone else; making sure he picked up on every single word you said.

“tell him—its not a threat, its a promise fuckin’ marícon!”

just like that, Ellie’s back pushed against the front door.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

what a great way to end the fucking night.

you both walked across the bumpy asphalt pavement of the parking lot. the cold breeze finally stinging your wounds, you couldnt help but let out a loud wince.

youre entire body felt on fire, mental completely overwhelmed by all types of emotions.

you were shaking with leftover furry, you wanted to cry your eyes out, you felt embarrassed, and most of all, you were scared.

you weren’t scared of what just happened or what your ex wanted from you. you were scared of how ellie might see you; you were scared of the questions she might ask.

your body was worn out, your legs wobbly as they ached from all the thrashing around. you guys walked closer to her car but eventually your legs gave out.

you slipped onto the floor, tripping over nothing but the own pain inflamed in your ankles and knees.

that was all it took for you to breakdown.

“hey hey, we’re almost there—talk to me.” ellie catches you almost immediately.

she laid you softly onto the dirty rocky pavement alongside you, resting half of you ontop of her. she couldn’t of cared less about the dirty floor, frankly caring to have you lay on her instead of the dirty public pavement.

she lulled you and hummed against your ear as you sobbed uncontrollably in her arms, no thoughts just tears. “c’mon baby, we’re almost there and everything will be okay” her whispers sounded like angels talking as she covered your shaking body with her arms.

you gasped out through choked sobs “i—can’t—go home like this!” you cried out, you can’t imagine what you would have to tell your parents; with them having to see you bloody with bruises.

Ellie mustered up her strength to pick you up from ontop of her, her hands strongly holding you up by your waist; hauling your body softly “s’okay, its all okay—i can talk to Joel—shit! lets cross everything off tonight!” she jokes light-heartedly, trying to ease up the overwhelmed tension inside you.

it works, of course it works.

she knew how to make you laugh, you couldn’t breathe almost from how much you laughed earlier during dinner. you couldn’t help but let a teary smile tug your flushed face as you looked into Ellie’s eyes, giving her small meek chuckle.

her heart shattered just seeing you cry, she takes one of the hand that was around your waist tightly; once you reached the doors of her car, she took your face and wiped the tears that dripped down your cheeks.

Ellie felt a hulking weight on her shoulders seeing you breakdown the way you did, she could care less about the ravenous rage she just seen you go through. she cared more about the fragile woman she had in her arms.

this was completely different, this moment exposed your vulnerability; not only yours, but Ellie’s aswell, to each other.

this whole situation completely contrasted the side you showed to everyone, the side Ellie was used too. the woman who walks into any room with her head held high, challenging, and ready to take on anything with your fierce self.

“I really really dont want to meet your dad covered in blood and bleeding” your tone was no longer shaky or croaked, still keeping its sensitive tone as you spoke back light-heartedly.

ellie knew you were serious through your playful tone. she gave you a soft smile as she opened the car door for you, even helping your aching body get in carefully.

once you were both in the car and settled, you calmed down more; even quicker than you thought with the help of Ellie’s embrace and reassurance.

“can you take me to Dina’s—you can come, but i understand if after tonight—” once you began to speak, you were cut off by ellie immediately.

“no, i don’t care to hear what leaves your mouth—it ain’t true, pretty. wherever you go, im going.” ellie poured out, looking into both of your eyes like she was searching in them.

“if that’s okay with you” she finishes, her eyes glistened softly as her eyes loved on you.

you could almost start crying again. well, you did.

“put dina on the phone—let’s call it night, alright?” she wiped each singular tear that dropped from each of your eyes, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie helped you up the apartment hallway stairs, helped you all the way towards the elevator till you were at Dina’s front door; even holding you up as you jingled the keys into the lock.

this was a definitely story-time.

you unlock the door, hand turning the knob as you let yourselves in; almost immediately you hear your name being called out by Dina through her apartment.

you were greeted by your bestfriend who ran up to you, engulfing you. you rocked back slightly, catching yourself on your feet at the impact of her hug.

“are you okay? what the fuck happened?” Dina’s rushes out, anxiety evident in her voice.

“Jesse?” you heard Ellie call out as your eyes examined the room, falling onto the man who was sat on the couch.

“i was here when Dina got the call…you good?”

it was endearing watching them, the way he picked up on how ellie didn’t even want to speak, just leaning into his side for a hug.

you let out a sigh, your arms grew weak as they loosen trying to embrace her. Dina held your body as she motioned for you to step out of your shoes.

your legs wobbled out with each little movement.

“hey jesse—sorry i look like a crime scene.” you joke out which he just gave a slight smile too “you look bad-ass.” he chuckles causing you to giggle, finally stepping your bare-feet onto dina’s wooden floor.

“you gonna be okay, ___?” jesse was concerned just as much through his wittiness. you give him a confident smile and nod, not wanting to let up your vulnerability again.

“im gonna get her cleaned up, ellie would you like a change of clothes?” Dina lets them know, wrapping her arm around you to hold you up, leaning herself into your semi-limp body to help you step.

“i’d appreciate it Dina, thank you!—also i hate to fucking ask but i need a smo—”

“Bong’s on the kitchen table, Jesse has the pack.” Dina smiles out before helping you down her apartment hallway into her bathroom.

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“remember Cameron?” you nettled out, breaking the silence between the two of you as Dina bathed you.

“that one guy you tried to get me to go on a double date on with you and your ex?”

“yeah, him—he works at the restaurant we went to eat at.”

“jesus christ—” you cut her off.

“he recognized me the second he got to our table Deens—he was giving me this fucking look.”

“what the fuck did he say?”

“he didn’t say anything at first—as we were walking out of the restroom—”

“i thought you guys were eating, why were you both in the—”

“Deens, let me fucking finish!” you whine out as she continues to scrub down your naked body with the personal loufa you leave for when you sleepover; washing away the blood into the water down into the bath-drain.

“sorry sorry—im listening.” she gets up momentarily to open one of her bathroom cabinets.

“we were about to literally leave, Dina—so close through those fuckin’ doors—he goes ‘i wonder how he would feel if he knew his girl was a dyke’ i just lost it.”

“wait, ‘he’ as in….” Dina began to trail off.

“yes!—hearing ese’pendejo mention him—then that fucking word.” you grumbled out, feeling angry again.

Dina came back with hydrogen peroxide, rubbing alcohol, and a couple healing ointments along with the cotton pads to tend to your wounds.

Dina had already got done helping you finish washing up in the bathtub, the hot water was still running to keep your tense muscles from aching continuously.

your knees were a bit scraped up, slight yellow tint underlying in your skin;you knew you would wake up with those to be purple the next day.

Dina picked up one of your arms first, later on tending to the other.

“he did this?”

she looked at each puncture in your skin, a crease-cutting through indents of each five nails digging into each of your arms.

you scoff. “Si no lo hubiera hecho en su lugar de trabajo, me estarías rescatando de la cárcel ahora mismo.” (if he didn’t do it at his workplace, you would be bailing me out right this moment.)

you weren’t kidding. Dina knew you weren’t, even with the slight giggles you both let out to lighten the mood as she tended to all your wounds precisely. she finished up by aiding each arm, wrapping around a white gauze around before putting her fluffy robe on you.

you both made it back to your room for you to change into comfortable clothes and pick out some of your clothing for ellie to wear.

the midnight definitely made up for the encounter you and ellie had to go through earlier. the four of you spent the night passing the bong around, you and ellie specifically getting so high out your asses.

you were all indulging in the sweet playful haze the terpenes fogged inside your bodies. nothing was serious, popping jokes left and right; shit, even the whole shitty was situation turned into a meer joke with the four of you.

“anything is fighting attire for this one!” Dina laughs out pointing at you, coughing out the smoke after.

“eesh! i believe it—you should’ve seen—she looked like a cheetah pouncing with that dress on!” ellie chuckles out, following Dina’s joke as her high low-eyes rake through you.

“idiotás…” you laugh out as you pass the bong to Jesse.

“hey! i’m not the one callin’ you ‘national geographic’—what does that even mean?” Jesse retorts playfully before hitting the bong.

“bro just add the ‘ass’ to idiot” Ellie makes fun of Jesse playfully while completely butchering the spanish syllable.

“oh ellie, stop talking!—your first spanish lesson will be with ___ tomorrow.” Dina teases.

you all soaked in the Dina’s living room full of marijuana smoke until the high laughter shared between all of you would take you all out into a slumber. it was later than 3 am by the time you all knocked out.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

it was the next morning, probably the best morning’s you’ve ever had even with the excruciating pain you woke up with.

you woke up entangled in ellie’s arms, you both fell asleep on Dina’a couch while Jesse and Dina slept in her bedroom.

you fluttered your eyes open, head on her chest while each one of her arms was wrapped around you almost protectively. you could hear each beat of her heart as her chest heaved softly, mumuring in a pattern underneath the side of your head.

the feeling of her heartbeat was like listening to the pleasing sound of rain tricking against a window; bringing the same bliss, maybe even more as listening to her heartbeat lulled you in and out of sleep.

‘esto tiene que ser como se siente el paraíso.’ (this must be what heaven feels like)

ellie had her hands loomed into and through the texture of your hair, holding the back-side of your head slightly; cradling your head almost.

the atmosphere was incensed by the mixture of body-heat you shared through each others bodies. the warm felt like something stronger than a blanket.

the sun-ray shines through Dina’s tall curtains that covered her wide-spread windows, enhancing the two of you under nature’s glow.

you took in the way her fair skin contrasted your bronze one beautifully, the way her tattoos illuminated, especially the tattoo of her fern and moth; you admired all her small other tattoos.

she had a a cursive J on her other wrist, Joel’s initial.

on the same arm, on her arm cephalic she had a line that was a thin as a guitar string. you observed the small prominent ink and the way it wrapped around her arm.

ellie’s tattoos were simple but you knew they were symbolic in some way which made her tattoos completely beautiful to you. unknowningly, your hands had been caressing the soft skin of her arms as you traced over her tattoos; getting lost in her shut eyes.

“buenos días” you could hear ellie’s morning voice, her thick rasp as she grumbled out.

your eyes widen slightly taken aback, you were hoping she hadn’t sensed you staring. you dipped your face into the crevess between eachother’s arms; slightly embarrassed.

“mírala, primera día conmigo y ya sabes.” (look at her, first day with me and you already know.) you played with her as you hid your face away.

“hold on hold on, don’t get too confident in me now.” ellie retorts quickly, her eyes completely widen out of groggy slumber at the smooth quick pace of your accent; almost not catching onto any of the foreign words.

you let out a bit of louder laugh, god, she could even wake you up with a laugh.

“buenos días, bombón” the tension was like dripping sugary corn syrup, the most honeyed atmosphere you had ever been engulfed with and exposed too.

there was no way you could ever compare your ex to ellie. not in one singular way could the love you were feeling for ellie ever be compared to the love you have felt.

“should’ve payed more attention to spanish in highschool and Joel’s tutoring.” you tease her with a smile at the mention, how she miserably failed all four years of spanish even with Joel’s basic—practically ‘personal google-translate’ help.

Ellie grabs the pillow she was laying her head on to playfully hit you with it. your arm reflexes and reaches out your hand, just in time to stop the pillow from hitting your side. you both burst into a fit of giggles as you begin a soft playful morning tussle.

you grab ahold of the pillow that ellie tries to push closer to you with her hands, you eventually find the perfect moment to slip it out of her tight grip and throwing it across the room; taking one leg and hoisting it on her hip as you both laid on your sides.

