#THAT SURE WAS INTERSTING TO WRITE

[shoot-of-corruption]

(VAMPIRIC STARTER PROMPTS) ❝ if you need to feed, you can bite me. ❞ (I cannot not send in a vampire meme, lmao. xD)

❝ if you need to feed, you can bite me. ❞

Even the laugh that he wrung from himself was underlain with hunger. "You don't know what you are asking for." The hiss escaped him in a low way, like there wasn't any air in his lungs, like all of his inside was empty... but something entered his gaze. Vampiristic entities had a certain bond to permission. Willingness to allow heinous acts was a strengthening of his wants... with every seduction that just grew more impertinent. He truly was a beast and he could be mindless and unable to control his urges.

But what Yuugi did here, bordered to suicide. It was like starving a dog for a week and then dangling a big steak right in front of their eyes.

"You think you can trust me, but that is a false assumption, my friend."

His teeth flickered at the other from between the tan lips, like a sharp warning signal. "You cannot trust a hungry animal. We are all animals of a certain kind, but the hungering, starving ones are the most dangerous. They lose every attachment to morality. All they can think about is food... all they ever want anymore is to quench the thirst. That is all that is able to exist in their mind."

He stepped closer, his fangs still very visible. "For you to stand there and think that I may be able or willing to control the monster that roars for blood is beyond idealistic." He leaned into the other ones face, teeth sinking just below his jaw, close to his jugular, he was still fighting, still wrangling with the last bits of his sanity.

"It is stupid~" The teeth skirted along his jaw, as if the teasing nature of the action was able to subdue the need to feed... like a mosquito bite that would hurt less, when you touched it, instead of outright giving into the urge to itch.

He almost lost the last remnants of his control, when he allowed himself the quick glance at that neck... he could see the vein pulse beneath the skin like a beacon. "Are you really willing to bet your life on it?" The sound of his voice was almost straining now... if Yuugi stepped back, simply trying to evade him now, he wouldn't know what he would do... shove him away, tell him to run, rip him open on the spot, completely tear him apart-

He swallowed audibly.

[bell-swamp-fitzjames]

i think if i let someone read this blanky and hartnell fic & afterward i told them "yeah i really just intended it for a platonic smoke" they'd be like huh well u have an interesting way of expressing that

[leafatlaw]

going to be a hater in the tags ;P

[ilikeevilblondes]

World’s Worst Chauffeur

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Joel Miller, your dad's best friend, ends up getting roped into picking you up from a party. Without the key to unlock your house or anybody to let you inside, Joel offers to let you sleep at his place for the night. Needless to say, the both of you don't do a lot of sleeping.

TL;DR: You convince old man Joel to dick you down.

W.C: ~6.2k

Warnings: dbf!Joel, unprotected p-in-v sex, praise AND degradation (whoops), big fat age gap (Joel is around 50, reader is 21), daddy kink for a sec soz, aftercare, slight size kink, cunnilingus through panties, cunnilingus, dry-humping, couch sex (no outbreak!)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62586064

Note: hey y'all, trying my hand at joel miller smut because i saw an edit of pedro pascal and literally licked the fucking screen protector, so i guess that's god's sign of telling me to write filthy shit. anyway, hope you enjoy! wrote this instead of a politics essay #yolo

“C’mon, Joel.” Your dad sighed, meeting his best friend’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

“Look, I—”

“Just this once. Please. I really can’t get out of this meeting, the board would kill me. Especially with the damn FTC breathing down our necks.”

You were visiting your hometown for Spring Break. Tomorrow night, there was going to be a party in a town fifteen minutes away from your own—one that you had been invited to. Your dad was supposed to give you a ride home, but as always, there was some last-minute work emergency. So, Joel was his solution.

The aforementioned solution frowned, crossing his large arms over his plaid torso.

“I got better things to do than chauffeur your little girl.” Joel shrugged.

That was, in fact, horribly untrue. His agenda for that night consisted of re-watching one of the Die Hard’s and drinking a nice, cold Coors.

“I’ll owe you one.” Your dad insisted.

“Desperate ain’t a good look on you, buddy.” Joel cracked a small smile.

Your dad ignored this jab.

“Joel, we’ve been friends for almost two decades. You’ve let me borrow your car, helped me paint my house more times than I can count, and even bailed me out of jail when I sped down the interstate.” He counted the feats off his fingers. “But picking my kid up is where you draw the line? Come on.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth.

The real reason he maintained his firm stance on not giving you a lift home was, really, a bundle of three smaller reasons.

One, ever since you turned eighteen you’ve made it painstakingly and increasingly clear you wanted to get in his pants.

Two, you were a huge flirt.

Three, he wasn’t so sure he could keep on resisting. But he had to. For god’s sake, what kind of a friend would bone his friend’s daughter?

Hopefully, not him.

“I–” Joel began but was shortly interrupted.

"I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You’re picking up my kid. She has no one else, and I don’t trust her friends to be sober enough to get her home without getting in some kind of drunk-driving accident."

He levelled Joel with a firm look.

"So, are you picking her up, or should I expect to see her name in tomorrow’s obituary because one of her little buddies got behind the wheel after doin’ a keg stand, or a gazillion games of beer pong or I don’t know—fuckin’ ‘Cheers to the Governor’?”

Your dad stared him down with an expectant look.

Joel took a second to process this.

He rubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and then met his friend’s stare with a sigh.

“Fine.” Came through gritted teeth.

Your dad patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He chirped happily.

———

And so, there Joel was.

Leaning against his old Chevrolet, idly spinning his keys around his finger, and staring at the front door of the party.

Several kids filtered out; stumbling into worn Honda Civics with disgruntled parents waiting in the driver’s seats, or with their arms interlocked and their sides almost melded together, giggling off to god-knows-where.

When you came out, you were part of the latter group.

Some blonde-haired boy—tall, but not too tall—was holding you close to him with a stupid smile on his reddened face. You mirrored it with a stupider smile of your own.

He whispered something into your ear that made you laugh and was promptly leading you in the opposite direction of Joel. But Joel was both keen and quick to intervene.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Joel called out, crossing his arms.

You froze and turned your head to lock eyes with none other than Joel Miller. Your neighbour, your dad’s best friend, and more importantly, your long-time crush.

“What are you doing here?” You arched a brow, slipping away from your friend and nearing him and his truck.

Your friend followed after you and settled by your side, resting an arm that hung a little too comfortably around your shoulder.

“Evenin’ to you, too, sweetheart. And to answer your question, I’m pickin’ you up.” Joel stated simply, then tossed a quick surveying look to the guy next to you. “Who’s blondie over here?”

“Daniel.” Blondie blinked and stuck out his free hand, glancing at you. Under his breath, he muttered, “you told me your dad couldn’t give you a ride.”

“He’s not my–” You started, but were immediately cut off by Joel.

“Get your hand off the girl, will you, Derek?” Joel narrowed his eyes at him, a dangerous look underlying his seemingly casual tone.

Daniel immediately did so, going so far as to step a pace back from you.

“It’s Daniel.” He coughed awkwardly. Then added, “sir.”

Joel ignored him—or, at least, didn’t show any sign that he had heard his correction—and turned around.

“Time to go home, young lady.” Joel said lowly. He opened the front passenger door, and upon finding you in the same spot as you were standing before he had turned his back, continued with, “that wasn’t a suggestion.”

You mumbled a quick ‘goodbye’ to Daniel and hopped inside the truck.

“Good girl.” Joel sighed, closed the door with a bit too much force and walked around the front of the car. He spared a few seconds to glare at your friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Suddenly, the engine thrummed to life and the two of you were headed down quiet suburban streets in the late hours of the night, leaving what's-his-name in the dust.

The air had been thick with a tension neither of you could describe and was further blanketed by a heavy silence broken only by the hum of the engine, the faint skid of tyres against asphalt, and your own rapid heartbeat pounding insistently in your ears.

Not five minutes had passed before Joel spoke up.

“Who was he?” Joel asked casually, his eyes still focused on the dimly-lit road ahead.

You sank further into the cracked leather of the front passenger seat.

“A friend.” You shrugged, not looking over at him.

Joel hummed a non-committal noise as he carefully took a turn into a side street, the truck slowly crunching over loose gravel. His grip on the wheel remained firm, but his eyes flickered over to you.

“Your daddy let you out of the house like that?”

You huffed out a short laugh and looked down at your choice of partywear; a low-cut top and some tight-fitting jeans. Not necessarily the most vulgar apparel, in your humble opinion.

“No, actually, he called the cops on me for indecent exposure, but I managed to escape.” You spat out sarcastically.

Joel didn’t find your comment funny. Or rather, there was no indication on his unwavering poker face that he had found it funny. Or was experiencing any emotion at all other than slightly tired.

The two of you sank into yet another silence.

“I’m not a kid, Joel.” You said after a minute or two.

“Like hell, you ain’t.” Joel scoffed.

“I’m in college, I can dress how I like.”

“Is ‘how you like’ a prostitute?”

You turned to face him fully, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

“That’s both slightly misogynistic and completely off-base, don’t you think?” You snorted, then smiled smugly to yourself. “Plus. Admit it, you like it.”

That threw him off-guard.

For the first time that evening, Joel showed a sliver of emotion. His eyes widened slightly as he opened his mouth, quickly closing it, and then opening it again to say, “what the fuck are you going on about, kid?”

“You were definitely staring at my tits.”

Joel was even more taken aback. First, by your absolute gall, and second, by your accuracy. He may have snuck a peek at your cleavage, but in his head, it was very discreet. But, fuck, did they sit perfectly.

“You’re drunk.” Joel shook his head.

“You didn’t deny it.” Your smile grew. “But yes, I am a little tipsy. Not drunk, though.”

“I noticed.”

“Just say the word, Miller, and I’ll flash you the twins anytime you like.” You leaned over the control arm, your eyes travelling along his tensing frame.

“Fucking Christ.” Joel breathed. He kept his eyes fixed on the road but released a hand from the steering wheel to rub the lower half of his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to do this favour for your father. You were already a handful while sober. And you had been a handful ever since you started college—making throwaway yet entirely flirtatious comments, pressing your tits against his chest a bit too much while you lingered after a hug, and wearing the tightest clothes known to man.

And now drunk? You were literally throwing yourself at him.

The worst part was that he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to you. In fact, his jeans felt a little tighter the closer you got.

Fuck, he was more than twice your age and here he was getting a hard-on—

Joel was suddenly violently snatched from his internal monologue when he felt your hand ghost over his lap.

“That’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it…? I can help with that.” You whispered, your tone almost pleading as your fingers gently traced over the front zipper of his jeans.

“Honey, sit back down.” Joel said slowly. His eyes remained intently glued onto the road.

Jesus Christ, he was fucked.

“Joel,” You practically whined.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucked.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said, more to himself than you as some sort of ill-justified dismissal.

“Tipsy.” You corrected helpfully, yet not retreating back to your seat. “But not really.”

Before he knew it, Joel was pulling up in front of your driveway, his grip on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Joel sighed. “You’re home.”

You glanced out the window disappointedly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You replied.

Joel muttered something to himself under his breath and got out of the car, quickly appearing by your side and opening the door for you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He nodded toward your house.

You got to your feet indignantly and marched up to your porch. Joel followed after you, leaning against one of the support beams of your front awning as he watched you dig through your purse.

After a few moments of your struggle, Joel cleared his throat.

“What?”

“Can’t find my key.” You frowned.

“I’ll call your dad.”

“Not home. And won’t be, ‘till tomorrow morning. He’s in the city for some work emergency, remember?”

Joel ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, visibly mulling something over, judging by the crease in his forehead.

“And you don’t got a spare key lying around somewhere? Under a flower pot or a welcome mat or shit like that?”

You shook your head.

If Joel were a better man, he’d have caught the glimmer of an ulterior motive dancing in your mischievous eyes. He would’ve brought up the spare key given to him for emergencies—this would’ve constituted as such. And he certainly wouldn’t have said what he had next.

“You can stay the night at mine.”

You blinked up at him, your hand frozen in the opening of your purse.

Joel straightened up, taking his weight off the support beam.

“Or you can sleep outside. Up to you.”

“I’ll take option number one.”

A few minutes and a trip across the road later, Joel had wriggled his key through the entrance lock and opened the door, inviting you inside.

Joel’s two-story craftsman was cosy and lived-in. The leather couch facing a moderately-sized flat-inch was slightly worn, the coffee table was cluttered with magazines and empty cans, and standing by its lonesome in a forgotten far corner of the living room was an acoustic guitar. More importantly, his house smelled like him; like warmth and vetiver and wood.

You had been a guest at his house on several occasions, but such instances had always been with the company of your dad.

That evening you found yourself free of his presence and, coincidentally, free of a conscience.

However fortunate your moral freedom was, it was only partially incited by your father’s absence. The four lukewarm cans of Lone Star you had chugged at the party may have had more of an influence on your risqué behaviour, because you sure as hell weren’t pushing Joel down on his leather sofa and straddling his lap with complete sobriety.

Joel let you take control, placing his big hands on your waist like they were always meant to be there while you moulded yourself against him, and met your lips with equal fervour when you smashed your mouth against his.

He sighed into the kiss and gripped your waist tighter as you slipped your tongue past his lips, ignoring the slight scruff of his greying stubble rubbing against your jaw.

But it was when you began slowly rocking your hips against the tenting figure in his jeans did he suddenly remember himself and wrench his face away from yours.

“Shit.” He panted, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving as he zeroed in on your kiss-swollen lips and your half-lidded, desperate eyes.

Why the fuck did he just do that? ‘That’ being the act of letting you kiss him, but he was just as equally angered with himself for stopping.

“We shouldn’t.” He shook his head, but his eyes were focused on your pretty, slightly parted lips.

“Why not?” You sighed, leaning closer.

Joel took your chin in his hand and held you at a safe distance.

“You know fucking well why.” Joel’s voice rumbled deep with frustration.

“Give me a reason.”

“I’ll give you three: you’re drunk, you’re barely eighteen, and your father is my best friend.”

You huffed out a noise of annoyance.

“I’m a little tipsy at worst, I’m twenty-one, thank you, and my father doesn’t have to know.”

Joel’s lip twitched. You were very persistent. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with you, he just knew he had to resist whatever fucking temptation this was.

“I’m old enough to be your father, too.” Joel frowned.

“But you’re not.”

“You should want someone your own age.”

“But I don’t.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth, subconsciously nearing your face once more. “This is so wrong.”

“Just once, Joel.” You pleaded, your eyes flooded with need.

“Fuck,” Joel shook his head, his brows furrowed as he once again lost himself in how pretty your lips looked; all puffy and raw. All because of him. “Honey–”

“Just this once.” You whined prettily.

At the sound, Joel unconsciously rocked up into you. Your hands immediately went to grab his shoulders to steady yourself; feeling a little lightheaded from the mere singular action.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Fuck.” He said again, breathing slowly.

Being as old as he was, Joel never expected to relive the days of his brazen youth when his only major problem in life was cumming in his pants after a pretty girl had barely touched him.

His dark eyes finally met yours.

You held your breath.

“Just this once?” He said.

“Just this once.” You confirmed.

“You won’t … you won’t try anything again?” Joel’s eyes dropped back down to your mouth and his thumb gently traced your bottom lip. His other hand slipped from your waist to the bare small of your back from underneath your blouse.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, but you shakily nodded your head.

Joel didn’t believe you.

But, fuck it, he captured your mouth in another hungry kiss anyway, closing his eyes and holdiing you against him.

He was definitely going to hell, but he would gladly do so just knowing he had felt heaven against his lips.

And, fuck, was that an unforgettable taste.

Joel gently trailed his chapped lips down your jaw, your neck, and lingered on your pulse point, all while one hand held you by your nape and the other against the skin of your lower back, idly caressing the base of your spine with his thumb.

Instead of the white-hot passion that had initially been the catalyst for this heated night, this moment was charged with an underlying tenderness. And all you could do was throw your head back and accept his tentative indulgence.

Though by the way Joel unintentionally bucked his growing bulge against your clothed mound as he peppered the crook of your neck with open-mouthed kisses, you could tell his delicacy was largely imbued by whatever ounce of restraint he inexplicably retained and was, by no means, a testament to his true nature.

He was holding back.

“Joel?” You whispered, carding your hand through his hair.

“Mmm?” He hummed into your skin, his eyes closed in bliss.

“I want…” You began, the words dying in your throat.

What did you want?

Well, his cock, definitely. More specifically, inside of you, but you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“Words, baby.” He pressed a final kiss onto your neck and pulled away the slightest distance to meet your gaze. His eyes were wrecked with lust; half-lidded and almost entirely swallowed by his dilated pupils. He softly took your face in the hand that was formerly resting against your nape. And when he spoke, his voice was low and rich with that sweeter-than-molasses Southern drawl. “Try that again. What do you want, honey?”

“You.”

“And you have me, don't you?” Joel said distractedly, his thumb lightly tracing your lower lip. His soft, umber eyes momentarily dipped down to your mouth as if he was debating on kissing you again.

And he was. Fuck, those lips of yours.

“No, I…” You breathed, your hand coming down in between your two bodies and palming his rock-hard erection through his denim. Joel hissed. “Can I suck you off?”

Joel’s eyes widened. You certainly held no room for subtlety.

“Fuck, honey.” He huffed. “Really know how to get to the point, don’t you?”

“Can I?”

Joel hummed.

“Can I be perfectly candid, sweetheart?”

“You have my blessing.” You arched a brow.

“If you so much as breathed on my dick right now, I think this night would come to a quick and rather … anticlimactic finish.” Joel sighed, breaking into a small smile. In true dad fashion, he then added, “pun not intended.”

You granted him the reward of a snicker for his antics. Then, you leaned close to his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin.

“If I had known that all I’d get from you was a dry-humping makeout sesh, I’d have stuck with Daniel.” You sighed, as casually as you could.

Without even looking at him, you saw the jealousy morph onto his aged face.

“Get on your fucking back.” He said, his voice measured, yet somehow equally unhinged.

You stilled, not expecting that much of a reaction from him.

“I said,” Joel met your gaze, his eyes holding a dangerous promise. “Get on your fucking back, young lady.”

And that was how you found yourself lying against the arm of a sofa older than the Great Depression with your jeans discarded in a wrinkled pile somewhere and your legs spread around the owner of said ancient sofa.

Joel crouched down in front of you, with one of your legs perched on his shoulder. He pushed your shirt up past your belly button and kissed a path down to the waistband of your panties.

His hand slid up your knee, then your thigh, and then stopped right against a particularly damp spot in your underwear.

“This for me or Daniel?” Joel hummed against your lower stomach, his stare flickering up to your face.

You bit your lower lip.

“You.” You said softly.

And then Joel lowered his head and kissed the patch of arousal. And then he kissed it again and again, basically frenching your cunt through your underwear. You could feel the pressure of his tongue against your swollen clit, sliding, only by a small margin as restricted by your godforsaken panties, in between your folds—

“Say that again for me, honey? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Fuck–” You gasped at the feeling. “You, Joel!”

“That’s what I thought.”

To your displeasure, Joel stopped whatever the fuck he was doing and his eyes found yours once more.

