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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 2 months

Text

Sea Sickness

Luke Hughes x fem!reader (established relationship, but still new)

Idea: Reader gets nauseous from being on the boat at the Hughes’s Lake House and snuggles up to Luke.

Requested: Nope.

Author’s Note: I know I’m bouncing around who I’m writing for, but I’m on a NHL spree right now. I also get nauseated if I'm on a boat or in the ocean for too long. Fun Fact: I wrote the beginning part of this on a note card while working by myself in the OR today. We had a really long case where I just had to check up on people during the middle of it (hence why I wrote this on a card because I don’t like going on my phone when I’m in the OR. It's unprofessional). I don’t know any of these people personally. The closest I’ve gotten to the team (that wasn’t just playing in the band at the games or when they were walking past us down the 2023 red carpet in tampa) was a tuba was talking to some of them in his plane row on the ride back from that trip (he ended up being the tuba you see in the senior picture from 2024) and one of the coaches had to share our bus on the way back from the 2023 frozen four game with his wife and two young daughters (I kept trying to get the younger one to smile at me unsuccessfully). Someone from my hotel room also shared the elevator ride up with the entire Fantilli family the night they lost that game in 2023 (I think Adam also won the Hobey Baker award that same night). I’ve also been playing my lego lord of the rings game. Anyway, enjoy this little blurb.

Tagging some of my favorite Hughes/NHL writers, love y’all.

@wineauntie @thedevilrisen @winterbarnesblog @sc0tters

I forgot to mention that this is kinda based on the cute stuff @bedsyandco writes

I'm now sad when I'm uploading this because a friend from college drumline has an incurable brain cancer. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers (he's only 19 or 20).

Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new. If you want to only be tagged when I upload something for a certain character or shows, let me know as well.

Warning: None, just general fluff. Feeling sick on a boat.

Word Count: 488

Being on a boat wasn’t your most favorite thing in the world, mainly because the last time you were on a boat, it got stuck in the middle of the laek and had to be towed back to shore (true story), but when your boyfriend Luke invited you to spend the weekend at the lakehouse with ihs brothers and friends, you weren't going to say no. The weekend had been filled with lots of eating, playing outside, and the boys being competitive at every game they pick up (even the old board game you brought to teach them how to play). Just trying to keep up with them all was exhausting, so that’s how you ended up on the back of the boat enjoying the warm air instead of diving into the water again. The boys had been going back and forth between wakeboarding and chatting on the boat deck. With them supplying the lake with plenty of waves, the constand up and down was starting to make your stomach sick. You scooched over and made yourself comfortable laying your head on Luke’s shoulder. He then opened his arms and wrapped you in his warm embrace so you could crawl on his lap and snuggle closer to his chest.

“You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, just want to stop the constant movement.” It was getting to a point were you just wanted to stop the constant movement. It being really hot out didn’t help either.

“We’ll head to shore soon. Then we can cool off inside.”

Being wrapped up in Luke’s embrace with his fingers gently carding through your hair or down your shoulder leaving goosebumps in their wake and shading you with his fit body definitely helped keep your mind off of your stomach and the boat’s ever shifting movements. Luke wasn’t much of a pda person, but you always encouraged him to show little bits of it at least in front of his family or close friends.

Little did you know, that’s exactly who was eyeing the interaction. Jack, Quinn, Trevor, Cole, and Dylan all had stopped what they were talking about in favor of watching the interaction between you two. Eventhough they were not all related, they felt like proud older brothers seeing Luke be so considerate and affectionate in front of them. Of couse they’re all going to tease him relentlessly later about this, but they were gentlemen in regards to respecting the timing and the moment.

“Just lay down and close your eyes. We’ll be on shore soon.” You snuggled deeper into Luke’s neck keeping your eyes closed and focused on his soft skin, his natural scent, and the way his warm body curled around yours. He even tugged on your legs to pull you fully into his lap as his large frame wrapped around your body fully encasing you in his warmth and comfort.

Nothing better than enjoying the summer with those you love.

#nhl imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #hughes brothers #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl players #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #nj devils #umich hockey #umich imagine #umich x reader

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somerandomdudelmao · 11 months

Note

Okay okay hear me out.

We all know that Donnie was devastated to discover what happened to his brothers. But in light of the most recent update, new meaning has been added to the panels of him watching their deaths' play out.

Look at him here. At first glance, it simply seemed that Donnie was grieving the loss of his brothers. "We lost. They're all gone. My dumb dumb brothers sacrificed themselves. I'm alone."

BUT after today's update, we realize that NOOO he's not just regretting that they're gone, he's BLAMING HIMSELF. Not only is he sad, he feels GUILT.

Looking back, his face clearly says, "I could have stopped it. I could have saved them. I failed. This is my fault."

"If I had been with you, the outcome might have been better." What hurts is that Don is RIGHT. He WAS the keystone of the resistance. Everything does indeed fall apart soon after he's gone (hence the episode name). It's a cruel, ironic twist on Survivor's Guilt-- because in that timeline he didn't survive. He was gone. And he blames himself for being gone.

We often talk about Future Leo's guilt over the apocalypse, but Future Donnie's guilt is not to be taken lightly. It actually makes a LOT of sense for him to blame himself for his family's deaths. We know that all dear Donton has ever wanted is validation for his tech, and his tech is his way of expressing to his family that he loves them. Ergo, all Donnie wants is to make tech to protect his family to Show Them That He Loves Them.

This is probably why he opened up to Raph, all but admitting his guilt over the less-than-perfect security system: it was like saying he and his love failed to protect them for long.

The character analysis deepens~

Here (and throughout all of The Little Things, really) we see him taking steps to make sure his brothers (and the resistance) will be taken care of. Delegating everything, even The Little Things (ah HA) all to ensure that all he does for them (to prove his love, of course) continues to happen.

Even here, when Donnie has been hanging onto life for so long that the Kraang are shocked he's still alive, Donnie wants to help. He could not "sit here and listen to them get killed," because he is Donatello, and he loves his family. Cass, you said it yourself: Violence is his love language. Rushing into battle, decimating the Kraang, saving his family. Because he may be dying, he may be clinging to life by a few threads, but he is Hamato Donatello and he loves his family.

But in the end, that's what he does. In the end, he DOES sit there and watch them get killed. Watches with his very own tech. One. By. One. They. Die. And deep down, Donnie thinks that if he would have been there, he could have found a way to make a generator NOT from Raph's heart. That he could have supported Mikey enough to keep him from disintegrating. That he could have protected Leo in those final, self sacrificial moments.

Donatello blames himself for not being there for his brothers. He blames himself for his tech not being flawless enough. He blames himself for dying on them.

Which is why he won't rest until they're ALL back home.

He is Mr. "I Can Fix This", so of COURSE he's going to fix this.

And afterwards, when his family is SAFE and HOME and TOGETHER he's going to apologize for "letting them die" and he's FINALLY going to get some SENSE knocked into his OWN dumb dumb brain (probably by Dr. Delicate Touch). His brothers love him because he's DONNIE. I cannot WAIT for the moment when they make him realize that they didn't miss his tech, they missed HIM. He's gonna realize just how utterly loved he is and I'm so excited for you, Cass, to show us that moment.

(I apologize; this got out of hand quickly, but the analysis has been bouncing around my head all day and I NEEDED to share it)

OH THIS IS ONE GREAT ANALYSIS RIGHT HERE

#I kinda..want to make a tag for these...#like #hm #cas analysis #yes I'm so unbelievably good at naming

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urprettylittlething · 8 months

Text

Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

•

warnings - Yandere-ish, not so much here, mentions of people dying very briefly at the end, this is pretty tame rn

genre - short drabble headcannon thing

note - Feel free to send in any drabble ideas you have for this universe with Geto and Gojo with CursedKitty! Reader, anything from pretty wholesome to darker sides send them in, pretty please, this is just a little intro thing

I just wanted to share this concept I had in my head the entire day <;/3

- Just imagine CursedKitty! Reader is this petite human looking curse equipped with small fluffy ears and tail.

- Just like Mahito was CursedKitty! Reader is just a baby curse right now, she's currently living in this dingy looking alley, curling up in some ‘comfy’ sheets of cardboard every night, shivering her little tail off, but she's happy.

- And of course no one can see her because she’s a curse, so CursedKitty! Reader is having the time of her life exploring this new world she's learning about dressed in a long cheap shirt she found one time and stole as hers, trying to copy the similar creatures she sees on the daily.

- CursedKitty! Reader’s favorite pastime is finding these small groups of fly curses and playing chase with them.

- They’d run and hide while CursedKitty! Reader peaks over the top of the bench and scares them with a yell, making them run to a new spot while she follows and does the same thing over and over again.

- This is exactly how Geto and Gojo find CursedKitty! Reader, it was after school at jujutsu high and they were walking home down their usual route, making their way past the local playground where they spotted this strange behaving curse. One they had never seen before.

- Of course, Geto and Gojo could feel the cursed energy from a mile away, figuring it was something they’d eventually stumble upon as it didn't feel that harmful to them, and no screaming was being heard so that was also a plus.

- And now the two boys are standing there, dumbfounded, watching CursedKitty! Reader chasing around little fly curses with the dumbest smile on her face, tail swishing back and forth as she entertains herself.