Ellie rolled you over, trying to tip you onto Dina’s huge black furry carpet. you immediately caught yourself on the rest of couch arm-rest, leaving you on top of her, each leg bent to each of her sides.

this position was compromising in someway, you felt more connected to her like this. the smiles from your faces didn’t falter for second, but only shifted into admiration.

you both admired eachother, both of your eyes holding overflowing adoration. your essences soak into each other as ellie traces your tattoos. she replicated the treatment you were showing her from earlier as you studied the shape of her lips, how long her lashes were, and the way her hair fell down; few strands falling onto her face.

you were so used to seeing her with her hair up, she mentioned to you how it was just more comfortable for her, how she grew to enjoy the feeling of the breeze of her neck. maybe it wasn’t a big deal, but it was for you.

in some way you felt this as a way of ellie’s vulnerability, dropping her guard and allowing you to see her with such intimacy and in ways you had never seen her before,—you knew this was different for her too.

that was the thing with her, your thoughts to yourself continue as you lean closer into her, chests pressing together; aligning heartbeats as you got lost in a strong energetic haze.

the scene was ethereal.

the sun glowing trancing your deep embrace, silhouetting your skin-to-skin held contact onto the shined-on carpet covered floor. the way your head laid ontop of Ellies as her own dipped into the clavicle of your shoulder, her deep breathing feathering your collarbone and tickling you.

eventually your heads meet, foreheads touching as your eyes poured into each other. you watched the way Ellie’s eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, then repeating. it seemed like an all natural action when your lips met.

the kiss was so gentle and soft, yet overfilled with so much. your lips tingled against the warm feeling of Ellie’s tongue swiping over your bottom lip, wanting more of your lips.

there wasn’t a single worry between the two of you. you brought your gauzed up hand to caress her cheek which she softly grabbed your wrist, departing from the kiss you shared to peck your bandaged bruised knuckles.

“i’m sorry about—”

”don’t you ever apologize for something you don’t have too.” Ellie told you sincerely, cutting you off.

“but you don’t understand—” you continued to push.

“ill understand with you, and if i don’t. you will teach me.”

Ellie didn’t even want you trying to protest once more, pulling you back into her lips softly. your lips continuing moving in a plush motion.

your hands found their way to her hair, entangling them through her smooth straight locks, massaging your fingertips into her scalp. you hummed contently into the savorful kiss that you shared; your mind wanting more, craving and needing more.

it felt like each wet passionate lock between each other was an eternity of bliss.

Ellie’s hands caress up and through your back, her fingers tracing your spine before resting them onto the dip of your hips.

“lesbians are making on my couch—okay! going back inside my room!” Dina calls out before quickly retreating into her own bedroom.

you both whipped your heads around, breaking your kiss instantly; just to catch the door closing shut.

you both fell into a fit of giggles as each other’s doed out eyes soaked into the morning aroma together.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the way the four of you spent the day together.

you all started off the day by settling to go to the classic old diner down the road for a good breakfast. it was 10:20 AM by the time you guys were smoking out of your purple ‘alien-looking’ pipe, as described by Ellie, herself.

maybe it was this morning, maybe last night.

it has now more than ever became clear to you exactly how Ellie had you feeling, being more handsy on both ends. you couldn’t help but feel as your skin was burning, if her hands weren’t there to cool you down.

definitely now more than ever, it was crystal clear.

“uhm, earth to the both of you!” Dina clears her throat, calling out loudly to the both of your attention.

a moment ago, your legs were on ellies lap as her hands caressed all up and down your exposed legs due to you wear some simple shorts. it wouldn’t be believable but you didn’t understand how quickly just a couple loveable leg rubs led to a mini make-out sesh behind Dina and Jesse in the passenger seat.

you both jumped away from each other, as if you had both been pulled into a trance as you both blinked away at your friends reactions.

“lets go before y’all eat each other for breakfast.” Jesse jokes out as he opens his passenger door causing a heat to rush onto ellie’s cheeks shut up—you kept us up all night.—ellie’s smart and quick to remark teasingly.

once finally seated into the cute diner, very vintage americana looking diner. the four of you were all seated into a red-seats booth that had a table with fake cherries for table decor.

you scanned the menu below, taking in all the options of different breakfast entrees; the variety of omelettes, sandwiches, toasts, and pancakes. you settled on frosted fluffy strawberry french toast while you ordered coffee.

“jeez, you and Joel—coffee lovers, bleh!” ellie grimaced in fake disgust and disbelief, making a forced disgusted noise after ordering herself.

“why thank you, Joel and I have taste.” you sarcasm out, giggling slightly. Ellie just admired the way your smile tugged your cheeks and creased your eyes joyfully.

Ellie matched your small chuckle as you spoke up. “we will mock your hate over our hot cup of coffee!” you lean in, bringing your pointer finger to poke at her dimpled cheek which she reactively crinkle her nose.

everyone finished ordering their choice of meals, indulging in humorous banter all together. you learned about how about ellie’s summer this one time Joel had a fling with this sweet mexican woman he completely fell infatuated with, how it was probably the best summer of her life due to the countless of grill-outs they both loved to have.

“oh so, your thing for latinas runs in the family?” you quirk causing Jesse to let out a holler as Dina snorts out, using her hand to cover her mouth.

“uh—what—how did you even come up with that?” Ellie stumbles over her word.

“nah yeah, it definitely run in the family.” Jesse chimes in with a smirk causing you to clap and laugh out just more.

“the both of you don’t have a single fuckin’ idea on what your on about!” Ellie retorts, for some reason, her cheeks rushing fusion.

as you were about to speak up, the waitress came with each one of your plates. you all ate silently, yet peacefully and happily. the silence connecting you all more if anything.

one hand held your dullish knife as your other hand held your fork; you held your toast down with your fork as your cut off a piece off your toast, gathering the maple syrup along with the topped frosted butter. you let out a moan of content as the sweet combination hit your tastebuds as your eyes widen in pure foodie-bliss.

the scene of you trying a delicious meal, savoring it too was possibly the most adorable and gorgeous thing you’ve done in the past month you spent with her, exploring eachother. you took a few more bites before your little amused grin while you swallowed your bites of food turned your grin into a smile as you began to cut another piece of your toast. you repeat the same steps before asking, well not really.

you held the fork up as you hummed loudly and excitedly—ready to airplane a spoonful into Ellie’s mouth.

“tè va a’ gustar…” you muttered under your blissed breath.

Ellie opens her mouth, grinning as she hears the little spanish sentence fall from your lips. you playfully do a small swerve, then eventually holding it close to her mouth for her to close her lips around. she kept eyes contact with you as she ate the piece of toast off your fork, eyesbrows raising in delight which you only nod your head, knowingly too.

Jesse and Dina watched the both of you amused before returning to their own conversation, how it was dina’s dream to roadtrip to California. you could hear her small talk drown out from your ears as the world felt like it spun, making it feel like it was just you two.

“it’s delicious, mama.” she hums out.

“i know, now say ‘que deliciosó’!”

Ellie tries her best to repeat after you, stuttering over her pronunciation.

“that was absolutely!—horrendous.” Dina fakes enthusiasm before completely deadpanning her expression.

“i would love to hear Jesse try!” Ellie claims, leaning into her own seated side of the booth.

“kay!—deli—si-o-so!”

you shared an awkward glance to Dina as Dina lips flatline completely, biting back a laugh as Ellies eyes meet yours before glancing at Dina. the table was silent as Jesse questioned what he said wrong, not holding in your laughter as you all laugh collectively.

“just stick to english, babe.” Dina consoles teasingly as you and Ellie try to catch your breath.

“i definitely did not sound like that!” Ellie laughs out, trying to catch her breath.

“easy Jesse!” you follow along, laughing in sync.

“the spanish lessons are for Ellie—not me.” Jesse immediately raised his hands up in the air as defense before going back to dig into the omelette he ordered.

now it was Ellie’s turn, she picked up the loaded crossiant sandwhich carefully. you shot her a small smile, moving your hair out the way slightly as you leaned in to take a bite out of her breakfast sandwich. you savored the buttery bread from the crossiant as the mix of cheese, hash brown, and mapled sausage mix into your mouth.

“ta—tè gusta?” she stumbled but managed to say it right. if your stomach wasn’t fluttering like a swarm of butterflies before, it definitely was now.

“mm!, muy rico.” you smile as you hear Dina clap, putting her fork down onto her plate of pancakes.

“okay spanish 101!, call Joel!—tell him Carne Asada at my house!” she exaggerates.

“girl, i know you kidding, but now, i want carne asada.” you tutt out before sipping on your coffee.

you all enjoyed your dinners together, laughing, conversating, and more importantly, bonding all the same.

“so, we hittin’ the store after this?” Jesse chimes with a stupid smile.

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the trip to the grocery store was definitely….something.

Ellie and Jesse were like toddlers while you and Dina spent time hunting for the ingredients throughout the store.

“how about you get the drinks and let the—ahem, adults handle this.” Dina clears her throw, pointing back and forth between you and her.

“uh what—” Ellie began to protest.

“you—i need you to get limes, cilantro, and white onion.” you listed as you pointed to Ellie, whom immediately stopped talking.

“yes ma’am.” was all she said, before pulling you in for a kiss which you instinctively went to place your hand behind her neck gently, momentarily before pulling away.

“my beautiful man in the entire universe of ugly rotting men—who also happens to be of legal age!—get your sexy girlfriend liquor?” Dina remarks sweetly and dramatically.

“wow!, coarsing me into buying alcohol for you guys—that’s illegal.”

“look at you! knowing the law and shit—get us a bottle of Pátron Silver.” Dina quirked, giving him a kiss on the lips.

you all split up, each to their own getting what they needed. you picked out rice, brown beans, queso fresco, pepper/jalapeno, avocados, and of course, the steak. Dina grabbing any other ingredients needed.

once everyone was set, meeting at the store cart that Ellie strolled around.

“awe look at you guys! wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Dina playfully snarks out as you guys walk towards self-checkout. you watched the way Jesse playfully smacked Dina’s butt, kissing her forehead while at it. then, feeling a small arm sneak around the back of your waist.

“look at that straight shit.” she playfully icks out, getting a small giggle out of you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

once you entered Dina’s—it was go-time.

the sound of the kitchen rustling with a bunch of noise coming from the hustling around from yourself, along with Dina. you got to marinating the steaks as Jesse got the mini grill that was outside of Dina’s balcony.

music tunes through Dinas personal handheld speaker as you got your freshly washed hands dirty. you cut multiple limes, then bringing out the salt and pepper.

the entire time, every time you grabbed a piece of raw steak; squeezing the lime juice onto the meat before sprinkling bit by bit salt & pepper, Ellie watched.

she couldn’t help not too stare.

she admired the concentration you carried with the biggest smile on your face—especially impressed by the way you squeezed the half-piece lime with one hand completely.

“what’s meat in spanish?” Ellie asks innocently, slightly hovering closer to you.

your smile widen, your teeth glimmer as you passed the seasoned steak onto an empty glass platter for Dina to take outside.

“say carne, baby.” you keep an eye on her as you spoke.

“carne—oh!, its in the name.”Ellie slightly confuses.

you lean in to give her a small peck “ay cariño, you are so cute.”

“you did say spanish 101 today—what did you call me?”

“special nickname—just for you!” you shot her a playful wink. you could still see unsurity in her face. “nothing bad, baby—it’s a term of endearment.” you finish off, placing the second marinated steak onto the glass plate.

“venga para acá, let me show you how.” you signal with your messy hand. Ellie made her way around from the counter she was leaning on, walking uo slightly behind you before standing next to you.

“come over here, empieza a poner sal y pimienta—start to put salt and pepper.” you repeated after yourself. you obeserved carefully the way she began to pronounce each foreign word.

