#actually i could i've been keeping counts of the number of times i've seen the three movies but anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mlqueen89 · 2 months ago

Text

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).

word count: 9,776

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service.

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake.

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes.

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.”

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told.

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work.

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas.

“It doesn’t.”

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan.

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.”

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?”

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.”

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to.

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close.

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?”

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?”

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them.

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink.

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.”

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?”

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.”

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.”

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.”

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.”

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level.

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.”

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.”

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.”

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—”

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?”

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt.

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left.

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base.

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him.

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad.

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.”

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.”

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.”

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.”

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign.

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.

“Need a hand?”

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.

Hangman.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely.

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment.

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—”

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?”

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups?

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.”

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did.

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good.

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.”

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact.

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.”

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her.

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.”

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door.

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week.

“305.”

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing.

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door.

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke.

“Hey, Rio.”

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere.

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick.

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.”

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.”

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.”

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?”

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.”

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade.

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy.

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between.

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.”

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.”

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side.

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.”

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….”

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead.

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.”

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?”

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?”

“You know me, Mav—news is news.”

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm.

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.”

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type.

And there it was: the other shoe.

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?”

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.”

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.”

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.”

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.”

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.”

“Thanks.”

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.”

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying.

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.”

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden.

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime.

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign.

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh.

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best.

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight.

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together.

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug.

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O.

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again.

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner.

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter.

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day.

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?”

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.”

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,”

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin��, Bradshaw?”

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad.

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?”

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?”

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?”

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.”

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.”

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm.

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.”

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.”

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.”

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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sissylittlefeather · 6 months ago

Text

I'm sorry this took me a million years to write @sloppiest-of-jos! Anyway, I hope it lives up to what you were wanting!

Searching for You

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Word count: ~2.5k

"Elvis, you have a WIFE and a CHILD. Tell me again how you think this could possibly work out?!" Elvis sits in a chair, watching you pace around the room from behind his silver sunglasses.

"Honey, I've told you and told you. Those are my problems, not yours. I love you. I want you." He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand gently and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. You look up at him and almost melt. Then, you yank your hand away and walk across the room.

"No! This has gone on for way too long." Memories of how you met on the set of the Singer special in '68 come screaming back to you. You think about him noticing you, a humble back up dancer for the bordello scene. He had walked straight to you and asked your name, not even bothering to pretend like he didn't like you. You'd seen him with the other girls and couldn't believe he was actually talking to you. But something about you caught his attention and he wasn't letting you get away. He invited you up to his dressing room after filming was finished and it didn't take long at all for you to end up naked on the couch, squirming as he brought you pleasure you had only ever dreamed about.

That was two years ago.

No matter how hard the two of you tried, you couldn't stay away from each other. The space between you was electric and you made ways to be together as often as possible, despite his marital status and your guilt. You fell hard and fast for him and he insisted he felt the same way, but he never entertained the possibility of ending his marriage.

On this particular occasion, you pace the floor half-dressed insisting this will be the last time. You're leaving California, removing yourself from the equation, and he is not pleased. Once you pull on the rest of your clothes, you point your shoe at him and yell.

"I'm done, Elvis. I'm done with being your back up girl to keep you company when your wife is gone. It hurts too much."

"Honey, it's not like that! You're the one I want! If anything, she's the back up girl."

"Then why won't you leave her?"

"I-I I can't."

"Yeah." You stuff your shoes on your feet and head for the door. "Goodbye, Elvis."

This isn't the first time you've had this argument, by far, but what Elvis doesn't know is that this time you're really leaving. You pack up all your things with tears streaming down your cheeks and head for home. The drive is long, but you've hit the end of your capacity for loving Elvis like this. You wonder how long it'll take him to figure out you're gone. Will he even care?

******

Elvis gives you two weeks to get over this most recent fight, sure that all he has to do is call you when Priscilla goes out of town. But when he does, your phone's been cut off. He hangs up and looks at the receiver in confusion. Surely you didn't actually leave.

He gets in his car and drives to your apartment. Maybe you've just changed your number and he needs to appeal to you in person. But when he knocks on your door, a man he doesn't recognize answers. He gets over his initial wave of jealousy and asks about you.

"Uh, I'm looking for y/n?"

"No one here by that name. Wait are you-?"

"Thanks." Elvis turns and walks quickly back to his car before the guy can ask him for anything.

When he gets back to his house, he calls all of his Memphis mafia into the living room and gives them an assignment. They need to find you and he wants it done yesterday. The guys all look at each other in mild panic and then head out to see what they can do while Elvis sits on the couch smoking a cigarillo trying to process his shock. You're really gone. Where on earth did you go?

******

After a week of Elvis wracking his brain and the guys bribing neighbors and friends, Sonny finally has a breakthrough.

"I was able to get ahold of her best friend at work."

"Yeah, and?"

"She went home to Kentucky."

"Home to Kentucky. Where in Kentucky?"

"She didn't know, but she said she knew it wasn't far from Nashville." Elvis rolls his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean?! There are a lot of places in Kentucky that aren't far from Nashville. How does she define far?" Sonny looks at the ground and shakes his head.

"I don't know, boss. That's all she knew."

"Goddamnit." Elvis kicks the nearest table and Sonny looks at him hard.

"Might be time to give up on this one." Elvis meets his eyes with his eyebrows raised and then shakes his head.

"No. She's... no." He turns and heads for his bedroom. When he comes back with a suitcase, Sonny tries to stop him.

"Where you goin'?"

"Well, I guess I'm going somewhere in Kentucky that's not far from Nashville."

"You're really gonna go after her then?"

"Yes." Elvis gets in his car and starts on the road East towards Kentucky and you.

******

When Elvis finally makes it to Kentucky, he drives from small town to small town looking for you. He has a picture of you that he took one night that he shows to people. He has lots of pictures of you, but this is the only one appropriate for public consumption. He thanks God that he thought to take one with your clothes on one time. Honestly, it's his favorite photo of you because it's so naturally beautiful, your smile gentle and your hair a little messy from lovemaking.

The more he looks for you, the more it becomes apparent how much he loves you. He's been saying it for a while, but the emptiness he experiences at not knowing how to find you makes him know exactly how true it is. He loves you so much that he's driving around Kentucky just to find you again. How did he think he could give you up?

He's starting to lose hope when he comes across a preacher in a small town called Franklin. Exhausted and hopeless, he shows him the picture of you.

"That's y/n!"

"Yes!" Elvis looks up, shocked. "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I baptized her, didn't I?" Elvis laughs and hugs the man.

"Is she here? Where can I find her?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but if she's in town, she'll be at her parents' house." He gives Elvis the address just as it begins to rain. For the first time in weeks, Elvis is filled with hope and he decides he'll do anything to get you back.

He pulls up in front of the address that the preacher gave him and his heart beats wildly. He's so close to being with you again. The steady rain soaks him to the bone and he knocks on your front door and waits for someone to open it.

You see him through the windows and panic. How the hell did he find you here?! You know you won't be able to resist him if he talks to you, so you run outside and jump in your car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

But he sees you and tries to run to the car.

"Honey, wait! I just wanna talk to ya!" You focus on the road ahead and step on the gas to get away. Elvis runs back to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, starting the engine and throwing it in drive. He tries to catch up to you, but you're driving like a crazy person. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and he starts to worry about you driving like this. As you head out of town, your car spins off the road into a ditch and he realizes he was right to be concerned. Thankfully, because of the spinning, you don't hit the ditch too hard. He parks and jumps out of the car to run to you. You manage to get the door open and stumble out.

That's when you feel strong arms around you. The familiarity of them makes you cry and you shake with sobs as he holds you. He stands there in the soft rain, stroking your hair and whispering to you.

"You're okay, honey. I've got you. You're okay." After several minutes of this, you pull away from him and yell.

"What are you doing here Elvis?!"

"I needed to see you."

"Why?!" He pushes a piece of rain-soaked hair behind your ear.

"Because I love you, baby." You look up at him, your eyes wide as the rain continues to fall on you both.

"No! I'm not falling into this with you again!"

"Honey, I drove across the country to find you. Is that not enough to prove that I'm serious?!"

"Where's your wife, Elvis?" He groans and pulls his wedding ring off of his finger.

"I don't care." He turns and throws the ring into the patch of trees and you gasp.

"Elvis, that was worth a lot of money!"

"Maybe, but I don't want it anymore. I don't want her anymore. I want you, ya stubborn brat."

"Why?" He rolls his eyes. His patience is wearing thin as the two of you stand in the cold rain together.

"Because I'm so in love with you I can't even think straight when you're not around."

"I don't believe you."