- It didn't take them long to notice the lack of clothing CursedKitty! Reader was wearing, and only slightly longer to notice how she paid them no attention at all. So absorbed with this little game her dumb cursed brain came up with.

- Geto and Gojo looked at each other and were murmuring about who, how and what to do with her. Tilting their heads to the side and giving the other a look and a shrug. Just a cute little cursed kitty, what the hell, might as well entertain themselves.

- Eventually CursedKitty! Reader’s newfound fly friends managed to wriggle away from her through a loose fence panel while she whined in sadness, before turning around and coming face to face with two of those people creatures staring right at her.

- And of course CursedKitty! Reader bounces right up to them all smiles and wide eyed with excitement, getting all close in Gojos face before he brings up a hand to gently rub and push on her head, the small space where infinity exists the only gap.

- Now getting some nice attention CursedKitty! Reader is all purrs and snuggling into Gojos hand, eyes closed in bliss and ears flattened a little to accommodate the affectionate palm.

- Gojo tilts his head as he looks down on CursedKitty! Reader, the smallest tug on his heartstrings after taking in her raggedy appearance and how content and happy she is with a little love.

- The shared look and little smirk Geto and Gojo swap, before they each grab onto one of CursedKitty! Reader’s hands and started tugging her along with them, was knowing.

- They’re looking forward to pampering and smothering her with love, dressing her up and playing with her for their entertainment.

- They’ve spoken about something like this before but never found anyone quite right. Sure, they’ve had some shared ‘lovers’ in the past but those always ended up getting themselves killed somehow.

- Besides, it’s only a little something to take the edge off so why not this cutie, huh? After all, she is just a weak cursed spirit, not much of a fight she can put up against them, right?

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere geto #yandere jujutsu kaisen #gojo saturo #geto suguru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #CursedKitty

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honeyshiddendesire · 1 month

Text

Dirty Alphabet - Eustass

Eustass Kid x Female Reader

*This one I got carried away cause he's my boo lol 🥵❤️‍🔥🫦*

*banner*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you're already in a relationship he will be a big snuggler but don't you dare mention it or he'll deny it. If it's a casual/ one night stand thing he'd probably see if you wanna go get drinks…or just bounce up outta there. Lol

B = Breath Play (do they like it done to them or doing the deed)

Loves choking you and knowing he's so strong he could crush your windpipe buttt he's a kinky man so he loves it if you return the favor when you're riding his cock. Your smaller hands trying to squeeze even just the smallest amount of oxygen makes him grunt and groan out curses.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Big mess maker for sure!! Wants to fill you with cum but also wants to cover you in it too. Smear that shit along with your makeup till you're a big sloppy mess that he can tease. If you swallow so be it but he loves shooting it on that pretty face of yours. Also he cums A LOT! So be prepared!

D = Dirtiest Kink (what they think is their dirtiest kink)

Wants to tag team you with Killer which you expected but the real secret is that he thought of sharing you with Law and Luffy. He doesn't know why but the thought plagues his brain. Maybe it's the fighting they've done together in Wano that drew him to the idea but he'll never admit it to you…maybe he'll tell Killer though.

E = Exhibitionist? (Do they like being watched)

Loves attention!!! Watch him all you want but don't think he'll be shy about it baby. That man will solo masturbate and talk you out of your panties in a second to join him. Also loves watching you as well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything to showcases his strength and his big dick. Full nelson, mating press to keep you pinned down and feel his entire length. Also pronebone so you can't push him off and his big arms can cage you in how he likes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Will crack jokes but always in a teasing way as he's fucking you into the mattress. If you try to make an embarrassing joke though just expect him to scowl.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I wanna say kind of trimmed cause he looks like he manscapes but he likes having a happy trail of red hair leading to the ‘main treat’.

Idk why but I feel like if you didn't shave he'd go feral. 🤷‍♀️ Idk why lol but I think you not following the usual beauty standards would drive him literally insane lol

I = Initiation (how do they get you going? Vice versa )

He's a horn ball 24/7 so he's super handsy and if he's not touching you he'll spill pure filth no matter who's around. His crew gets a kick out of it but if they try and make comments to you best believe they'll be thrown overboard or spending their time scrubbing their own blood off the deck.

J = Jealous (how do they get when jealous )

It's Kidd…he's territorial. I can totally see him getting jealous and storming off somewhere. But if you've been together a long time he's not asking questions just grabbing you and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to punish you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation Kink! He loves the both of you being fucked out beyond the point of words, shaking and drooling from round after round.

Corruption Kink! If you're a good girl, best believe he wants to change that. Wants to turn you into a horny ticking time bomb, literally desires to turn that shy exterior into a handsy sex machine just like him.

Glasses glasses glasses!!! If you wear glasses it makes you look nerdy/sweet which plays into his corruption Kink and now he can't help but picture what they'll look like covered in his cum. (Totally self indulgent but IDC it's my page lol)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. This man has no shame when it comes to sex on his ship, hell he'll even fuck you in an alley way. Weirdly doesn't like you being seen though so he'll pick positions that he can cover you with his big body. Even covering your mouth so no one can hear the sweet sounds you make for him only.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's always horny but loves when you get just as handsy as him though. If you do try flirting he'll make you work for it just to see how far and bold you get.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Can't really think of anything this man won't do tbh lol 🤣 He's a freaky freak.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves fucking your face but loves eating pussy, it's his favorite meal. Ask him and he'll be honest.🥵 So sit on his face and then you both can devour each other.

P = Pace (rough and fast, slow and soft)

Depends on his mood. He's always rough but sometimes he'll fuck you slow with deep mind numbing thrusts till you're begging for him. Yet other times he'll fuck you fast and hard till you're shaking and drunk on his cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes yes yes. Whenever and however many he can get from you he's down.

R = Rope (shibari, bondage? Do they like it?)

Yup whether giving or receiving that man is down. He's a big boy who can take you whipping him or even slapping him across the face while he's tied up. But won't go as hard on you as you can go on him. He knows his strength but won't push yours unless you beg of course.

S = Sharing? (Are they willing to share you?)

Depends on who it is. If it's Killer, absolutely lol If he's having a captains talk with Law and Luffy and they just so happen to mention you he'll freak out in a feral lust but ultimately it's up to you of course.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He makes his own of course. He's a craftsman with many skills and desires so of course he'll come up with something.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The meanest 🥵 teasing you till you're pouting and begging for relief

V = Voyeur (do they like to watch)

Yup yup! He'll even join you in giving him a show lol

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you wear heels, step on him! Not in a submissive way but more in a, “I'm strong those pointy heels won't do shit” type of way. It's like a play on a pain fetish and heel/foot fetish. The feeling of your heels scratching at his shoulders make his groans so much raspier. Will also kiss along your ankles when you wear them telling you how hot they look.

If your feet end up hurting while you walk he'll just toss you over his shoulder before you can even think of removing them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick baby~ heavy dick and veiny with big breeding balls 🤷‍♀️ just saying the man cums alot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always on go!!!!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His brain can be pretty active so it takes him a minute tbh but he'll cuddle you to sleep and fall out shortly after.

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bellaramseysgf · 2 years

Text

New tattoos (E.M)

Warning(s); Dom!Eddie,Daddy kink,casual dominance,ddlg undertones?,size kink,adhd/overly energetic reader.

Pairing(s); Eddie Munson X girlfriend! Reader

Summary; after coming back home from vacation you discover your boyfriend has a new tattoo.

A/n; don’t- I know I said no eddie fics for while but this has been stuck on my brain for WEEKS.

You nodded as your parents rambled on about being safe and to have fun,grabbing your bag from the car you left them to walk into the school. You were gonna spend the next few nights with Eddie since you’d just spent the whole summer in New York with your aunt. 3 months spent where your only communication was late night phone calls you were sure you cousins listened in on and letters. You were overly excited because Eddie said he had a surprise for you,one he thought you’d really enjoy.

He had hellfire first though so you figured you’d just meet him at the school to avoid the rather awkward conversation with your dad. You knocked on the drama club door and stepped inside. “Look, y’all’s lucky charm is back” Gareth commented and Eddie stood up rushing over to you. You squealed when he lifted you up with just one of his arms holding you close to his chest as he buried his head into your neck.

You giggled and held onto his neck waving at the other members who you oddly missed just as much. “Your back!” Dustin was up not long after Eddie and huffed prying you from Eddie’s grip. “Dude, you need to learn to share your girlfriend” dustin commented and Eddie scoffed. “with you? No way” regardless dustin hugged you and you hugged him right back smiling at how fond you really were over him.

“How was New York?” Mike asked as you sat your bag down to join Eddie on his throne. “It was alright. Nothing I hadn’t seen before” you slid between him and the table his hands reached out and held your waist before sitting back on his lap. You truly didn’t think there was a happier place for Eddie to be then right here. He went on with instructing the campaign and everyone once and a while you’d feel him squeeze your hips to stop the bouncing of your leg.