“slow baby—you got it, pi-me-yen—tà.” you her at the end as she didn’t sound too bad for her first try. Ellie tries once again as she lathers the meat in the salt and pepper, flipping the meat over to do the same on the other side.

you got closer, leaning your head on her shoulder as your hands went to grab the salt as she rubbed in the lime juice. you pour a bit of salt onto your hand as you get ready to sprinkle it. Ellie’s hand made moved away slightly before going back to the spots you sprinkle salt to rub it in; the both of your arms ontop of another, almost entangled as you both began to season together.

the intimacy was different, yes it was romantic; definitely not sexual—this entire moment shared together gave you both a sensibility of home. the sweet tension divert into domestic parallels as Ellie’s back met your chest like magnets, feeling the way your breath feathered against the back of her neck in gentle rhythm.

it wasn’t just the physical touch that made the both of your bodies feel like electricity firing through each other’s veins.

the senses you both individually carried feeling like it invisibly oozed into each other, interlocking your connected hearts.

Ellie melted into you, her head moving the tiniest bit. you took it as a signal to dip your head intonthe crevess of her neck and peppering kisses as both of your hands smeared among the meat. you hward the way a sweet little symph of a hum was enough to have your heart jumping out your chest.

you gave a Ellie’s hands a bit of space, letting her transfer the piece of meat with the rest of the seasoned pieces on the glass plate. Ellie turned her head to the side, the side of her face, partly almost facing you completely; that was till she turned her head completely, moving a hand away in the process to not keep her encaged.

you just poured into each other’s eyes, neither of you wanted to leave the aroma of this feeling.

Ellie leaned in, eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips. you both kept your hands lowered as they were covered in the seasoning and lime juice; nothing stopping her from the way her lips locked into yours intoxicatingly.

“lets take these out to them, mama” she pulls away with a goofy smile, hinting at the meat.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the sun had set and the late evening arrived, watching the way the orange sky smiled back at the four of you as you all created a night to remember.

the sound of Bachatá Xtremè’s ‘Te Extraño’ playing through as you and Dina took slight dance-like steps between each shot, chasing it by sucking on a piece of lime.

you both started off chill at first—making yourselves a little drink to sip on as you finished cooking and smashing the beans, dina finishing up the rice, and making the guacamole—the more spanish bangers came on, your amount drinks had gotten hefty.

Jesse was on the Grill, occasionally being pulled away from a very drunk dina to dance with her—kudos to Jesse though, he kept a pretty good pace.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: AGORA HILLS

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

right now, you were sat ontop of Ellies lap, puffing on the blunt she rolled. she had one arm cradling the back of you as the other passed the smoke between the both of you.

Ellie spent the day admiring the way you ran around all day, now that you were here; with her sat and seated. it was your turn to admire the strong gorgeous woman.

although the sun had set, the slight glow from the toned out blue sky perfectly sharpened her freckles specking across her soft face, the way her t-shirt hugged her, and especially the small muscle in her biceps that flex each time she took a drag.

“whatcha lookin’ at, mama?” she caught you, giving you a small smile as she passed you the Dutch.

“sorry—really wanted you to pass the blunt already.” your sarcasm lacing your sweet tone as you gave her fake look of dissatisfaction.

“oh! really!?” Ellie gawks, playing into fake offense.

you gave her a big smile you couldn’t falter. you brought the cigarillo up to your lips, inhaling and then exhaling before speaking, “i never said thank you.” you began.

“thank you for what?” she questions, the hand she used to hold the blunt to caress your face.

“for standing up for me, for being there, for literally—being here. you could’ve ran off and you didn’t.” your voice was sincere, nothing more.

“i would do it all again in a heartbeat, mama.”

your entire heart felt like a floodgate opening, allowing the sweetest taste of serotonin rush through.

“there isn’t a single thing i would do differently—change—now, i would give everything to not meet that jack-ass waiter.” Ellie says, her eyes not leaving yours as her words went straight into your heart.

you chuckle out “fuck him—that guy’s a friend of my ex. i didn’t even know he worked there.” you explained, reminiscing a bit.

Ellie was quick to stop any moment longer. “fuck them both, they mad to see you doing good.” she devotes, pulling you into her to kiss your forehead. the reassurance made your stomach flutter up.

“and with someone greater, too—in all ways.” you whisper out, leaning your head down slightly so your foreheads met.

you were in love with Ellie Williams, a feeling that you had never felt so strong.

“i wanna tell everyone you’re mine—show you off, make them all fuckin’ mad.”

before Elle could say anything else, you hear a drunk Dina cheer Listos para comer! (we ready to eat!) .

you all helped bring the food inside, setting the dinner table as chatter wisped between the four of you. the dinner table was scattered with all the delicious plates you all bonded over cooking.

it was like a cute family dining scene from a movie.

you all began to dig in, Dina looking over at you with a look that you knew exactly to return as you both silently waited at the table; your eyes moving from meeting Dina’s to Ellie and Jesse, watching them chew. you both waited with big grins as they both let slight moan and gasp from their savorful meals.

you and dina cant help the fit of laughter you break into which only confuse the both of them.

“don’t know what’s funny—you’re not gonna be laughing when im on one knee though.” Ellie was dead serious.

“ouh! i better be a bridesmaid!” Dina exclaims excitedly.

needless to say, you were beaming a deep rose through your cheeks, bringing your Soda Jarritos to try to cover your face.

the dinner bled into the night, completely being filled with overjoyed laughter and deep conversations—still, slightly making fun of their spanish pronunciations.

Ellie was sat right next to you.

“pass me a tortilla, amor.” you let it out without a thought, you caught yourself, slightly stumbling as you tried to excuse the little epithet that left your lips.

you saw the way a wide shiteating smile tugged her lips as she reached her arm aceoss the table to pass you the traditional tortilla warmer for you to make tacos out of the asada.

you thought Ellie pretended to not hear atleast, as you began to bite into your taco; Ellie leaned into your ear.

“we’re gonna make sure everybody knows you’re mine—as i’ve been yours since that night, mama.”

dolls-taglist: ̗̀➛ @snowy-vee @elliesleftflap @tphmnv @starrkissezz @we-loveebony @lavenderhazelsworld @marsworlddd @kissthedewdrops @elliewilliamsgirl3 @graviewaviee @gato-chino @bunnyrose01 @bready101 @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @cosmopolitanaut @yumimak @elliewilliamgfooc @evangelinexo @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @luzthenarnian

a/n: i am indeed the mexican woman ellie is talking about that used to date joel 💖💓💞 matter of fact he in my bed rn !!! also i didnt add lyrics because i feel like the scene was too short ( might add them later still thinking)

in all seriousness though, thank you so much for the patience cus its basically EXAMS MONTH for my ass 😭 yall are amazing and @openupforme for keeping me going😽

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fandom #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us ellie #ellie williams the last of us #ellie tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #GATÚ🌺

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (13)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: My hand was the one you reached for

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Stockholm Syndrome, infidelity, manipulative Aegon, discussion of character death. Smut, fingering, using murder as dirty talk, hand job, public sex.

Aemma's coin has finally flipped, but where will it land? Greatness or madness?

Tag list: @callsignwidow

You aren't sure how or when it happened, but it's as though something inside you snapped, slowly but surely shifted your love and loyalty from your mother to Aegon. All your plans, all the playing pretend melted away until it became your reality. When did that happen? When did you become so pathetic? Was it the abject horror of seeing Aemond loving another woman in Harrenhal? Or were you always this weak?

"You seem deep in thought." Aegon looks down at you, head tilted slightly so that the rubies of the Conqueror's crown glitter in the sunlight.

"I suppose," you respond dully.

He hums in annoyance before looking away abruptly. You aren't sure why he insists on walking with you through the gardens, but it was the one reprieve he allowed after your escape. You're kept under a smothering watch at all times now except for when Aegon fetches you for your daily walk. He never lets you go with guards. It has to be him, and you just don't understand it.

Annoyance rises in you, bitter and dark. "I don't understand!"

"What don't you understand?"

Lots of things. You don't understand lots of things, but you don't want to discuss the complicated relationship between the two of you, so you say, "You told Aemond to seduce the witch. Why? Why would you do that?"

Aegon tosses his head back and laughs. "Is that what the bastard told you? And he says I'm the degenerate one."

"Aegon, this isn't the time for jokes. I want the truth." You turn to him fully and he's struck suddenly by the fire in your eyes. It's been so long since he's seen it he thought you'd given up your spark completely.

But of course not.

Of course your fire is still there because his is still there.

Aegon still burns every second of every day for you. The two of you are the last flickering twin flames of Old Valeyria, meant to merge together and raze down everything standing in its way. He loves you, desires you, needs you more than Aemond possibly could.

"You want the truth, my little dragon?" He steps closer to you, following as you move away from him. "I'll give you the truth, but I want you to remember that it was I to do so... not Aemond."

You suck in a deep breath, overwhelmed by Aegon's presence crowding you against a tree. Rough bark bites into your exposed back and arms. Suddenly, the gauzy dress you chose this morning doesn't feel like it covers enough.

"Aemond would never lie to me," you eventually say.

"I see. Is that why he blamed me? All I told him was to keep the witch loyal to us. I don't give a single fuck about her happiness or comfort... but Aemond does, doesn't he?" Aegon traces his thumb across your bottom lip before continuing.

"Let me guess: he told you not to worry and that she could never compare. I've told Helaena the same about my whores. I suppose, in a round about way, it's the truth. She's kinder than them, more of a proper lady. She deserves better."

You want to strike out at Aegon, your palm itches for it, but you stay still. He pets you so gently, running his hands over your body in a comforting way that brings tears to your eyes. You want to ask him why he doesn't give her better if she deserves it, but you already know the answer.

You.

Aegon has spent years pining over you, spiraling when you were taken away like some sort of toy. He's a spoiled brat. You love him anyway... but you love Aemond as well.

"Is love enough?" Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

"Enough for what?"

"Anything." For Aemond to be loyal, but you don't say it out loud.

Aegon knows what you want to say, but won't say. He knows you better than anyone. Maybe even better than you know yourself. "Love is enough for us if you'll allow it."

Your lips curl up in a wry smile. "You're being awfully sweet today, Your Majesty."

"Maybe it's because I see where my brother is failing and I decided I need to take this chance."

"Failing on your orders."

"Not my orders. I never told him to fuck her, but we both know that's what he's doing." Aegon presses his lips to yours, hot and persistent. "Don't you want revenge, little dragon?"

Yes.

Yes, you do want revenge.

You want blood and revenge and for this foreign anger inside you to end.

Aegon's lips trail from your lips to the column of your neck, teeth sinking into your skin every so often while his hands grip your waist. He grinds into you and you feel the delicious drag of his hard cock between your thighs. "I have plenty of information from the witch. So much that her life means nothing to me now. You could kill her if you wanted."

Kill her?

"H-have you ever killed anyone?" The idea makes you nervous, but it's hard to concentrate on those nerves when Aegon's hands are slowly bunching your dress around your waist.

"Yes. Would you like to hear about it?" He nips at your ear, chuckling darkly when you yelp. Two of his fingers circle your clit before dipping into your cunt and he moans when he finds you absolutely soaking wet.

You nod, letting out a little whimper. "Yes... please..."

"Mmm, good girl." Aegon pumps his fingers in and out of you at a punishing pace. "It's better than any drunken high, any fuck... it's... ah, fuck, yes..."

Aegon's head falls to your shoulder when your hand slips inside his trousers to stroke his length. You wrap a leg around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes against your skin. "Such a good little whore for me. D'you like this? Like me fucking you in public?"

You do. You really, really do.

"Say it," he demands, wrapping a hand around your throat. "Say how much you like it."

"Aegon... please... I love it."

"Say you love me."

You nod. "I love you!"

Aegon's grin is almost terrifying when he says, "I want to watch you kill Alys Rivers."

The pleasure that had been building in the pit of your stomach crests and washes over the rest of you, leaving you to spasm around Aegon's thick fingers. He kisses you all over as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling into your hand.

"Good girl," Aegon whispers into your hair. "Fuck, you're so good for me. We need to remind Aemond how good you are, yeah?"

