#Asphalt Parking Lot Safe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months ago

Text

Best of the Bad Boys | Part II

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: You've fallen for the best of the best. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the worst of the worst.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: ~1900

Part I | Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell me Viper was your father?” Maverick calls, following you out into the lot.

You’re walking briskly ahead of him because you were hoping to postpone this very conversation. You slow your pace a touch and glance back at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t ask.”

Maverick gives you a disgruntled look and slides a pair of aviators over his eyes. “Cute,” he replies curtly, walking past you toward his bike.

“Did you tell my father what you’re giving me a ride in?” you ask, eyeing the motorcycle skeptically.

Maverick pauses briefly as he grabs the handlebar and lowers his head to peek up at you over the rims of his sunglasses. “Your father trusts me to fly jets. I think he’d be okay with the Ninja.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It’s your ass on the line.”

Maverick exhales sharply and takes a step toward you. “Exactly,” he says moodily. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” you exclaim in a forceful whisper, very conscious of how close he’s gotten. “I never come here.” You look around anxiously, ensuring that no one is around. “Today was an exception – obviously,” you finish, rubbing the back of your head where your clip had broken against it.

Maverick watches you intently. “Are you okay?” he finally says.

“You already asked me that,” you retort grumpily, lowering your gaze.

“I’m asking again.”

“I’m fine.”

Maverick lets out another sigh and then mounts his bike. He glances over at you. “You coming?”

You hesitate for a moment before climbing onto the back of the seat. Tentatively, you take a hold of his jacket, being careful not to actually touch his body.

But Maverick takes your hand in his and brings it around his torso, pressing it into his abdomen. You hold your breath nervously, trying not to think about the ripple of abs you can feel underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m not going to be flooring it,” he says, starting the engine. “But I’d still prefer it if you held on.”

You bring your other hand around to his stomach, wondering if riding around on a motorcycle is really the best pastime for someone whose limbs are still feeling like jelly after an – albeit minor – collision. You know that your father would certainly not approve. And yet, you somehow feel like you could trust Maverick to deliver you home safe and sound.

As Maverick pulls out of the lot, he yells to you over the roar of the engine, “You thought you’d never see me again?”

You stare at the back of his neck, wondering how the heck you’re going to reply. Thankfully, the motor is loud enough that you have some time to think about it.

When Maverick slows to a stop at a red light, he turns his head to the side so that you’re graced with the contours of his side profile for several moments. He doesn’t strain to look at you over his shoulder but the pause as he lowers his gaze to the asphalt is enough to confirm that he’s awaiting a response.

“I didn’t know you were planning on staying,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence despite your discomfort.

Maverick revs his engine just before the light turns green and starts rolling through the intersection the moment it changes. He doesn’t say anything else until he parks outside your house and kills the engine. “I wasn’t,” he says evenly and then climbs off the bike. He turns to look at you coolly and offers a hand to help you down.

You ignore his outstretched hand and dismount without his help. “You weren’t going to stay?” you ask casually, pretending that the impending answer is entirely insignificant to you.

Maverick shakes his head. “I turned down the offer last week.”

You gulp anxiously, suddenly severely distraught at the thought of Maverick leaving – even though you apparently ‘never thought you’d see him again.’ “But my dad said – does he know that you turned down the offer?”

Maverick watches you in silence for a second and then nods. He drops his gaze then and mutters, “I called him this morning, told him I was reconsidering my decision.” His eyes meet yours again with a stoic expression.

You blink to break the eye contact and look away uneasily. “How come?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Just felt like sticking around for a bit,” he says.

You glance up at him and, while he’s still not exactly smiling, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows has softened a touch. You realize that his change of heart must have had – at least in part – something to do with you, considering it happened immediately after your encounter. But you’re too afraid of being wrong to voice this theory so, instead, you say, “Even so, I’m hardly ever on base and I don’t exactly hang out at the officer’s club very often. The chances of us running into each other again were pretty slim.”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “You gave me your number.”

“Would you have called?”

Maverick stares at you. “I wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t going to call.”

You shrug. “It was a fake number.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you around then.” He turns back to his bike and swings his leg over to mount it. “Or I guess I won’t,” he adds, turning the key in the ignition.

You panic and take a step toward him, placing your hand over the handlebar and grasping it firmly. “Can you image if I had given you my real number?” you ask. “You would’ve called – maybe” – you add with an eyeroll – “But, if you had and my father picked up? Then what?”

Maverick holds your gaze as your words sink in. Of course, your logic is sound. You couldn’t give him your real number. “You could’ve told me he was your father,” he says levelly, clearly still abundantly vexed. “What else did you lie about?”

You tighten your grip around the handlebar until your knuckles turn white. “Don’t act like you had any intention of seeing me again. And, if you did, how would I know? It’s not like you have a history of committed relationships.”

“What do you know about my history?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow as though you’ve piqued his interest.

You freeze for a moment and press your lips together crossly, annoyed that he’s caught onto the fact that you know more about him than you’d originally let on. “Are you going to take the position?” you ask irritably, completely ignoring his question.

“How can I?” he asks, raising his voice. Then, in a desperate whisper, he adds, “I slept with my superior officer’s daughter!”

You stare at him guiltily. “He doesn’t have to know,” you say.

“I know,” Maverick responds, his eyes boring into yours.

You sigh. “Pretend you don’t.” After a few moments of silence, you let go of the bike and give him a tight smile and a small wave as you start to back away.

Maverick doesn’t wave back. He watches you grimly as you retreat until you finally turn your back to him and ascend the steps of your porch.

You pause at your front door, wondering if you're ever going to see him again. But as you start to dig in your pocket for your house key, you feel a hand graze your upper back, and you whip your head around in surprise. How Maverick managed to scale your porch in under five seconds is beyond you, but you’re far too swept away to ruminate on the details.

Maverick waits a beat, his fingers sliding down your arm as you rotate to face him. His gaze slips momentarily to your lips before he says, “I’m not good at pretending.”

You stare at him in shock as the familiar weakness in your knees – a recurring ailment where Maverick is concerned – threatens to compromise your balance. Standing there, admiring the angles of his face, you suddenly can't think of anything more awe-inspiring. “You should take the job,” you say feebly as he draws ever closer.

Maverick sets his jaw and breathes forcefully out through his nose as though he’s combatting a sentiment he’d rather not express. “Okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. This move destabilizes you further.

You glance up at him and his lips brush softly over the tip of your nose. Your heart springs violently into your throat and then proceeds to bounce around your ribcage like a pinball. He smells like leather and cologne and his light eyes hold your gaze like a magnet. “I’ll stay away from the base,” you say quietly, not daring to believe your own words.

His hands slide up your shoulders and then your neck and then he cradles your head in his palms. “Okay,” he repeats, his face so close to yours that you can almost taste the citrus in his aftershave.

You try to control your breathing, closing your eyes as his thumbs sweep gently over your cheeks. “We can forget all about this,” you whisper very faintly, as though you don’t want to be heard.

Maverick nudges your face with the tip of his nose and mutters, “Okay,” in a warm, humid whisper. His lips move slowly over yours and, languidly, he wraps an entire arm around the back of your neck to bring your closer. He takes a few steps toward you but, since you’re already flush against his body, you’re forced to take a few steps back.

“Thank you for the ride,” you mumble against his lips and you feel him grin at your words.

“My pleasure,” he responds without taking his mouth off yours. He guides you backward until you’re against the front door of your house and suddenly you realize that you’re making out with a Top Gun aviator under your father’s roof.

This thought startles you awake and you brace your hands against Maverick’s chest, giving him a slight push.

Maverick withdraws instantly and drops his head with a heavy sigh before glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, despite the unapologetic grin.

You scoff with an eye roll and shake your head. Not only is this turn of events the complete opposite of your earlier proposition but it’s also very much something you swore you’d never do. Maverick is just about the worst decision you could make and yet, here you are continuing to make it. “My friend told me you’re trouble,” you say, straightening your posture because you’re now addressing something of utmost importance.

Maverick’s mouth tightens slightly as he attempts to keep a straight face. “Susan?”

“Yes, Susan,” you retort mockingly, surprised that he remembers her name.

Maverick purses his lips, shifting his jaw in thought as he squints his eyes at you. “What sort of trouble?”

You give him a flat look. “She wasn’t specific.”

He nods. “How convenient.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re denying this?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah, she’s probably right.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Good to know.”

He meets your gaze with a more genuine expression. “Come on,” he says. “It’s not like you haven’t already made up your mind about me.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, ignoring the way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun. You’d love to just be straightforward and ask what his true intentions are, but that seems lame and boring and awkward. And you’re none of those things. So, you say, “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

Maverick gives you a small smile and nods. “Okay,” He responds.

Maverick Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

521 notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 9 months ago

Text

velma

eddie munson x fem!reader

You attend a Halloween party with Eddie, things don't go quite as planned when Jason Carver acts like a jerk.

cw: allusions to curvy reader, drinking, drugs, blood, violence, eddie fights off screen, body insecurities, kissing, not proofread, working on writing fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

masterlist

—

“Are you gonna go to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” Eddie asked, long legs hanging out the back of his van. His stained Reeboks were planted firmly on the concrete, knees pushing out of the rips in his black jeans. You sat in the parking lot of the movie theater, eating the remainder of the snacks you hadn’t finished earlier. The night was quiet, most Hawkins residents already tucked safely into their beds.

You paused midway through trying to shove a handful of popcorn into your mouth, is Eddie going insane? “Are you going to Chelsea Hanover’s Halloween party?” You were practically gawking as you swung your sock-covered feet in the crisp night air. The sneakers you wore had been abandoned in a pile on the shag carpet.

You thought Eddie was over all the stupid high school activities at this point, with it being his third go at senior-year and all. He’d never talked about going to a party in the past six months of your budding friendship, and, in Hawkins, there were plenty of parties to attend.

He was quiet as he took another drink from his slushie, red-stained lips turning up into a smirk. “I was thinking about going to sell. Make some money off the rich kids.”

“What, do you want me to come entertain you?” There was an edge to your voice that you didn’t expect. Your chest felt tight as soon as he brought up the party, anxiety knitting your lungs together. You traced the cracks in the asphalt with your eyes.

Your frustration wasn’t meant for Eddie, it rarely ever was.

You had to stop pretending that all your so-called friends from your junior year of high school weren’t because of Billy. None of them had even bothered to speak to you since he dumped you like trash last summer. And especially not since the day of his funeral. They were fake and plastic people.

Eddie chuckled, fishing his carton of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He didn’t seem to notice how stiff you’d become, your legs rigid in the night air. “Well, yeah. If you want. It could be a night of making fun of Hawkins’ finest.”

You smiled weakly, trying to hide the sour mood that had come over you. Eddie just wanted a friend to be there–you knew Gareth and Jeff would say no immediately. You didn’t want to throw him to the wolves alone. Chelsea Hanover’s parties were awful if you didn’t know anyone or didn’t want to dance. Eddie didn’t seem like much of a dancer to you. “You know what, sure. Count me in, Munson.”

His pearly white teeth lit up in the glow of his lighter as he brought the cigarette to his lips, a smile radiating across his masculine features. A tendril of anxiety wrapped around your throat as you filed through worst-case-scenarios, each growing more and more catastrophic.

Your stomach did a flip as you pushed the bucket of popcorn aside, trying to be subtle as your thoughts raced. You suddenly obsessed about how your thighs pressed together and your bra cut into the layer of excess fat in your back, all new discoveries in the past couple of months. Your mother had reminded you that being thin at eighteen would be harder than being thin at seventeen—you’d locked yourself in your bathroom to cry for the better part of your birthday after stepping on the scale.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice your turmoil, methodically chewing as though everything was fine. Of course he wouldn’t notice, he didn’t understand the intricacies of girlhood that made your skin feel too tight. You fluffed your sweater out, suddenly self-conscious about what areas of your body it was snug against.

Robin would help you find a costume.

—

The high socks squeezed just above your knees as you made your way up to the front door, red skirt swishing around the middles of your plush thighs with each step. You took a deep breath, a wave of heat and sound rolling over you as you opened the door. There were people in a variety of costumes everywhere inside. A few classmates nodded at you in acknowledgment as you shut the door and stepped into the humid living room, quickly turning their attention back to their friends.

Where was Eddie? You did a once over of the room, scanning the edges of the dance floor for the shaggy-haired boy. The couches had all been pushed out of the way to make space for a makeshift dance floor, the stereo in the corner booming Cyndi Lauper. It was a miracle that it couldn’t be heard outside.

The clusters of people spilled into the kitchen. There was limited space to weave through the crowd, you kept whispering apologies as you made your way to the other room. Upon entering, you were handed a cup of red punch from a boy you vaguely knew from English. You offered him a smile, a nod in his direction as you raised the cup to your lips.

You wrinkled your nose as you took a sip, it was strong.

There were no traces of Eddie anywhere. The room was filled with Indiana Joneses and Maddonas and Ghostbusters and Flashdance characters. No curly-headed metalheads in sight, though. Eddie didn’t seem like someone who would wear a Halloween costume, not for a party he was planning on dealing at.

You leaned against the breakfast counter lazily, watching the people on the dance floor bump into one another. The plastic cup stuck to your fingers as you gulped down the rest of the drink, grimacing at the after taste of vodka. You traced the edges of the porcelain tiles as you took up your place as a designated wallflower.

You downed four more cups of the punch before you got restless, deciding to investigate the rest of the party before accepting defeat. Your feet shuffled in slow motion as you approached the sliding glass door on the other end of the room. It was open, allowing teens to trickle outside and spread across the dark backyard.

The smell of cigarettes and weed wafted through the door as the autumn breeze picked it up, sparking a small flame of hope that your best friend was outside.

You tripped on the door track as you stepped into the much cooler night, steadying yourself and your sloshing drink against the doorframe before looking up. There were a few groups outside, most nursing drinks or joints or cigarettes and murmuring to one another. The music coming from the living room was so faint that you could barely make out the lyrics.

“Hey, Velma!” Your head slowly turned towards the voice, your lips buzzing as the alcohol settled in. Eddie was illuminated by the soft light diffused by the curtains in the kitchen window. He sat at a metal table with his trusty lunch box, head cocked slightly to the side as he absorbed your costume. You realized he was wearing a dark green “Corroded Coffin” t-shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans, meaning you vaguely matched.

If you squinted, or drank too much.

You fell into the chair next to him with an oof!, crossing your legs at the ankles as you leaned back. Your head lolled back to rest on the weathered cushion as a breathy laugh escaped your throat. “We match,” you said, looking at how the stars were swirling in the sky. Your breaths were heavy as you waited for the world to still, a smile stretching its way across your face regardless.

“I didn’t know you were gonna come in costume, princess,” Eddie laughed, busily rolling joints to keep his hands occupied. You placed the sticky plastic cup on the table before stretching your arms out in front of you. Your gaze traced the wide cable-knit of the orange sweater, wiggling your fingers as you contemplated.

Self-consciousness reared its ugly head, making you sit up and lean closer to the brunette. “Do I look bad?” you whispered, fingertips finding the edge of your skirt. Your eyes were wide as he paused to study you, a soft grin breaking out on his face. You waited for his judgment, fiddling with anything in your reach before landing on braiding a thin strip of your hair.

“You look great,” he assured. There was a beat of silence, your heads still bent together conspiratorially. Eddie looked like he was thinking, his tongue licked his bottom lip. “You should’ve told me you were gonna dress up, I would’ve done it with you.”

“You already look like you did, Shaggy,” you murmured with a sly half smile, taking another drink as you settled back into the metal chair. Eddie grinned, glancing down at his own outfit.

Everything got all fuzzy on the edges as you finished the red liquid in your cup, joking with Eddie between drug deals. The basketball players who came by barely looked at you, only sparing glances as Eddie overcharged them for weed.

He didn’t notice the cold shoulders, or he at least pretended not to, making fun of their costume choices as soon as they walked away. You pretended like they didn’t bother you. It felt strange to be at one of these parties after everything that happened with Billy, you’d never felt more invisible.

But Eddie saw you, his brown eyes drifting to you more often than usual. You couldn’t tell if it was just because he was worried about how much you were drinking. You found yourself liking the way he talked, hands waving wildly as his voice slid into different impersonations of the people around you. He was always so genuinely Eddie, you wondered what it would feel like to be like that.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said as Eddie’s attention was pulled away by a group of juniors with wide eyes and crumpled dollar bills. He gave you a thumbs up as he rifled through the contents of his stash.

You swayed a bit as you stood, your grip on the plastic cup crumpling it slightly. The juniors eyed you as you walked around the edge of their little group, Eddie’s voice spitting out prices calling their attention back to him.

Armed with a deep breath to ground yourself, you shouldered your way back into the house. There were even more people than before. With no room to move properly, you jammed yourself into the throng of people that were making their way to the kitchen. Despite how many people were here there was surprisingly still plenty to drink.

You had never known Chelsea to be so generous, at least not during your short-lived friendship.

You stopped in front of the punch bowl, staring at your wobbling reflection in the liquid as you filled your cup with the ladle. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you hardly recognized yourself. The proportions of your face were so different than when you primped and prepped in the mirror, your gaze felt less harsh as you stared at the girl in the punch bowl. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you glared at the rose-colored image of yourself, wondering what you actually looked like.

