#Truck Driver Birthday Present

[nadal-designer]

[jellyfishbug]

POP THE HOOD F'ME

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]

content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.

I had to fix it myself.

I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.

Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.

I was finally going to get my own truck.

So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.

I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.

I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.

So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.

It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".

For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.

As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.

I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.

Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.

Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.

The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.

The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.

I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.

His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.

"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."

A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.

"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"

"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"

"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.

"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.

"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."

I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.

His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.

The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.

Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.

"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.

"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."

He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"

"As much as I can." I shrugged.

He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"

Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."

Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.

He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.

"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.

"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."

He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.

"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.

Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.

He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"

My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.

I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"

"I can drive you,"

I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.

It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."

I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.

And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.

I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."

Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.

The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.

Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.

"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.

Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."

Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.

I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.

He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.

A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.

He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"

He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.

"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"

He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"

His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.

His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.

"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"

The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.

His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.

I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.

Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.

Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.

"What time do you need to be back?"

He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"

I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."

And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.

His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.

"Will you do me a favor?"

I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"

I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"

"Duh."

I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.

I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"

He nodded. "Should be one in there."

I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.

I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.

He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.

I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.

"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."

I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.

He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.

His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.

"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"

I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."

He nodded slowly. "Hm."

I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.

"You should get one." I say.

He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.

All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.

Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.

Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.

He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.

"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.

His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.

I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.

I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.

I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.

"Chris, fuck- please."

I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.

He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"

Baby.

I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.

"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.

I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."

He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"

I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.

"Tell me what you want."

I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"

It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"

I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."

I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.

He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.

He's big. Bigger then I expected.

A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.

"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.

"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.

His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.

I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.

I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."

Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.

He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"

I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.

My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.

Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.

"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .

My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.

I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.

I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.

His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.

I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."

He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."

He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.

We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.

I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.

"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."

Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.

"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"

part two? :)

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[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 10

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: very likely typos, fluffy stuff, cursing i think.

Words: 3157

The One I Want Masterlist

The words ‘I’ll be fine’ are still ringing in your ear, drilled into your brain from the excessive number of times they’d been said or texted in the last ten hours. From the moment you stepped out of your bedroom door this morning, Jake began insisting on picking you up from the shop following your shift. He insisted before you even had a chance to suggest an alternative plan for your day. As soon as you opened your mouth, he had his hand up and head shaking to stop you.

“Don’t even say it,” he said, “I’ll be there to get you, same as always,” to which you responded with what might as well be your new catchphrase: “I’ll be fine.”

His attempts to put his foot down on the matter were unsuccessful as you pointed out every reason why finding your own means of transportation after work is the best solution. He rolled his eyes at “It’s your birthday, Jake,” and snorted at “Your party at the bar starts an hour and a half before my shift ends,” but finally surrendered to “If you’re late, your friends will be disappointed. They mean too much to you for that.” Then he sighed and nodded and continued about his morning routine as you did yours before you headed to the shop. Though you thought you’d won, you received multiple “Are you sure?” texts that were also answered with “I’ll be fine.” And you are fine. Your shift was dull, uneventful, and you had no issue securing a quick ride to The Hard Deck. 

Hopping out of the back of the driver’s car is a struggle with the number of bags hanging off your arms. Between your purse, Jake’s present, and the clothes you wore to work shoved into a grocery bag—which were switched with the casual, green knee-length dress you’re wearing—you’re weighed down. 

“Need some help there, Sweetness?” Javy is one of few lingering outside the bar, and the only person you know within sight. He smiles and the arms crossed over his chest bounce with his chuckle. Before you answer, he walks over to snatch both your purse and the grocery bag in his hands. “I’m gonna toss these in Jake’s truck. No one will bother them,” he says.

In his brief absence, you stand a little straighter and brush the stray hairs back behind your ear. A low whistle coming from behind you causes you to flinch until you realize it’s from your friend as he makes his way back over to you.

“You're definitely lookin’ lovely,” he teases, and you snort.

“Quit it.”

“No can-do, sweetness. Too pretty to ignore.”

Heat floods your cheeks and you look down at the ivy-green material flowing around your body. It’s about as simple a dress you could find—well, that Millie could help you find after insisting on leaving behind the jeans—but it’s much more than anything you’ve worn in the past. Social events have never been your cup of tea. Not being invited out has left you slim on practice, and that includes every aspect down to your choice of clothing. While Millie did help you pick it out, it doesn’t necessarily mean she is an expert either, but you have no way of knowing for sure. “Is it too much?”

“Not a chance,” Javy replies. “You look amazing. And you happen to be the very reason I am out here instead of in there.”

“Meaning…”

“As Jake’s top-tier friend, I want to be the one to personally deliver his favorite present. Now that you’re here, I can do that,” he says with a wink before holding out his elbow for you to take. 

—

Jake’s eyes are already on the door when you walk in, finding you instantly, and his entire body perks up like a man just shot with a bolt of life. Shoulders lose the little bit of slump there was from forearms resting on the high-top table and eyebrows drop their pinch as he watches your every step toward him. Through the mass of bodies Javy assists in weaving you through, Jake’s stare is impressive. It’s steady and he doesn’t lose you, not for a second. 

When you reach him, Javy loudly declares “The contest is over! I just won best present.” He then releases you to round the group and pops open a bottle of beer with the edge of the table. By the multiple marks on the wood surface, you imagine—hope, anyway—that Penny doesn’t mind. However, if anyone were to follow her rules and respect the property she requests be respected, it would be this group. 

As you stand there greeting the rest of the crew, you can still feel those green eyes. A few other pairs dart back and forth between you and Jake. Tension bubbles around the back corner of the room where the modest party is set up, but it’s not an aggressive tension from distress or concern of discomfort; it’s a tension buzzing wildly with excitement. And from the smiles on faces and the little redhead you’ve bonded with bouncing on her toes, you can begin to guess where this buzzing, humming, zapping energy is coming from. 

They know. You’re not sure why a flash of surprise moves through you. Of course, they know. Of course, Jake told them. They’re his best friends. They’re the family he made after the devastation of having his own taken from him. His sharing of what’s happened between you over the last week is normal, so normal that it’s unfamiliar. One more thing you’ll have to get used to if Jake continues to pull you out of the existence you’ve known for so long.

“Hi,” he says. It rides on a heavy exhale that you can barely hear through the cacophony of voices filling the bar. 

Jake’s friends appear to go back to their conversations, but they’re no good at disguising their true intentions. Their ears are alert as eyes rely on the strength of their peripheral vision to catch either your or Jake’s next move. A tight squeeze with roaming hands, a deep kiss, an arm wrapping possessively around a shoulder or waist—they’re clearly eager to witness it all, but the anticipation hanging in the air is snuffed out by Jake leaning in and innocently brushing his lips over your cheek. To your side, there is a collective murmuring of disappointment that is, again, poorly disguised.

“You get here ok? I mean, you know, without complication?” Jake asks. A nod joins your budding grin. 

“Easy-peasy.” He stares more, his fingers traveling from your elbow to your wrist, and you suddenly remember what’s clutched in your hands. “Oh, I got you this,” you say, holding up the bag. It’s made of a thin, golden paper that’s priced way too high for its quality with clashing orange tissue sticking out of it, and it’s about four sizes too big for the gift you got him, but it was all the shop had last minute. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. That’s what people do,” you counter, because even though you’ve never received a present on your birthday, Jake is the type of guy who always should. You hold the bag higher, forcing him to take it.

“Thank you,” he says before turning to set the bag on the table. It’s then that you see the remnants of paper and bows scattered across the wooden surface. Piled on a couple of stools behind Bob are the gifts he has already opened. Jake’s hand starts to dig through the bright orange tissue paper. 

“You’re going to open it right now?” you ask, having previously imagined there would be at least a sliver less of attention on the two of you when he does. Your fingers of one hand begin to fiddle with the fingers of the other. 

“Sure, why not?” His hand pauses and he looks at you a little harder. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“N-No, it’s fine.” A blond brow raises. “Really, it is.”

He waits a second longer before resuming his discarding of the paper. When he looks inside, his hand retreats, and he watches your gift at the bottom of the bag as if it might start moving on its own. Then his head shakes and he grins ear to ear and he reaches back in to pull it out. The brows of the other aviators pinch in confusion at the globe sitting in the palm of Jake’s hand. In all of its cheap glory, it contains a beach scene with plenty of unnatural sparkly snow settled at the bottom of the liquid which is quickly disturbed by Jake’s light shaking. He chuckles. Then chuckles some more. Crinkles deepen at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Rooster mutters, only to have Millie elbow him in the side. 

“You don’t have to,” she scolds. “Now hush.”

Despite Jake’s laughter, when he places the snow globe back in the bag you fear you’ve somehow fucked up. That it’s not as cute as you imagined he would think. That he’d rather you have gotten him nothing over something so silly. But then he faces you, takes your hand, and as he starts to walk away from the table, whispers, “Come with me.”

As you’re led away you glance over your shoulder to see that your friends are all in different states. Nat and Bob are exchanging glances and snickering at the birthday boy’s rapid departure, Millie is smacking her boyfriend’s hand as he reaches for the golden bag, and Javy smirks along with the statement “That certainly didn't take long.” 

You look ahead, but before you can fully catch up with your surroundings, you’re yanked through a door and pushed up against the other side of it as a mouth firmly presses to yours. Jake’s palm smacks the surface next to you, blindly feeling around for the deadbolt, and the thud from its turn echoes in the empty bathroom. Then his hands cup your cheeks and you melt as he pulls you in closer. 

At a different time, with a different man, unmanageable thoughts would be taking control of your senses right now. Your fingers would be stiffening and your eyes would be snapping open, darting around to take in every square inch of the room in search of signs of other people. You would be listening for any and every sound with such intensity that you’d have a decent count on the number of footsteps passing by the other side of the door. You wouldn’t be letting yourself go or forget your troubles or feel for a single moment because you know what this behavior looks like. You know how others often perceive it. In the midst of past frenzied kisses, your brain would deteriorate into a fractured mess. Ten percent of your mind would struggle to focus on the wandering hands and lips attached to yours; fifteen percent would go to wondering if anyone saw you sneak into the bathroom with a man; twenty would be spent worrying you’ll receive looks of judgment and pity once you rejoin the bar; twenty-five would be questioning why you’re choosing to be in the position you’re in when you know it won’t end well; and the remaining thirty percent would be trying to prematurely push away the shame to come when the somewhat intoxicated man kissing you in the bar bathroom decides he is done. 

It’s not a different time, though. You’re not with a different man. You’re exactly where you are, with the man you are with, and you don’t care about anything but him. 

Jake is pulled in with hands fisted in the material of his shirt. He’s your only source of stability and direction as he turns your bodies and walks you backward. When your lower back meets the edge of the sink, you separate the kiss and instinctually jump up. Of course you jump. You always jump in these situations. But this time when your bottom lands on top of the counter, you don’t second guess the man whose hips are settling between your spread thighs, whose eyes gaze at you like you’re the most incredible thing they've ever seen, whose hands are threading into your hair, whose lips are once again claiming yours. 

His tongue teases the seam of your lips and when you part them so it can slip inside to brush along yours, muffled moans merge. The fingers hidden within the strands of your hair tighten into fists. They stay there until your own hands begin to explore. One index finger curls through a belt loop, tugging inward to remove what little distance remains between you. The other is the first on that hand to dip under the hem of his shirt and stroke over a patch of tanned skin just above the button of his jeans. You love how he feels there—hard with thick muscle but soft from the trail of hair that disappears under a band of denim. Jake shudders against you, and it seems to serve as a reminder that there is more of you for him to touch as well. 

With your hair freed, a hand grasps your outer thigh where your dress has ridden up. Fingertips knead flesh as an arm snakes around your waist. A squeak of surprise gets stuck in your throat when that arm jerks forward, unexpectedly managing to inch your bottom closer to the edge of the counter. 

There is so much happening, so much to absorb, and you don’t have a chance to mentally address the tick of uncertainty that never showed itself. Instead, you are simply full of the feeling that none of this scares you. Not a bit of it. Not the strength of his arm around you. Not the hand that has begun to slide up your thigh and under the hem of your dress to the swell of your ass. Not the pressing of his hips into the space between your legs. Not the heat he gives off that fights the chill of the room. Not his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, or the whimpers it draws forth that with anyone else would have you shrinking in embarrassment. You’re so far from afraid that you've crossed into happily addicted territory.

His mouth vanishes from yours to latch onto your neck. The sound you make at the new sensation has Jake’s hold on you tightening. 

“All because of a—” you gasp from a teasing lick under your ear, “a snow globe?”

You’ve learned that Jake likes to leave trails of his kisses; mark after mark to show the places he’s been. It is between the kisses of this trail from your ear to your shoulder that you hear “Partly the snow globe,” after one kiss, “partly this dress,” after another, and then “mostly just because it’s you.”

Jake chuckles when you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. You could let him continue on for hours—would, too—but a banging on the door snaps you out of your blissful haze. 

Cursing, your spine straightens like a rod. “J-Just a second!” you yell, patting Jake’s shoulder. He hums into your sensitive skin, sending vibrations over your pulse. “Jake, I know you heard that. People want in.” There’s another knock, and another. Leaning back and placing your hands on his cheeks, you force Jake to look at you. “Time for you to leave.”

He holds his finger up. “One condition.”

“No conditions,” you say as you nudge him aside and hop off the counter. “There are women out there who have to pee.”

It’s a boom this time, leaving no question as to the person’s impatience. Twisting around, you glance over yourself in the mirror. Your lips are stolen, hair wild, and as you go about fixing it back into place, Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“Promise me we can continue this at home,” he says. “I don't want to stop.” 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “Maybe…if you go.”

“Deal.” One more kiss lands on your shoulder before Jake is unbolting the door and jerking it open for whoever is on the other side. He peeks his head out, glances left and right, then looks back at you. “No one’s here.”

“You still have to go.” His face falls into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. All of your friends are waiting for you, anyway.”

“They're waiting for you, too.”

“It's not my birthday. And I need to fix myself up a bit.”

Jake grins. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you see his eyes linger on your face and chest, enjoying the flush he caused that is more prominent under the fluorescents. They then make a slow line down your body, taking the time to appreciate your ass along the way. “That really is a great dress.”

Your flush deepens. “Go,” you demand, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks and then he’s gone. 

A squeeze traps the air in your lungs. It caves in your chest, making the thumping of your heart all the more demanding of your attention, and you roll your eyes when it becomes clear that your body is reacting to you missing him. Two seconds apart and you already want him back, and now you feel like a giddy fool; a horny teenager around the first boy to ever truly want her. 

Blowing out that trapped breath, you run your fingers through your hair to tame it. It doesn’t manage to return to its previous state, but there is nothing you can do about it. Neither can you remove that pink shade from your cheeks and chest despite the damp paper towel you blot over your skin. You look half-sexed, and it’s comically obvious. But maybe if you channel Jake Seresin energy and walk back to your friends’ table without looking guilty, they won’t look at you like you have something to be guilty of. Not guilty in a demeaning sense, of course, but guilty in a way that will have them shooting teasing looks at you right before Nat and Millie pull you away from the men for details of your actions.

That will have to be your plan, because there is no chance they won’t notice your altered appearance, especially when they immediately knew why you and Jake were disappearing to begin with. 

Shaking your head, you tug at the bottom of your dress to make sure all of its seams line up with where they are supposed to be on your body. When you decide it’s about as good as it’s going to get, you head for the door and pull it open, but your path is blocked. 

“Good thing he finally left,” Brit says. She steps forward and to avoid a collision you have to take a step back into the bathroom. “Now we have a chance to talk.”

---

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[cooliestghouliest]

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.

word count: 4k+

cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.

notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈

Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.

As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.

While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:

“You need to pick up more shifts.”

You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.

Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.

Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.

Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.

Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.

You felt like he already did.

This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.

Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.

He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.

The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand. 

The rest is history.

“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.

“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”

He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.

“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”

Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.

“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”

You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.

And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.

“Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”

“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”

He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.

It was all part of your grander birthday plan.

You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.

Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.

Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.

“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”

Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.

While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.

You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.

By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.

“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”

You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”

But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.

You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.

Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.

“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.

Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”

“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.

He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.

“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.

“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”

His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.

Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?

Jesus, how did he get so lucky?

“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.

He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.

You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.

But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.

You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.

“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.

You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.

All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.

Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.

“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.

He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.

“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.

Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.

“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”

“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”

Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.

“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.

Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.

It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”

Evil woman.

Evil, perfect woman.

Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.

“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.

“Yeah, dude! We got this!”

Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.

Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.

“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.

“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”

You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.

“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.

He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”

“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”

And that’s what does it.

Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.

Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.

You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.

He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.

He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.

Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.

“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.

He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.

That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.

“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.

Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.

“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”

Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.

“Mean,” you pouted.

Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, I will be.”

[lillaydee]

Delusions

Joel Miller (AU) / Reader (Narration by Unhinged, Delusional OFC)

When jealousy makes one see you through distorted, circus-mirrored glasses.

Word Count: 13,293

WARNINGS:Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Joel is in love, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Sexual Assault (On a Male Character), Drink Spiking, Delusions, Completely Unhinged (But Dumb as a Doornail) OFC, Descriptions of Bloody Attack, Mental Illness.

***

Nell had never understood the appeal of you. What did you have that she didn’t? She was so much prettier than you. Everyone said so. You didn’t even wear make up for God’s sake, and you bought clothes at discount shops. And yet people seemed drawn to you.

She loved you. She really did. You were her best friend. You had been since infancy. Your mom worked for her family. She was their housemaid. Your mom and her mom, Susan, got pregnant at around the same time. Your father was a long-haul truck driver, so he wasn’t home as often, and when she was born, her family hired a live-in nanny to help with her. Your mom had been looking for day care options for you when Susan suggested she just bring you over and the nanny could look after you both when she worked.

Her family loved you. They doted on you. When the time came for you to go to school, they offered to pay for you to get private education, same as her, so that way, the two of you wouldn’t be separated. You mom politely declined; your parents didn’t want you to be spoiled like that. They wanted you to grow up knowing where you came from, to understand the value of hard work and money. It wasn’t Nell’s fault that your family had no money. So, the two of you were separated during the school terms but spent a lot of time together during the holidays, when your mom would bring you to work with her.

You two remained close. Best friends. But Nell couldn’t help but notice that you had more friends than she did. Even her own friends from her private school ended up being more your friends than hers, and yet, your friends didn’t seem to like her so much. It wasn’t Nell’s fault that they were simple, mind-numbingly boring people. You kept getting invites to birthday parties and sleepovers, when she could only get parties and sleepovers at her place, and that too, normally ended up with her friends crowding around you, spending time and talking with you than her. They all invited you to their parties and sleepovers, but not her. It wasn’t Nell’s fault that their houses were not as well equipped as hers. She was just pointing out facts.