That's all you really want, you think to yourself. You just want to be good for the people who love you. That's all you ever wanted.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you

[sweetbans29]

Power Couple - CC (4/30)

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Life during Caitlin and your rookie season - Based on THIS request

Warnings: None that I can think of :) just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 4.8k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I don't know much about soccer but I tried my best! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think 🤍

The first time Caitlin knew you were something special was in high school. The two of you faced off on the soccer field during a game. This was when Caitlin still played soccer and was figuring out if she wanted to pursue soccer in college or basketball. She ended up going with the latter and was thankful for it because you were a force to be reckoned with.

You had nearly a perfect game. Your team came out on top but no thanks to a certain player on the other team. When the game was over and your team was going around saying 'good game' to the other team you pulled no.23 in.

"You almost gave me a run for my money, keep it up babe," you say as you bring her into a half hug so you can whisper it in her ear. You give her hip a little pinch before shaking hands with her coaches.

Caitlin is left speechless. She goes back into the locker room - star-struck and a little confused. She has never really been interested in anyone and has never really had the time to date but you had her wanting more. That night, she did some IG stalking and found you. She spent the whole evening looking through your page and all your tags. She went through all your teammate's photos and even searched you as a tag. She fell asleep contemplating if she was going to follow you. It seemed silly that she was nervous to press a button.

She dreamt of you that night. Had a dream that the two of you played D1 soccer in college together and were the 'it' couple of school (not like that is really a thing in college but a girl can dream). When she woke up in the morning she looked at her phone to see what time it was. She shot up when she saw the notification that you had followed her. She couldn't believe a single notification had her feeling like a little school girl but there she was.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw that Caitlin had requested to follow you back.

From there - she was the one to message you first, talking about how amazing you had played and how impressed she was. You were hardcore flattered. The two of you didn't talk much after but you both followed each other in your respective sports. You learned that Caitlin dropped soccer for basketball which you thought was a shame - she could have easily gone D1. But watching her on the court was something else. Her IQ on the court was something you had never seen before.

It was during your senior year of high school that the two of you started going to watch each other play. At least when you both had the time, which wasn't super frequent. It was merely a taste of what the two of you were about to experience in college. Both of you had signed to become Hawkeyees. Caitlin for basketball and you for soccer.

It was your freshman year of college that the two of you started hanging out. You had become pretty close friends that always acted like more. Your friendship took a turn one night when you were taking care of a very sick Caitlin.

"I don't want soup," she pouts and turns away from the spoonful of soup you are trying to feed her.

"Caitlin you need to eat," you say as you grab her shoulder to hold her down from rolling over. She tries to fight you but is extremely weak due to the flu overtaking her body. She whines when she can't turn away from you and lays there in defeat. She looks like she is on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," you say as you rub her arm. "Shhh it's okay love." Your hand comes up to her face and caresses it. She looks up at you with such tired eyes. "I know you don't want to but you haven't eaten in days and it's scaring me."

Her eyes stare into yours as she takes your hand holding the spoon and guides it to her mouth. She takes a little bite that looks painful to swallow but she does. You kiss her forehead and continue to feed her the broth.

Later that night you fell asleep next to her bed, you took the floor to not get sick yourself. Caitlin woke up and saw you sleeping on the floor. She turned to face you and looked down, she loved watching you sleep. You always looked so peaceful which is so different than watching you on the field. She reached down and brushed a piece of hair from your face and whispered 'I love you'. Little did she know that her touch had stirred you awake and you heard her little confession.

It was shortly after Caitlin got better that you two started dating. You went public on your three-month anniversary, which was also when you signed for the USWNT. It had been a dream of yours since you were a little girl.

You stopped playing for Iowa once you joined the women’s team but that didn’t stop you from going to support your girl for her games whenever you could. Caitlin did the same whenever you had games close by and the two of you sort of became known supporters at each other's games. It was kind of cute how people would get excited to see Caitlin coming to your games and vice versa. Someone had even started an amateur fan account for the two of you, nothing ever came from it but it would pop up on your feed every now and again. It was mostly posts of you wearing Caitlin's jerseys at her games and Caitlin wearing your jerseys to support your games.

There was one game you went to support Caitlin and had her fans come up and ask for pictures with you. It was cute how her fans were so supportive of the two of you. But with support, also comes hate.

As the years go on, your relationship with Caitlin grows. By the time the two of you are entering your senior year of college, you have pretty much been through it all. The ups and downs have been very high and very low but you wouldn't have changed any of it. It was because of those times that you know as you begin your careers, you and Caitlin will make it.

It is during your last year that you get drafted as the first pick to the Chicago Red Stars. Caitlin and your family are there for the draft and are over the moon for you to be playing closer to home. When your name is announced - you hug your family first then make your way to Caitlin. She engulfs you in a hug and kisses the top of your head. You look up and give her a little kiss before heading up to shake the announcer's hand and head off to a few interviews.

Being drafted before the school year ended meant that you would have to finish your senior year online. It wasn't your favorite but you were determined to get your degree, even though everyone was saying you no longer needed it. It was something you felt like you needed to accomplish.

This also meant that you would be moving to Chicago to start training. At no point was there ever any tension in your relationship with Catilin when it came to moving. The two of you had a conversation early on about what your life goals were which included playing pro for your respective sports. The two of you talked through what that would look like and how you would prioritize one another while pursuing each of your dreams. The way you two were on the same page only solidified your relationship even more.

As Caitlin and the Hawkeyes were heading into March Madness - you weren't able to make it to the Sweet Sixteen or the Elite Eight. That didn't stop you from watching your girl dominate on the court - breaking records and doing what she does best (shooting logo threes).

You were bummed that you couldn't be there when she broke the NCAA scoring record but one of your teammates got a video of you watching your girlfriend make history and posted it. It gained a lot of traction and was the first time they featured your relationship on any sports network.

When you found out Caitlin was heading back to the final four - you made it a priority to head to Clevland to watch. You were able to pull some strings and get courtside seats to watch your girl front row. You watched them play UConn and were stressed the entire game. This was some of the best defense you have seen a team put up against Cait. They came to fight.

Throughout the game you had people come up to you and ask for autographs and photos. It was neat to see it was a variety of both Caitlin's fans who knew you as her girlfriend and also your fans who have watched you since you started with the USNWT.

When the Hawkeyes pulled through and took the win - everyone flooded the court, making it almost impossible to find Caitlin. It was actually a handful of people in the crowd who helped you locate her. When you saw her, you ran straight up to her and wrapped your legs and arms around her. You knew what this game stood for - it was redemption from the previous year.

"THAT WAS AMAZING BABE!" You yelled right in her ear.

She laughs and spins you around, "I am so glad you were able to make it." She inhales you and is reminded of how much she misses you. "Do you have to leave?" She asks, only half-heartedly wanting the answer.

"Well knowing you were going to win this game and Coach not needing me back until Monday, I am staying to the final," you say hoping down from your girl but keeping your arms around her neck.

Caitlin brings you back into her and just holds you. As thankful as she is that her team just won, she is even more grateful that she gets to spend some time with you. Cait and the team only had a light practice the day in between games. The rest of the day was to be used as a rest day with the exception of a team dinner. You spent the day in Caitlin’s hotel room. Most of the time the two of you spent catching up on life and how each of you has been doing. She talked about her feelings about how she contemplated staying at Iowa for a fifth year versus going to the WNBA draft. The two of you had talked a little over the phone about it but there was something about having you there that really opened her up about all the thoughts she truly had. You sat there and listened to her talk - it was one of your favorite things to do. You could sit with her forever and be content.

She loved talking to you because you never pushed her in one direction or another, but would rather genuinely listen to her. And when she would pause to gather her thoughts, you would ask her questions to help her figure out what she wants to do and not what the media expects of her. You knew the last thing that she needed was someone else telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing.

When it was your turn to unpack - you talked about the shift from playing on the women's national team to a city team. It was a shift but one that was really nice. It felt like you were finally able to settle down somewhere and you were excited for her to feel the same and hopefully a little closer to yourself than she was at now. You missed being around her.

You continued to talk about how her team has been super welcoming and that you all instantly fit into the team. That was something Caitlin knew you were worried about signing with the Chicago Red Stars. She hasn't been out to one of your games yet but is hoping to before she goes into training.

That night you joined Caitlin at the team dinner. All the girls were happy to see you. It was great getting to spend some time with everyone - with Cait being on the team, you had become really close to some of her friends. Kate and Gabby were especially happy to see you.

You went to watch the championship game the next day - sitting right behind the team's bench. You watched your girl put up 18 points in the first quarter - breaking another record in her last collegiate game.

As the game progressed you saw how difficult it was for the Hawkeyes to put up points against the best defensive team in the league. But they put up a fight.

In the final quarter, you could see the hope in the team's eyes slip away as the momentum SC was gaining kept going. When there were only a few minutes left, you saw the shift in Caitlin's demeanor and knew that she was beginning to accept defeat.

At the one-minute mark, Coach Bluder pulled her starting seniors and allowed some of the other girls take the court. As Caitlin was walking off, she alongside Kate and Gabby went down the line of coaches and gave them each a hug. When she sat down on the bench, you couldn't see her face but knew she was struggling to keep it together. If there was anyone else in this stadium that knew how much she wanted this win, it was you.

It didn't come as a surprise when Caitlin sat right in front of you. You leaned down to her and placed your hand on her arm. No words needed, just a sign to show her that you were there. Her hand comes up and rests on yours, giving a little squeeze.

She spent that night in your arms. You tried to get her out of her head but weren't doing a great job of it. All Caitlin really wanted was to be held by you and that is exactly what you did.

You flew back to Chicago that Monday - feeling sad you were leaving Caitlin but know you left her in good hands with Kate and Gabby. Before leaving - Caitlin booked a flight to come out to watch you play in Chicago. You thought it would be a good distraction as well as nice to have her back in the stands.

When it was game day, you took the field for warm-ups, occasionally looking towards the stands to see where your girlfriend was watching from. It wasn't an easy task but you looked in all the typical places she would watch from when you were playing for the USWNT. When you couldn't find her in the crowd, you got worried that she wasn't able to make it. When you got back to the bench, you did a quick scan when one of the other girls came up to you and pointed to one of the boxes. Looking over - you saw Caitlin in the middle box talking with your team manager.

A smile makes its way to your face as you see them talking and laughing. Your team manager was kind of a hard-ass which would have you worried if it was anyone other than Caitlin. But knowing your girl, she could start a conversation with anyone.

Throughout the game, you would glance up to the box. You were met with the sight of either Caitlin watching intently or her talking with whoever else was there. You noticed one of the times she was talking to one of your teammate's wives. It was such a comfort to have her there.

At the end of the game, your team pulled through and took the dub against the Kansas City Current. As the team was celebrating you felt someone come up from behind you and spin you around. Knowing immediately who it was, when you were put down - you turned and jumped into Cailtin's arms.

"Proud of you babe," she says as she embraces you yet again.

"I am glad you were able to come," you say and grab her hand to introduce her to a few of your teammates.

The next day you see an article out about Caitlin coming to your game. It wasn't the first but it was the first that you saw circulate social media to this extent. It caught like wildfire and the next thing to know your following on IG went from 20k to 50k.

You didn't think much of it considering you don't follow the media really at all but thought it was cute and shot it over to Caitlin. She thought it was funny and criticized the photo they chose of the two of you.

The next thing you know, you are in New York getting ready for the WNBA draft. You are sharing a room with Caitlin and just sit in awe as your girl is getting dressed. She is the first to sport Prada for the WNBA and she is looking amazing.

Once she is dressed, the two of you head down. There are a few photos snapped of Caitlin on the way down, you follow closely behind her, trying to not get in the frame. That proves hard to do as she refuses to let go of your hand. At one point she looks back and gives your hand a little kiss before heading into the elevator to head down to the orange carpet.