A hand clasped your shoulder, an anchor back to reality. You pivoted on your heel, thinking that Eddie had come to talk to you about something, maybe ready to leave and go find somewhere to park and talk and listen to music.

Your face fell when you recognized Jason Carver’s blue eyes.

It had been ages since Jason had so much as talked to you. He used to follow Billy around like a puppy, hoping that it would make him the captain of the basketball team after graduation. Of course, Billy had treated Jason like the rest of you, rewarding his neediness with a cold shoulder.

“You know, Billy would be so disappointed if he was still here.” Jason may as well have spit on you. You stepped back, your spine pressing into the chilly counter as you tried to put some space between you. His eyes had a hard time settling, staring you up and down as you tried to remain still under his gaze. “He probably wouldn’t even recognize you, especially now that you’re hanging out with the losers.”

You scowled, rage making your throat tighten. “He didn’t even like you, Jason.” Blonde eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m sure he’s rolling in his grave knowing that the pathetic Jesus kid who would’ve blown him if he asked is in charge of the basketball team.”

You were getting a little too loud, the people standing nearest to you were turning their heads to see what the commotion was about. Jason evaluated the crowd before grabbing your wrist, a sick smile spreading across his face. “I think you’ve had enough.” There was a threatening edge to his voice as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

You strained against him, the punch sloshing over the edges of the cup and down your fingers. Droplets flecked onto his yellow Teen Wolf costume like blood. Panic started to creep up your throat, the reminder that none of the other people at the party were going to help you made your blood run cold.

“Jason, stop,” you muttered, your voice thick. More punch slid down your hand as you tried to tug yourself from his grip. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you attempted to find a way out. “Let me go.”

He squeezed your wrist even tighter as hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. You were sure long lines of mascara were left behind, you couldn’t even move your free hand to wipe them away. Fear paralyzed you as the pounding of the music filled every space in your mind. Your mind whirred uselessly, so caught off guard by the aggression that you hardly knew how to respond.

A ringed hand wrapped around Jason’s forearm; you flinched at the sudden intrusion. Eddie was bristling next to you, squeezing the jock’s arm until he let you go. You pulled your wrist back to your chest, your brows knitting together as your lips fell into a pout.

The metalhead pushed his lunchbox into your stomach, his eyes dark as they scoured your face. “How about you go wait in the van, princess? The keys are inside the box,” he murmured, his expression leaving no room for protest. You hesitated a moment, causing him to jerk his chin smoothly toward the front door. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, his jaw set.

Suddenly shy, you dropped your gaze to the floor. Everything was swimming around you, the party too loud and the room too hot and your hands were so sticky with punch. You’d never felt more overwhelmed.

Nodding once, you gripped the handle of the lunchbox for dear life as you scurried out of the house. By the time the night air hit you, you realized you were still holding the cup, most of it empty as it coated your hand and stained the skin. You choked back the rest of its contents, crumpling it in your hand and tossing it into the grass. Eddie’s van was parked across the street, looking out of place amongst the other cars.

–

You were almost asleep in the passenger seat by the time Eddie threw the door open, scaring you into waking up. He was obscured by the lights of the house behind him as he climbed inside. “Eddie, what happened?” you croaked as he tried to jam the keys into the ignition, his hands practically vibrating.

You gasped as he turned to look in the center console. His right eyebrow was caked entirely with blood, a gash splitting it nearly in two. Blood was smeared in a trail down his face, following the curve of his nostril and making its way over his pale throat and to his shirt collar. He plucked a cigarette carton out of the glove box, the streetlamp illuminating the smears of blood across his pale fingers. His knuckles were blown apart.

“Eddie,” you murmured, reaching across the center console hesitantly. He still didn’t look at you, rummaging around for his zippo. The house beyond was relatively quiet, no signs of a party other than all the cars parked along the sidewalk. Jason walked into view of the upstairs bathroom window, glaring at the van before pulling down the shade. His face was smeared with blood, his costume ruffled.

The chains on Eddie’s jacket sleeve jingled as he lit the cigarette, taking a drag with a sigh. “Eddie.” You hesitated for a moment before you pressed your palm into the worn leather. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder jump under your fingertips–you rarely ever touched him. It just felt like a boundary the two of you never crossed. “Y-you didn’t have to do that,” you said.

The heater and the radio jumped to life, Dio blasting in the small space. Eddie’s brows furrowed as he turned to study your face. “Of course I had to,” his voice was surprisingly soft. His hand came out of nowhere, a warm thumb wiping your cheek. Your nerves must have been fried, because you leaned into his touch without thinking about it. “That idiot made you cry, couldn’t just let him get away with it.”

You pulled in a ragged breath, a bit surprised by the amount of tenderness in his voice. His hand was so warm, his fingers wiping away the lines of makeup that ran down your cheeks when you cried. Shaking fingers brought the cigarette back to his pink lips, you watched him take a drag and blow the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can we go?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as your throat tightened. It was all you could do to keep from crying, you didn’t even know why you wanted to cry this time.

He smiled, nodding as he pulled away from the curb like a maniac. His hand dropped from your face, turning the radio up until the heavy sound of a guitar riff was blasting through the speakers.

—

Apparently it was Wayne’s night off, so the trailer was off-limits for a late night sanctuary. That was how you ended up at the quarry, the side door pulled open as you and Eddie sprawled out in the back of the van. You’d guzzled a bottle of water as soon as you parked, already starting to feel like a bit of a human being again.

Eddie had cleaned up his face with the bandana he kept in his back pocket. The gash in his eyebrow looked painful, but he kept assuring you it was fine. He sat against the wall of the van as he wiped his knuckles, the largest one on his right hand slightly torn.

It was like once you all had crossed the barrier of touch, Eddie didn’t want to stop. He just kept touching you, be it a hand brushing against your arm or his leg jostling yours. It felt shockingly comfortable, making you wonder why you had been so resistant to touching him before.

“Those rings must not have felt nice,” you commented absentmindedly, laying on your stomach on the carpet as you watched him. Moonlight flooded in the van through the open door, glinting off the silver that adorned his fingers.

He smiled, flexing his hands as he looked down at them. “Carver didn’t seem too excited about them,” he murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You’d cleaned most of the makeup off your face on the drive to the quarry using a baby wipe you kept in your purse. He hardly ever saw you with a clean face, the moonlight revealing a few blemishes on your skin. The urge to cover your cheeks still lingered, but it felt nice to have it off.

“Thanks for like, defending my honor and stuff,” you murmured, looking down at your chipped nail polish. “You really didn’t have to do that, Eddie.”

The idea that he would go out of his way to fight Jason Carver on your behalf was still hard for you to wrap your head around. Eddie loved to talk and bitch and complain about the basketball team and larger society regularly, but he wasn’t violent.

“I did.” His eyes searched yours, wide and honest as always. A joint found its way between his long fingers, he took a deep drag. You watched him through heavy eyelids as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, he continued until he’d finished nearly half the joint. “I couldn’t just let him mess with you like that, not my girl.”

My girl. My girl. My girl. The phrase went off in your head like a bell. You didn’t know if he’d said it just because he was high or if he actually meant it like that. You wet your lips with your tongue, glancing at him for a moment.

“Well, thanks,” you breathed, twirling your fingers in a loose thread on one of the weaved blankets he kept in the back of the van. You had wrapped yourself in it on multiple occasions, mostly on cold nights when you were ungodly high. But tonight, alcohol thrummed through you like liquid fire.

Eddie finished the remainder of the joint on his own, his warm brown eyes tinged with pink as his smile stretched easier. There was a fluidity to him when he was stoned, his normally theatrical mannerisms mellowing out to something that seemed less like a performance and more genuine. His movements became more languid, his lanky form sprawling out on a half-deflated bean bag. His calf rested on top of your leg.

The cassette that was playing ended, the power chords fading into silence as you heard the player whir to a stop. The water lapping at the cliff face below and the breeze rustling the foliage outside the van seemed louder, indicative of the transition from fall to winter that was soon to come.

“You want to pick the next one?” Eddie asked, his voice soft and breathy like it always got when he was stoned. It was sweet of him to ask, considering you knew that he already had a playlist of what he wanted to put on next written out in his head. He was particular about music, always wanting to be in-control of what was playing no matter where you were.

You knew he meant for you to pick from his cassette collection.

“Yeah,” you answered, a smirk starting to spread on your face. You stood up, your feet digging into the shag carpet as you crouched to avoid hitting your head. “I’ve got a Madonna tape in my purse that I’ve been wanting to listen to.”

“Madonna?” You could hear the anguish in his voice as you stepped over his long legs to reach the front. There was an air of disbelief at your choice, Eddie couldn’t stand Madonna.

You laughed, nodding as you pulled the aforementioned tape from your bag and flashing it to Eddie. “You said I could pick,” you teased, hunkering down in front of the radio to exchange the cassettes. Stunned silence filled the space behind you as you waited for the Dio tape to be spit out, you tapped the Madonna cassette against your kneecap.

What at first was silence burst into a flurry of motion behind you.

Before you could react, Eddie’s hands locked around your waist from behind and elicited a squeal from your throat as he yanked you back. “I’m not listening to Madonna,” he said, twisting his body around yours to try to snatch the tape from your hand.

You scrambled, holding the cassette out of his reach and angling your shoulders to keep him away. “Eddie! You said I could pick!” you exclaimed with a peal of laughter, feeling the length of his body pressed against the back of yours. He pulled you close with a forearm curled around your waist, reaching over your shoulder.

“Yeah, you can pick from good music!” His chin bumped the top of your head as you both fell forward from losing your balance. The floor absorbed most of the impact, Eddie’s shoulder banging into the floorboards next to you. You let out a soft grunt as Eddie landed partially on top of you, pressing you into the carpet.

“This is good music,” you insisted, digging your elbow and knees into the thick carpet so you could shimmy forward. Eddie slammed an elbow in front of your shoulder, stopping any forward movement. There was no time to redirect as he melded you into his shadows, lanky limbs moving over where you were prone. His other hand curled around your wrist, so close to taking the tape. “You’re just judgmental!”

In a last ditch effort you twisted your arm from his grip, pulling your hand under your body and pressing the tape between your stomach and the rustled blanket. “You’re not being fair!” You were still giggling, Eddie stuffed his fingers between your forearm and your stomach in an attempt to follow the path of your arm.

“It’s my van, princess,” Eddie said with a breathy laugh of his own. He lifted himself off you, letting you breathe for a moment before his hands scooped beneath your shoulders and flipped you onto your back. “I can judge however I want to.”

You tried to push him away with your feet, matching smiles on your faces as he reached for you around the assault. With a shove your legs were out of the way, his torso settling between them with your knees on either side of his ribs. He leaned over you, managing to pry the tape from your hands and slide it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

You still had some fight in you, reaching for Eddie’s pocket before he grabbed your wrists and pressed them to the floor. “Eddie!” you whined, squirming in an attempt to throw him off.

He was smiling above you with all his teeth, the two of you panting as you stared at one another. The distance between you decreased, long fingers threading through yours as his head dipped lower. You were so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip, a clear sign that he was about to ask you something. You nodded before he could, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed that you weren’t reading into things.

When he pressed his lips against yours you knew you guessed right.

You sighed into it, your eyes fluttering closed as your mouth moulded to his. Butterflies had made a home in your stomach, part of you wondering when you started having feelings for Eddie. Why did it take you so long to do something about them?

His mouth was so soft, slotting against yours in clumsy open-mouthed kisses. You both were smiling, giggling nervously when your teeth clashed or noses bumped. It was as though you both were clumsy and new to this, the anxiety of wanting to impress making you forget how to relax for a moment. His hair tickled your cheeks and neck, curling wildly in every direction. You desperately wanted to thread your fingers into it, your hands flexing against his.

A strong gust of wind blew dried leaves into the open door of the van, the chill cutting through your clothes making the two of you pull away from one another with laughs. Eddie tugged the door closed in a quick motion, leaning back on a bean bag and patting the side of his thigh in a motion to come over there.

The moonlight was diffused through the windows on the sliding side doors, illuminating Eddie in a beautiful silver as you practically crawled on your hands and knees to him. You were a bit off-balance, partially falling against his chest. He chuckled, curling an arm around your back and pulling you closer with a wide hand pressed against the curve of your spine.

“Been waiting to kiss you like this for months,” Eddie murmured, his calloused fingers tracing along your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your hands resting on the soft Corroded Coffin shirt he wore.

“Yeah?” you asked, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Part of you didn’t want to believe him, you’d thought his taste in women leaned on either far-end of the Morticia Addams to Chrissy Cunningham spectrum. Maybe you were wrong, or at least you prayed that you were. When considering the Eddie Spectrum of eligible women, you were situated somewhere near the middle.

He nodded, stamping a quick kiss to your lips. “Of course, princess,” he said, his other hand coming to rest on the curve of your thigh. Goosebumps pricked along your skin, his fingertips tracing up and down the bare section of your leg between the skirt and high socks. “And you make a very cute Velma.”

You rolled your eyes at the compliment, shrugging it off. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, eyes cast down at the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt. Shyness consumed you, it had been a while since a guy had flirted with you like this.

Well, Eddie’s fingers drawing figure-eights on the outside of your thigh felt like a little more than flirting.

One of his eyebrows lifted, disappearing beneath his bangs as he looked at you. “I do mean it.” Before you could argue with him, he pulled you into another kiss.

It was enough to take your mind off of it, your head tilting up toward his as you twisted your body closer to him. Your hips turned, the handcuffs serving as his belt buckle digging into you through the thick fabric of your skirt. Thick thighs split apart over his knee, your spine curving on instinct.

Normally, you wouldn’t have considered the back of Eddie’s van to be romantic, but now there was nowhere else you would rather be.

Unable to think of much else, the kisses became messier. The sloppy smacks of your mouth against his made you giddy, fingers curling over his shoulders and keeping him close. His hand slipped under your sweater, palm pressing into your ribs like a brand. A submissive whimper was pulled from your throat, a dizzy feeling filling your head. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of oxygen or the alcohol you’d drank earlier.

Heat was pooling between your legs, making your thighs momentarily squeeze against his. The feeling of Eddie touching you made your insecurities about how your body had changed melt away, he didn’t seem to mind the softer parts of you as much as you did. Your hands traveled to his belt and traced the silver buckle of it, making Eddie pull away with a shake of his head. “Not tonight, baby,” he murmured, a sheepish smile curling his pink lips.

Despite the small part of your mind that was still rational, it felt like a slap to the face. You stiffened in his hold as you yanked your hands back like you’d touched a hot stove. “Oh, uh, sorry. I misunderstood,” you murmured, trying to tamp down the sting of rejection. You didn’t want him to feel bad, there wasn’t anything to feel guilty for.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head again. “Trust me, I want to,” he breathed, gently cupping your cheek. Something burned in his gaze. His thumb pressed into the corner of your spit-slicked lips, his chocolate brown eyes lingering for a moment. “Just don’t want to when you’re drunk, not in the back of my van.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that made you melt, rejection fading into yet another reason you felt like you were starting to fall head over heels for Eddie. “Okay, you’re right,” you said sweetly, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb.

“You want me to pick another tape?” The silence that had fallen over the van became noticeable.

He laughed, seemingly having forgotten what had gotten the two of you tangled together in the first place. “No Madonna in the van, those are the rules,” he said, his fingers caressing your jaw. “Even for pretty girls like you.”

“Oh shut up,” you sighed, your face heating up despite yourself. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I pick Metallica.”

Eddie snorted, the width of his shoulders squaring with confidence as he kept you in the space between his arm and torso. You could feel how warm he was. “You really think so?” he asked, the soft lilt of a tease in his voice.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” It still felt like there was lightning between your ribs, electricity pooling at every juncture where you and Eddie touched.

“But, I was teasing you. It’s a Van Halen cassette… you would know that if you’d bothered to read it before you decided to wrestle me for it.” You stamped another kiss against the tip of his nose. He wrinkled it endearingly, making you smile.

“Well now I’m glad I didn’t.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #eddie is a soft boy

574 notes · View notes

tojisun · 9 months ago

Note

Biker! Simon riding in the rain. The arms on display 😩

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRThsgyQ/

i hiccupped out loud oh my goooooooorddasd

the arms.. glistening.,. the way his muscles flexed when he began drivin ghn.,,.

this is the type of shit biker!simon sends you when you ask him where is he at, your worry bubbling over because the rain is getting stronger as time crawls by.

he took shelter at a nearby petrol station, the rain having obscured too much of his vision to ride home safely, when he receives the message. unabashedly, simon sends you the video as proof that he's doing alright.

then, he writes:

just got caught up, love. give me ten and i'll be home soon <

your response comes in right away, and simon sputters in laughter, eyes devouring the incredulity buried in your reply.

> where the hell did ur jacket go??

simon types up an answer but pauses when another message comes in from you.