Eddie’s hands were one of your favorite things while they practically engulfed your own they just looked pretty. Pale and nimble you’d happily have them touching you in anyway all day you loved them. You especially liked his rings they really made his fingers look that much longer and made you think of dirty things. You subconsciously twisted his rings around his fingers helping keep yourself distracted to stop from constantly moving. You think he enjoys letting you do it just as much as you enjoy doing it.

However hellfire did come to a close and dustin was already going on about the next campaign. You helped Eddie clean up slipping his dice into there separate pouches and noticing a few new ones he got that had Tiny skulls painted on them. Eddie kept all his dnd dice separated by design and highest numbers he was very ocd about it but you managed to get it right every time.

You handed him the velvet bag of dice and he kissed your forehead finishing up. You bent down to pick your bag back up “AYE!” You jumped when you heard eddie yell “no ma’am I carry that, thank you!” He proudly picked you bag up and you smiled as he walked you to his van. He put the things Into the back while you slid into the passenger seat “how was Hawkins without me?” You asked as he climbed inside.

“Fucking unbearable. Well, me and Steve became sorta friends so not that bad” yes,Steve Harrington one of your best friends and ex co workers. “Soooo” you said and Eddie glanced up at you before focusing back on the road “so, what? If you want something you need to ask clearly baby” you rolled your eyes and huffed. “You said you had a surprise for me” Eddie nodded “impatient little thing, I’ll show you once we get back to the trailer” you pouted and crossed your arm.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice turned more stern like how it does right after you break rules. “Don’t pout or I won’t let you see anything.” The added pressure to the word anything quickly made you stop your little pout.

Eddie finally pulled into his trailer park and came to a stop outside his own. You quickly slid out and helped him unlock the door since his hands were full. “Where’s Wayne?” You asked and Eddie shrugged “I’ve no clue but he’s off so maybe he’s just out” you nodded and made a b-line for his room. It smelled of cheep cologne,weed and oddly old metal. You wasted no time and tugged your shirt over your head swapping it for one of his Metallica ones that engulfed you.

“Always stealing my shit. You’re such a little thief” he teased and you smiled “admit it, you like that I steal your shit” he gasped dramatically “such bad language. You outta wash your mouth out with soap little girl” you smiled up at him working your doe eyes to look innocent like you always did. “Will daddy do it for me?” You asked tone soft and brimming with faux innocence “just want my fingers down your throat, naughty thing” you giggled and he placed a wet kiss to your lips.

“What’s my surprise?” You asked and Eddie sighed “Jesus, fine.” He hooked his arms under his shirt and tugged it over his head. Your eyes scanned over the tattoos that littered his chest a mischievous grin settling over your lips. You wanted to trace everyone one of them with your tongue. “I missed your tattoos” you went to wrap your arms around his neck but he stopped you “excuse me, there’s a new one.” You furrowed your brows and scanned over his chest once more.

Suddenly your eyes landed on the black ink settled on the right side of his lower abdomen. The tattoo read off the name ‘daddy’ in your handwriting “holy fuck.” You said and Eddie chuckled “you like it?” You nodded fingers tracing over the ink. It was still slightly red meaning it wasn’t completely done healing. You giggled and Eddie watched as you looked back up at him “what’re you gonna do when we start going to the pool and people ask why you have ‘daddy’ tattooed on you?” He shrugged ringed fingers coming to hold the sides of your face.

“I’ll look at them dead on and say I’ve got a little girl at home that just loves calling me that.” You felt blush rise on your cheeks “then, I’ll go in to tell them just how cute you sound when your whining it because I won’t let you cum” “Eddie!” You huffed and hit his chest. “So violent, thought I trained you better then that” the whimper you let out was muffled by his lips pressing to yours heatedly.

Eddie pushed you back until your fell back onto his squeaky mattress grinning from above you. “My shy little baby.” He cooed dropping down onto his mattress above you,caging you in like you were a animal. He dipped his head down and you both heard the front door close with a slam. Eddie sighed and drooped his head his curls tickling your face as you giggled at his uncles bad timing. “Eddie! Did you get y/n yet?” He yelled towards the bedroom, his door was open but recently before you left Eddie changed his room around so you couldn’t see the pair of you on his bed. He sat back on his knees “yeah! She’s with me! We will be there in a sec!” He grumbled and got up slipping his shirt back on.

He was facing you so you took the opportunity before his shirt fell all the way down you sat up quickly nipping at his new tattoo making him hiss. “That hurt you fucking brat” he gripped your jaw and you smiled proudly up at him “sorry, daddy.” He eyes you for minute before roughly dropping your chin almost shoving it from his hand. Wayne knocked before peaking around his open door “there she is! My favorite daughter-in-law” you smiled widely and got up running to hug Wayne. He was just as much of your dad as your biological one.

“I got pizza for dinner if you two are hungry” you turned in Wayne’s hold to look back at Eddie “oh I’m starving” you said smirking at your boyfriend who just gave you a death stare. “Good,let’s eat” Wayne kept his arm around your shoulders as the two of you left Eddie in his room to go eat.

#eddie munson #fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #tw: daddy kink

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rachalixie · 1 year

Text

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful jade @tasteleeknow my heart my soul my shared brain cell i love you dearly i hope you have the absolute best day <3

you wake up to the sun for the first time in a while, no alarm there to jolt you from whatever rest your body catches onto for the night. your senses come to you one by one, the warmth of the sunlight peeking through the blinds, the softness of your duvet, the sound of pans and pattering feet eching softly from outside, creating a disjointed melody you would never get tired of hearing. it’s a song you’re used to in the mornings, but somehow it feels more special, more personal, today.

you take your time stretching yourself awake, brushing your teeth, taming your wild bed-mussed hair into something presentable before exiting your room. you’re immediately attacked with a wall of delicious scent, and you find yourself gaping before you even take a glance at the magnificent (and somewhat unnecessary, given that there’s only two of you) spread of food he’s presented on the table. and him, wearing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt whose sleeves are too long for his arms and he has to keep pushing them back to have his hands free.

his eyes find yours almost immediately as he turns around, leaving behind the plate he was adjusting for the fifth time, like he can sense your presence in the room even though you’ve made no sound. there’s tiny galaxies swimming in his irises as he takes you in, the fondness clear as day through his wide smile.

“happy birthday, mine,” he croons, bouncing over to wrap strong arms around your entire body, trapping your arms against you as he practically lifts you up in his death squeeze. you blame that on the way your breath is taken away, but you know deep down that getting to see him in the morning does it to you every day, whether it’s waking up to him sleeping next to you or seeing him drowsy and squinty eyed as he makes coffee for both of you.

and the name he calls you, mine. a blatant display of his possessiveness for you, proof that he feels just as strongly for you as you do him, four letters that never fail to make your heart sing.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“of course i did,” he says, voice strong and adamant with a twist of shyness. “it’s for you. even this is not enough.”

and that’s it, isn’t it? his gentle love language, the way he pours his love into the things he does for you, in the ways he can’t explain with his words because he doesn’t know how. the way he presents you with things and massages and hugs, almost expecting rejection and lighting up when you do anything but that. hiding his pleased expression with sarcastic quips that you can see right through. you want to tell him that he could have presented you with a soggy piece of bread and you would still feel this way, special and important and loved.

you raise your hands to cup his cheeks instead, your language for him, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs. his big eyes shine at you as if he’s looking at the sun, straight on and unblinking like he knows he might go blind but he doesn’t care one bit. he turns his head in your hands to press a kiss to one palm reverently, then the other, the only gift you want or need from him given so early in the day (although, you’ve seen the wrapped box he poorly hid in your shared closet days ago and chose to ignore it for his sake).

he leads you to the table, helping you sit before taking the seat next to you and serving you a heaping plate. you reach for your fork, but he stops you, taking his own and holding a bite out for you instead. you raise a brow at him as if to say really? but he just holds your gaze and tips the fork closer to your mouth. you let him feed you with a roll of the eyes and hold back a moan of appreciation when the pancake almost melts in your mouth, the tang of a blueberry complimenting the syrup he generously drizzled on top.

he’s smiling at you knowingly and you know you’re blushing, but you ignore him in favor of opening your mouth up for another bite, letting him take care of you.

it is your birthday, after all.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #soft #stray kids soft thoughts #skz fluff #lee minho fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids x y/n #lee know soft hours

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maknaeswrld · 8 months

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a life forgotten | l.mh, h.js

memories are both a treasure and a curse, and the bliss of them barely outweighs the pain that comes with bearing them

wc: 2.1k

genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader

cw: marriage; cheating/allusions of cheating; mentions of pregnancy/parenthood; mentions of food/eating; I’m sure there’s other things, please let me know what you catch🫶 no happy ending for you; memories of past lives in italics

a/n: IN HONOR OF MINSUNG OUTTING THEMSELVES???????? respectfully I have no other explanation, enjoy!!!

Soulmates were an unpredictable thing. Everyone has them, but not everyone meets theirs.

Some actively avoid trying to find them, some do everything in their power to seek them out. You had always been in the boat of knowing it’ll happen when it happens, and if not in this life, then in the next. You had always been at peace with the knowledge that your soulmate was the one person you’re meant to find in every lifetime, so you didn’t see a point in searching for or avoiding them.