When the two of you turned sixteen, her parents got her a Mercedes. They wanted to get you one too, but you declined. Instead, you used your own money to buy a second-hand Mini Cooper that made so many creaks and groans when driven, you called it Creaky. Her parents reimbursed you for the money as a present instead.

Despite her having the nice car, you still had more friends cramped in your Creaky than she ever had in her Mercedes. Creaky was always full. She saw you and your friends (most of which were her friends before they were yours) laughing as it puttered along, filled tighter than a sardine can, driving down the street, off somewhere where she wasn’t invited, again. It wasn’t Nell’s fault that she had so many demands for her passengers. Did you know how much it cost to detail a car?

You made time for her, though. She would tell you her problems, and you would console her, gave her advice, and made her feel better. She really loved you. She didn’t know what she would do without you in her life.

She made it to an Ivy League university, her parents being large donors to a couple of them. You received a partial scholarship to the same university, and her parents offered to pay for the rest of your college fees, but you declined. You didn’t even want to go. You opted for the local community college, wanting to live at home and be close to your parents.

Nell, being the beautiful young woman that she was, had no problems getting the young men to fall for her. But for some reason, the young men never stuck. They would sleep with her, and more often than not, ghosted her. The few that stuck around seemed more interested in having her take them to fancy restaurants and buy them things than commit to her. And these guys didn’t like that she was sleeping with more than one guy, surprisingly. They often left her. Not her fault that she was so beautiful she needed to have more than one guy. She was just being fair.

You, on the other hand, were more reserved, and preferred to stay home and not party. You had one boyfriend throughout high school. But when his family moved across the country, the two of you broke up. And by the time you were in college, you were so content with focusing on your studies you didn’t get involved with anyone.

Every time Nell introduced you to one of her guys, they would end up asking about you often. Even when she was out clubbing, the guys she flirted with would recognize her from being your friend, and asked if they could get your number. Nell didn’t understand. You wouldn’t even sleep with anyone unless you were in love with them. And you didn’t have money. Your dates consisted of movies and tacos at the truck. And yet, all these guys were clamouring for you. You didn’t even wear sexy clothes. You stuck to your ponytail and jeans and shirts. You didn’t even get your boobs done. You didn’t even get lip injections. She couldn’t fathom it. What was your appeal?

But it’s okay. She was the one who was out there. She was the one who were getting dates every night. Not you. So, that’s something, right? But even with all the men she had slept with, there was one man she wanted so badly, but could never seem to get.

Joel Miller.

He was hot. So hot. Him and his brother Tommy did construction. They worked for their father. Nell had heard rumours about Joel. She could see it, in fact. The guys he used to share a locker room with were talking about it openly. They called him Hung Miller to distinguish between him and his brother. His ex-girlfriend was too shy and ladylike to talk about it. Nell set her eyes on him, going after him every chance she got. But he never gave her the time of day. She sampled Tommy once at the bar. He was big. But apparently Joel was bigger. And she wanted to sample Joel - badly. But he didn’t talk much. Never went to the bars as much as Tommy did. And when she tried to talk him up, he always made excuses and left.

Nell gave up in the end. She went to college and found herself a Law major who had money just like her, Tony. He got her. They have the same background. So, she decided, for now, she would stick with Tony. They went steady, and for once in her life, Nell found herself falling in love, and didn’t cheat on him at all.

When she told you about Tony, you were really excited for her. Finally, you had said, someone tamed Wild Nellie. She had giggled with you over FaceTime about it. She couldn’t wait for you to meet him, she said. How she wished you would find someone too. She wanted you to be happy. Like her. You replied with your standard you’re too busy with school to date. Nell rolled her eyes – you could graduate with your eyes closed. You were so smart.

When she finally introduced Tony to you, the two of you got along swimmingly. Nell was so happy. She was so in love with him. Tony would join the two of your when you FaceTime each other and made joking remarks at you. You only met him once, but you could tell he was a good guy. You were happy your friend found someone like him. Maybe her wild days are over.  

Susan got sick that year. She was in a car accident and suffered a stroke during recovery. Nell was too busy in college to go home and help, so you did. You came by every day to help Susan out, even though her husband had hired help to help her with her recovery. You read to her, did crochets with her to help her hands get their dexterity back, swam with her, cooked with her, and called Nell every day so she could say hi to Susan. It wasn’t Nell’s fault you always called when she was busy doing college things.

When Tony found out about her mother, he wanted to visit, but she didn’t want to. She was having fun where she was. There were people around to take care of her mother. She wasn’t needed. And Tony made a remark where she should be more like you. Caring, kind, considerate, empathetic. That stung her. It was clear to her that even he thought you were better than her. Just like her parents, her friends, her exes. But she loved him, so she let it go.   

When she went home for the summer, she discovered that her parents had hired someone to make their house more wheelchair friendly. Not just anyone, in fact, but the Miller brothers. She took this opportunity to try her luck with Joel again, just to feed her ego. But again, he rebuffed her. Seemingly uninterested in her at all. Which couldn’t be possible. Had he seen her? She was hot. How could he not want her? She divided her time spent during that summer trying to get his attention and watching you take care of her mother. She would wear the skimpiest bikini and lounged around the house in them, and Joel didn’t even look her way. She rubbed herself on him all the time, accidentally, of course, and he just moved out of the way. At one point, she even accidentally on purpose dropped her towel on him while he was working on the bathroom ramp, revealing her perfect, naked body. Still, he didn’t bat an eye at her.

And then one day she saw him looking at you longingly. You were crocheting with her mother, telling her a story, laughing merrily. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. She started noticing Joel would find reasons to work within your vicinity and tried to talk to you. Whenever you talked to him back, Joel would stand all awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly, looking flustered that you would give him the time of day.

And finally, on the last day of construction, just before he left, she saw him kiss you.

Nell slept with Tommy that night, just to get her frustrations out of the way. She told him how she couldn’t understand why Joel would choose you, and not her. Tommy told her that Joel had always had a thing for you. Since high school. But you and him both were in relationships, so he didn’t do anything about it.

Again, Nell didn’t get it. Why you?

That night, the night before she went back to college, she and Tommy fell asleep in her bed. Tony FaceTimed her, and she absentmindedly picked up. He saw that she was naked in bed with someone. And broke up with her on the spot.

Nell was broken hearted. She flew back the next day and begged him to give her another chance. He ignored her. She blamed you kissing Joel for her indiscretion. She obviously wouldn’t have slept with Tommy if she hadn’t seen you do that.

She went through the rest of her college years sleeping around and drinking her troubles away, especially since you told her you and Joel were officially dating now. You were so happy with him. She drank and slept around some more to cope with that. She failed her final year, having partied too much. It’s your fault, of course. Why couldn’t you just keep your happiness with the one man she wanted to yourself? Just before she left, she said goodbye to Tony. He had moved on, another Law major, who looked just about as boring as you were. He traded down, she thought. He politely said goodbye to her and told her he’s glad her mother was doing better. She wondered how he knew – and he told her he had called you from time to time to ask about Susan.

Oh.

When Nell got back in town, she received such a scolding and lecture from her father she couldn’t think straight. She drove to your house to vent, only to be told that you had moved out. She went to the new address and Joel answered the door.

You had moved in with Joel Miller, just last week. And the night before, he had asked you to marry him, and you had said yes, you told her excitedly.

You were sharing good news with her. But all Nell saw was red.

Why you? Why not her? What was so special about you that everyone, her own parents included, preferred you? Why did you get to be happy? Why not her?

Nell hugged you upon hearing the news. She looked at Joel, faux happiness on her face. He looked good. Mouth wateringly good.  

She decided right there and then.

You had taken everyone from her.

She was going to take Joel Miller from you if it was the last thing she did.

***

Nell could see the challenges that she was going to face. Joel didn’t want to be alone with her at all. He went into the kitchen with you when you went to get drinks. When you went to the next room to answer a phone call, he went with you. You went to the bathroom; he went outside for a smoke – he must have some hideaway because Nell tried to follow but he was nowhere to be seen. When you decided to cook lunch, he helped you, never leaving your side. And you didn’t do the classic ‘no you should stay with Nell, entertain her’ thing her mother did to her father either.

God, what a clingy couple.

It didn’t help that Joel couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you either. A hand on your back, on your thigh, around your shoulder, and you were equally bad – letting him do that with her right there. How shameless.

She needed a game plan.

So, she tried the simplest thing first. Could she perhaps stay the night? She didn’t want to go home and face her father just yet. You looked at Joel, and he shrugged, telling you it was up to you. She’s your friend.

Oh, so now he’s not even friends with her?

After dinner, you put on a movie. You gave her your sleep sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in. You cuddled up to Joel to watch the movie, Nell on his other side. She surreptitiously made her way closer to him as the movie progressed, but just as she was about to get near enough to feel the beginnings of his body heat, he got up and went to the kitchen for a drink. When he came back, he sat on your other side, putting her plan to accidentally fall asleep on him to bed.

When you started to fall asleep, Joel lifted you up and brought you into the bedroom. Nell’s heart jumped. Finally. A chance to be alone. But Joel placed you on the bed, came back and shut the door. Not even a good night her way.

She woke up early the next morning to sounds of soft moans and grunts from your bedroom. She could hear him shushing you, his low sexy voice talking to you, but she couldn’t hear what he said exactly. Who would have sex when a guest was in the next room? She knew you. You didn’t even like sex that much. You’d only slept with what, three men? You were a prude. Inexperienced. Unlike her. You would never have sex with her in the next room. It was all so out of character for you. And you could never satisfy him in bed the way she could. There was no way Joel would want you like this, though. Nell didn’t get it. Why would he find you desirable and not her? I mean, you never got your hair done. You used the 2-in-1 shampoo for God’s sake. And your nails? You clipped them down, never even got a manicure. You didn’t even bother to look good. And here she was, someone who had spent so much money to look the way she did, and he wanted you?

Seriously. It boggles the mind. The good news was, Joel Miller was just a man. So, with your lack of interest in beauty care, surely he will see what he was missing if it was shoved in his face enough, right?

So when you came out looking freshly fucked, wearing only a shirt she assumed was his, she made sure to pretend she was still asleep. When she joined you in the kitchen, she was only wearing the shirt you loaned her. Let him have a peek at what he would be enjoying soon. But it seemed like Joel didn’t even notice her. He acted as if you were the only other person in the room. She needed more time, and more tactics. Show him what she could offer that you couldn’t.

She announced that she wanted to celebrate the happy couple. Dinner tonight? At the most expensive restaurant in town. Please? You told her that you and Joel were not that kind of people. The two of you prefer to keep it simple. Nell waved her hands off at you, telling you that a special celebration was in order. Come on, please?

You finally said okay.

So, at dinner that night, Nell flexed her flirting skills with Joel. She ordered the most expensive everything. Champagne, caviar, courses and courses of the most decadent and pricey stuff she knew you could never afford to lavish him with. She bought the two of you presents, a diamond bracelet for you, and a Rolex for Joel. She needed him to understand how serious she was about wanting him, how she could give you more than you could ever imagine. He didn’t really react to the watch the way she expected him to. Just looked at it, closed the box and pushed it towards you. And you, as always, declined the gifts, saying that she didn’t have to do this. Nell insisted, saying that you would never buy stuff like this anyway, so she would do it for you. She wore the two of you down and received a quiet thank you with a polite smile from both of you.

She had planted her first seed. You could never afford to buy him gifts like this.

When the meals arrived, Joel, again, was not reacting the way she wanted him to. He only talked to you in low voices, as if Nell wasn’t even there, unenthusiastically eating the food without any comments. And you, as usual, just looked uncomfortable with all the food and the many cutleries on the table. The two of you didn’t even finish your caviar. She tried to get the two of you to talk about the wedding, but you said it was too early to plan. And a lightbulb turned on in her head.

She will pay for the wedding. She will plan it! It’s genius. She will have access to Joel, and you will be none the wiser!

She held your hand, eyes brimming with fake happy tears, telling you that you deserve everything good, that you had always made her happy, and to let her do this for you. But again, you said no. It’s alright Nellie, we will take care of everything ourselves. No need to go out of your way for us. You patted her hand with yours, and that was when Nell saw your engagement ring for the first time. She had assumed he didn’t get you one, but apparently he did.

It was nothing to shout about. The diamond was small. It didn’t even look new. You told her that it was his mother’s ring. Nell cringed internally at that – what a cheapskate. He didn’t even buy her a new ring?

Something swelled in her heart. A realisation.

He didn’t really love you. He would spend money on a new one if he did. And he didn’t bother. Instead, he slapped on his late mother’s ratty, cheap old ring on you.

So, she made a comment on what a great idea that was, saved so much money, huh Joel? You smiled politely and told her that it was the thought that counted, his mother’s ring held a high value in your eyes, that he thought you special enough to give you something that was hers – the woman who gave birth to him, someone he loved very much.

Sure, Nell thought, whatever.

But she was convinced she had planted the second seed. He wasn’t willing to spend money on you. Surely that would plant some doubt in your head.

When leaving the restaurant, Nell asked if the two of you would like to go to a bar, but the two of you declined. She asked where you were going, maybe she could join you? But Joel quickly answered that the two of you wanted to spend the rest of the night alone. Again, very politely. She was starting to lose her patience. What’s with all the politeness? And couldn’t he just let go of your hand? Shove the fact that he wanted you and not her in her face, Joel Miller. Stupid man. Blind man.

But such a sexy man. A sexy man she wanted to try. She needed to. He was the only man who had ever rejected her. And he was brought down to his knees by you. You. Of all people. The one who only had nice things out of her parents generosity, the one who wore her handouts. The one who wore a brandless pump and home-sewn summer dress to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

She needed him to see that he was settling with you. She could tell that deep down, he was not that into you. How could he be? When he wouldn’t even spend money on you when it came to what was supposed to be the symbol of his love. He could have so much more with her. Even looking at him now, in his generic brand dress shirt and jeans, she could tell that you never bothered to shower him with gifts. What respectable woman would let a man as fine as Joel Miller wear generic brands? God, you were so stupid.

As she was driving out, she saw you pressed up against the door of his truck, him kissing you passionately. She wanted him to do that with her. God! It’s so infuriating! She drove around aimlessly for a while, before deciding to head to a club. And she saw the two of you again. At your favourite Taco Truck, shoving tacos into your mouths and laughing with each other, Joel looking so happy and content she wanted to scream. She spent thousands for dinner, and didn’t get so much as a smile from him – both of you looking so uncomfortable and out of place in the restaurant, and now you’re eating tacos and elated about it? Ugh!

Maybe he’s too much of a low life for her. Who preferred cheap dollar tacos to caviar? Maybe she should give up this quest to fuck Hung Miller and let the low-class man marry the low-class you.

But no. You had always taken everything that was hers. She was going to take what was yours. For once. See if you liked it. You should know what it felt like to have people that was yours taken away from you, and how much it hurt to see them happier with her than with you.

The next day, Nell went shopping. She spared no expense, buying Joel all the branded clothes she could get her hands on. She stopped by your place and saw that Joel’s truck was there, but your Creaky was not. She almost jumped with joy when she went knocking. Joel opened the door, but the smile on his face turned off when he realized it was her. He straight up told her that you were not home. Nell tried very hard not to take his obvious lack of enthusiasm to see her to heart, but she was starting to feel like he didn’t want to see her, which was impossible, of course.

She told him that she had presents for him. Without opening the door further he asked her why? She tried to push the door open, but he wouldn’t let her. So, she pressed up to the door as close as she could and told him a fine man such as himself deserve better than generic brands. He was engaged to her best friend now, and this was her way to try and be his friend. He told her there was absolutely no reason she should be his friend too. They didn’t even know each other. She told him they could get to know each other, her eyes basically fucking him up and down. He was about to tell her to come back when you were home when Creaky’s classic sounds came around the corner.

Nell took a disappointed step back, and Joel rushed out to greet you. She saw him talk to you quietly for a bit, and you asked her what she was doing there. She showed you the bags she had with her, presents for Joel, she said. You smiled politely and told her she didn’t have to do all that. She waved it off and said anything for her best friend’s new fiancé. When she drove off, she noticed that the bags were still outside, you and Joel discussing something, you obviously not looking too happy. She smiled smugly to herself. She would’ve gone mental if she had found a beautiful, rich woman such as herself at her door with such a handsome fiancé, and had gone shopping for him, at that.

She had planted another seed. You must have been jealous to find her there with all those expensive clothes for him. All she had to do was keep planting them. And her efforts will grow and be fruitful.

That night, she went clubbing again. Her parents had been at her ears all day about getting a job. She wasn’t interested. It wasn’t like she needed the money. So, she danced the night away, looking for someone to be a distraction for the night, until she could get her hands on Joel Miller. But no one was biting. In fact, men avoided her like the plague. She couldn’t understand it. And then, from afar, she saw Tommy. Perfect.

As she got nearer, she noticed something. He was wearing the clothes she had bought for Joel. And his Rolex. The very same one she had bought for Joel. She commented on them, and he just told her that Joel gave them to him, Joel was never comfortable with expensive stuff.

What? Of all the nerve!

He pulled her outside. She tried to kiss him, but he kept her at arm’s length. Told her that she had to stop. Stop what? Tommy knew she was after Joel. Not only had she openly complained about Joel choosing you instead of her to him at the beginning, but she had also openly tried to get his attention from the start. Everyone knew she was after Joel. Everyone could see, even you, Tommy said. She made it so obvious when they were working at her house. And now, she was making it even more so damn obvious. She had done to Joel what she had always done to the men she was after, which was throw money at them. Joel will never fall for that. He had never been impressed by money. He told her that Joel was in love with you. He wanted you, and not her. Please leave him alone. He’s marrying you. He’s happy.

He hasn’t married you yet, she told him, and left.

Her frustrations were burdensome that night. She didn’t get to bring anyone home; no one wanted to entertain her. She got rejected by Tommy, of all people. Joel had rejected her gifts to him. Tommy had the audacity to suggest that Joel would never want her.

And she also found out you knew. You knew all along she had her sights on Joel back then, and still you went after him. Seduced him. Dated him. Moved in with him. Agreed to marry him. And now, she realized, it must have been you that morning she spent the night at your place - you had the gall to initiate sex with him, knowing she was right in the next room. Show off much? She knew there was no way he could initiate sex with someone like you. She just knew it.