> find a way to stick an umbrella on ur bike otherwise take the damn car next time 😭

he can't help the barked out laugh that scratches at his throat, his mind conjuring up images of himself—big, bulky, and towering—riding along kingsway with a brolly wedged between the strings of his rucksack.

not only is it a road bike hazard but it's so utterly ridiculous that simon is willing to actually give it a try.

he looks towards spar, his lips pursed.

roger that <

—

your phone lights up with another message and you feel your shoulders loosen up, worry subsiding a little bit.

it had been twenty minutes after your last message was sent to simon, but he had not responded after. he said he would be home in ten, but time trickled and ran, and simon was yet to be back, so this reply makes your lungs unclench.

you swipe your phone from the coffee table to check it, only to feel faint surprise filling you up at seeing that the message was not from simon but from johnny, sent to the group chat.

you didn't even know simon was with the gang. or was he meeting up with them?

without much thought, you clicked on the message, bypassing the confusion at seeing that it was a short video so that you can watch it. maybe he has a visual on simon–

what the fuck.

it was simon, alright.

the video was taken from an empty parking lot, johnny's camera shaky as he zooms in on the familiar wrapping of simon's bike swerving into the lot and moving towards johnny. in it, you hear your friend say, "what in fresh hell–"

and you can't even fault him because, again, what the fuck.

simon's got a rainbow-coloured umbrella strapped behind him, the stick of it wobbling even with his smooth cruising. he stops his bike just in front of johnny's vantage, feet falling to the asphalt for balance, before he reaches over to flick his visor up.

"hey," simon greets normally like there's nothing incredulous in having a whole umbrella poking from his back.

"ghost, what the hell," johnny repeats, his voice teetering between horror and glee.

you watch as simon shrugs, before, "my sweetheart advised me to have one f'r the rain. can't really find faults in it, yeah?"

what–

you remembered your previous message.

fucking christ.

—

hhrewoejfr bantering my beloved

#anon #biker!simon #this is so ridiculous im actually giggling #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ask #suns

496 notes · View notes

badomensbaby · 8 months ago

Text

rules of the road. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos smut #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

264 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year ago

Text

Taking the Wheel

—

Time Written-10:47 p.m

Dick Grayson/fem!reader smut

—

Clink, clack, clink, clack. The sounds of heels faintly echoed across the long since faded parking lot, carelessly crossing through thin spaces in between cars and trucks to throw the irritating bastard off your back.

Since you didn’t had arrive with friends, and the main reason you arrived to the packed Lounge, especially on weekends, quickly failed, you were left to walk a long ways across the vehicular maze to get towards your car.

A long, irritating walk on eroded asphalt, in obnoxiously irritating footwear.

Honestly? You could’ve cared less for the foot ache, attempting to push your pace to get towards your destination, your club mood spoiled over by a new desire of getting in your warm, vacant bed at home. Your attempt at distracting your endlessly rattled mind by going towards one of the hottest clubs in the city proved to be a complete failure.

This was Gotham. You knew better than to believe you were going to enjoy a night out for clubbing, completely ignorant to the possibility of the last man you ever expected to arrive, clad in his goddamn uniform, on the search for you.

The only way you learned it was him throughout all the blaring music and strong strobe light ambiance was the roar of patrons crowding around the hottest man of the hour around the dance floor.

What a stupid plan honestly, especially with the overwhelming presence of the obnoxious vigilante following shortly behind you, wondering if you were just doing this to get a reaction out of him.

“You can stop following me now, Grayson.”

It was strangely empty tonight, how he managed to shake off the crowds to go after you alone was a question you could’ve cared less to understand or answer.

"You're walking at night? Alone? You realize you live in Gotham, right?”

You only continued walking, holding yourself with your clutch purse tucked under your shirt, your heels scraping along stray parking lot gravel.

"Aren’t you cold?" Dick asks, trying to hide his worry about you being in that dress in this sixty five degree night.

He was right, watching your head shake no, despite how you carried yourself.

"Oh, come on." Dick says in assuming defeat, only to surprise you via cutting off your path by hopping up on the nearest challenger hood, abruptly jumping in front of your path.

“You can't just walk off like nothing just happened between us." Dick asserts, meeting your aggravated stare.

“Get out of my way—“

"Look, I'm tired of giving you space. Call me clingy, I don’t care. We need to talk about what happened, right now." The words sound more desperate than he intended, other than stern and demanding.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You mutter, attempting to continue your walk before he holds a hand out in front of you, preventing you from squeezing past him.

"There’s always something to say,” Dick says, hoping you’d try to look back at him.

You’re clearly hurting more than you’re letting on. He can’t really blame you.

You’re no party girl, but you are a girl he hurt. Throwing yourself back out into the dating pool was a typical response, even he’s done it, but he can’t let that happen this time. Not with you.

"Let's... let's talk about this somewhere safe, okay?" He asks, looking down at you. You shift your head a bit, giving him an annoyed glare.

“I wanna go home, okay?” You nearly spat back to him, insisting to yourself that you had no patience to deal with him.

Dick doesn't immediately move in response, gazing down at you with sympathy instead of irritation, such a heart throb in his pretty eyes.

He probably practiced this often every morning in the mirror ever since you broke up, keeping you hooked like a mouse with cheese, or a pretty boy who always knew what to say.

“… Okay.”

He offers his hand out, awaiting your keys in his open palm.

“At least let me drive you home.” He offers, remaining stagnant until he received the only answer he expected. It’ll make him feel a whole lot better knowing you weren’t in the worst place in Gotham right now.

You could only huff through your nose before rummaging through your purse, pulling out your keys.

“Fine,” you mutter, dropping the item into his quickly closing hand. “Just home. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Dick confirms with a hand raised before stepping off to the side, allowing you to walk ahead of him. “Promise.”

The car was warm, the heater constantly blowing warm air against your exposed back, nearly bumping back against your leather steering wheel.

The driver’s seat had long since been reclined, the material lightly squeaking in response to your sweaty bodies shuffling against each other. Lips battling in between teeth and tongue for dominance he willingly gave you, giving you the impression of control.

His body completely hidden by the suit, while you were still in your backless, black sequin party dress.

Sure, the car was private and warm, the alley was dark, the only light coming from the tiny radio screen, faintly reflecting off the various tiny black sequins of your dress, now pulled down from your torso, decorating your waist like a belt of dying stars.

You remembered the way his gloved hands impatiently unclipped the seatbelt so he could pull you across to his lap after an unprecedented, filthy make-out. The way he had purposely massaged the insides of your thighs caused electricity to shoot through you, needing you as close as physically possible, your short dress riding up precariously over your thighs.

"I should have done this sooner," Dick grunts against your painted lips while pinching your nipples in his thumbs, your nails rasping down the smooth material of his Nightwing suit, pulling it off his shoulders.

“D’you think someone will see us like this…?”

"No one's gonna be looking," Dick gasps out, his tone confident while dripping with cocky arrogance. "And if they do... who the hell cares."

Dick could barely focus on what was happening outside the car as it was.

For some reason, that thought made this all the more exciting. Not that the thought of being seen with a beautiful woman in Nightwing’s lap ever seemed like a bad thing.

“You looked amazing in this dress..." he runs a hand along the curve of your hip.

"But you look a lot better without it."

You’d physically cringe if you weren’t so damn aroused. Only someone like him could pull off cheesy one liners about eighty six percent of the time.

"So do something about it,” you whisper, nipping his bottom lip in your teeth, nearly contemplating on drawing blood once he chuckled.

"With pleasure, Princess.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifted you slightly with such ease, allowing him to pull his hard cock from the torturous material that suffocated him.

It would’ve been a much quicker process to undress if he randomly decided to arrive in that god awful disco suit, but it was far too late to complain now.

Prep was limited to the pleasant view of Dick stuffing three fingers into your warm hole, smirking at your hiss before raising them to his mouth, making a show of gathering his own spit while tasting you, before giving the tip of his red, angry cock a few quick strokes.

His fingers hooked your thin, messy panties to the side, hiding his mused smile from your gaze upon hearing your terribly hidden whimper as you felt the soft, blunt tip poking at your opening. A large gasp of air quickly invaded and evaded your lungs as you pushed down on him, feeling him splitting you open inch by torturously thick inch.

His own lust begged the rest of his consciousness to push further into you, aching to stuff the rest of himself inside your wet, greedy cunt. Luckily, you listened to your own thoughts, sinking yourself the rest of the way until you were properly seated, your bare thighs resounding against his with limited time to adjust.

"Holy-" He finds himself whining out, nearly crumbling apart from your silky, sweet cunt gripping him like a damn vice. Incidentally, his grip on your thong tightened after an involuntary thrust, forcing the weak band to snap apart.

The man could’ve cared less, carelessly tossing the ruined garment before gripping your hips with both hands, fingers hooking along your dress as an additional anchor to feverishly fuck you, hearing your breathing shift into quick, eager moans.

He wanted to take control so bad, but he was losing it before he even began.

The moans he emitted were heavenly, the muscles in his throat constricting as his head tilts back against the rest. He groans out your name in a delightful sigh, his fingers digging into your plush ass.

Lipstick prints littered his neck, eyes squeeze shut behind his domino mask.

“God, I've missed you,” the vigilante whimpers out, admiring your silvery necklace clink along the valley of your perfect, juicy tits bouncing erratically close to his chest, accompanied by the jingle of your matching bangles as you sunk your nails deep into the muscles along his back.

Dick's heavy lidded eyes gazed at your flushed face, your cheeks tinted pink with heavy, orgasmic blush. Your mascara stained lashes littered with cloudy black tears, bits of dappled glitter in the corners of your eyes, your signature touch, remaining poised along your perfect face. The picture he always looked forward to taking after every successful date night.

"Do you feel how much I've missed you?" Dick grumbles against your shoulder, his voice breathless, despite his best efforts to control his emotions. “Feel how hard, how deep, just fucking into this pussy? That’s all you baby.” The seemingly endless cooes against your neck render endless shivers down your spine, garnering the exact reactions he wanted from you; straining against the tight clench of your eager cunt.

"Oh-God. Fuuuck yes, missed you so much, princess,” Dick whispers, his tone filled with lust and excitement. He teetered on the edge of begging you to bite him again, to mark his neck up however with as many nips as you please, eager to see such raw evidence of your teeth marks in the morning.

“Mph— take it, baby. F-fucking take it all.”

You could only moan in response to his many words against his neck, your painted eyes nearly fluttering closed as you persist on your relentless pace. He was enjoying this a little too much, as much as you were, if not more.

Amidst the mind numbing euphoria of fucking his ex girlfriend in her own car, calloused hands full of black sequins and exposed skin, even he was calling himself an idiot in his own mind as he whimpers a lot louder than he intended within your shared ecstasy.

He was a damn idiot, thinking only about how much he’s hated being in a relationship with anyone except you. How much you’ve grown to become his favorite person; the one woman he needs every damn night. Every second of the damn day.

And if he wants to prove it by having you ride his cock in the seat of a car parked in a secluded alleyway, so be it. He’ll spoil you with a white plush bed caked in rose petals once after you agree to get back together with him.

"Ba-Baby..." Dick croaks through his stutter, his voice cracking slightly as he watches you come to an abrupt halt to his dismay.

A weak, pathetic grunt spews from his lips as you roll your hips, rocking along his lap, his bruised Adam’s apple bobbing after each whimper and whine. "Don’t stop—don’t stop. Shiiit, I’m begging you—“

His words muffle in a quick second as you stuff your ruined, bunched up thong into his mouth, cerulean eyes widening in surprise by boldness.

Many times he’s taken the lead, regardless over where your horny selves ended up. Any recollection of him doing this to you quickly faded once you locked eyes, his brows raised in surprise and submission to your taunt, prideful expression, lipstick smeared lips scowling in annoyance.

Right now, right now you wanted nothing more than to take out your frustrations on him. Even if it was one of the least violent thoughts you had when it came to him, you compensated via heavy scratches and relentless bites on his neck, and now this.

He wouldn’t be whining like such a bastard in a rut without your sweet, creamy pussy downgrading him from an arrogant, cocky, fearless vigilante into a raspy, quivering disciple. Bright, pretty putty in your hands.

Your hands grasped along the back of his head, purposefully frazzling his sweaty, perfect locks of hair as you eagerly chased another kiss. Your hands gripped his hair tighter causing him to take a sharp intake of air in.

You wouldn’t be such a quivering mess without the constant spear of his hard, delicious cock. A victim to this nearly endless cycle of ‘Fuck now, ask questions later.’

‘Or, just fuck some more later.’

You knew this, and you knew he’d give you what you wanted first before you even considered the idea of forgiving him.

“I need you to- fuck, j-just shut up. Shut up a-and keep going, Dick. Keep— Keep going. Just- Just keep fucking me.”

He stares straight ahead at the rich goddess amidst the fogged up windshield in front of him, his hands reinforcing his grasp along your thighs.

Obediently, he picked up the pace, the fat head hitting directly on your sweet spot much rougher and faster with intentions to leave you bruised, hoping you’d allow him to care for you for the rest of the week shortly after.

He moaned much louder against the damp, pheromone laced fabric, swallowing up your sickeningly sweet venom while he pistons his hips, making his soaking wet, twitchy balls constantly smack against your overstretched cunt.

Oh, if only you knew how much you drove Richard Grayson wild, if only you knew.

Hell, what was the argument even about? Neither of you could barely remember anymore.

#dick grayson #dick Grayson x reader #Dick Grayson x reader smut #dick grayson x female!reader #Dick Grayson smut #Gotham knights dick Grayson #based off Gotham knights dick Grayson but #yk #imagine whoever you want #yeah don’t ask much #I’m trying out Dick too #Don’t mind meeeeee #he’s not my favorite Robin but like #he aight #🌝

1K notes · View notes

bad268 · 6 months ago

Note

HELLO

I'm in love with ur arvid linblad stories...

Could u please do one where its the first time he brings reader to a race and shes a bit shy and the other guys are teasing him abt it cos they didn't think he could pull someone and then they see how cute they are

+ Heyy I loved ur arvid linblad x reader!!

Could u do one where he is super excited for Silverstone and no one knows why until the weekend where he walks in with his gf and all the prema guys are surprised and then they see how cute they are together. -@romantic-stylezz

Passenger Princess (Arvid Lindblad X Fem! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (HELLO THANK YOU ILY BOTH <3 I hope yall don't mind that I combined these)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid (and Dino, Gabriele, Sebastian, Luke, Laurens, and Tim by association)

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 1424

Summary: Arvid's friends didn't think he could pull her.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Arvid’s insta from May 26, 2024)

Every British driver was excited for Silverstone, but Dino was convinced that Arvid was a little over the top. Dino could not figure it out for the life of him, and Arvid did not peg him as the ultra-patriotic type. Dino was going to get to the bottom of it.

When they arrived in the United Kingdom, it was like Arvid disappeared anytime they were not at the track. Dino even tried looking around the hotel for Arvid, but he was just gone. The team didn’t know either. They just assumed he was staying with family.

Media day came around, and Arvid came running into the trailer almost late. He tried his best to sneak in through the back, but Dino caught him immediately.

“So you think that since you’re at your home race, you can sleep in and stay with your family longer?” Dino chuckled as he shoved against Arvid’s shoulder. Dino didn’t notice the blush spreading on Arvid’s cheeks as he continued teasing. “Did you enjoy a calm morning and breakfast with your family? Are they gonna come pick you up after too for supper?”

“Actually, my morning was pretty hectic,” Arvid chuckled as he walked in step with Dino for the track walk. “My alarm didn’t go off, so I didn’t wake up my girlfriend for her test-”

“Woah, don’t get all delusional on me,” Dino joked, “You’ve never mentioned a girlfriend before.”

“No one’s ever asked,” Arvid shrugged as he ran to catch up with his engineer to look over data. Dino didn’t even have a chance to question it. Did he believe it? No. Did he think it was a cheap coverup? Oh yeah, Dino just needed to get to the bottom of it.

They didn’t have a free chance until they were wrapping up after qualifying. Both of them did well, qualifying first (Arvid) and third (Dino). They had just finished up the debrief, and Arvid dipped out faster than any of the team could blink. It wasn’t until Dino went out to the employee parking lot with Gabriele and Sebastian that he saw Arvid still hanging around. Dino was about to run up and scare him, but he noticed Arvid was on the phone. Like a normal group of friends, they all decided to listen in on his call.

“Qualifying was good,” He chuckled as he kicked at a few rocks on the asphalt. He paused for a second before chuckling again, “Yes. I know. Thank you, lovey.” The boys were confused. Who the hell was he talking to? Maybe Arvid wasn’t talking out of his ass about a girlfriend earlier in the week. The trio looked between each other before Arvid started talking again. “Are you almost here? We can go out tonight and celebrate your test…Okay, I’ll let you drive safely for the rest of the way. I have to confront some eavesdroppers. I’ll see you when you get here. I love you.”

Busted, they all thought.

Arvid hung up the phone with his beloved girlfriend, who he would have rather talked to for eternity, but he also knew his friends would have questions. He can understand why. He never mentioned a girlfriend, nor has he mentioned any interest in a girl. It’s mainly because he always had you, and he never felt the need to say anything. Also, no one asked him about a girlfriend.

Now, he was going to come clean.

“You can ask now,” Arvid sighed as he turned around and looked straight at the group of three.

“Who, what, when, where, why,” Dino rattled off quickly as he approached Arvid.

“And how!” Sebastian shouted running to catch up with Dino and Arvid, leaving Gabriele to calmly walk over on his own. “I need the tea!”

“Who, her name is Y/n. What, she’s my my girlfriend. When, since 2022. Where and why, I don’t know the questions,” Arvid rattled back quickly as all three boys surrounded him.