“Need me to eat your pussy now, sweetie?”

Yes, fucking please.

You might’ve said that out loud, judging from the pleased chuckle Joel let out.

Before you knew it, Joel slid your panties off your legs (pocketing them secretly—only to wash them on your behalf, of course, nothing dirty at all on his part) and then consequently salivated at the sight of your bare cunt.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Oh, honey.” Joel sighed, barely hiding his eagerness.

“It hurts…!” You breathed, your eyes flickering down to your pulsating core; dripping wet and throbbing in anticipation of him.

“Aw, it hurts, does it? I’ll kiss it better, hm? Is that what my pretty girl wants?” Joel cooed in a falsely-sweet tone.

He then held you still by the firm grip on your waist and leaned down right in front of your slick seam.

Joel tutted as he took in your desperate scent.

“So wet for me.” He mumbled, more to himself than you.

Without warning, much less another word, Joel dipped his head down to plant a kiss directly on your swollen clit, lapping at the swelling bud.

You gasped and a hand flung down to grasp his salt-and-pepper curls.

Joel smiled against your cunt and moved further down, his tongue lazily sliding through your folds and flicking inside your velvety walls.

In response, your grip on his hair tightened and you whispered something close to his name. Or God’s. Or anyone’s, really, you were teetering on the edge of unconsciousness from the sheer intensity of the situation, you could’ve been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, for all you knew.

“Mmm... fuck, you taste good, baby.” He mumbled against your heat.

Suddenly, Joel pulled away with a wet ‘pop’ and his eyes met yours. Upon seeing your lust-blown face, he smiled through his scruff—a slight shine evident around his mouth from your slick.

“Good?” Joel mused, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your hips.

You nodded deliriously and pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt—why the fuck was he still fully dressed—to taste yourself on him.

His lips moved hungrily against yours as he licked into your mouth. You were so consumed in the kiss, you barely noticed the sound of his belt unbuckling or his zipper sliding down.

It wasn’t until you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your seam that you noticed you were, very possibly, actually going to fuck your dad’s best friend.

Or rather, he’d fuck you. As long as you were fucked, you were fucking happy.

Your eyes flickered down to his length.

“Shit.” You gasped.

You always knew Joel to be a big guy; from his broad shoulders to his massive hands—no doubt incredibly useful in his line of work as a contractor. But seeing his fucking cock? You were still somehow surprised.

“Joel, I…” You blinked. “You’re so…”

Big. He was so big.

“Oh, c’mon baby, I know you can take it,” Joel said against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll go slow at first. That sound good?”

You nodded.

In hindsight, he should’ve worked you with his fingers first. That would’ve been the first thing he’d done after tasting your delicious fucking pussy, but he got lost in how good you felt against his mouth, he was too excited to feel how you’d stretch around him.

“That’s my good girl.” Joel hummed, satisfied. “I’ve got condoms upstairs, if–”

“I have an IUD.”

The four little magic words which really meant, please Joel, fuck me raw.

Being ever the gentleman, Joel planned on doing exactly that.

“Then eyes down, sweetheart. Want you to watch how I fuck you.”

Obediently, your eyes dragged down to the sinful sight of Joel taking his cock and slapping it a few times on your pussy, before just barely sliding inside. His weeping tip easily disappeared inside you, along with an inch or two, aided by the arousal coating your entrance.

He wasn’t even halfway in, but the thickness of his cock was unlike any other you’ve felt before. And, possibly, too much for you to take.

“Too big.” You whined.

Above you, a wicked smile grew on Joel’s face.

“Too big? D��you just say it’s too big? Well, tough luck, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t stoppin’.”

Joel continued to push forward, thrusting shallowly in, retreating, and then feeding you a little more of his length at a relaxed pace.

“My good girl can take it, can’t she?” He murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. He mumbled indifferently in between tasting your sweet skin, “after all, you were the one begging me so sweetly to fuck you a little while ago. Would be a damn shame if you couldn’t follow through with your own request…”

“I can.” You affirmed, squeezing your eyes shut from the overbearing sensation of being filled by him.

“Attagirl.”

And then, to test your claim, Joel finally buried himself all the way to the hilt, his balls slapping obscenely against your ass from the movement.

“Daddy–!” You gasped, your nails digging into his back.

Joel’s lip quirked upward in a small, amused smile.

“‘Daddy’, huh? Should’ve figured.” He tutted, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You want daddy to stop?”

“N-No!”

“Then take it—” Joel thrust into you, his tip deliciously kissing your cervix. “—like a good girl.”

And then he began a steady pace. Not too slow, but fuck, did he hit deep.

You could’ve sworn you were seeing little cartoon stars dancing around your vision from the plane of pleasure you found yourself on; otherwise known as being dicked down by Joel Miller, apparently.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Joel winced, his hips stuttering.

He really should’ve stretched you out with his fingers first, but there was no way in fucking hell he was going to pull out now. Not with how perfectly your cunt was wrapping and crying around him.

In fact, you felt so good, Joel was starting to feel a familiar sensation in his lower stomach that alerted him of how close he was to prematurely spilling inside you. Turns out, his unintentional celibacy (circa the fucking creation of MySpace) had a bigger impact on him than he would’ve liked.

“Yeah? Do I feel good, daddy?”

Fuck.

Joel’s dick twitched.

If this really was going to happen ‘just once’, Joel was damned set on, firstly, fucking your brains out without coming early, and secondly, making you reach your end before he reached his. Ladies and gentlemen, chivalry was alive and well in the twenty-first century.

Thinking intently about the starting lineup for the Cowboys game that Sunday, Joel began to pick up the pace, reaching places you’ve never been aware of until that precise moment.

Mesmerised by both the slight outline of his dick in your stomach and the sheer sensation of his heavy length, you took it upon yourself to encourage a quicker speed and moved your hips in time with him.

“Mmm,” Joel inhaled sharply, locking eyes with you. “Look at you, prettly little slut. Tryna fuck me back too, huh?”

Your walls clenched around him at his words. Mean as they were, his tone was still as sweet as honey.

“‘S okay. You take what you need, babygirl.” Joel dipped his head down to suck at your pulse point as he continued sawing into your drooling cunt.

“Need more. Please.” You all but whimpered.

“My baby needs more, hm?” Joel muttered against your neck, nipping at a freshly-made hickey. You yelped in response, but Joel only grinned as he muttered to himself, “she’ll get more. Filthy fucking whore.”

And then Joel sped up his thrusts, going in and out, in and out, at a brutal pace. Salacious, wet sounds filled his living room every time he shoved his fat cock inside you. That, combined with the unabashed moans spilling from your mouth, made the whole affair seem borderline pornographic.

Not that Joel was complaining, because you sounded pretty as a peach.

“Joel!”

“Fuck, that’s it, Joel!”

“Oh, Joel, you’re fucking me so well!”

Your moans came in tandem with every stab of his cock, blabbering desperate words of praise as your walls fluttered around him.

Joel sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, scream for me. Let the neighbours hear who’s fucking you so well, hm?” Joel lazily kissed your jaw. “You close, pretty girl?”

Unable to sound anything other than nonsensical syllables or his name or ‘daddy’ upon nearing your climax, you simply shook your head in an eager nod.

So Joel kept on mentally listing the fifty states to keep from joining you, and maintained his rapid pace.

“Go on, sweet girl, come on my cock. Let go, honey, I’ll catch you. ‘M right here.” Joel murmured sweetly, caressing your flushed cheeks. A total juxtaposition to the ruthless pace his hips were setting.

In and out. In and out.

In. And. Out.

And then his hand trailed down your bare stomach, lightly spidering over the faint outline of his dick jutting in and out of you, and settling on your very sensitive swollen bundle of nerves. His hand then began generously swiping at your clit as whispered sweet words of praise into your ear.

You clutched his bicep with an iron grip as you felt your high approach.

“Joel, I’m…!”

“Yeah, come on daddy’s cock. You’re so close, baby, just let go.”

And so you did. With a scream that reached God in the high heavens above, your walls clenched around him and you were nearly knocked out from the overbearing sensation of your intense orgasm.

Joel fucked you through it, unrelenting in his devoted momentum, his tip finding your cervix with every other thrust. And he continued fucking you through it, even after the last waves of your high, letting out low groans of pleasure.

When he saw your eyes refocusing, he slowed down for a moment, as reciting the ABC’s backwards was hardly working to calm his hard length.

“Don’t stop…” You mumbled, a bit sadly.

“Baby, I got no plans of stopping anytime soon, don’t you worry.”

And to prove his point, Joel kissed your right ankle and hitched your other leg over his shoulder, practically splitting you in half as he reached deeper inside you.

If he was gonna come, so were you. If the last thing he’d get to do on this godforsaken planet was send the pretty girl bent in half underneath him into two soul-shattering orgasms, he’d die a satisfied man.

Did he also want to show off and possibly ruin you for all men? Maybe.

Fuck, yes, he did.

He wanted you to be fucking addicted to the way his cock stretched your velvety walls, because he sure as hell was.

Screw the ‘just this once’ bullshit. He was gonna fuck you every damn night from now on, if you’d let him.

“Feels so good, Joel…” You whined pathetically.

Joel hummed in a self-satisfied sort of way and began pushing up your shirt to reveal your bouncing tits and leaned down to take a pebbled nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking at the nub, and nipping at the surrounding sensitive skin.

“Oh!” You gasped, jerking your head back.

Joel took it as a sign to continue, showing the exact same attention to your other nipple and maintaining his deep and rapid thrusts, causing the springs of the couch to whine in protest with every jut of his hips.

You let out a strangled moan.

“Joel—! Joel, it’s so…!” You panted, tears collecting in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s okay. Almost there. Almost there, baby.” Joel tutted, gently swiping away your tears with his thumb as he continued to fuck you like he was an interior designer from the way he strived to rearrange your guts. “You gonna be good and come around daddy’s cock a second time?”

Your walls tightened in response and you let out a breathy whimper.

“Good girl.” He smashed his mouth against yours and swallowed your moans, his lips moving in time with his hips. “Where do you want me to…?” He mumbled against your lips, his breath mingling with your own.

“Inside.”

“Fuck, babygirl, you sure?”

“Miller, I said, inside.” You made a point to fuck yourself onto him with deep movements of your hips, displaying your intent.

“Yes ma’am.” Joel smirked, absolutely fucking pussydrunk.

With that, Joel caught your lips in another searingly intense kiss, licking into your mouth as his thrusts continued to ram into your cervix while you held onto the couch for dear life.

And if that wasn’t enough sweet torture to your poor body, Joel moved one hand above you, gently laced his fingers with yours, and brought it back down to lay flat against your clit.

“Play with that pretty pussy, baby.” He whispered against your skin, his hand moving yours encouragingly. “Need you to give me another.”

With a shaky nod, you acquiesced, toying with your clit like you had a million nights before.

Except this time, instead of imagining it, you really had Joel fucking Miller in between your legs, sawing into your cunt like he wanted to break it.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel’s mouth twitched into a slightly proud smile against your skin.

It took Joel half a dozen more stabs into your slick mound before his hips began to stutter.

And then it took three more before he buried himself completely inside, and, with a gasp of your name accompanied by an appropriate expletive, painted your walls with hot ropes of his come.

“Fuck, daddy!” You moaned, your back arching off the sofa.

At the same time, for the second time that night, no less, you felt yourself reach another mind-blowing orgasm, your walls greedily sucking him in further and shaking around his thick length.

He continued to fuck his come into you with a few more slow, but deliciously deep rolls of his hips, before he stilled inside you and fell on top of your heaving chest, letting your legs fall back onto the beaten old couch, too.

It took a few moments for both of you to steady your breaths.

“Was that … okay?” Joel breathed, staring at you with furrowed brows, and gently tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I think I blacked out for a second there.” You smiled.

Joel laughed and kissed the corner of your mouth. Smug as ever, he muttered, “I take tips.”

“That’s funny, since I just took yours.”

You almost felt Joel roll his eyes.

Joel slowly sat up, gazing down upon the absolute fucking mess the two of you made; both your arousals leaking out of your mound and coating your thighs in a light sheen.

Tenderly, he began to pull out, wincing from both the feeling of leaving your warmth as well as the sight of your come and his collecting around his cock in a shiny ring.

“Sit tight, baby, I’ll get you something to clean you up.” Joel pressed a kiss to your collarbone, tucked himself haphazardly back in his jeans, and disappeared off into another room.

If he had stayed a second longer, you would’ve said something that testified to how hard he had fucked you, since you weren’t sure you could move anyway.

Joel returned a minute or two later with a damp towel and began to softly wipe away the remnants of your dalliance, delicately caressing your hip with his other hand.

“What a gentleman.” You purred, watching him with a stupid grin on your fucked-out face.

Joel threw the towel aside.

“You think so, sweetheart?” He hummed, leaning down to give you a quick, affectionate kiss.

“Never had this level of aftercare.” You admitted, laughing slightly.

Joel gently manoeuvered the two of you so you laid on your sides facing each other on his surprisingly roomy sofa.

“Still regret not goin’ with that Daniel boy?” He smirked, taking your chin in between his fingers and tilting your face toward his.

You swung your bare leg over his hip and pulled him closer. “Not at all.”

“‘S what I thought.” Joel hummed happily, bumping his nose against yours.

“And … y’know what I said about this being a one-time thing?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re definitely doing this more than once.”

“Thank fucking God.”

[rkvriki]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ things that make their heart flutter

HI I KNOW I'M BARELY ACTIVE ON THE TIMELINE IM SO SORRY LMAO. something really intersting is coming very soon so keep an eye out hehe!!! make sure to leave feedback and reblog! my requests are closed and my talk box is always open so lets talk!

WARNINGS ! mentions of hoon feeling down; my inspiration to write this was very low so the las ones ended up being longer than the first three im so sorry :'); mentions of won being stressed; ni-ki not being proud of himself :(

word count: 1.5k

୨୧ LEE HEESEUNG !

– kissing him when he’s still half-asleep

the sun rays started shining through the curtains, hitting your eyes. you slowly opened them trying to adjust to the strong (late) morning light. it had been a long week and you needed to sleep as much as you could, giving your body the rest it needed. you stretched your body before turning to the side, seeing your boyfriend still asleep with his arms stretched by his head. you smiled softly at the sight before you, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. when you pulled back you watched as his eyes fluttered, still in between sleep and reality. heeseung opened his eyes, trying to look at you, but sleep was stronger than him and his eyes closed back again. you let out a quiet laugh and leaned down to kiss his pouty lips this time. the corners of his lips twitched upwards and his cheeks were getting warmer, making you chuckle at him before kissing his cheek and getting up to start your day.

୨୧ PARK JONGSEONG !

– looking at him from across the table

you and jay had been invited to a dinner with all of your friends. it was in a very fancy restaurant. high ceilings and big chandeliers. you were sat with your girlfriends while he sat with his friends, further from you. you hadn’t seen them in what felt like forever, work had been keeping all of you busy now that the year was ending. you were all engaged in a conversation, keeping up with everything going on with each other and spilling the latest gossip at work. you were so immersed in the conversation you kind of forgot jay was there too and this wasn’t just a casual dinner with your friends so you looked behind you and saw jay with his sleeves rolled up, laughing with his own friends. it was in moments like this you wondered how you had scored a man like this. too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice jay looking back at you. when his eyes made contact with yours, you playfully winked at him, making him look away while blushing, making you laugh at his behaviour as you tuned back into the conversation.

୨୧ SIM JAEYUN !

– brushing his hair away

it was one of those peaceful days where both you and jake had a day off from work. jake had slept over at your house and you two spent the whole day basically doing nothing but enjoying each other company, which is something rare since lately he’s had a busy schedule because comeback is just around the corner. you had a whole movie marathon planned for the day and you were already on your fourth movie. the clock had just hit 7pm and you were starting to feel sleepy. jake was currently lying with his head on your lap as you were sat with your legs spread on the couch. you looked down at him, seeing him focused on the movie, his cheeks flushed from sleepiness. you smiled softly at the sight, your hand making its own way down to his cheek, caressing the soft skin. he looked up at you, smiling softly as he tried to rub the sleep off his eyes. his hair was falling on his eyes so your hand moved upwards to brush his hair away from his eyes. he closed his eyes at the touch as he felt his cheeks warm up and his heart flutter at the simple yet affectionate action.

୨୧ PARK SUNGHOON !

— running your hands through his hair as he speaks

today had been a long day for sunghoon. everything felt like it was going wrong. from the way his day started with him forgetting to bring his umbrella and getting soaked on his walk from work, him continuously making mistakes during dance practice to him spilling his drink he had ordered along with some food for lunch. his day was not bound to go well and he had already accepted his fate. he was so frustrated with himself. hoe could he keep making stupid mistakes during rehearsal? even though everyone kept reassuring him it was fine to have off days he just couldn’t be easy on himself. he just needed nothing but spend time with you and feel your confronting presence. sunghoon was currently lying down in your bed as you sat on the edge of it by his head. you were letting him ramble about his day. since the moment he stepped inside your house you knew something was up with him and if you didn’t insist on him he would just bottle all those feelings up. he was ranting about all his unpleasant events of the day as you looked down at him with a soft gaze. as he spoke he felt your hand starting to caress his hair until it was running smoothly through its strands, making him stutter his words. you laughed at him as he covered his face, hiding his blushing cheeks.

୨୧ KIM SUNOO !

– the way you stare at him when he speaks

sunoo is a very talkative person and he isn’t ashamed of it. he loves talking about the things he loves and sharing them with you. every time he is telling you about something that happened to him he will not miss any details. you obviously didn’t mind, you loved listening to him talk and you would do it for hours (as if you didn’t already). every time you didn’t see each other for a long time, like when he went on tour he would tell you everything that happened while he was abroad. it was happening today. sunoo had just come back from tour and you both missed each other more than anything so you took a day off to spend together. you both walked through the centre of the city, walking by the river as you watched all the people gathered there. you went shopping and stopped by a plush store and sunoo literally begged you to let him buy you one just because it resembled you. now, you were both taking a break in a cafe, eating every kind of pastry while drinking hot drinks as sunoo told you funny stories that happened during their concerts. you watched as he spoke with such a happy face, showing just how much he loved what he did. your head was propped in your hand as you stared at him lovingly. he stopped talking, hiding his blushing cheeks, scolding you for looking at him in such a manner. you just smiled and leaned forward to leave a peck on his lips.

୨୧ YANG JUNGWON !

– holding his hand when he’s stressed

being a leader is probably the hardest position to be in a group, especially when you’re a young one. now, jungwon loves being a leader, he loves to know that the members rely on and trust him like no one, but when he is expected to give speeches wherever they go, it gets him really anxious and even stressed. he’s done it multiple times and he almost always used to it, but sometimes, like today, he needs to talk to a bigger crowd in a bigger event. he’s been restless for the whole day, reading his script over and over again, trying to memorize it. you heard it so many times you could probably do the speech yourself without looking at the paper. he was sitting next to you on a couch backstage. his leg was bouncing up and down and he was sighing way too many times. you were getting worried he would get it all wrong just because of stupid nerves. you grabbed his hand, making him still in his movements. he looked at you and you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, making him smile and nod at you appreciating the comfort you were trying to bring him.