Everyone grew up hearing the stories, that seeing your soulmate for the first time will feel like instant recognition, like deja vu, and slowly as you spend more time together and see each other more, your memories of your shared past lives slowly unravel. You could understand why some would be scared of that, of the knowledge of who you were in a completely different lifetime, but you liked to think it was natural, otherwise it wouldn’t happen.

You always assumed you’d find your soulmate in a normal setting, meeting on the street or at one of your places of work, feeling the tingly feeling of familiarity and planning to meet up for a coffee, giving it the natural time to build to see if it was actually the soulmate bond or just mutual attraction. You found solace in inevitably becoming a statistic, in seeing your soulmate for the first time and them seeing you and everything happening the way everyone always told you it would.

But as your best friend was telling you about her current favorite band, listing off members names and facts faster than you could think, swiping through pictures of them all, you felt your heart sink as your eyes met the digital ones of two frighteningly familiar faces, your mind buzzing with soft recognition.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you grabbed your friends phone to swipe back to the picture, your brain alighting with renewed interest at the second look of the boys on the screen.

Water surrounded you in every direction, the sounds of laughter coming from behind you. You felt relaxed and happy, your body swaying with the peaceful rocking of the boat.

You startled only slightly when arms wrapped around your waist, a chin propping on your shoulder and a kiss being pressed gently to your cheek.

“Where is your beautiful mind right now, my love?”

“Just lost at sea, I suppose.” You laughed, turning around in his arms, one of your hands coming up to cup his face, the other reaching behind him to the other man. “Just thinking about how happy I am.”

Jisung’s smile lit up his entire face, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Come back to the group, love. The boys are going to start their whining if you ignore them for too long.” Minho groaned, squeezing your hand lovingly.

“Just the boys?” You ask teasingly, raising a brow at your lovers, Jisung grinned sheepishly.

“You know how your boys can get.” He waved nonchalantly.

You excused yourself, apologizing for cutting the lunch date with your friends short, but you needed air. Stumbling down the street, you were thankful the place they picked was only a block from your apartment.

The cool spring breeze calms your nerves and clears your head enough so you could watch where you were walking. You stumbled through your door, kicking off your shoes as you made your way to your couch, sitting heavily, head in your hands as your leg bounced.

A path cleared between two groups of people, a beautiful altar covered in vines and wildflowers at the end of it. Everyone present was looking at you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

Jisung had a lovesick smile on his face, Minho’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears. You felt weightless as you made your way to them, being the center of their attention making you feel like the most incredible person in the whole world.

Chan passed you off to them with a kiss to your cheek and a teasing threat towards your lovers, filling in for the father who disowned you for loving two men. They took one hand each, guiding you to stand in between them, all three of you giddy throughout the entire ceremony.

The rings Hyunjin made for the three of you were intricately beautiful, you saw them for the first time only as they were placed on each finger.

It was a fairly small and sweet affair, but you wouldn’t want to have had it any other way, everyone that mattered most to you and both of your husbands were present.

The night ran long as your love was celebrated, and ran even longer once you three finally got a moment for yourselves.

You felt numb, staring blankly at your floor while memories seemed to drown your mind.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing?” You asked quietly into the darkness. The arms around you tightened as Minho sucked in a deep breath, you knew he was frowning.

“What do you mean, darling? We have everything we could possibly need or want right here in this home.”

You didn’t disagree. You were happily married to the love of your life, three beautiful children sleeping peacefully just down the hall. You were safe from the wars raging in distant lands, your husband was far from being called to join, but yet you felt as if there was a space that was yet to be filled.

Sighing, you propped your chin up on Minho’s chest, squinting to see his face through the darkness.

“I think you know what I mean. I cannot explain it, but you must feel it too.”

You knew you and Minho were soulmates, you had no doubt about that, the endless shared memories in different worlds proved it well enough, but it almost felt as though that bond didn’t fully seal, despite everything.

“I think you should be worrying more about getting proper sleep so our child you're growing stays healthy than to worry on about something neither of us can actually explain, my love.”

Your hands slid down to your stomach, rubbing it as if second nature. You tried to ignore the pang in your heart now, knowing that what was missing in that memory was your second soulmate.

You got up from your spot on the couch, realizing it was already dark, and stumbling your way to the kitchen to make yourself some dinner.

“You two are never allowed in this kitchen again. I’m serious. How do you burn water?”

You and Jisung couldn’t stop giggling as you held each other, the both of you also confused as to how you’d managed that particular situation.

“Does that mean you’ll take care of us and cook for us every single day of the rest of our lives?” Jisung asked teasingly.

“If I did, it would only be to save our house from burning down.” Minho grumbled.

“Awe! Min loves us, Sungie!”

You and Jisung’s giggles started back up as you both took a side to sandwich your lover into a hug, heart fluttering when he didn’t reject it and instead wrapped his arms around you both to drag the two of you in tighter, nuzzling his face in the nook between you.

“Yes. I absolutely do.” Minho muttered into Jisungs shoulder.

You didn’t think soulmate bonds worked this fast. You were always under the impression that it took time for the memories to surface. You felt dizzy by the non-stop assault, heart swelling with love and breaking with loneliness at the same exact time.

The early morning light cast a gentle glow across the kitchen, the birds were chirping peacefully, and the welcome scent of fresh coffee was filling your house. But your morning was far from peaceful.

You had barely moved from your spot on the couch all night, refusing to lay in a bed that was half empty and unable to sleep while your husband was God knows where.

Jisung had stormed out last night, leaving you sobbing and took nothing but his keys. You weren’t even certain he’d come back at all unless it was to get his things, and it was honestly your fault.

You had always despised cheaters, they were amongst the worst kind of people in your mind, but when you’d met Minho, he drew you in the exact same way Jisung had. You couldn’t fathom how it was possible, you and Jisung were soulmates, you had loved your husband more than anything in the world, but you somehow also shared all of that with Minho.

You never should have hid it, Jisung was a kind and understanding man, he would have been willing to at least hear you out before leaving you, but instead he found some of Minho’s belongings in your shared home. You tried to explain it to him, but he wasn’t in the mind to listen, just repeatedly asking for your secret lovers name and leaving the second you’d finally uttered it, ignoring your pleading for him to stay.

The wedding band on your left hand felt heavy as you twisted it subconsciously, as if trying to remind yourself that Jisung was still your soulmate and still legally bound to you, you hadn't lost him. At least not yet.

You leaned against the counter, trying desperately to keep yourself from breaking down again as you stared at the extra mug you had subconsciously poured for your husband.

“Can you poor another one of those, Y/n?” You whipped around at the sudden voice, fear and love filling you at the same time at the sight of both Jisung and Minho standing in the doorway, holding hands. “I think it’s gonna be a long morning.”

Grabbing your laptop, you settle into your bed, looking up your best friends favorite band and throwing yourself into compilations of your soulmates. The proof of them being soulmates was glaringly obvious, the subtle glances and touches, the soft looks, all the little things that scream they're in love, you truly couldn’t comprehend how people could look at it and assume it’s all perfectly platonic.

The more you watched, the more you fell into a pit of confusion. You didn’t miss the endless amounts of fans claiming to be any of the members soulmates, claiming they remember things, that if they could just be given a chance to meet up, the members would see. It was glaringly obvious that if you’d tried to reach out, you’d just be marked off as another fan seeking a way in to the bands inner circle.

Memories continued to interfere with your research on your soulmates throughout the night, in between ‘Minsung’ edits and compilations of the whole band. You could see why your friend liked them so much. They were the type of band with a bond so tight it was obvious their loyalties lied with one another first and foremost. From what you knew of the K-pop industry, that wasn’t standard.

The more you watched, the more you started to recognize all of them from your memories, not just your soulmates. Tears pricked your eyes at the thought, the fact that this group of souls seemed drawn to each other in every lifetime, and you were supposed to be one of them.

A quick search proved that they’ve talked about it before. Not much, mostly only in small subtle jokes, like one of them saying they all clicked so well from the beginning cause it just felt like they already knew each other. It was never actually said outright, but the evidence that they all knew they were a friendship that transcends lifetimes was obvious to anyone seeking it.

You could feel your soul longing for its other parts, and you began to wonder if there were more of you out there. Soulmates of your other apparent friends who know exactly who their souls belong to, and know that in this lifetime they are essentially unattainable. Your heart aches at the thought that if that were the case, there are more people out there that are likely extremely important to you that you won’t get to meet in this lifetime.

That realization hits hard. The reality was you wouldn’t meet the loves of your life, you wouldn’t meet the friends you have endless memories with, and you’ll never remember the rest of those friends or get to learn their faces and the memories you hold with them in this lifetime.

Because soulmates are an unpredictable thing. Everyone has them, but you wouldn’t get to meet yours.

a/n: I’m sorry?😅 I’m really not🤧

Part 2: a life remembered

#minsung #minsung x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #han jisung #stray kids fics #han jisung x reader #lee know #skz fanfic #skz x reader #lee know x reader #my world is in flames lol #soulmate au #no happy ending I’m sorry #poly!skz #poly!skz x reader #poly!minsung x reader

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milkywayes · 5 months

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dreamt a cipher

a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.

[AO3 link]

I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.

I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative.

I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.