“Where you met and why you hid it, obviously,” Gabriele stated in a blatant tone.

“We grew up together. She was my neighbor for the longest time, and when I left for the Italian F4 championship, she confessed and ended up joining me toward the end of the season. Why I didn’t tell you, you didn’t ask.”

“You two were dating when we were F3 teammates, and I didn’t even know?”

“She confessed first? That’s cute.”

“Why are we just now finding out?”

“Tough luck,” Arvid laughed as he started going through the follow-up questions of his friends. “Yeah, she confessed. Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just I thought you would have been the one to confess,” Sebastian replied quickly, thinking he offended Arvid. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Arvid chuckled, “And you’re just now finding out because you decided to listen in on my phone call now. If you would have waited about 12 more hours, you would’ve met her in person.”

“Is this her first race?” Dino asked still in shock.

“No, did you not listen?” Arvid teased. “She came for the last half of my Italian F4 season in 2022, and a couple of F4 and Euro 4 races in 2023. Whatever ones she could do with her schedule since she was still in secondary school. She was also at the MACAU race in 2023, I forgot about that.”

“So she just didn’t come to your first or second F3 seasons?” Dino didn’t mean to sound so snappy, but he was confused. Just as Arvid was getting ready to reply, a car honking caught all of their attention. The driver rolled down their window, they were met with a random girl except she wasn’t random to Arvid.

“It’s a lot easier to go to European races than it is to go everywhere, especially during my last years of secondary school,” She said with a laugh. “Do you boys need a ride? I’ve got space. It’s not some fancy car, but it gets the job done.”

She wasn’t kidding. Her old Honda Civic looked like it had seen better days, but it still ran, and that’s what mattered. Arvid shook his head dismissively as he walked around to the passenger side.

“Oh, first you say she confessed, and now you’re saying you’re the passenger princess? That’s crazy,” Sebastian teased as he walked up to the door.

“Passenger princess and proud,” Arvid boasted as he immediately took over the music. “Are you guys getting in or not?”

“Hold up, I’m still wrapping my head around this.”

“Dino, either get in the car, and we’ll drop you off at the hotel or we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ok, I’m getting in.”

The following day, the talk of the F2 paddock was that Arvid had a girlfriend. Once again, no one believed it. Dino was the one running around telling anyone who would listen, and they definitely thought he was going crazy. Sebastian and Gabriele weren’t making a big deal, so everyone thought Dino was making it up. There was no way Arvid had a girlfriend. He was the type to want to flaunt a girlfriend if he had one, so clearly, he didn’t have one. It wasn’t until the two walked into the paddock that, suddenly, everyone went quiet.

Arvid walked through the scanner in his Red Bull kit and waited for Y/n to scan her pass. It was obvious to everyone that the Prema kit she was wearing was not her own. Once she got through, her hand was in Arvid’s as he led her to the Prema trailer. No one could believe their eyes.

Dino stood off to the side with a couple of drivers as they all watched the two lovers laugh at something before disappearing in the trailer.

“I don’t get it,” Luke cleared the air as he still focused on the now-closed door they went in. “I don’t believe they’re together.”

“Yeah,” Laurens chuckled in agreement. “I don’t see him as the type to pull her.”

“Oh, just wait until you find out the racing driver is a passenger princess,” Dino chuckled off-handedly as he started to walk away.

“You are lying!” Tim shouted after him, wanting to hear more details.

“Nope,” Dino stated with a pop. “I’m not spilling everything. You all thought I was lying about his girlfriend! Why would I give you more tea?”

“Fine, I’ll just ask Sebastian,” Tim shrugged off as he walked off with Laurens and Luke following closely behind him.

“No!” Dino shouted as he ran after them. “Wait for me!”

~~~ Part 2->

~~~~~

#arvid lindblad x reader #arvid lindblad #arvid x reader #formula 3 x reader #formula 3 imagine #formula 3 #prema team #prema racing #red bull f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 #dino beganovic #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

118 notes · View notes

crescenthistory · 3 months ago

Note

#3 with Lee please!!!

hi sweetheart! in reference to your other ask, no worries about forgetting to put the letter, and thank you for your request<33 i love any and all excuses to write for my love lee

Prompt: E.3 "Is this okay?"

Words: 2k

Warnings: not proofread, smutty (mdni), kissing, touching/groping, nipple play, implied oral, very fluffy foreplay, hair pulling and skin scratching (lee receiving, he is a masochist you cannot change my mind), small choking reference, doting, not a lot of dialogue, cannibalism and homelessness references (bestie this is bones & all)

Note: in my mind, this is you and i, we've grown comfortable here lee and reader's first time. also, asking consent is so hot

Your nose is flooded with the scent of wildflowers and gasoline as the thick air lays heavily around you.

You chose a shabby bar nearby for dinner, the kind of place where people don't look too closely at strangers. It had been loud inside, stifling. The jukebox in the corner was playing some old country tune that didn’t quite fit the mood, but you did not bother to care. Lee led you to a booth toward the back, hand firmly in yours. The wooden seat stuck to the backs of your thighs and your eyes flicked all over, trying to take the place in.

When you ordered, you made a point of brushing your hand against his. The tiniest spark, but enough to let him know what you were thinking. When you leaned into him to talk over the noise of the bar, your lips too close to his ear, it had taken everything in you to pull back and act like it wasn’t deliberate. You saw the way his eyes lingered, how his hand tightened around the glass he was holding.

Lee always picked up on those small gestures, especially the ones you barely knew you were making. It almost scared you how much this boy could read your mind, how well he knew you by now – but even more so, it enticed you and softened your aching heart.

The night flurried away with the familiarity of the unfamiliar. The half-decent meal was devoured, a few drinks some guy sent your way was shared by you and Lee, your hands never not on the other's skin somehow. Eventually, you felt you had waited enough to pull him with you out of there, longing for fresh air, silence and him.

Months ago, you decided on a schedule where you try to scrape in enough money to stay in a shitty motel one night every two weeks. It came about when your back pain worsened and Lee grew worried for you, even when you told him it was no problem.

"If we can ease your pain in any way, that's what we're gonna do, sweetheart." You were simply not allowed any objections.

Motel nights were a small luxury, so it was bound to create some excitement, but recently it had been more than that. It gave you a different kind of privacy than the one you have grown used to on the road, and it created a new tension between you, one you were eager to snap. Stolen kisses building to something more.

Neither of you spoke much on the walk to the motel, Lee's arm around your shoulders. The parking lot was dim, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering every now and then, casting shadows across the worn asphalt. Your mind was racing so loudly that you were sure he could hear it, but you still couldn't help the content smile over your lips. You loved your little life with him, however unconventional and occasionally bloody, and you felt closer and closer to him every day.

Once safe inside the room, you sighed at the safety of a locked door and no strange men with travelling eyes and loud laughters. It was quiet save for the distant hum of the highway and the soft rasp of Lee's breath, two of your favourite sounds.

That very soft rasp grew closer as Lee came up behind you, tentatively circling his arms around your waist, drawing your back into his chest. His fingers stroked against your sides and you leaned into him with all your weight, tilting your head slightly to the side. Lee clearly took it as an invitation, leaning down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. He kissed from the junction of your shoulder and neck up to a spot behind your ear he found a few weeks back that had made you moan, in search of those same beautiful sounds. You gave him what he wanted, and you could feel his smile against your ear.

"You are so beautiful, love," he whispered, fingers travelling under the hem of your shirt, barely skimming the skin there.

"Just beautiful, hm?" you teased. You turned around in his grip, body still flush against his, and placed your hands on the back of his neck to play with his hair.

His gaze bore into yours, darkening. "Beautiful, stunning, hot, unbelievably, painfully sexy. Whichever you prefer, darling, they're all true."

You smiled, bringing your face closer and closer to his, still keen on teasing him a bit. When you spoke, your lips almost brushed his. "I prefer yours actually."

He groaned at your words, closing the gap between you with almost bruising force, desperately kissing you.

You were never this brazen, treating this thing between you with delicacy, indulging yourself in kisses and touches, but no more. Tonight, though, whether it was your slight tipsiness, the motel or just that the longer you were around Lee, the more his every move sparked you up – you needed him.

Lee moved the two of you without breaking away from your lips, backing you up against the wall beside the bed. His hands were splayed against the bare flesh of your sides, kneading it sensually as he tried to press himself even closer to you. His lips moved against yours sloppily, his tongue swirling against your bottom lip and teeth, seeking yours inside your mouth. It was always messy with Lee, and you hadn't expected to be driven so crazy by it, but you were overwhelmed with it, trying to take in more and more of him.

When his lips trailed down your jaw to kiss the un-touched side of your neck, you realised you had forgotten to turn on the light. The room was lit up only by the purple hazy motel sign outside the window, and Lee looked painfully good bathed in it. Even from your angle, where you only saw his shoulder, part of his back and his hair with your hand tangled in it – it was perfect.

Lee tugged at your shirt and helped you out of it in seconds, fingertips dragging across your skin, leaving fire in their wake. The cool sensation of the wall against your back mixed with the heat of his hands made your thoughts become incoherent, now only filled with Lee.

You hooked your own fingers into the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer, crushing your lips to his in a way that told him everything. You slip your hands underneath it, letting your nails drag along his barely-there abs, up to his throat that you lightly squeeze. Lee's lips smiled into yours as he gave a soft moan that drove you to rip his shirt off as well, skin finally against skin.

His skin was softer than it had any right to be, given the life he leads, given the way his knuckles were scarred and his heart was walled off from everyone except you. You kissed him harder, like you were trying to draw him out from the place he always disappeared to inside himself. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you in, his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to make you gasp against his mouth.

And God, the way his mouth moved against yours – slow, then rough, then soft again, like he was trying to find some rhythm in the chaos of it all. Lee kissed like someone who had been starved for touch his whole life, as if this, you, were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

His mouth disappeared from yours again, pulling a soft whine from you that he chuckled at, breath tickling your skin. He placated you as he quickly dragged it down to your chest, licking stripes and leaving small bites in his path. How funny that the same teeth that tore flesh from bone could be so loving, so carefully enticing when on you. One hand on the small of your back, arching your hips into his ever so slightly, and another going up to your breast, palming and squeezing, with his thumb brushing over your nipple. In similar fashion, his doting mouth finally closed around your other nipple, flicking his tongue before drawing increasingly larger circles with it.

Your hands were back in his hair at that, clutching at it and tugging just barely – at the feel of his moan against your skin, you pulled harder, making his movements more desperate. Your chest was pressed against his mouth, squirming your hips against his body that was still flush with yours.

His teeth grazed over your sensitive skin and you mewled, sputtering his name between gasps. He looked up without his lips or tongue not leaving you and seemed to get drunk on the sight of you. When you flashed him a smile his expression immediately mirrored yours, revelling in the moment with you. The best of friends, venturing together into this, whatever it may be. His lips moved to your other breast, fingers taking over to placate the wet skin there.

"Lee," you whispered desperately. "I need you."

His face was up by yours again in a heartbeat, eyes searching yours for a second before crashing his lips onto yours once more, taking your bottom lip in between his and sucking. Meanwhile each of his thumbs find your nipples, rubbing circles on them, eliciting another moan into his mouth.

"You need me, sweet girl?" He asked in between kisses and you just nodded against him.

"Are you sure?"

You pulled back at that, hands moving from his hair to cup his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that had begun to grow there. He looked at you intensely, but you didn't see insecurity in his eyes – just curiosity, want, as if he needed to learn everything about you, right in this moment.

"I've always needed you, Lee. And I always will. Please."

He grinned, kissing you once, slowly, before dropping to his knees, kissing and licking across your chest down to your stomach, cheekily biting you to the left of your belly button. His hands moved to grab your ass, kneading quickly before tucking his thumbs into the bandwidth of your skirt, teasing it down a few centimetres. When you arched your back from the wall to help, he pulled it all the way down to the floor, helping you step out of it.

You were left leaning against the wall, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, wearing just your panties. Both of your breaths were coming in shallow gasps as Lee placed soft, sweet kisses to your upper thigh. He looked so beautiful on his knees before you and you moved a hand to touch his chin, making him look up at you. The amount of adoration pouring from his eyes made your stomach flip almost as much as feeling his breath on your most intimate parts did.

Maintaining eye contact, Lee kissed right above your panties, upper lip on your burning hot skin, lower touching the lacy fabric. His fingers teased the strings on the sides of your hips, a few of them slipping beneath, stroking your hips.

"Is this okay?" Lee asked. You nodded enthusiastically, aching for him, but his eyes still seemed inquisitive, wanting verbal confirmation.

"Yes, so okay. I want you."

His eyes darkened and he grinned mischievously. "Say it again."

"I want you, Lee, please."

That was the last bit of encouragement he needed from your desperate voice and another harsh pull at his hair. Lee leaned in to kiss you through your panties before finally pulling them off.

In the burning darkness the two of you created, you had never felt so full, loved and safe – all because of Lee.

119 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 22 days ago

Text

The Unseelie Court (13/16)

The Adrian County morgue parking lot was a rectangle of crumbling asphalt with enough room for six cars, though there was only one other in it at present. Scully sat in the driver’s seat, wondering if this move had been the right one.

She had called Mulder’s apartment from her mother’s, though he hadn’t answered, which had been, she’d decided, for the best. She’d left him an abridged message, letting him know that she’d be a few hours later than she expected, but that she’d have information from the Daly Carmichael case to share with him when she got there.

At least, she hoped she would. She looked down at her open laptop at the bloodwork results from the state crime lab. There was still nothing that pointed to cause of death, but there were a few unusual chemicals found in Daly Carmichael’s blood that didn’t add up. And she had decided to come down to Adrian County on her own to address the problem. A fact that she knew Mulder would be less than pleased with.

It wasn’t just that Skinner had told her to keep him out of Adrian County—at least, it wasn’t all that. Mulder wasn’t the most gifted tactician, not when enthusiasm or worry informed his choices. And anyway, the enemy Mulder thought they were dealing with wasn’t who Mulder thought he was. For the sake of everyone’s safety and career, it was best if Scully handled this particular confrontation on her own. As sure as Mulder had been about cases in the past when he’d turned out to be right, Scully was certain about at least one thing about this one: she would be—at least relatively—safe.

She closed her laptop, slid it into her bag, and headed for the morgue.

***

Mulder walked through the door of his apartment, balancing several full bags of groceries. He didn’t have a lot of meals in his culinary arsenal, but he’d honed a decently respectable chicken marsala for a college girlfriend, and was hoping he could still pull it off. He’d promised Scully that he’d make the weekend worth her while, and that would extend to more than just bedsport. If he wanted to keep Scully happy long term, he would need to do more than he’d done in other relationships. He at least had to try.

Setting everything down on his kitchen countertop, he looked at his watch. 1:22 pm.

He’d expected Scully to call to let him know she was on her way for the last hour or so, but he had yet to hear from her, and the one time he’d called her cell phone just to check in, from the vegetable aisle of the grocery store (did she like asparagus? He couldn’t remember), her phone had been turned off.

He put away the refrigerated groceries and, before tackling the rest, he pulled his cell phone out, unable to wait any longer to hear her voice.

Margaret Scully answered the phone with a polite, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Scully?” Mulder said, knowing that while this wasn’t going to be one of those uncomfortable calls when he had to share bad news, it was still going to be awkward because of the conversation she and Scully had had the night before. “It’s Fox Mulder.”

“Hello, Fox,” she said, and there was an expectant, knowing lilt to her tone.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home,” he went on, “but can I please speak to Dana?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Scully said. “Dana left almost two hours ago. I think she called and left you a message. Did you not get it?”

Mulder felt a jolt of relief. “No,” he said. “She must have called my home phone. I’ve been out all morning.” Mulder did some mental math. If she’d left almost two hours before, she should have already arrived.

“I’ll check my messages,” he said. “But in the meantime, do you happen to know if she was making any pit stops on her way back to DC?”

“She wasn’t terribly specific with me,” Mrs. Scully said. “You know how she can be. But she did mention having to stop by the office and then make a drive of several hours. I got the sense it was for work. She had gotten what seemed like an important email just before she left.”

“Did she say anything else? Which case it was? A name maybe?”

“Just what I overheard when she left you a message. David Carmichael?”

A sense of unease washed over him, and he thought of his dream the night before. In it, Scully, still wearing the tiara and naked as a jaybird, had walked up to the willow tree, laughed shrilly, then touched the carving of the broken crown. She’d disappeared instantly, and Mulder had known she wasn’t coming back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully, I’ve got to go,” he said and hung up before she’d said goodbye.

He made his way quickly to his desk, and sure enough, his answering machine light was on. He pressed the button.

“Hey Mulder, it’s me. Listen, I’m going to be later than I expected. At least by a few hours. My phone is off, but I’ll check in when I get a chance. I’m–I expect to have an update on the Daly Carmichael case when I get there. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

With an escalating sense of disquiet, Mulder grabbed his sidearm and his keys. Scully had gone to Adrian County, he was absolutely certain. And owing to her pit stop at the office and geography, she only had about an hour’s head start. With any luck, he could catch her before she got there. Before Aeon Greene, the Unseelie courtier, got to her.