"Y/n! Do you know how many small towns I've been to in Kentucky looking for you?! I love you so much I can't even imagine my life without you." You contemplate what he's saying. This is a long road to travel for casual sex. Maybe he does love you as much as he says he does, but there's still too many complications.

"How, Elvis-?"

"I'm leaving Priscilla." Your heart stops. Is he serious? "I can't live another minute without you. You're all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Honey, I will do anything to prove to you that I want you and no one else."

You look up at him, your heart so full of love for him that you feel like it might burst.

"You'd really do that? Leave your wife and the mother of your child. For me?"

"Yes. I should never have married her in the first place."

"Elvis..."

"All my life I've been searching for you. I just didn't know it. I should've waited. But I'm here now and I'm telling you. I love you more than life itself. Let me love you, honey."

And then you utter two syllables that will change your life forever.

"Okay." In the blink of an eye, he wraps himself around you, his mouth pressed to yours in a passionate kiss. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. The rain has softened, so he carries you to the hood of his car and sets your bottom down. You've never kissed anyone with such fervor before. It's like you're trying to melt into one another with the way you press yourselves together. You arch your back as he rolls his hips forward into you, his erection pushing against you through his pants. He runs his hands up your thighs and pulls your panties down under your mini skirt. His thumb runs up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top and he begins to rub circles there. You drop your head backwards and moan loudly. Without another thought, you unzip his pants and pull his cock out, stroking it slowly with your hand. He groans and kisses down your neck, while you pull him to you and run the tip of his dick up and down your entrance. He mutters against your lips.

"You're such a tease, honey."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God, I really do. So fucking much." He thrusts his hips forward and pushes into you, almost filling you in one motion. You cry out with pleasure when he does and lean back against the car. He pulls out and thrusts forward again, grunting. This time his hips meet yours as his entire cock is inside you. He makes a sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a moan and begins to slide in and out of you, pounding you to the steady rhythm of the rain.

The sensation of him slamming against you is enough to push you over the edge and you tumble headfirst into an intense orgasm, moaning and writhing and pulsing around him.

"Fuck, honey, I love you." You pull him down on top of you and whisper in his ear.

"I love you too." It's the first time you've ever said it back to him. He whimpers and kisses down your neck to your cleavage, never changing his steady pace of pumping into you. You can tell by the way his thrusting becomes more erratic that he's getting close too.

Finally, he slams into you hard and shudders against you, filling you with ropes of cum. It's also the first time he's ever cum inside you: another indicator that he's serious about you.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as he collapses on top of you, spent and breathing heavily. He slides out of you and stands up, pulling you into a sitting position on the hood of his car.

"Come home with me, honey." He kisses your cheek affectionately and then backs up to look you in the eye, his blues ones seeing straight through to your soul. You couldn't tell him no even if you wanted to.

"I gave up my apartment."

"I want you to live with me." You raise your eyebrows.

"You still have a wife."

"I won't for long. I'll buy us a house. Just please say you'll come home with me." You nod and lean your forehead against his chest.

"I'm yours, Elvis." He tips your chin up to look at him.

"And I'm yours." He kisses your lips tenderly. "Now come on. Let's get out of the rain."

He drives you back to your parents' house, where you both change into dry clothes and settle on the couch together. Surprisingly, he's perfectly comfortable there with your mom and dad. He stays for a few days with you, letting you give him the grand tour of your hometown. Eventually, you head back to California together. Your car is totaled, so he promises to buy you a new one once you get home.

He wastes no time in leaving Priscilla and starting divorce proceedings. In the meantime, he buys the two of you a cozy little love nest and you're perfectly happy there with him.

The Kentucky rain was a baptism of sorts and you both came out of it changed for the better. It's not always smooth sailing, he is Elvis Presley after all, but you're happy more often than not. You never run away again, though you know he'd chase you if you did. And every time it rains, he holds you close and you remember the cold Kentucky rain.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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il-miele-che-scrive · 1 year ago

Text

lando norris x reader

based on this request (because I take requests and I have to make it everyone's business): Hi not sure if you take requests but in case you do could you write reader x lando where y/n is a celebrity or an influencer and she drops subtle hints at who is her new bf maybe some fun facts about him like "oh he hates fish and I'm making a lot of fish for christmas" and eventually the fans are like "guys it's totally lando"

words count: 2.5k + fans' tweets at the end

author's note: my first request and it was so fun to write 🥹 also added a hospital scene from the time of Vegas GP so we could experience a bit of protective Y/n and painkillers-high Lando (I forgot about a fish scene)

edit: I've just realized I've messed up the dates so let's pretend the award thingie was in '23 instead of '22

A secret boyfriend

It was a normal Tuesday of 2023 when Y/n Y/l/n and Lando Norris met. Well, not so normal since it was the day Y/n won the first award in her musical career, and Lando had his first debut as an award presenter.

"And the winner is..." He opened the envelope and flipped it, as he held it upside down. "Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n couldn't believe it at first. She looked at her best friend with tears in her eyes. They hugged before Y/n stood up and got on her way to the scene, still questioning if she actually heard her name or was it her mind playing tricks on her.

"Thank you," Y/n sent Lando a smile as he handed her the award, "are you sure it's for me?" She joked, trying to mask the anxiety she felt from the fact that now she had to give a speech while everyone watched.

"Absolutely, it's all yours. Well deserved." Lando said feeling a bit starstruck from being so close to one of his favorite singers.

Just this one simple interaction was enough for both Y/n's and Lando's fanbases to raise suspicions. However, what was unavailable to the fans' eyes were Y/n and Lando's interaction at the after party. Later the same evening, he approached her.

"Hey, congratulations again." He said with a grin on his face. "Your music is amazing, I couldn't imagine you not winning this award."

"Stop with the compliments, I'm gonna blush." Y/n laughed. "Nice to meet you. Lando Norris, isn't it?"

"Yeah, do you watch Formula One?"

"I'm going to be honest from the beginning and admit I did not, but I did my research and I just might start being a fan."

"If you're ever down for hearing firsthand gossip straight from the track, I'm at your service."

"I'd love to hear all the gossip over a coffe sometime."

"Let me give you my number then and I'll arrange something."

And so a few days later they had a coffee date. The date marked the beginning of a carefully hidden romance. They wanted to keep it a secret from the public eye, not wanting people prying on them, trying to estimate how long they'll last.

Keeping the relationship secret somehow came easy to them. They were seen on the coffee date indeed, however they made sure to have the next dates in private. The fans on both sides were literally clueless to the whole ongoing romance. Y/n had her tour, Lando had his races and it wasn't even a little bit suspicious how a lot concerts aligned with race weekends.

Unfortunately, one day Y/n went live on Instagram with her best friend. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n gave away the big secret.

"You know, guys, we're gonna use lives as a way to spend time together," she joked, "I've been feeling a bit abandoned since Y/n has been spending so much time with her boyfriend. Even on tour and with his busy schedule, can you believe this?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "Y/f/n!" She scolded her friend.

"What? It's a joke, no worries, I can see you're finally happy and I'm happy for you!"

"Y/f/n! You weren't supposed to say that!"

But the damage was already done. There was nothing Y/n could say to save the situation. So instead she decided to start dropping subtle hints for the fans to guess. Maybe it was the right time to make the relationship public after five months. They couldn't hide it forever.

Y/n started the hint game when she was on Jimmy Fallon's show.

"Y/n Y/l/n, everybody!" Jimmy announced when the girl walked in and sat down on the armchair. "I haven't seen you in a year and so much happened during this time!"

"I know, I know," Y/n said with a smile. "I'm so glad I could make a quick pit stop here on my way to Montreal."

"I'm happy to have you here. You won an award, you got a boyfriend. How- how did that happen?"

Y/n chuckled at Jimmy's question, realizing it was the perfect opportunity to play the hint game. "Oh, life takes unexpected turns and sometimes you find yourself on a fast track to happiness."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "Anything you'd like to share about this mystery man?"

"You know, Jimmy, I've finally found someone who knows how to navigate the twists and turns in life."

The audience laughed and the speculations among fans skyrocketed as they tried to connect the dots from Y/n's playful hints.

The other time, Y/n was on a popular radio show. The host couldn't help but ask about the latest reveal of a big secret.

"You were left hurting really badly after your previous relationship," he spoke, "it's really good to see you finally happy."

"It was a big thing for me. Still is." The girl admitted. "My previous relationship made it hard to open up to a man like that again."

"What made you do it eventually then?"

"I decided life is too short for keeping things in the slow lane," Y/n chuckled, "and when you meet someone that can belt out a Taylor Swift song with the same passion as you, it's hard not to fall for them."

"So your mystery man is a Swiftie too? Any chance we might know him?"

"Oh, I bet many people who are listening right now would know him."