୨୧ NISHIMURA RI-KI !

– communicating without words

ni-ki loved performing more than anything in this world. it was what he did for a living and he couldn’t be more grateful for that. everyone, even without an artistic eye, could tell he was damn good at what he did, but somehow, he was never proud of his work. he would always point out flaws here and there that nobody noticed. he was too hard on himself and it made you sad that he couldn't see how good he does when he’s on stage. today was an important performance for him, he was going to have a solo dance project and he had been practicing so hard for it there was no way he would make a mistake. ni-ki had invited you to watch the recording and you gladly accepted. you watched him as he danced with the two backup dancers with such good chemistry. when the recording wrapped up he had to walk straight to an interview. he was walking past you and from the looks of it he wasn’t too happy with the result of things. he turned to look at you, seeing you nod proudly at him as you silently clapped and gave him a thumbs up with a grim, making him smile as looked down to the floor, visibly flustered and warmed up cheeks.

[iworshipsappho]

referring to your tags on the tamil poetry post

the thing about cramming taking the fun and beauty out of languages is SO fucking real and i hate it sm (thanks indian education <3).

this reminds me of sanskrit when i learnt it in school bc at one point i started to hate in it 10th standard bc ONLY the marks mattered (plus the teacher who took out tuition at home was a bhakt who said the most inane and genocidal shit about muslim folks but that's another story)

and fuck...tamil sounds difficult to learn sdkhksdf. reminds me so much of malayalam with its koot-aksharam which are so difficult to figure out lol. according to my mom, malayalam grammar is hella difficult too so...yay

anyway power to tamil poets aksjhksd with all those strict grammar rules like wtf. thinking of shakespeare on the other hand who did whatever the fuck he wanted to do

(also psst psst gimme some good tamil poem recs na...i will try and search for its translations)

asdhsfhsk yeah the indian education system is so fucked in several aspects :') and yeah shitty teachers just ruin everything (the entitlement some of them have-)

tamil used to be so easy to learn back in like 1st-3rd grade bc as a mother tongue it was just very simple as we werent expected to actually write in like very proper tamil and the lessons were simple enuf. shit went bad in 4th grade and its been downhill ever since. the lessons are fun when u learn them but even then the teachers need to be like nice and interactive or you'll just fall asleep during class (which has unfortunately happened more than once this year for me)

and like when our teacher was talking about the yaapu illakkanam (grammar for poetry) i remember the whole class just groaning bc the only thing we were thinking was "if its so difficult why do we still have so many poems to study😭😭" i truly do not understand how thiruvalluvar, bhaarathiyar, avvaiyar and so much more wrote so many works- like ?????! honestly speaking english writer's have so much creative freedom and like they do smth that "breaks" the rules of grammar? boom genius who goes beyond what is accepted and is considered one of the greatest ever ashdsjfkgh

and for the poem recs hmm- i mean we have the staple thirukkural and avvaiyaar's athichoodi. the latter was one of the first ever set of poems we were taught when our languages started, its pretty simple to understand and like the starting letter of each line is in the order of the uyirezhuthukkal. and we have like 20 thirukkurals to learn each year so- (i have to learn and memorise ten and their meanings for just tmrw's exam :'])

but the poem i was talking about in post was இளைய தோழனுக்கு by மு.மேத்தா... and honestly that is one of the very few poems, like i said, that i actually enjoy fdhfjshgk

and sorry to disappoint, but even tho i have been studying and speaking in tamil for as long as i can remember, i cant remember any of the good poems ive read/learned 😭😭 my mind is just like blank except for the stuff ive studied for tmrw :')))

(will definitely let you know if i remember or come across smth nice, maybe that will help me actually develop an interest in the language...)

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Tornado Nightmare

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> It's no secret you and Tyler didn't get along. But when you have a nightmare and you trust him to help you, things begin to change.

Disclaimer: I don't know how this one is considering I took a break in between writing it, but I hope you enjoy it ❤ Mostly fluff, enemies-is to lovers, Tyler takes care of reader, Wrangler shenanigans, becoming unlikely friends, light swearing, mentions of nightmares. Not Proof Read.

It was no secret you and Tyler didn’t get along. It wasn’t anything personal…or maybe it was? It had been so long since you’d both met, you couldn’t remember the exact moment you’d both gone from being strangers to being…well, whatever the hell you called two people who shared the same friendship group and work colleagues but never seemed to be on the same page with each other. 

It had been one petty fight after the other. Which tornado to chase, whose data was clearer in the field, what way to cut the film in order to make the best trailer, which motel to stay at, which restaurant was better, which screw to use to secure down the bar along the top of the roof. It had also been a lifetime of constant heated glances and disgusted faces when you both spotted each other despite knowing you’d be meeting. 

In fact, it didn’t take long before Tyler banned you from his truck. Sometimes you’d piss him off by touching the rim of the flatbed when the others were sitting on the back of it in the evening. 

But he was also banned from stepping foot on your porch. If he wanted inside, he’d have to find a way in through a window. The only time you’d let him step foot on it was when he threatened to pee on your lawn. 

For the others it was annoying; at first. But, when they realised Boone had been playing a secret game with both yourself and Tyler, your rivalry with each other became a form of entertainment. 

Counting how many groans Tyler would give in a minute when you talked, how many eye rolls you’d do until you’d get eyestrain. There was also a bet going on each day for who would crack first and start the long needed argument of the day; you or Tyler. 

So far, you were winning in that department. There was just something about Tyler that got under your skin even when he wasn’t around. Most of the extra argument you had with him had started with yourself against, well, yourself. 

However, there seemed to be an accepted concept that only you and Tyler were allowed to fight each other. If anyone else wanted to argue or start something with you or Tyler, away from those working as a Tornado Wrangler, they’d get an earful. 

The others had seen it. 

Twice in a bar in Arkansas where Tyler had stepped in front of you after two different men on two separate occasions started to get a little more physical with their opinions. Despite what your feelings were for each other, you were still a part of Tyler’s team. He and the others could fight you on different opinions – verbally, never physically – but others had to know where to leave their opinions. 

And three times in diners up and down the interstate. Granted, two of those occasions were because of one specific StormPar analyst who clearly didn’t get the message the first time round; but the second was a complete stranger who called Tyler some things that didn’t agree with you. Not only was he attacking Tyler for his job, but he was indirectly attacking your profession. So you stood up for him, and the other Wranglers. And, indirectly, StormPar. That part you hated, but at the end of the day, you all had the same job. 

But one day, the rest of the Wranglers were met with a scene they never in a million years thought they’d discover. 

You and Tyler, in a kitchen together. Your kitchen. Where the knives, and scissors and other kitchen utensils that could have been used as a weapon were kept. Cooking. Dancing. Talking. Laughing. 

Together.

“Should…” Kate looked around at the others to make sure they were seeing the same thing she was. “Should we do something?”

Dani gave her a similar expression. “I..I don’t know what’s even happening right now.”

“You are seeing what I’m seeing, right?” Boone asked, unable to take his eyes from the kitchen window and backdoor. 

“Uh-huh.” Was the main consensus. 

“Good,” Boone almost whimpered. “Good. Just wanted to check.”

“Do we just…go in?” Lily asked but Dexter held out his hand. 

“N-not yet. I want to see what happens. We might not see this again.”

So they did. For ten solid minutes. 

Neither you or Tyler had heard or seen them, so you just continued cooking. Obviously, they’d noticed a slight difference in both you and Tyler in recent weeks. There were less fights. There wasn’t always complete agreement, but since no fight was made, acceptance was the only thing left to do. 

But never had they expected the recent silences to lead to…whatever the hell was happening to you and Tyler. 

Whilst watching you and Tyler in the kitchen, Lily and Kate let out two small gasps which they managed to cover up with the help of Boone and Javi. 

Tyler had touched you. Walking behind you to get to the stove, he’d laid a gentle hand on your hip, guiding you to the side as you reached into the cupboard. And you didn’t yell. You didn’t curse him out. 

In fact, you smiled. 

You both smiled. 

The rest of the Wranglers continued to watch on in intrigue. 

Meanwhile, inside the kitchen, both you and Tyler had no idea of what spectacle was going on outside. 

It had been an odd transition for you and Tyler; going from arguing over almost every little thing to civil understanding and preference of each other. 

And it had all started weeks previously in a crappy motel room in Oklahoma. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve stayed here before. The owner hates me.” Boone said as he lifted his bag from the back of Tyler’s truck. 

“No she doesn’t.”

“She does! Man, I’m telling you, the lady hates me.”

You opened up the passenger door to Lily’s car and stepped out, laying your hand on the roof of the car. “And why would she hate you?”

Boone got a little sheepish. “I dunno. She just does.”

“Maybe because the last time we stayed here you did a cartwheel into her trash cans and woke the entire motel.” Dani pointed out. 

“It could have been raccoons.” 

Tyler laid a hand on Boone’s shoulder. “No raccoon can scream ‘help, I think I’ve made a banana split with my elbow’.”

Moving towards the office, yourself and Kate booked into the last rooms available before handing everyone their keys. There were two twin rooms so Boone and Tyler took one and Dani and Kate took the other. That left you, Lily, Dexter and Javi to the other single rooms. 

Since your room was on the second floor with Tyler, Boone and Lily; Dexter placed your bags by the bottom of the stairs. 

And Tyler was about to carry yours up when you got there before him. 

“I can carry my own.”

He lifted his hand away and picked up Lily’s instead. “Alright.”

You started making your way up the stairs, Tyler hot on your heels. “You know, it’s okay to accept help sometimes.”

“I’m aware.”

“I would have left it outside your door.”

“I don’t need your help. I can do it on my own.”

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, the bags over his shoulders. “Okay. I’m just saying I won’t hurt to just accept help every once in a while.”

You reached the top of the stairs. “But I didn’t need it. I’m a grown adult, Owens. I can carry my own stuff.”

Twenty minutes after getting settled you headed back down to the trucks and sat beside Dani and Kate. The rest of the night went as smoothly as normal. Laughter, stories, petty arguments over how to make chilli, more stories, discussions over which tornado to chase the next day, disagreements over which one to choose, shared hatred for StormPar and not wanting them to get one up on the Wranglers, a few more tales and jokes from Boone before he spotted the owner walking across the parking lot which forced him into hiding in the back of Tyler’s flatbed; all before finally going to bed. 

But as you drifted off into a seemingly dreamless sleep, there was no way to prepare yourself for what you would wake up to. 

Tyler Owens in his pajamas. 

Boone had started snoring almost the minute his head hit the pillow. Sometimes Tyler was envious of how deeply Boone could sleep. Some mornings it took both himself, Lily, Dani and you to wake him up. 

It was usually the only time in the morning where you and Tyler didn’t argue over how to wake Boone up. You’d bicker with him about being unable to wake Boone up before you’d walk into the room and realise why. 

The first time it happened, you’d both bickered in hushed tones over how best to wake him up and that maybe Tyler hadn’t tried hard enough. Then you came to an agreement. 

Dani and Lily went and grabbed a duvet and some extra sheets to lay on the floor before Tyler counted to three and lifted the mattress from underneath Boone with you. 

It was the only thing other than a true tornado siren that could wake him. 

Tyler on the other hand…he was a light sleeper compared to Boone. Though, most people would be light sleepers compared to Boone. 

Usually it took a good twenty minutes before Tyler would be able to fall asleep and if he heard anything out of the ordinary, like trash cans falling, alarms going off, doors opening or closing, or something heavy hitting the ground, he’d wake up. 

And that was why he found himself looking around his room in the darkness when he stirred awake before he heard something heavy hit the ground before a glass smashing on the ground followed it. 

It wasn’t in his room. Boone was still snoring. The lamp was still on his bedside table. The same went for Boone. 

Then something popped into his head. 

The only room he shared a wall with was yours. On the other side was just a very dense wall. 

Then in the silence, he heard a voice. Your voice. 

Whipping the bedcovers from him, he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and darted out of his room, trying his best to not wake Boone in the process. He couldn’t alert everyone. For all he knew you were still awake and had dropped one of the box files off your bed or something. 

But when he stood outside of your room, there was no light in the window and the curtains were drawn completely. So he knocked lightly, but you didn’t answer. But your voice was a little louder. You sounded…stressed. Panicked. 

So he tried the door handle and when it opened after the third try, he made a mental note to let the owner know the door locks were still shitty. Then he opened it up. 

You felt like your entire body was being crushed underneath the rubble you’d found yourself caught in. Children were screaming and crying for their parents, the sky just kept growing darker until the wind that was howling started roaring together like every King of the Jungle had decided to descend on a small town and take out each building that stood, one by one. 

But just as the pressure of the air started forcing your lungs to your spine, a gust of air was let into your lungs again as you shot up and found two hands on your arms. 

Your legs kicked around, trying to find familiar ground. All the while, your entire body had gone from fire hot with clammy air to freezing cold with the amount of sweat that was being attacked by fresh air. 

And just as you came to realise where you actually were, you came to recognise the voice that the extra set of hands belonged to. 

“Hey, take it easy. Take it easy, it’s me.” Tyler told you. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me. It’s Tyler. Look at me, it’s me. Take it easy.”

Finally setting your feet on rough carpet, your vision managed to focus in the dark and you found Tyler in his pajamas crouching on the floor in front of you. 

“Tyler?”

“Yeah,” his voice was soft as he spoke to you. “It’s me. I heard a thud. Are you okay?”

You looked at him but you couldn’t find the words to answer him. Your entire body was shaking from the shock of reality and from the nightmare you’d just been trapped inside of. 

“Sorry.” Tyler quickly apologised. “That was a stupid question. You don’t have to answer that.”

You didn’t know what to do, so you just held onto his hand. 

“You’re shaking.” Tyler whispered. “Here.” 

Standing up, he reached for the top blankets from your bed before he wrapped it around your shoulder, tucking your hair behind your ear before kneeling back on the floor. 

“Just, take some deep breaths.” Tyler took hold of both of your hands. “Follow me. In, and out. In, and out. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry.” You eventually spoke, but Tyler just looked at you both concerned and confused.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. Was it a nightmare?”

You swallowed thickly as you nodded. “Yeah.”

Tyler had never heard your voice as weak as it was when you said that. 

“Do they happen often?”

You shook your head before taking a deep breath and tucking your hair back behind your ear. “They used to, but I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, unable to bring yourself to use words. So Tyler just nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”

Then he went to stand and instinctively, you reached out for his hand. “Don’t…don’t leave. Not yet. Please?”

Looking up at you, Tyler’s expression softened. He could still feel your hand trembling in his, and he could see the fear in your eyes at the thought of being left alone in that moment. 

Tyler shook his head as he stood. “I’m not going anywhere. Come here.” 

Leaning up, Tyler pulled you into a hug and within an instant, you hugged him back. He could feel your fingertips making imprints in his back as you held onto him for dear life. And then he did something that he wouldn’t think about until long into the afternoon the next day. 

He pressed a kiss to your head as he leaned back before he stood and sat next to you on the bed. There, he placed a comforting arm around you as he pulled you inside his side and he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head. 

Then he saw the time on your phone where a weather warning notification popped up. 

“We should try and get some sleep. I’ll stay with you. Let me get you some water.”

You didn’t say a word, but you were thankful nonetheless. 

Tyler pressed a third kiss to your head before he stood and helped you back onto your bed where he lifted up the bed covers before letting them float back down on top of you before he moved towards the bathroom, collecting and replacing your lamp onto your bedside table and grabbing a fresh glass from the tea and coffee station on your desk. 

Tyler sat on the edge of the bed beside you as he handed you the glass which you took with a shaky hand. He took it back from you before putting it down and getting into bed beside you. 

He didn’t say anything else other than; “You’re safe.” when he clasped your hand in his between you both in your bed. 

Waking the next morning, your hand was still in his. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Looking up from where your eyes were focused on your hand in Tyler’s, a small smile gracing your face before you could stop it, you were met with Tyler. 

And, for a moment, all sense of ability to talk left you. If someone would have told you that waking up next to Tyler Owens wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

“Good.” You eventually answered him, your voice in a whisper. “Thank you for staying.”

Tyler just smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

You felt yourself smile before you looked away and back at your hand that was still in his. Feeling his fingers float over your skin before he pressed a small squeeze to your hand, your squeezed back. However, just as you felt yourself move closer towards Tyler, his grip getting a little steadier in your hand, a knock came to your door. 

“Y/n! Come on! You’re gonna miss it!” 

Kate’s voice rang through your room before she ran next door and banged on Boone’s door. 

“Boone! Tyler! Come on! Javi’s got a reading! Hurry!”

You and Tyler sprung from your bed and ran towards the door whilst Boone was slowly dragging himself from his bedroom, unaware that Tyler wasn’t in his room with him. 

You and Tyler squinted in the bright light of the morning before looking down the hall and seeing Boone shuffle out of his room wrapped in a blanket. “Tyler, man, Kate-” He yawned. “Kate’s calling.”

“Man, I’m here.”

Boone opened his eyes. “Oh. Kate’s calling.”

With a small sigh, you walked towards the balcony and looked over the edge. “Kate!”

She ran out from underneath it, a wide excited smile on her face. “Come on! Before we miss it!”

Both yourself and Tyler looked at each other before looking at Boone. 

“I’ve got him. Just get dressed.”

You nodded and ran back into your room, hearing Tyler force Boone back around to get dressed. Three minutes later you threw the door open just as Tyler and Boone left their room. 

“Guys! Come ON!”

“Alright, alright, we’re coming.” You said as you walked down the stairs. 

Boone yawned again. “What time is it anyway?”

Tyler looked at his dash. “A little after seven.”

“Seven?!”

Kate was rushing behind you, shoving different things into the van. “Y/n, you go with Tyler. I want to catch the data on this one.”

You didn’t have time to respond, but Tyler caught the look of growing fear in your expression. 

“It’ll be okay. You’re safe.”

Taking his word for it, you nodded before hopping into the back of his truck behind his seat whilst Boone crawled into the passenger seat, starting up the video to complain about the time of day but ultimately what they were doing. 

Kate ran past his window in a rush explaining what she and Javi had found. 

Looking in his rearview mirror, Tyler spotted you. 

“It’ll be okay. There’s a harness and-”

You looked at him and nodded. “I trust you.”

Tyler didn’t know what else to say, so he just stayed quiet and smiled. You’d never actually said those words out loud, that you trusted him. You’d also refused to go in his truck with him – even before he banned you from it. 

But he believed you. 

Because you meant it. 

If you didn’t trust him, you wouldn’t have agreed to Kate’s offer. If you didn’t trust him, you wouldn’t work with him. 

Deep down, if you didn’t trust him, you wouldn’t have asked him to stay. 

Twenty minutes later, you were all heading towards the town before taking a sharp right and heading straight towards the rolling crop fields. Then you went off road. 

It was bumpy to say the least. Shaking you all in your seats, Boone tried to get some usable footage out of it before you turned to the radio for Kate’s next instruction. 

“Watch out for a dip. Apparently one of the farmers tried to dig a mine out here.” Javi called out over the radio just before you spotted it. 

“Tyler, watch out for the dip!”