***

Scully stepped into the morgue building, her shoes clacking against the tile floor. As she approached the autopsy bay, a man about ten years her senior stuck his head out the door.

“Thought I heard somebody,” he said kindly. “Can I help you? You probably don’t want to come in here.”

Scully flashed him her badge. “I’m looking for Aeon Greene,” she said.

The guy looked confused. “Who?”

Scully returned his look of confusion. “Let’s start over. Who are you?”

“Dr. Rosen,” the man said, pulling off a pair of nitrile gloves and coming all the way out into the hallway. “The coroner.”

“Ah,” Scully said, reaching out a hand. “We didn’t get a chance to meet. I’m Special Agent Scully, the forensic pathologist who did the autopsy on Daly Carmichael.”

“Oh, the cold case. Yeah. Open and shut, huh? What can I do for you again?”

“I’m looking for Aeon Greene. Your autopsy technician?”

“My what?”

“Your diener,” she explained, hoping the man wasn’t as dense as he seemed.

He looked at her a moment and then busted out laughing. “In this ass-backwater hamlet? God, if only. I’m sorry, Agent. It’s just me here. Has been for the last six years.”

Scully stared at him for a moment and then from behind her, heard:

“Agent Scully?”

She turned to see Aeon Greene standing in the middle of the hallway behind her. He wasn’t in scrubs and a lab coat, but rather dressed head to toe in a long black garment that appeared, when the light hit it right, to be a diaphanous and shimmering green.

When she turned to glance back at Dr. Rosen, he was staring at her expectantly, perhaps somewhat dumbly, as though frozen in place.

“Dr. Rosen, you’re going back on vacation,” said Aeon, and without a word, Dr. Rosen turned on his heel and made directly for the building doors, walking out without looking back.

Scully turned back to Aeon. “Neat trick,” she said.

“I have more,” Aeon said with a sinister smile.

“So it would seem,” she said. She thought back to all of Mulder’s various warnings and folkloric edicts. She would need to carefully select her words.

Aeon cocked his head to the side. “What can I do for you, Dana Katherine?”

***

Mulder took the corner too fast and nearly spun out. Reluctantly, he eased up on the gas. US-220 wasn’t nearly as slick as it had been when they’d first taken the highway into Adrian, but he would do Scully no good if he crashed and ended up in a ditch, or worse. Once the road straightened out, he reached again for his phone.

“It’s Agent Mulder,” he said into the receiver. “Anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Deputy Avery. Mulder could hear the low murmur of voices from the department bullpen. He’d called the Adrian County emergency switchboard. When dispatch couldn’t connect Mulder with the Sheriff, he’d asked for Deputy Avery. Mulder had explained that his partner was headed to Adrian County and that he hoped she’d stop by the Sheriff’s Department when she got into town. That she had information on the Daly Carmichael case.

“She’s not here, Agent Mulder. And I put out a BOLO on her vehicle, but we got nothing so far.”

“I’m afraid she might be in trouble,” Mulder said.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Avery asked, concerned.

“To be honest,” Mulder said, shifting the phone to pinch between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not sure. But I…I want backup. Lots of it. Can you muster a team?”

“Absolutely sir!” said the deputy excitedly. If the mass of policemen hovering around the scene when Daly Carmichael had been found was any indication, this sleepy hamlet didn’t see a lot of police action. The Feds calling them in on a posse comitatus was likely the highlight of their collective year. “Where do you want us?”

Mulder tried to think of everywhere she might go. “I want a team at the beach where we found Carmichael,” Mulder explained, goosing the gas as he tore over the hill that led into the little town. “I want another at the Carmichael Estate. And I want a third at the morgue.”

“You got it.”

“Deputy? Tell your boys to exercise extreme caution.”

“What is it we’re being cautious about, agent?”

Mulder shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #the unseelie court

37 notes · View notes

dc418writes · 28 days ago

Text

|Bump in the Night|

✨Pairing✨: Tim Rockfordxblack!reader

Summary🪄: You can always count on Tim

🚨: attempted break in/breaking and entering, mention of stalking, brief mention of gun(s), language, violence (man-man), ends in fluff tho💕

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope event (I’m so sorry that it’s much later than the deadline/expected😓). Everyone please support the other works that were submitted and I hope you enjoy what I came up with🌸

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my works are imagined with a black reader, all are welcome to read💕*

Trope: friends to lovers

Hearing the familiar address come across his police scanner, Tim couldn’t care less about the lawyer that was supposed to be under his surveillance. His silver Honda Civic practically floating over the asphalt as he sped towards the apartment complex.

Specifically, yours.

“No apparent injuries to occupant. No ambulance needed.”

Tim’s grip on the wheel slightly loosens at that. Although he was still stressed not completely knowing what happened yet, at least you were currently safe and unharmed. Minutes later, his car screeches to a stop in the parking lot already occupied by a flashing patrol car.

“Detective Rockford?,” the young officer - he still couldn’t remember his name after all this time - asks slightly startled from seeing the usually stoic and aloof man. “What-?”

“Where is she?” His steps never falter and the younger officer - Davey? Casey? - has to lightly jog to catch up with the detective on a mission.

“She?”

“The victim.”

“Oh! Currently with Daniels as he does a final sweep.”

“Still nothing?,” Tim asks as they both finally arrive on your floor from their ascent up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the elevators out again. There was always something wrong with this place which is why he tried urging you to another complex.

“True it’s not perfect, but it’s not terrible. I’ll be fine Tim,” you assured with that sweet smile that could warm the coldest of hearts.

“Just some shifted furniture, nothing missing yet. We tried dusting for prints, but perp was smart enough to use gloves.”

Walking in to see your nervous expression - lip worried between your teeth as your arms wrapped around yourself - had a storm of emotions swirling he’d never experienced all at once. Relief that he could physically see you were unharmed. Rage at whoever did this. Finally, a sense of protectiveness wanting to make sure this never happened to you again.

By any means.

“T-Tim?,” you asked finally meeting his eyes. Immediately he’s crossing the few feet between you to hug you close. Gently rocking you back and forth as you savor the much needed comfort.

“Let’s uh give them some privacy Kaz,” Daniels whispers. “Kazinski!,” Tim thought as he finally remembered the man’s name. Wow he was way off.

“What happened?”

“Well,” you sigh, “I came home and the door was cracked open. Something didn’t feel right this time though-,”

“Wait, this time? Someone’s done this before?”

You slowly nod. “Well, then again I could’ve accidentally-,”

“We both know you didn’t leave it open. You never leave your door open or unlocked.”

Too many times you were the one reminding him to make sure he’d locked up both his house and car. Always on the go with mind focused on other things, there’s a very strong chance he’d leave his head home if it wasn’t attached to him.

“Why didn’t you call me?,” he asks with deep brown eyes full of concern and slight hurt.

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your case. Plus it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he sighs. Your hyper-independence just might be the death of him. “Grab some clothes and whatever else you need, you’re staying with me.”

“Tim-,”

“If you think I’m leaving you here tonight you don’t know me as well as I thought,” he simply counters sitting in one of your wooden dining room chairs waiting for you to get your things with arms crossed against his chest.

There’s no use in arguing when his mind is set - which tends to be often. All you can do is what he says swiftly turning towards your bedroom and softly padding down the short hall.

Phone to his ear, Tim can’t help the smile that forms at your sweet voice. Deep inside he feels like that giddy teenager again excited and in slight disbelief that he finally gets the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in school.

“Hey, just uh wanted to check on you. Make sure you made it in okay.”

“Yep just got the last of the groceries in,” you smile locking the door behind you. “Hey don’t pick up anything to eat! I’m making lasagna.”

This is how it’s been for the past week. Tim checking to see you made it in and how your day had gone before you both discussed your plan for dinner that night.

And he loved the domesticity of it all. Never did he think he’d say that, typically preferring to be alone so he could come and go as he pleased with no one constantly in his ear. But there was something about coming home to warm meals and music softly playing in the background that had an unexpected calm rushing over him.

Then again, maybe all those new things he was feeling - now wanting every day and wondering how he thought life was better without it - was from you.

“Sounds great, I’m gonna be a bit late getting in though so don’t wait on me to eat.”

“Oh, okay.” Your disappointed tone has him ready to quit if it’ll make you happy again. “I take it there’s good news on the case?”

“Yea and new evidence that potentially puts us closer to solving this.”

“And freeing-?”

“That I can’t discuss. You and I both know,” he softly chuckles. At your little huff he can already picture you rolling those dangerously perfect eyes.

“Okay,” you pout, “I guess I’ll see you later then. Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Saying your final goodbyes, he’s embarrassingly greeted by the smirk of officer Daniels while he leans against the doorframe of his office.

“Soo the infamous friend..,” he states with a knowing grin.

“Don’t.”

“Can’t blame you, she’s really sweet. Not to mention beautiful-,”

The mix of annoyance and anger on Tim’s face is enough to stop Daniels in his tracks making him deeply chuckle with hands up in defeat. “Relax, I come in peace.”

“Wishing you didn’t at all,” Tim mumbles causing more chuckles from the man in front of him.

“Don’t think you’ll say that after you see this.” Gently placing the folder on his desk, Tim’s brow raises as he curiously flips open the gray cover. “Pretty sure this is our guy.”

You think you’re still dreaming when you hear that first click. Another - followed by a scrape against the hardwood - has your eyes quickly opening trying to register what was happening. You can faintly make out the bedroom thanks to the sliver of yellow-gold coming from the hall light as you slowly sit up. Not finding Tim asleep in his usual recliner in the corner of the room, you wonder if it’s him finally returning home.

“Tim?!”

The heavy footsteps - seemingly pacing back and forth - pause, and you feel an uneasiness creep over you at the momentary silence. A shadow of something to come you couldn’t quite place.

As the footsteps grow closer, that unease sets off alarms at the realization that those steps were heavier than Tim’s. He doesn’t wear boots…

It’s as if the intruder senses they’re caught in that same moment increasing their speed towards your bedroom. Luckily you bound from the bed locking the door mere seconds before they reach the knob furiously twisting and banging against the door trying to enter.

Amid the pounding in your chest and ears, you’re focused enough to lock yourself in the adjoining restroom and lie in the tub with trembling hands covering your mouth. Tears slowly slipping down your cheeks while wishing for the darkness to take you before the stranger can.

On the third hard thud, the room door breaks from its hinges startling you and sending screws scattering to the floor - and no doubt chips of wood.

“I know you’re in here. Might as well come out now, it’s only a matter of time before I find you.”

That familiar voice sends goosebumps down your body and bile stinging your throat.

His laugh isn’t a humorous one stepping across the threshold. Wood creaking and cracking under his weight. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Things could be so much easier if you’d just…listen.”

The echo of your vibrating phone carries into the bathroom making more tears spring from your eyes. Tim would be home any moment coming face to face with this man who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Possibly unarmed not expecting danger in what was supposed to be his safe haven.

A danger you ultimately caused.

If something happened to Tim-

“You run to him, but he’s not even here for you! Huh, some protector.”

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d easily be ready to defend your friend. Fight for him just as he’s always fought for you.

Hearing the bed squeak, you know he’s probably leaning on it to lift the cover’s edge and peek in the space under. Not finding you there, you figure there’s only seconds before he’s barging into your hiding place and doing God knows what.

“Guess you won’t believe me until you see for yourself though.” His tone hushes to just above a whisper taking a step closer. Then another, and you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything about your heartbeat how it surely could be heard thudding in your chest. “Fine with me doll.”

Flashes of what that could mean enter your mind only making you sob harder. A sheen of sweat breaking along your body anxiously waiting on that fearful moment the life you once knew would be over.

Rather than the cracking of another broken door, you’re met with Tim’s gruff voice yelling for the intruder to freeze and allowing you to finally breathe. His trusty black handgun drawn and trained on his target daring the stranger to move. “It’s over Kane. Down on your knees with hands on your head.”

Surprisingly he follows Tim’s instructions, slowly kneeling down on one knee then the other. Once his hands are in the right position, handcuffs are being tightened around his wrist and a solid blow sent to his ribs causing Kane to painfully grunt as he keels over.

“That’s assault!”

This time his cheek receives the punch immediately reddening the tan skin under his left eye - and Tim’s knuckles in the process. “Where is she?!”

Kane just darkly chuckles. “You tell me. Aren’t you the detective?” His smug jokes are no more feeling cold metal against his temple. A quick click signaling how the weapon was ready to fire at any moment Tim chose.

“Last fucking chance! Tell me-,”

He hears your cries the same moment Daniels and Kazinski rush into the bedroom with guns drawn themselves. Immediately they take over, hoisting the slightly battered man to his feet and reading him his rights, while Tim hurries to retrieve you. His heart breaking the moment he sees you visibly shaken in the tub with tears staining your face.

“I’m here honey it’s okay,” he attempts to soothe quickly gathering you in his arms. Your face instinctively buries itself in his neck finding comfort in the scratch of his beard and smell of tobacco mixed with sandalwood and his earlier cups of coffee. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

It’s a few moments before you can find your voice again; even then it prickles climbing your throat and escapes in a hoarse whisper. “H-How did you know?”

“Your coworker told us about him. How he was banned because he came to the job every day bothering you. Daniels looked into him and we found…”

The way his Adams Apple bobs you can tell he’s struggling for his next words. Probably trying to soften a blow that would surely worsen your already destroyed mental and emotional state.

He clears his throat rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm. “There was enough evidence that led us to believe he’d try something. We rushed here as soon as we could.”

Just when you thought your heart had been through enough. You could read between the lines and knew what Tim meant by evidence, and it made that queasy, unsettled feeling return. Kane found the somewhat secluded house of your best friend, who’s to say another of your friends wasn’t next? Your family even.

Hot tears - summoned from some unknown hidden reserve - begin to soak his shoulder as he slowly rocks you back and forth. Tim’s thick arms holding your shaking body tighter. Little did you know it was as much for him as you.

“He-He’s n-never gonna stop…is he?,” you direct more so to the open air. “Everyone I know-,”

“Hey hey listen to me,” Tim gently starts. His hands slightly pushing you away before moving to caress your face so you’d have no choice but to meet his sympathetic and caring eyes. “We got him. He can’t, and won’t, do anything to you or anybody else.”

“But-,”

“Even if - and it’s a very very small if - he tried something, I love you too much to let something happen.”

Maybe it was the overwhelm of emotions from such an eventful night. Maybe it was how Tim cradled your face - practically dwarfed by his larger hands - looking at you as if you were his most prized possession given by some high deity themselves. And maybe it was your hidden feelings finding a hopeful hook to latch onto that he felt the same about you. Either way, you couldn’t stop your lips from meeting his; moving so smoothly together it’s as if you’ve done this plenty of times.

Just pulling back an inch, Tim’s quick to follow smashing your lips together again as if he was addicted already. Inwardly, it makes you giggle. Feeling fuzzy and light as if dancing on the brightest sun ray on a spring day.

“We’re gonna take him downtow- oh..”

Forgetting where you were, Daniel’s voice is a startling reminder as you quickly part turning your heated face away from the bathroom’s entrance. Meanwhile, Mr. Rockford appears dazed attempting to act anything but trying to focus on his co-worker who just said..something important? “Um…y-yea Kane! We gotta-,”

“It’s taken care of Rockford,” Daniel’s answers professionally hiding his chuckles in his rock solid chest. Wait till he gets home to tell his wife this tea. Hell, he’ll have to text her on the way this was too good. “You uh take care of things here. I’ll keep you updated. Have a good night guys.”

And just as he said, Tim’s kept to his word almost a year later. Lying in your now shared bed with you perfectly molded to his side - your new home just outside of town in the relaxing countryside - he presses a loving peck to your forehead careful not to disturb your pleasant sleep. Watching you go so long without, it gives him a new layer of joy that Kane could no longer steal that from you. Your arm slung over his middle, his chest swells looking at the square cut diamond shining on your finger just waiting for you to wake up and notice it. To say yes to the question he’s been hoping you’d give him the chance to ask for some time now.

And down the line, maybe even build your little family giving you both a reason to decorate and fill the empty room across the hall.

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x woc #Tim Rockford x black reader #merge mansion #pedro pascal x woc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #roll a trope challenge

45 notes · View notes

sovietpostcards · 1 year ago

Note

Dunno if you've gotten this question before; are Russian cities generally walkable and safe for pedestrians? Most places in the US and Canada, even small towns, are extremely car-centered, with urban centers being mostly covered in asphalt and dangerous roads dividing parts of the community. Meanwhile, I noticed that even after cars became more widely available, Russian cities have lots of pedestrian-only areas and little parks scattered about, and people seem more keen to walk where they need to go in the city rather than drive. Is this still the general public attitude, that cities where you can safely walk places are preferable to car-centered plans?

This is an excellent question (I'm interested in urban planning). I haven't been to America so I can't compare from experience, but I've been to Europe. On the scale of walkability, Russia is between Europe (highly walkable) and US (badly walkable).

All urban areas are possible to reach by foot, there will be pavements all along the way. Walking along the pavement is safe. On unregulated crossings (no traffic light), cars will make way for pedestrians, but of course general caution is advised. Cars will not stop for pedestrians outside of marked crossings. (I've seen that in France and it struck me as unusual, people crossing anywhere.) (I also remember visiting Georgia where cars won't even let you pass on a crossing! You have to wait until there are no cars.)