She could not let you get away with this. She could not let you marry Joel and trap him like this. You didn’t love him, you just wanted him because she had her sights on him first. Just like you wanted her friends. And her parents. And Tony. Why else would they all prefer you to her. The only explanation was that you had manipulated them somehow, just like you were doing to Joel. She had to put a stop to this before it’s too late.

She needed to talk to you. She needed to pretend she was still on your side, she had to befriend Joel somehow and warn him. She knew if she could just get him to see her properly, he would fall for her and leave you. She spent the next week trying to reach you. You were not at home. Neither was Joel. Her calls went unanswered, and messages unsent, but you hadn’t blocked her.

Where were you?

Finally after 10 days you returned her calls. You were on your honeymoon and didn’t have cell service.

What?

You and Joel eloped.

Joel was married.

To you, of all people.

And you didn’t even have the courtesy to invite her.

Obviously her usual tactics were not working.

As she hugged you with a fake congratulations, she made a new vow.

She needed to up her game.

***

WARNING: Light descriptions of Sexual Assault (On a Male Character)

Implied Drink Spiking

Some possibly inaccurate description of being drugged

Some descriptions of smut via voyeurism

You had a small gathering at a restaurant in town for your wedding and invited everyone. Everyone was so happy for you and Joel. You two had asked that in lieu of presents; everyone should donate something to the local children’s hospital where you worked. Nell had scoffed at this news. Just your MO. Saint Aria. You just had to be the one to do good. But she had to remember her end goal. She had to save Joel from you. So she smiled and clapped, along with everyone else, who had collectively decided to not engage her for long.

Every time she caught Joel alone and tried to engage him, someone conveniently needed him elsewhere, and he willingly followed. God. This guy was like a cow on a leash. No wonder it was so easy for you to trap him.

She tried to blend in, tried to catch up with the girls, as they say. But none of them wanted to linger with her. And none introduced their significant others to her. She tried to not let the fact that she was never invited to any of their weddings bother her, but it did. You were invited. You were bridesmaid, or maid of honour to quite a few of them. And she was cast out. She should’ve gotten used to it, all her friends gravitate towards you after she introduced you to them, but it still hurt. And now you had pulled the ultimate betrayal. Stealing Joel Miller from right under her. But patience, Nell. Patience. She had to play it cool, so that ultimately, people will see you for who you really were.

Her parents gave you a cheque for the hospital, and then another, just for the bride and groom. Despite the usual push and pull, they were insistent that you two accepted it, to start your life with, please, they said. Her father hugged Joel, asking him to take care of you, telling him that you were family, and now, so was he. He even danced with you after you had your father-daughter dance with your dad, your dad proudly declaring him your second father. You and Joel shared a dance, Joel holding you close, kissing you sweetly throughout.  

Mr Miller got all choked up during his speech, talking about how much he and his wife loved you, and how his late first wife would have loved you, and that no one deserved that engagement ring of hers more than you. And if you already had two father figures, he would gladly accept being the third, and that he already loved you as the daughter he never had.

Susan talked about what a sweet one you were. Ever since you were a baby. Always giving in to Nell, never wanting a fight, never in a strop – the gentlest person, the best person they all knew, a fact which was greeted with a lot of cheers and murmured agreements from everyone. Your friends gushed about you. Joel’s friends and Tommy talked about how dreamy he got when he was crushing hard on you. How happy they all were that both of you had found each other. How perfect you were for each other.

After hearing the speeches, Nell couldn’t stand it anymore. She went outside under the guise of a smoke. Tommy was there, already halfway through his own cigarette. She complained out loud about you. Why did everyone love you so much? She had the advantage on you in every way that counted. She was better than you. Much better looking, so much richer, so much more experienced in bed, as he could testify, she’s sure. She could offer everyone more than you could. And yet people were gagging for your attention and left her out like the leper. People were so stupid. So fucking stupid.

Tommy exhaled his last puff after listening to her rants, telling her that maybe she should grow up, join the real world, look at herself and think about what really mattered to people when it came to choosing friends, found family and loved ones. And then he walked back inside, leaving her there, still stewing.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? What else mattered? Stupid man. He was just bitter she was lusting after his brother instead of him. Never mind. What could she expect from a low-class man-whore like Tommy Miller?

About a week after the reception, she decided to get back into action. She had contacted a man she knew who could get her things for the right price. She went over to your place, under the guise of bringing you a wedding present, waving your concerns away with her hand as usual. Joel had gone out running, and you were mixing something in a blender, making him a protein shake for when he came back. When Joel got home, Nell excused herself.

She watched your household for several weekends, learning your routines, your ins and outs, your movements. She was discrete, making sure you couldn’t see her. She needed to be careful. She had kept up the façade of staying away from the two of you, but staying friendly and calling you as she normally did. She couldn’t afford to have you suspicious.

One Saturday, your house was a little too quiet – Joel didn’t go running that morning. She got curious and went closer to see what was going on, prepared to pretend like she had just dropped by to give you something if need be. She went snooping at the windows, and finally, when she got to the kitchen windows, she saw what was delaying his run.

You were bent over behind the kitchen island, your shirt lifted up, Joel bent over you, his sweatpants lowered to his knees, his hands on your breasts, fucking you with such fervour you were reduced to a moaning mess. He was holding you close to him, his head next to yours, telling you that you made him feel so good, that he couldn’t get enough of you, that you were the sexiest woman in the world to him, that he needed you so much, loved you so much, that he wanted to put his baby in you, his hand snaking in between your legs and you shuddered and shook so wildly, screaming his name, as he made you cum. She watched as he finished inside you, collapsing on you, before pulling you to the floor where she could no longer see you both, but she could hear you two laughing and giggling and kissing, legs entangled on the kitchen floor.

Nell couldn’t believe her eyes. How could you do that to her? How could he? She was the one who had always made the effort to get him, and there he was, fucking your brains out. Just you wait, Joel Miller, she thought, as she made her way back to her car, her heart thumping with resolve.

The next day, she waited until Joel had gone out running. She had to be precise, she had timed everything. About five minutes before he was due back, she ran to your door, screaming your name, telling you that your mom had been in an accident, but no one could reach you. You immediately panicked, grabbed your purse and left, leaving the key under the pot for Joel. He never took his keys with him when he went running. She told you she would meet you at the hospital, and pretended to get into her car, as you peeled off the drive.

She went inside with the key you left, set things up, and waited on the couch.

Joel came back shortly, walking in through the slightly opened door, calling your name, placing his phone on the mantel. He froze when he saw her, before asking her where you were. She told him you had to run out to the store really quickly, you should be back any minute. He nodded, and seeing she was just sitting there scrolling through her phone, went into the kitchen. He took the shake you had prepared and drank it thirstily in several gulps. She heard his phone vibrate; saw that it was you calling him and hid it under the cushions. He came back into the living room and told her she should go. The two of you had plans. He should probably get ready.

Nell stalled, asking him where the two of you were going, could she come along? Joel quickly said no. He made a start to walk to the front door to open it for her when he stumbled. Joel couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt weird. His eyesight got all loopy, he felt drunk, his body felt heavy, his head disorientated. Nell got up and helped him stand, he tried to push her off, but she shushed him gently, and helped him to the couch. It took a few minutes for him to still – he kept trying to stand and get away from her, but after a few minutes his breathing relaxed and he laid still on the couch, both feet splayed on the floor, his head on the backrest, his hands limp by his sides, his eyes fighting to stay open.

Nell got to work. You would be back soon, and she needed to set the scene. She took his pants off and was immediately rewarded by what she had always wanted to confirm. Hung Miller was indeed, hung. Her mouth salivated at the sight of him, even flaccid. She sat between his splayed legs and put her mouth on him. He weakly tried to push her off, but she pinned his hands to the side, cooing at him to stop fighting it. You know you want this, Joel. I know you want me. I’m going to save you from her, Joel. It’s not right. This monster cock right here shouldn’t belong to a prude like her. He kept trying to push her off, fighting the drunken feeling in his head. She continued sucking him, it took a while before he even responded, thickening slightly under her assault. There you go, she crooned at him. Just as she was about to take him in her mouth again, the door fully opened.

You were standing right there, taking in what you came home to, after successfully reaching your mom through a phone call.

You calmly told her to get off your husband and get out of your house. She stammered excuses after excuses, telling you that they hadn’t meant for you to find out like this, that she was sorry, but they were in love, and she just wanted you to be happy, so she let you have him. Please Aria, forgive me, she said through tears. Please don’t leave him. He loves you, please Aria. You asked her how long? She told you it had been going on since she came back to town, at his office while you were at work. No one else knew, she swore. Again, you calmly told her to get out, you never wanted to see her again. She nodded weakly, and left, a satisfied smile on her face.

You looked at your husband, and immediately sensed something was wrong. He wasn’t responding to you the way a husband caught with his pants down would. You slapped his face to get him to focus on you, but it didn’t work. You tried to pull him up, but he was much heavier than you, and he fell back limply onto the couch. Your wrath turned into worry in an instant.

You called 911 immediately.

***

Nell waited for the fallout. Hours, days, weeks, and then a couple months went by, but none came. She hadn’t heard anything about you and Joel divorcing. She called a few people under the pretence of catching up, but no one entertained her. Everyone claimed to be busy and had no time to catch up. Some straight up declined her calls. But she saw a bunch of them hanging out at the usual spot, and then she noticed you. You and Joel were there - his arm happily around your shoulder, the two of you merrily laughing and chatting with your friends as if nothing happened.

You two were still together? How was that possible? Why didn’t it work? What else would it take? You literally came back to her giving your husband a blowjob, and you didn’t leave him? Didn’t you have any dignity at all?

She asked her parents if they had heard anything about you and Joel, and they said no. She tried calling Tommy, but he never picked up. Your mom didn’t pick up either. She was starting to feel left out. She had to find out.

She went to the usual club to find Tommy. He was there, this time with a woman, looking all cosy and intimate. He didn’t introduce her to Nell, and when Nell introduced herself, the woman looked away and busied herself with her phone. Tommy told her he didn’t have time for her tonight, he’s with someone. Nell asked anyway, if everything was fine with you and Joel as she had ‘heard some rumours’. Tommy took the lady by the hand and left. Nell went after him, asking him questions incessantly, but he ignored her.

She chased him and the woman all the way to his car before he aggressively walked towards her and warned her to leave him and his family the fuck alone. That he was done talking to her.

She got desperate. She went over to your house the next day. She waited until Joel came back from his run. When he saw her, he warned her to stay the fuck away from him and his wife. Nell tried to tell him that she was only doing that for their benefit, that they were meant to be together, it’s not too late. When you came out, she told you that she was in love with Joel, and he with her. You should take the high road and leave, let them be happy. Joel stood in front of you and raised his voice at her.

“Leave us alone. I am not kidding Nell. I don’t have any feelings for you. You and I are not together. We have never been together. And we will never be together. You are not fooling anyone. Be thankful I don’t have enough proof to report you for what you did. Leave us the fuck alone. Or I will get the law involved.”

“Joel, I understand you need to say this in front of Aria. But Joel, you don’t understand. She’s trapping you. She manipulated you. She made you believe we were a lie. Joel, please, open your eyes. Come back to me Joel. Please.”

Joel looked at her incredulously.

“You need help, Nell. Stay away from me. Stay away from my wife. Stay away from us.”

He turned around and took you in his arms, escorting you in. She called out to him again.

“Joel, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

***

“Joel, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

Joel huffed a long, frustrated breath. You just looked resigned and tired.

“How is that possible? I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, let alone fuck you. Get help Nell, seriously.”

He took you inside and shut the door.

Fuck.

Why the fuck would she say that? She had taken it too far, right? This was going to blow in her face, wasn’t it?

Shit.

Think Nell, think. Bigger game plan.

What an ass. She told him she was pregnant, and he dismissed her? What a twat. Any normal man would panic, and this dude was just looking at her like she was crazy. And you. You would think that any normal woman would freak the fuck out if some woman was blowing your husband and claimed to have an affair with him. Suspicious, at the very least. Doubtful, perhaps. Angry, even. But you just stood there and took it. Such a pushover. You were living proof that a fancy degree didn’t mean squat. Dumb bitch.

Welp. She should give up. She really should. There was no way she could get away with this.

But then she wouldn’t get him.

And she really wanted him.

Sure, at first it was just about sampling his famously monster cock, but in her quest to seduce him since the beginning, she had seen him around you. Seen your relationship as husband and wife. Even when he was just looking at you from afar as he was working back in her house all that time ago, Nell envied the way he looked at you. It was never lust. Even back then, he never looked at you like you were a piece of meat he wanted to fuck. He looked at you like there were no other women on this planet. And then there were the ways he acted around you. How he was with you. How loving. How gentle. How romantic. How passionate. How doting. Like his life revolved around you. Even drugged, he was resisting her, loyal to you.

No one had ever looked at her the way Joel looked at you. Not even Tony.

She wanted that. She wanted someone to treat her the way he treated you. But not just any man, she wanted him.

When she got home, she laid on her bed and thought hard about her life, or the lack of one. Her parents had been nagging her to get a job or go back to school. Figure out a life for herself, they said. She didn’t understand what the big deal was. Not like they were destitute. Her spending were change found at the bottom of the couch to her dad. Now they had given her a deadline. Get a job or go back to school within three months, or they will cut her off.

Great. Now she had to go back to school and learn something. Again. Realistically, what job could she get that would fit her lifestyle? She spent hundreds on manicure alone. What minimum wage job would keep that up?

Fuck.

Maybe Tommy was right. She should grow up. Think clearly. Objectively.

Why did it bother her so much that Joel was in love with you? She wondered if she would feel like this if he had married someone else. She kept fixating on you. The fact that you got him bothered her.

What was this animosity she had with you?

For years she kept blaming it on her parents. They preferred you. You were their dream daughter. They neglected her. Prioritized you. So, naturally, she held a grudge against you.

But did they?

The truth was, she couldn’t even say that they were ever neglectful of her. Sure, they had offered you a lot of things your parents couldn’t possibly afford, but it was always after her needs were taken care of first, and you never took their offer, at least not when you started having an after-school job. You had always found your own ways to get what you needed, worked hard for everything. When you were little, you wore her hand-me-downs, played with toys she no longer wanted, read books her parents bought for her that she never bothered to read, gave in to her when she didn’t get her way. She had always been their priority. You were always second.

And yet, you were the one who helped every day when Susan suffered from her stroke. She came home for one summer where she didn’t lift a finger to help her own mother and took off without looking back, spending their money on a whim until she got kicked out of the university and had nowhere else to go. Honestly, right now? Even she could see why they saw you as a daughter. And still, they prioritized her, supported her, loved her, spent money on her, and tried to help her better herself.

She realized then what her actual problem with you was. What she really couldn’t stand about you. It was the fact that you were born lesser than her - in status, looks, background, opportunities – yet you always came out on top. In everything.

She had grown up always getting what she wanted. You had to work hard for everything you wanted. And now, what she wanted was Joel, she tried so hard to capture his attention, and couldn’t even get him to glance at her. And you got him to cater to your every need without trying.

It pissed her off.

But now, she had gone too far. You had never been unkind to her. Her friends may have left her for you, but you had always stayed.

Maybe it’s time to come clean. Accept defeat.

Sigh. So far, taking Tommy’s advice, being a grown up, a good person, sucked.

There was a knock on her door. Her parents came in when she answered. They looked dead serious. Worried, too, she sensed. As soon as her mother sat on her bed, Nell felt a prickling at the back of her neck. They told her your mom had called them. Told them about the baby. Was it true? Was she pregnant? With Joel’s baby?

This was it. Just confess Nell. No going back.

Get it over with. Just confess. And it’ll all blow over soon.

Go on, just say it.

NO!

Instead, she nodded, tears falling thickly on her cheeks.

She told them ‘everything’. How she and Joel had always wanted each other, how they carried out an affair from the moment she got back, how you had caught them at your house together, how you had poisoned him against her, and now he wouldn’t admit to the affair at all. And now she was pregnant with his baby, and he wouldn’t take responsibility and it was your fault! She knew you weren’t as perfect as everyone thought you were. You were conspiring against her all along!

Her parents listened; Susan held her until she fell asleep.

When they left the room, they had a discussion on how to handle this matter delicately.

They left her to ‘mourn and be sad’ for a few days. They came in to talk to her every day. Made sure she was alright, that she ate, drank, showered, and slept. And then they told her that they had a plan. There was no way Joel was going to be able to back out of his responsibility this way. Come on, get ready. We’re going out.

They drove her to the hospital and told her she needed to get a paternity test. Joel will join them there.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

How was she going to get out of this one?

She refused, saying that she didn’t want to see you. No, dear, Aria won’t be there. He promised. So, she went, having no other option but to obey. Joel was, indeed, there. There was no sign of you anywhere. She put on a happy face, a façade for the ‘affair’ for her parents, and went to kiss him, but he took a step back. She could see her parents’ frustrations with him. But he just looked fed up with this whole arrangement.

The doctor asked her a few questions first, reminding her that the conversation may be recorded since this was contestable in court.

(Oh, shit. This had gone too far now, just stop with the whole play, Nell. Just fucking confess while you still could!)

The doctor asked her a list of questions. When was her last period. When was the last time they had sex. And more mundane, very private questions.

She answered all of them. Joel scoffing and rolling his eyes at every single one that involved his… supposed participation.

When she laid on the bed for the ultrasound, she reached out to Joel so that he could hold her hand. She had imagined Joel holding your hand if you were doing this. She wanted that. But he stayed stock still where he was, not even looking at her. Her parents were looking at her with unreadable expressions. Joel ignored her. Her parents didn’t say anything, didn’t intervene either. Her father looked like he wanted to say something, but he decided not to.

When the doctor conducted the ultrasound, of course, she found nothing.

She was not pregnant.

Was never pregnant.

Joel left the room immediately, after releasing a very long breath of annoyance.

When the doctor explained all this to her, Nell cried. She was hysterical. She cried so much her parents came over to console her.

Might as well commit to the bit now, she thought.

“Did I imagine it all? Oh God, what have I done? I have to find Aria and Joel. I have to apologize to them!”

She dramatically ran down the hall, calling for Joel. When she saw him, she told him she was sorry, she didn’t know what was happening to her. Please forgive me Joel. Please.

When Joel turned, Nell saw that you were there in his arms. You looked at her with tears in your eyes. You didn’t seem angry, but you had a look of… pity? She couldn’t stand it.

She saw red again.

You were the reason she had to stoop this low. She lunged forward to scratch your face, but security caught her by the waist and pulled her back. Joel immediately got you out of there, making sure she couldn’t get to you.