“On it.”

Turning the steering wheel, he should have avoided it. But apparently it was a lot wider than it seemed, sending you all rocking out of your seats and back again twice over. In the meantime, your hand had gone from holding onto the back of Tyler’s chair to hold you steady, to holding his shoulder to pull him back down. 

“Hold back, guys.” Tyler called out over the radio. 

“You guys okay?” Lily asked. 

“We’re fine.” Tyler lifted his hand and rested it over yours that remained on his shoulder, his thumb stroking at your knuckles. “Just shook up. Kate, you got any sign of that tornado.”

Two days later, everyone was back at Kate’s farm and you had driven home but not before leaving something by Tyler’s door. 

However, a few hours later, a familiar truck started pulling up your driveway and towards your home. 

Sitting on the porch swing, you were backlit by the warm lights of the living room lamps whilst Tyler was swimming in the blanket of the night sky and stars. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Tyler said before he stopped, six feet short of your porch. “I got your pie.”

“I made it as a thank you,” you said. “You…you didn’t have to stay when…when you did.” Your eyes fell from his gaze to your hands as you picked at your fingers. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Tyler said as he shook his head, walking forward some more until he was walking up the steps of your porch. 

Then he leaned against the wooden pole. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You looked away again, back at your hands. “They’re nothing.”

“Y/n…” 

With a few moments of silence exchanged in between your shared look with Tyler, you eventually let that wall down. “They’re nothing big. Really. They can just be…intense?”

Tyler waited and listened to every word you wanted to say. 

“I used to get them more but in the last couple of years they’ve just been as common as regular nightmares. Just a little more intense.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “You’re the only one.”

“What about Kate?”

You shook your head. “No. It just…never came up. The other night was the first time it’s been like that for a while.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded as you looked at Tyler. “It was about all of us. We got trapped by an EF-3 but it just kept growing until I was under it. When you came in, a pile of rubble had just been dropped from the tornado.”

“Does something trigger them?”

You could only shrug. “They just kinda appear on their own, I guess.”

Tyler could see the weight that you carried on your shoulders because of it. The way your entire body seemed tense whilst you tried to force it to relax. The way you picked at your fingers, trying to force away the memory of being in that nightmare. 

Looking around your land, he got an idea. 

“Come with me.”

“What?”

Tyler turned around and ran down your porch stairs. “Come on.”

“Tyler-” You had to stand to see him as he ran off back towards his truck. “What are yo- Where are you going?”

Holding something in his hand, he ran to his flatbed before running off towards the side of your house and into the grass field. 

“Just come on!”

With a small huff of curiosity and slight worry that Tyler had completely lost the plot, you ran over and followed him before you found him removing his boots and socks. 

“Tyler, what are you doing?”

“We’re dancing.”

“What?”

Tyler just held a wide grin on his face as he set the tape into the player. 

“You need to relax; get out of your head. So, we’re dancing.”

You looked down at his feet and back again. “Barefoot?”

“Are you gonna keep fighting me on this, or are you gonna join me?”

Pressing play, he turned the dial up and ran out into the grass. You had two options; leave him on his own and remain on the sidelines. Or, take your shoes and socks off and join him. 

You chose option two. 

Curling your socks up inside your shoes and leaving them by his boots, you went out into the short grass field and joined him. 

And you just…

Danced. 

Leading you in a two-step, Tyler spun you around the grass until you found yourself in a fit of giggles. You didn’t know how long you and Tyler danced, but it was long enough for the songs on his tape to transfer towards slower songs that meant you and Tyler were slow-dancing under the stars whilst barefoot in the grass. 

With one of your hands clasped in his, a hand on your waist and your hand on his arm, Tyler leaned into you. His cheek resting against your temple, you both swayed gently with the breeze all the while, blades of grass softened under your feet. 

“Tyler?”

He hummed. 

“I know you said I don’t have to thank you-”

“Y/n.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he said your name. 

You leaned back to look at him. “No, I mean it. You’re the first person to ever do this for me, and given our track record, nobody would have blamed you for ignoring me completely.”

A small smile graced his lips. “I’d never ignore you, Y/n.”

“But no one would have blamed you.”

Tyler just shook his head before turning you out and around, then pulling you back in. “If I ignored you, I’d never be able to thank you for the pie. How did you know apple was my favourite?” 

You felt yourself laugh. “Tyler, I’m being serious.”

Holding you back in his arms, Tyler nodded. “I know. But so am I. I’d never ignore you, Y/n. You’re too important to me.”

“I thought we hated each other?”

Tyler just shook his head. “I’ve never hated you, Y/n. You might have been the biggest pain in my ass for a while, but I never hated you.”

“Not once?”

“Not once,” he confirmed. 

You felt your heart sink a little with guilt. “Now I feel bad.”

Tyler just chuckled. “Don’t be. We were a thorn in each other’s side. Besides, I think it’s been giving the others some pretty good entertainment.”

“You know about Kate and Boone, too?”

Tyler gave you a confused look. “I was talking about Javi and Dexter. Wait, what happened with Kate and Boone?”

“They’ve been running some kind of bet on us for months.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t noticed?”

Tyler shook his head. “No.”

“Why do you think Kate keeps making scores in that little notebook of hers?”

“The blue one?”

You shook your head. “The brown one.” Then you remembered. “Why? What’s happening with Javi and Dexter?”

“Just whisperings. I can’t believe they’ve been keeping score.” Tyler paused for a moment. “Who do you think’s winning?”

Laughing, you pushed Tyler away before he took hold of your hands and pulled you back in with a twist. 

After that night, things started to change between you and Tyler. There were less petty arguments, but some more purposeful ones remained in order to make sure Kate was, in fact, keeping score. 

She was. 

There were also less intense glares, more silent conversations being had, even when a rodeo crowd separated you both. 

And then something else was added into the mix. 

You couldn’t quite place what it was but it was…something. Something that, each time you locked eyes with him, it made your heart jump inside your chest. Something that made you want to see his smile more, and hear his voice more. Something that made you want to be surrounded by him. 

What you didn’t know was that you weren’t alone in the feeling. 

Each time Tyler saw your smile, heard your laugh or felt your hand by his, his heart seemed to want to explode inside his chest. Of course, he wasn’t a stranger to the feeling. He’d had the same feelings for you for a while. 

The first time it happened was when he’d seen a genuine smile spread across your face when sat around the campfire by his truck when Boone was attempting to reenact Lily’s middle school cheerleading solo. 

He’d seen you smile before – though it was rare – but he’d never seen…you. In the glow of the campfire, joy in your eyes and smile, he knew he would wait a thousand lifetimes just to see you smile like that, again. 

Since dancing with you barefoot in the grass, Tyler had only seen your smile more. 

Which only made him fall faster. 

It all came to a head one evening. He’d just parked in your driveway, walking up the steps of your porch when you opened your front door with two tins of paint in your hands. 

You’d been painting your porch since the weather was nice and no storms were expected to develop over the next few days. Since he had some time free, he offered to help.

And sat on the grass, hours later, watching the clouds roll by in the sunset; your fingers and arms splattered with white paint, you and Tyler talked. 

Until, eventually, you both walked over to the tin bucket and began to wipe the paint away. 

“It’s not coming off.”

“Come ‘ere.” Tyler took your hand in his before dunking the cloth into the water and wiping away the stubborn paint on the edge of your palm. 

It was then that the world seemed to get quiet. There were no loud noises from up above, there were no incoming tornado warnings or people bustling about during the rodeo. There were no teammates trying to keep score of words or tones. 

There was just you and Tyler. 

Whether he kissed you, or you kissed him, first would be up for debate later. But until then, all you wanted was to be with him. To have his hands in yours. To have his lips on yours. To have his arms wrap around you in such a way that, for the first time, ever, you felt stable. All noise was drowned away, all worries cut their ties from your mind until all that was left was pure happiness. 

Which brought you to the moment all the Wranglers had agreed to come to your home for the day to take a break from the data, and the science. and the dragging of time being sat on the phone with different companies whose interest only ran so far into meteorology. 

“What time are they supposed to be getting here?”

You looked at the clock on your kitchen wall. “They should have been here twenty minutes ago.”

Tyler’s brow furrowed. “I’ll give them a call.”

And so he did. 

Which resulted in the Wrangler’s time of being super secret spies, being over. 

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Interstate 40 | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You go into labor. 

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for requesting. xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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! Warning: child birth, blood, pain !! 

You were out at the barn, filling the chickens feed and water when Tyler stormed into the barn. You’re pretty sure you saw smoke coming out of his ears, his face red. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks immediately taking the scoop from you, “you’re supposed to be resting! Doctor’s order!” His eyes are large as he stares at you. 

You wave him off, “Tyler come on, I’ve been doing this the entire pregnancy. Nothing new to me.” You yank the scoop back from him, “I was going stir crazy laying in bed.” 

You were 9 months pregnant, 39 weeks to be exact, ready to go into labor at any time. Your body was ready, but baby Owens had yet to say they were ready just yet. Your doctor had told you to take it easy after a fainting spell. Everything checked out, baby Owens was perfectly healthy and your doctor gave you the green light to head back home and get some rest. 

Tyler had took this very seriously, making you stay in bed, and insisted on waiting on you hand and foot. He’d only left you alone for an hour to run into town to get groceries. 

“What if something happened out here while I was gone? huh? What if you fainted and hit your head or something?” 

You sigh, seeing his point, “I’m sorry.” You frown, “but Tyler, really I was going crazy. I needed to do something.” 

“knit the baby a blanket. Something where you’re not on your feet.” He grabs your shoulders, leading you out the barn. 

“Tyler-” you groan, “you know I don’t know how to knit!” 

“Perfect time to learn then.” 

As the two of you near the porch, you get a cramp in your stomach. It wasn’t too strong, but you noticed it. “ooh.” You clinch your eyes shut, placing a hand on your stomach, and bending over slightly.

“What? Oh god, is it time? See I told you-” 

“Tyler, chill.” You take a deep breath, the pain easing. “I’m sure it’s just Braxton hicks. I’m fine. I’ve been having them every little while.” 

“are they consistent?” 

You shrug, “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t paid too much attention. That’s the first one that's been more intense.” You start up the stairs of the porch. 

“You could be in labor.” Tyler says following you, “We probably need to head to the hospital.” 

“I promise I am not. We’ll know for sure when it's time.” You sigh, taking a seat on the rocking chair. 

“You’ll let me know if they get worse right? You know the nearest hospital is an hour away.” He warns. “You have to let me know in time. I am not delivering our baby on the side of the highway.” 

~ 

“You told me they were Braxton hicks!” He argues. He’s currently speeding down the interstate, swerving in and out of traffic. People are honking left and right. 

You let out a scream, hand gripping his shirt in one hand and the other on the grab handle. 

Tyler screams with you, in full blown panic mode. You were still 45 minutes away from the nearest hospital. Your water had broke a little bit ago and soon after that the contractions began to get more and more intense, and closer in time. Your labor was progressing fast. 

You’re doing your lamaze breathing, trying to stay calm, “I’ve never been in labor before, how was I supposed to know I was actually in labor?!” 

You groan as another wave of a contraction hits, “Tyler something-” You reach down to feel, bringing your hand back up, fingers covered in blood. “S-Something is wrong.” 

Tyler glances at your hand, his heart drops, face going pale. if something happens to you.. or the baby. He’d never forgive himself. He shouldn’t have left. He should have forced you to go to the hospital earlier. His foot goes heavy on the gas, engine revving loudly. 

A new feeling shows itself, “I feel like I need to shit-” Your eyes are wide, staring at Tyler. “Tyler- oh fuck I’m about to have this baby on the side of the god damn interstate, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t panic-” He knew enough from hearing stories to know what that meant. That was the key indicator baby was coming and it was coming NOW. “but yes.” 

“oh my god!” 

He’s immediately pulling the truck to the side, horns blaring as he cuts someone off. He comes to a skidding stop, jumping out of the truck. He’s throwing the door open on your side in a split second. Now it’s him who is calm. He’s rolling up his sleeves, pulling out his phone to call 911. He’s delivered a calf before. Same thing right? 

“I am NOT having this baby in your truck!” Your panicked eyes find his calm ones, shaking your head. “I can wait until the hospital.”

“You have no choice.” He helps you slide out of your pants in the seat, simultaneously telling the 911 dispatcher what’s going on, your location and gathering supplies he needs. Where did this calm, collected Tyler come from? He was panicking only 30 seconds ago. 

You scream, a searing pain felt down below. 

Tyler peeks and sees a head full of hair, his eyes widen, “you definitely can’t wait. baby is coming now. push baby-” 

It only took one push before Tyler caught the baby, laying her on your chest and drying her off with a towel. “it’s a girl!”

Emotions are running high. Tears are being shed. You’d just given birth, Tyler delivering your daughter. Your heart drops; she’s quiet on your chest, “Why isn’t she crying?”

“Come on baby girl-” He finally stimulates her enough and she lets out a loud cry. It triggers more tears from both you and Tyler. A sigh of relief. 

Tyler’s kissing you through the tears, “You did so great baby.” A proud smile on his lips as he stares at his two girls. He cups your face in his hands, “That was fucking amazing.” 

~

The EMS showed up not long after, checking over you and the baby. Both healthy. They get you on the stretcher, your baby girl wrapped in a blanket in your arms. As the emotions of your baby being earth side, the reality hits you. You gasp, “Tyler.” You cover your mouth in shock. 

“Hmm?” He hums, looking up from your daughter. 

“I just gave birth to our daughter in your truck on the side of the interstate.”  

He chuckles, “Yeah you did. That was more bad ass than getting caught in the middle of a tornado.” 

~ 

Don’t know how I feel about this one. I had a whole vision but writing it out proved to be difficult. 

Comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

[candy-ac3]

The reader who has been abstracted but somehow recovered from it and everyone's reaction to the reader returning from it.

tadc crew x recovered abstracted reader

This really peaked my interst so I knew I just had to write it!

Pain, fear, and anger were all you could feel when you were abstracted, in your newly twisted and corrupted mind the only two things you were able to do seem to be attacking and running

You were chasing your “prey” down the hall and into the main room when another sharp pain went through your body as you let out a whine and fell to the ground

You let out more small whines as your body once again changed this time though it was your original form

Caine

His reaction when you first transformed back was pretty calm claiming it was “all part of my plan” though in truth he was the most confused

After a bit he came to the conclusion that you were able to transform back by something specific in the code of your body that others didn’t have

So expect him popping up randomly to try and take samples, which happens at least once per day

After he got what he thought could be used to turn the other abstracted back to normal he tried to use it… it didn’t work for long and he had a large mess to clean afterwards

After that he went back to normal though would still sometimes try to take samples, became a fun pastime for him

Kinger

You thought he was on edge before? Well now he’s even more on edge

At first he tries to avoid you, he never seen anyone returned back from being abstracted how was he supposed to know you wouldn’t transform back

It took a few months for him to few comfortable standing next to you, let alone going on adventures with you

If you two were dating before then expect the complete opposite

After losing Queenie when she abstracted he didn’t know what to do, even more so when you returned back to normal

Very clingy not wanting to risk losing his lover again

Pomni

She didn’t know what to think at first, you had been a huge help and comforted her when she first came here

She also thought you were by far the most sane, she was proven wrong

It just so happened that she was one of the few going to check in on you when they had found your abstracted self, not very good luck for her

You were the first person she actually knew who had gotten abstracted before she could run away without a thought of who it was before, but she knew you, this was someone she cared about

When you returned to normal she didn’t know what to do then, she was also hesitant about being around you not out of fear though but because she just couldn’t believe it was true

She was very quick to warm up again though do expect her to ask if you're okay a lot 

If you two were dating before then she blames herself for you abstracting even if it wasn’t the case

As well with asking you if your okay expect her to give you small gifts 

Gangle

One of the others who had found you, had to be pulled away or else she would have probably stayed standing there crying

She couldn’t do much as many thoughts were going through her mind all coming out in sobs

When you returned to normal she was still sobbing but was also the first one to make sure you were okay

She decides to put up the whole you being abstracted to her imagination, it would be more believable than you abstracting and then just returning back to normal

I picture that even if you two didn’t have the best relationship she would have nightmares about your abstraction

If you two were dating then be prepared for her not sleeping at all since she doesn't need it and everytime she does she get nightmares she takes it out of her schedule 

expect a lot more cuddles then before, she wants to be as close together as she can with you afterwards

Jax

He was the last of the group who found you, he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t

As he ran away pulling Gangle with him he tried to tell himself that this wasn’t real, the abstracted being wasn’t you

When you returned to normal he was hesitant to tease you or prank you

He still did of course but it was a lot less often then before and with all the others

Will often go into your room if you’re in there or not, mainly to make sure you’re okay

If you two were in a relationship he becomes a lot more protective of you

Like a lot more protective, you be lucky if he wasn’t right by your side

Ragatha

When she had heard you were abstracted she couldn’t believe it, she ran to where you were seeing you right before you went back to normal

She froze her mind racing as she felt numb, until Gangle brought her back when asking you if your okay

When she get back to her senses she ran up and hugged you and kept asking if you’re okay

Many checkups to make sure you’re okay

Feels awful for not noticing the signs feeling like she should have seen them

If you two are in a relationship then she blames herself for your abstraction 

Many small gifts

Zooble 

Was the only one who didn’t see you when you were abstracted 

Was panicked and confused when they heard what had happened 

She didn’t really change much other then being nicer to you

Inside though he was cursing himself out for not doing more

If the two of you were in a relationship then expect them to care a lot more 

Tbh Zooble was the hardest one for me so I have the least for them, but yeah sorry this took a bit didn't have a lot of time to write today

[quietplantlys]

Can you please make a story with Maleficent, Hades, Morgie, Uliana, and Hook. The reader is Ella's sister and Bridget's best friend. She is protective over Bridget and Ella, so she defends them from the VKs. But all she does is make them interested in her. (The Vks are all already in a relationship.) Thank you! This request was just a random thought I had.

Intersting - POLY VKs

Pairings: James Hook x Hades x Maleficent x Uliana x Morgie le fay x fem! Reader

Genre: Fluffy, Flirty enemies-to-lovers.

Warnings: Bullying, Established Poly Relationship between the VKs, Reader is Ella's sister.

Note: Thank you for requesting I love writing about poly relationships! and this is a little rushed i wanted to get this out because its been sitting in my drafts 💗

Once you, Bridget, and Ella exit class you go to the courtyard after the last class of the day. Just to spend time studying for the upcoming test. Once you reached the courtyard, no one was there yet, so you headed to the first open table Bridget saw.

After a little while of peacefulness, more people started to come to the courtyard and start talking. So Ella decided it was enough studying and started talking to you and Bridget.

It was fun. Laughter could be heard from across the courtyard. The chattering was also very loud. Everything was good, and everyone was happy.

Well, until the VKs came along. The VKs approached the courtyard, and people grew silent and more silent. Though you and Bridget didn't seem to notice, you both were still laughing at what Ella said. Ella seemed to notice them coming since she saw them come in. Though Bridget and your back were turned to them.

Ella hit both of your arms to make you both stop laughing. You both quieted down a little confused about why Ella was hitting both of your arms.