A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!

A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.

I've posted the full cover art here.

────

Summary:

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.

-> AO3.

Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!

────

The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.

“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”

She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.

Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”

As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.

“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”

“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?”

“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Commander.”

“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”

Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.

“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”

“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”

-> continue reading on AO3

#mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #fanfic #shakarian fic #oh GOD. here it is. I'm BIRTHING this baby like Shepard birthed grunt #I'm so nervous but I am really proud of this story so Take it.#cipher tag

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forest-hashira · 6 months

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Lip Gloss

hello lovelies!!! i am back once again with more transfem gojo bc she's the love of my life. this fic doesn't have anything to do with her birthday, but it is in honor of it!

i sat on this one a little too long (most of it was written weeks ago and then i got distracted,,, and then i finished this at like 3 in the morning whoops) so i'm not as crazy about this one as i was about the ither two. regardless, i hope you all enjoy it!

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

content: transfem gojo, gender neutral reader, fluff, first time buying/using makeup, nothing actually happens but gojo gets a little flustered when you touch her lol

wc: ~2.8k

read on ao3 here!

After painting her nails, Satoru seemed more and more interested in making changes to her appearance, though she was still unsure about where she wanted to start.

“Why don’t we stick with non-permanent changes for now?” you suggested.

“Like what?”

“I could help you with makeup, if you wanted to start wearing any.”

She blinked dumbly for a moment, then tilted her head as she gazed up at you from where her head rested in your lap. “Like eyeliner and stuff?”

“Yeah, like eyeliner and stuff,” you agreed, gently stroking her hair from her eyes. “But you don’t have to wear any if you don’t want to. Plenty of women don’t wear makeup.”

She seemed to consider for a few moments, still holding your gaze. “I think makeup is a good next step. Do you have any I could borrow?”

“Well, it depends on what you want to start with,” you began with a slight shrug. “I’m more than happy to let you try out my lip products and blushes and such, but it’s not a good idea to share things like mascara and eyeliner.”

“Why not?” she pouted. You just smiled at her.

“Because it could give us both pinkeye.”

“...Oh.” Satoru blushed lightly then, clearly not having expected such a serious reason.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “But I’ll help you find some of your own, don’t worry. And yes, I’ll teach you how to use all of it,” you added, practically seeing the question as it formed in her brain.

She smiled a bit bashfully up at you, her eyes twinkling with love. “You know me so well,” she said, catching the hand you’d been using to play with her hair and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You felt your face warm slightly, the combination of her soft touch and affectionate demeanor causing you to feel a little fuzzy inside. “I try my best,” you said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed your hand back, kissing your knuckles again softly before she sat up. “So. Drugstore?” she asked, her eyes bright and hopeful.

You stifled your smile, pretending to consider her words for a moment. When a pout began to form on her lips, though, you relented. “Yeah, we can go see what kinds of makeup they have.”

Satoru practically bounced off the bed in her excitement, grabbing her sunglasses before rushing out of the room, calling over her shoulder for you to hurry up.

Her actions pulled a small laugh from you, and you shook your head slightly as you pushed yourself off the bed, grabbing your bag as you followed her to the door.

“You always take so long to catch up,” she complained, peeking at you through her hair, over the tops of her glasses.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed half heartedly, easily sliding your shoes on. “Do you want me to go with you or not?”

She did want you to go with her, obviously, since she doesn’t know the first thing about doing her own makeup, much less what products she should start with.

The pair of you wound up back at the same drug store where you had bought the sorceress’s first nail polish. Satoru had thought the nail polish display was overwhelming, but when she realized that not every makeup product fit on the same aisle, she looked like she might pass out.

“There’s so much…” she said quietly, her expression more than a little lost as she looked around.

“We’ll start easy,” you promised, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s look at lipgloss, yeah?”

Your girlfriend agreed wordlessly, giving a slight nod and letting you pull her over to the lip products. You looked over the options in silence for a moment, then turned to Satoru to explain things to her.

“I know you still want to keep this between us for now,” you started, and Satoru nodded in agreement, pulling her eyes away from the display to look at you as you spoke. “So I would suggest something really subtle. No bold colors or anything yet.”

“Okay. Is there, uh… what color do you think would look good on me?” A light blush dusted her cheeks as she spoke, and she looked away from you bashfully.

A soft smile tugged at your lips at her behavior. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you want to have one you could wear out of the house without drawing too much attention? Or do you want one to play around with at home?”

She considered your words for a moment. “One of each, I guess,” she eventually answered.

“Your best bet for something to wear out of the house would be a clear gloss,” you said right away, looking around the display for a moment before you spotted a clear gloss from your favorite brand. Plucking it from the shelves, you offered it to her. “This brand is my favorite, but you can get a different brand if you want.”

“What does it do? I mean, if there’s no color, why would you wear it?” Satoru accepted the gloss from you, looking over the packaging as she spoke.

You have a slight shrug. “Not much. It makes your lips look shiny, makes ‘em a little softer, too, sometimes. A lot of people will put a clear gloss over a colored lipstick so it’ll look shiny, but I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet.”

You half expected the woman to argue with you about it, insist she was ready for anything and to let her at it, but all she did was nod in agreement. “Okay, clear gloss for going out,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “And now a colored one for home?”

The process of selecting a lip gloss color didn’t take as long as picking a nail polish color had, and for that you were privately relieved; the longer the pair of you hung around the beauty section, the more likely it was that you could garner unwanted attention. Even though Satoru wasn’t a man, she still very much presented like one, and men didn’t usually spend this much time looking at makeup, even if they were with a partner.

The snowy haired wonder eventually settled on a soft peachy color, just a couple shades darker than the natural color of her lips, and she seemed proud of herself for her choice. “Can we look at eyeliner now?”

“Of course, baby.” You led her to the next aisle over, and as you began to scan the selection, you were disappointed but not surprised to find your only options were brown or black, which you told your partner.

“We can get you one of those colors if you want, but I think it would stick out more, since you don’t have dark eyelashes,” you advised, turning away from the shelves.

“They make white eyeliner?” She sounded surprised, but her eyes sparkled at the idea.

You laughed softly, affectionately. “Yeah, some companies do, but we’d probably have to order it online. Do you want to do that? Or do you want to get a darker color?”

“If we can find white I think I’d prefer that.”

The nod you gave in return was easy, and you ushered her a few steps further down the aisle, where you reached the same dilemma as you had with the eyeliner.

“Is white mascara even a thing?”

“Yeah, some companies that make white eyeliner will also have white mascara,” you confirmed. “But we could also try and find you a more lightweight product, probably some sort of clear gel, if you’d rather do that.”

This time, Satoru seemed less sure of an answer. “Let’s just see what we can find online when we get home,” she said after a few moments of consideration.

“We can definitely do that.”

The bright smile she shot you practically melted your heart, and you were relieved to see her shoulders relax a bit. “Anything else you want to look for while we’re here?”

She shook her head almost immediately, and you were once again enamored by the way her soft, frosty hair shifted back and forth across her forehead. “No, I’m happy with this for now,” she assured you, holding the two tubes of lip gloss up slightly.

If she was happy, you were happy, so you began to lead her towards the checkout again. You spotted something out of the corner of your eye on an aisle endcap as you walked, though, and you paused, turning to look at it. When you realized what it was, though, you inhaled a soft gasp of delight. “Ooh, Toru look!”

“What is it?” she asked, stopping and turning with you. When she did, she noticed the small collection of soft elastic headbands adorned with animal ears. “Those are cute,” she agreed, glancing away from the headbands and over at you.

“Can we get a couple?” you asked hopefully, looking over at Satoru and sticking out your bottom lip slightly, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Pleeease, Toru? We can use them together!”

“For what?” she asked, tilting her head slightly; to anyone else the question may have sounded condescending, but you could tell she was genuinely curious.

“When we do skincare and makeup together! It’ll help keep the hair out of our faces and everything.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, we can get a couple.” Her expression softened as you practically squealed with excitement.

“Thank you! Okay, now, which one do you want?” you asked, expression growing a bit more serious as you examined the options again. “What about this one?” Without giving her a chance to respond, you grabbed a white headband that had cat ears on it, holding it up to her. “It matches you best, I think.”

Now it was her turn to melt. All Satoru could do was nod in agreement; she didn’t really have a preference to begin with, so she was more than happy to let you pick for her.

“Which one do you think I should get?” you asked next, seeming much less sure on that front.

Wanting to give you the same consideration you had given her, she looked over the options, and after a moment, she selected a brown headband with little bear ears on it. “What about this one?”

“I remind you of a bear?” you asked, looking from the headband to your girlfriend’s face, your nose crinkled slightly at the idea.

Satoru nodded. “Yeah. You’re like a teddy bear, all soft and cuddly with me. It’s cute.”

Her words left you feeling a little flustered, cheeks growing warm. “Okay. I’ll get that one, then.”

She let you take the headband from her then, a slightly lovestruck expression on her face as she followed you to the checkout.

You paid for everything again, despite her protests, but she quieted down again when you took her hand for the walk back to the apartment.

“Do you still want to see if we can find you some white eyeliner and mascara online?” you asked her after you’d gotten home again, slipping your shoes off and nudging them back into their proper spot.