Still, the way I see it, Russian cities are firstly designed for cars and then for pedestrians. Things like pedestrian underpasses and overpasses are awful and must die. Comunities divided by wide roads is a thing. When driving between cities, you can see countless tiny villages divided in half by a highway - and sometimes only a flyover for crossing it.

There's been significant change in Moscow regarding pedestrian planning in the recent 10 or so years--pavements become wider, some streets become entirely pedestrian, there are now regular crossings where there used to be only an underground crossing, unnecessary stairs and curbs disappear. (Once I walked 10 kilometers in central Moscow with a suitcase and there wasn't a single stair step or curb. It was awesome.) They're also constantly working on their public transport. I can't wait when this paradigm reaches smaller cities like my own.

#russia #urban planning #how is where you live?

125 notes · View notes

wildemaven · 1 year ago

Text

fall apart, again : chapter two | joel miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 2763

Warnings: 18+ Blog; little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff— that’s all I’m saying, reader has a name but is a blank slate with zero description,

A/N: I was eager to get this part written and out as soon as possible. Chapter 3 might take me a minute to get out, just a heads up. Thanks so much to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the best and listening to me stress over this 💞

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Previous / Next

September 22, 2003 - 4 Days until Outbreak

The summer still lingers in Texas, the air dense and muggy.

Heat shimmering over the hood of your car as you drive, the blasting of cool air is the only saving grace you have for the time being.

“Hey, it’s me. I wanted to talk to you about something when you get here. Umm— Shit! I hate this so much. *sigh* I miss you Eve…A-and I love you so, so fucking much. I guess— I guess I’ll see you in a bit. Drive safe. Bye.”

*BEEP*

“End of messages. You have no new messages.”

A heavy sigh huffs out of your chest, you press the red ‘end call’ button and toss the small phone into your passenger seat.

His voice still has such an effect on you after all this time, the little flutter it elicited the second it reverberated into the speaker has you almost fighting back tears.

You blink them away quickly as you reach for the stereo volume, turning it up to a somewhat higher but bearable level, the local station plays through some hit song you haven’t heard before.

The steering wheel is rigid as you readjust your grip, a slight glint of light pulls your gaze briefly from the road ahead, the small gold band that cradles a tiny diamond shines brightly on your left hand.

Refocusing on the road, your mind wanders to when you had both found the ring, your small income not offering a lot towards something with more extravagance, but you were the opposite of flashy so it was perfect.

You remember the sight of him immediately dropping to one knee the minute you both stepped out of the small jewelry store, its parking lot the backdrop for the proposal you both had planned together.

Yes! flew from your mouth instantly as you dropped down into his arms, the celebratory kiss only lasting briefly as the asphalt began to nearly burn through your jeans.

Meeting the love of your life at 18 and planning your life together at 22 felt right, even despite the apprehension from both of your parents, convinced you were throwing your lives away.

You wish you could say the last 14 years were nothing short of pure wedded bliss, the last few years were trying as you both worked yourselves to make ends meet, even in your 30’s trying to stay afloat was no easy feat.

The separation wasn't an easy decision. It broke your heart to even suggest such a thing, but you needed a break from the fighting and the tears, some space to clear your head and let things settle down before reevaluating what was best for both of you.

The love you had for him was still so strong and you held on to it fiercely, allowing time to heal the small fractures in your heart. You had hoped that your decision for this arrangement you had been living for the last 2 months, wasn't one you would regret in the long run.

Your friends assured you it was just a rough patch, something all couples dealt with at some point in their lives, trying to alleviate any hesitancy you were having that this was the end for your relationship. You knew you didn’t want an end, you had looked into options to work on things, hoping he would be on board and this would be a start to a new beginning.

“You know, he cries too. And he thinks I can’t tell, but I do.” A voice drifts from the back seat.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying, hoping the music muffled your sniffling as you promptly wiped your face, knowing she can tell with you too.

You catch her reflection in the rear view mirror, her gaze focused out the window, there's a soft but somber look on her face— you hate that you’re the cause of any sadness she is hiding from you.

Shifting your eyes back to the road as you turn into a quiet neighborhood. The small street is lined with modest homes and memories of block party cookouts on holiday weekends, kids running the sidewalks as their popsicles melt down their small hands and families bringing home newest editions to continue adding new memories.

The two story red brick with white trim house is nestled further down the cul de sac, it was the perfect starter home for two young adults who threw their savings and a hefty bank loan into it.

Guilt builds in your chest the closer you get, knowing it’s a quick visit before you leave, it hasn't gotten easier and each time only adding to the pain you feel of not pulling in that driveway permanently.

“He’s going to be bummed you won’t be here this weekend, I can already see his grumpy face.”

Parking the car along the curb in front of the house and killing the engine, you turn to look to the back seat.

“Please don’t say anything, just let me tell him okay?” You can already see his furrowed brow line and puppy dog eyes, for as handsome as he is, he wears his grumpiness well.

“Are you going to tell him you’re moving back home too?”

“What? How did you��“

“I heard you talking to grandma this morning, you both aren’t the quietest people, even when you think you’re being quiet. Just tell him, please. I don’t think he can take it much longer.”

“Yes, I’ll tell him.”

“Promise?”

“I promise— Gosh, since when did the roles reverse here? I swear, you were just 5 begging for your training wheels to come off. What the heck happened?”

“I turned 14 and wondered when my parents were going to come to their senses.”

“Alright, get your stuff baby girl. Don’t forget your school books too.”

“Got it!” Grabbing her overnight bag and backpack, books tucked under her arm as she exits the car.

You grab the small package out of the glove box and take a minute to calm your nerves, the air sticking to your skin the moment you step out of the car.

“Give me a hug.” Opening your arms to your daughter, grateful that even at 14 she still loves giving her parents hugs. “I’m gonna miss you, but I’ll call you when I get there ok?” Your cheek squished against the side of her head as you squeeze her a little tighter.

“Did you get the gift?” She looks up at you.

You hold up the silver box, giving a little shake, its contents knocking about slightly. You both smile at the remembrance of picking it out, the shopping trip to the mall last night week, searching every store for the perfect gift. It took 10 stores, a pretzel and a pit stop to Claire’s before you both settled on it— the perfect style and color to match his rugged look.

“Do you want to give it to him?” You ask her.

“No, you can. I’m going to grab something to eat before we leave for school.”

Another round of hugs, several small kisses to the top of her head and a string of ‘I love yous’ before she leaves you on the sidewalk to head inside.

The front door opens before she’s even made it up the driveway.

“Hey Dad!” Throwing herself into his arms.

Watching their embrace sends a wave of emotion through you, their bond is something you’ve always loved, only getting stronger as she’s gotten older.

You can’t hear what they're talking about from where you’re standing, hushed giggles and smiles exchanged before she makes her way inside.

The roar of a pickup truck grabs your attention as it parks in front of the garage, the door slamming shut before you see him round the front of the truck.

“Eve! You finally comin’ to take my asshole brother back? He keeps mopin’ around like a lost puppy. Makes him a pain in the ass to deal with truthfully— if not for him, do it for me sweetheart!” His hands up in a praying manner, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh at how dramatic he is first thing in the morning.

“Tommy, shut the fuck up and leave her alone will ya. Go on an’ head inside, I’ll be there in a minute. Sarah’s probably cooking up some eggs or somethin’— make sure she doesn’t burn the house down.” His voice sounds better when he’s standing 2 feet away from you, shouting at his idiot brother who is retreating to the house in search of food that was mentioned.

“Hey.” The tension leaves his shoulders, dropping the minute he gets a good look at you, his smile on full display.

It had been a week since you had last seen him, dropping Sarah off at your parents where you’ve been staying for the last 2 months.

“Hi, Joel.”

He hesitates for a moment, not sure whether to give you a hug or not, you make the decision for him and lean into his solid body wrapping your arms around him instantly, his brain taking a second to register the gesture before reciprocating earnestly. You breathe in his freshly showered scent— woodsy and warm, like a mountain forest after a raining day.

The hug lingers on for a while, neither of you speaking a word, savoring the embrace fully before releasing each other.

“How’s things been? Your parents good?” Hands fidgeting at his side, nerves starting to tick off as he searches for things to ask you.

“Yeah, things are good— things are going well.” Your voice fluttering, your own nerves making you feel like a middle schooler talking to her crush for the first time between classes. “My parents are good, too— they said to tell you hello.”

Another beat of silence, not really sure what to say next.

“Oh— this is for you.” You hand him the box you’ve been gripping tightly since you left the car. “It’s from Sarah and I, she insisted it was something you would like— Happy Birthday, Joel.”

Joel opens the lid to reveal a watch— a simple black watch face with matte silver casing and a green fabric band. Pulling it from the box he takes a better look at it, holding the weight of it in his large callused hand.

“Thanks— I love it.” And you know he means it, his genuine smile lights up his face making his beautiful brown eyes shine and crinkle up on the sides.

“Here, let me help you put it on.” Grabbing the watch from his hand.

Sliding the watch band around his wrist, his skin is soft against your fingertips as you maneuver the buckle in place— his forearm taut, muscles and tendons flexed and firm from years of working with his hands. His broad frame, all skilled and capable of handling any kind of physical demands, taking on any task with ease— from the way he held the tools that aided in remodeling every issue the house had when you moved in, to the way he gently held your newborn in the early hours of the morning and how he would hold you every night as you slept beside him— his body built for protecting the ones he loves the most.

You find it hard to let him go, your hands loitering over his hand, wanting nothing more than for him to pull you back against him, and you think he is going to when he grabs your left hand. His focus was first on your wedding ring, he’d spent the last 2 months worried you would remove it— his thumb smoothes over the gold band, then wrapping his hand around tenderly yours.

His eyes move from where your hands are joined to your face, watching how you’re still looking at the way he’s holding your hand, how you meet his eyes after a brief moment and the world around you is still.

“I was thinking we could try counseling—“

“I talked to a lawyer—“

You both speak at the same time, Joel’s face instantly morphing from hope to heartbreak at the way you mention talking to a lawyer.

“Hey, don’t get all worried on me, it was just my mom’s friend from Bunco.” You start to explain, your hand cupping his face. “She’s a retired lawyer I should say— she proposed I start writing down my thoughts in the form of letters, writing the things I've been wanting to say to you or how I’ve been feeling— anyway, she also suggested we try counseling too. Said it can help get things back on track, that it would be good for us.”

Joel releases the breath he was holding, relief settling into his handsome features.

“Yeah— I think it would be good for us too. I got the number of someone who specializes in marriage counseling, they were highly recommended.”

Your heart swells at the effort he’s putting into fighting for you, to fight for your marriage.

“Okay. Set us up a meeting with them and send me all the details.”

His hands settle into your hips, yours on his arms, the distance between you slowly closing.

“Okay. I wanted to ask you, no pressure or anything— Sarah wanted to get a cake on Friday for my birthday, she insists on it actually. Would you want to join us?”

“You know I would love to—” You pause, gathering all your thoughts before letting him know you wouldn’t be able to.

“Definitely feels like there’s a but coming.” His brows knit together as he waits for the rest of your letdown.

“I’m heading out of town, today actually. I picked up a few shifts down in Laredo at their hospital— it’s been planned for several weeks now, so I can’t get out of it.”

You had been working as a traveling nurse for the last 6 months, picking up shifts all over the state and working as much as possible to continue to help with the endless amount of bills.

“But— I put in for a permanent position at St. David’s. They were looking for a new head of triage, so I applied— and it would keep me closer to home.”

“Home? Like here home?” His head nudged in the direction of the house behind him, hands gripping tighter on your hips at the prospect of you moving back in.

“Yeah. I was thinking— I should be back early next week after my shifts are through and if it’s okay with you, I can start moving back in on Monday evening?”

“Eve, you don’t even have to ask. I would love nothin’ more than to have my wife home with me. Should we tell Sarah now or wait ‘til you get back?”

“She already knows— teenagers and the way their hearing only picks up on the things not meant for them. Although, I think she was secretly plotting something.”

Laughter fills the air between you, his forehead now resting against yours.

“I love you, Eve. I promise things are going to be different.”

“I love you so much. we’ll get through this together.”

Joel’s hand moves to tilt your chin up slightly, his gaze flitting between your eyes and lips, searching for any sign of rejection from you.

Your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks at the sensation of Joel’s lips molding against yours, pulling you flush to him, your hands carding through the curls at the nape of his neck.

It doesn’t take much for the kiss to deepen, weeks of pent up emotion pouring into every little detail of it.

“Would you two get a room already?” Sarah shouts from the front door.

“Yeah, get a fuckin’ room you animals.” Tommy always needing to add his own commentary.

The kiss over sooner than you would have liked.

“I should get going, I’ve got a 4 hour drive ahead of me.”

“Will you— will you call me when you get there? Let me know you made it safe?”

“Sure. I’ll call once I get settled into my hotel room.”

He kisses you one last time before letting you go, watching as you head back to your car.

Pulling the driver door open you pause, looking to Joel the house then to Sarah, blowing them a kiss and a final wave.

“I’ll see you all next week!” You say before getting into your car and driving back down the street towards the main road, watching their reflection in the mirror get smaller and smaller as they wave you one final goodbye.

#joel miller x ofc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x you #fall apart again series #Joel Miller #hbo the last of us #the last of us #tlou #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

155 notes · View notes

avastrasposts · 1 year ago

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 34**

Again, sorry about chapter 33, I know if was a hard one! But as someone said, it bonded us and brought us together! And I cannot tell you how good it felt to finally post it and be able to talk about it even though I was really nervous people would be genuinely offended. But it's all good! No got angry (yet anyway...).

So we're past the worst of it and Frankie and his girl are about to leave the QZ so please enjoy their journey that led to me using Google Maps an extraordinary amount!

Series Master List

Chapter 35- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 8.8k

Getting out of Boston is scary, Frankie drives and dodges around the runners that are attracted to the noise of the car. You regret your decision to leave every minute of the drive but Frankie hasn’t met a vehicle he can’t safely push to its limits. When you dare to open your eyes again you’re speeding down an empty highway, the Boston suburbs disappearing behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” he huffs, glancing in the rear view mirror at the fading city skyline. “Let’s not do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie, but I really haven’t thought about where we should go,” you say, looking over at him as he drives, “I had no plan apart from getting you away from the QZ.”

“It’s ok, cariño, we’ll figure it out,” he slides his hand over to your leg, squeezing it lightly, “I’ll just get us as far as possible today, out into the countryside, and then we’ll see where we wanna go.”

“How far do you think we’ll get in this car?” you ask, looking over the small sedan. It wasn’t the sturdiest car even when it was new, and it wasn’t new when the outbreak happened.

“As long as we find petrol and it doesn’t blow a tyre, it should be fine. I hope,” Frankie gives the dash a gentle pat as if willing the car to hold itself together.

You fall silent for a few minutes, looking out through the window and the passing trees. You’ve passed Worcester and the landscape is changing. You’d forgotten how green it could be, the QZ was devoid of almost all plant life, all trees taken down for firewood, any park dug up for crops. But out here, on a bright May day, everything is so green it almost hurts. In the past ten years nature has taken over and when you drive through a forest it’s like being inside a tunnel of green, tall grass and thick bushes caging in the road and slowly creeping over it. In a few more years even the asphalt will be broken up by roots and plants, you can already see it in places.

The miles pass and you see less and less civilization and no sign of infected. Frankie makes sure to drive around any towns or cities, staying well away from any places that used to be populated. You leave Massachusetts and keep making your way west, after a few hours you reach Pennsylvania and one of the big state forests. The green hillsides remind you of Denny’s cabin, of the drive up there. You haven’t thought about it in years but now it seems like a haven.

“Could we go back to Denny’s cabin?” you ask, looking over at Frankie again, “Maybe it’s still untouched.”

“After all these years, I doubt it,” he says, shaking his head, “I did lock it when we left but someone’s bound to have found it, raiders or looters. And even before it would’ve been a two day drive, now, who knows how long it would take?”

“But we need somewhere really remote, maybe up towards the Canadian border?”

“Yeah, but past the Great Lakes first, too many people on this side,” Frankie says, “And not too far north, the winters are too harsh.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and you hear him inhale a couple of times, you know he’s getting ready to say something so you wait while watching his profile, his eyebrows knit together and he tightens his jaw.

“I gave the last pills to Joel,” he says, finally, “And the key to the apartment, to give to Will.” He glances over to you, “But I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me about the pills, I know I’ve lied a lot lately.”

“Frankie…” you begin and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to say anything, I’m just going to prove it to you, prove that you can trust me again,” he nods, more to himself than to you, “I’ll prove it to you, but,” he takes his eyes of the road again and looks at you, his eyebrows bunched up with nerves, “…the thing is, I’m already getting shaky, and I don’t know what shape I’ll be in once the withdrawals really kick in. I might need you to drive soon.”

“Of course, Frankie, whatever you need,” you put your hand on his leg and you can feel him trembling, “Pull over as soon as you find a good spot and I’ll take over.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose, “I don’t know how bad it’ll get, you remember last time, right?”

“I remember you being sick as a dog for a day, you couldn’t keep any food or water down,” you move your hand to his forehead, he’s starting to look pale and his skin is cold to the touch, “Frankie, we should find a safe spot as soon as possible so that you can relax while it works it’s way out of your system.”