"Now you got us all intrigued, your fans wouldn't forgive me if I didn't ask for more."

Y/n grinned, "Well, he's practically flawless, except for one little detail. He's a scorpio. And let me tell you, when we're playing our silly little racing video games, his competitive scorpio side really comes out. It's all fun and games until his racing pride is at stake."

The host laughed. "I'm sure fans are already trying to guess who this mystery gamer is. And you, are you competitive?"

"Yes, totally. He's more experienced than I am, but it doesn't mean I won't try my hardest to beat him."

"Is there any trait you don't share?"

The girl nodded, "Yes, one thing I'm secretly jealous of. He's quite known for being able to fall asleep in the most uncomfortable conditions. I wish I could do that. I'm all about pillows and comfy blankets, but he can just doze off anywhere, anytime."

A few days later, in the warmth of Lando's bedroom, surrounded by the hum of city life outside the windows, Y/n brought up the topic with a playful glint in her eyes.

"You know, Lando, fans have been buzzing lately. It's quite entertaining."

"Well, you have started this yourself," Lando laughed, laying his head in his girlfriend's lap.

"Not me, it was Y/f/n. I just went with it and turned it into something fun for myself." Y/n defended herself. Her fingers started gently playing with Lando's hair.

"You do seem to be having a great time, leading your fans on and all that," he joked. "Are there chances they'll solve your mystery anytime soon?"

"I've seen a few tweets accusing you of being my secret boyfriend, but most people don't really believe that."

"What?" He sit up dramatically. He continued in a fake-offended voice. "Do they think I'm not good enough?"

Y/n giggled.

Lando's mock offense turned into a playful pout. "I can't believe they're doubting my boyfriend potential. I mean, come on, look at me!" He gestured theatrically at himself.

Y/n burst into laughter, "Maybe we should give them a little more to work with, stir the pot a bit."

Lando leaned in, placing a quick kiss on Y/n's cheek. "You're a master of turning chaos into entertainment, you know that?"

"It's quite a compliment, coming from a Formula One driver."

Lando flashed a grin. "Well, we both have our talents, don't we? Maybe we should drop some subtle hints during a race?"

And so they waited months for the Grand Prix in Vegas, because that was where they could start rumours about getting married. Sure, they could get married spontaneously anywhere, but there was no better place than Las Vegas.

Thankfully they managed to keep the relationship secret all these months, breadcrumbing Y/n's fans. After the Vegas GP, Y/n and Lando where supposed to go for an afterparty, get 'drunk' and then 'married'.

Unfortunately, they plans changed the direction a bit with Lando's crash. Y/n's heart sank as she watched the unfolding drama on the big screens. The thrill of the race was replaced with concern for Lando's well-being. Plans for the afterparty and the playful hints about a fake marriage suddenly didn't matter anymore.

Emergency crews rushed onto the track, the anxious seconds felt like an eternity as they worked to help Lando get out of his racing car. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, the world around her blurring. The fact that he managed to walk away from the car was a small comfort.

Y/n's phone buzzed moment after Lando disappeared from her sight.

from: Lando

I'm okay, they're taking me to st vincent's hospital. Will update you soon. Love you xx

to: Lando

Be there in a second, see you soon

A shaky exhale escaped Y/n, she felt slightly relief and ran towards the exit. She was sure Lando wasn't okay, not after that crash, but at least he was conscious and walking on his own (although it could be the adrenaline). A moment later, when Y/n got into her own car, her phone buzzed again.

from: Lando

Yknow you could post a pic from the hospital, that would stir the pot

Y/n smiled at the massage. If he could think of that, he might had been better than she thought.

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred as she drove through the city streets, trying to get to the hospital as quick as possible. Despite the speed, the journey seemed to stretch in time.

Arriving at St. Vincent's hospital, Y/n rushed through the entrance, her heart pounding. The reception area looked like a maze in her anxious state, but she managed to find a nurse.

"I'm here for Lando Norris," the girl said.

The nurse looked her up and down. "Are you his family?"

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Then, unfortunately, I cannot let you see him."

"His family is in Europe, I'm the closest to family you can get here in Vegas."

"The closest, but not family. I'll ask you nicely to wait here for further information."

Y/n nodded with an angry expression on her face. She sat down in the waiting room, pulling out her phone and dialing the number of her manager.

"Hey, Mia," the singer said. "I need you to do something." Urgency and frustration were visible in her voice.

"What's going on, Y/n? Are you okay?" Mia's concerned voice came through the line.

"It's Lando. He's been in a crash during the race in Vegas, and they've taken him to St. Vincent's Hospital. I'm here, but they won't let me in because I'm not 'family.' That's so stupid."

"I'm sorry, Y/n, but I still don't see what you want me to do."

"I want you to make a donation for the hospital from my account. Send them like $100,000. I think it'll be enough to let me in."

"Okay, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Mia. I appreciate it more than you know."

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Anxiety lingered in the air. But there was no way they wouldn't let her in after that.

Y/n didn't know how much time had passed. She felt as if all she did was staring at a wall in front of her, ocassionally moving her eyes to the floor or the ceiling. She was fidgeting with her fingers as the same nurse approached her.

"Miss Y/l/n, you're allowed to see Mr Norris in the room 305."

Without a word, Y/n rushed to the room. She found Lando lying in the hospital bed, his gaze turning towards the door as she walked in.

"Lando." Y/n breathed his name, rushing to his side and taking his hand in hers. "I was so worried. And they didn't want to let me in at first."

He managed a dazed smile, his eyes slightly glazed. "Hey, you're real, right? This isn't happening in my head?"

Y/n chuckled. "Yes, I'm real. It's me."

He squinted at her. "You sure? You look like a beautiful hallucination."

"Well, if I'm a hallucination, at least a beautiful one."

"I feel like I'm floating on marshmallow clouds, but you're the most beautiful marshmallow I've ever seen."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "I think you might be on some strong painkillers, love."

"Ah, that explains the marshmallows. They're having a party in my head," Lando said with a dreamy expression.

Y/n burst into laughter, the tension of the earlier moments disappearing in the room.

"Did you know," Lando continued, "that racing is like trying to catch a rainbow? And if you're lucky, you might find a pot of gold at the end."

"Is there an Irish leprechaun as well?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe that's who's been guiding me all this time."

"You gotta ask him to make the rainbow less slippery next time then."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll have a serious talk with him. No more slippery rainbows, only smooth, marshmallow clouds."

As they joked around, Y/n couldn't ignore the quiet concern for Lando's well-being. She gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You scared me, you know? Seeing you crash like that."

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise I'll be more careful next time. But you have to promise me something too.""

"What is it?"

"You'll visit me in the marshmallow cloud world sometimes. It gets lonely up there."

Y/n laughed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll visit anytime you want."

"You know, even in the middle of all this craziness, having you here feels like finding that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

As the night carried on, the hospital room became a cocoon shielding them from everything that layed outside its walls. Y/n found herself falling asleep on an armchai next to Lando's bed.

In the quiet ambiance of the night, Lando's mind wandered through the whimsical landscapes of his medication-induced thoughts. He couldn't help but marvel at the coincidence that brought Y/n into his life.

It all started with handing her an award. It seemed like it happened a whole lifetime ago and now, there they were, in the middle of marshmallow clouds.

Y/n, nestled in the armchair, breathed softly in her sleep, completely unaware of Lando's reflections. Soon enough, Lando allowed himself to succumb to the gentle pull of sleep as well.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #f1 x y/n #lando norris x y/n

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bu-blegh-ost · 1 year ago

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The time has finally come, @girlsonlytreehouse !!!

Today I shall share with you the fruits of my work. But first, allow me to take you on a journey I myself have been through while counting all of this shit down.

First things first, I decided to count the rolls in the context of the characters rather than the people playing them, simply because the luck of the actual people could not be measured accurately if I only take Riptide into consideration (and also I thought it would be more fun). The guys have several different campaigns, some that I do not have access to, so I've decided to seperate all their Riptide rolls into characters they play instead, cause then we can clearly see which character is the luckiest. But ofc if you want this to be attributed differently, the data remains unchanged, so that way you all can interpret the results however you wanted and still have all the info you need on hand.

Another issue were the advantage/disadvantage rolls. When a character rolls at advantage, they roll twice and the only roll that counts is the one that was higher, while the other is discarded and the opposite goes for disadvantage. So for example if you roll at Disadvantage and you roll a nat 20 and a 2, that nat 20 technically doesn't matter. Despite that I decided to count each adv/disadv roll anyway, because despite the fact that it does not count, it was still physically ROLLED, which means it contributes to the character's overall pool of luck. I tried to separate them at first so you guys can make your own decision whether to add them or not, but in the end I decided against it cause it was insanely hard to keep up with. There were just too many and too often, which led me to believe that it was fair enough to count everything as long as they actually rolled a dice.