“Is it okay if we wait a little bit on that?” Satoru asked, biting her lip lightly as she glanced over at you. “I think I want to get used to wearing the lip gloss before I buy anything else.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you assured her. “We’re doing this at your pace, remember? Just want you to be happy, princess.”

The sorceress went the prettiest shade of pink at your words, and she nodded slightly, offering a quiet and slightly flustered “thanks.”

Deciding against teasing her for blushing, you took her hand, leading her back to the bedroom and sitting her down on the bed. “Let’s see what that tinted gloss looks on you,” you suggested, though you waited until she agreed to dig through the bag to grab the small bottle.

She stared up at you with wide eyes as you stood between her legs, smiling down at her sweetly. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you reached up and removed the sunglasses from her face, settling them carefully on the bedside table before turning back to her.

“You ready, princess?” you asked softly, rubbing your knuckles lightly along her cheek; you wanted to make sure Satoru was comfortable with every step of her transition process, even something as small as trying lip gloss for the first time in the privacy of her own home. When she nodded at your words, you relaxed slightly.

“Part your lips for me,” you instructed softly, subconsciously parting your own. When she seemed a bit unsure about the directions, though, you took her chin in your hand, thumb pressing lightly on her bottom lip and tugging her bottom jaw down the tiniest bit until her lips were parted like you needed. “Like this.”

Though her blush had died down a bit from when you’d arrived home, you could see that it had returned high across her cheeks, and her eyes were slightly dilated. You felt a bit of heat rising in your own cheeks at the way she looked at you, and you bit your lip as you released her chin from your grasp, instead beginning to twist the top off of the tube of lip gloss. “Satoru,” you sighed, hoping you didn’t sound as flustered as you felt. “Be good, okay? None of that right now.”

When you met her gaze again, you felt a bit more in control of yourself, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly at the obedient nod your girlfriend gave you. Once you were confident she was going to behave and hold still for you, you pulled the cap away from the rest of the tube, making sure the applicator had a good amount of gloss on it before gently swiping it across her bottom lip. You were careful to keep the gloss just on her lips, not wanting to make a mess of it, and after a moment you put the top back on the tube.

You showed Satoru how to rub her lips together in a way that would distribute the product across her lips a little better, then used the applicator to touch up a few spots that needed it.

“You always look pretty,” you told her quietly. “But right now you look even more like a princess. Do you want to see?”

She nodded eagerly at your words, white strands of hair dancing around her face at the movement. “Yes, please.”

A smile tugged at your lips at her response, and you turned to pull the little mirror out of the drawer in your bedside table, though you were stopped when you felt something press into you a little harder. You glanced down to see what it was, and were a little surprised to see your girlfriend’s hands resting on your hips; you weren’t sure when they’d gotten there, but you’d apparently been so focused on your task that you hadn’t noticed.

You said nothing about the placement of her hands, just smiled to yourself a bit more as you opened the drawer, shuffling around for a moment before pulling out the little hand mirror and offering it to Satoru. “What do you think?”

Satoru accepted the mirror as you offered it to her, somewhat reluctantly removing her hands from your hips in the process. She tore her gaze away from your face to examine her own in her reflection, and what she saw made her freeze for a moment. All in all, she didn’t really look that different from how she looked at work every day, but something about the enhanced peachiness of her lips had her transfixed, and her eyes widened slightly as she stared at herself silently in the mirror.

Her silence began to make you feel a bit anxious the longer it stretched on, and eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. “Baby?” you called gently. “Do you like it? If you don’t, that’s okay. You can take it off and you don’t have to wear it again.”

The words seemed to snap her back to reality, and she looked up at you again, eyes still wide and slightly awestruck. “I really do look pretty, don’t I?” she asked quietly, unable to help the slow smile that spread across her lips at the thought.

Relief crashed over you as she finally gave you an answer, and returning her bright smile was easy. “You always do,” you assured her, gently taking her chin between your fingers again and angling her face enough for you to kiss her soft, plush lips. “My pretty pretty princess.”

anyways happy birthday to my babygirl!!! ilysm toru

also the headbands will come into play in a later installment i promise

#fallon's fics #gojo #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo jjk #gojo fanfic #dividers by cafekitsune #transfem gojo #trans gojo #trans gojo satoru

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inklore · 2 years

Note

💕Bestie💕 I am in dire need of your incredible writing talents tonight and your slutty prompts request has arrived at the perfect time!

I would be indebted to you forever if you wrote something for Steve Rodgers! In my head, while Steve seems like a golden retriever of a human being, I have a feeling he would say the absolutely filthiest shit if his girl needed it (and I have a weakness for when men are just babbling incoherently about how fucking good their partner feels like 🥴) WE STAN VOCAL MEN IN THIS HOUSEHOLD 👏🏻👏🏻

I trust your beautifully creative brain, but I’d love something where it’s his first time sleeping with someone he’s been friends with for years - always a flirty will they won’t they type thing - and he’s been desperately in love with her but it’s all come to ahead now!

Please do with this what you will okay thanks byeeeeee love you 😘 😘

your horny wishes are merely my command, lovey. i hope you enjoy this quick little nasty thot <3

He doesn't need to say it—to say anything really. To vocalize how the both of you feel about getting to this point; the flirtations, the pining that you never got past, the need that has laid dormant, that is now all out on the table. That has you gripping your fingers into the meat of his shoulder. Your mouths open, touching, your breaths mingling, mixing in a shared desire—want—that you've both finally allowed yourselves to have.

Everything said the minute he pushed inside of you. The minute his girth stretched you out, the minute the "Oh, fuck," fell from his lips. His eyes screwed shut. Body still as if if he moved he might lose it completely. That this would end so shortly, quick, he's waited so long for this. To finally feel you, to have you like this.

"Need a minute," he mumbles against your lips, "just-ahh-" he groans into your mouth as his tongue moves against yours, as he slowly pushes into you until you're filled completely. Until he meets where you end. Finally becoming whole.

When he finally moves, when he finally starts thrusting inside of you it's like a saving grace. An ungodly feeling of pleasure singeing your nerve endings that you can't think, breathe, feel without it being because of Steve, for Steve.

And where your words lack his make up for it.

Where you can only moan and cry into his neck, against his lips, he makes up for with the filth that falls from his mouth. That brings you closer and closer to coming on his cock. That has you gripping around him and him groaning so deeply you think he must be going just as insane as you right now. The grip he has on the pillow your head is on so tight you can feel the fabric on the brink of giving.

"You feel so good. Fuck, how do you feel so good?" He kisses you, "you're unbelievable. Beautiful, warm-so fucking warm." Your tits bounce against his chest as his thrusts grow harder, faster, the tip of his cock hitting parts of your insides you expect to hurt but only bring more pleasure. More need. "Does it feel good for you? Do you like it, baby?"

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #chris evans smut #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #thots !

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steviewashere · 3 months

Text

Grief is Love in Secondary Form

Rating: General CW: Referenced Parental Death Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Grieving/Mourning, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Dialogue Heavy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Birthday Traditions

Today would've been my dad's fifty-ninth birthday. He's been gone my whole life, I don't remember him in any way, but it's the thought that counts. And while my mind is heavy at the reminder, this little thing is a love story with my grief and peace. As well as the grief I share for my late mother. This is my grief for her, too. <3

🎂—————🎂

It’s her birthday today and there isn’t a cake.

He stands in the kitchen, barefoot and pajamas, hands wrapped around a lukewarm mug of black coffee. The living room window is open. A light breeze floating through the space. Birds chirping on the highest branch of the Douglas Fir outside. Steve is still snoring away in the bedroom.

Another year without her presence and he’s still not used to it. To the silence that lingers after her. The way the world seems to move, to dance, to sing and chat. He’s still not used to the now sixteen years of waking himself up, dressing in his clothes, using the bathroom, and preparing his own meals. Or the way he still isn’t sure how she made her coffee, but he keeps trying, if only to see if he likes it, too.

The dining chair cushion is cold under him when he sits down. Dining room windows sealed shut, but the blinds pulled up to shine the sun down onto his bare arms. Warm and bright. Receding for mere seconds behind the rolling clouds. He’s never understood quiet. Part of the reason he’s always filled it with noise. Whatever he could find. Music or pots and pans or television. Today, though, he can make room for the white noise, the lull lingering around him. His breaths heavy and soft in it all. And his left leg bouncing up and down, barely skimming the table’s underside, a gentle wooden knock.

Slurps his coffee and lets it congeal to the sides of the cup when he’s unsatisfied with the taste. Maybe next time he tries the vanilla creamer. Maybe next time he just goes for a glass of orange juice instead. He settles back in his chair, arms wrapped around his chest, left leg crossed over the right. Foot jiggling side to side, hitting the soft fat of his calf. Swipes the hair dangling over his collarbone and wonders how long hers would be if she sat next to him. He wants to grow his down to the center of his back. That’s how hers was before she got sick; at least that’s what he thinks, what he can remember.

In the silence, he closes his eyes and tries to replicate the sound of her voice. If it was saccharine or husky in his brain. But it’s pointless. He hasn’t been able to remember since a month after she passed. Only six years old.