The next thing she knew, she was restrained, and then everything went black.

***

Susan and your mom went to visit Nell at the place where she was ‘resting’, at least, that was what her family told everyone. Your mom gave her flowers from you, telling her that you couldn’t make it, you were busy at work. But you did say hi and hoped that she was doing better.

Nell smiled and took the flowers from you. She was feeling much better, she told the two mothers. These past few months had helped a lot. She felt rested, clear, happy. She had worked hard at recovery. She was never diagnosed with anything, or at least she was never told that she suffered from anything, the doctors thought she just needed rest. A few months away from stress, just until her delusions went away.

The delusions, she had admitted to her therapist, that caused her to spiral and conjured an entire affair that never happened. That could not have possibly happened since Joel didn’t have an office where this affair had supposedly taken place at, since Joel was out of town the whole time the ‘pregnancy’ was supposedly conceived, working on a project in the next state over. The delusions that could have destroyed her best friend’s marriage. That could have torn families apart. She cried in therapy when she talked about it. She felt so guilty. How could she had spiralled that badly? Was she so hung up on a man who never paid her any attention? To the point of sexually assaulting him? What was wrong with her? She was so thankful that you and Joel decided not to press charges. So thankful that her parents saw through the whole thing and got her help.

She made so much progress. She slept better, ate better, took time to meditate, and really, really found herself, she told the therapist. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to rejoin society, but she felt as if she would do so much better than before. She finally saw the errors of her ways, and understood, for once in her life, why people were so drawn to you. She should be more like you. You were selfless, that’s why people loved you. You had always dedicated your life to serve others. Even chose a line of work that would make sick children feel better. What could be more noble? She was even thinking of going back to school, locally, of course, so she could be close to her parents.

She told Susan and your mom that she would be released soon, but if it’s alright with her parents, she would take it easy for a while, before looking into courses she could take at the local university. One step at a time.

Both ladies heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that she was doing better.

***

When Nell finally went home a couple of months later, she had not seen you or Joel in eight months. When she got home, she told you, via text, that she wasn’t quite ready to face you, the embarrassment was too great. You understood. The two of you spent a couple of weeks just texting, like old times, before moving on to calls, and eventually, FaceTime.

The first time you FaceTime with her, she was nervous. She didn’t know how forgiving you were, just the thought of seeing your face mortified her. But you were beyond understanding, seemingly just happy to see your friend well again. Joel never joined your sessions, though. He wasn’t ready to face her, and to be frank, he wasn’t quite as trusting as you, believing that you should be careful with her, that he had an unease at the pit of his stomach about her. That you were too nice, too gullible. He just didn’t trust her at all. You understood, you would feel like that too, if you were him, after what she had done to him. So you and Nell chatted on FaceTime alone. She said you looked different – you were glowing. You brushed it off, saying she was seeing her own reflection on the phone, the two of you giggling like schoolgirls again. It was nice to get your old friend back, newly improved, in fact. She seemed lighter, merrier. You were proud of her for getting help.

After two months of being home, Nell said she was finally ready to meet with you. In public, of course. The two of you had agreed to meet at a café you frequented. When she arrived, you were already there. You looked radiant.

And very pregnant. 

Nell hugged you, disbelief in her eyes. You were just entering your eighth month and made fun of your waddling as you sat back down. You wanted to surprise her, you said. She seemed genuinely happy for you. Was it a boy or girl? Have you picked a name? When were you due? She was excited when you referred to her as Auntie Nell, touched that you were even considering having her in your baby’s life after everything she had done to you.

After the initial glow of baby talk had passed, Nell took your hand in hers, and looked you in the eyes. She was teary, looking so apologetic, and begged you for forgiveness. She didn’t know what came over her. I am so sorry, Aria. Please, sister, forgive me. You hugged her tight, telling her it’s okay. It’s all in the past. Let’s move forward, yeah? When Nell finally let go of you, her face was wet with tears, but she felt a thousand times lighter.

The two of you chatted a bit more, catching up on gossip, and the ongoings in the town. Finally, Joel’s truck pulled up. Nell froze. Joel got out to help you up and get into the truck. Nell kept her distance after giving you one last hug and told Joel how sorry she was about everything. She would take it all back if she could. She knew he might never forgive her, ever, but hoped that one day he would find it in his heart to forgive her. Joel nodded curtly, before he helped you into the truck, gave you a quick kiss, and ran around to the driver’s side.

***

About two weeks before your due date, you were advised to stay home.  You had gotten so big everything was swollen, and moving became a challenge. You told Nell this over the phone as you sat on your couch trying to decide what movie to watch, and how bored you were just sitting at home doing nothing. You couldn’t even clean – bending over became almost impossible without the possibility of toppling over. After you hung up, you started a movie, and received a text from Nell, asking if she and her mother could come over and keep you company – maybe watch the movie with you? Bring you Chinese food? They could bring their maid over; help you clean a bit?

You immediately said yes, your hunger and exasperation at your messy house taking over.

When she knocked on the door, you answered after what felt like five minutes, getting up from the couch unassisted had become some CrossFit challenge with how big you had gotten. Nell came in, bags of Chinese take-out in her hands, marveling at how much baby stuff was in your living room. So many plushies and teddy bears and half made furniture, waiting for Joel to get home to finish assembling. You asked her where Susan was. You thought she was coming? Ah, she’s parking the car, she said.

You leaned out the door to greet her, but Nell’s car was right there in your driveway, no Susan anywhere.

Something sharp pricked you in the neck.

And a pair of hands caught you as you lost consciousness.

***

WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOODY ATTACK

Nell sat in the defendant’s chair in the large courtroom, waiting for the jury to return. It had been a long few months for her. She couldn’t believe she was here. The nerve of some people. What was so wrong with wanting something, or in her case, someone? Her dumbass of a lawyer didn’t even try. She wanted to take the deal, for crying out loud. Screw the evidence. She was going to fight this. The juries will see she was in the right.

She had waited until you were awake again. She tied you up so you wouldn’t struggle. She needed to tell you she won, after all. Nice guys finish last, all that. She needed the satisfaction. She couldn’t believe how gullible you were. To trust her again after everything. Such a stupid bitch. Who would do that? Well, you would, evidently.

You kept asking her if she had taken her medication that day. That she was not thinking straight. She laughed at the idea that you were so straightlaced that you didn’t even know about tonguing your meds. How did you ever satisfy Joel, she had asked, if you didn’t even know what a tongue could do? He doesn’t deserve you, you prude. And what made you think she needed medications in the first place? She faked the whole delusions thing, you idiot. She didn’t spend years at acting school for nothing. She may have flunked out, but she did learn some useful skills. Her parents had started threatening to cut her off if she didn’t get a job soon, and she wanted Joel. Having delusional thoughts seemed the perfect opportunity to get out of adult responsibilities, and simultaneously, break your joke of a marriage up. That place her parents had sent her to was basically a luxurious five-star spa, and she got to lounge about for eight months at the price of spouting bullshit her therapists wanted to hear every couple of days.

You asked her why. What had you ever done to her to merit this? Because you always needed to be better than her. Even in infancy, you started walking before she did, even though she was born two whole weeks before you. You started talking first. You got better grades than her. Did better at piano than her. Got the best parts in school plays than her. You were liked better than her. Even her parents thought of you as the better daughter, even though they were not your real parents. All her friends liked you better than her. Her boyfriends liked you more than her. Men in general wanted you more than her. You got into a better programme than her in college, a programme that her parents were so proud of, they kept telling everyone about it, and yet her own accomplishments went unnoticed. And your biggest mistake of all? You let Joel Miller fall in love with you. You married him. Got pregnant with his baby. It should’ve been her. She deserved it, not you. She could offer him so much more than you could.

But it had become quite clear that he was besotted with you, and as long as you were around, he was never going to get over you.

So, you needed to go.

You begged her not to harm your baby. Please, don’t do anything to my baby. Please, Nell.

Oh you silly bitch, she would never do anything to Joel Miller’s baby. She was going to be there for him and raise the baby with him. It’s you that’s in her way, not your baby.

And with that, she jabbed you with another dose of sedative. She put gloves on and began to cut your baby out of your stomach.

She didn’t anticipate the problems she would face. She had watched so many videos on YouTube, but still, it took forever to cut you open. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to hurt the baby. She needed the baby alive, sure that Joel would mourn too long if he lost you both. The baby was the excuse she needed to spend time with him, to help him. After what felt like hours, she managed to cut you open.

She didn’t anticipate how much blood would be involved. But she persevered. She cut the layers that follow, and finally, after some struggles with an obscene amount of fluid, managed to get your baby out. It’s a girl. She was so happy. She pictured herself and Joel raising this little girl together, happiness finally within reach.

But the baby wasn’t crying. Wasn’t breathing. She panicked. If this baby died, Joel would never recover from your death. She needed this baby alive. Fuck. She had to call 911. But she couldn’t risk you being rescued. It was vital that you must die. She checked where she thought your pulse would be. She couldn’t really feel anything, couldn’t hear your heartbeat either. She washed her hands and got rid of the gloves and plastic apron she was wearing. She took a deep breath and dialled 911.

She gave the performance of a lifetime. She had just walked in to find you bleeding on the floor, your baby cut out of you. Please send help. She couldn’t find a pulse. Oh my God please don’t let my sister die. Please God. Her baby is not breathing, please hurry. She sobbed her way through the call, all the way until the paramedics and the police arrived minutes later. They cut the umbilical cord and cleared your baby’s airway, and after a while, she cried. You were still breathing, albeit very slowly. You had lost a lot of blood.

Nell panicked. You couldn’t still be alive. But she couldn’t do anything. She was surrounded by the police and paramedics. As they were loading you into the ambulance, a panicked Joel and Tommy arrived. Joel said something to Tommy, and Tommy went right inside. Joel climbed into the ambulance and off it went at full speed. She was stuck there, having to give her statement to the police. She was still keeping up with her acting skills, the grieving best friend who was so traumatized she could hardly speak. Someone must have attacked you, and her arrival must have spooked them away. She pleaded with them to let her go to the hospital to be with you. They ignored her pleas. She needed to answer more questions.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Tommy speak to an officer. He brought the officer inside, and they came back out, a plastic evidence bag with a teddy bear in it in the officer’s hand.

She was brought to the station and placed in an interrogation room. She was there for hours. They kept asking her to repeat her version of events again and again. She was exhausted. She later learnt that she was there for eight hours. When she was finally let out, she saw Tommy giving his statement to an officer, along with some of your friends. But they weren’t held in an interrogation room. No one would tell her anything about you or your baby.

She rushed to the hospital, keeping up the appearance of being the worried best friend. There were police officers outside your room. They wouldn’t let her in. She saw a grief-stricken Joel sitting by your bed, his eyes red, his hair dishevelled, you unconscious still, your hand in his. He kept kissing your hand and stroking your head, worry and love written all over his very tired face. She imagined him looking at her with such love one day once you passed.

She went to the nursery and found your parents and Joel’s father and stepmother inside, holding your baby. When they left the room, they saw her, but walked away. Police officers guarded the nursery as well, and wouldn’t let her in. She followed the path your parents and Joel’s took and saw them hugging her parents. They looked at her with disappointment on their faces, and before she knew it, cuffs were slapped on her wrists, and she was arrested for attempted murder in the first degree.

The three sets of parents didn’t do anything to stop the officers, even her own. She was brought back to the interrogation room. She was protesting the whole way, saying that she needed to be with you. She didn’t understand why they arrested her. What evidence did they have to treat you this way?

An officer placed an iPad on the table, and pressed play.

It was a snippet of a video, with audio. All caught on the nanny cam that Joel had installed in a Teddy Bear and placed on the mantel. There she was, clear as day, cutting your stomach open.

The officer stopped the video, told her that she’d better pray the charges doesn’t escalate to murder in the first degree, and walked out.

The trial only took two days. Joel sat on the prosecution side, your parents, his parents, Tommy and your friends surrounding him. Even her own parents were sitting with him. They had paid for the best lawyer they could find to help the DA prosecute their own daughter. They didn’t even bother getting her one. She had to make do with the stupid lawyer that was provided by the county.

The DA offered a plea deal. Ten years in prison if she pleaded guilty. She declined. Her dumbass lawyer tried to get her to take the deal. No! Why would she? When had fighting for what’s rightfully yours a crime? And then, just her luck, the dumbass botched every single argument and defence she had.

You were a conniving bitch who stole the love of her life right from under her. You manipulated him into hating her. You turned everyone against her. She was emotionally driven to get back at you. She was a victim of your bullying. She snapped.

Everyone who was called to the stand disputed this – even Joel, even her own parents. Everyone testified that you were the sweetest person they knew. That Joel was in love with you since high school. Even his ex-girlfriend who he was dating at the time sent a statement to that fact. She only had high praise for you. They all recalled how she had shamelessly flirted with Joel since forever, only to be rebuffed by him. Even the fact that she had drugged him and assaulted him came to light. You had taken him to the hospital right after, and he tested positive for Rohypnol. The only reason they didn’t press charges was because they didn’t have proof that she was the one who laced his protein shake. And that was why Joel had installed the Nanny Cam when you started being friendly with her again.

She’s mentally unstable – she did suffer from delusions. She was delusional. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was even treated for it. It wasn’t her fault. Seeing you being pregnant with the child of the man she loved triggered her.

Except, the Nanny Cam footage caught her admitting to knowing what she was doing all along. That she was never delusional. That she knowingly did what she did to steal him from you, and to get out of having to work for a living.

And then there was all the forensic evidence – Nell realized there and then that just because one watched a lot of CSI, didn’t mean one could get away with attempted murder.

Of course, the most damning of all, was your testimony. You stared her straight in the eyes as you told the court what had happened. No love left in your eyes for her.

Guilty.

She was sentenced to 21 years in a prison at the other end of the country. Enough time for you, Joel and Sarah to disappear that she couldn’t find you when she did taste freedom again.

As they took her away, Nell got weak in the knees, begging you to forgive her. You turned around and walked out hand in hand with Joel and the rest of your family, never wanting to see her again.

***

You sat between Joel’s legs, his arms wrapped tight around you, his chin on your shoulder as the two of you watched Sarah hold Ellie’s hand while they searched for shells along the beach behind your new home. You had decided to move as far away as you can from your hometown. All three sets of parents came along with you, buying houses a couple streets over to be close to the kids, having retired and sold their businesses. Tommy met your new colleague Maria, and very quickly moved in with her. He proposed after only a few months. Joel and Tommy started their own woodworking company, not using the Miller name in case Nell got out and looked for you. You got a job at a local pharmaceutical company, doing what you did back in your hometown for better money. You couldn’t risk working at a hospital again for obvious reasons. No one wanted to stay in that town after what happened. A fresh start. For everyone.

It took a lot of therapy for you and Joel to get here. A lot of nightmares. But you got through it all. You couldn’t bring yourself to get pregnant again after what happened, so you and Joel adopted Ellie a few months ago. Sarah was flourishing and was so in love with her little sister. Joel had been your rock through all of this, despite what Nell did to him. He told you that he thanked God every day that he didn’t remember what happened, although it took a while for him to get back to his old self after. These days, he was still as protective as ever, working hard to provide for you and family, coming home to you and his girls every day with a huge smile on his face. He had become a bit grumpy around your new friends, wary of everyone now, but you loved him for it. He held you tight at night and had a hand on you at all times whenever you two would go out, even if he had one of the kids in his hands. Your nightmares were of being attacked, while his was of losing you. Those few days you were unconscious were the worst days of his life, and he was sure that he wouldn’t survive if he ever lost you.

Nell’s parents cut her off for good. They willed all their money to charity and your children, their grandchildren, as far as they were concerned. You had always been more of a daughter to them than Nell ever was, you cared for them when they needed you, while she was off galivanting in college.

She wrote to you every day for a whole year before you instructed the post office to return any letters from her address. You never read any of her letters. To your knowledge, no one had ever gone to visit her, using distance as an excuse, not that anyone would, even if she was nearby.

As far as you and Joel were concerned, you lives began after the incident. Anything before that was not worth mulling over. This, right here, the four you, and the family you have around you, were all that mattered. If the two of you could get through what Nell put you through, you could go through anything. Together.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 46

Part 1 Part 45

Hopper’s idling by the trailer when Steve and Eddie exit on the way to school the next morning. Eddie’s forehead immediately breaks out in anxiety-sweats. He stumbles back a step on instinct, arm up to waylay Steve. Nothing good ever came from the Chief of Police loitering in front of a drug dealer’s trailer. 

Hopper cranks his window down, leaning out enough to stick his head partially out, and shouts over at them, “you cleared to go to school already, Harrington?” 

Eddie drops his arm – threat categorized, acknowledged, and discarded. Steve steps over the threshold and down the front steps, each foot placed carefully, lest he stumble in front of Hopper. 

“It’s fine,” Steve says, like he always does.

“Your doctor say that?”

Steve shifts his eyes toward Eddie, like he’s begging for help. Eddie clears his throat, pointedly not curling his shoulders in when Hopper shifts his glare over to him. “He went yesterday,” he calls over, like a chump. Because what his majesty wants, Eddie will provide.

Hopper raises his eyebrows, letting them stew in the silence as he keeps his eyes trained on Eddie. Weakest link sighted. And just like every time he finds himself in this standoff with the bane of his existence, he folds. “He’s not supposed to go back until Monday!”

“Munson!” Steve grouses. Eddie’s guts churn at being last-named again.

“But” Eddie starts, waving his hand in Steve’s face like that’ll buy him a few more seconds of grace. “You gotta let him go, Hopper.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he grouses, still glaring into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie fidgets, hoping Steve won’t be too pissed off. “Harrington here’s a flight risk,” he says, patting his head lightly, like a dog who’s just performed a marvelous trick. “You don’t give him something to do? We might never see him again.”

Steve scoffs, but notably doesn’t pull away from Eddie’s hand or refute his point. 

Hopper continues glaring at both of them before sighing out like a beleaguered dog and rolls up his window. He doesn’t drive away. “Is that–” Steve starts, squinting at Hopper through his now-closed window. “Is that permission?”

“We don’t beg for permission, Stevie.” Eddie trails his hand through Steve’s peach-fuzz hair before skipping over to where his van’s parked, knowing without looking that Steve’s following him. He slides into the driver’s seat, waits for Steve to slide in as well before turning the key in the ignition. “We don’t even ask for forgiveness.”

He smiles over at Steve, cheeks hurting from the force of it. He feels like he’s just taken three shots of espresso, back to back to back. Steve smiles over at him, small but real, eyes shining in the morning sun. His hair glows golden in the sunlight, and his skin, still slightly sallow, is flushed pink in the cheeks. 