Which brings me to the last complication, which is of course Gillion's Prophetic Screwup. At the beginning of the campaign Gillion was able to exchange anything that he actually rolled into a nat 20, and in return the DM can change any roll he does afterwards into a nat 1. That way there was supposed to be an equal number of wild unrolled nat 20's and nat 1's to balance Gillion out back to 0, but it didn't turn out this way. In more cases than not, Grizzly would either forget or fail to find a good place to screw Gillion over, so the ability bacame much too unbalanced. So they changed it somwhere in the middle of Edison Kingdom Arc. From then on, if Gill rolled anything from 1-10 it would automatically become a nat 1, and if he rolled from 11-20, that'd be a nat 20 instead. Either way these rolls had nothing to do with luck, as he wasn't actually rolling anything, thus I decided not to count these 'artificial' nat 20's/1's. However I did keep track of them nonetheless and I'll still give you the number of those, just separately, and from then on you guys can make your own decision on whether or not you wish to count it.

OOOFFF ALRIGHT.

Without further ado, here are the nat 20's results (up to ep106):

Gillion: 52

Chip: 58

Jay: 55

Goobleck: 8

Surprised? Yeah I was as well. First things first I never expected this to be this close. And never in my right mind could I possibly predict that it would he CHIP of all people to have the highest score here. But I've seen it with my own eyes. And tell you what. Jay had this in the bag for most of the damn series. She would consistently roll good and always when you need a good roll the most. There were times when she would have such a massive lead it was unthinkable she could loose it. But then she would just kinda...stop rolling good for a bit and allow the other two to catch up. It just wasn't as visble if you don't pay much attention, but I thought it to be cute. It's as she was waiting for them <3 But she was still mostly leading. It was only the current arc that made Chip surpass her. After his terrible luck in Feywilde, he bounced back so strongly right after, that he managed to jump in front of the luck queen herself.

And now I bet you're curious about the other side of the coin. Give it up for natural 1's!:

Gillion: 55

Chip: 53

Jay: 52

Goobleck: 1

You see, I kind of expected it to be Gill, but I need you guys to know that this wasn't the case at all times. Jay? Yes. If there is one thing that's consistent is that she had the lowest amount of natural 1s at all times almost, but the person that was suffering from nat 1 curse for a long while was Chip. In the Feywilde Arc he would be so far ahead of everyone, that I was genuinely sure that there is no way anyone catches up to him. But then he popped off in the next arc with nat 20's and Gillion? Oh my gosh, Gillion didn't disappoint. I've never seen a man fail this much let me tell you XD He ended up with the least nat 20's as well, but I thought the difference would be much higher until he didn't roll 4 fucking nat 20s in ep 100 and then this double nat 20 attack roll in the Black Sea whduihdius AND HE CAUGHT UP AS WELL, more or less.

Idunno, maybe this is just how luck works, but it truly seems that the trio shares their successes and burdens almost equally. They support each other and in return fate has their backs as well. Honestly I couldn't have hoped for better results. Also can we give shout out to Goobleck, the true MVP? He's been on the show only for a while but look at this nat1 - nat20 ratio!!! Go goop man goo!!!

So now for the additional stuff that I also counted just for fun:

*Prophethic screwup nats:

Before the rules changed Gillion replaced 8 of his rolls into natural 20s, and in return Grizzly replaced 3 of his rolls into natural 1s.

After the rules changed he only got high enough number for 4 nat 20s, and a low enough number for 7 nat 1s.

So that together makes additional 12 nat 20s and 10 nat 1s from the prophetic screwup alone. I don't think they should be added, but the numbers are there so feel free to do whatever you want with them :)

Downs and death saves:

Throughout the campaign Gillion went down 14 times and rolled 8 death saves.

Chip went down 6 times and rolled 4 death saves.

Jay went down 4 times and rolled 3 death saves.

No shocker here, Gillion dies a lot XD

Knights:

In their journey Gillion knighted 4 people: Julien Booker, Clorton, Garrieth and Duke.

Corruption score:

Thus far each character has the following amount of corruption points (Black Sea):

Gillion: 0

Chip: 2

Jay: 3

Queen: 1

Gryffon: 2 (i think, unsure abt that one, may edit later XD)

Earl: 1

That is all I have for now. I may be clinically insane :)

Good day to everyone and I hope you found this data interesting. Take care <3

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #gillion jrwi #chip jrwi #jay jrwi #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi goobleck #math????#i guess #insane autistic person talks about statistics for a looong time #if anyone wants something else counted i' m right here fam #GIVE ME A REASON TO REWATCH ALL OF RIPTIDE FOR THE FOURTH TIME I DARE YOU

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cyrdling · 2 months ago

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Hi! I like your writing a lot!!

Can I please request Aizawa x reader who is insecure. She has a friend who is absolutely STUNNING and is a really nice person. She asks Aizawa if he thinks she is attractive but not to start a fight, just because she is having a moment of low self-esteem. She is convinced he wouldn't have liked her if he met her friend at the same time as her.

OPTOMETRY: Oneshot

a/n: YIPPEEE I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE ONE OF THESE

summary: hurt/comfort. insecure gn!reader, but the friend is described with she/her and "girl". i cried a little writing this

your friend is so, so kind. so heart-achingly kind to you that you feel terrible for being jealous, but what can you do? she's so pretty that it leaves a pit in your stomach, no matter what. it's not like you can stop your thoughts, either- you'll be thinking about going to the store or getting food, and boom, suddenly you feel like you're rotting from the inside out. you can't even blame her for it either- she's just pretty. so what?

well, the so what of it is that you... you're insecure. sure, you don't blame the girl for being easy on the eyes, but it doesn't really help. whenever you're out with her, random people always come up to her, telling her she's so pretty, asking for her number, buying her drinks- and you're just sat by her side, sulking as you nurse your drink and taking count of the nearest exits, hoping neither of them would notice if you just left. however, one person did notice, every single time- even if you had no clue about it. your darling boyfriend, shota aizawa.

now, to be fair, shota notices more than most. he's a pro hero, obviously, and he definitely notices how you begin to crumple in on yourself when your friend stands at your side. he's not stupid- he sees people ogling her and calculating just how quickly they can get a date with her, but today it's bad.

today, you were at a restaurant- although it seems to be more of a bar at times- with shota and your friend. your friend was at the bar, and shota was in a booth since the seats were much more comfortable than the stools at the bar. you were between them, but you kept noticing random people walking up and talking to your friend, but a striking number of zero came up to you. while she had multiple men fawning over her, you had a grand total of none. shota noticed this, obviously, and at first, he was happy- proud, even- that enough people saw you were taken to just steer clear. however, he also noticed nobody even came up to you to just talk, even if it wasn't a flirting thing. his first thought was, and i quote, "these people wouldn't know beauty even if it slapped them across the face." and, by god, was he right.

eventually, you left with shota, and you decided to bring it up on the way home, thinking he didn't even notice. you asked him, "baby, do you... do you think i'm pretty? like actually pretty, not just the whole being in love with me thing," and he, quite literally, flinched. you thought he had been hiding this from you but... but he wasn't. you just couldn't see why he would.

he pulled the car over on the side of the road, and looked over at you. you were looking away, out the window, at the world that you wished to escape to now that you realized the intense awkwardness of the situation. he placed his hand on your cheek, and guided your face towards him, sighing when he could see your face. "honey, i don't think i've seen anyone who could be more beautiful than you are," he smiled, and by this point you began to cry, but he continued, "i mean this with no exaggeration, i would be a soldier in the most brutal battles just so i could catch a glimpse of your face, alright? do you hear me?" he says, in almost a whisper- something only you could hear.

oh, what a thing for him to say on the side of the highway. you melt, then, and he maneuvers your position so that you're comfortable as he kisses your forehead. as he does so, he keeps whispering how your freckles and moles rival every star in the universe, how your eyes hold the stories of all that came before you, how your legs have carried you so far and will continue to do so for even farther, how your nose defines your face in a way that inherently ties each feature of your face together, how your hair surrounds your face like the halo of an angel, how your voice has soothed his ailments and carried him through the hardships of life, how your mind is so intricate that he could just listen to you for days on end, even if you say some things repeatedly. he says all of this like he was telling you the sky was blue and grass was green. he told you this as though he was explaining what a wooden cube looked like to someone who couldn't see it- and, based on how he spoke to you, you'd expect him to take you to an optometrist if you didn't believe him. it was just the natural progression, in a way. if he couldn't convince you that you were beautiful, he'd just have to get your eyes checked.

just as quickly as it started, it ends. shota wipes your tears, and holds your hand on the way home- not an awkward or nervous silence like before, oh no, but being comfortable as the dust settles in your hearts. his hand gently caresses the back of yours like it's second nature, and you're not even sure he's aware he's doing it. the night ends with a movie and very, very cozy cuddles- back rubs included.

please reblog if you liked this one!