Some short time later, Steve stumbles out of the bedroom. Hair spiked from his scalp. T-shirt tangled on his body. One sock missing. Eddie grins at him, gestures to the pot of coffee that’s remained hot on the countertop, and pats the vacant chair next to him.

When Steve joins him, Eddie simply breathes. Staring out the window—still. Some squirrels run up and down the trunks of trees, carrying hefty loads of peanuts and broken cashews. He smiles, despite the melancholy knot in his chest.

“You’re up early,” Steve rasps. His voice still sleep-riddled and molasses slow with his waking.

Eddie hums. “Yeah, I just needed some time to think, I guess.”

A not so subtle slurp and smack, Steve’s always loud about his coffee. Maybe she liked hers the way Steve likes his; one sugar cube and a splash of whole milk. He’s tried that combination before, but maybe it would be better from Steve’s hands. “What about?” He asks, innocent and soft.

“My mama,” he answers. “Would’ve been her…forty-eighth birthday, I believe. Was just sort of absorbing the silence this morning.” Eddie leans forward in his chair, laying his forearms on the table, clasping his hands together. He eyes Steve—his still rumpled face glowing warm and eyes droopy. He reaches out a gentle hand, softly caressing the side of his face. Even the skin under his palm is warm. Drops it away so that it’s face up on the surface of the table. “I’m finding that I don’t mind it as much as I did when I was a little kid.”

Steve hums this time. “Is it okay to ask how old you were?”

“I was six,” Eddie answers. “Only got to know her for a couple years. She was sick half the time. Nothing that could’ve been prevented.” He shrugs. “But it still sucked when all she was was noise and laughter, you know? I don’t even remember her voice now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh,” he squeaks, shrugging again. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

Then, Steve sets his mug down. The clatter of it unusually loud in the room. They glance at each other. Steve’s eyes concerned and sad. “How can you make peace with something like that? I feel like when my mom dies, I’ll just be insufferable.”

“Well,” Eddie begins. “I mourned my mama a long time ago. Mourning and grieving are different, you know? Like—“ He runs his hand over Steve’s forearm, massaging into his veins. He tilts his head in thought. “—I mourned her when she died. And mourned her for a few months after. Her absence noticeable in everything I did. But…The memories are what I mourned. The relationship we had. The fun we shared.

“I’ve been grieving my whole life, though. You know, you never quite stop grieving.” He stops to take a deep breath, sighing away the hurt that tinges the edges of his lungs. Continues, slow and careful, “I grieve her presence in moments where she should be. Like when I graduated high school, finally. When I moved out on my own. When I fell in love. She should be here for me to share my life with, but she isn’t.” Eddie sighs once more, shaking his head. He scoots his hand to Steve’s, holding it with an iron grip. “But I know that if she were here in the state I remember her in, she’d be miserable. I wouldn’t want that for her. And though it took a lot of time, a lot of healing, and a lot of reassurance, I’ve had to make peace with it. For my sanity.”

Steve squeezes their hands harshly. “But what if she came back…not sick?” When they look once more at each other, his eyes are wide and pleading. Like he truly wants Eddie to consider the possibility.

And he has. He truly has. “I wouldn’t want that either,” he murmurs truthfully. “We know each other from different moments in time. She knew me when I was a child and I was playful and I was immature. When I was…stupid about the world around me and still curious.”

He shakes his hand free of Steve’s sweaty grasp. Instead, he brings both up and holds Steve’s face, cupping it gently, caressing his tender skin. Eddie sets his arms down on the table, elbows knocking the wood, bringing the head he’s holding. Steve reaches out with a tentative palm, nestled between his neck and shoulder. He leans into the touch, tilting his head a little, eyes closing. Steve’s thumb tickles the top of his collarbone.

“And…I knew her when she was sick. That’s all I really remember her as,” Eddie whispers, “I knew her without hair. Knew her with tired eyes, bruised purple underneath from how little sleep she was getting. She had a constant rasp in her chest and her skin was paler than mine, which can you believe?” He chuckles briefly, it’s not funny and he knows if he chances a peek, Steve will only look on with gentle horror and unfathomable sadness. Takes another breath (who knew that grieving was full of just deep breaths?). “But I only remember her towards the end of her life. I wouldn’t be able to tell you who she was outside of that.” Opens his eyes and realizes how painfully right he was about what he’d see in Steve. He soothes his thumbs over his skin. Trying, in some way, to tell him it’s alright.

They fall silent again. Steve’s eyes pooling with tears, darting between Eddie’s. Then, he breaks the seal. “What do we do now?”

He hasn’t really thought about that before. Hasn’t ever heard that question in the face of what could be considered his sob story. But, the truth that he digs from within him, he hopes it’s enough. “We love,” Eddie whispers, “that’s all you can do in grief. You hold on to the ones you love and wish for a healthy tomorrow. And you, sweetheart, are the love of my life.” He squishes Steve’s cheeks lightly with his grasp, leans forward, and plants a soft kiss between his eyebrows. “And we’re going to create so many memories in our lifetime. Maybe I couldn’t have the chance with her and her memory, but I have the chance with you. I will always grieve, but I will always find a way to love. Because there is always room to remember you, Steve. I’ll hold onto you until the day one of us dies, and then some.” He drags his hands down to Steve’s shoulders. They’re slightly tense, to which he presses in to try and relax. “You wanna do something that I like to do for her birthday? I usually did it with Wayne, but you’re my family, too. It’s tradition.”

“Sure,” Steve mutters, “we can do whatever you want.”

Eddie nods, his smile stretching across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it. “Let’s go buy a cake from the grocery store bakery and tonight, when we’re ready to eat it, we’ll go out on the balcony and look at the stars. Wayne bought a star in her name. So in a way, she’s always sort of there, even when it feels like she isn’t. Sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful, Eds. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweet thing.”

🎂—————🎂 Little thing here about my family :) My dad used to have this cake he'd request every year for his birthday when he was little. It was from a 1970s Spring magazine. It's in the shape of the Easter bunny's head, chocolate cake on the inside, sprinkled with a coating of coconut flakes. My nana used to make it for his birthday when I was little, we'd put candles and light them up, I'd make a wish, and then we'd share it. My uncle used to make spaghetti, too, his spaghetti was always the best. He was cool. Anyway. Also, somebody in my family bought a star in my dad's name. Which this program started in 1979, for context. So, Eddie was six around 1972, somebody would've had to buy it some years later. But I like the sentiment anyway.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort #fluff #established relationship

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analogwriting · 4 months

Text

Childhood Crush

Chapter 11: Zinc

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2.7k a/n: ngl, i rewrote this like three times lmfao next

“You know, when I invited you to stay for dinner, that doesn’t meant you had to make it,” Myra said with a small laugh as she sat at the table with you and her daughter. You were currently serving up some food. “What are these called, y/n?”

“They’re cabbage rolls.” Tell someone you’re missing your brother without telling them that you’re missing your brother.

“They look so good!” Lily was grinning ear to ear. “Let them cool off a little first, then start eating them.” The girl nodded excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Do you have children of your own?” You looked at Myra, shaking your head. “No, I have a little brother. I raised him and his friends were always around too. It was like I was a mother of three from my teens.” You never really considered Killer as one of the ones you raised. If anything, he helped you wrangle them in.

“Sounds like quite the handful you grew up with.” There was a fond smile on Myra’s face. You laughed, shaking your head. “You have no idea.” You finished serving everyone, sitting down at the table.

You make idle chit chat with the both of them, feeling the best you’ve felt in a while. You didn’t realize how much you craved human interaction until now. You’d been holing up for so long, you were going somewhat insane.

Myra asked a lot about you and you asked about them. Turns out this was an island of scientists. They had the most advanced medicines and groundbreaking search. They even had a training facility. With an island with as much knowledge as they had, they had to be able to defend themselves.

“Can I visit the lab?” you asked.

Myra laughed and nodded. “Absolutely. We can go in the morning. Do you need a place to stay for the night?”

“Oo! Can y/n sleep with me! I wanna have a sleepover!”

“Oh, I’m sure they want to have their own space to sleep, but I’m sure they’d love to read you a bedtime story.” Myra looked up at you, winking. You caught on.

“Absolutely. Whatever you want me to read, just let me know.” You smiled. Lily seemed bummed about not sharing a bed, but she was content with being able to have a story read to her by you.

After dinner, you went to go tuck in Lily, reading her a book. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep and you headed back downstairs. “She asleep?” Myra came out of the kitchen drying her hands from the dishes. You had tried to do them, but she had shooed you away. “You cooked, so I’ll clean,” she had said.

“”Yeah. Out like a light.” You let out a small chuckle. “I remember when my brother was that little. We didn’t really have story books though, so I just came up with whatever.”

“Sounds like you raised him the best you could.”

“I tried…” You shook your head, trying not to dwell on things.

“Anyway. Thanks for letting me stick around. I can get out of your hair-”

“You’re staying, remember?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I’m well aware. But you’re coming to the lab in the morning anyway, so this’ll be the easiest way.” She shrugged, smiling at you. You squirm a little and nod. “O-Okay. Thanks.”

“Would you like some tea? I want to poke your brain a little more. You said some interesting things at dinner that I’d like to know about.”