“We don’t?” Steve asks quietly. He sounds excited. Like a kid told he’d get to open his birthday presents early. 

Eddie’s endeared, any reluctance drained out of him around the second time Steve Harrington had saved his life. “Naw.” He reaches over, patting Steve’s knee, not letting his fingers linger like they want to. He cranks the engine, Black Sabbath booming from the speakers until Steve turns it down a few notches. “That’s for squares. And you, Steve Harrington, are a certified badass.”

Steve’s smiling out the window when Eddie glances over, watching trailers pass by. Electric Funeral turns over to War Pigs. Eddie sings along quietly as Steve bops his head along to a beat he doesn’t even know.

Hopper follows them all the way to school, his truck idling at the curb until Eddie pulls into a spot and takes out the key. Neither of them mention anything.

School passes in a mindless haze. Eddie listens to lectures on calculus and geography and the themes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, lets it all fly over his head. Not even in one ear and out the other – that implies it went into his brain at all.

Jeff gives him dirty looks throughout calc, like he can tell Eddie’s checked out past the point of return and is feeling a sense of paternal disappointment over his lack of work ethic. 

Eddie’d checked out long before Demogorgon’s and Demon Worlds made an appearance in his life. Now, class feels like biding time until he can get Steve back in his sights. Graduating feels like another step away from Harrington that he doesn’t want to take.

So he sits and stews and ignores Jeff’s disappointed eyes, and regrets that Steve’s a year below him and not smart enough to pass calc either.

Seeing him walk into lunch is a religious experience. Eddie sighs into his suspicious casserole, staring at Steve with reverence. He’s talking to Barb quietly, standing beside her in the lunch line. 

Steve laughs at something she says, and Eddie swears he can almost hear it across the cacophony of the lunchroom rush. 

“Dude,” Gareth says from beside him.

Eddie jumps, whipping his head over to where Gareth had snuck up on him. “When did you get here?” he hisses, narrowing his eyes.

Gareth stares back, deadpan. Eddie misses when his little sheep were at least a little bit afraid of him. Honestly, the gall. “I was here before you sat down.”

Ah, well. Eddie hunches, looking around the table that’s seemingly filled in around him. “So?”

Gareth leans closer, keeping his voice lowered. “Are you, like in love with Harrington?” Gareth asks, voice quiet enough for discretion even as it lentils up harshly at the end. 

“No, shut up!” Eddie hisses back, but something restless and wanting unfurls as the fishhook in his ribs slackens with Steve’s approach. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“—could help you,” Barb is saying, inexplicably sitting at the wrong freaks and geeks table again. Clearly, there’s still trouble in paradise. “I’m free Thursday’s after school.”

Steve slides in next to Eddie, matching suspect casserole to Eddie’s own. He doesn’t look away from his conversation from Barb, but he slides his knee into Eddie’s, easy like breathing. Even easier, with Steve’s track record of not doing that.

“Really?” Steve asks, leaning toward her over the table. 

Barb shrugs, nonchalantly, pulling that same bagged sandwich from her bag to munch on. “Sure, why not?”

She says it like it’s nothing, but Steve exhales like the world just stopped ending. “Thanks,” he sighs. “I’m just so behind, and my Dad–” he cuts off, shoves a forkful of slop in his mouth like that’s the reason for the pause. “I just don’t want to be held back.”

Jeff, the traitor, looks over to Barbara and unhelpfully contributes, “are you guys planning a study group?” he asks, continuing before she has a chance, “because this one could use a little of that.”

Eddie doesn’t let anyone else get in a word. “I can’t Jeffery,” Eddie sneers. “Thursday is Hellfire.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows like he’s thinking deeply, starts, “we could maybe do it on Wed—”

“That’s fine!” Eddie says. “I’m doing fine!”

He glares around at the table, daring anyone to say anything. Jeff scoffs, and Steve still looks worried, but no one says anything. Study group is born, and Eddie’s plans are finalized: his graduating class will be moving on without him.

He only hopes Wayne understands. 

Part 47

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

[kathlare]

crossroads of the past

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set amidst the vibrant energy of race day in Austin, the chapter explores the internal struggles of Lando Norris as he wrestles with unresolved emotions and the weight of an unexpected upcoming reunion.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

October 22nd, 2023 - Austin, TX

The dry Texas heat hung over the Circuit of the Americas like a heavy blanket, even in the morning. Lando leaned against the side of the flatbed truck, the one they'd all pile into for the driver parade. Around him, engines roared faintly in the background, and the buzz of fans filtered through the paddock. The energy of race day always had a distinct pulse to it, but today, his mind felt... elsewhere.

—This fucking heat, man,— Charles muttered, running a hand through his damp hair as he leaned against the same truck. —Why does it always feel like we're about to melt here?—

Lando chuckled, dragging a hand through his own hair. —At least it's not humid. Could be worse.— His tone was light, but his head was far from the conversation.

The group of drivers waited together, some talking animatedly while others scrolled on their phones or sipped water. Checo, standing with his arms crossed and a small grin on his face, looked particularly content.

—What’s with the smile, mate?— George asked, his British accent cutting through the air as he nudged Checo lightly. —Did you finally bribe Christian to let you swap cars with Max?—

The group laughed, but Checo waved a hand dismissively. —No, no. Just excited for next week.—

—Ah, Mexico,— Alex chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. —Always such a good crowd there. They love you, don’t they?—

Checo smiled proudly, his chest puffing slightly. —Of course. It’s always special to race at home. My family will all be there, Stella too, and her side of the family is coming as well.—

At this, Lando’s ears perked up. His grip on the railing of the truck tightened slightly, though he kept his face neutral.

—Amelie’s coming too, I imagine?— Charles asked casually, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Checo nodded, not noticing the way Lando stiffened beside him. —Yeah, of course. She wouldn’t miss it. She’s been busy with projects this year, but family’s family. She’ll be there.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, like the heat of the Texan sun had turned inward and was pressing against his ribs. He turned his gaze to the horizon, pretending to focus on the distant grandstands, but his mind was already racing. Amelie. He hadn’t seen her since July at Penelope’s birthday party, and even then, they hadn’t exchanged more than a stilted greeting.

It was hard not to let her name pull him under. Amelie. A name he’d tried to push out of his head more times than he could count, only for it to find its way back like a stubborn echo. Every time he thought of her, it was like opening an old wound—one that never quite healed, no matter how much time had passed.

Lando swallowed, forcing himself to stay rooted in the present. But Checo’s words had stirred something in him, a restless energy he hadn’t expected. Next week in Mexico. She’d be there.

For a moment, the noise around him seemed to fade. Lando stared ahead, his jaw tightening. He tried to remind himself how things had been left between them: messy, unresolved, and painful. Yet, even with all the bitter memories, all the fights and misunderstandings, there was a spark of something else—a longing that he couldn’t quite shake.

—You alright there, mate?— George’s voice snapped him back to the present. Lando blinked, realizing he’d been gripping the edge of the truck a little too tightly.

—Yeah, yeah,— he said quickly, forcing a grin. —Just zoned out. Heat’s getting to me.—

George raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Around them, the conversation shifted to strategy, tires, and turn specifics. But Lando’s mind was stuck on Checo’s words. Family’s family. She’ll be there.

He didn’t need a reminder of how close Amelie was to Checo’s family—or to her sister Stella, who had practically become his surrogate big sister during his early F1 years. For better or worse, their paths were always intertwined, even if he tried to avoid it. And now, he’d have to see her again in Mexico.

The last time they’d spoken properly felt like a lifetime ago. It was May 2021, right before everything crumbled between them. She was busy filming Wicked, her star rising higher than ever, while he was in the thick of the F1 season. At the time, it felt like their lives were moving in completely different directions, and Lando had convinced himself that walking away was the best choice. He’d even told himself it was mutual—she was too busy, he was too busy—but deep down, he knew better. He’d hurt her. And in the process, he’d hurt himself too.

And then there was Penelope’s birthday in July. That fleeting moment when they crossed paths again, and all he could manage was a pathetic, awkward “hi.” She hadn’t looked angry, but she hadn’t looked happy to see him either. Just indifferent. And somehow, that hurt more than anything.

—You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?— Charles’ voice cut through his thoughts, quiet enough that only Lando could hear.

Lando turned sharply, his face flushing. —What? No. Who?—

Charles gave him a knowing look, leaning closer so the others wouldn’t hear. —Amelie. Don’t bullshit me, mate. You’ve had that same look on your face since Checo brought her up.—

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. —Fuck off, Charles.—

—Relax,— Charles said with a smirk. —I’m just saying, maybe you should talk to her. It’s been what, two years? You can’t avoid her forever.—

—We don’t talk for a reason,— Lando muttered, his voice low. —And it’s not exactly the kind of thing you just... fix overnight.—

Charles shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the truck. —Maybe. But if you’re still thinking about her this much, maybe it’s worth trying. You’re not the same guy you were two years ago. At least, I hope not.—

Lando didn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t the same guy he’d been in 2021. Or at least, he hoped he wasn’t. Back then, he’d been impulsive, selfish, and too wrapped up in his own insecurities to realize what he had until it was gone. Now, two years later, he’d like to think he’d grown up—at least a little.

But would Amelie see that? Would she even care?

—Alright, lads, time to load up!— one of the organizers called, gesturing for the drivers to climb onto the truck.

As they moved into position, Lando’s thoughts were still spinning. Next week, he’d see her again. He didn’t know how, or when, or what he’d even say to her, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

This was his chance. His chance to prove to her—and to himself—that he’d changed. That he could be the guy she needed, the guy she deserved.

And maybe, just maybe, he could fix what he’d broken.

[hannahssimblr]

I shoulder through the front doors into the fresh spring air, still a little breathless with adrenaline, to where Michelle is waiting for me. She looks unhappy. 

“How did it go?” I say. 

“Oh, awful, they were like robots, so intimidating. I didn’t know what they thought of my work, you know? I really thought I’d start crying at one point.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and that woman was so cold. She was pulling all of these faces at my self portraits and saying they were naive.”

“Oh, God,” In an attempt at reassurance I start rubbing her arm, “I’m sure they liked plenty things about your work.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I sensed they hated all of it.”

“They couldn’t have, it’s probably just your perception, they… I bet they’re harsh to everyone, you know? They probably don’t want to get anyone's hopes up with there being limited places and all…”

She looks at me, “Was yours bad too?”

“Awful,” I say without missing a beat, “Same as you, they gave me nothing. It was hard to tell what they really thought of my work, but they didn’t seem overjoyed by any of it to be honest.”

“Oh,” her shoulders relax, “well if they were like that with you then they must be just playing hard ball.”

“I think so.”

“What if we don’t get in?”

“Well fuck ‘em,” I grin, “We don’t need them. NCAD? Who cares, right? It’s not exactly at the top of our list.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Something else will work out, right?”

“Of course it will! C’mon, let’s just grab a coffee and chill out,” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk her around the corner to where I parked the car. 

The car, the brand new, shiny, blue Volkswagen Polo that my parents got me for my eighteenth birthday, is gleaming under the afternoon sun, one tyre wedged awkwardly against the kerb because I haven’t yet mastered the art of parallel parking when there are two other impatient drivers beeping their horns at me and gesticulating wildly out their windows. 

“He just got his fucking licence, you spas!” Michelle screamed at them from the passenger window as I manoeuvred myself into a gap big enough to house an articulated truck but somehow felt the width of a water closet as soon as I tried to fit my 1.0 litre hatchback into it. I could have told her that firing middle fingers at other drivers left and right wasn’t really doing much to diffuse the situation, but it seemed she was reaching some sort of catharsis from it. She likes that. Screaming, I mean.

This car has been a point of contention, not because I can’t park it well, but because it was an extravagance I neither needed nor desired. “We live in the city,” I protested when my parents handed me the keys, “I can just take the bus.” But they had this idea that I might like to drive it into school and be the envy of all the other students, poverty stricken losers without parents who can buy them vehicles worth half the average national salary. I told them I can just walk like always, and they didn’t like that. 

“This is a good present,” said my dad, as though insisting could make it so, “You can drive all over, you won’t have to rely on public transport any more.”

“Did I say I didn’t like public transport?”

“Well, you could get mugged on the bus, someone could pull out a knife and take your phone and all of your money! That kind of thing is happening all over the city lately.”

I showed him my Nokia from 2004 and asked him what kind of person might like to risk prison for it, but he didn’t appreciate that, and it just escalated the argument further. 

“I’m not going to even live in Ireland in a year, not if I can help it!” I cried with exasperation, after a further ten minutes of his dramatics, “What’s the point?”

“Sell it then!” he bellowed back, “I don’t care what you do! It’s yours!”

“I just don’t need it! It’s too much. You can use that money for something better.”

“Money? Money is not an issue.”

“Well that car will be wasted just sitting in the driveway.”

“You’ll figure out what to use it for.”

And I did. I still walk to school, I still take the bus into town most days (when I’m not hauling two A1 portfolio cases along with me), but sometimes, late at night Michelle and I drive up and down the coast. We get ice cream at the drive through, we talk, but mostly I park it in the darkest corner of some car park, sea facing for maximum romance, and we fuck in the passenger seat. Not that I’ve kept track of it by any means, but I’m almost certain I have spent more time having sex in my shiny, blue, Volkswagen Polo than actually driving it. I’m sure it wasn’t Christopher’s intention for it, and it might affect the resale value, but the car has become a haven of sorts, a place where we can go to be alone, at a safe distance from my nosy sister, from Michelle’s anxious father, and perhaps most vitally, from Jen, who has never quite stopped being weirded out by our relationship, even with nine full months to get used to it.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL

Part 4.

Avengers x fem!reader

Words: 1333

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Part 3

Main Masterlist

“There, that’s the truck from the lab. Right above you, Cap. By the bridge, it’s them. Got three with the cradle. I can take out the driver.” Clint was ready to shoot the truck but Steve disagree. “Negative. The truck crash, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.” He jumps on the truck to get its attention.

Well, he did get its attention and it pissed. “No, no, no. Leave me alone!” Ultron shoot the truck door almost hit Steve. “Well, he is really unhappy! I’m trying to keep it that way!” Steve shouted while hanging on the broken door.

“You’re not a match for him, Cap.” Clint stated. “Thanks Barton.” Steve muttered.

Natasha sees the situation from their jet. “He needs help.” “I guess you wanna unpack your birthday present.” Clint told her to go behind the jet and wait for his queue. She pressed the button for the metal box and saw an electric Harley Davidson and mutter to herself. “That’s a birthday present.” She hops on the bike and waiting for Clint’s to open the bay. “We got a window. In 3,2, give him hell.”

The fights between them and the robots can take too much time and damaged. Natasha make other plans to their original plan of taking the cradle safely because it’s not working out so safe. “This isn’t going nowhere. Clint, can you draw the guards out?”

Clint shooting at Ulron in front of Steve trying to lure the minions out. “Let’s find out.” Three of the guard out and the truck is empty.

“Cap, keep him occupied. I’m going in!” Natasha drop her bike and jump into the truck.

Steve let out an exhausting breath. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Meanwhile at the tower, you walk on Maria and Fury’s discussion. “How’s everything? Did they get him?” Maria and Fury acknowledge your present and she pull a chair for you. “You should be on bed.” You just sat slowly on it. “Nah, I’ve been worse. This is nothing.”

Maria rolling her eyes at you. “You’ve been dead for 6 minutes until Tony change your device. What are worse than that?” You don’t have answer for that and Fury coming at you too. “And when are you planning on telling us? Next Christmas?” “I don’t even ask for it and I like to keep it shut. It’s not something to be proud of.” He huffs, “Once this is over, you’re going to see a doctor.” “Why everybody keeps telling me to find a doctor? I’ve been fine all this time. I’m here not to be taking care of. I’m here because the world is at stake and I’m here to help. Doing something, at least.”

“Proof that. Until then, you’re off the mission. Agent Hill, follow me to pick up our old stuff back.” Fury order. “Can I tag along?” Maria turns to you. “We’ll be back. Why don’t you help us monitoring them for us? Use this for contact and maybe help Stark and Banner. But please, for the love of God, don’t ever piss him off.” She walks out of the room, following Fury.

Bruce notice you’re walking towards them. “How’s your feeling?” “Just another day at the office. Still getting the hang of it.”

Tony and Bruce watched and heard some of your conversation earlier. “Gotta admit. I adore your spirit.” Tony expressed. “I never thank you, to both of you yet. Thank you, for saving my life.” Bruce smiling softly and nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you kidding? We’re a team. We’re the Avengers. Once you step a foot in this building, you’re the Avengers. We help each other. Well, maybe some of us being a pain in ass but yeah, you’re one of us now. Welcome to the club kid.” Tony reasoned it for you and your eyes lit up on them. “Really? You mean that? Am I, an Avengers?” Tony looking at Bruce while he continues working on his computer. “Bruce. Back me up here.” “I don’t see why not. You’re young and we’re all above 30. We can use a fresh blood.” “Legacy. Thanks Shrek.” Tony responded and you let out a chuckle “I guess you’re the one being the pain in ass.” “Everyone asses” Bruce nod down and we’ll continue our work.

While trying to crack the code for that cradle, Natasha feels the truck lifting. “The package just air borne. I have a clean shot.” Clint tell them on the comm. “Negative. I am still in the truck.” she needs to think fast.

“What the hell did you...” Natasha cut his sentences while cutting the rope that tied to the cradle. “Just be ready. I’m sending the package to you.”

Clint ready on his position. “How do you want me to take it?”

“Uhhh… You might wish you didn’t ask that.”

Wanda fly in the train to help Steve and front the Ultron. “Please. You don’t have to do that.” Somehow, Ultron is kinda sound scared and he fly out the train. “Surveillance in our path. Can you stop this train?” Steve ordered and both of them do their best to stop the train and people around it.

Once the cradle touches the Quinn jet floor, Ultron manage to snatch Natasha’s leg and take her with him. “Nat!” Clint saw the incident but he can’t do anything to help her while piloting the jet. “Cap, did you see Nat?”

“If you have the cradle, take it to Stark!” Steve ordered.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?!” Asking again for confirmation.

“Go!” Steve shout.

Wanda telling Steve about what Ultron’s plan. “I read him. Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. We have to move fast.”