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #mha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shōta #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #dividers by animatedglittergraphics n more #banner by saradika graphics #hurt/comfort

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year ago

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silence is deafening - mason mount

summary: after a fight with Mason digs up memories she'd rather forget, Y/N is left to deal with trauma from her past and decide if she will let Mason in

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 5.1k

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/comfort, couple fight, !! in-depth description of childhood trauma !!, lack of communication, supportive Mase, everything will eventually be okay-- you all know I can't write a sad ending, not proofread (I'm so sorry)

requested: yes!! here

notes: back with another request!!! This one has been sitting in my inbox for a LONG time!! I've had the draft halfway written for SO long, but couldn't decide how to finish it until I was struck with a bit of inspiration earlier this week! I hope you all enjoy it!!

You rested your elbow on the counter, forehead placed in the palm of your hand as you used the other to scroll and click through the numerous emails in your inbox. You had a big deadline coming up for your work, and it seemed that the brunt of the responsibility for it had fallen unexpectedly on your shoulders. As a result, your coworkers were coming to you with all of their questions, new emails popping up in your inbox every hour. So here you were, sitting at the bar in the kitchen, legs tucked under you as you continued to work even after arriving at home from a full day’s work.

Your boss had been on your case for a few weeks now for a reason unknown to you, which put you on edge each day that you went into work, nervous to step a toe out of line and be reprimanded, or worse, fired. You feared that this project could be the breaking point if it didn’t work out, which only added to your nervousness. You had never let a project like this fall apart before, but the anxious thoughts swirling around your mind convinced you that this would be the day that you failed.

You were just closing the browser to open a spreadsheet when you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. You vaguely heard Mason call out into the house and the sound of his keys dropping into the bowl by the front door, too focused on your work to comprehend what he had actually said.

The nerves seemed to have settled in your chest like a heavy weight, pressing onto your diaphragm as your eyes flicked between the seemingly endless list of numbers and data on your screen. Your head was beginning to ache, and you imagined that this is what drowning would feel like.

You were pulled from your thoughts as two hands slipped around your waist as Mason pulled you tightly into his chest.

“How’s my baby?” Mason mumbled into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, and as much as you usually enjoyed being greeted this way, you were feeling overwhelmed by the sudden contact.

“ ’m okay,” you mumbled in reply, wiggling a bit to try to pull from his grasp, but Mason didn’t get the message, keeping your back pressed to his firm chest, continuing to place kisses on your neck and shoulders, his beard tickling your skin. “Mase, please…”

“What are you working on, sweetheart?” he mumbled softly, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“It’s just a thing for work. The deadline’s actually coming up pretty soon.” You tried prying his hands from your waist, beginning to feel suffocated, but Mason didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he ignored it. “So I really need to work on—”

“Come on, just give me five minutes,” he spun your chair toward him so he could see your face. Placing his hands on your cheeks, he began peppering kiss all over—your forehead, nose, cheeks, chin. “Haven’t seen you all day. I just wanna –”

“Mason please!” Something in you snapped and you pushed his hands away from you. “Why can’t you just leave me alone for two seconds! I’m trying to work! Can’t you see that?”

Mason stumbled back a couple of steps, caught off guard by your outburst. You never called him by his full name, and you certainly never shouted at him. A look of hurt washed over his face, the grin that had previously played on his lips falling into a frown, eyebrows drawn together, and you instantly regretted your words. You didn’t mean them, but you were overwhelmed and simply lost your cool.

“Mase, I’m sorry, I-“ You rose from your chair quickly to apologize to him, reaching a hand out toward him, but he was already halfway out of the kitchen by the time you could move in his direction. Your heart sank in your chest as you watched him round the corner, heading down the hallway.

You dropped yourself back into the chair, resting your head in your hands as your eyes began to sting with tears. If you thought you had felt miserable before, you had surely made it worse now. You cursed yourself for letting your stress get the better of you and letting your job come between you and Mason. The despair that you felt sat on your ribcage like a weight as a few tears slipped down your cheeks.

You decided maybe it was best to give Mason a bit of space before you tried to apologize. You knew you had hurt his feelings. He often expressed to you that he feared being too clingy or smothering the other person in his relationships, but you had always reassured him that you loved it, finding solace in his presence and his touch. Until today, when you had snapped at him for doing the very thing you told him brought you peace.

It truly wasn’t that you didn’t want him to touch you. In fact, in this moment, there was nothing you wanted more. You were feeling overwhelmed and had failed to communicate that.

With slightly puffy eyes you wiped the tear streaks from your cheeks, pulling your computer in front of you, determined to finish the work you had laid out for you so that you could spend the rest of your evening making it up to Mason. That proved difficult, though, with anxious thoughts about your relationship swirling around your head, now contributing to the anxiety you felt over your job.

You felt things getting progressively worse—your heart speeding up, the shaking in your hands getting more intense, and you were having trouble concentrating at all.

After about a half an hour, you heard Mason’s soft footsteps as his sock-clad feet padded down the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat, trying to quickly collect your thoughts so you could articulate to him just how sorry you were for what you had said and how you had acted.

But as Mason turned the corner into the kitchen, it was clear he hadn’t come to talk to you, not even sparing you a glance as he walked over to the fridge. Your voice caught on the lump in your throat, surprised by his cold demeanor.

“M-Mase?”

Your call to him was left unanswered as opened the refrigerator door, bending down to grab a bottle of water from the shelf. He uncapped the bottle, taking a drink from it as he walked back out of the room without a word.

Your lower lip wobbled, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. You closed your computer, knowing that you were going to get nothing more done, dropping your head to rest on your forearms on the countertop. You tried to muffle the sobs that shook your body, not wanting to guilt Mason into comforting you. You got yourself into this situation and would have to figure out how to deal with it.

It took another half hour for you to calm yourself, your crying finally ceasing. You took a few minutes, trying to make it appear as though you hadn’t spent the last 30 minutes crying in the kitchen before you decided to “pull up your big girl pants” and go find Mason.

You walked slowly and reluctantly down the hallway, first checking in your shared bedroom and finding both it and the ensuite bathroom empty. As you walked back into the hallway, you heard a noise coming from Mason’s gaming room and decided that must be where you’d find him.

You knocked softly on the door to alert him to your presence before you pushed the door open slowly. Mason was facing to your left, looking at the TV where he was playing FIFA, and only the side of his face was visible to you. Once again, he didn’t look toward you, focusing on his game without so much as a glance in your direction.

You took a couple of steps toward him, playing with your fingers in front of you as you moved to a position where you knew he could at least see you out of the corner of his eye.

“M-Mase? Can w-we talk?” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, but you took a deep breath, determined not to cry again. “Please?”

You waited, but there was no response. The clear shakiness of your voice earned a brief glance in your direction, but nothing more.

“Mason?”

Nothing.

All at once, a wave of emotions and painful memories hit you, the silent treatment from Mason taking you back to a time in your life that you had resolved to leave in your past.

Before you could stop it, a sob left your lips, and you clasped a hand over your mouth to silence it, rushing out of the room. You closed the door a little more harshly than you had intended to, soft cries leaving your lips as you raced down the hallway to find somewhere—anywhere—where you could get some fresh air and breathe for a moment.

Before you could even think, you had rushed to the front door, slipping on the trainers you had left there and grabbing your keys. You were out the door quickly, fighting back tears as you turned the keys in the ignition. You weren’t sure where you were even going to go, you just needed to find somewhere to be alone.

Almost as soon as you had left him alone in his gaming room, Mason knew something was really off. The two of you had fought before, but you had never reacted to it the way you had when you ran out of the room.

He had resolved to give you the cold shoulder, feeling hurt by the way you had pushed him away so harshly. But his concern for you outweighed his need to get you to apologize. He hadn’t been able to keep himself from glancing in your direction when your voice shook as you spoke. You had never sounded so afraid to address him, and that simple fact was eating away at him. He had soon after turned off the console, wandering out of his gaming room in search of you.

The house was eerily quiet as he moved through the hallway, checking in each room that he passed to see if you were there. When he entered the kitchen, noticing your computer lying closed on the countertop, he furrowed his brows. After not finding you anywhere else in the house, he had been sure you would be back in the kitchen, working on whatever it was that had you so stressed out.

Your shoes and keys missing from the walkway told him you had left, and he felt his heart sink a little. He had been hoping to find you and work this out quickly, hating the way he felt when there was distance between the two of you.