The night went by in a blur. Caitlin is the first pick and is headed to the Indiana Fever. It was what both of you were prepared for and have honestly started planning for as well. You two started talking about how it would be so nice to only be an hour's plane ride away from each other (a 3-hour drive if needed).

Her crew celebrates by going out for some drinks and food. It was a fun night out with the girls not only celebrating Caitlin but also Kate who was drafted into the Aces. The two of you end the night back in the hotel.

The next morning, you started to get notifications and messages about the media calling you and Caitlin the new 'Power Couple' of the sports world. Before you could open anything on your phone, Caitlin was showing you hers. You looked at the post that Ovvertimewbb posted. It was the photo of Caitlin kissing your hand right before heading into the elevator with a caption on how you two are the couple to watch in and out of the game.

"So they are calling us the couple to watch," you say as you hand the phone back to Cait.

"Looks like it," she says with a laugh. "I have no idea what that means."

"Honestly, neither do I but we will find out," you say as you lean over to give her a kiss.

Throughout both of your rookie seasons, the media watches you both closely. You because you have been on fire, consistently playing record-breaking games and carrying your team to victory, and Caitlin because she is changing the game.

Now that the two of you are closer, going to support each other has become much easier. Once Caitlin started in Indiana, she was at almost every one of your games - almost always supporting you from your manager's booth. You always joke with her that your manager loves her more than they do you. Every now and again she would be standing fieldside, out of the way of course. The media tore up any time she was standing on the field or seen talking with your manager. It would always be something about how Caitlin is such a great girlfriend coming out to support you. Or it would be how your GM has found a new person to watch their team with, having a picture attached with your GM and Caitlin laughing about something.

The posts and articles went both ways. You went to support Caitlin whenever you could which then put you in the spotlight. It was unexpected to both of you how much the media ate up your support for each other.

It was when you were watching an interview that Caitlin was in that it began to click.

"Caitlin - you are projected to be rookie of the year, how do you feel about that?" The interviewer asks.

"I think it's pretty awesome," she responds with a smile. "Just like the work I have put in during my college career to get here, I have put in the work this season to be up for rookie of the year."

"Well, it is quite impressive, if I must say," the interviewer compliments your girlfriend. "But what is also impressive is that your girlfriend is also up for rookie of the year."

Caitlin just smiles and nods. She could say a lot (she will rarely brag about herself but when it came to you, she could talk up a storm) but just sits and nods. To everyone watching - it was a proud girlfriend moment.

"Seeing you go and support each other at games, getting the posts of your post-game meals with one another, and all the talk about how each of your teammates has become great friends with you and her, you have become the ultimate power couple in the sports world." Caitlin doesn't blush easily but she’s blushing now. "How has becoming this power couple affected your relationship?"

"Well it is kind of funny - neither Y/n nor I have really seen much of what has been going on in the media with any of it," Caitlin says.

It was true - the two of you tried your best to stay out of looking into the media like that. You knew it wouldn't affect your relationship in the slightest but never really cared for what other people said about the two of you. Outside of supporting each other during games the two of you led a pretty private relationship.

"Well let me show you a slim snippet of what the fans are saying," the interviewer says as they start flashing photos of you on the screen. "There are endless fan edits of the two of you while you are watching each other games. What really got me was finding a fan account that has been following the two of you since your college years."

Pictures of the two of you from their account started flying across the screen. Photos going back in time - it was a neat way to reminisce on the past and how far you have come.

At the end of the slideshow is a picture from when you played in your final home game for your high school - senior night. It was a picture of you and two other girls heading to the captain's meeting in the middle of the field. In the photo, it is you and your co-captains looking down but if you looked over to the crowd - there is Caitlin, front row with some of her friends there to watch you play.

Caitlin remembers the moment as if it was yesterday. She debated going to that game for weeks before it happened. She didn't tell you she was coming to your senior night but brought you flowers and she gave them to you afterward. That was the night that you had Caitlin falling even harder than before - getting so excited when you saw her. Causing her heart to leap out of its chest when you dropped all of your stuff to pick her up and spin he around. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her cheeks turned a deep pink - the first time you made her blush.

"Yep, that's me," she says with a laugh, turning even more red than before. "You could say we were fans of each other long before we started dating.'

"Well, that is the cutest thing!" The interviewer says with such excitement. "We are all rooting for the two of you and can't wait to watch you both as you progress in your careers."

Later that night, you call Cait. She picks up the phone immediately.

"I know, I know," she says, already knowing what you are going to say.

"You are too cute when you blush," you say with a little laugh.

"Ugh stop babe," she says laughing as well. "Did you hear when they called us the ultimate power couple?"

"I did," you say full-on laughing now. "It is crazy to see how many people are invested in our relationship."

You hear her hum in agreement, but she doesn't say anything.

"Hey babe, is everything okay?" You ask, worried that this is all starting to get to her. You know Caitlin doesn't follow the media like that but you wouldn't blame her if she fell down the rabbit hole after that interview. I mean, you did.

It wasn't intentional but after you watch the interview, curiosity got the best of you and you started looking at some accounts. Most of it was sweet - pictures and comments of how the world is cheering you on but with being in the spotlight more, there were also more people who used the platform to tear you down. It really didn't affect either of you - at least when people talked about yourselves. But you knew when people start talking bad about you on her posts, she gets caught up in her head about how hateful the world can be.

It takes her a minute but after what feels like a lifetime, she responds.

"You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing," she starts, causing your heart to swell. She begins to stumble on her words. "I - just thank you." She says. "Thank you for being so amazing not only to me but to the world. I can't wait until you begin your off-season and move here with me so we can finally be together. Then when you go back, and I am off, I will come and live with you and everything will be right in the world and we will get a dog and start planning our wedding and both be living out our dreams."

She pauses and you take a sharp inhale. The two of you haven't really talked about marriage - if you were being honest, you had no idea that was even on Caitlin's radar. It was on yours but you never wanted to rush her.

"What was that last part?" You ask slowly.

"Us living out our dreams?" She asks, knowing it is not what you are talking about.

"No right before that..." you say as it feels like time has stopped. The only other time you have felt this with her is the first game you played against her. She had been one of the only other players who could keep up to you and you let her know that after. Whispering the compliment in her ear and watching her react to your touch had stopped time for you.

"Start planning our wedding...?" Caitlin says extremely slowly. You are hooked on every single word she says as she repeats that.

"Caitlin Clark, are you asking me to marry you?" You say jokingly but also dripping with genuine interest.

"You are just going to have to wait to find out," she says and you can hear the smirk that has grown on her face.

Little did you know that Caitlin already had the ring. She knew she was going to marry you after you picked her up and spun her around on your senior night. It only solidified when the two of you started dating in college and were there to support one another during your sporting events but also just with life in general. Having you by her side wasn't an option. You pushed her to be better than she could have ever imagined. You brought her out of her head when no one else could. You let her be herself unapologetically and she couldn't imagine a more perfect person.

"Well just know, if you get down on one knee at either of our award ceremonies, I will say no." You say, trying to play it cool when your heart is beating faster than it does on the field.

Caitlin laughs and you join in, longing for the days when you can have these conversations face to face.

AN: I hope this does the request justice. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark masterlist #caitlin clark concepts #iowa hawkeyes #wnba

[useless-catalanfacts]

hi! I'm english-catalan and have lived most my life in England but am currently in living in Catalunya. I was just wondering based on your post about catalans who wrote national anthems, all of them seemed to have [cognom] i [cognom] names. I've seen some people whose names are written like that and others who aren't, and it struck me as an odd coincidence that all five of those were written in that format as I don't see it terribly often so it got me wondering- is there a difference between [cognom] i [cognom] and [1r cognom 2n cognom] names, or are they just two different ways of writing the same thing? sorry if this is a weird/stupid question 😭

It's not a stupid question, don't worry!

Nowadays they're two ways of naming. When a child is born, the parents can inscribe them in the civil registre as [name] [1st surname] [2nd surname] or as [name] [1st surname] i [2nd surname]. Choosing one or the other is simply a matter of preference, but the i option used to be more common back in the day and nowadays sounds old-fashioned and maybe even a bit pretentious.

Originally, Catalans only used 1 surname, because in Europe women weren't considered independent adult human beings. For many centuries and up to the 19th century, women didn't have a social class, a surname, nor lineage, because they were considered a possession of a man: their husband, if they didn't have a husband then of their father, and if they didn't have neither husband nor father of their brother. So, for example, the wife of a noble wasn't considered a noble herself, she was technically only the wife of a noble. This happened all over Europe, and in fact many countries in Europe and European ex-colonies nowadays still only pass down the father's and husband's surnames, even forcing women to lose their own surname when they get married and having to get their husband's surname, as if they were still his property. This used to be the case in Catalan, Spanish, Portuguese, and the other European languages that nowadays have both father's and mother's surnames.

Having two surnames originated in the Castilian nobility in the 16th century, with the purpose of stacking more titles and having names that sound different from the common people. To show that they're two separate titles and not just one surname with two names they separated them with the "y" ("and"). Catalan nobles started having a closer connection and marrying with Spanish nobles in the 16th and 17th centuries and adopted the "y" costume. It didn't really catch on to most of the people outside of the upper class until a law made 2 surnames mandatory in the 19th century, though many people were already imitating the nobles in the 18th century. With time, Spanish language lost the tradition of adding "y" between the surnames, but it survived in Catalan. In the early 1900s, when the standard spelling of Catalan was made, people who wanted to be named in Catalan changed the "y" ("and" in Spanish) to "i" ("and" in Catalan).

With time, some people even came to proudly use the "i" between their surnames as a way to show that they're Catalan and they're named in Catalan, not only that it just so happened that they were named Catalan names but that they actively choose it and use it. There's also some people who say that adding the "and" between surnames makes them more equal, because it puts them both at the same importance (for example, in the statement "I buy orange and honey", oranges and honey are in an equal position; "I buy orange honey", the central word is honey and orange is just added to it), but that's more of an a posteriori perception or folk etymology kind of situation imo.

But since the early 20th century to nowadays, the "i" has become less and less popular and nowadays it's unusual to find, at least among young people.

#ask #anonymous

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I re-started t recently after a break of like, two years, and now I have an insatiable desire for meat AND lust for Gabriel (not a joke)

poor gabe is going to get eaten alive by these anons.

or maybe that’s what he wants 😳

#I should not have said that #whenever I say something I hear the anons start to stir #one day I will be struck down for saying things #let me refrain from speaking further #ask #asks #non voice post

[robertsbarbie]

wait i forgot to tell yall the absolute highlight of my day, and probably year, and probably existence because it was genuinely the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me

#i had to act like i was not crying in class because it shook me to my core #this one professor of mine great guy probably the only reason i have not given up on the graphic design program #starts class discussing our projects for the semester #and says both projects are brand new never done before #and one of them was a music project #where we get to choose the artist and create an entire spread of everything for them #lp/ digital campaign/ website/ spotify mockups the whole fucking nine yards #and this is a man WHO DID NOT KNOW WHAT MUSIC PACKAGING WAS OR ENTAILED UNTIL #I ONE DAY WENT ON A RANT ABOUT IT IN OUR FIRST CLASS TOGETHER #and who has asked me multiple times about it since and my amateur concert photos #and i’ve given him shit for cutting a different music project in the past #and this motherfucker looked at me (i’m losing my fucking mind at this point btw like full on #everyone in the class was looking at me after the announcement) #and this motherfucker looks at me ‘you got your music project buddy don’t let me down’ #and it just kinda struck me that this clown of a man A) listens to his students and proposes projects he thinks they’ll be passionate about #but B) that he listened to me and i’ve just i’ve never had that things like this are always dismissed #and this motherfucker listened and formulated a whole ass project to help me #like that’s so fucking insane to me #eris: text

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 25

"All Night" by the Brothers Osborne

#song of the day #you see if you simply never go to sleep then it is never the next day and you never think to do your song of this day #until you finish the next day's workday and think 'perhaps maychance there might be the teensiest possibility of....a nap??' #and then instead you are struck with the awareness that you have no concept of time that isn't tied to your schedule #and you check your personal laptop and see a great gift of cheese from your friends who love you!!!! #and you go down to check the mail still cradling your laptop and your brothers are playing minecraft #and they hear your delight as you open the cheese box and discover the cheeses within and then they hear you begin to open the cheeses #and one of them goes all sharpvoiced if you are going to stay awake! and eat salty cheeses! you had better also be drinking something! #and then you turn on the kettle and say yesssss of course I was always planning on also drinking things. I know about hydration #and then you cradle your personal laptop and your personal cheeses and you curl up by your little personal teapot #and you watch your brothers play minecraft and you know contentment and you uh apparently make your yesterday's song post #but entirely in the second person! #weird of you to do that

[apparitionism]

Appreciation

A week of appreciation. I wasn’t going to do this, but then I foolishly had An Idea. (Not a good idea.) So I’ll be writing a Bering and Wells... thing. Rather, a series of things. Seven things. The overarching title is, naturally, “Appreciation,” but each piece of the whole will be a thing unto itself. Mostly.