He disappointed and fly that jet back to the tower and leave his friend behind. “Damn it!” He contact the tower when he’s close for them to prepare and inform about their current situation. “Quinn jet to tower. Quinn jet to tower.” You hear his voice and press a button to accept his call. “Quinn jet, this is Y/N speaking from the tower. You’re affirm to report.” Clint told you that he’s 15 minutes away to arrive and Natasha is missing in action. “Oh God.” You pull down the headset and running to find Tony and Bruce. “They’ve got Nat. She’s m.i.a.” Bruce takes his glasses off. “You have her tracker right?” Tony rush to his computer “I’ll find her.”

You and Banner helps Clint unload the cradle and bring it into the lab and Tony walks in. Disappointment shows on his face and Bruce ask before I do. “Did you find her?” He just walks straight toward the cradle. “Haven’t heard but I’m sure she’s alive or Ultron would rub us in the face.” Seriously? Did he truly find her at all? You want to ask him that but Clint change the topic. “This seal tight.” He stands next to you.

Tony turn around to look at both of you and Clint, ignoring Bruce. “Is there any chance she might leave a massage outside the internet? Old school spy stuff perhaps.”

“You worry about the cradle.”

“We’ll find her.” Both you and Clint walks out that lab.

Clint handle the modern tech frequency while you handle the old one. “You okay with that? Wanna switch up?” You tuning on the frequency “I’m good. I can’t be near that high tech frequency anyway. That’s why I still have my Walkman and not Bluetooth headset. You know, because my…” You pointing at your left chest and he nodding. “Right. I hope she led us somewhere.” You smile at him. “She’s Natasha. She’ll make plan.”

It is true. Natasha did figure something out. While you tuning the frequency, you hear a static note. Tuning it again to have a clear shot. Natasha sending you her location by Morse code. You tell Clint to decode it on the screen. “You’re right. She did have plan.”

[outcastpack]

I wanna drown in an ocean of you.

The birthday present moodboard

I'm also using this as a mini celebration for 200 followers because I only just realised I had hit it 😅🤣

Theo entered the garage, following Jenna in as she turns the lights on.

The women immediately went ahead to start routing through the boxes that surrounded the room to begin looking for the photo albums, but Theo's attention was pulled towards something else, in the centre of the garage sat a large sheet covering something- specifically a car if the outline was anything to go by.

"Whats that?" He asks Jenna, pointing at the covered vehicle when she turns to face him. The women instantly looks at the car fondly. "That was my father's car before he passed it on to me." Jenna stands to her feet moving towards the vehicle motioning for Theo to help her.

Together they pull the sheet off the vehicle. Theo's eyes widen as the car is revealed.

A 1970s Ford Mustang.

The vehicle is in definite need of repair and restoration. His eyes skimming over the cars black exterior.

Jenna has moved. Walking along the car stroking her hand over the hood. "I used to drive this car everywhere, even Liam grew up with me driving it." Theo moves along the car looking through the drivers door window.

As expected the interior was in need of help. New seats needed and potentially a new steering wheel not even counting if the car would even start up.

"I wanted to pass it on to Liam one day, but the old girl was damaged and her parts are hard to come by, if not impossible. " Jenna is motioning towards the front of the car now where the front bumper and hood were damaged leading up to the passenger side.

"I couldn't bare the thought of being rid of her though. She was my own father's and is one of the last things I have of him." Jenna’s voice cracks a little as she speaks. Theo turns back to face Jenna seeing the slight wetness in her eyes as she reminisces over the vehicle.

"Does it start?" He asks her. Eyeing the car with interest. A small idea forming in his head.

Jenna turns towards the wall where a rack of keys hangs off it. Pulling out a set and motioning towards the vehicle. She opens the drivers door- ignoring the dust that comes away.

She puts the key in the ignition turning it to try and start the vehicle.

Nothing happens

She tries again- and again.

The engine roars a little before dieing, immediately shutting off.

The women sighs climbing out. Eyeing the vehicle with sadness. "She has been sat here for years now." She sighs sounding a little dejected turning put the key back on the rack.

Theo reachs out, taking the key slowly out her hands. Walking around the car.

Theo stays silent as his gaze returns solely back to the car.

He imagines a younger Jenna driving the car for the first time, to a young Liam sat on her knee holding the wheel while he tries to reach the peddles.

He imagines a 19 year old Liam driving this car.

It being parked outside the beach house or Theo's apartment next to Theo's own truck.

A checklist forming in his head over what the car needs.

New bumper and hood, the interior needing to be restored, issue with the engine needing to be fixed, potentially a full replacement of it, and the exterior needing a complete respray to make it look new along with other things.

Jenna was right. Parts like what it would need would be rare to come by.

Luckily Theo knew just the man that had the contacts they would need. Who had restored other older models before. Theo was sure with his dad's helped, they could both get the Mustang running again.

Theo smiles at Jenna, tapping his hand along the top of the car. "I'm gonna need to borrow her for awhile." The women eyes her sons boyfriend with confusion while Theo's grin just widens.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Lontano

Chapter Seven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Crowley(mentioned), Sam, Annie, Madison, Lee, Gibson (child OMC), Pamela, Kevin, Bobby, Claire and Krissy

Word Count: 2250

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Reader is left in the dark (for now), Reader's lack of self esteem, Pamela being kind of blunt, hinted past Sam/Annie, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

You laid in bed staring at the burst of sunlight sprouting out of your valances. You did not want to get up, or check your phone. It was a rare, quiet Sunday morning and you had no plans besides laundry. Bela had a big event the night before, so you weren’t meeting for brunch, for which you were kind of grateful. It felt like you had been staring at her face all week anyway, as much as you had been scrolling for chatter about her and Dean. You groaned and buried yourself beneath your comforter.

 The outside world could wait for another few minutes, not to mention the constant nagging worry of work could fuck right off. 

Because that’s all this anxiety was, work stress. The pressure from the label felt like it weighed solely on your shoulders, despite the band’s extended recording schedule for the new album and everyone’s thinning patience with Dean’s perfectionism. There was nothing else even going on in your life that could even compare. You were probably dehydrated. You shifted to peek out of your covers to find your water bottle empty on your nightstand, oh well.

Eventually, you got up, went about your business, and started a pot of coffee. Resigned to checking your phone while the coffee brewed, you shuffled back to your bedroom to pull it off the charger. Before you could even begin to sort through your text notifications, a headline alert glared at you from your lock screen. Panic flooded your uncaffeinated mind and you clicked on the link.

Gaping, you scrolled through the short article about the benefit filled with speculation about Dean’s presence at Bela’s side. You backed out of that article and dove into the rest of your updates. The pictures were fantastic, filled with easy smiles and casual touches. Dean in a tux was a rare thing, but he kept up his end of the bargain and dressed to match Bela’s standards. Your brain still stuttered over seeing them together, two parts of your life that hadn’t really overlapped until now. A silent ‘how was I not there?’ popping up as you continued to scroll.

The shrill beeping of the coffee pot pulled your eyes off your phone and back into the kitchen around you. It was just after ten, and you had to stop yourself from texting Dean or Bela an interrogation length message each. For the most part, the publicity seemed positive and more than curious about these two from such different worlds. 

Was it actually working?!

You inhaled and finally poured yourself a mug, letting the hope fizzle in your chest as you sat down at your desk and really began to dig. Sometime after one, you were pulled out of your email inbox by the doorbell. Who in the hell? Dumbfounded, you threw on a hoodie as you rushed to answer the door. You had to kick the rug because it always folded on itself underneath the lip of the door. Grunting, you gave up, sticking your head out to answer a disinterested floral delivery driver.

“Uh, I’ve got flowers for Ms. Y/L/N?” They checked their tablet. 

“That’s me,” you said, straightening up to look at the bundled bouquet as they handed you the stylus to sign confirmation of the delivery. You had no idea who would be sending you flowers, and it definitely wasn’t your birthday.

“Alright, that’s all I need. Here ya go,” they said, presenting the vase to you with the practiced ease of a single balanced hand. “Have a good one.”

You took the flowers, which you could smell through the paper barrier and watched them get back into their truck and back out of the narrow driveway that no one ever used. Confused, you set the package down on your kitchen table and started to tear out the perfectly spaced staples. They were gorgeous, lilies in whites and oranges. Tucked into the ribbon tied around the vase was a handwritten card.

Keep up the good work. Regards, Crowley

“You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me!” you balked. You checked the back of the card, there was no ‘gotcha’, it really was from the label exec. You set the card down face up, resting beside the vase and snapped a picture. No one was going to believe you, you needed the proof, right?

You told yourself it wasn’t bragging, no matter how smug it made you feel.

 The adoption event was something the band did every year, helping Annie (and now Madison, too) with a pre-holiday push to clear out the animal shelter and also spend time with adorable animals. Sam was in heaven, taking dogs through the yard, parading the dogs along the side of the building in the makeshift track, and running around with the excitable pups. Madison mained the welcome table while Annie oversaw a lot of the paperwork inside, helping people get approved and matched with pets that would fit each prospective adopter’s lifestyles and hopes.

The staff knew everyone by reputation, though Sam had been a regular volunteer since before Madison had even been hired on as a receptionist. So, they helped you all get eased into your rolls for the day, however informal they were. Lee brought Gibson along and they were making small talk with a family as the mother filled out forms. Kevin, new to the event, stood back and waited to be told what to do. Bobby kept the breakroom and the waiting room stocked with coffee and pastries. Though Dean’s allergies and his unwillingness to budge on his no pets rule with Sam meant he always bowed out, you knew he was a regular not-so-anonymous donor. 

Which left you and Pamela in the cat room, playing with a litter of kittens that were too young to be adopted out this round, but were all the more frisky with all the excitement buzzing around the shelter. 

“Oh my god, hello, tough stuff! Aren’t you the biter?!” Pamela cooed at a gray tiger who was overly fond of her jewelry.

“No fiercer a predator was there ever,” you agreed, dangling a stick with feathers on the end in front of its sleeker, paler littermate.

After a few minutes Pamela leaned back and let the kitten attempt to scale her lap. “God, I needed this. This album— fuck, it’s been brutal,” she sighed.

Worry clouded your thoughts, but you knew better than to ever say the first thing that came to your mind around Pamela, she always read between the lines. 

“Everything going okay?” you asked, hearing about the sessions from Dean was one thing. He may be the lead singer, but he really was only one dude in a band of five differing personalities.

Pamela huffed and tilted her head, you felt like she was measuring your capacity for the truth. “The sound is good. We’re meshing. It’s just— since Cas leaving for that ephemeral crap or whatever that pipsqueak is calling it— Dean’s been on edge about every fucking thing. And Lee’s offered to help, hell he’s got a half dozen songs ready to go, but—”

“Dean feels like he has to do it all himself,” you finished for her.

“And he’s being a complete martyr about it.”

You nestled a kitten against your chest and hummed, ruffling its ears as you thought. You hadn’t really talked to Dean all week, after all the publicity you had to sift through after Bela’s event and trying to line things up with Meg at Rolling Stone, finally. You couldn’t have known any of this, since you were so separate from that part of the process.

“And no offense, but this friend of yours? Was it really the best timing? He’s just getting his groove back— he doesn’t need more distractions,” Pamela tacked on in her no-nonsense way.

You couldn’t stop your eyebrows from raising in surprise, because this was coming from the woman who had married and divorced her bandmate multiple times. But Lee wasn’t Dean, and you knew they still played their parts despite whatever was going on at home. The band came first, well, after Gibson.

You told yourself it was Sam that agreed it was best to keep it from the band, the extra pressure you had inadvertently put on Dean. You knew you had to toe that line. 

“Dean’s a big boy, Pamela. If you think he needs to loosen up, you gotta tell him. He listens to you more than anybody, probably even Sam. Especially when it comes to music stuff. Bela and him— that’s his business. I’m not even sure how serious it is, as much as I love them both—.”

Pamela chuckled, breaking your momentum, but you pushed on.

“I’m staying a neutral party. I can’t really play matchmaker and then question if it’s a good idea. They can make their own choices.”

Another kitten crawled into your lap and you set the one you had been holding down next to it, so they could play. You felt Pamela watching you with her knowing eyes and from experience you knew she was going to continue to throw you for a loop with whatever she said next.

“Now who’s playing the martyr?”

You sighed and looked back at her, and luckily it seemed like she was at least teasing and not being snide. One of the kitten’s claws dug through your jeans and you yelped, pulling it off of your thigh. You stood to put it back in the crate with the rest of the litter.

“Just talk to him, he’ll let Lee get a song down, I can almost guarantee it.”

You gazed down at the innocent fur balls and wished your life held more silly little pleasures than it did. But you knew you didn’t deserve it, deep down.

You dragged out your phone and snapped some pictures of the kittens, then held it up to Pamela in question. She nodded and snuggled her kitten against her cheek, scrunching up her face for the shelter website. You’d send all of your shots to Annie later, let her pick and choose how to celebrate the event and advertise for next year.

Throughout the day, you got plenty of shots of the band with animals and the workers sending happy families off with new fur members. The day was winding down, but you stuck around to help anyway you could. You wiped down the breakroom table as Sam hauled the last of the pastries out to Bobby’s truck to bring home for Dean and to the studio if they lasted until Monday.

You tried not to pay attention when two of the younger staff members came in muttering, the blonde girl making the brunette openly gape. 

“No way! Grossssssssss.” 

“Shut up, she’s still got it, for her age.”

The brunette sighed and shook her head. “Sure, I guess, but didn’t she like set them up?”

The blonde shook her head. “I don’t think so, he was just here a lot when his brother was being a dick, and then Madison and him like bonded over shit.”

After that you couldn’t help but listen, because they were obviously talking about Sam. 

“Besides the thing with Annie was like forever ago, she’s been married for like three years or something and Madison just started here over the summer,” the blonde seemed unfazed by the amount of gossip she was conveying.

“I guess I just didn’t think about how well everyone knows each other.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” the blonde smirked.

Lee chose that moment to come into the breakroom with Gibson thrown over his shoulder, but the crook in his eyebrow told you he knew the college kids were being snarky. “Hey, Trouble, you ready to go? Little man here said his Uncle Dean told him everybody could come over for grub.”

The girls seemed to freeze in place, having not noticed your presence. You looked around the room, checking to see if it was cleaned up enough to call it a day. “Uh–”

You had no reason to bail on the band, but you had been looking forward to a night alone at your place. As lame as that seemed for a Saturday night, something was telling you that you’d make an idiot of yourself if you were left alone in Dean’s presence, or even Sam’s after the juicy details you’d just heard.

“I’ve actually got to get home and start sorting through the photos, but thanks for the offer.”

Lee’s face changed, bright eyes squinting in suspicion, but Gibson started to struggle. “You sure?” he asked, flipping his son over in front of him so he was back on his feet facing you, a giggling, miniature version of himself standing guard.

You looked down at the six-year-old and couldn’t help but grin. “Buddy, will you tell your Uncle Dean that I’m busy working and I’ll see him later?”

Gibson nodded excitedly, showing off the gap where he’d lost a tooth, and gave you the thumbs up, happy to play messenger for his favorite uncle.

 Lee spun towards the door, guiding Gibson at his side, “I guess that means it’s just us in the car cuz Mom’s already headed out. Later, Trouble!”

You shook your head at the adorableness and pulled out your phone to order a ride. Sometimes it was a real pain not driving by yourself, but you made your peace with never getting behind a wheel again long ago.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70@globetrotter28

Chapter Seven: Lilt

[nadal-designer]

[damnlance]

part 2 of my klance blurb but in lance’s pov. happy new year!

what a crazy fucking morning. scratch that. what a crazy fucking week. lance’s parents were on him about his stupid car, again. take it to the car wash, lance. get your tires rotated, lance. don’t forget your wax appointment, lance. at this point, they cared more about the car than they did their own son. lance had WAY better things to do than take care of some car for fucks sake.

he hated his car. it was a present for his twenty-third birthday three fucking years ago! lance was a little naive back then, thinking a fast, sexy bmw in his favorite color would get him laid every night. thank god he grew out of that phase after five months of nothing.

after his parents nagged him about the car, he was fed up. like actually the last straw. so he left that morning with hopes that when he returned home, the stupid car didn’t. he prayed on it. and although he was a little bit reckless and fucking dumb, his prayers were answered when he saw a big truck heading his way. he wasn’t proud of this in the slightest, but.. he needed this.

so he slows down, real slow. the highway is busy as everyone is on their way to work. it’s perfect. lance looks around for any cops because he’s about to ruin this car for good. he hopes he doesn’t die. he prays again for an angel to watch over him. then.. he becomes a maniac.

he swerves a little to the left. a car honks at him and he gets back into his lane. he goes a little to the right, heart beating fast in his chest. at times he slows down so much that he’s barely even driving and man does he feel dangerous!

maybe too dangerous.

okay, no, this is CRAZY!! he could get himself killed!! and probably injure the truck driver behind him! or others! yeah, this is fucking idiotic.

so lance changes his mind and.. goes with the flow of traffic. he starts driving like he means it. where is he going? he doesn’t know but maybe if there’s anything interesting near by, he’ll stop.

he decides to think of another way to get rid of this car. maybe he could leave the keys inside and go to the mall and just never come out. that could work. or maybe let some random person take it for a joyride and hope they take it forever. maybe. lance gets so lost in his thoughts that he misses the idiot car that cuts him off and break checks him. his foot becomes a little too heavy on the brakes and before he can get his bearings, BOOM!

he gets rear ended..

by the fucking truck.

lance’s heart beats a trillion times a minute because if anyone was watching or if the truck has a dash cam OORRR if the truck driver was a cop!? lance would be over.

he checks his body for any bruises or injuries. he’s good. his back will probably be sore but he’s so hopped up on adrenaline that he can’t focus on that right now. it’s clear that other cars have seen the accident and are moving out the way so they can merge over to the side of the road. lance goes and when he sees the truck following him, it becomes real what he did.

everything horribly wrong runs through his veins as he proceeds to get over onto the shoulder lane of the highway, the not-so-banged-up truck following close behind. lance takes a deep breath, then another one. he looks in his side mirror to see the truck driver getting out of the truck, looking visibly shaken up. guilt wracks lance’s brain as he takes another deep breath and gets out the car.

the first thing he notices is the bumper. totaled. that’s a good thing, his parents will be devastated. now, whether they’ll be devastated for the car or lance’s safety is questionable.

no it’s not. it’s the latter.

the next thing lance notices that gets his breath taken away is the sight of blood from the stranger. his heart begins to beat fast again as more horrible things run through his mind.

“holy crow!” he shouts, walking a little closer and staring the guy down. he can’t be much older than lance is. how did he become a truck driver???? aren’t there rules and regulations for that kind of thing?? nope, not important. “are you alright, man!?”