After debating whether to text or call to check on you, Mason settled on a quick text, afraid of suffocating you further. He wandered into the kitchen, aimlessly rummaging through the fridge and the cabinets as he waited for you to reply. He was restless, checking the screen of his phone every few seconds to see if a text from you had popped up, but nothing came through.

It wasn’t long before he threw caution to the wind, dialing your number without caring if you would be frustrated with him. The nerves caused by your brief argument and not knowing where you were was causing his worry to spike and he couldn’t keep himself from calling.

The line rang for several long moments before the automated voice began telling him you were unavailable.

He hung up, blowing air out in frustration and tossing his phone onto the counter before he plopped down in one of the chairs at the countertop. For a few moments, he just stared at the chair you had been sitting in when he had first arrived home—the place you had been sitting when you’d shouted at him.

His heart clenched in his chest at the recent memory. You had never reacted that way to him before, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. The negative thoughts began to swirl in his mind, feeling like a cloud of despair.

He felt small. He felt like he was overbearing. He worried that you had grown sick of him and simply didn’t want him around anymore.

As tears sprung to his eyes, Mason’s level-headed side began to prevail.

Yes, you had never reacted that way to him before, so that had to mean that something had triggered it.

Everything had been fine when he’d cuddled up to you in bed that morning, and he was equally as touchy and clingy as the two of you had gotten ready for the day, so something had to have changed between then and when he got home.

As he wracked his brain to remember what you had been saying before you’d snapped at him, he realized he couldn’t really recall what you’d told him. He hadn’t really been paying attention, he realized.

He dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the countertop, as the shame washed over him. Perhaps this all could’ve been avoided if he’s just paid attention to what you had been trying to tell him.

With another sigh, Mason picked his phone up from where he had tossed it on the counter, dialing your number again.

And again, he was met with no response.

You hadn’t actually gone far on your drive, only making it about 10 minutes before you pulled off into a mostly empty parking lot, parked at the back where it was the most deserted, and broke down into sobs.

You felt silly for crying so much about receiving the cold shoulder from your boyfriend, but it had brought up so many memories and feelings you had done your best to repress.

The environment you had grown up in was… less than inviting. In your house, children were treated as more of a nuisance than a blessing. You were made to feel that unless you were bringing some sort of value to others, you didn’t deserve anything. Love was something that had to be earned, not something unconditional that was shared between a parent and child.

Silent treatment was something that your mother had often used to signal that she was upset with you. From a very young age, longer than you can remember, when she would begin to ignore you when you spoke to her or tugged at the hem of her shirt to get her attention, it meant you had to scramble to find a way to earn her love.

So, seeing Mason doing the very same had taken you right back to that time. You had once again felt like a young child, scrambling to prove that you deserved the love of another.

Of course, you realized that there was no way for Mason to know this would have bothered you the way it did. He knew that your relationship with your parents was now non-existent because of the circumstances of your upbringing, but he didn’t know the full extent of what they had put you through. You hadn’t gathered the strength to tell him all of those details yet.

So you had done the only thing you could think of to do in that moment, and you ran away—something you most certainly regretted now. But you didn’t want Mason to feel guilty for making you cry when you knew you had been in the wrong, so you sat in that empty parking lot for as long as it took you to calm yourself down.

You allowed yourself to sit there and feel miserable on your own for a while, but you knew you’d have to go back to face Mason soon. You knew he was probably worried, but you had turned your phone off after his first call came through. You felt even more guilty as a result, but you had been unable to deal with reassuring him of your safety at that moment.

It was dark outside by the time you walked back in the front door, closing it behind you quietly. You slipped your shoes off, placed your keys in the bowl, and hesitated a moment in the entry.

The soft jingle of your keys had alerted Mason to your presence, and he practically jumped up from his seat at the counter where he had remained the entire time, feeling miserable as he tried to call you nearly every 30 minutes.

Mere seconds passed before Mason darted quickly around the corner to find you standing there, still about 10 feet away from him.

His stomach sank to his feet at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. It was clear you had spent the entire time you were gone crying.

At the sight of him standing carefully at a distance, the feeling of guilt overwhelmed you, and tears sprung to your eyes.

“M-Mase, I’m so sorry, I-“ you stumbled over your words, the first tears spilling down your cheeks. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Mason was standing in front of you in an instant, cradling your face with his hands. His thumbs swiped over your cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen. “It’s okay, don’t worry. You-“

“No,” you asserted, shaking your head as you held onto his forearms to steady yourself. “No, it’s not okay, please let me apologize.”

Mason’s heart squeezed as you gazed up at him with wide eyes, and he could tell you were trying to stop your lower lip from quivering, but to no avail.

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and blowing the air out slowly through your mouth to try to gather yourself, wanting to be sure that you remembered every part of the apology that you had mentally composed on your way home.

“Mase, I’m so sorry for snapping at you,” you looked up at his face as you spoke, watching as he drew his brows together with a sad expression on his face. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did, and I shouldn’t have shouted. Work has been awful these last couple of weeks, and my boss has been giving me absolute hell. I think it all just built up.”

Mason nodded at you, and you could tell from his soft expression that he understood what you were saying.

You continued, “It’s not an excuse, I just want you to know that it wasn’t you that was bothering me. I just unfairly took my bad day out on you. I don’t feel like you’re too much—ever—I just… I needed a bit of space, and I should’ve just told you that.”

You could see his face physically relax as the relief washed over him, and you felt even more guilty knowing he had been sitting with those thoughts of self-doubt ever since you had left.

“I’m really sorry,” you finished with a whisper as Mason brushed his thumb softly over your bottom lip.

Without warning, Mason pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, making you feel completely enveloped by him—and the feeling was the greatest relief you could ever remember feeling. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel a couple of warm tears against your skin.

The two of you stood there in the entryway, clinging onto each other like you’d vanish into thin air if you let go. Mason’s hot breath fanned against your neck, and you closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of being so close to him.

“Thank you,” Mason whispered after a few moments. “Thank you for talking to me.”

You squeezed him in response.

“And I’m sorry for being so childish,” he pulled his face back, still holding you in his arms. “I shouldn’t have just ignored you like that. I should have told you how I was feeling, too.”

You brought your hand up to cradle his cheek, pressing a smile to your lips despite the your eyes still being wet with tears.

“It’s okay, Mase, you couldn’t…” you hesitated for a moment, struggling with the idea of opening that part of yourself up to him. But you knew it was a conversation that was well overdue, so you pushed out of your comfort zone. “You couldn’t have known that it would bother me so much.”

Mason remain quiet, turning his head to place a gentle kiss on the skin of your palm, sensing that you had more to say.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Um… so y-you know that my relationship with my parents really fell apart after I was able to move out, and… um…”

You hesitated, feeling frustrated with yourself for struggling to open yourself up. Here Mason stood—the perfect boyfriend, really. He had never judged you for any of your struggles or for anything from your past. He had been nothing but supportive and compassionate since you had first met him. Despite all of this, those nagging thoughts that you weren’t deserving of it all would persist no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

As Mason realized that this was becoming a conversation that would likely require a lot of time, he pulled away from you slightly, taking both of your hands in his as he led you to the living room. He sat down on the couch, opening his arms up to you so you could sit however you felt most comfortable, wanting to put your troubled mind at ease however he could.

Feeling a desperate need to remain close to him, you wound up placing yourself on Mason’s lap, facing him with your knees settled on either side of his hips. Your arm naturally found their place wrapped loosely around his neck, and he placed his hands on your hips, alternating between brushing his thumbs against your waist and rubbing his hands over your thighs.

You took a minute to compose yourself again, staring at the front of Mason’s t-shirt as you didn’t feel confident enough to look him in the eye. Mason remained quiet, continuing his gentle pattern over your legs as he allowed you to have that moment. He could tell that there was a lot weighing on you, even beyond the stress that your job had been causing you.

When you were able to gather your thoughts, you began speaking softly, and you told Mason everything.

You told him about your childhood and the nature of the relationships you’d had with your parents. You told him about the sudden changes in your mother’s disposition and how she would be happy one moment and hateful toward you the next. You explained your long history with the “silent treatment” and how you now realized that was a trigger for you. You were honest with him about the uncertainty that you felt about yourself and about your relationships as a result of this kind of upbringing.

“My mother, she… actually reached out to me last week,” you mumbled. By the time you had finished recounting your life story to Mason, you had cast your eyes down to your lap where you were playing with your fingers, unable to bring yourself to look at his face. “It’s the first time she’s done that since I left home years ago. I don’t really feel like I’m ready to reply to her yet, but I think it’s just dug up a lot of feeling and memories that I tried to bury for so long.”