You blinked, nodding. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Whatever you wanna know.”

Myra and you talked well into the night. You told her some of the things you made and she seemed absolutely interested in everything you had to say. She asked questions when she had them and even seemed impressed with some of the things you accomplished. You were flustered to say the least.

Who knows, maybe if tomorrow went well, you could stay.

“Doctor Ziegler! Welcome back!” There was a chorus of greetings as you walked into the lab with Myra the next morning. Turns out Myra was pretty much the head of the whole island. She was the top dog. Talk about insane coincidence. That had to be a sign that you were meant to be here.

Myra showed you around and you were in awe. There were machines that you were seeing that you had never even thought could exist. There was so much you could learn here and from what Myra said, so much you could teach them as well.

They all had been raised around science while you had to pretty much teach it to yourself. You had more practical methods for some things. You held a new perspective that they were looking for.

At the end of the day, Myra had a proposition for you.

“What if you stayed here? You could stay at my place.”

You just stared at her in disbelief. You still couldn’t believe this was happening. You were seeing so many amazing things and now this amazing woman was asking you to stay. To help provide them with new insights.

“I-” You took a deep breath, trying to process it.

A laugh came from Myra. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Don’t feel like you need to answer immediately. You can take some time if you need. I know you’re a pirate n’ all, but I feel like you’d be an excellent addition to our team.” She smiled warmly at you.

“Ah, yeah…let me think about it. I’ll get back to you in the morning.”

With that, you left. You needed to talk to your brother first and foremost. While you walked back to the ship, you were mulling over your options. Honestly, they were all pointing to staying. You were looking for an excuse to leave the crew at this point. Plus, if you stayed and furthered your own knowledge, perhaps you could finally be of use to your brother. You could make better medicines. Hell, you might even be able to get your arm back.

For the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

“Absolutely not.” Eustass wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying, but you weren’t going to let him squash your dreams.

“Bold of you to assume I’m asking.” You glared at him with your hands on your hips. He dropped the box he had with a groan, turning on you. “Bigs, I’m not letting you stay at some random island just cause you want to.”

He glared at you. “You fucking disappear for two days and now you just wanna fuckin’ stay? Leave us? Like hell I’m letting you do that.”

You just stared at him. The audacity of this kid sometimes. “Listen. I’m staying and that’s final. There’s a lot of shit I can learn here. And you guys have things you need to do.”

“Killer!”

“I’m not touching this one, captain. This is all you.”

Eustass cursed at Killer who didn’t even respond, letting him say what he wanted. You sighed. “I know you’re worried. But, I’ll come find you, okay? I’ll only stay maybe a year or two. There’s a lot I can learn from here. I’ll come back with more ways to help out the crew.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want.” Then he turns on his heels and stomps on the ship. You run a hand through your hair. You weren’t expecting it to end up that badly. You thought that after your last fight he’d be willing to just let you leave.

“Y/N!” You turn around to see Dive, like her namesake, diving off the ship and towards you. You don’t have time to move as she collides into you, but you braced for impact just enough to catch her. “For fuck’s sake, Dive!”

She just cackled as she hung off of you as if she was some small child. Well, she was shaped like one. She looked up at you, jumping off. “I heard you talking when I was passing.” She frowned deeply. “Are you really leaving?”

You nodded, sighing as you sat down on a box. “Yes. But it’s just for a little bit, I swear.” You smiled at her. She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to me I literally heard you tell the captain a year or two. That isn’t a little bit at all.”

“Well, in the grand scheme of things - that’s not very long.”

“That’s years, y/n! That’s such a long time,” she groaned, flopping onto your lap. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure out something to do. Just…don’t chew on the ship.”

She looked at you, a devious glint in her eye. “If you leave, there’s no stopping me from chewing on the ship.” Your face turned into a deadpan. “I will leave you with nothing to strengthen your teeth if you act like that.”

Her eyes widened and she pursed her lips. “Mmm, fine. I’ll behave.” She folded her arms and pouted. “Fuckin’ dumb,” she grumbled. “Why do you have to go?” she whined.

You sighed, leaning back on your hands. “Because…” A certain face popped into your mind, immediately souring your mood. “I could learn a lot here. Then when I come back I’ll have even cooler shit for you guys.”

Dive seemed to mull it over. “I still think you’re just fine.” Honestly, you were a little shocked right now. You weren’t expecting Dive to try to get you to stay. Or anyone really. Not from what Kese had said. Maybe he had been lying? Or maybe this was some elaborate plan to keep you on the ship so that Eustass didn’t have to worry.

But you didn’t want him to feel obligated to watch over you anymore. Besides, you had already dug your grave and made your decision. You were staying.

After a few more minutes of shooting the shit with Dive, you headed to your lab to start gathering your things.

While you were packing up your things, members of the crew came to say goodbye. You still weren’t sure how the hell to feel about everything. Was this your brother’s ploy to make you feel bad and stay? You appreciated the sentiment, but you weren’t going to stay. You knew you’d only hold him back.

Later that night, you’re packing up your things in the lab. You hear a knock on your doorframe. You look to see Eustass, Killer, Heat, and Wire standing there. You fully turn towards them. “Hello?” You’re confused, but not exactly unhappy to see them.

Heat walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug as he lifts you off the floor. You sputtered in confusion for a moment, blinking rapidly as you were processing what was going on. “We’re gonna miss you.” Then he set you down and you looked up at him. You offered a small smile. “I’m gonna miss you too.

“Be safe, y/n.” Wire was speaking this time in his usual cool tone. You look at him and nod. “Always.” There was a somber mood and this was the calmest you had seen some of them, but you supposed this was also the first time you weren’t going to see them for an extended amount of time in…almost a decade? And you’ve been at your brother’s side since he was born.

“We did make something for you,” Eustass said with a bit of a grimace on his face. It seemed like he was accepting he couldn’t stop you, but he was still clearly not happy about it. At least he was respecting your wishes.

Killer stepped forward, presenting a sheathed knife to you. You looked at the four of them before taking it gently in your hands. “We wanted you to have something to defend yourself on the new island,” Killer said. “Can’t have you dying on us,” Wire chimed in. You laughed gently, a fond expression forming on your face.

“We were gonna wait for your birthday, but…” Eustass dropped off his sentence, folding his arms and looking away. “Someone wants to fuckin’ leave.” He was straight up pouting and it was honestly very amusing.

You took the knife out, wrapping your hand around the grip. It was absolutely stunning. The metal was different colors depending on the lighting and it seemed to have a slight curve to it. Much akin to the scythes you had made for Killer all those years ago. You saw your brother’s jolly roger in the hilt and etched into the base of the blade itself.

You felt your face soften and tears start forming in your eyes. “You guys are so fuckin’ sweet,” you grumbled, sniffling. You wiped your tears away, putting the blade up and quickly attaching it to your belt.

“We’re gonna miss you,” Killer said. You nodded, looking at all of them. “And I’m gonna miss you all too.” Your brother walked up to you, easily towering you, and you looked up at him. There was a mixture of emotions on his face, but it seemed he finally gave in. He hugged you tightly - you holding him in turn.

“I’m so proud of you, Tungsten. Remember that, alright?” You felt him tense for a moment before hugging you a little tighter. You just smiled fondly. Honestly, you were worried what would happen if you weren’t around, but you knew they’d hold their own. After all, how the hell would you protect them anyway? You needed this. All you had done your entire life was take care of them and it was time for you to figure out your own thing.

At least for a little while.

“Don’t die on us, Bigs,” Eustass mumbled, clearing his throat. You let out a small laugh, pulling away from him and taking his face in your hands. You grinned widely. “You should know it takes a lot to kill a roach like me.” He stared for a moment before letting out his own large grin. “Fuck yeah. That’s right.”

“Just make sure none of you die on me, okay?” you said, stepping back and looking at the four of them. You placed your hands on your hips. “I swear to fuck that if any of you die - I will personally bring you back and end your lives myself, got it?” You narrowed your eyes at them. They all just laughed at you, your own smile spreading across your face.

You felt…at peace right now. You weren’t thinking of Kese or the things he said. You were starting to think he was wrong but…this was something that needed to happen. Your brother needed to be able to grow without you. They all did. And you needed to be able to do your own thing.

One by one, they filed out until Killer was the only one left. “It’s nice to see that spark of life in your eye again. I just wish you weren’t leaving for us to have seen it again.” You blinked, feeling your face warm up. You didn’t even realize how much you had changed yourself.

“Listen…” You looked up at him as he spoke, tilting your head to the side. “Hm?”

“I…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Be careful, yeah?”

You blinked. It seemed like he had wanted to say something else, but you were letting it go. You smiled at him. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll come back to you guys in one piece, alright?” He nodded, quickly leaving after that.

That was weird.

After saying their goodbyes to you, they all bid you farewell. As the ship sailed off, everyone was waving and yelling their sentiments to you. Eustass was standing with his usual three people. “So…did you tell ‘em?”

Killer tensed but deflated, earning sighs from the others. Heat and Wire walked off, throwing their hands in the air.

“Fucking hopeless,” Eustass said with a shake of his head.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #cc #am fics

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