“m-me?” the dark haired guy answers and lance feels all the guilt twist in his gut. he clearly has whiplash. or.. something. but lance didn’t know that car was going to cut him off! if anything, he saved his own life. he’d rather be the rear-ended one than the rear-ender if that makes sense. lance moves even closer and continues to stare at the guy, searching his eyes for any signs of a concussion. he grips him by the shoulders and that’s when he sees the blood.

“oh, dude, you’re bleeding!” he exclaims, heart beating faster. he stares down this guy and for a second.. something happens.

it’s like time goes slow or something? it’s got to be the adrenaline in his body because the way this guy is staring at him is making lance feel kinda weird? he continues to examine his face and neck and eyes. no signs of whiplash but this guy is staring up at lance like he’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. it has lance’s stomach flipping and makes the examination all the harder. but while he’s at it, lance takes a good look at him. he’s got clear pale skin, almost porcelain like, not a pimple, blemish, or whitehead in sight, and it makes lance wonder what his skincare routine is. thick and bushy eyebrows sit atop his eyes and when lance looks into those eyes, they’re dark. almost violet but not. maybe ultramarine? they’re mysterious yet.. mesmerizing. his eyes are kinda almond shaped and they’re the prettiest eyes he’s ever gazed upon, even with the light traces of eyeliner around them, making them more bold. his lashes are ten times prettier than lance’s own as they fawn out over and around his eyes. his black hair is styled into a messy mullet type thing and as much as lance doesn’t like mullets, it suits this guy fucking good. a little too good. lance inhales and gets a whiff of him, and he smells about as good as an abercrombie model would. fresh and earthy. like pine.

lance snaps out of his trance when the smell of blood hits his nose and tries to shake the guy a little because it looks like something is wrong. he’s got this empty look on his face and he hasn’t blinked for at least a minute.

“dude!” lance pinches his arm near his elbow and that gets him back.

“h-huh?” the guy says, blinking a few times.

“i said you’re bleeding!” lance reaches up to touch the dark haired man’s forehead, moving his long, soft shoulder length hair out of his face. lance touches his hairline with two fingers and holds them in the stranger’s eye view to show him the blood. that just about does it for him as he snaps out of whatever funk he was in. he jumps back a few feet, a light blush filling his pale cheeks. lance can’t help the small yet subtle smirk that breaks across his face.

“i-i’m sorry!” the stranger says, holding his arms around his body.. his beefy body.

the smirk on lance’s face doesn’t falter for a second. “for bleeding? yeah, dude, it’s cool.” he replies in a lighthearted tone. that gets the dark haired man squirming and damn near foaming at the mouth with words. lance can only stand there, finding his nervousness adorable. he jabbers about, mentioning things like car insurance, paying for the ‘horrible damages’ to lance’s bmw, and even going as far as to apologize for the blood on lance’s fingers.. from his forehead.

it’s cute. he’s cute.

“dude?” lance sends a charming wide smile his way. he shushes mr eyeliner and it actually works. his mouth zips tight into a line.

“hm..” his sexy adam’s apple bobs up then down. his dark eyes focused on lance’s own.

“i don’t care about the car.” lance admits, a little too nonchalantly. he watches as this hot ass guy’s mouth falls open like he’s just said the most out of pocket thing in the world. and he probably has. rich parents problems.

“you don’t!?” the dark haired man damn near yells. but lance smiles at him, moving a little closer.

“no. i only care about the gash in your head.” lance can’t help but chuckle because the look on this guy’s face is priceless. it’s like he’s expecting the absolute worst thing to happen. “it’s pretty deep. i can go with you to the hospital..”

lance wants to go with him. he doesn’t want to go home. he didn’t really have any plans today other than to get rid of the one thing that’s keeping him weirdly tethered to his parents’ love or something. and hey, it worked. car totaled.

“no!” the cute stranger suddenly yells and it makes lance flinch a little. he wasn’t expecting a no. he continues to stare at this nervous little angel until his babbling comes back. “i mean! y-your car!! i-! your car is-! i didn’t mean to..”

lance has never smiled this much in one day. especially lately. it feels nice to have his facial muscles hurt from smiling instead of frowning or.. crying. and almost like a lightbulb floating above his head, lance has an idea.

“sir?” he says, reaching for his violet-eyed angel’s tense shoulders. he can feel the exact moment when those strong shoulders slouch and go lax under his hands. “relax.”

lance feels his eyes gravitate towards those mysterious indigo ones and he’s instantly locked in. once again, time slows for him. he feels like his body is moving backwards while the rest of the world is moving forwards, kinda of like how he feels at the beach in between the sand and the waves. his heart begins it’s slow incline of pounding beneath his chest and it’s a new feeling for him. this beautiful stranger is making him feel things.

“o.. kay…” the long haired man nods, eyes never leaving lance’s own. it’s such an intense thing, staring into another person’s eyes and not feeling awkward or weird about it. lance catches the small blush start on the long haired man’s porcelain skin, filling his nose and out to his cheeks until he’s full on red. lance’s heart goes faster.

“you seem really distraught by the whole thing.” lance says, eyes quickly darting to his banged up car. “allow me to introduce myself. my name is lance.”

sexy mullet man only nods, mouth slightly open.

“and yours?” lance asks, eyes scanning over every ounce of that pretty face.

“k.. k-keith..” pretty dude stutters out.

keith! lance smiles, a chill of relief going down his spine. “it’s nice to meet you, keith.” he says, trying the name out on his tongue. he carefully moves his hands from the top of keith’s shoulders down to his forearms, experimentally giving them a gentle squeeze. lance inhales a little. god, he’s fucking ripped. he’s only about an inch or two shorter than lance, which doesn’t mean anything because lance is 6’0 tall, but the imagination is there. keith wears a black t-shirt with a black long sleeve underneath but even that’s not helping. keith has to have a six pack. he can’t have beefy arms like this with no six pack.

the literal ongoing traffic snaps lance out of his thoughts. right. side of the fucking road.

“mhm.” keith hums, batting those pretty eyes. lance curses himself. he removes his hands from keith’s body and lets out a small sigh. walking over to keith’s truck, he looks over to his car and examines the horrendous state it’s in. and a laugh churns in his gut.

“you know, you really did me a favor,” he sighs out, placing his hands on his hips. the soft material of his blue jeans underneath the palms of his hands does something to him. anger..?

“oh..” keith walks over to him a little hesitantly, looking from lance’s unrecognizable bmw to his giant truck. “how so?”

anger. lance feels anger. “i’ve been wanting to get rid of this car since i got it three years ago. my fancy rich parents got it for me for my twenty-third birthday and i’ve always hated it.”

he looks over and finds violet eyes. pale skin turning red. “i got into a fight with said parents about it a few days ago and kinda prayed that something bad would happen to it.” lance says, feeling selfish. he’s so happy about his car being crushed like a soda can that he hasn’t had any time to think about the fact that he could have been hurt. or worse. he doesn’t want to think about that. he crosses his arms over his chest and pushes the feeling down. “guess that makes you like my angel or something?” he flirts.

and it works because keith’s pink face goes a few shades darker and lance’s heart goes fast again, hooked on this feeling of making this total stranger squirm under his words. he smiles big again. “kidding.”

he walks to his car that’s about two feet away and opens the door. he reaches inside and grabs his backpack then reaches in the backseat to grab his fully packed duffle bag. he reaches into the cupholder and grabs his cinnamon flavored lip balm, tucking that into his pocket. he grabs his wallet, phone, and gum from inside the armrest and tucks those away into his pocket. he reaches over to open the glove compartment to grab all his little papers, knick-knacks, and emergency snacks, shoving those into his duffle bag. he grabs his keys and closes the door to his precious little car. he locks the door and gets a sick idea in his brain. lightbulb! he takes out his phone from his pocket and walks around to the back of his car. he focuses the camera onto the irreversibly dented backside of lance’s bmw and takes a pic. the anger is back and it’s going through his veins. he looks at the pic on his phone then goes to his messages.

‘sorry about your precious baby. i’m fine by the way.’

he nods his head and hits send.

“alright, sent.”

“what??” lance looks over to keith’s eyes growing wide. “you just-!”

“i just sent a pic to my annoying parents,” lance frowns, but a smile soon cracks through. “yeah, man.”

keith’s eyes bore into lance as lance smiles through his anger. he smiles like everything is okay. and it is because the way keith stares at him is enough to make lance believe that heaven is right here on earth and it’s standing in front of him, staring at him with intense dark eyes and a fucking mullet.

another idea. lance turns away to reach over and grab his license plate from the front of keith’s truck. he smiles at it in his hands. “this will make a great mantelpiece above my parent’s fireplace. what do you think?”

he turns to smile at keith, raising an eyebrow. keith returns the smile, something skittish reflecting in those hypnotic orbs known as his eyes.

“i.. think it’s badass.”

lance feels his blood boil in the pit of his stomach, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. he’s relieved to hear someone say anything other than negativity or he’s “crazy.” it ignites a spark in his veins. keith is the spark.

“that’s my boy.” lance hums, sounding crazy. but it’s okay. he’s pretty sure keith dies a little.

lance wants to go with him. he doesn’t want to go home. he doesn’t want to go with his friends. he doesn’t want to go anywhere but with a total stranger in his big ass truck. so lance does what he’s good at and talks his way into going with keith. in a short few minutes, lance is flashing his charm and charisma and climbing into the passenger seat of keith’s truck. first stop, the hospital. lance felt really bad about keith getting seriously hurt and offered to drive, but apparently there’s certain rules to driving a semi and keith couldn’t take that risk.

a quick pop by the hospital for keith’s stitches had lance happily holding keith’s (weirdly) gloved hand while an attractive male nurse fixed the wound in keith’s pretty forehead. it was interesting seeing him squirm when lance grabbed his hand, but not from the giant ass needle they put inside his head to numb the pain. lance was the one who almost hit the fucking floor! still feeling the guilt in his chest, lance used up some of his reserved charm for a certain dark haired man with magical eyes for a cute nurse at the front desk and got keith’s bill lowered to a decent price. then lance paid for it, despite keith’s protesting. it was the least he could do. he even went with keith to finish his delivery and got to see how that whole thing works.

but like all good things, their time had to come to an end. keith drove lance all the way home to his rich and snobby ass prison of a neighborhood. watching keith’s face go from neutral and nervous to awe at all of the fake ass, dusty porcelain water fountains around lance’s gated community was the funniest thing. if only keith knew the truth behind those rusty gates..

putting his truck in park, keith settles into his seat with a sigh. he reaches his hand up to his bandaged forehead and before he can scratch, lance reaches over and slaps his hand.

“no! don’t touch!” he yells. keith is caught off guard. he’s so cute. “you gotta let it heal properly.” doctors words. he’s supposed to get his stitches out in a few weeks and lance doesn’t want keith to have to go back before then.

“right.” keith replies, nodding. he’s nervous, lance notices, and can tell by the way he’s squirming and pinching at the tight leather gloves on his hands.

lance points to them. “aren’t you hot in those? it’s like eighty degrees out.”

“nah,” keith shrugs, focused on his hands. only his hands. “i pretty much lived in the desert, so im used to the heat.”

that has lance smiling for some reason. it’s such a random thing to say and yet it leaves lance wanting to know more.

“yeah,” lance shrugs, trying to hide a shit eating grin. “being used to the heat must be nice and all, considering how hot you are.” and he means it. keith is truly the hottest guy he’s seen in a while and he hopes it doesn’t weird keith out. lance cannot tell lies.

it seems to do something because keith is sitting up straighter and his exposed ear begins to change from a sparkly white to a rosy pink. lance can’t help but to smile. he’s been smiling so much all day that he’s not used to it. it’s been so long since he’s smiled genuinely and it kind of hurts. in a good way. also, just considering the day he’s had, he should be crying or screaming. he knows the second he leaves this truck, the second he leaves his gorgeous emo angel, it’s back to the real world. and the real world fucking sucks.

so he sucks up his pride and does what he’s been meaning to do all day. he lets out a shaky sigh and tries not to bite his tongue. “i apologize for being so forward but can i.. get your number?”

his heart beats like crazy. what if keith says no?? then what??

keith seems to cough a little, barely making eye contact. “m-my… number??”

lance is feeling nervous now. he nods. “yeah. like, your phone number..”

“.. why?” keith asks and lance all but melts in his seat. keith is so cute and innocent. his response should’ve scared lance to death but it only makes him smile, laughing a bit.

“so i can text you for your insurance information, duh?” he jokes, smirking as he waits for keith to laugh. but keith doesn’t. he sits there, body tensing in seconds and when lance realizes his sarcasm went over keith’s head and out the window, he rolls his eyes. “oh my god, so i can call you sometime!.. m-maybe..”

“me!? you want to call me?” keith’s eyes widen and he sounds so shocked like no one has ever asked for his number before. lance refuses to believe that.

instead, he nods and decides to be a little vulnerable, turning his body towards keith so he can see that yummy face of his. “yeah. is that.. cool?”

“yes!” keith blurts, nodding his head fast. lance really really thinks he’s so cute! “i mean.. sure.”

“cool.” lance lets out a nervous breath and bites on his lower lip. he grabs his phone and exchanges numbers with keith, going a little out of his way to get a picture of keith’s angel face as his contact photo, because there’s no way anyone would believe him when he tells them about the day he saw an actual angel. keith had the absolute nerve to try and hide that pretty face because of his patched up forehead and fucking messy hair. lance wanted to slap him. instead, he reassures him by commenting on how cute he looked and how he wanted to remember keith on this day the way he was right now.

“sexy, yet adorable.”

keith’s cheeks turned red and puffy again. fucking hell, his hotness is just a joke to him. does he even know??

when keith decided to take a picture too, lance only smiled, knowing that as long as he had keith in his eye’s view, he wouldn’t worry about how he looked. keith was the greatest thing he could look at and with a man like him, lance couldn’t bring himself to care about his own looks.

he smiled big and happy for the first time in weeks, months, because keith was staring so purely at him that it made his insides turn to mush. what a feeling. he missed feeling anything other than anger or unhappiness. keith made him feel like he could fly.

lance saved keith in his phone as the sexy yet adorable emo angel and although a long name, it suited him. he added a purple heart emoji for keith’s eyes and it was saved.

time was ticking. lance’s phone was secretly blowing up with texts from his family, from his parents, and he couldn’t hide forever. this was it. pulling his cinnamon lip balm free from his pocket, he opened keith’s gloved hand and placed the tasty balm inside and then leaned over and surprisingly kissed keith square on his cheek.

“thanks for the eventful day..”

he smiled before opening his door and hopping out of the truck with his things in hand. he walked over to the large gates of his neighborhood and put in the four digit PIN that resided with his family. as the gates opened slowly, he turned to keith, waving goodbye, before he began his walk down the hill and to the street of his parents’ home.

he thought about keith the entire way, hoping that he wasn’t too forward by asking for his number and kissing him. he needed a way to keep himself inside keith’s head so that he could see him again. he had to see him again. just thinking about it sent lance’s skin ablaze. how did his shitty day turn so lovesick puppy in the span of a few hours? how did keith do that?? lance’s stomach did that thing where it dropped to his ass and his heart sped up so fast, he felt as if he were going to pass out. his hands got sweaty again, so sweaty that he had to sling his bag over his shoulder because it was getting harder to hold. waves of uncertainty and exhilaration bounced around in his stomach and he had to put a hand over his chest to try and calm his arrhythmic heartbeat.

no.. no way? lance has to literally laugh at himself.

he can’t.. be in love with this total stranger?

can he???

to be continued..

part 1 part 3

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken Heart/Broken Mind

Chapter Forty

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

A horn honked in front of the house. Sophie went to go investigate why a gray truck had been outside for the last five minutes. On the way out, she grabbed the baseball bat by the door, just in case.

She peered out the door. The horn started honking again. She sighed in relief when she saw who was in the driver's seat.

Keefe rolled down the window. "Hey, Foster! Guess what I got for my birthday!"

"No way!" She ran down the steps and up to the window. "Your parents got you a car?"

He snorted. "No, Ro did. Remember, she's richy rich, now."

"That is awesome!"

"Wanna ride around?"

"Uh, yeah!"

She ran inside to go tell her parents, then jumped into the truck.

They rode around the neighborhood a couple of times. When they drove by the grumpy old man's house, Keefe blasted the music.

Mr. Forkle came out of his house, yelling at them to shut up. Keefe stopped and turned up the music so loud, Sophie thought her eardrums might burst. The bass rattled her teeth.

The next go around, Mr. Forkle was waiting for them. He got up out of hus rocking chair and aimed his BB gun. Before he could pull the trigger, Keefe sped off.

Sophie couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, he is going to murder you if he gets his hands on you."

He smirked. "Good thing he won't."

She shook her head. "You're awful."

"I try."

They steered into Sophie's driveway.

"After the game Friday," Keefe began, "We're gonna go to Ruby Tuesdays. It's going to be for our championship and for my birthday. Do you wanna come?"

Sophie grinned. "I'd love to."

Sophie fiddled with the ribbon of Keefe's present. She really wanted him to like it, she just didn't know if she should in front of the entire team.

At the table, Fitz ended up telling the waitor that they were celebrating Keefe's birthday.

"Aw, come on," Keefe complained. "You know how embarrassing that is."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "Then where was that courtesy when it was my birthday?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Touche."

A couple of times, Sophie nearly slid him his gift. But every time, she held back. She knew how big of a deal it would be for him. She wasn't sure how he'd react if it was in front of his friends.

Finally, when it was time for everyone to go, she pulled him aside.

"Hey," she murmured. "I got you something." She held it out to him.

"Oh," Keefe took it from her. "Thank you."

He slowly unraveled the ribbon. When he tore the paper off, he gasped.

It was a green sketch book, covered in little swirled engravings. There was also a set of colored pencils and watercolor paints.

"I've seen your art," she explained. "And I know how much you enjoy it. But whenever I've seen you draw, it's always in crayons and pens. So I figured you'd like something a bit more professional. Do you like it?"

Her awnser was the wind being knocked out over her from Keefe's crushing embrace.

"I love it, Sophie!" He pulled back to reveal his slightly teary eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, palm lingering on her cheek when he pulled back. "It's fantastic."

Sophie giggled.

[eadanga]

A Special Birthday

Sawyer lies in bed then feels a pair of lips touch his he smiles as he knew exactly who it was he wraps his arms around then slowly opens his eyes and sees his wife Gabby he grins “You should wake me up like that everyday”

Gabby giggles as she rests her forehead against his “Good morning happy birthday”

“Thanks babe now I know that look on your face what you got planned for me”

Gabby smiles “You’re gonna have to find out now come let’s eat and then we’ll have some fun”

 Sawyer raises an eyebrow smirking “Fun huh?” He pulls her down and pins her to the bed “Yes this is really fun”

Gabby laughs “Sawyer stop!”