Mason’s silence as you stopped speaking only made you more nervous. Hesitantly, you looked up to his face, but the pity you expected to find in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Mason had a look of pure admiration in his eyes.

“Please say something, Mase.”

He brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing your skin gently as he gave you a tearful smile.

“You’re so incredibly strong, Y/N.”

His reply took you by surprise, as, for seemingly the hundredth time that night, tears spring to your eyes.

“Really?” your voice shook as you spoke.

He nodded. “You went through all of that, and you’re still the kindest soul I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”

You couldn’t stop the sob that left your lips as you fell forward into Mason, tucking yourself into his chest. His arms immediately were wrapped around your body, your shoulders shaking as you cried into his neck.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there. Your cries eventually diminished into soft sniffles as you remained with your face tucked into Mason’s neck. He slowly trailed his fingers over your back, rubbing soothing shapes and patterns, and after all of the crying and how emotionally drained you felt after reliving the trauma of your past, you felt like you could fall asleep right there.

When you had finally settled a bit more, Mason enveloped you in his arms again, squeezing you gently as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Thank you, Y/N,” his voice was no higher than a whisper. “Thank you for telling me all of that.”

Lacking the energy to reply in that moment, you shifted slightly so that you could place a kiss on his collarbone in a silent thanks for listening and understanding you on a level that no one else ever had.

You sat there for a while, allowing yourself to just relax into your boyfriend’s body as he held you. As you rested there, you knew that there was nowhere else in the world that you’d rather be.

Feeling your muscles soften and noticing that your eyes had slipped closed, Mason knew you would soon fall asleep and decided that the two of you should go on up to bed.

He shifted you off of his lap gently, trying to disturb your peace as little as possible. He stood, bending over to pick you up from the couch, and carried you bridal style toward the stairs and up into your shared bedroom.

He took you into the ensuite bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. After grabbing the skincare products he had observed you using over the many nights that you had spent together, he set out, following your nighttime regimen as closely as he could remember. He took a couple of cotton pads, dampening them with your cleanser and swiping them over your cheeks, forehead, and nose. He pumped a bit of the moisturizer on his fingers and gently rubbed it into your skin. Your eyes slipped closed, and his soft touch nearly lulled you back to sleep, sitting there on the countertop.

Mason only left you alone for a moment as you brushed your teeth and he wandered into the bedroom. You could hear him moving around but didn’t have the energy to find out what he was doing. Just as you had finished rinsing out your mouth in the sink, he reappeared behind you, having changed into a loose pair of joggers and discarding his shirt, sliding his arms around your waist as you stood up straight.

You relaxed back into Mason’s touch, pressing your back into his bare chest and letting your head fall back onto his shoulder.

For a moment you stood there, drinking each other in. Mason swayed you gently back and forth as he pressed his cheek to the side of your head, his body radiating warmth from behind you. With your eyes closed, you focused on the feeling of him pressed up against you, arms holding you securely as the gentle pace of his swaying calmed the remainder of the racing thoughts in your mind.

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the tears springing to them as you thought of how thankful you were to have Mason in your life—how thankful you were that he was your person. You had always known that he was someone special, even from the first moment that you met him. But now, having explained to him the entirety of your childhood and all of the difficulties that came with it, you just felt that much close to him and that much more appreciative if who Mason was.

Kind, forgiving, understanding, gentle—you could have gone on for the rest of the night listing all of the characteristics that made Mason the most perfect man you’d even known.

You twisted in Mason’s hold, tucking your face into his neck so he wouldn’t see the tears spilling over once again. You folded your arms between your bodies as he held you close, allowing him to completely envelop you in his hold.

After another moment, Mason placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Come on, love. Let’s get to bed.”

You nodded, shivering from the cold as he unwrapped his arms from you.

You followed him back into the bedroom, noticing that the sheets had been pulled back, the pillows arranged just how you liked them, and the shirt that Mason had previously been wearing just before was folded on your side of the bed. Your heart warmed at the small acts of service Mason had done for you.

After you’d undressed yourself, slipping Mason’s t-shirt over your head, you crawled into the bed and placed yourself right next to Mason, who was now clad in only his boxers. He pulled the sheets and the duvet up, tucking them over your bodies before he lay down and pulled you into his arms.

With Mason’s arm wrapped around your body, you lay with your head on his bare chest, listening to the soft and steady beating of his heart. It only took a few seconds of you laying there before Mason had slipped his hand under the hem of your shirt, trailing his fingers over your back and reveling in the feel of your skin against his. Your legs were tangled under the sheets as the two of you lay in silence, content to be completely wrapped up in one another.

The silence was only broken as you whispered into the night air a few moments later. “Thank you, Mase. For everything.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his chest.

“Anything for you, my love,” he replied softly, squeezing your shoulders. “Anything at all.”

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @mm-vii @10vnderhaze

Feedback is always appreciated!!!

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #footballer fic #footballer imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb

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hailtothepumpkinqueen · 17 days ago

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(This is probably the longest thing I've ever written, around 4.5k words, but it wouldn't leave my head til I made it real lol

From Shane's perspective. No one had seen the farmer all day, and he's the only one who goes to check on her. Lot of talking over drinks ensues.)

Everybody Talks

Gossip was nothing new for Shane. In a small community like Pelican Town, gossip was the lifeblood and social currency that kept it running. No "secret" was ever truly secret, everyone knew everyone else's dirty laundry. It was the number one pastime and practically a professional sport here. He himself knew far more than he ever cared to learn from his spot in the Saloon(and been the topic of discussion more times than he could count), but he at least had the good sense to drink his beer and keep his mouth shut.

And, on a Friday night like tonight, the not at all subtle gossip sessions were in full swing. Seemingly everyone clucking like excited hens about one topic in particular: the farmer.

Now, she wasn't a new topic of conversation either. The whole damn Valley was a-buzz about her before she even stepped off the bus, hungry for fresh meat. Hungry for new secrets to uncover and info to share. Speculating and predicting what kind of person she'd be purely based on their own biases. Not that he had been much better. Constantly hearing about her had soured his opinion before he even knew her name. Like hearing a harmless song on the radio so many times you'd grown to hate it. But, again, he at least kept his opinions to himself. Mostly. Not his fault his face gave away what he was thinking.

The specific reason why everyone was talking about her, however, pricked his ears up.

No one had seen her at all today. She hadn't come to Pierre's shop, she hadn't picked up one of her tools from Clint, and she was clearly absent from the Saloon on a Friday. No one could recall speaking to her and the requests on the bulletin board had gone ignored. It was as if she had just vanished into thin air.

But, in all the theories he heard bouncing around, he never once heard someone admit to going to her house to check on her. Fucking typical. Feign concern and then expect someone else to actually do something about it. Yoba forbid she was hurt or something..

The thought made his stomach churn and his chest tighten suddenly. Normally, someone dropping off the face of the earth wouldn't bother him. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone for once, that was her business. But, after their talk on the dock, knowing she was struggling, he couldn't help the nagging worry chewing on his insides.

Ah, fuck it. He wasn't gonna be able to enjoy his drink with his stomach in knots like this. Might as well be the one to at least make sure she was alive. Just get eyes on her and then back to the Saloon for a well deserved cold one. Easy peasy.

He found himself walking very quickly towards the farmhouse, shivering at more than just the chill of a particularly cold Fall wind as his brain swirled with worst case scenarios. Images conjured up by a mind that consumed horror movies on a regular basis and knowing the kind of damage farm equipment could cause. A new grisly mental picture cropping up every time he shook the previous one away. Blood and guts and exposed bone and lifeless eyes and--

The sharp sound of a dog barking ripped him from his gorey thoughts, making him freeze in place. The big ass german shepard he forgot she had was staring at him suspiciously, barking again as if to say "state your business!"

"Heeey, boy. Easy. I'm just here to check on your...master? Nope, that sounds gross. Owner? Uh, person?" He held a hand out for the dog to sniff, speaking softly and calmly. Hoping if he appeared chill he'd get to keep his appendage intact.

The dog, seemingly satisfied with that, licked his hand and looked back towards the wooded area of the property. Where Shane could hear, right on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps and see the light of a lamp growing brighter as it got closer.

Out of the treeline stepped the farmer, her dark hair pulled up in a bun for the first time he could remember seeing. It made her look taller somehow, maybe because her neck looked longer this way. Like a swan. She had an axe slung over her shoulder and presumably firewood under the other arm, the light he thought was from a lamp emanating from a ring on her pointer finger.

"Miller?" He called, more out of shock than anything. Inwardly relieved that she was okay and feeling dumb for worrying so much.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him before her face settled into an uncharacteristic scowl, setting the axe down with a muffled thump as it hit the dirt.