Once you saw who was walking up. You began frustrated that your peacefulness was interrupted. They reached your table, and Uliana began smirking. "Hi Uilana, do you need anything?" Bridget said, smiling as she did to everyone, no matter how mean or cruel.

"Hi Bridget, peasant, and peasant sister," Uilana said mockingly sweetly. "Can you be quiet shrimpy?" you said loudly once you saw the saddest look on Bridget's face. Once you said that you swore you heard snickers from Morgie.

Uilana whipped her head toward you and glared for a second, then looked up and down. and Ella swore that she saw Hades and Maleficent do the same thing. "Now who do you think you're talking to, darling?" Hook said coming from behind Uliana, coming closer to you while Hades, Maleficent, Morgie, and Uilana also came closer. You backed up while Bridget and Ella did the same from behind you.

As you kept backing up, then you saw Maleficent licking her lips while Hades was staring into your soul. And Morgie is still looking as excited as ever.

Ella grabbed your hand and Bridget's hand and booked it, dragging you as she ran. You did not expect to be dragged, and you were shocked. Bridget ran aside from Ella, her hand not in Ella's anymore. They ran into the building.

You swore that they were running after you, but when you finally stopped, you looked behind you and didn't see anyone. "Geez, Ella, give a warning next time you drag someone." You said rubbing your wrist.

"Sorry, but I didn't like how they looked at you. So I wanted to get out of there." Ella said while quickly making sure they didn't follow. "What do you mean by the way they looked at me?" You asked

"They were eyeing you; I saw it." Ella said Bridget looked between a confused you and Ella and said, "Let's go to my dorm the plan cupcakes!" She wanted to spend time before you both had to leave.

"Okay," you both said, wanting to spend more time there than home.

As the VKs were hanging in the black lagoon, most of them couldn't get the thought of a certain peasant girl out of their heads.

Maleficent and Hades look at each other, thinking the same thing about the girl. Morgie had always seen her; they had a lot of classes together, and he had a little secret crush on her from the beginning.

Uliana was getting frustrated with the thoughts of the girl. Hook was daydreaming. Uliana groaned at her thoughts once again, and Maleficent looked at her annoyed. "Can you stop groaning? It's interrupting my thinking." Uliana glared at the black-haired girl.

"Whatcha thinking about Luv? Is it the little peasant girl?" Hook said, teasing, knowing they were all thinking about her. Maleficent sharply glared at Hook while he was just smiling smugly.

Morgies head picked up on the method of her. Uliana saw this, and she looked over at Hook and Maleficent, and an idea popped up in her head. She wasn't sure at first, but she saw Hades also looking up at the mention of her. Then she knew what everyone thought of the girl.

"You all are interested in her as well, correct?" Uliana said loud and clear, and everyone looked at her. All looking at each other to see their reaction. And they all nodded their heads. and Uliana smirked, "Well, I think I have an idea."

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter IV

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Spoiler-Free Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. Both have taken vows that make sure their paths may never cross. Until they do.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

we are back! i really love where this is going, i hope you guys do too! feedback is very welcome as always (just don't be mean, i cry easily in case you can't tell from my writing). i have been to (the ruins) of the temple and the house of the vestals and have learned a lot about them so i hope i can strike the balance between making the fic intersting and adding some historic context, please let me know if this is working! also if you read this the day i post (december 3rd) happy bona dea hehe ♡

Mola Salsa – Ointment used during religious sacrifices Vale – Goodbye Salve – Hello Sacrosant – Untouchable (by law)

Chapter IV

“Have they assigned you for Bona Dea yet?” Severa is walking beside you, carrying a jug filled with fresh water from the sacred spring. Her step is light, even after the many hours she has spent at the temple today. The upcoming festival has been the talk of all of Rome, as it frequently is during the season where the air becomes colder and the occasional summer breeze turns into full-on storms. On the third of the last month, women in Rome celebrate the night of Bona Dea, the goddess that symbolizes chastity and fertility. A rare occasion where attendance is forbidden to men rather than women.

You nod softly in response to her question, turning the last corner before you reach the round temple of Vesta. “Yes. I am to help prepare the mola salsa. And I have been allowed to aid in carrying–” You pause, recalling that you are still in public. “Carrying the items to the place.”

Severa gives a nod, understanding the almost cryptic words. No one outside the circle, especially no man, is allowed to know which rituals you and the other priestesses undertake during the December night. At the mention of the assigned tasks, she falls into a one-sided but comfortable conversation, telling you her plans of preparation, though always being careful not to get too detailed. When you reach the steps that lead up toward the temple, she hands you the jug of water and bids you goodbye before heading the other direction. With her shift ended, she may retire to her quarters or spend her time however she likes. For you, the day has just begun–despite the sun already being halfway across the sky.

The smell of smoke and herbs greets you as you slip into the building, the only temple in the entire empire that holds no statue of its god or goddess. The flame is the only representation Vesta requires.

You start by collecting the rags you keep in a small cupboard off to the side of the large room, soaking them with the sacred water before kneeling down to begin cleansing the floor. Purity is more important for Vesta than anything, meaning that every day, the temple is cleaned, usually towards the evening when there aren't as many citizens coming to pray.

You work in silence, ignoring the way the cold stone hurts under your knees. It is a shift that requires much physical labor, but you are content to have the room to yourself today, the only company the shadows dancing on the stone walls beside you. You watch as they change, creating pictures and silhouettes that are gone before you can quite figure out what they resemble.

Your drifting thoughts are interrupted by the gentle thud of the oak door, followed by a small gust of air blowing through the room. You look up from where you are kneeling beside the flame, expecting one of the women that frequently come to pray with you. Instead, you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

Acacius looks a little lost, his broad frame dressed in his shiny golden armour, one that does not quite fit the space. He gives no indication of recognizing you, instead heading straight for one of the benches set out for the citizens. With an almost quiet grunt, he lowers himself into a sitting position and bows his head, his lips moving without producing any sound. He is praying.

You're not sure why you are so surprised. Maybe because you cannot recall ever seeing a General in the temple of Vesta or because his comments a few weeks ago did not make him sound like someone who prays much.

I prefer to put my trust in people.

You don't quite realize how openly you are staring at him until he raises his head just enough to glance your way. You bow your head so fast that you feel your muscles protest, the noises of the cackling fire joined by the one of you hurriedly wiping the floor.

You do not allow yourself another second of looking at him. Not a single one. Even when you stand and return the rag and jug to their respective places. Even when you gather a few pieces of wood in your arms and carefully add them to the flame.

It is not until you are standing with your back to the hearth, sorting some of the smaller twigs, that you hear him move. His voice is low when he speaks, like he is trying not to disturb the place around you and what it holds inside its walls. “Am I disturbing you?”

You are almost tempted to keep your back to him and give your response to the firewood below rather than him. But even the high status of a Vestal Virgin will not save you from punishment for disrespecting the General of the Roman army.

“No, of course not,” you respond politely as you turn around. “But I am afraid I do not have your will here. If you'd like to make further adjustments, I can locate it tomorrow and–”

“I did not come for the will,” Acacius says quietly, his brown eyes flying over your face. Once again, you feel like he can read you, like there is an inscription carved into your features the way it is below statues or over doors. Names, places, entire stories told in stone. It’s like yours is spelled out in a language only he can understand.

You pause, a moment of near silence passing between you. You are close enough to see the shadows dancing on his face now, the flame reflecting in his eyes.

“Then what did you come for, my General?” Addressing him sends a shiver through you again, the same way it did the last time you said goodbye. Calling him yours when he is so far from it.

“To pray.” A tiny smirk appears on his face and he looks almost … satisfied with himself. “It is what one does in a temple, is it not?”

You feel your cheeks heat slightly, despite the fact that you try and will them not to. “It is.” The next sentence tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “You took my advice then.”

Acacius raises a brow and you involuntarily hold your breath, awaiting what you expect to be a rather unfavorable reaction–when he laughs. Filling the temple that holds the most important hearth of the roman empire with a soft and gentle laugh. It feels wrong. It feels shameful and unfitting and yet, you feel like something stir inside of you at the sound. Slowly, his laugh dies down until you are left with a mere, gentle smile on his face as he looks down at you. “You are not as timid as you seem, are you now?”

Your blush deepens at that but a shy smile creeps onto your face nevertheless. “I was just–observing.”

“Yes. And do you do that often?” At your confused face, he adds: “Do you observe people often?”

“I did not say I observed people,” you half-whisper, suddenly realizing where this conversation is heading.

Does he know?

You have never considered that the conveniently short distance between your homes works both ways. Mainly because you can't imagine a man as important as Acacius interested in what the Vestals do. Maybe because you also can't imagine him as a man who simply observes–no doubt he finds what he longs for and demands for it. He is well known for his conquering of the southern areas.

“It is an imposing atrium,” he mutters quietly, his eyes carefully tracing your face. Waiting for a reaction. He’s about to speak again when you feel it.

The movement in your chest that felt comfortable until a moment ago, turns to ice. A shiver runs over your body and you step back so violently that your back hits the wooden cupboard and the jug that Severa had carried earlier, begins to sway. You feel Acacius brush past you, attempting to catch it but he is too late. His empty hand closes around air as the jug hits the floor and bursts into small pieces.

For a moment, you stay exactly where you are, your heart thumping as you fight against the cold dread that still fills your body. Acacius shifts beside you and you can feel his brown eyes on you. “I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you. Let me help–”

But you do not let him finish the offer. Instead, you whip around and lean down, beginning to gather the shards off the floor. “It is late,” you press out without looking up at him.

Now it’s the Generals turn to look confused. He pauses, blinking a few times. Before he can ask the question already forming in his throat, you motion toward the oak doors. “The sun will go down soon. Men are not allowed in the temple at night.” 

It takes a few moments before Acacius nods, sending you a polite smile that feels very different from the one that decorated his face mere moments ago. “Of course. I do not wish to keep you.”

He turns swiftly, his uniform moving gracefully around him as he crosses the small room and slips out of the temple. The door falls shut with a thud, signifying once more how very alone you are.

You try to hold back tears as you fold your dress in your lap and begin to collect the shards in it. The salt water so dangerously close to high tide. It blurs your vision enough to grasp one of the larger shards the wrong way, a sharp pain searing through your hand as it cuts into your skin.

He probably only meant to pray.

He has a wife, a home. An army, soldiers and their families. A responsibility like that could make anyone turn to the gods, that much you know. And you scared him off, simply because your body had started acting of its own accord.

Almost as if in a trance, you fully sink to your knees in front of the flame, bowing your head so low that you can feel the coolness of the tiles below. Whispered words fall from your lips. But they are not merely just prayers. They are pleas for forgiveness. You cannot name what it is Vesta shall forgive you. You have done your duty, have not acted in any way that would not honor your vows. And yet, you feel that there is something you should seek forgiveness for.

When you stand again, you tread quietly, almost like you are tiptoeing around something. Balancing your weight on the edge of a bridge, trying desperately to stay still. The wind may not carry you away, no matter how tempting. You do not have wings. You will not fly. The only way off the ledge is the fall. One that you would not survive.

You shudder at the thought as you finish your duties as quietly and quickly as you can. You finish gathering the broken jug, wipe the floor once more and replace the wood. A small sigh of relief leaves your throat when you finally hear the door being opened again–and the eldest of the Vestals steps inside. She surveys the room, pausing as she spots the cupboard. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you answer quickly. “The water jug broke, I was carrying it. My apologies.” You bow your head, sending another silent prayer to Vesta to forgive you the lie. “I will arrange for a new one.”

She looks at you for a moment before nodding her head. “Very well. You may head back to the house. Walk by the potter and give word that we are in need of a new jug. I will stay until morning and have one of the girls pick it up in a few days time.”

“Of course. Vale.” Leaving a small bow and more whispered apologies at her feet, you step out of the temple, glad to put distance between you and the hearth.

It is by no means a far walk to the house of the potter that you task with everything the Vestals need. And yet, you'd much prefer to tread it while it is light. The city changes during the night, even in these safer parts of town. The streets are filled with those who wander the night and despite the fact that your palla demands immediate respect from those that cross your way, it is not a comfortable journey.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a few soldiers that seem to tail you and exhale a small breath, thanking the gods for sending men to protect you. You lose sight of them when you slip into the small alley that opens to the workshop of the potter. But the light inside is extinguished.

“Salve?” You give the door a gentle knock, waiting for a reaction from inside. But none comes.

With a resigned shrug, you turn to make your way back to the main road. It isn't until you have taken a few steps that you look up–and find your way blocked. The three soldiers have their eyes trained on you, their bodies wide enough that they cut off any chance of escape.

You feel your heart beginning to pound again but you force yourself to stay calm, giving a polite nod. They are soldiers. They are here to protect you. Then, the one in the middle opens his mouth.

“What business does a priestess have to be out at night all by herself?” He asks, cocking his head as his gaze shamelessly wanders over your body. The soldier to his right laughs in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Even standing feet away, you can smell the strong aroma of wine on his breath. There has not been any battle. Nothing has been won.

There is no reason for soldiers to celebrate.

“Why do they always pick pretty girls for Vesta?” The one with the foul breath complains. “True shame no one can touch them.” The other one laughs at the comment, taking a step toward you. You feel your back hit the wall. “Oh, you can touch them. You just have to demand for them to keep their mouth shut about it. I would really like to–”

You are spared the details of what this drunk man would like to do to you. Because in that moment, a voice booms out behind the soldiers, echoing slightly in the small alley.

“Soldiers. Step back.”

They whirl around and you think you see one of them ready himself to fight–that is, until the man the voice belongs to steps into the light. They may not respect a priestess. But they will respect Rome's General.

Yet, when they don’t move immediately, he barks out: “That is an order!” Their reactions are surprisingly fast for the state they’re in, the one on the right practically crashing into the wall in his hurry to obey.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asks, his voice so much lower and demanding than it was earlier at the temple. Any hint of the gentle, soft man you talked to is gone.

“We were worried for her safety,” one of the soldiers blurts out. What a way to spin it, you think to yourself. The only threat of your safety tonight has been them.

Acacius's eyes briefly meet yours and his face hardens slightly. He continues moving toward you, forcing the man next to you to step away hurriedly. “Move. And get back to your barracks, straight away.” They are halfway across the alley when he yells after them. “If I catch you bothering her again, I will make the battlefield seem merciful!”

Your knees quiver as you watch the soldiers turn the corner and a choked sound leaves your throat as you stumble. Being sacrosanct does not save you from being a woman. Nothing does.

“Hey, careful now.”

Acacius is by your side in an instant, his voice back to the gentle one you have gotten so used to. He bows down slightly and, without thinking and at seeing you sway, he gently places his arm around your waist, steadying you.

You do not move away this time. Heat radiates from his bare arms through the linen of your dress, igniting your skin below in a way that makes you feel like you are burning. But it is not uncomfortable. In fact, you find yourself leaning into the touch slightly as you catch your breath.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks quietly, a hint of anger still present in his voice.

You respond with a small shake of your head while Acacius carefully watches your every move. “No. No, they did not get a chance to.”

“They are damn fools,” he breathes, shaking his head in disbelief, rubbing small circles into your side with his thumb. “To even think about bothering you like that. A priestess doing her duty–” He turns enough to let his gaze wander over the abandoned street around you again. “This is not a way you should be walking alone at night.”

“The jug,” you whisper quietly. “I was to ask the potter to provide a new jug.”

A sigh leaves the General's lips at that, his grip tightening absent-mindedly. “A piece of clay is certainly not worth risking your safety, my lady.”

You bow your head, unsure how to respond. His fingers are still placed on your waist, still drawing invisible shapes into your stola. “I am sorry about–”

“You do not have anything to apologize for.” He mumbles, soft eyes gazing down at you. “If anything, I owe you an apology. Clearly, the gods are more trustworthy than men.”

Except, the gods did not save you. For the second time, you have a feeling that the person answering your silent prayers is not an ethereal being but rather a man made of flesh and bone. You shift slightly at the thought–and feel Acacius tense beside you.

“They did hurt you,” he whispers, not once hesitating as he lets go of your waist to kneel down and reache for your hand, his gaze focused on the red line that runs across your palm. “Let me see, please.”

“Oh–” You hold your hand up for him but you shake your head. “It was not them. I cut myself on one of the shards earlier, in the temple.” But his focus rests entirely on your hand. You feel a blush creep up your neck as he turns your palm slightly, running his index finger over the freshly scabbed line.

“You should have wrapped it. It may get infected,” he adds quietly and before you can so much as protest, he has reached down and ripped a shred of fabric from his undercloth. His calloused hands are careful and gentle as he begins to wrap it around your palm, tightening it slightly. “Does this hurt?”

You feel like your entire body is vibrating under his touch. His skin on yours, no matter how little, no matter how briefly. It has a fire burning in your chest, threatening to spill out from between your ribs or travel through your throat. The smoke of it blocks your airways and your attempt to speak fails. Instead, you just shake your head and watch as Acacius, at your signal, continues.

“There. Much better.” Your hand is still resting in his palms and he bows down slightly, as if to kiss your fingers. But just before he does, he stiffens slightly and quickly pulls back.

One does not kiss a Vestal's hand. One does not even touch a Vestal. And yet, you can so clearly feel the fire burn on every inch of your skin where his body has met yours.

Acacius clears his throat and nods toward the main road. “I will escort you home. I may not offer the protection of the gods but I can offer that of my sword.”

“Thank you, General Acacius,” you whisper, bringing your freshly bandaged hand back down. You walk beside him as you slowly make your way through the night air, avoiding the busy roads slightly more than you have on the way here. He knows his way around.

You have already reached the Forum when you finally speak, watching as the smoke from the temple rises to your left as you turn onto Via Nova. “I would like to apologize, for before.”

Acacius cocks a brow. “Before?”

“Before. When I sent you out of the temple. You are welcome to come and pray of course. I was–” You shake your head softly. “I was merely surprised.”

You watch as his face twists into a small smile at that and he nods. However, you both stay silent as he leads you toward the house of the Vestals. When you reach the columns that line the front of it, he stills, leaning forward in a hint of a bow. “Thank you for allowing me to see you back safely.”

“I have to thank you.” You respond quietly, turning to face him. You feel like you want to add something else but the words get stuck in your throat. His hand hovers again, the same way it did the time he welcomed you at his home. Always careful to keep a small, appropriate distance between the two of you. What happened in a dark, secluded alley suddenly seems miles and miles away.

“Good night, my lady.”

With that, Acacius turns and continues up the road.

“Good night, my General,” you whisper only for the cicadas to hear.

notes: thank you for reading. feedback, reblog and comments all very, very welcome ♡

[skeltnwrites]

S'mores - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie takes you camping

Word Count: 3.6k

TW: bad driving, maybe a bit of angst

A/N: This might have something to do with that box of money from my last fic (kudos to those who guessed correctly), also writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet so good luck if you thought the last one was fluffy

Silver-clad fingers tap against the steering wheel, more in tune with the van’s blinker than the Ace of Spades cassette blaring through the speakers. Eddie glances over his shoulder before veering into the next lane, throwing up an apology wave to the sedan he just cut off. You peek up from the map, sights darting to your side mirror, then to your boyfriend. He’s inches from scratching the sticker-loaded bumper ahead of you, gassing and breaking repeatedly. 