He nods and you pull out the road map that you’d found in the car, scanning the land ahead of you. You guide him and he turns on to increasingly smaller roads, finally arriving at a dead end with a small cabin tucked away deep into the forest. He stops the car and you sit quietly in the yard in front for a while, listening to the sounds of birds and nothing else. Eventually he turns the car around, parking it for an easy get away and you both get out and make sure both the cabin and the area is clear. It reminds you of the early days of the outbreak, when it was just you and him and you fall into the routine of you covering his back while he goes in first.

The cabin looks untouched, the door still locked and you easily find the key hidden under some rocks near the door. The rocks are covered in moss and you have to clean the key before it slides into the lock, but it fits, and the door swings open on creaking hinges. The inside is empty and dusty, just one big room. It looks like an old hunting lodge that’s been emptied out long before the outbreak. The only remaining feature is a big fireplace on the back wall.

“Safe and dry,” Frankie says, closing the door behind you. The shutters are closed and you switch on your flashlight.

“We’ll be alright here for a few days I think, although you might not be too comfortable,” you sweep the light across the room, there’s nothing, not even firewood in the cabin.

“I’ve slept in much worse, trust me, cariño,” he gives you a weak smile, he’s pulling out the camping light and cranking it. It’s not bright but spreads enough light to illuminate the room. As you put your flashlight away Frankie puts his backpack down by the wall, when he stands up again he suddenly wobbles and puts his hand out to steady himself.

“Frankie,” you say, rushing over and wrapping your arm around his waist to hold him up, “are you alright?”

He nods but lets you lower him gently to the floor, “I just got dizzy, it’s starting…” he breathes deeply and even in the dim light you can see his pale complexion under a sheen of sweat.

“How do you feel about food? I think you should eat something before it gets worse,” you kneel down next to him and pull out the camping stove and a can.

“Just give me some of those dry crackers you made and some water,” he says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

…

The night is bad for Frankie, his body shivers and you drape his sleeping bag over him but then sweat pours off him and his anxiety spikes. He’s got his head in your lap and you rake your fingers through his damp curls, soothing him in what little way you can as the opioids work their way out of his system. You refuse to let him keep watch, insisting that he gets what sleep he can, you sleep sitting up, a simple noise trap set up in front of the locked door. By morning Frankie is curled into a tight ball on the floor, sweating through his t-shirt and whimpering in his sleep. He’s thrown up during the night and you’ve forced him to drink water but now he’s fairly peaceful so you let him sleep for as long as his body will let him.

You only meant to stay overnight in the cabin but you end up bunkering down for three days. Frankie curses every decision he’s ever made that’s led him to lie shivering on the floor while he tries to at least keep liquids down. The forest around the cabin is quiet and you venture out in search of more water, leaving Frankie sleeping. When you come back a few minutes later he’s awake and anxious, irritated at you for leaving without him.

“You can’t go out on your own!” he snaps as you close the door behind you, wrinkling your nose at the stale air inside the cabin after three days. “What if something happens to you and I don’t hear anything?!” You put down the water container and he grabs your arms, pulling you close, “You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Frankie, honey….” you soothe him, “I was gone for a minute, there’s a stream just behind the cabin, “this is just your withdrawals messing with your brain.”

“You know I worry about you, you can’t just fucking disappear on me,” he growls, his temper getting the better of him as you try to calm him. The aggression has been simmering under the surface for the past twenty-four hours and you know he’s ready to peel his own skin off from sheer frustration. You carefully inhale a deep breath, letting him hold on to your arms as his jaw snaps shut around whatever angry words he wanted to spit out. This is not your Frankie, you have to keep reminding yourself, and you put your hands on his waist, his fingers still digging into your arms. Finding the small gap between his pants and shirt, you rub your thumbs over the soft skin, letting the warmth of your hands seep into him while you watch emotions work their way across his face; from anger to frustration to guilt and grief. When he lets go of your arms and wraps himself around you, pulling you tight, you know he’s snapped out of it for now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m such a fucking mess right now.”

“I know, Frankie, but you’ll get past it, the worst is almost over,” you caress his messy curls, cupping the back of his head with your hand to keep him close. “I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, just stay with me and I’ll take care of you, ok?”

He nods while you gently take his hand and pull him down onto the floor again. He sits against the wall, his fingers twitching as he tips his head back against the rough timber, closing his eyes.

“I’m actually a little bit hungry, maybe the worst is over.”

“That’s great, do you want something to eat? See if you can keep it down now?”

“Yeah, give me one of those crackers to start with,” he opens his eyes again and accepts the dry piece of thin bread from your backpack.

You watch him eat it and then a small helping of canned baked beans that you heat up on the camping stove. He’s still shaky and nauseous, but it stays down and he starts to feel better. You eat your own food and sit down next to him, pulling him into you with your arm over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek, “for putting up with me. Just for once I’d like to have a life where I don’t feel like I’m always trying to make up to you for my mistakes.”

“You know I’ll always think you’re worth it, Frankie,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He hums contentedly and sighs and you sit in silence for a while. His breathing is calmer than it has been in days, he’s not trembling anymore and he’s starting to feel warm again, like himself.

“I’m sorry I forced you to leave Will and Benny behind,” you say eventually, “but I couldn’t let them know, I didn’t want them to risk anything, this is just you and me.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up so that he can look at you properly, “I know you did what you had to do to get me away from it and I’m grateful. You sacrifice so much for me, cariño.”

“And Santi…” you begin to say but tears well up and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from falling apart. You see Frankie’s eyes fill up with tears too and he pulls you into his chest.

“It’s not your fault, Frankie,” you whisper between quiet sobs, “I know I said it but I know it wasn’t your fault, you got betrayed by someone.”

Frankie shakes his head, “I fucked up, I feel asleep, it would’ve been different,” he tightens his hold on you and you feel him tense up, “he was so disappointed in me for still using, he told me he was going to tell you when we got back and then kick my ass.”

“You talked to him before he got caught?” you ask, pulling back a little and wiping the back of your hand over your eyes, “you didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, right before, I told him what had happened and he said we’d been betrayed, that it wasn't’ my fault, but…I-I don’t know…” Frankie sighs and you reach up and wipe away another tear from his cheek, “He wasn’t mad at me, just disappointed and told me I had to get over it, get clean, I’m just such a fucking mess, a disappointment to you all.”

“You’re doing it now, Frankie,” you say, letting the back of your hand caress his cheek, “you’re past the worst of the withdrawals and now you stay clean for Santi. And I’ll help you, all the way.”

Frankie sighs and gives you a weak smile, “He told me he wasn’t sure I could survive without you anymore, and he’s right, what the fuck would I do without you?”

“What the fuck would I do without you, Frankie?” you say, pressing your lips to the bare patch on his scruffy cheek, “And I don’t mean all the times you’ve actually saved my life. But how would I survive in this world if you didn’t love me? You’re the only reason I actually want to stay alive.”

“I don’t know how long I can keep us safe out here though,” Frankie says with a deep sigh, looking towards the door of the cabin as if he can see all the monsters, infected or not, waiting for you. “We’ll be in danger whenever we leave and even in a place like this, there’s always a risk of someone showing up.” He looks back at you, his eyebrows knitted and serious, “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s only us now and our odds aren’t good.”

“I don’t care, Frankie,” you let him wrap his arms around you so that he can tuck you in under his chin, “I just want my old Frankie back, without the drugs, and I’d rather have just a little time with you like that out here, then watch you succumb to your nightmares and addictions in the QZ.”

“Maybe I should’ve just left on my own…” he mumbles, “putting your through this isn’t fair.”

“Pfft…as if I’d let you,” you snort, “I would’ve come after you.”

“I know, and you coming after me then would’ve been much scarier than any infected or raider,” you can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a soft dig in between his ribs and he chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head while he runs his hand over your arm for a few minutes while you sit quietly.

“I never could’ve left you though, I’m too selfish,” Frankie says after a little while, “I need you, even when I’m my shittiest, lowest self. I never could’ve left you, even if you’d begged me to, Pope was right when he said I can’t survive without you.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone, I miss him,” you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

“Me too,” Frankie mumbles, “me too.”

…

On the morning of the fourth day Frankie feels stable enough to continue westward. The cabin you’re in is decent but still too close to civilization, so you refill your water canisters and load up the little car. You’re going to need to find gas soon though and when you hit the highway again Frankie sorts a siphon and fills up the tank. It’s slow going, stopping and getting more gas every hour but you make your way west, giving Chicago a wide berth. As soon as you start getting closer to towns or cities, you see infected. There are hordes of them, roaming around what used to be populated areas.

“Any town or city is off limits,” Frankie says as you watch yet another group of infected in the distance, “We’ll have to resupply by hunting or looting farmsteads. One or two infected we can handle, any more than that and we’re pushing our luck.”

You nod and agree, luckily you only see infected near towns or cities, you haven’t seen any in the farms you’ve explored. It seems people either left during the outbreak or the infected somehow naturally gravitate towards each other. In the years since the outbreak some attempts have been made to understand how the infection works and how it makes the infected behave. But apart from them seeming to group into larger hordes and moving with the seasons, no one really understands much about them.

You get past Illinois and enter Iowa, avoiding Des Moines and following the pin straight highway twenty through endless fields.

“Haven’t they heard of curves in this state?” you grumble as you stare at the road that stretches towards the flat horizon, “these roads are literally designed for people to fall asleep while driving.”

“You’ve never traveled by car across the Midwest before the outbreak?” Frankie asks, he looks relaxed, the road is almost empty, just a few cars along the sides, and he’s got his elbow out through the open window, the wind ruffling his curls under yet another trusty cap he picked up somewhere, this one says ‘Pennsylvania University’.

“No, I always flew when I went home from college and the only road trip I did was from Seattle to Portland.”

“I’ve driven coast to coast, the Midwest is the worst for straight roads,” Frankie says, waving his hand out the window, “we just need to get through Iowa and then Nebraska, then we’ll start seeing some mountains.”

“Is Nebraska where you wanna head?” you ask, following the highway on the map.

“Maybe, it gets pretty remote once you start getting in among the reservations, they were never very populated, but lots of open land. But I was thinking maybe Colorado too, but away from Aspen and Denver, somewhere remote up in the mountains but not so far up that the winters get too harsh.”

“Maybe down in the foothills of the Rockies?” you say, looking at the states that creep up to the big mountain range cutting you off from the coast, “Colorado, Wyoming, Montana?”

“Pick a state, cariño, and pick a farm,” he chuckles, “We’ve got a lot of land to choose from.”

…

At night you try to find shelter somewhere away from the road, out of sight. If you’re lucky you find an empty cabin or house, if not you try to hide in a forest, or at least a patch of trees. You sleep in watches, never trusting any place enough to both sleep at the same time. Frankie always makes you sleep first, and once he’s tired enough, in the middle of the night, he wakes you up and then he falls asleep easier and has less nightmares. They still plague him though, and there are new elements to them, he mumbles Pope’s name and you try to calm him before he gets to the point you know he revisits every night.

You still see him too, up on the scaffold every night in your dreams. Sometimes you can run towards it, other times you’re glued to the spot, unable to move, but the outcome is always the same; the trap door opens and he drops before you can get to him. Some nights are worse than others, then all four of them are up there, Frankie next to Pope, with Will and Benny there too. Those nights you wake up screaming as the trap door opens, and Frankie scrambles to pull you into his arms, to calm you down.

“You’re getting good at this,” you mumble, pressed into his soft flannel shirt as your breathing slows down. His hands are rubbing up and down your arms and back, grounding you under his touch.

“I have a lot of practice,” he whispers before he kisses the top of your ear, his warm lips tickling you and making your heart slow down a little bit more, “how many times haven’t you had to do this for me over the years?”

You hum into his chest, drifting off to sleep again even though it’s almost dawn, the dark night sky has a slight tinge at the eastern horizon as Frankie glances around the clearing you’re camped in tonight.

Suddenly he hears a high pitched cry, weak and in the distance, but distinct. You hear it too, even though you’re already half asleep, and you stir, sitting up.

“What was that?” you ask, turning towards the sound. As you listen you hear it again and this time you recognize it.

“It’s a baby,” you whisper, looking up at Frankie who’s straining his eyes to see through the darkness. It’s coming from across the road you’d been on before you took shelter in this copse, hidden from sight now by the trees.

“Yeah, an infant,” Frankie whispers back, getting up from the ground and continuing to look towards the sound.

“What do we do?” you look around the car, trying to hear or see anything else around your simple campsite.

“I’d like to say we leave, get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible,” Frankie says, looking down at you, “But I don’t think I can…”

“Me either,” you nod, “who the fuck are we if we leave a baby crying?”

Frankie gives a little shake of his head and you see him square up his shoulders as he looks towards the shrill, faint sound, “C’mon, we go quietly, we leave the car here, but grab your pack.”

You quickly pack up your things and pull out your gun, all traces of sleep are gone now as you follow behind Frankie. He leads the way across the highway and into the sparse forest on the other side. The baby goes silent sometimes but always starts crying again and suddenly Frankie puts his fist up, signaling you to stop. Through the forest you hear the soft sound of a woman shushing the child. Frankie motions for you to crouch down and slowly you move forward together, making as little noise as possible. The breeze masks your footsteps and as you step around a large oak tree you see the source of the sound; leaning against a boulder is a woman, a few years younger than yourself, with a baby cradled in her arms. Even in the faint light you can see her ghostly pale skin and gaunt look, her chest rising in short rapid breaths, like she’s gasping for air and something tells you she’s dying, her body is slumped over, like she doesn’t have any strength left. Frankie scans the area around her for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Don’t scream, we’re not going to hurt you,” he says, half visible behind the tree. The woman startles but doesn’t cry out, she just holds the child closer to her chest.

“We heard the baby crying, do you need help?”, you ask, still half hiding behind Frankie. He’s lowered his gun but you can tell he’s still on full alert. The woman is painfully emaciated and scared looking but she seems to relax a little when she sees you.

“Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, he can see that her ragged shirt is dark with what looks like blood, and she nods, her face suddenly crumples as she begins to cry.

“Please,” she begs, tears streaming down her face, “take him, get him away from them.” She struggles to lift the baby, he begins to wail again and she almost drops him as her arms give out.

“Keep watch,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “I’m going to check on her.” He puts away his gun and puts his hands up.

“I’m going to come over, I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t hurt me, ok?”

The woman nods, sobbing, and Frankie closes the short distance, crouching down next to her. You keep your gun raised, your eyes flitting between Frankie and the woman and the trees around you. The sky is rapidly getting lighter but the surrounding forest is quiet, whoever ‘them’ are, you can’t hear anything.

The woman’s eyes are big and fearful as Frankie crouches down but he smiles at her, you see his warm eyes give her that comforting look you’ve seen so many times, and she relaxes, trusting him instinctively.

“You’re hurt?” he asks in a soft voice and she nods, looking down at her abdomen.

“It’s bad, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I-I’m dying,” she whispers and as Frankie gently lifts her shirt you hear him inhale, her shirt is soaked with blood and there is a nasty looking gash deep into her side. She’s been holding her hand over it but as Frankie makes her move it out of the way you realize there’s no way you can help her. She needs a hospital, and even that might not be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says in a low voice, looking up at the woman’s pale face, “I can’t do anything, we only have a simple first aid kit. Who did this to you?”

The woman just shakes her head and tries to lift the baby again, “Take him, please, they’re hunting me, get him away from here.”

You scan the forest again, your finger on the trigger, straining your ears to hear anything above the chirping of the early morning birds that have started to sing.

“Who are they?” Frankie asks, gently dropping the woman’s shirt over her wound again.

“Slavers,” the woman shudders, “I escaped three days ago, I-I don’t have time, please,” she looks down at the baby in her arms and then back at Frankie, “Please, you’ve got to take him. His name is Jack, after my brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people, please find him.”

Frankie looks over at you and you see the question in his eyes, should you take this baby? But the option is to leave him to die with his mother, or be found by the slavers, and then what? You nod to Frankie and look at the woman, “We’ll take him, but we might not find your brother, Wyoming is a big place.”

“Just get him away from here, please,” the woman’s voice breaks, she’s bending her head down over her son, gently tucking in the blanket that’s swaddled around him. She looks up at Frankie again, he’s still crouched next to her.

“Take him and…and k-kill me…” she pleads, “Don’t let them find me alive, they’ll hurt me.”

“How many are coming after you?” Frankie asks, holstering his gun and taking the infant boy from the woman.

“Ten, maybe fifteen,” she says, looking at her son, now safely tucked into the crook of Frankie’s arm. “There were twenty-two in the gang, I killed one as I escaped.”

“Too many for us to fight,” he replies, looking back at you. Much as you know he would like to help, he won’t risk your life or his own for this.

“Come here,” he says to you, motioning over, “take the baby.”

“Jack, his name is Jack Connolly, he-,” the woman says, her voice breaking into a moan as she grabs her side, “he’s six months old, his birthday is January twenty-third,” she looks at you as you carefully take Jack from Frankie, “Please take care of him,” she whispers, “tell him I love him.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, “We’ll keep him as safe as we can. Do you kno-”

Your head snaps up as you suddenly hear someone shout in the distance, Frankie is on his feet in a flash, gun raised.