So, okay, here goes with the day one prompt (Dancing), which led me to what I found to be an illuminating quote (from Christgau, below).

Architecture

Robert Christgau, “Writing About Music Is Writing First.” Popular Music 24 (2005): 415–21.

  One of the many foolish things about the fools who compare writing about music to dancing about architecture is that dancing usually is about architecture. When bodies move in relation to a designed space, be it stage or ballroom or living room or gymnasium or agora or Congo Square, they comment on that space whether they mean to or not. The comment is usually oblique, absorbed below normal levels of ratiocination. And it can make itself felt that way, subliminally inflecting the meanings of dwellings, edifices, and meeting places. But if we want to understand it more fully, we’d best reduce it to words.

  And why is that? .... [A]s we’ve been told ad infinitum from Saussure on down, nothing can be reduced to words, not even words. Writing about writing is also like dancing about architecture.

****

Myka knows she’s not the world’s most poetically inclined person, but she understands the figurative, if clichéd, sense in which any relationship is a dance. Some people probably enjoy the literal action as part of that figurative whole, but while Myka as a rule likes to keep her definitions tight—literal—in this case she’s been relieved that the applicability of “dance” to her romance with Helena has been thus far been figurative. She’s been committed, in fact, to ensuring that the “figurative only” condition continues to obtain.

Until.

(Being in, so deeply and inescapably in, a relationship with Helena has run Myka headlong into an inordinately high number of situations that represent such an “until.”)

“Do you remember—” Helena begins one night, as they’re preparing for bed, and Myka cuts her off with a brief “yes.” Given the architecture of her brain, she could hardly help but do so.

Helena, undeterred, continues, “—that hallucinatory retrieval, so long ago, in which the artifact compelled us to dance together?”

“No,” Myka revises. “Aggressively, no.” She puts the aggression into her very posture: her body, she hopes, is refusal.

Helena immediately kicks her poorly set, insufficient legs out from under her: “Liar.”

The kicking: figurative, but effective. Myka has no deniability. “It was terrible,” she says, reexperiencing the frustration, albeit on a smaller scale, both at wanting Helena so desperately and yet seeing no path to having her... and then at being forced to dance. With her. Against her... Myka manages to step back—just barely; it’s a teeter—from entering the memory in its fullness.

“Thus proving my last statement true. Why was it terrible?”

“Because I hate dancing,” Myka says.

“That doesn’t seem to be a lie.” Helena cocks her head—to the right, her “thinking” side. “But does this hate apply in every circumstance?”

“Yes,” Myka says, no hesitation or revision required.

“That too has the ring of truth.” Another head-cock, now (not unexpectedly) left, with an additional raise of chin. That’s the teasing-but-with-an-undercurrent movement. “Yet would it apply even to dancing with me in another circumstance? Given that I’m the putative object of your affection?”

Myka considers keeping her mouth shut but concludes it would most likely be taken the wrong way, given the undercurrent to the tease. Hoping to thread the needle correctly, she says a vaguely interrogative, and hopefully discussion-ending, “No?”

“Perhaps I’ll summon Steve,” Helena says, and it’s a threat—well, “threat”—that identifies the needle as very much not threaded.

If anyone else had ventured such an idea, Myka would have sparked her usual worry about their use of Steve, but he, however strangely, doesn’t seem to mind playing lie detector for Helena. There’s an elusive sweetness to their burgeoning agents-in-the-field partnership; Myka sees it, but she can’t, no matter how she tries, locate its underlying concept.

“Look,” she says, trying to imbue her voice with placation, “even if I wanted to dance with you, which I’m sorry but I don’t, because I hate dancing, I can’t get away from my resentment about having been forced into it by an artifact. I also resent that it was to house music.” She shudders as her brain now rebelliously recreates the experience: earsplitting noise underlain with disturbing vibration, all so loud and so physically overtaking that she could barely formulate any thought at all, despite her desperate need to formulate thought, because her body had found itself forced to press against Helena’s in ways that were infinitely more disturbing and created so much more noise than the music and she could find no way to think herself out.

Helena taps a finger against Myka’s left collarbone, a precise one-two-three-four clearly intended to call Myka back to the present. She says, deftly, “It was at the very least rhythmic. Aggressively.” The echo is playful: a different tack now, jollying. “But tell me,” she continues, still playing, but with focus, “why do you hate dancing?”

Finally, an easy one. “Because I’m terrible at it.”

“What does ‘terrible’ mean in this context?” Less whimsy now: she’s working her way toward something, but Myka can’t tell (and isn’t sure she wants to know) what. “Are you referring to some objective skill level? Some need for instruction? I would think that if one’s partner is willing and able to appreciate one’s movement, one could abandon such—”

“One—and when I say ‘one’ I mean ‘me’—is always observing oneself. Myself. Judging. There’s no such thing as real abandon.”

That gets her a little not-quite-derisive snort. “Of course there is.”

Myka doesn’t—genuinely doesn’t—believe that. Certainly she can move in response to emotion: a twirl to express a settling of satisfaction, a flail of arms to accompany a burst of belonging... but still always with that observing other inside, outside, seeing, evaluating.

That Helena can more fully inhabit a moment is really no surprise. That Helena has a hard time imagining how others’ interiority may differ from hers isn’t much of a surprise either.

Myka sighs and, for the sake of peace, tempers her absolutism with, “Not in public. That’s a bridge too far.”

Helena takes a moment, one involving no tilting of head. It renders her inscrutable. Then she says, “I’m not overly familiar with the American legal system.”

Are they through with dancing as a topic? Myka holds out a (probably vain) hope that they are, so she hurries to offer, “I’m no expert, but I was pre-law for a while, so if you want to know something in particular, maybe I...”

She trails off, for Helena’s head is moving left again as she says, with full disingenuity, “Are you aware of a law restricting dancing to public spaces?”

Myka is both disappointed (that dancing is still the topic) and cautiously pleased (that Helena is inflecting it this way, rather than insisting that Myka revise her feelings about public terpsichory).

Helena goes on, “And yet I doubt such a law exists. Consider a quite private space: for example, a bedroom. In theory, but also, in specific, for here in a bedroom we stand. Certainly it’s a space in which bodies have been known to move.” She says this without a salacious cast, which gifts Myka a quiet space in which to think. About this space. About how Helena moves in it. About how she herself moves in response.

After a time, Helena ventures, “My intent in mentioning that small slice of the past wasn’t to upset you.”

Myka believes her—is happy to believe her. “That’s not my intent either,” she says. “When I respond poorly. To anything... but particularly to a slice.”

“The past has many pitfalls,” Helena says, but not with gloom, as is sometimes the case when the past, as a concept, is at issue.

“It does.” A universal truth, regardless of how it’s said.

Helena shrugs, and she smiles now (her winner’s smile) as she says, “We could dance them away.”

Comedian, Myka thinks, and she laughs. “I honestly don’t think we could. Unless we’re in a musical and I’m not aware of it.”

“Would you be aware of it if we were in a musical?”

“That’s a good question,” Myka says, hoping—obviously against hope, but she goes with it—that they can shift to epistemological inquiry, because Helena does find musicals fascinating... but not all musicals: only the ones in which the numbers simply happen as part of the diegesis. “Like operetta, but more alchemical,” she’s said, and Myka has been glad of her own knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan, as well as her familiarity with the musicals Helena is newly encountering, so as to understand how Helena is thinking her way to an appreciation, how she is enjoying that thinking.

“If that is a good question, then so is this one, I hope.” Helena holds her head still again, offering no preview of whatever utterance will follow. “Might we dance, such that the pitfalls of the past fall away? For the duration of the dance?”

In those words Myka hears the heft of what Helena tries, always, to keep at bay. “You don’t have to work so hard,” she says, meaning, as far as she knows what she means, that Helena could have just asked for what she needed. For Myka does give in when Helena asks, because another of Myka’s commitments, a far more constitutive one, is to trying—trying—to spare Helena the need to work so hard.

A slight right turn of head accompanies Helena’s response: “But what if I’d like to?” She adds a wisp of smile. “Work hard to change your mind,” she clarifies, though she doesn’t need to, and Myka knows she knows it.

Perhaps in response to all that knowledge, Helena extends her arms. “There’s no music,” she says. “You can very easily pretend it isn’t dancing at all.”

The concession is a jewel: a gift Myka is grateful to know for what it is.

She’s grateful because of another thing she knows: she gets things wrong. So, so often, she takes up situations, thinking to bend them into sense, but errs, twisting them wrong... but she can appreciate this. She can appreciate that Helena needs to know that she has worked hard to arrange for those pitfalls to fall away. For the duration of what may or may not be a dance.

Their arms are around each other. This is what is necessary. Regardless of any movement that might literally be defined as dancing, that is the definitional, essential, architecture.

END

Note:

I hope it’s apparent that I appreciate Bering and Wells as themselves—that is, as characters brought into being by Joanne and Jaime. But I appreciate also that “Bering and Wells” (for want of something better to call this televised catalyst and all it encompasses) has (have?) introduced me to invaluable, treasured friends; produced mind-boggling experiences; and all along motivated (forced?) me to do a lot of thinking, including rethinking my own writing, as well as the claiming of authorship, in contexts that extend well beyond the fanfictional.

I’m not going to enumerate the rules—or “rules”—I’ve set for myself here. Just know that there are rules. Writing is hard: sometimes making it an intellectual puzzle greases the wheels; sometimes it makes the wheels throw off sparks of grinding difficulty. This puzzle has worked both ways for me.

I find Bering and Wells to be, quite literally, something else, and I honestly don’t remember or understand how it (they) caught me. I don’t. Since the beginning, I’ve been playing catch-up with my nervous system—“Wait, how did this happen? What actually did happen?”—and the answer is, “Doesn’t matter, just keep writing it down.” This changed my life. And I am trying, always trying, to write like it did. (Having said that, most of these pieces aren’t as coherent/smooth as I’d like. To my shame. Seven is a lot, but that’s no excuse.)

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Appreciation #Architecture #that ‘writing about music is like dancing about architecture’ thing has always struck me as cloyingly facile #but I never sat down to think out why #and I think Christgau gets reasonably close to one reason #anyway I've dealt a lot with dancing #and the body and all #mostly in Ballet AU #and I really have nothing new or interesting to say about the physical practice #outside of that context #beringandwellsappreciationweek #day 1

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kid fic

[sinsofsummers]

sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pervy!joel #innocent!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #tlou smut #tlou fic #tlou joel fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #jackson!joel miller #joel miller x innocent!f!reader #fem!reader #joel x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n

[jpitha]

Vocal Mimicry and Ear Worms

Every time the drink machine finished, it played a little song.