“You said we’re gonna have fun”

Gabby giggles “Not this kind of fun we have the whole day”

“Just 5 minutes” He trails kisses up her neck “Maybe an hour”

Gabby sighs as she grabs his face with both hands “Ok I promise you we’ll do this later for now don’t let my hard work go to waste”

Sawyer chuckles and rolls off her “Alright but after I want time alone with my birthday present”

Gabby stands “Good” She takes his hand “Now let’s eat”

She guides him to the kitchen

Sawyer grins as he sees the breakfast feast in front of him “Wow babe you cooked food for a king”

Gabby giggles “Well you’re supposed to eat breakfast like a king”

“This looks amazing” He takes her hand “Well a king can’t eat his food without his queen”

Gabby smiles as she sits down next to him and they dig into breakfast. Gabby clears the table and places his hands on his shoulders “You ready for the next stop?”

“I’m always ready with you” Gabby smiles as she leads him outside to their horses “Are we riding somewhere?”

“Yup to a special place I have just for you”

Sawyer grins “I can’t to wait to see it”

They climb onto their horses and they ride off into the woods Gabby pulls her horse to a stop and Sawyer follows suit they climb off their horses Gabby covers his eyes “No peaking”

“Oh come on”

Gabby giggles “We’re almost there” They walk for a few minutes then stop “Ok you ready 1…2…3 you can look”

She removes her hands and Sawyer takes a look at the cabin and truck in front of him he looks at her confused “Where are we?”

“It’s our cabin”

“What do you mean our cabin don’t play around Gabby”

“I’m not Sawyer it’s ours had it built for us”

Sawyer shakes his head trying not to smile “No I don’t believe you I wanna see proof”

Gabby laughs as she pulls out a piece of paper “Here’s the deed you can see for your eyes”

Sawyer looks over the paper then looks at her his eyes wide “Are you serious?”

“Yes this can be our private little getaway together you and me”

Sawyer grins as he walks closer to her “And the truck?”

Gabby wiggles the keys “That one’s yours” Sawyer picks her up and spins her around as she roars with laughter “Sawyer! Put me down!”

He sets her down gently and kisses her deeply “I love you Gabby”

“I love you too Sawyer”

He runs over to the truck checking it out “Gab this is so nice where you even how did you?”

“Too many questions you gonna start it up?”

Sawyer gets in the driver seat and starts up the truck “Wow this baby purrs like a dream I love it Gabby”

“I knew you would”

He turns off the car then kisses her again “You’re amazing and I can’t wait for the fun we’re gonna have here in our spot”

“Yes you me and our future family”

“Little me’s and you’s running around I can’t for that I love you”

“I love you too happy birthday”

Tags: @choicesgodfanatic @indiacater @the-soot-sprite

[atlasdoe]

Hello my name is Ace and i'm back on my lab rats bullshit so i'm rewatching the entire show

i've been trying to sort out all of the characters ages in my head since the dawn of time so im using this rewatch as an opportunity to keep record of all the times the characters mention their ages or time as a whole

also i would like to make it known that i have no idea how American schools work

also also I know that this is a kids show and I knew that the timeline had issues way before I started this but it was a fun thing to keep track of as I watched and now I have this information and I have no idea what to do with it so enjoy i guess

Lab Rats

Season 1, Episode 1: Crush, Chop and Burn Part 1

- All of the siblings attend High School meaning that they are from the ages of 13 - 18

- All of the siblings attend the same gym class

Season 1, Episode 8: Bionic Birthday Fail

- It's Leos 14th birthday

- Donald says that he's 38

this particular episode first aired on May the 7th so this could be Leo's date of birth but it's never said what the day is in the episode

also side note but it is cannon that Davenport did not celebrate Adam Bree and Chases birthdays up until this point. Also they don't know who Santa is but do celebrate Christmas with presents and decorations the same as seen in episode 3

Season 1, Episode 14: Chore Wars

- Chase says that 2009 was 3 years ago making the year this episode takes place 2012

Season 1, Episode 15: Dude, Wheres My Lab

- It's summer vacation meaning that it takes place during the months of May, June, July or August

Season 1, Episode 16: Air Leo

- Leo says that he's 14

- The episode takes place in the school meaning that if it was summer vacation in the last episode then it's a new school year in this one. American school years start in either late August or early September

Season 1, Episode 17: Night of the Living Virus

this isn't really anything but it was very obvious to me that this episode was shot before the others. Not only does Chase have his old haircut that he had for the first few episode but the sofa has the old throw pillows that they changed at the end of the second episode. Idk what this means for the timeline of when this episode took place (i believe it's a halloween episode as it aired in October) so idk if this episode is supposed to take place before the other episodes or if the producers just didn't care enough to care about the changes

- Caitlin is at least 16 years old in this episode as they mention her sweet 16

Season 1, Episode 20: Mission Space

- Leo says that Marcus is a Sagittarius

- Bree says that she's also a Sagittarius

Sagittarius have their birthdays between November 22nd and December 21st

Season 2, Episode 1: Speed Trapped

- Leo says he's 14

Season 2, Episode 2: Spy Fly

- Leo says that Davenport is almost 40

- It appears that Adam and Chase are in the same health class since they have the same assighment

- Bree and Leo are both doing the same physics test in the same class

Season 2, Episode 9: Spikes Got Talent

- At the beginning of the episode the siblings talk about the yearbook and about how everyone got a most likely to apart from Chase. This indicates that the yearbooks have just been handed out. When yearbooks come out depends on the school but it's mostly near the end of the school year

Season 2, Episode 12: Trucked Out

- Adam gets his drivers license meaning that he is at least 16 years old

Considering he passed on his first test and Bree, Chase and Leo don't have their licenses we can safely assume that Bree, Chase and Leo are all under the age of 16 in this episode

Season 2, Episode 15: Bionic Showdown Part 2

- Marcus is under the age of 16

Season 2, Episode 16: Memory Wipe

- The siblings erase 24 years of Donalds memory making him think that he's 15. Meaning that in this episode he would've been 39

Season 2, Episode 19: Llama Drama

- It's leading up to the homecoming game. Homecoming usually takes place in late September or early October meaning that it is probably a new school year

Season 2, Episode 20: The Haunting of Mission Creek High

- It's the homecoming dance meaning that it's still late September/early October

Season 2, Episode 21: Perry 2.0

- Adam and Bree seem to have gym class together but they're literally in gym for the entire episode apart from a small scene where they're at lunch so that might've been some special type of sport day or something like that

Season 2, Episode 23: Prank You Very Much

- It's been 150 days since Janelle and Leo first spoke to each other. Janelles first appearance in the show was Season 1 Episode 10: Can I Borrow the Helicopter? meaning that it (should) have been no more then 150 days since that episode. Though this doesn't make much sense since some of the most recent episodes revolves around homecoming which starts at the beginning of the school year and we already had a summer vacation episode last season and there is no way that everyone from "Dude Where's My Lab?" and "Llama Drama" happened within a month

Season 2, Episode 24: 'Twas the Mission Before Christmas

- It's Christmas Eve

- Tasha says that it's their first Christmas together but again like i just said this makes no sense since at least one christmas should've passed

- Bree says that Davenport Industry's have been risking the fate of mankind since 1992. If she hasn't made this year up then that means that if Donald is 39 in this episode and this episode takes place in 2012 like they're suggesting (even tho the episode came out in 2013. If this is their first christmas together it should be 2012) then Davenport Industry's started 20 years ago when Donald was 19

- Chase says that he is 15

Season 2, Episode 25: Trent Gets Schooled

- Part of this episode revolves around taking pictures for the Yearbook. Since Bree mentions her photo from the previous year and yearbook photos were mentioned in Spikes Got Talent this means that the siblings have DEFINITELY been going to school for longer then a year

- Leo and Trent both say that it's not football season. Football season is usually late August/early September to mid/late October meaning that it is not during this time in the episode

- Trent does a test in this episode and after passing he graduates immediately and then becomes the coach. Idk if it's possible for Trent to just immediately graduate at a random point in the school year or if this had to have taken place during the end of the school year

Season 3, Episode 5: Zip It

- Bree, Chase and Caitlin all get a part time job in this episode. In California you have to be at least 14 to work so this doesn't tell us anything about how old they are considering we know that Chase is at least 15 but I'm keeping it in anyway

Season 3, Episode 7: Scramble the Orbs

- Leo, Adam and Janelle have a gym class together

Season 3, Episode 9: Taken

- Douglas is at least 40 years old as he shows Leo a video from his 40th birthday party. This means that Donald has to be over the age of 40

Season 3, Episode 10: Three Minus Bree

- Eddy says that Leo is 16 years old

Season 3, Episode 12: Cyborg Shark Attack

- It's summer as said by Perry and indicated in what the characters are wearing but the school is still open meaning it might be around May - June

Season 3, Episode 13: You Posted What!?! Part 1

- Donald says that he's had Adam Bree and Chase for 16 years meaning that they are all at least 16 years old

Season 3, Episode 14: You Posted What!?! Part 2

- Donald says that he's 43

Season 3, Episode 15: Armed and Dangerous

- Donald says that he and the trio have had 16 years of training

Season 3, Episode 17: Brother Battle

- Bree mentions working a 12 hour shift at Tech Town. According to Google people under the age of 18 can be asked to work for longer then 8 hours a day in exceptional circumstances. They can ask only if no one who's over the age of 18 is available to do the work

Season 3, Episode 20: Merry Glichmas

- It's Christmas

- Leo says he's 16

- In the last Christmas episode Chase says that he's 15 meaning that for this Christmas Chase has to be at least 16. Since Leo says that he's 16 and it's could either be that Chase is only a few months older then Leo or that this episode takes place two years after the last Christmas episode and Chase is 17

Season 3, Episode 22: The Rise Of The Secret Soldiers Part 2

- It's given off that Krane began raising the secret soldiers since they were babies behind Douglas back as Douglas says that he had a tone of baby pictures meaning that Douglas and Krane must've been working together for at least 16 years

Season 3, Episode 23: Bionic House Party

- Bree mentions that some of the soldiers used her prom dress for target practice giving the impression that Bree has either already attended prom or was planning to soon. Since Bree is never seen with a stable boyfriend throughout the show it's likely that this was for her own prom. Students who attend prom are the senior class who are aged 17/18 years old. (i just wrote this and played the episodes only for Chase to say that the odds of her using it were very slim. Idk why Bree would have a prom dress if she never intends to go to prom but this could likely mean that she's a senior at the moment and already brought her dress before asking anyone to be her date) (idk use your imagination)

- Leo says that Donald is way older then he claims to be, giving the impression that throughout the show Leo has thought that Donald was younger then he really is because Donald keeps lying about his age. So far Donald has mentioned himself being 43. This would make somewhat sense if it wasn't for the memory wipe episode

- Bree says that Leo found them five friends in three years indicating that the first episode took place 3 years ago and if that episode took place in 2012 then it is currently 2015

Season 3, Episode 24: First Day Of Bionic Academy

- Bree says that she's still waiting on her sweet sixteen party meaning that Bree is at least 16 years old

- Leo has had his bionics for six months meaning it's been six months since the episode You Posted What!?! took place

- Bree mentions how she got stood up by a boy on prom night. this might be calling back to her unused prom dress

Season 4, Episode 4: Under Siege

- Leo refers to the time where Bree and Chase were looking after Kerry (Perrys niece) in the season 2 episode 18: Adam Up as "last year".

- Adam says that Leo is 16 years old

Season 4, Episode 6: Mission Mania

- Leo says he's been going on missions for over a month. His first mission would've been sometime after Rise of the Secret Soldiers

Season 4, Episode 8: Forbidden Hero

- Bree says that she has matured since high school giving off the impression that she did graduate. But it's noteworthy that none of the siblings go to school anymore and with Leo's last confirmed age being 16 he and maybe Chase should at least still be going. I can understand Chase no longer attending because there isn't much for school to teach him and he could've easily graduated early but it's odd for Leo to have just stopped especially since Tasha seems like the kind of mother to put Leos education over his bionic life. Also the last episode where we see the siblings attending school was Season 3, Episode 19: Face Off. In this episode all of the siblings were attending school. The show has never been accurate or cared about the characters ages when it comes to school and what classes they're attending so idk why i keep expecting them to subtly have Adam no longer be a student anymore or something but it was worth a try. Either way i think it's fair to say that school is giving us nothing in terms of finding out how old these characters are supposed to be.

- Also since i'm pretty sure that this is Caitlins last appearance in the show i'll mention now that she should be at least 19 years old since the Season One episode: Night Of The Living Virus mentions her sweet sixteen and with season one taking place in 2012 and this episode taking place in 2015 at the earliest, Caitlin should be at least 19. Although with that being said she was seen in Season 3 Episode 16: Alien Gladiators in school which she should've graduated by then. Again, the school setting seems to be ruining everything for me right now

Season 4, Episode 12: Space Elevator

- Chase says that their bionic secret has been out for a year meaning that it has been at least a year since Season 3 Episode 13/14: You Posted What!?! and it's been at least six months since the Bionic Academy opened

- Chase says that he went to High School for a year an a half meaning that everything that happened between the Season One, Episode One and Season Three Episode Nineteen happened within a year and a half (seems unlikely but okay)

Season 4, Episode 13: Bionic Action Hero Part 1

- Despite the fact that Leo moved up two colours in the last episode he's back to wearing the yellow shirt in this one meaning that this episode could've taken place before the last one but chances are the writers just don't care

Season 4, Episode 15: One Of Us

- We don't see Leo in his uniform in this episode but looking at the extras nobody is wearing the yellow shirt. In Season 2, Episode 12: Space Elevator all of the students moved up a colour and Leo two colours meaning that this episode takes place after the Space Elevator one definitely

- Bree says that she has 30 more years of being really cute. idk what this could tell us about her age currently but i'm taking what i can get

Season 4, Episode 18: The Curse of the Screaming Skull

- It's their first halloween at the Academy

Season 4, Episode 19: On The Edge Part 1

- Leo says that Chase named himself mission leader when he was 14 and Chase corrects him and says that he was 12. This could indicate that the trios first mission was when Chase was 14 and that's why Leo thought he named himself leader then

Season 4, Episode 20: On The Edge Part 2

- It's been two weeks since the last episode

Season 4, Episode 22: And Then There Were Four

- In the episode On The Edge, Leo becomes a mentor but for this episode he is back in his students uniform for whatever reason meaning that this episode could've taken place before On The Edge

- Douglas says that Daniel was just a baby the day that Donald took Adam Bree and Chase from him meaning that when Donald took the kids Daniel already existed

- Daniel is thirteen in this episode WHICH MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. Donald said in You Posted What!?! that he had Adam Bree and Chase for 16 years. this episode takes place at least a year after that one meaning that it should've been no less then 17 years since Donald took Adam Bree and Chase in. If Daniel already existed when Donald did this (which he did) then he should be at least 17 years old

- Bree refers to her, Adam and Chase as teenagers so they all had to have been under the age of 19 and since it was said before that Donald must've had the trio for 17 years at this point their ages should be Adam: 19 Bree: 18 and Chase: 17

- It's said that the siblings threw Chase a 16th birthday party without inviting Chase (ouch) meaning that Chase is at least 16 years old

Season 4, Episode 23: Space Colony Part 1

- Perry says that she snuck up to space with the rest of the colonists when they were sent up. The colonists have been in space for almost a month and Perrys most recent appearance was in Season 4, Episode 21: Ultimate Tailgate Challenge, meaning that it has been at least a month since that episode took place

Season 4, Episode 25: The Vanishing Part 1

- Leo is back in his mentor outfit

- Bree says that she's a teenager and doesn't even have her drivers licence yet but there's no way i'm believing that she's under the age of 16 so i'm just gonna guess that she didn't have a chance to take any tests yet

Lab Rats Elite Force

Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise Of Five

- Donald says that he used to play in the subway 40 years ago. imma say that this means that he's at least 45 years old

Season 1, Episode 3: Power Play

- Bree says that there's three teenage boys living in the penthouse meaning that Chase, Kaz and Olivier are all still teenagers

Season 1, Episode 8: Coming Through in the Clutch

- The episode is focused on an Olympic send off event where fans can go and meet Olympians before they go to the Olympic games in Rio. They mention the Olympics being the ones held in Rio multiple times throughout the episode. The Rio Olympics were held in 2016 meaning that this episode takes place sometime in the summer of 2016 making this 4 years after the first episode of Lab Rats

- Bob says that he's 14 now meaning that he wasn't during season 4 of Lab Rats

Season 1, Episode 9: The Intruder

- Aj is 10 years old

- Chase says that his birthday is August 5th

Season 1, Episode 13: Sheep-Shifting

- It's Halloween and is implied to be the Elite Forces first Halloween together

- Bree says that she's 17 (idk how)

Season 1, Episode 15: They Grow Up So Fast

- Tasha visits in this episode with Naomi. During the Season 4 finale Tasha tells the family that she's pregnant and that it's a girl. The earliest you have to be to find out the sex of your baby is around 14 weeks but Doctors generally recommend waiting until 19-20 weeks (around 4 months.) Tasha does not seem to be showing at all during the season 4 finale (probably because the actress Angel wasn't pregnant and they didn't see the need to have her wear some kind of fake bump or anything since she wasn't so far in) and you start showing around 16-20 weeks leading me to believe that she was around 14-16 weeks pregnant at the time which is around 3 months meaning that Tasha had around 6 months until Naomi was born. Tasha says that she "hasn't had a moment to herself in 11 months meaning that Naomi is 11 months old in this episode. meaning that it's been around 17 months (a year and 5 months) since Lab Rats ended

- Namoi being 11 months old means that it must've been at least that long since the Elite Force was brought together as during Season 1, Episode 5: Need For Speed Douglas says that Donald isn't with the Elite Force because he wanted to be with Tasha when the baby arrived and during Season 1, Episode 7: The List Donald send the Elite Force a box of their old things as he was turning the lab into a nursery for the new baby. Although they never say if Naomi had been born yet.

Notes

I originally had the idea of making some form of a timeline of events to try to get something out of all of this but I literally did not have enough brain cells to do so. If you want to feel free though

I don't know why I did this. For some reason I just find this fun but I'm sure that we can all agree that this timeline is fucked and makes no sense whatsoever.

Anyways... i hope you got something out of reading all of this if you did *thumbs up emoji*