You’re well aware that Eddie’s never been a good driver. Frequently snagging curbs and pushing speed limits, once having picked a note from the windshield about his poor parking job. It’s a miracle that he’s only been in a couple of fender benders over the years. You once nabbed his driver’s license, swatting away his hands so you could see the grainy photo of teenage Eddie. But every now and then when his foot slams against the pedal and you lurch forward in your seat only to be caught by the belt, you wonder whether it was a fake. Today, somehow, he’s in even more of a rush than usual. 

The tape ends, leaving you in silence apart from a distant honk and the familiar chug of the air conditioning. “You know the campsite isn’t going anywhere right?” 

He hums dismissively, hands gripping ten and two as his gaze darts between the road and his rearview. 

You throw a palm over his thigh, squeezing. “Eddie.” 

He’s locked in, swerving in failed attempts to get back over. “One second, sweetheart,” he manages when you retract your hand. There’s a risky opening and he takes it, the car behind instantly laying on the horn. Your eye twitches. 

He rolls to a stop, with nowhere to go between the bumper-to-bumper traffic as far ahead as you can see and highway patrol parked in the median. “Seems everyone and their mother had the same idea, huh?” He turns to you with a dopey half-smile. 

“What’s the rush?” 

He shrugs, picking at the rip in his jeans, “Just wanna get set up before dark.” 

“We’ve got flashlights.” 

“No– well, yeah. It’s not that. I just don’t wanna have to worry about it later.” 

You tilt your head, “No biggie if we set up late.” 

He nods, knowing you’re right. 

When you’d got home from work Eddie didn’t give you a chance to kiss him hello before he urged you into the bedroom to pack for a surprise weekend camping trip. Rented camping gear and a bag of gas station snacks were thrown into the back of the van and within the hour, you were on the road. As he pulled onto the interstate he’d abruptly toggled off the radio as the host discussed details of the pending meteor shower, the part of the trip he intended to keep secret. You pretended not to hear when he asked, despite having read about it in the paper the afternoon before. 

The sun sinks out of sight as you reach the exit ramp. A light pitter-patter against the windshield has you preemptively cranking up your window. Your feet cross each other over the dash as you trace the approaching circle on your map with your finger. 

“You said Bronson?” Eddie asks. 

“Mhmm. Left on Bronson Road.”

“Ya sure? Cause it’s definitely blocked off.” 

You whip your head up at the construction signs and equipment lining the street, or lack of street rather. 

“Damn it.” You rub the bridge between your nose. 

“I could just try to drive through it? I mean those big trucks can–” 

“Eddie,” you raise an eyebrow. 

“What!” He slaps the dashboard, “This girl's gotten us through a lot of adventures, right? One more won’t kill her.” He’s dead serious; Zero problem with driving past a sign that says ‘Closed’ and ‘Do Not Enter’.

“I’ll find another route, keep driving.” 

“Come on,” he groans, sagging into his seat.

“Do you want to pop a tire and be out here all night waiting for help?” 

He scoffs like you’ve insulted him, “I know how to change a tire.”

“Do you have a spare?” 

His mouth opens in rebuttal and quickly shuts.

“Drive,” you roll your eyes, hiding your smirk behind the map. 

You try another road that connects, or so you thought until you pull up to a dead-end sign. It’s pouring now and pitch black out, road signs are hard to see, street lights are sparse, and you’re both cranky from being trapped in a car with each other. It’s your fourth attempt at rerouting when Eddie declares you are officially lost. 

He holds his hands up in defense, “Look I don’t wanna say it but–” 

You send him a glare before he can finish. “We’re not lost.” 

“Look, it’s okay if–”

“But we aren’t. Look, right here,” you flick a pen against the paper. “I’m telling you this is the one.” 

He falters at your serious stare, biting a nail, and sighs, “Okay. Fifth times the charm, right?”  

“That’s what they say,” you smile. 

To both of your surprise, the fifth time is the charm and you’re able to get back on track with your navigation skills. You’re on a long stretch of dirt road, miles since the last light or building or car for that matter. Still, you swear you know where you are and Eddie believes you. He drives shockingly slow, bobbing his leg and squinting at the windshield. The wipers squeal against the glass, working overtime.  

You push your palm against his knee. He continues to drum against the floor mat. 

He feels your gaze and anticipatorily answers, “Have to piss.”

“You did on the side of the road like half an hour ago, dude.” 

“Think it’s the rain. Rainiest fucking day in Indiana history. Thought it would’ve stopped by now.” His voice trails off in this dejected sort of way that you rarely hear from Eddie. 

You’re lips form a tight line and you bring your fingers up to his nape to scratch under a thick mop of curls. “It’ll let up bub.” 

He nods, eyes trained ahead. 

You literally scream when the headlights glare against a campsite sign. Eddie smiles so hard you’d bet his cheeks hurt. An unimpressed teenager mans the check-in booth which you pull up to. She slides the window open to abruptly tell you they closed ten minutes ago, not allowing you to reply before it slams shut. Eddie raps on the glass, pointing to a crisp twenty-dollar bill which she accepts, offering a parking pass and spot number in return. 

The van is parked and you jump out, delighted that the rain has let up some. It’s sprinkling and clouds block any hint of stars, but you couldn’t care less. Eddie grabs the tent first, recruiting you to help stomp the stakes into the ground. He fumbles with the flaps, scratching his neck trying to understand where the door is supposed to be when the rain picks up again. You scramble to finish setting up, throwing bags, food, a radio, and whatever else easily accessible into the tent. It isn’t until you’re both inside, soaked to the bone, that you realize how cramped it is. 

“This is definitely not a two-person tent,” Eddie chuckles, hunched over like a wilting flower, knees digging into yours. His curls are slick and shiny in the lantern glow. 

You flick a mosquito off his arm and grin, “It’s cozy for sure.” 

He flops on the twin-sized inflatable mattress you’d previously used as an umbrella. You wriggle up beside him, clothes drenched and clinging to every curve. 

“I mean think about it, this size would go for, what, a grand in New York? They’d call it an urban studio apartment with bright ceilings and textured floors,” you say magically.

His laugh bleeds into a dramatic groan as he slings an arm over his face. You leave a wake of kisses from his elbow over to his wrist until he’s peeling it away to hold you. Your cheeks are warm against his palms as he says, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to see the meteor shower.”

You lift an eyebrow, “What meteor shower?”

He covers your face, snorting, “Shut up, you knew. You aren’t a good liar.” 

You crack a smile, peeling his fingers away one by one until you can see him again. 

“But really,” he says, seriously. “We are soaked and cold and we didn’t even get to make s'mores!” 

You drop your head to his chest, “You’re right. I don’t think I’ll survive without s'mores.”

His hand finds your crown, his lips too. “I’m serious!” 

“So am I,” you mumble into his tee. 

You are content to lay there in each other’s warmth for a while despite the chills worming up your spine but Eddie breaks the stillness, “Come on. Get up. We need to change.” 

You lift your head, “Wait!” You poke at his chest, “I need to tell you something.” 

He hums, brown eyes heavy as they search yours. 

“I love you,” you say earnestly. 

“Sap!” He pushes you off, crawling over to his JanSport to fish for dry clothes. He chucks you a pair and you waste no time stripping off the sticky fabric. Before long, the lantern is off and you're wrapped in the single dry blanket, shuffling back into him for more warmth. He pecks your shoulder and mutters, “I love you too,” before you drift off. 

You aren’t sure what time it is when you wake but Eddie is breathing hot air onto your neck, curls itching you in a way that makes you pull away. His arm slinks under the covers as you sit up. No light leaks through the tent so it must not be time to get up, you decide. You feel far from sleep, however. It’s cold and somehow sticky. The pant leg pinched up your calf gets tugged down, only to realize the fabric is damp. 

Eddie must feel you shuffling because he starts mumbling and groping around your pillow. His hand claws at your sleeve in an attempt to suck you back in. He whines sleepily when you don’t budge. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, sliding a hand up the tent’s coarse walls. 

“What,” his voice catches, soft against his pillow and hoarse with sleep. 

“I think,” you swipe at the floor until your fingertips graze a freezing puddle. “There’s a hole in the tent or something.” You blink rapidly trying to see the damage. 

He cranes up with a hum, elbowing you as he scratches his face. 

“The floor is wet.” 

“Where?” 

You wrap your fingers around his in the darkness, guiding them past your body to skim the floor.

“Shit,” he sighs. 

You prod around, shoving away non-lantern-shaped or textured items. 

“Here,” Eddie clicks his lighter. It sparks a few times before lighting, casting skewed shadows against the walls. He yawns, gesturing at the lantern with closed lids. You click it on, dangling it over the gap beside the mattress—golden light glimmers against the water. Eddie climbs over you to view it, hair swaying as he shifts. Your heavy eyes travel up in tandem to catch the steady drip from the roof. A small, fraying line splits the fabric. He pushes a thumb against the next forming bead. His tongue slips back in his mouth to clear his throat, “I’ve got duct tape in the van but I don’t think it’ll stick to this.” He scratches the canvas, “‘specially not in the rain.” 

You nod, observing as his brain churns. His gaze flicks to his wrist watch and then he’s folding over his legs in a cat-like stretch. Hunched over, he says, “It’s too early for this. Let’s just go sleep in the van.” He hums as if to ask, “How does that sound?”

You trace the curve of his spine as he stretches, “‘kay.” Neither of you move. Rain pelts the tarp rhythmically. 

“Come on,” he sighs deeply before pushing up to unzip the tent. Stray raindrops blow inside, a couple catching your hand where it bunches clothes together. You sweep whatever is near into his bag, passing Eddie his sneakers. You don’t bother lacing yours. 

He throws his denim jacket over your shoulders before you race out, shoes squelching against the mud. Your heel dips into a puddle as you plant your hands against the slick sliding door. Eddie jams the keys in the lock with rehearsed practice, climbing in and pressing buttons until the rest of the locks click. You rapidly pull the metal handle, nearly eating shit as your foot slides. 

Eddie jumps back out. “Piece of shit door,” he grumbles and bumps your hip, pushing with you until the door lurches open. When he clears it, you slam it behind him. The backpack and his jacket are discarded onto the floor before you climb over the center console after him. He starts the car, cranking the temperature knobs until warm air blows from the vents. 

As soon as your eyes meet, you crumble into giggles. Any bit of sleepiness left has vanished. His hair is flattened with moisture and his cheeks rosy from the cold. You curl your nail under a black strand stuck to his chin.

“Needed a shower anyway,” Eddie shakes his hair out like a dog, spraying you in the face. 

You yell and shield yourself with your sleeves. 

He licks a stray droplet off his lip then leans over the seats searching. Eddie gets up and squirms between them, kicking the water bottle in the cup holder. You slip your shoes off, pushing them under the seat to avoid tracking any more mud. 

Your palms hover flat against the heat for a while. It’s quiet per Eddie standards so you glance behind your seat. In the dim car light, your boyfriend shuffles through his backpack. He’s chewing on his lip as he tips it over to dump the contents out, mostly clothes. His eyes widen when he finds you staring. 

“Find me something to wear?” You ask. 

He nods after a moment, still watching you like a child with their hand in the cookie jar. You turn back around hesitantly. 

You busy yourself with reading the campsite pamphlet you’d been given at the entrance. But the grinding of the slider door has you whipping your head back around. Eddie’s halfway outside, shouting, “One sec’!” The door shuts abruptly leaving you alone in the van. You climb into the back, cupping your hands against the foggy glass. Your boyfriend has his jacket slung across his back as he crouches into the tent. A couple of minutes pass and he’s running back. You pull the door open for him and he thanks you as he hops in. 

“What?” You question. 

He flashes a tight-lipped smile, “Forgot this.” He holds out his lighter in one hand, placing his jacket on the floor neatly with the other. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’ve got like three in the glovebox, Eddie.” 

“This one’s my favorite.” The lighter is lime green, adorned with a fading smiley face drawn in sharpie, thanks to you. He scratches his neck sheepishly. You don’t know whether to believe him since he’s never shown a preference for lighters before now but he seems genuinely embarrassed that you’ve found out. 

“Oh,” you settle with, choosing to let it go, lest you embarrass the poor boy further.  

You dissolve into separate chores in the back of the van. He smears the puddle by the door with his already wet t-shirt and you hunt for another pair of his pajama pants for yourself. Dry clothes are dwindling, having soaked two pairs each already. But you manage to find new bottoms and a fresh shirt for Eddie. He’s slipping it over his head, crisscrossed on the floor in only his boxers. You circle the small space, plucking any soggy clothes off the floor to hang dry on a camping chair that had been left in the van. As you scoop up Eddie’s jacket something rolls out onto the floor. You kneel to pick up a small, black box with your free hand. You scratch curiously at the velvet, wavering to hand it off to Eddie. Gears turn in your head as you glance up at your boyfriend who stares at you from the floor a few feet away. Your expression mirrors his, mouth agape, eyebrows raised. 

“I—”

“Is this?“ You say simultaneously. 

Your limbs are locked in place, mouth dry as you try to string together a coherent question. Suddenly the heat pouring from the vents is too hot. You might as well catch fire with how your cheeks burn. 

He deflates in front of you, shoulders sagging and chin drooping in one motion. 

You shove the box into his hands as if that will fix it. 

He furrows his brows and looks away, “Shit.” 

You are about to offer to pretend you haven’t seen it when he continues.

“This whole trip has really gone to shit, huh?” He shakes his head, throwing a hand out defeatedly, “I mean– I had this whole perfect plan and I was trying so hard not to fuck it up. The shower and the fucking rain. Hell, Steve, even Wayne warned me to do it right and I– I just.” He scoffs, head tipping back against the door. “I almost lost it.” 

It’s then that it dawns on you that Eddie Munson, your boyfriend, intended to propose to you on this trip. That he plans to marry and spend the rest of his life with you. 

“–want you to think that I don’t care enough—“

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“–and I wanted you to know how seri—“

“Eddie!” Your on the dirty floor of his van, knees digging into his as you push the box further into his chest, “Fucking ask me already.”

He melts under your stare, breath shuddering hesitantly despite your growing smile. “I– Will you—“

You're already nodding at the first word. “Yes, you idiot.” You’ve lunged into his chest, smiling uncontrollably into his neck. 

He chuckles nervously into your temple, slowly wrapping an arm around you. But he pulls back, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately. 

His eyes dance around your face, lingering on the spot below your ear he likes to kiss. He presses his nose there instead, giggling like a little kid. “I can’t believe you said yes,” he whispers breathily, more to himself than you. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You squeeze him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I dunno, I just thought,” he trails off. 

“Eddie,” you peel him off your skin, waiting until he looks at you. “This is perfect.” You knead your nose and eyes before anything escapes. “I don’t care if it rained or if we didn’t see the meteors or about fucking s’mores for Christ’s sake!” You smack him lightly in the chest, smiling hard. 

His eyes are glassy and he swallows hard. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet,” his voice shakes when he says it.

“There could be a paper ring in there for all I care.” 

He grins, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Should’ve told me that before I bought something.”

You laugh wetly and he brings the box up to your hands to open together. Rings are not something you and Eddie had discussed much if at all and yet somehow he managed to find just what you envisioned. 

The tears finally fall as you say, “It’s gorgeous, Eds.” 

He chases them away with kisses, cupping your cheek to pull you closer. 

When you're momentarily done studying the jewelry you press your lips to his. He’s reluctant to pull away, diving in for a second, then a third, like you’ll change your mind if he lets you go. 

“Here,” his hands are shaking as he plucks the ring from its cushion and cradles your hand. The ring slips on easily, a tad too big, but “Wayne knows someone who can tighten it.”

You nod, grinning wildly at your hand. He’s watching you with a similar wobbly expression when you glance up. You remain a tangled pile of soppy limbs on the metal floor until your back aches. He’s pulling you up and clicking off the lights before crawling up front. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to fall asleep now,” you whisper giddily, cheek pressed to the reclined passenger seat. 

From across you, he says, “I don’t think I can either.” He watches you fondly as you twist the ring around your finger. He’s thinking about how stupid he was to worry so much about what Wayne and Steve fucking Harrington of all people warned him about. That he knows he’s never felt so strongly about someone before and that he’d be crazy to let you slip away. 

Your gasp breaks his stream of consciousness. You’ve sat up, pointing through the windshield. “Look!”

“What?” he’s ducking his head, flipping up the sun visor, and glancing from you to the glass, trying to track your line of sight. Then he finds it, a long arc of light breaking through the clouds. It’s faint, fading in and out of the darkness as it streams from one end of the sky to the other. It passes, and you both observe for more, wide-eyed and stiff like dolls. 

“Look at that,” you blink deliriously, slumping back into the seat. 

“Did you get the universe in on this or something when I wasn’t looking?” He’s baffled, chuckling to himself. 

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you smirk. 

He nods, leaning over to peck the corner of your lip. “Didn’t need one. Knew you were it from day one.” He slinks back into his seat, leaving you a blushing ball of flames.  

[therapyandprozac]

Title: I Can Fix Him (or Highway Handjob)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 900

Warnings: Light Gun Play, Handjob, Blowjob, Teasing, Pet Names, A Cheeky Pussy Slap For Fun, all while he is driving a car (Don’t blow and drive y’all, just read about it ;))

Description: Okay, soooo…when I first heard Taylor Swift’s “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” this fic started writing itself in my head (yes it took me this long, I’m bad at this guys.) A hand job on the highway at consensual gun point. No name for him as usual, but I was thinking of Dean or daddy J. Miller.

————

You’ve been the interstate for hours, you look at the GPS and see not a turn for miles. Looking over you see your man with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. He happily sings along with the radio, while you just watch him from the passenger seat. Cheekbones highlighted stunningly with every smile, the sun shining through his lips as he sings along with the ever shifting radio. His profile is forever painted in your mind, along with that voice and the smell of his cigarettes. Such a shame that that long, thick, and truly beautiful neck remained unmarked and unsullied. As you stared at the bare triangle of flesh between his ear, jaw, and neck.

You imagined the sounds he would make as you sucked a deep, delicious, maroon hickie into his succulent skin. He's rarely not strapped and normally it makes you feel safe but today…it’s having a different kind of effect. This morning you watched him get dressed, laid his holster on the bed and you were able to get a good look at the holster and the colt .45 tucked firmly inside. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you got in the car, well that and other things. You look out the windshield seeing a large sign that says “Waco 50 miles” and you decide to go for it. You lean over the armrest and lick up his stubbled neck to his ear, immediately he blushes completely surprised what you just did. You bite his ear gently and he’s about to speak when you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Just drive.” You whisper against his skin, you feel him smirk under your hand. Unbuttoning and unzipping you pull him out of his jeans, he’s growing harder as you pull him free from its restraint. “Good boy.” You moan against his ear and grip his cock, moving your hand steadily. His eyes roll involuntarily for just a moment, you smile seizing your opportunity.