“We need to go,” he says, “back to the car, quick.”

“Please,” the woman urgently whispers, “don’t leave me alive, you have to kill me,” she sobs, glancing over her shoulder towards where the shout came from. Frankie looks at her and then back at you before he kneels down by her again.

“Do you know where in Wyoming?” he asks, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what is your name? So that we can tell your son when he grows up.” You turn away from the woman as you see Frankie reach for the hunting knife behind his back.

“Julia,” the woman says, her voice breaking around another painful moan, “They were heading for Wind River.”

“We’ll find him, we’ll bring Jack to him,” Frankie says and then you hear the breath knocked out of the woman in a gentle gasp. You can’t help but glance back, shielding the boy in your arms. Frankie’s hand is covering her mouth and his hunting knife is in her chest, angled just into her heart. As you watch, her wide eyes, locked on Frankie, go still and lifeless. He gently sweeps his hand over her eyelids, closing them as he pulls out his knife.

“C’mon, we need to move,” he says quietly, getting back to his feet, sheeting the knife and pulling out his gun again. A man with a gruff voice shouts again, closer this time, and as you spin around, Frankie grabs your arm and pulls you behind the large oak tree. He gives it a few seconds and then moves you forward with his hand still around your wrist.

“Back to the car, quietly,” he whispers, “if the baby cries, cover his mouth as much as you can.”

You only make it a short distance before you hear voices behind you again and Frankie pulls you both down behind some low shrubs, not enough to hide you if someone comes too close.

“I found her!” someone shouts from between the trees, “but the bitch is fucking dead!”

“And the baby?” another voice calls, you can hear the undergrowth crunching as someone hurries towards the woman’s body.

“I can’t see it,” the first voice says.

Frankie tugs on your wrist and you move through the forest, crouched low, back towards the road. You glance down at the baby, you’re trying to hold him steady in your left arm, holding your gun in your right. He looks back up at you with large blue eyes, mercifully silent for now.

You reach the road, there’s a strip of long grass between the edge of the forest and the asphalt and Frankie stops, sinking to his belly.

“Stay here,” he whispers, “I’m going to check if the coast is clear.”

You nod and he slowly crawls forward through the grass, lifting his head and glancing down the road. He can see a pick up truck further down the road but no people. Glancing behind him he waves you forward and he watches you begin to sneak forward through the grass but suddenly you freeze, looking at the other side of the road, and he turns. He curses under his breath when he sees two men appear from the trees and stop, looking up and down the road. Frankie hears you slowly back up, into the tree line again, out of sight. He risks a quick look over his shoulder, you’re concealed behind the trees again and he carefully crawls backwards through the grass.

“No sign of anyone, that car could’ve been there for years,” one of the men says, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you, I came through here with Lowell a week ago and it wasn’t there then,” the second man replies.

“Yeah, but that was a week ago, whoever left it is long gone by now.”

“And maybe they’re not, I’m just saying it’s weird that the car is there just as that bitch cut Jake and ran.”

“So what? She’s dead now, and who cares about the kid? She’s been fucked by everyone of us, we ain’t gonna know who’s it is anyway.”

“Yeah, she’s dead and we’re down one worker, so we might as well try and grab whoever drove that car as compensation.”

You’ve heard more than enough, bile is rising in your throat as Frankie finally reaches you again and crouches next to you. He puts his mouth next to your ear and whispers. “Follow the treeline, stay out of sight, we’ll take their truck if we can get to it.”

You nod and he holds onto your wrist as he slowly moves through the forest, out of sight. There’s no one by the truck and Frankie quietly opens the driver's side door and feels around for the keys.

“Bingo,” he whispers as he grabs them, still hanging from the ignition, “Get in from this side, keep the baby quiet.”

You do as he says and slide down between the seat and the dash when he points you to it.

“Hold on tight, once I start it up they’ll be all over us, keep your head down,” he whispers, glancing around the truck. There’s an old hunting rifle in the back, not well maintained but when he picks it up and checks, he sees that it’s loaded.

He hands it over to you, “If I say so, leave the baby on the floor and shoot at anyone who’s coming after us, ok? They probably have at least one more car and they might have time to get to it once I start this.”

You nod and Frankie reaches for the keys, holding his breath, he turns it and the truck rumbles to life. He quickly throws it in drive and accelerates, through the open window you can hear shouts go up.

“Someone’s stealing the pickup! Get after ‘em! Quick!”

“Joey! Get the other fucking car!”

“Shoot the tyres, shoot for fucks’s sake!”

Gunshots ring out but Frankie is already swerving, zigzagging the truck down the road. A few bullets ping off the metal and Frankie glances behind him.

“Cariño, I’m gonna need you to take their car out, they’re coming after us,” he calls over the sound of the guns.

His eyes flit between you and the road as you climb up onto the seat and crouch down by the open back window. The rifle is heavier than what you’re used to but you manage to shoulder it and aim down the barrel.

“Yank back on the lever on the side to reload,” Frankie calls to you and you almost roll your eyes at him as you pull back on the bolt action. You can hear Benny’s voice in your head as you go through the motions and hold the rifle as steady as you can while the truck lurches, ‘Push it up first, then you slide it back, the bullet pops out and then you reverse it, easy!’

Your first shot goes wide, the sights on the gun wonky and old. You can feel Frankie glance at you in the rear view mirror as you reload. The second shot hits the side view mirror of the other truck, you wish you’d been aiming at it but it was pure luck. But it does have the benefit of making the driver jolt and swerve and one of the men in the back of the truck topples over and disappears from view.

A bullet slams into the back of the truck, making you jerk your head back, for a second you think you’ve been hit but nothing hurts and you take a deep breath, aiming out through the window again.

Your third bullet hits the grill, you’re getting the hang of the aim of the rifle.

“Keep the truck steady for a few seconds,” you yell back to Frankie, “I need to hit a tyre!”

He does as you say and you take careful aim as the other pickup gets closer. You squeeze the trigger gently but a bump in the road jolts your aim and the shot rings out, going wide and you curse loudly, quickly sliding back the bolt.

But Frankie whoops, “Fucking awesome shot, cariño!” and you look back at the truck, the driver is slumped over, the broken windshield splattered in blood. Behind it you see the other man try to take control of the wheel.

“Take him out!” Frankie yells, “You’ve got him!”

You aim at the tire again and this time your aim is on point, the tire blows up and the man loses control of the vehicle as it spins out of control. It careens into the ditch and Frankie floors the accelerator, putting distance between you and the slavers. You slump down in the passenger seat, letting out a long breath as Frankie gives your leg a quick squeeze.

“Best fucking shot I’ve ever seen, cariño, you’re fucking amazing!”

You give him a weak grin, and pick baby Jack up from the floor, cradling the little bundle into your arms. It suddenly hits you, now you’re responsible for this little one and the promise you made to his mother. You’re heading for Wyoming now and it feels like faith made a decision for you.

…

The truck has almost a full tank of gas and for that you’re grateful. Frankie doesn’t stop driving for hours, turning off the interstate and getting lost on smaller roads, skirting towns and villages, until you’re forced to stop and refuel.

Jack, the little baby boy, cries and sleeps throughout the day until you figure out that he can eat the spaghettios from a can and seems to like it.

“Thank god he eats solid food,” you say, carefully spooning another small bite into the boy’s mouth, “And thank god you’re a baby encyclopedia, Frankie.”

“Never thought I’d use all that knowledge again,” Frankie says, glancing down at baby Jack on your lap. “But you know this complicates things, we need to figure out how to feed him and keep him clean. We’re gonna have to wash those diapers pretty much every day.”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought, there’s already a dirty one wrapped up in the back, “Ok, that’s gonna be your job,” you say and Frankie chuckles.

“I already sacrificed a t-shirt for him, you can do the diaper washing.”

You look down at the little boy on your lap, he’s got your finger in a steady grip and as you watch him he yawns twice and closes his eyes. Soon he’s sleeping again and you cross both your legs, letting him rest in your lap with one of Frankie’s hoodies draped over him.

“How far is Wind River?” Frankie asks and you pull out the map again.

“It’s marked on the map as Wind River Reservation,” you say, tracing the outline of the reservation with your finger, “It looks like about five hundred miles away, so a day’s drive if we’re lucky. But then we have to find this group of people.” You sigh and look at the map of Wyoming, it’s a very big state, even Wind River looks huge.

“I don’t think we’ll find them,” Frankie says, “I say we stick to the original plan of getting to the foothills and finding somewhere safe to live. And even though it’s only June, we need to settle soon so that we can prepare for winter.” He looks over at you and down at the boy, “It’s not going to be easy, even for the two of us. With him…cariño, it’s going to be hard…he might not…” Frankie trails off and you nod, you know keeping a baby alive in this world is hard enough. Out here, on your own, it might prove impossible.

“We’ll figure it out, Frankie, somehow, we’ll be there in two or three days, and find somewhere to settle.”

…

‘Famous last words’, you think the next afternoon as you stand next to the car. The good news is that you’re well away from Nebraska and any pursuing slavers. The bad news is that you’re still a good fifty miles away from White River and even further from the foothills of the Rockies. And you’re out of gas. There hasn’t been a car in sight for two hours and the last one you saw had only water in the tank. The pickup spluttered to a halt after running on fumes for a good half an hour.

Frankie is going through the supplies the slavers had left in the truck, replacing some of the stuff in your packs before he shoulders the larger pack. Little baby Jack has been wrapped against your chest with a makeshift kangaroo pouch made from Frankie’s one clean hoodie. You carry the lighter pack on your back.

“That’s it,” Frankie says, “we’ll have to leave the rest but it’s mainly junk or too heavy.” He comes over to you after tossing the car keys on to the driver’s seat. “You ok, cariño?” His voice is soft as he looks down at you and the baby sleeping tucked against your chest, “It’s going to be a long walk but I know you can handle that, just let me know if he gets too heavy for you.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve got the heavier pack anyway, Frankie,” you smile at him, trying to sound more alright than you actually are. The car represented some sort of safety out here, a way of running from danger. Now you feel exposed. You look around the empty prairie, nothing but grass until the hills appear on the horizon.

“I found you this in the truck,” Frankie holds out a weather worn John Deere ball cap, it’s grimy and sweat stained, “I’ll wash it when we pass some water but you’ll need it for the sun today.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” you say and stuff it in your back pocket for now and he takes your hand and starts walking, heading west along the highway, leaving the pickup behind.

…

Settlements are few and far behind in this part of Wyoming and it feels like you walk for hours without getting anywhere. The road looks the same, the landscape looks the same, just one big open sky above you and the sun beating down mercilessly. The only sign of time and distance passing is the sun slowly creeping down towards the mountains in the west. When it finally disappears it’s a relief, the evening air cooling your hot skin.

“There’s a river coming up in about two miles,” Frankie says, looking at the map and comparing it to a rusted road sign. “We should camp there for the night, get some fresh water and see if we can catch some fish.”

You nod, you feel dead on your feet and Frankie takes your hand, “Almost there cariño, then we can rest,” he says and gives you a kiss, “C’mon, not much further.”

You walk along the river for half a mile before you find a good sheltered spot. The night’s are still warm so there’s no need for a fire but Frankie pitches the small tent he got from the pickup. It gives baby Jack shelter from the wind while you change his diaper and feed him some of the spaghettios. Frankie comes back from the river with wet pants but a proud smile and a large trout hanging by the gills from his hand.

“Earned my nickname,” he grins, showing off his catch, “Jack might not be able to eat it but we’ll get a good meal tonight and tomorrow.

Sheltered behind a few rocks, Frankie risks a small fire, and quickly grills the trout, deboning it and serving you a large portion with a flourish that makes you laugh.

“Such a master chef, Frankie, this is the best fish I’ve had in years” you smile as he sits down next to you after kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

“Not sure about ‘master chef’,” he chuckles, “hunger and fresh air probably has more to do with that taste.”

“Either way, I’m very impressed,” you lean into him and kiss his scruffy cheek. His whiskers are getting long again and they tickle your nose as you taste his soft skin. Frankie turns his head and catches your chin between his thumb and finger, pressing his warm lips against yours and you hum quietly under your breath. He feels so good and it’s been so long since you were in a place where you could relax enough to think about more than just a cuddle. Here isn’t safe either but the quiet of the open prairie around you lets you feel alone and secure. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles on it, you can feel his smile as you let your fingers thread through the curls sticking out under his cap.

“I really wish we had a room with a sturdy locked door,” he mumbles, his lips still close to yours, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

“How fast can you get your pants back on if someone shows up?” you ask, cupping his rapidly swelling cock through his jeans. He groans and you can’t help but giggle at his instant reaction, his hips involuntarily thrusting up against your palm.

“Not fast enough, cariño,” he mutters, “fuck, we shouldn’t risk it but I really wanna fuck you right now.” The last words come as a groan as you palm him with a little bit more pressure, running your fingers along the outline of his hard length.

“Is the baby sleeping?” he asks, glancing over at the tent.

“Yeah, he’s down for the night I think,” you reply, sitting up a bit straighter and straining your ears to hear anything from around you.

“Hang on, cariño, hold that thought,” Frankie says and gets up, not without trouble. You’re camped in a small dip in the land, the river bank on the other side sheltering you from both the wind and anything, or anyone, else. He climbs out of the dip and looks around, the prairie is wide and flat, it feels like you can see for miles except for the few low trees and bushes that dot the landscape.

“C’mere,” he says as he returns down into the dip, “sit on my lap, if someone comes, I’ll shoot them with my dick out,” he’s smiling but his eyes are dark with lust.

You quickly pull off your pants and straddle his hips, reaching down to unbutton him and slip your hand into his boxers. He inhales when your hand closes around his thick length and you pull him free.

“Fuck…that feels so good, carino,” he groans as he caresses your hips, one hand moving up between your thighs to find you slick and warm. His fingers are soon coated in your wetness and you take his hand and make him spread it over his cock while you run your thumb through the silky drops on the fat head. He’s heavy and hard in your hand as you slide down, moving his hand out of way.

“You can come inside me today, Frankie,” you mumble, lining him up against your opening and your words, together with the feeling of your heat starting to envelop his swollen tip, makes him moan, his fingers digging harder into your hips as you slide down onto him.

As he stretches you open, you drop your head down onto his shoulder, his hands gently pulling you down over him. He’s starting to buck his hips up, planting his feet on the ground as he grinds himself deeper. You gasp against his neck when he’s got you flush against his hip, the coarse hairs at the base grazing over your clit. Frankie is already close, you can hear his breaths go short, growling as he hooks his hand over your shoulder and pulls you down again and again.

“Hermosa…” he gasps, “I’m not going to last, you feel too fucking good, so tight, fuck…” he groans and cups the back of your head, pulling you up so that he can slide his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as his fingers find your clit and circles it with practiced ease. He knows so well how to bring your climax to the surface fast. Heat builds rapidly in your body, Frankie’s tongue slipping over yours with a steady rhythm that matches his thrusts and as he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little bit, you topple over the edge. Gasping into his mouth you feel him pump himself up into your hard, groaning under you as he fills you up, you can feel the heat of his spend even through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Leaning your foreheads together you listen to the silence around you and your heavy breaths. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel Frankie’s pulse thrumming under your fingers where you’re holding on to his neck. Your knees are killing you and you wince as you carefully push yourself up, letting him slip out of you. The hard ground has been digging into them, but you hadn’t even noticed while Frankie was inside you. Now you groan and stand up, carefully brushing off your legs.

Frankie is looking up at your thighs, he can see his load drip out of you in the dim light and it makes his soft cock twitch again. He grabs your hips and sits up straighter, making your gasp when his tongue dips into your slit. You can hear him chuckle as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose is nudging against your sensitive clit while he tastes himself on you, sliding the tip gently through your folds.

“Frankie,” you giggle, he’s tickling your oversensitive nerves, and you grab his curls, pushing him away as he looks up at you. His dimple sits deep in his cheek and his eyes are mischievous as he licks his lips.

“Perfect dessert, cariño,” he grins, smacking his lips.

“Dirty boy,” you smile back at him and turn to put your pants back on while he chuckles. He tucks himself away and you sit down next to him, leaning against him as he hooks his arm around your shoulders.

“If it wasn’t for the whole outbreak thing and constant threat of raiders and infected,” you say, threading your fingers through his, “this would be a perfect ‘Frankie date’.”

Frankie chuckles low behind your head, “I used to serve you better food than just plain trout on those dates. And give you better sex.”

“That was plenty good sex, dirty boy,” you smile, turning your head so that you can reach his lips. You can still taste your combined releases on him and you kiss him again. He leans his head against yours and you hear him yawn and you should tell him to go to bed, to sleep while you take the first watch. But you remain sitting, wrapped up in his warmth and the feeling of having a more normal version of Frankie really close by for the first time in months.

Despite the dangers of the open country around you, you can’t regret your decision to leave the QZ. You meant what you said to him while the withdrawals were plaguing his body; you’d rather have a little time with him out here than watch him waste away in the QZ.

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, looking out into inky darkness around your campsite.

“I love you too, hermosa,” he mumbles behind you and you feel his arms tighten their hold.

Chapter 35

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the last of us #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fluff #the last of us fanfiction #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fanart #francisco catfish morales

98 notes · View notes