It was pretty simple, less than 10 notes, but it was the same song, every time.

It wasn't even that it played the same song every time. It wasn't even that everyone on the ship - except the humans - got a drink from the machine.

The song was catchy.

Peg started it. She just found her self whistling the "drink finished" song one day. "beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep." She couldn't help it.

Then, Kelly picked it up. The song worked its way into her head too. She'd be working at her station and suddenly she'd be struck by an intense need to sing the song.

After about three cycles, every single human on the ship was singing it. Normally, this would be chalked up by the rest of the crew as "just another strange Human thing" but the problem was that it was the 'drink finished' song. Everyone onboard was conditioned to want to go get their drink when the song was done.

The humans could mimic is perfectly.

"beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep."

Captain Flowing River Rapid's feathers fluffed in irritation. Two people on the Command Deck got three quarters of the way out of their seats before they realized what they were doing and sat back down, sheepish. "Desmond! What have I said about mimicing the drink finished melody?"

Desmond ducked his head at the reproach. "Sorry Captain River, I couldn't help it. It's just so catchy."

Captain River clacked his beak. "It wouldn't be so bad if not for the fact that you can all mimic the sound so well."

Desmond turned and looked at the Captain. "What? We are? We're singing it, but it doesn't sound exactly like the drink machine."

The Captain pointed at Desmond accusingly. "Don't deny it! You're all singing the song at all times of the cycle! You know that everyone thinks a drink is ready when you do it. You sound exactly like the machine!"

One of the Sefigans who got partially up from their station nods quickly, their antenna bobbing. "Captain River is correct, Des. You all really sound a lot like the drink machine. How are you doing it?"

Desmond shrugged. "I mean, we heard the song, and it gets like, stuck in our heads. Singing it feels like one way to get it out. Plus, it's fun to sing Kel. Fun to make sounds."

Kel's wing covers clack. "Can you mimic other things?"

"I don't know Kel, I don't really think of myself as a mimic. There are others who can do it much better than me. Some humans made a whole career out of it."

"That sounds like a thing I human would do, yes. But what about your Des? Let's see...." Kel looks down at their station. "What about this?"

Kes runs a test for the collision alarm. It's a warbling rising and falling tone."

Des thinks for a second and sings - for him - a pretty close approximation.

Captain River gasps and leans back in his chair. "How do you do that?"

Desmond wails. "It wasn't even that good! I just heard the tones and repeated them."

Kelly entered the Command Deck just then. She was carrying a pad and her overalls looked stained. "Captain River, I've just come to report tha-"

"Kelly! Mimic the collision alarm"

"What? Um.." Kelly makes the same noise."

Now, everyone on the Command Desk gasps. Kelly is taken aback and looks at Desmond. "What's going on Des?"

Desmond sighs. "They say we're all mimics. It started with the drink machine."

"Oh that. I still can't get it out of my head! 'beep beepita beep beep beep beepita beeeeeeep.'"

Kes starts to rise from his seat again and catches himself, and sits back down swearing.

#humans are deathworlders #writing #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras

[miguelsslvt]

ex nerd! scientist! miguel o'hara x slutty! reader

part two here!

word count: 745

TW: smut, nsfw, d/s themes, mentions of pet play.

A/N: THIS IS INSPIRED BY @nymphomatique SO PLS CHECK THEIR ONE OUT!! their drabble rlly inspired me so i thought maybe i could add a little twist;) welcome to the club!

back in your college days, you were.. promiscuous, some would say. well, you were the biggest slut on campus. if your body count didn't say it all, then the rumours sure did.

you took chemistry, maths, physics and biology. you wanted to be a physics scientist, partially because of the thought of there being lots and lots of different universes, but mostly because the pay was brilliant.

miguel o'hara was your 'pet' back in your college days, per-say.

you used him for your homework, and in exchange you would fuck him, give him head, handjobs, you name it. you took miguel's virginity, and every bit of innocence he had left. he was totally smitten by you. i mean, a pretty, popular girl giving him attention no one ever did? sign him up.

miguel was the biggest loser you knew back then. he wasn't the most muscly, and he had those ridiculous black square glasses, and his outfits were shocking. he had a slight lisp due to his late braces, and his hair was far too long and he clearly struggled to maintain it. to keep it blunt, he wasn't cool at all. he was a loser, a simp, and a goody two-shoes. perfect as your little pet.

it wasn't until after graduation did you stop your little encounters. after leaving college, you blocked his number and left campus on the same day. you thought you'd never have to see that nerdy freak again. well, that's what they all say, right?

that was until you finally got a job at ALCHEMAX. you were a 'technological support scientist', which sounded smart but really all you got to do was watch all the better scientists do tests. you didn't mind, it did more then just pay your bills. hell, with the checks you're bringing in you could probably buy a new car in a few months!

you thought things were all sunshine and rainbows, until the thunder walked in. it's funny though, you didn't realise thunder looked like 6'9 tall and 310 pound of pure muscle and attractiveness. his braces were gone, his hair more clean and cut a little shorter, and his glasses just resting on top of his head, but you knew exactly who he was.

'm-miguel o'hara?!' you said, shocked. he turned around swiftly, looking down at you, before his eyes widened. 'y/n l/n?' he said, surprised. you both had become blushing messes. well, his glow up sure came after only 3 years.

'you.. work here?' you asked, absolutely awe-struck. 'i.. do. i am a technological scientist here. you work here too? why haven't i ever seen you around before?' he asked, intriuged. 'i-it's my first day here. you.. matured.' you said, clearly checking him out.

the man smirked. he actually smirked. the man who would whimper, begging to just get off on your shoe, smirked at you like he was in control. 'and you look as gorgeous as 3 years ago.'

your heart stopped. who was this man? this muscular, defined, confident, completely self aware man.. this wasn't miguel. there was no way.

'you..you're very different, miguel.' you said, a blushing mess. he chuckled, putting some latex gloves on. fuck, even his hands were attractive. 'well alot happens to a guy.' he says smoothly, his voice deeper. god this was going to be hard.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

that very night, you were spread out on the bed, and you didn't recognise the man above you.

3 years ago, a scrawny desperate nerdy little boy was on his knees, as if you were a goddess. and now, that very man was on top of you, kissing your neck so skilfully, as if he's done this for years. his thrusts had rhythm, as he grinded along your g spot with ease, you let out a gasp and a breathy moan, as he shushed you.

'sh, bonita.. you've changed. where's that dominatrix you were back in college days? why are you so.. obedient?~' he whispered in your ear, as you moaned again.

'i-i think i-it's y-you that changed, m-miguel..' you breathily said in response, as he chuckled. 'oh no, sweetheart, i'm still the same loser that was begging on his knees for you. just now, i've learnt how to please you as well as me.' he said in response, his hands moving down from your breasts to your hips, his cock deep inside you as he grinded his hips as you felt every inch.

god, is this heaven?

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #smut #across the spiderverse #fem reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #2099 #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.

Word Count: 1,574

Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.

Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.

And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.

Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.

So why would anyone dare go against him?

He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.

Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.

"My darling.." his voice rasps.

Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.

You are oddly subdued tonight.

His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.

"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.

Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.

When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.

"Speak."

His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.

You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."

Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.

"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.

"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"

"'He'?" Feyd echoes.

"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."

Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.

This is different, he can tell.

"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.

You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."

In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.

"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.

You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."

His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.

You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."

Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.

Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."

He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.

"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."

He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."

"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”

Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.

"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”

"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.

You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.

"Say it."

"I'm yours alone, Feyd."

He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.

"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.

He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.

"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."

Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.

"Kiss her shoe."

The man's eyes flicker to yours.

"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.

Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.

With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.

You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.

“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.

“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”

The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.

He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.

“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”

He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.

Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.

“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”

Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”

The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.

You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.

Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.

He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.

You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.

“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.

“Thank you, Feyd.”

He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.

When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.

“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”

“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”

He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.

In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.

You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.

And you know it.

You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.

He adores you.

And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.

And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.