“Eyes front.” You hiss. Teasing him is so much fun, but when he can’t do anything about it, it is so much better! He growls which you knew was a warning, but you just keep pushing with a smirk. Increasing your speed up and down, you enjoy the little sounds that he can’t force to keep quiet. “That’s right.” You whisper against his ear, eliciting another groan from deep within his chest. You moan in his ear, teasing him is so much fun you think to yourself as his cock jolts in your hands.

“Trust me I can handle my dangerous man.” You whisper into his ear, biting the lobe gingerly. His right hand leaves the wheel and crosses his body to his hip. You suck in a sharp breath knowing exactly what he’s reaching for.

“Are you sure about that, doll?” His cold tone matched the icy gun barrel now tucked firmly beneath your jaw.

“Yes,” you wink, pull the gun to your lips and kiss the tip of the barrel before leaning down to kiss the tip of his well loved cock. Taking his entire length in one go, his hand finds your hair and lets you expertly suck him. Your right hand snakes from your lap, where you’ve been attempting but failing to palm yourself through your jeans, you play with his tender balls rolling them between your fingers.

“Don’t even have to guide you, ahh look at you kitten, deepest throat I’ve ever ha-AH oh babe I’m goi-” before he finishes you go as deep as you can. Pubic hair tickles your nose as you lose yourself on his cock, forgetting you're in a car, on a six lane highway, you go for gold. Humming around him and swallowing around his shaft he cums hard, eyes glued to the road as the most distracting thing in the universe is completely gorging herself on him. Swallowing every drop, you kiss up his sensitive shaft feeling it twitch, well spent in your hand. You place a quick kiss and than a cigarette between his lips and light it up, he chuckles before inhaling a deep hit and fingering his cigarette. The smoke billows from his thick lips as he looks over at you, slowly shaking his head he says nothing but takes another drag.

“That was dangerous, but hot so mind blowingly hot.” Another long hit has you captivated on his mouth and how his lips wrap around the base of the lit cylinder. “Cannot wait to eat you out my sweet girl.” He laughs at the way you squeeze your thighs together, reaching his large hand over to your thigh and sliding you over to the very edge of the passenger seat. His hand reaches and perfectly cups his thick fingers over your cunt, gently shifting his fingers and watching you wriggle under his grasp. “The moment we walk through that door I want these jeans off, understand?” A question brought home by a harsh slap to your covered pussy.

“Yes daddy!” A gasp as you jump in your seat. ‘Oh it is gonna be a fun night.’ You think to yourself as he continues teasing you.

[wishchip106]

What are so good fanfic recs you have???

here’s a big list of fics i have read and recommend

(if i included all of them this post would be a lot bigger 😭)

The Bird’s Opening by druswriting (M)

Erik knew one thing about the story for sure; even if the Capitol created him, he was no one’s property.

Tessellation by nekosmuse (E)

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

Hollow Minds and Dead Souls by helens78 (E)

When Charles and Erik take a portable version of Cerebro out to New Mexico as part of their mutant recruiting trip, they aren't expecting to find out the town's falling victim to an epidemic. But things are far worse than they seem, because this is no ordinary virus. Will Charles and Erik find their way home in time to help save the world... from zombies?

Repeat Offenses by populuxe (M)

“Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

Replay by SlightWeasel (M)

After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.

Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.

There's no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

Special Topics in Mutant Studies by populuxe (T)

The trouble with Charles Xavier isn’t just that he teaches genetics and holds terrible views about mutant rights—it’s also becoming increasingly clear that everyone but Erik seems to love him.

Thou shalt Not Eat Stones by valancysnaith

Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Lucky, Lucky you (i am fortunes fool) by @stinkrat-aleks (T)

Charles buys a houseplant to prove to his therapist that he can take care of something. Single father Erik sells them at the local farmer’s market every Saturday.

Paper Monsters by clocks (E)

Charles meets Erik Lehnsherr, his favorite novelist of all time at a coffee shop, but doesn't know it's him, and Erik just criticizes his own writing in front of his biggest fan.

Hear Me Out by @star-lights-up (T)

Nineteen-year-old Charles Xavier and his friends have been posting their group hijinks on TikTok for two years – though when it started, they never expected to go viral, or to end up making a steady living as content creators. It’s something that comes with a lot of surprises, like when Charles puts a picture of his celebrity crush, the mutants rights activist Erik Lehnsherr on a hear me out cake… and he responds.

in the end, it all comes down to you. (you want it all; you’re all i want) by @mapofyourstars (M)

Steve reaches out to Charles, asking for a partnership between the Avengers and mutants. Given the recent decade of peace between mutants and non-mutants thanks to Erik and the Brotherhood, Charles isn’t quick to accept Steve’s offer. Charles takes Steve’s concerns to Erik, and after involving others pivotal to mutants' safety, Charles and Erik agree to help the Avengers. Throughout this journey, however, Charles and Erik will be forced to make rash decisions that will change their lives' course; acknowledge their past and present, coming to terms with the pain suffered at the hands of the other; and lead others into a galactic battle to save their loved ones and each other.

Incy Wincy Spider by Tawabids (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

Rumor Has It by blueink3 (M)

"Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Favorite Mistake by endingthemes (M)

Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

An Ideal Grace by afrocurl, nekosmuse (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Boden’s mate by kaydeefalls (T)

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

The Plus-One by populuxe (T)

When Erik grudgingly agrees to play Raven's boyfriend at her terrible family's holiday party, he'd thought the biggest challenge would be staying sober enough to make it convincing. But then he meets Raven's extremely hot—and extremely infuriating—stepbrother, and everything starts to get complicated.

Punnett Squares and Metal Hearts by roseghoul (w.i.p but you should still read it) (M)

Charles Xavier taught biology at Westchester High School and has for the past seven years. If you were to ask his sister, Raven, then she’d say it was a waste of his Ph.D., but he was inclined to disagree. Founder of the Students With Disabilities Club, he’s created a bit of a name for himself at the school, nurturing an environment that encourages learning and acceptance.

Erik Lehnsherr has thirty-six years under his belt, yet not a single one has been spent teaching, despite his Industrial Arts degree. Yet he accepted a teaching position, in the United States, of all places. Desperation for a new life would lead many to do rather rash things. After many months and piles of documents and certifications, he’s now a shop teacher at Westchester High School, and his first year is just around the corner.

It’s a week before the first day of school when Erik meets Charles, and he’s put off by the optimistic man, yet curious to learn more about him. Charles, ever the kind soul, is eager to bring a new teacher under his wing, but his reasons are far from selfless, enraptured by the handsome, mysterious man with an even more mysterious history.

Fallen from the Stars by madmalina (M)

Erik’s only purpose in life is to find and kill the man who had his parents executed—Sebastian Shaw, Captain of the Emperor’s fleet. When Erik gets assigned to a job under Shaw’s command—on the spaceship supposed to take the Crown Prince across the galaxy—he’s sure he’s closer to fulfilling his destiny than he has ever been before.

Charles is apprehensively awaiting the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, when he’ll be crowned Emperor, because not only does he have high doubts about his own suitability for the job, he fears the crushing responsibilities it will bring, and ultimately wants nothing more than to live a quiet and peaceful life.

However, the trip across the planets of Charles’ future Empire turns out differently than they both expected, shedding light on intrigues reaching back decades into the past, and forcing both men to put their lives into each other’s hands, even though their differences are seemingly infinite.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 6

chapter 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 7

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after months in the wilderness, you finally arrive at chicago. adapting to this new life has its cons, but also its perks. joel's birthday is around the corner, and you have planned for a couple of things you hope he likes...

a/n: hiya! here's chapter six!! it's packed with a bit of everything, especially drama because why not? 🤷 i want to thank you all ― i just realised that the first 3 chapters have hit over 100 notes each! i'm so damn grateful to all of you, honestly. as much as i'm writing for myself, i'm loving how hooked some of you are with this story 😳 also, i'd like to apologise in advance if i have butchered chicago's layout or its history, i did try my best doing some research. as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. mention of Sarah's death. angst. fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). irresponsible use of contraception (don't do that). consensual somnophilia. dry humping. unprotected piv. masturbation (m and f). creampie. pussy slapping. fisting. squirting. cum play. a bit of assplay. makeup sex. sir kink. “bar” fight. alcohol consumption. blood. stabbing. swear words. mention of past racist events and the precursor to the chicago race riot of 1919. soft!dom!joel. a bit of aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is now 37 (🎉!). no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~6.9k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz

Chicago was definitely not what you had expected at all. Shit had gone down really badly in this place. It took you a week to cross the southwest area, keeping close to Interstate 55 as a reference. The worst you had seen was Chicago Midway International Airport. Airplanes had crashed on the runway, the esplanade was a makeshift cemetery even almost a year after Outbreak Day. Bodies piled on top of each other, fires would break out in the adjacent buildings. The control tower was completely dilapidated. And the grounds were full of clickers.

Tommy, Joel and you made it through the worst neighbourhoods. As you covered more miles, Tommy and Joel realised that this had not been the best idea. But you were already there, so the best option was to move forward. You all had to defend yourselves, and each other. Although the Miller brothers took out many attackers ―humans and infected alike―, you also had your good share of action. You didn’t like it, but you were good at shooting. Your clothes were stained with blood and sweat. You endured, and you survived. That was what mattered.

The whole city was in shambles, divided by two different groups: the government and the rebels. The government held the north side of the Chicago River, from River North Gallery District all the way to Old Town ― basically everything to the east of Interstate 90. The rebels, on the other hand, controlled the south ― all the movable bridges along the whole Wacker Drive, from New Eastside to Chinatown. Anything further south or north, and between Interstates 55 and 90, from Little Village to Naperville, was no man’s land.

You ended up on the rebels’ side randomly. Tommy was not very happy about it, blaming the communists for overpowering the government, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. If you tried to cross any bridge to go northwards, you would be shot at with no warning. From both sides.

It took a while to convince the Rioters ― that was how the rebels called themselves. Two weeks later, on the 20th of August, you were given a place to stay near the Art Institute of Chicago, which was also the operations base. You did try to integrate yourself in this society as you knew it was better to have more friends than foes. The Millers, however, kept to themselves ― Joel more than Tommy, as you had expected. No surprises there.

The flat you were in was in urgent need of repairs but was better than sleeping rough. You and Joel fixed as many things as you both could, while Tommy took cleaning very seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was the place you called home for the last month. The only downside was that it only had two bedrooms, so Joel and you sadly had to share the only double bed available, while Tommy had his own room.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself ― the last four weeks had been pure bliss in a sense. Waking up every day besides Joel had become a delightful habit. He had awakened you many a times either in the middle of the night or in the early morning to give him a hand. Literally. And you had done exactly the same thing when you had needed it. You were sure Tommy was sick and tired of you two, but you didn’t care.

You stretched out, still lying in bed. The morning light had not come through the curtains yet, but it soon would. You rubbed your eyes and then let your arms drop to your sides dramatically. You were not a morning person, but your sleeping schedule was all fucked up. You rolled to your other side in an attempt to get comfortable.

Joel was sleeping on his right side. You had noticed he usually did in the same position. When you had asked him why, he had explained his hearing in his right ear was messed up since his suicide attempt. You wished you could have been faster that day to prevent the gun from going off. Ah, the regrets you both had…

His back was towards you, him facing the door. Despite the repairs you all had done to the flat, it was still not the safest. Every night one of you would make sure all locks were engaged and would bar the front door. A few days ago, someone attempted to break in. Since then, all of you would sleep with a firearm nearby.

Today was Sunday ― 26th of September. Which meant it was Joel’s birthday, as well as the first anniversary of Outbreak Day. The anniversary of Sarah's death would be tomorrow too. You had tried to talk to Joel about today, but he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrating at all, which you completely understood. As much as you wanted to do something, you respected his decision. You had only planned for a couple of low-key things, which you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen asleep only with his briefs on, the bedsheet draping around his legs. You couldn’t see, but you were damn sure he had his arms crossed at his chest, always on guard. Your eyes dwelled on his upper body, two perfect dimples on his lower back. His shoulders were broad and toned, his waist smaller. He was not the most muscular guy you had ever seen, but he was perfect the way he was. His calloused hands had shown you multiple times how good he was for you, despite what he thought of himself.

You couldn’t resist, your mouth dry. Your fingertips traced the curve of his neck, then his left shoulder down to his elbow. Your hand caressed his left hip and slipped down to his front, following his V line. Your fingers touched the elastic of his briefs ― and something else.

You gulped down the knot in your throat, your heart beating harder in your chest, when your fingertips brushed over the damp tip of his cock. Joel’s morning wood was so prominent, his glans had slipped out of his underwear and was showing. You wetted your lips as you stroked him carefully. A deep, almost guttural growl flowed from Joel’s chest.

You got closer to him in bed, your nipples grazing the skin on his back even through your pyjamas. It probably wasn’t the best time ― you knew he was tired, but you wanted him so badly. Liquid fire was pooling in your furrow, knowing his erection was right there for you to play with.

Your internal battle didn’t last long.

You pulled down his briefs to free his warm dick. You didn’t need to look to know his shaft was resting against his happy trail, the head touching his belly button. With no hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing him delicately. Then you slid your hand down his meaty column, holding him firmly, in a very slow but strong pump.

He groaned, still asleep as far as you could tell, as you started pumping him ― more heat and excitement gathering in your pussy. You dunked your fingers in your panties, touching yourself. You were already wet, the mere thought of making him yours was enough. You kissed his left shoulder at the same time he uncrossed his arms ― his left hand over yours, feeling the rhythm you were imparting on him.

He was awake.

Joel didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he was sure it wasn’t this. When he looked down and saw your tiny hand trying to muffle his cock, he closed his eyes with a sigh. That felt damn good. He was knackered after last night’s patrolling shift, but this was exactly what he needed to decompress.

He turned around, his back flat against the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes were pinned on yours, your sweet hand upping the speed. You leaned towards him and invaded his mouth with your devilish tongue. Joel moaned in the middle of the kiss ― his brain completely switched off. He could not think straight when you were handling him like that.

Quickly letting go of his erection and mouth, you got rid of your pyjama shorts and your underwear. Then you doubled down your efforts with the handjob ― his throbbing cock was calling for you. You could see a few drops of precum sliding off his veiny shaft, which you swiftly gathered with your thumb to rub them against his leaking slit. You felt his dick pulsating hard for you ― your cunt palpitating at exactly the same time, anticipating. Your bodies were fully synchronised.

You then climbed on top of him, his balls welcoming the touch from your puffy lips. You rolled your hips against his, looking for that friction you so much loved, and took a deep breath before taking off the top of your pyjamas, throwing it to one side. You bended down, your mouth looking for his, so thirsty.

“Good morning, handsome”, you whispered as a greeting.

“Mhmmm”, was the only thing he managed to hum, sleepy.

You smiled and broke off the contact, straightening your back. His rough hands slid from your knees, across your thighs, to your butt. He clasped your ass cheeks with assertiveness. With no more words than those, you took his steely cock in your hand and lifted your hips. You glided his glans over your damp fold a few times, your cunt beseeching to be stuffed.

You guided his tip to kiss your entrance and descended on his dick slowly, very slowly, the palms of your hands flat against his lower abdomen to steady yourself. You closed your eyes, head tilted backwards, and whined loudly. Each inch was a blessing. Once his cock was entirely inside of you, you peeked back down at him and did a circular motion with your hips. His eyes were so intense you couldn’t look away while you started riding him.

Joel closed his eyes unwillingly when the muscles in his lower belly cramped. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, so forced himself to open them again ― he loved seeing how the pleasure transformed your beautiful features. Your half-lidded eyes, your lips parted, a river of pearly sweat coming down in between your bosom. Your perfectly round breasts bouncing in front of him. He was a lucky bastard.

He liberated your ass, his hands drifting to your bust, holding your tits. While he kneaded that tender flesh and coddled your nipples, you covered his hands with yours. You were still jumping on top of him, albeit more erratically, as you felt an orgasm hit you with full force. You mewled as your needy pussy discharged the seed of your pleasure all over him, hugging his hard erection, strangling his cock, encouraging him to come with you.

Joel was so damn close to coming, his nuts contracted with equal parts of pain and lust. He could feel your gush soaking his dick. He was about to lose his goddamn mind ― he needed to stop. His hands abandoned your breasts to place them on your butt to help you lift it up, so you would release his cock before it was too late.

“No, it’s okay. Fill me up, please, sir”, you wailed, your palms against his chest, your hips grinding against his.

Joel glimpsed at you with doubt. It was like you could read his mind, because you knew what he was thinking. You smiled softly, your wet pussy palpitating around his cock. You forced your inner walls to contract against him as you leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ve got the morning after pill. Please, please, Joel, come inside, I beg you. Trust me”, you wept, laying down on top of him.

He thought himself mad for believing you, but he did. Because he was mad for you, regardless of what he tried to convince himself of. He lifted your butt up off his lap with his hands ― with the help of his legs, the heels of his feet against the bedsheets, he thrusted into you like a madman while you remained still on top of him. Drilling your weeping cunt, as hard and fast as he could. He just wanted to know how it felt just once; he wanted you to milk him dry.

Joel fucked you like there was no tomorrow, the room echoing with the squishy sounds and the impact of flesh on flesh. He was fucking you so hard that you came again at the same time he spilled his spent in you ― Joel groaned like you never heard him before. The slick warmth you felt inside made you smile, your face buried in the curve of his neck, your nipples brushing his. With his pulsing dick still inside of you, you bit the skin on his neck, leaving a mark behind.

“Happy birthday, sir”, you whispered in his ear.

That was your gift to him. And to yourself, because you had wanted this from the very first time he impaled you in the forest. You had had to trade a few bits for the morning after pill, but it was worth every single one of them. You felt your cave so clogged with him and his cum, you thought you had descended to hell.

You both stilled, catching your breaths. His dick was still twitching, housed by your greedy, soaked cunt.

A minute later, he sat up on the bed, bit your mouth and lifted your butt up, his cock becoming free. He quickly laid you down in fetal position ― resting on your righthand side, back slightly curved, head bowed, your knees bent touching your breasts. He placed a hand on your left hip and tilted your pelvis a bit forward, so he could inspect your heart-shaped ass and your puffy, reddened pussy framed by your inner thighs.

Just in time to see his cum gushing out of your hole, dripping across your perineum and then going downwards, skidding through your butt cheek. One of his digits caught the semen before it hit the bedsheets, retraced its steps back and shoved the cum back inside of you with the push of his finger.

“You can’t waste my gift to you, baby, it’d be so fucking rude of you”, he purred in your ear, his voice coarse and warm at the same time.

He laid on his side behind you, moving his index in a circular motion, looking for your g-spot and finding it. He stroked it dextrously, sliding it in and out slowly. You closed your eyes, and fisted the bedsheet in your hand, trying to hold onto something. Your mouth shaped a perfect ‘O’ when he bottomed out, quickly adding a second finger. And a third. Then a fourth.

It didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust to such delightful intrusion ― your inner walls felt like clay, reshaping around him. Joel could feel you relax around his fingers and took the chance, introducing his thumb in your pussy too. Now his entire hand was buried in your fluttering cunt, down to his wrist. He remained still for a hot minute while your muscles loosened up to house him.

Then he slowly started to pump his fist inside of you, back and forth, building up a steady pace. Joel bit your shoulder and then kissed it ― his tongue tasting the saltiness of your sweat.

By that point you couldn’t stop moaning very loudly ― the whole building was probably listening to your whoring screams as Joel fisted you relentlessly with his whole hand. Each push propelling his cum further inside of you as if he wanted it to take. He was thrusting you so harsh, your entire body was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was fucking you senseless just with his hand ― and you were loving every single second of it.

Your sticky cunt couldn’t take it for much longer ― it was wet, pulsating, contracting, overstimulated, yearning… Your pussy literally was his, and only his. The orgasm had been building up for so long now that when you let it go, weeping at the top of your lungs, it hit you like a motherfucking truck. Your whole body went into shock while you squirted ― you were shaking due to the force of your own release. For fuck’s sake, you could barely breathe.

You whimpered again when he removed his hand and rubbed your wetness all over your delicate folds. Before you could form a coherent thought, he spanked you on your crotch so firmly it tingled ― you almost died and went to heaven right there and then, biting into the pillow underneath your head. He kept on slapping your quivering cunt until your sensitive clit twitched one last time with devastating pleasure, contracting your uterus so the last trickle of cum oozed out of you. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it gently against your asshole, caressing the tight ring, until you fully relaxed.

You sighed, unable to move. You even felt dizzy. Your limbs felt so limp you didn’t think you could sit up, so you just stayed there, melting against the bedsheets. You hadn’t realised your eyes had welled up until a few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of complete, utter joy ― there was no other way of describing it.

You were so damn grateful for this man, you swore to yourself you would never let him go. You had been with others, but none of your sexual partners had been so fucking attentive. Joel would always make sure you were completely satisfied, without fail. And that said a lot about him.

You rolled onto your back to look at him, wiping away the tears with a satisfied smile and dreamy eyes. He was still lying down on his side, his elbow against the bed, his head resting on the palm of his hand. He returned your smile ― such gesture transforming his rugged face. So gorgeous it tugged at your heart.

“Y’know, it was supposed to be all the way around today ― me fucking you until you begged”, you confessed, although it was not a complaint.

He grinned, his hand possessively cupping your mound. You parted your legs slightly so he could massage your sensitive furrow. It felt so calming after all that pussy-slapping he gifted you with.

“As redundant as it sounds, plans rarely go according to plan, sweetheart”.

Understatement of the fucking year, you thought.

You just laughed while his hand was still kneading your sticky flaps. Joel kissed your forehead before he took out his hand from in between your legs, your damp, intimate skin being swept by the cold air.

“The morning after pill?”, he asked a minute later.

“I got it from Kelsey, it’s in date. Don’t panic, it’s okay. I have three days to take it. Which made me think… I don’t need to do it straight away, right?”, you glanced up at him, a wide smile on your lips.

“Mhmm, I mean, it would be a waste otherwise, I guess”, he replied, tucking a stray hairlock behind your ear. “But I need a minute here, darlin’. You work miracles, but even I have limits. Wait up”, he mumbled grumpily as he palmed his left wrist, and then got out of bed while he tucked away his member back in his briefs.

Joel headed towards the en-suite bathroom. He came back out only a few seconds later ― you could see panic in his eyes. You sat back up on the mattress quickly.

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked with worry, kneeling on the bed.

“My wristwatch, I can’t find it. I am sure I left it by the sink before I came to bed last night. I can’t lose it. I can’t”, he was now frantically searching his bedside table, panic growing in his tone.

You bit down your lip, because you knew where it was. In the drawer of your nightstand. You had taken it in the middle of the night because your second present was getting it repaired for him today.

“I have it”, you whispered, shrugging with an apologetic smile.

“What? Why?”, he approached you, extending his hand towards you, his tone so serious. “Give it back now”, he almost growled at you.

His reaction took you completely off guard. Why was he so possessive over a broken watch? Trying to understand the sudden change in Joel, you opened the drawer and took it out.

“I just wanted to get it fixed for you, as a gift”, you didn’t understand what was happening.

“You have not fixed it, have you?! Because if you have―”, he snatched it off your hand, inspecting it.

You frowned ― his attitude towards you was completely off. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking things, is that clear?”, he snapped.

You looked at him blankly, speechless. Then your own temperament started to shimmer under the surface.

“Wow, wow, wow ― Calm the fuck down, Joel. It’s just a broken, useless watch―”, you stopped yourself because of his perplexed look.

“Shut up. It’s not just any watch. You don’t fucking understand”, he yapped.

“I would try and understand if you just fucking explained it to me?!”, you shouted at him while you got dressed. “What is your fucking problem, Joel? What’s up with that watch? I don’t read minds!”.

“Forget it”, he grumbled, strapping the watch to his wrist before putting his trousers on and grabbing a T-shirt, heading towards the door.

“That’s it? You just up and leave?”, you repressed the urge of throwing a pillow to his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do”, he muttered.

A few seconds later, you heard him opening the front door. Then he slammed it shut.

It was around lunchtime now and you had not seen Joel since this catastrophic morning. While you had the impression that Joel’s reaction was due to something he would not speak about, he had no fucking right to treat you that way. You were just trying to do something nice for him, that was all.

You walked through the main hallway of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was rammed with people running around ― some armed, some not. You didn’t think that humanity would prevail in big groups in such circumstances, but it did.

The Rioters had established some sort of order. People had tasks to do, everyone working together to build up a community. Chores were allocated according to people’s skills. Joel had been put on patrolling shifts, Tommy was helping with carpentry and other building jobs, and you were in the hunting group. As much as you hated pulling the trigger, you were a very good shot. All thanks to your good old Texan father.

You were on your way to check with the group if there were any plans of going out today when you got interrupted.

“Hey”, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“What’s up, Joyce?”, you looked at the older woman when you turned around.

Joyce was around fifty five years of age, maybe more, and was the kindest soul you had ever met. She had welcomed you to Chicago like a mother a daughter. Joyce showed you around, explained how the Rioters worked and guided you in the right direction. Because as good as everything looked, there was still darkness lurking around.

She was also the best cook ever. Like, no jokes, she could transform a tasteless rabbit in the most flavourful stew your tastebuds had ever been in contact with.

“I just finished cooking, do you want some stew?”, she asked with a warm smile.

Your stomach growled at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah”, you replied ― your duties could wait, surely.

“Watch your language, kiddo”, Joyce reprimanded you.

“Sorry, sorry”, all that time you spent with Joel was showing.

You followed her to the canteen and patiently waited for Joyce to pour some stew in a bowl. You then went with her to a table where more people were sat down. You didn’t know any of them, so Joyce introduced you. You were damn sure you weren’t going to remember one single name by the time you walked out the door.

“So, you’ve never heard the story of Eugene Williams?”, one of the men asked rhetorically to a younger fellow across the table, who shook his head in reply. “He was a black kid in 1919, when racial segregation was still in place here in Chicago. The summer of 1919 was so hot the kid wandered off to the white side of Chicago beach without realising. A man threw stones at him until the kid drowned and died. That was what ignited the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 ― and why we, the resistance, go by the Rioters”.

You listened to every word while you ate your meal. After hearing that explanation, many things made sense. Although they named themselves the Rioters, there were no riots in the streets ― actually, people seemed happy here, given the circumstances.

“That’s right, Walter, younger people need to learn about the past, so those mistakes are never repeated again”, said Joyce.

The conversation then moved on to present times, the people talking about the continuous fight against the so-called government.

Joel got the afternoon patrolling shift that day, which he thought was a killer, considering he did the night shift last night. But it was good in a sense ― it would keep his mind occupied. You had angered him so much this morning, it had set his mood for the rest of the day. The thought of you erasing that memory had maddened him so bad, he had to walk out before he said something he would later regret.

That watch was the only anchor chaining him to what little remained of his humanity. A gentle reminder of what could have been but wasn’t. Every day he wondered how Sarah would be doing in this new world. And most days, he was just somewhat grateful she wasn’t here to see what had become of civilisation. The unspeakable horrors she would have witnessed and suffered but didn’t ― it was very little consolation to a father, but it was better than nothing.

He absentmindedly touched the watch on his wrist, ensuring it was properly fastened.

Joel was stationed with other people in front of Bataan-Corregidor Memorial Bridge. In those long, never-ending hours, there was no activity on the other side of the bridge, but they had to remain vigilant nonetheless. By the time the next group showed up, it was already half eight in the evening.

Joel headed towards the headquarters to sign off and go home. He was already on edge, thinking about what he would say to you to appease you. Because he was damn sure you would be waiting for him, ready to pick up the fight where you both left it. As Joel walked past the canteen, he heard a familiar voice.

Tommy was on his feet, yelling at a man, his accusatory index pointing to the guy. Joel rolled the eyes to the back of his head ― he was sure his brother was so drunk he would probably not remember any of this the next day. Joel shook his head with disappointment ― some things would never change, not even when the world had gone to shit.

He planned to ignore the situation and get back home to you, when a fight started. Joel groaned in despair, debating what to do. But a man chose for him ― he saw how a bloke approached Tommy from behind, knife on hand, and he knew he had to do something. Joel quickly closed the distance in stride and grabbed the man from the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards until the dude stumbled with his own feet.

Madness broke out, the whole canteen becoming a battling ground. People were fighting each other over absolutely nothing, throwing punches in the air.

“Tommy!”, he shouted angrily, while the younger Miller turned around and simply smiled.

That fucking pissed him off big time.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? How much have you been drinking?!”, Joel wanted to punch his brother so bad, he really had to control himself.

“Not enough”, he babbled.

As Joel approached his brother, ready to fight him if necessary, the man he had pushed away from Tommy tapped his shoulder. When Joel turned around, the dude punched him in the face and then stabbed him in the lower stomach.

Joel froze for a second, his back slightly curved, his brain coming to terms with what just had happened. He looked down while his hand gripped the handle of the knife. He knew not to remove it because it was the blade what prevented him from bleeding out. Then Joel glanced back up at the same guy and, without thinking, he removed the knife from his flesh and sticked it on the man’s shoulder with a growl.

Joel’s wound started to bleed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Not that he noticed anyway, because hell literally broke loose.

It wasn’t late late, only ten in the evening, but none of the brothers was around when you returned home, which was weird. You could understand if Joel was avoiding you, but Tommy? You frowned as you called for them, shutting the main door behind you. Nothing, no reply at all.

Before you could walk to the living room to see if there was a note or something, someone knocked on the door.

You looked through the peephole. Joyce was standing outside, worry wrinkling her aged face. You opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Joyce?”

“It’s Joel, he’s in the infirmary”, she whispered while placing a soft hand on your forearm.

You just stared at her, bewildered.

“Huh? The where?”, you repeated, while her words started to sink in, your stomach contracting with fear.

“Come with me, kiddo”, Joyce took your hand, guiding you through the apartment building.

The next time you blinked, you were in an outbuilding outside the headquarters. Joyce palmed your hand with hers, in a calming gesture, while she took you to the far end of the shelter. The old lady planted you in front of Joel’s bed, and let go of you with a “take care”.

You stood there for a long minute, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened. He was asleep, his head slightly tilted away from you ― or so you hoped he was. Joel had no shirt on, a bloody bandage covering the right side of his abdomen. You got closer, your heart pounding in your throat.

“He’s fine, it’s just a scratch”, you looked up, befuddled.

Tommy was sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of the bed. He was crouching forwards, his elbow against his knee, head pressing against the palm of his hand. Tommy then smiled, which completely perplexed you.

You were about to reply, but suddenly Joel did instead.

“Fuck off, Tommy. Get your ass somewhere else”, he gritted his teeth.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but you had been holding your breath, because suddenly you felt a stone being lifted off your chest. You glanced at the younger Miller, who had gotten up with a smile. When he walked past you to go outside, you smelled it. The stench of alcohol made you wrinkle your nose unconsciously.

Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist to get your attention, so you turned around to look at him, so confused you couldn’t even form a sentence. Joel had already adjusted the pillow on his back so he could be somewhat sat up.

“It’s alright, no need to cry”, he said raising one of his hands to sweep away your tears.

You had not realised you were crying. Giving it a second thought, you probably had been since you left home. You pursed your lips and nodded, quietening your sobs.

“What…?”, you muttered, resting your cheek against his palm before placing a kiss on it.

“Tommy got into a fight in the canteen. He’s so drunk he probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow. A man tried to stab him, and I got in the way ― that’s all, sweetheart. No serious damage, just some stitches”, he tried to calm you.

You wished Tommy was still in the room, because you would have loved to slap the shit out of him for being so irresponsible. What the hell was he thinking? Joel was hurt because of him, and he had just left smiling as if it wasn’t so serious.

“Just leave him be, it’s worthless trying to speak to him in such a state”, something in Joel’s voice told you this wasn’t the first time he had been in this situation.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Joel, please, don’t lie to me―”, you mustered, trying to keep your tears in check, as you caressed his cheek.

He heavily sighed as he scooted over to one end of the tiny bed, leaving enough space for you to join him. You got on the gurney quickly, nestling against him, your arm across his chest in a half embrace. His body heat calmed your nerves a bit, although your hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine, I’m not lying. They won’t let me leave yet though, the nurse said I need to stay here for a couple of hours, until she’s certain the bleeding has stopped”, he explained, his fingertips tracing the shape of your right shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you said with a small voice, your left cheek against his chest.

Joel didn’t fight you on that, so you stayed by his side. His left hand was resting just below your face, his broken watch strapped around his wrist. You bowed your head a bit and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought fixing your watch was a nice thing to do, considering it’s been broken since I met you”, you tried to explain yourself, but Joel hushed you by cupping your chin so your eyes would meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you meant well. It’s just…”, you heard him gulp down, as if the next words were extremely painful to say out loud. “Sarah fixed this watch for me on my last birthday. It’s been stuck at 2.40 AM since… since we both got shot. One of the bullets broke it”, he recounted in a husked voice, his brown eyes focused on the timeless sphere.

Then it hit you. That was Sarah’s time of death. And, unknowingly, you almost ruined the last memento Joel possessed of his daughter. His most precious treasure. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of being responsible for such a thing. Had you known, you would have never even considered doing what you had planned.

“Gosh, Joel, I’m sorry. I swear to you I didn’t know”, you breathed out desperately.

“I know, baby. I should have told you that instead of getting angry and for that I apologise, but I just couldn’t…”, he clenched his jaw, and you tried to soften his expression with the touch of your fingers.

“Don’t apologise, please”, you kissed his bearded jaw and remained in comfortable silence for the next two hours, until Joel was finally discharged.

The next day you both stayed home. Tommy had tried to apologise when he came back to his senses, but Joel was having none of it. The younger Miller eventually understood that his brother just needed space until he decided to forgive him and gave up in his efforts. You were alone with Joel all day, making sure he was okay and helping him clean the wound. Those stitches were going to leave a nasty scar on him, but it was better than the alternative. It was healing well, no signs of infection, for which you were so pleased ― probably more than him. You almost had to tie him to the bed so he would stop fidgeting around ― Joel was going to get the wound open again if he didn’t remain still for a bit.

You knew Joel was just trying to keep his brain busy because this day marked a year since Sarah was wrongly snatched from his life. That was why he was so taciturn and quiet today, and you let him be for the most part.

When he sat down on the couch in the afternoon, you just nestled against his body, in silence, his arm affectionately enveloping you.

Nighttime came around soon enough, and you both got into bed. Joel spooned you as soon as he laid down behind you, his right arm hugging you, his chest against your back. You soon fell asleep in his warm embrace, feeling protected and content.

Joel woke up a few hours later, one of his recurrent nightmares haunting him. He grumbled in displeasure and got out of bed to change the dressing over the wound. He did so efficiently and returned to bed, slipping under the bedsheets quietly.

Another hour went by, and he was still awake, his eyes on the ceiling.

He rolled onto his left side and saw you sleeping peacefully, in the exact same position you fell asleep. You had not moved one inch. Joel smiled softly as he got closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you over to him, looking for your soothing warmth.

Unconsciously, you wiggled your hips to bury your butt in his bulge, and Joel contained a pitiful moan. Your perfectly round ass was innocently embedded in his groin. Now he was sure as hell he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. Irremediably, he pressed his manhood against your buttocks again, looking for that friction.

Joel felt his cock tense up, an erection taking hold. He freed his manhood, slowly pumping himself ― his leaky tip brushing your asscheek until a wet patch adorned your panties. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. You were all curled up, drooling on the pillow, faintly snoring, your knees slightly bent. He cut the distance between you and shoved his dick in your thigh gap, his shaft rubbing against your pussy covered by your underwear.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, your thighs sweetly compressing his cock ― the tip feeling cold when it overhung on the other side. Joel kissed your shoulder, his hand gently placed on your hip to steady himself.

“C’mon, baby, wake up”, he husked near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe.

You hummed, half awake. You felt your body being rocked, your eyes fluttering open and looking downwards. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Joel’s glans sticking out through your thigh nook, then disappearing from sight to reappear again. You smiled pleasantly, shutting your eyes, as you felt your needy cunt melt for him. You pursed your lips with delight.

“Can I have my birthday present again, sweetheart?”, he whispered in a constrained tone.

You nodded, scatterbrained.

You were drenching your underwear so bad, there was a visible damp, darken spot right in the middle. Joel pulled back from in between your legs and pushed the bridge of your panties to one side. He lodged his cock in between your puffy lips, sliding it through your entire slit a couple of times to douse himself with your fluids.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”, he muttered as you let out a soft moan when Joel pressed his tip against your dripping hole, your flesh parting as the Red Sea.

Then Joel slowly pushed his hard cock in inch by inch down to his balls. His right arm hugged you, poising you in place and sneaking his hand under your pyjama top to hold one of your full breasts. He stilled for a second, feeling your cunt sheathing him like a warm glove. He thrusted once, twice, thrice. You lost count after that, Joel plunging into you from behind, gaining erratic speed. You grasped the bedsheet in your fist, your spit pooling on the pillowcase.

You placed a hand on your mound and a few seconds later, you slipped it under your panties. With the palm against your clit to cause some grinding, you could feel Joel coming in and out of you in between your index and middle fingers. Your gushing cunt started palpitating around his slick cock, your inner walls squeezing him hard as you came, mewling like a kitten in heat.

Joel quickly followed you, his cum filling you up, breathing roughly behind you. You tilted your head towards your right to look at him over your shoulder. He kissed you, first gently, then more demanding, while his dick was still throbbing with the last wave of his release. Joel pinched your nipple before freeing your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart, so you don’t forget who you and your tight pussy belong to”, he groaned as he pulled out of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you said gratefully.

Joel put your underwear back in place and pressed the palm of his hand against your wet panties, his cum trickling out with yours and swamping the piece of clothing even more, saturating it, almost as if you had pissed yourself.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’”, he kissed the nape of your neck, his hand still lodged in your thigh gap, hard pressed against your satisfied, clothed pussy. You loved how possessive he was of you, literally claiming your cunt for himself at every chance he got.

With a pleased sigh, you tucked your hands under your head and fell back asleep within seconds.

The earth was round again.

[transit-fag]

I should be let into the road sign factory, I would write

"Are you sure this journey could not be done via train" on every single green interstate sign