He’d kill anyone who dared try.

~~~

[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]

#dune #dune part 2 #feyd x you #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #reader insert #imagine #dune part ii #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic #feyd rautha Harkonnen x reader #one shot #possessive feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Husband Effect

Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff

A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!

__________

“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”

“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”

“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.

“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”

“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.

“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.

“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”

“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.

“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”

“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”

“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”

“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.

“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”

“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.

“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”

“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.

“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“Please hurry Sam.”

One Week Later

“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”

“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”

“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.

“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”

“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”

“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 

“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”

“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.

“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.

“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”

“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”

“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 

“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”

“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”

“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”

“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”

“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.

“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.

“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”

“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 

“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.

“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”

“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”

“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”

“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”

“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”

“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“

“I do feel loved,” said Dean.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.

“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”

“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.

“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”

“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.

“Cool with it?” you asked.

“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”

“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.

“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”

One Year Later

“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”

“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”

“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.

“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.

“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”

“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”

“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”

“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.

“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”

“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.

“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.

“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”

“You got something special planned?” you asked.

“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”

“You read my mind.”

#dean x reader #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #one shot #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean fanfiction #dean reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean winchester x #winchester #dean x #dean winchester x reader #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester supernatural

[mournings-stars]

Maybe the wrapping wings around heddies but the reader wraps their wings around the characters?

okay i rly like this but what about with characters that don’t have wings?? (lmk if yall want characters w wings cus this is kinda silly funny haha)

charlie

she loves when your wings wrap around her — every time she hugs you, she’s waiting for that extra warmth and when it comes she just hugs you even tighter

she wouldn’t ask you to do it, but if you put a wing around her in public she’s trying not to get too excited

cuddling is a must for wings. you’re sitting on the couch? she wants a nice feathery blanket. lying in bed? same thing. watching a scary movie? she’s using your wings as a shield to duck under anytime theres a jump scare

if you asked her if she’d like a wing, she’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her

“im starting to wonder if you’re just dating me for my wings,” you’d joke and she’d laugh and say, “they’re definitely a plus” while running her finger over the top of one (this girl likes to tease i know it)

she loves when you cuddle up to her and wrap your wings around her, like she just melts

she does not let anyone play with them. ever. if niffty tried to go scurrying around them, she’s taking her away faster than she can blink

your wings are hers as much as they are yours, but that’s a silent rule between you two that she doesn’t plan on voicing

she just gives “let me be your wings” from thumbelina vibes like you would have a duet like that

alastor

now if you ever need to gossip, he’s clearing his throat and you’re shielding your conversation with your wings while you two laugh and whisper

he does not want anyone touching him but if you put a wing around him he knows you guys have some important business to talk about

sometimes you throw up your wing, whisper, and he has to stop himself from laughing when you quickly put your wing down, alastor batting it with his microphone as you laughed

now if he’s ever hurt, that’s when your wings go around him, making sure no one sees so he can escape to saftey

you’d always come to his rescue even if he got mad at you for it, wings wrapping around him as you struck his attacker faster than he could summon his shadows (and he definitely gets pissed about it but hey what are … friends …. for!)

wings are for shit talking and the occasional life saver when it comes to al

angel dust

he loves the security of your wings

after a long day, you’d just lie in his room, wings wrapped around him as he held you close — he’d either fall asleep or want to sit in silence like that, but either way you were happy to help

sometimes you’d just sit at the bar, wing around him as you talked and laughed together

whenever you went out together, your wings were a strict barrier that no one dared to cross. you put a wing in front of angel when some guy approaches him? he and every other demon are backing off for the rest of the night. you’re walking down the street? wing around him and no one is approaching you

he definitely asks you to do it (in his own very special way) and he likes to tease you when you’re around other people

but you both know he treasures the safety your wings give him

pentious

my boy pentious 100% thinks you’ve turned against him the first time you drape your wings over him — you could’ve literally been sleeping and he’d accuse you of trying to smother him

“i was sleeping!” “your subconscious mind plans to kill me, too!”

he warms up to it though because the next time it happens you’re fast asleep and theres no attempt to block his airways, or whatever he thought you’d do, so he snuggles into the warmth

being a snake (i love snakes im gonna b a lil nerdy about this one) pen likes to burrow. especially at night. he’d start to curl up under the warmth of your wings and rest there until you eventually moved

some days you’d wake up and he’d be completely hidden beneath your wings. if you lift one, he’d very quickly tug it back (definitely how he found out about sensitive wings)

he felt very bad :(

cherri

wings are for parties!

they give you the best dance numbers — dramatic reveal, awesome poses, super dope flying routine…!

then they’re for comedowns because once you’re home from the club shit hits the fan and you’re wrapping your wings around her so she can even try to sleep

but then the morning comes and you brush it off cus it’s time to blow shit up!

definitely using your wings as a shield though — they’re probably dyed pink and red by now, with all the times you’ve had to cover the two of you from explosives

but she finds it super hot so…

velvette

she likes to fuck with you

1000% uses them as her personal armor — you’re basically a body guard

she’ll wrap them around herself while looking in the mirror, modeling your wings like a feather coat

“my wings are not going in your collection,” you’d have to tell her, still pulling her closer with them as you met her eyes in the mirror

“yeah, guess you’re right. can’t have anyone else getting a hold of these, can we?”

she loves being wrapped in them while she sleeps — she loves you sleeping next her, cause then she can lay them however she wants

it’s always best when you’re wings fold in and bring her closer though

definitely been used for a private moment in the office

she says they’re your best asset

vox

now this man is, under no circumstances, letting you wrap your wings around him

in public? absolutely not…

in private? well…. no! totally not!

at least not until you’re asleep and he’s situating himself beneath them. it’s not his fault a feather blanket helps him fall asleep

you’ve definitely waited until he fell asleep, draped you wings over him, and watched him relax into them

he’s not slick

like at all

not even in public

he’ll touch them and the minute one even wraps around him, his screen is buffering

speaking of in public… just wait til you’re at a party. he’s drunk and all over you, touching your wings, handling them like their his own, you have to use them to shield the two of you when he gets too handsy, and he loves it; pushing your buttons until your wings are around him and being more than satisfied by that

niffty

girl is crazy

she cleans them, climbs on them, inspects them (almost rips the fuck out of your feathers)

there’s no way you can wrap that girl up, she’s too quick

but she would love petting them and thats why shes here

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin velvette #vox x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #velvette headcanons #velvette x reader #vox headcanons #hazbin headcanons #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie x reader #niffty #i love angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #cherri bomb #cherri bomb x reader #sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #charlie magne #hazbin hotel charlie #angel dust #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #cherri hazbin hotel

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: hells greatest dad—various artists

↳ notes: this turned out way longer than expected. reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• What you did with your spare time outside the hotel had never been a problem

• Everyone blew off steam in different ways. Husk gambled is days away at dinghy bars, Vaggie practiced sparing, and Sir Pentious dreamed up designs for his retired war machines. The important thing was that everyone knew better than to ask the other about it

• So your friendship with Lucifer never come up. At least, not until Charlie decided to invite her dad over one day

• You were well aware of the strange relationship you had with the king of hell. He was all powerful ,and technically your ruler, sure, but it was hard to view him that way after you caught him babying a small army of rubber ducks

• It had been such a long time since you’d first met him, honestly you were still surprised you’d remembered it

• Back when you still worked as a part time package deliverer for the UPS equivalent of hell, you’d been tasked with handing off a rather heavy, and rather odd shaped box. The label didn’t give an address, rather a small drawing of an apple with a snake curled around it

• It took you a while, and way too many u-turns, to arrive at a pair of tall metal gates

• An uncertain push of a button had been delivered to a nearby buzzer, and you briefly wondered if you had been sent on a dead end errand. Your boss liked to do that; said it kept his employees on their toes. You just thought that he enjoyed seeing the pissed off looks of returnees

• Nothing longer than a minute passed before you were answered with an overjoyed voice, sounding rushed and getting father away from the mic as he proclaimed ‘I’ll be right down Terrance!!’

• It was only when Lucifer himself had opened the gates to allow you in, that his face fell from an excited grin into one of confusion

• “Oh. You’re not my normal guy.” He frowned, looking up at you slightly. “Are you sure you have my package.”

• You simply showed him the address label’s drawing, and he nodded

• “Yeah that’s it alright.” A little bit of the enthusiasm he had shown at the sight of his delivery reappeared before you. It didn’t take long after that before he remembered that you were both still standing outside the towering stature of his house, and quickly invited you inside so you could help him move the package where he wanted it

• “So! Is Terrance sick or something? I could have sworn it was just yesterday that he was where you are now.  Or a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Alright it’s been a while, but can you blame me. Do you know who I’m talking about? Long horns, red splotches, and a weird amount of hands. He always had the funniest jokes to tell though— “

• The first impression of him you got was weird. For the ruler of hell at least. But as time went on, and you kept delivering packages to his house with each passing month, he just struck you as lonely. His house, while big, was always empty. You would go as far as to say that you were the only steady interaction he had. Even if you were technically required to visit him

• Eventually, you quit your job. It had been a long time coming, and you were looking forward to a different take on life away from packing peanuts and scotch tape. Yet, for some reason, you didn’t stop showing up at Lucifers place. And he didn’t stop letting you in

• “You know—“ The devil approached you one hot afternoon in his work room. It was actually quite cold outside, but the fire breathing duck in his hands had heated up the room something fierce upon demonstration. “If you ever need someplace to stay, my daughter has a passion project that she wont stop talking about. It’s pretty sparse in souls, and I’m sure she’d let you stay there as long as you went along with her plan that she has!”

• You tilted your head with a small hum that day, choosing not to mention the far away look in Lucifers eyes as he talked about his daughter

• “Sounds better than where I’m currently living.” You shrugged, handing him a spare bolt off of the floor when it rolled off his work desk. “Where is the place?”

• So you’d shown up on the Hazbin Hotel’s doorstep, then still known as the Happy Hotel, with a bag or two in had and asking for a room

• You hadn’t told Charlie that Lucifer had mentioned it to you. You didn’t want her to feel like you were only there because he dad had named dropped it, but you guessed that she had her suspicions. You didn’t seem very taken with her title as princess of hell after all

• You were there nearly as long as Angel Dust; the likes of which showed up in the room next to yours a week after the move

• That means you were present for the embarrassing news interview, and in turn, the introduction of Alastor as a new patron

• He had been annoyed by you at first. Unlike Charlie’s slight nervousness at his appearance, or Vaggie’s outright aggression, you practically ignored his spectacular entrance, save for a few quick comments

• That had bugged Alastor. You’d hardly reacted when he’d shown just a sliver of his powers. Your lackluster once over as he pulled the darling Nifty from a fireplace had given him nothing to go on. Nothing!

• “Now what’s your role here, my friend!” The Radio Demon practically sang to you on that same afternoon. He waltzed over to your position in a corner, and his smile thinned slightly as you barely spared a glance at him. You found yourself much more enthralled with the sight of Husk fending off Angel’s advances over at the bar

• “I’m a tenant.” You mumbled, looking right through him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed down at you in an unreadable emotion that day

• He took to annoying you for the remainder of his stay following his debut. With every day, he increased his pestering, and you continued to remain the same

• Neither of you made a breakthrough with the other for quite a while. Months passed, and he found you looking as disinterested as ever with his display of powers. At this point he was sure you were purposely giving him nothing just to see his smile crack at the edges. And he was getting frustrated, for a lack of better words

• It wasn’t until you’d wandered into his recording studio by mistake that something changed

• Alastor felt a disturbance in the air the moment you stepped foot in his little alcove. Territorial demons such as himself could always tell when somebody was trespassing on their land, especially when having as much power as he did, and you were no exception to this rule

• He materialized behind you almost instantly. His limbs were already beginning to crack and stretch in size, a glowing smile casting wild shadows all throughout the room as he searched for what was sure to be your cowering form as you dropped whatever item you were attempting to steal

• Instead, he found you kneeling to the side of his polished desk, blinking up at him as your hands sat frozen in the motion of flipping through a record basket. His record basket

• “And what, pray tell—” Alastor’s distorted voice sounded like an screeching echo. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the hotel could hear it from downstairs “—are you doing here my dear?”

• You didn’t say anything for a moment. He watched as your eyes flickered to this symbols floating around him, then back down to his face

• “I was looking for some good music. Sorry to intrude” You eventually pull out of your weird staring match with him. Dusting the seat of your pants off, you rise to walk past him and towards the door

• Alastor’s mouth opens to say something, but stops when you pause in the doorframe

• “Nice antlers by the way.” You shrug. He doesn’t have to look up to know your talking about the honey structures protruding from his forehead. They really only come out when he starts to take on his true demonic form, and never before has he had someone compliment them

• Before he can get a better read on you, you’re gone

• Turns out, you weren’t exactly unimpressed with him. Just wary in your own way. It was a slight hit to the overlords ego that he hadn’t been able to pick up on that so quick, but he’d never admit it. Instead he took to your new attitude with rigorous mischief 

• Music and murder had been the thing to bridge the gap between the two of you. When Alastor discovered you were particularly fascinated by his time period, he laughed heartily

• “Why my dear, you should have told me you had such good taste!” He wrapped a tight arm around your shoulders. “What is it you wish to know about the darling 1920’s?”

• “Did you really feed your victims to alligators?”

• “Hah! That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” He said while flicking your nose. You just hummed with a scrunch of your eyebrows and wriggled out of his grip. Alastor laughed at that

• You wouldn’t classify the two of you as friends necessarily, but Husk did mention one day that the fact he didn’t kill you that day in his recording studio stood for something

• “He’s murdered demons for less.” The grumpy cat told you. You chose not to respond

• Everything came to a head the day Lucifer showed up at the request of his daughter

• He didn’t notice you right away, instead doing a little dance with Razzle and Dazzle as the rest of the hotel watched on confused. Angel tossed you a look and you just shrugged

• Lucifer eventually spotted you standing by the scrappy welcome table. With the same exuberance that you'd seen time and time again before, he hugged you almost immediately

• “Good to see you again too, Luce. Heard you were coming over.” You exhaled after he set you down. You chose to ignore Alastor as he stepped out of his shadows and stood behind you ominously. You could almost feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head

• “Ah so this is his majesty! You’re a bit shorter than I expected.” Alastor’s voice was a bit more grating than you recalled. His grip on his cane tightened as you raised your eyebrow at him

• “Uh, excuse me. Exactly who are you? Lucifer gave the overlord a once over, looking very bored as he did so

• An eye twitch

• “Why the Radio Demon of course! Manager to this very fine establishment, and a—!” 

• “Nope. Never heard of you. Sorry.” Lucifer cut Alastor off and smiled tensely from next to you, not sounding sorry at all

• It became apparent very quickly that the two of them didn’t mix. If a competitive musical number didn’t convince you of that, the way the both of them wouldn’t let go of your arms sure did. By the end point of Lucifer’s visit, you were sure a bruise or two had formed on your forearms

• “You know you should really come visit me more!” Lucifer adjusted his hat as he spoke, sending you a sharp toothed smile as he prepared to step out the door. “I’m sure you get tired of this hotel sometimes. Or at least the people—“

• “I’m sure you’ll find they are perfectly happy with their arrangement!” Alastor didn’t let Lucifer finish his thought. His shadows were getting restless at this point, stretching in the three of yours direction as if attempting to push Lucifer out. At this point Charlie and Vaggie had stopped paying attention to the weird power play between the two of them, instead talking about their upcoming trip to heaven together, so you were all alone. Save for two of your friends that were acting really weird

• "You know maybe the two of you shouldn't hang out."

• "Agreed."

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