"Cooper." She replied coolly, breezing past him towards the house. Putting the firewood in its cubby and pointedly not looking at him. "Did Marnie send you? She'll get her vegetables first thing tomorrow, tell her to just be patient."

"Wh...no? My aunt didn't send me, I'm not her errand boy." He huffed, offput by the assumption and her weirdly icy demeanor. Yeesh, was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of his prickly attitude?

"Little late to be checking on the chickens, then. They're asleep by now. But the coop's over there if you wanna wake them up and say 'hi'." Nodding her head towards said coop and still not looking at him, throwing off her work gloves on the porch.

"I'm not here for that either. I--hey!" He reached out to grab her wrist as she moved to walk past him again. "Would you just stop a second? I came to see you, okay?"

She tensed up but didn't try to pull away from him. And, now that he was close, he could see her eyes were puffy and red, and her lip was quivering. She'd been crying again...

"You came all the way out here just to see me? Yeah, right." She gave a bitter sounding laugh and shook her head in disbelief, her voice cracking.

"It's true!" He insisted, leaning to try and look her in the eye. "The whole town's in a tizzy because no one had heard from you today. And I was..."

"Were you worried about me, Cooper?" She arched an eyebrow brow at him, the barest hint of an amused smirk turning up a corner of her mouth.

"I mean...a little? Maybe. If you wanna call it that." He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, releasing her wrist and stepping away. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't stuck in a well or somethin'."

She blew air out of her nose, and the smile became a little more pronounced, some of the tension visibly leaving her shoulders.

"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. Just...ugh. It's so stupid..." She frowned again and looked away from him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Try me. I bet I've heard stupider."

She sighed heavily, sitting on the top step of the porch and digging a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. Holding it out to him to take. Which he did, carefully, smoothing it out to make sense of the scribbles he could see written on it.

It was a letter from her dad. Short and sweet, hardly anything worth getting upset over from what he could tell. Though a line about the dad retiring to the Fern Islands using her hard earned money admittedly rubbed him the wrong way.

"Uh...?" He didn't know what to say, handing the paper back to her with a quizzical expression. She sighed again.

"I have been begging him to come see the farm, to come see me, for weeks. But Kaiden has peewee gridball practice or JJ has a band recital or Debbie needed another couples' getaway, so it's always 'next time, next time, next time.' Good to know he's sooo impressed with my progress and expects me to pay for his retirement, though, I guess. Thanks a fucking lot, dad."

She crumpled the letter up again and chucked it into the dark with an angry grunt, letting out a laugh when the dog ran after it and gleefully ripped it to shreds.

"You call your mom by her first name?" He cringed as soon as the question left his mouth. Really, Shane? She's upset and that's what you focus on? Fuck's sake.

"What?" She gave him a bewildered look. "No. No, Debbie's my stepmom. Her and dad's kids are my half-brothers."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"...I'm still waiting to hear the stupid part." He said gently, daring to sit on the step next to her and putting them in close proximity again. And again she didn't flinch away from him, just scoot over a little to give him room.

"It's stupid to get my feelings hurt over a pattern of behavior I'm well aware of. I thought that, maybe, he'd be more interested in this place since Grandpa Miller was his dad and all. But nah. His new family is still the center of his universe and I'm only a blip on the radar when it's convenient." She shrugged like it didn't bother her, but he could see the way her jaw clenched and hear the way her voice wobbled. This was some deep rooted hurt. "Sorry. This is why I was a hermit today. No one wants to hear me whinge like an angsty teen because 'daddy doesn't love me'."

"You kidding? The old biddies back in town would kill to hear this kind of juicy family drama." He teased, pleased with himself when she laughed. Once again using humor to deal with the tough shit.

"Guess you'll have a good story to tell them then. Congrats." She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

"Oh, yeah. You know me, biggest blabbermouth in Pelican Town. All your secrets traded away for the low, low price of cheap beer and spicy bar pretzels~."

She laughed again, throwing her head back and leaning against him for support. For some reason, the little gesture made his chest feel tight again, but in a good way? Weird.

"Well, I don't have spicy pretzels, but can I pay you in beer not to go blabbing my dumb family bullshit to everyone?" She waggled her eyebrows at him and smirked, whispering like they were making some kind of shady deal. He couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of it all.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can agree to those terms." He held out his hand for her to shake, mirroring her smirk. She took his hand without hesitation and giggled, giving it a firm shake before using him as leverage to push herself to standing. Quickly disappearing into the farmhouse and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He should leave. He had only wanted to make sure she was okay and head back. She was okay, physically anyway, just wanted to be left alone. He should leave. But she was offering him free beer...and honestly he preferred her company over everyone probably still gossiping about her in the Saloon. But did she want him to stay? Why would she? Half of the damn town was in love with her, all of them so much better than him, surely she'd prefer to be with anyone else than a miserable asshole. He should leave..

An amber colored glass bottle suddenly entering his line of sight startled him back to reality, blinking and looking up to where it had come from. She had returned without him realizing, holding out what he assumed was the beer she had promised while leaning over him. She'd let her hair down again, dark locks flowing over her shoulder in a curtain. The porch light illuminating her from behind like a halo, and she was smiling. At him. Seemingly content with their close proximity to each other. It honestly made his breath catch in his throat, and again he didn't understand why his body was acting this way.

"You good there, bud?" She chuckled, surely realizing he was gawking at her at the same moment he did. Mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a dying fish as he took the bottle from her.

"Uh. Yeah. Just spaced out a minute. Sorry." He cleared his throat awkwardly, grateful that the beer was already open so he could take a swig to distract himself. Surprised when it tasted much better than the cheap swill JojaMart was selling, and even more surprised when he went to check the label, only to see there wasn't one. "Where did you get this? I don't recognize the, uh, lack of brand."

"Oh. Um, I made it." She said shyly, sitting next to him on the step and looking into her own bottle. "Sorry, I brewed it. I think that's the right term."

He blinked. "What?"

"I brewed it." She repeated, her voice even quieter. "Turns out Grandpa Miller had a little brewery in the cellar, including actually really detailed instructions on how to, y'know, brew stuff. Beer, ale, wine, mead, et cetera. So, I figured I'd give it a shot. And when...if my dad came to visit, we could celebrate the farm's success with a few beers made from wheat from the farm. But, you already know how that story ends.."

He could feel himself doing a dying fish impression again, trying to process what she had told him. This woman went out of her way to learn how to brew her own beer for her dad, who has clearly never made his daughter a priority a day in her life. Beer that he was now drinking because she was gracious enough to share. Gracious enough to tell him all this to begin with.

"Miller, you're incredible." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, soft and earnest.

She spluttered and giggled at the sudden praise, seemingly torn between hiding behind her hair and tucking it behind her ear, pale face very noticeably turning red. It was cute, she was cute. How had he not noticed that before?

"Shut up. You're just saying that 'cause I'm bribing you with beer." She pushed at him playfully, still frazzled by his compliment. He made a mock offended gasp and pushed her back, hiding a grin behind taking another swig of beer.

"I'm serious." He assured her. "And if your dad doesn't realize that, he's a brain dead moron."

Her expression softened at that, eyes suddenly shiny with what looked like unshed tears. A watery little laugh escaping her before she took a drink of her own beer.

"I...thank you, Shane." She said quietly, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And thank you for checking on me. Sorry I was so snippy with you before."

He scoffed and gave her a mildly bemused look. "Really? After all the times I've been a dick to you? 'Bout time you threw some it back at me honestly."

"I know, I know. I just...I'm not used to people remembering I exist unless they want something from me, I guess. No one ever just wants me, no one cares about just me. So, when I saw you I made an assumption, and I was wrong. So, I'm sorry." Her posture sunk and she curled into herself a little, fingernails tapping against the glass bottle.

Well, fuck. No wonder she always seemed so eager to help out everyone in town, including him. She didn't think she existed unless she was being useful. The idea of that broke his heart, which he didn't think was still possible.

"How many beers do I owe you not to tell anyone that?" She piped up again before he could respond, looking to him with a weak little smile. Obviously taking a page from his playbook and joking to lighten the mood. He chuckled softly, pretending to mull over a decision while tapping his chin.

"How many you got?" He eventually grinned, holding up his almost empty bottle.

They ended up drinking through her entire stash, sitting on the porch and talking for what must have been hours about...well, about a lot of things. She told him more about her dad, who never really tried to bond with her because she was a girl, and he couldn't figure out how to "relate" to a daughter. About her controlling mother, who cut contact with her when she quit her secure job to move to the uncertainty of Pelican Town. Clearly waiting for her to fail and come crawling back to the mom's "good graces". He, in turn, told her he hasn't spoken to either of his parents since he moved out almost two decades ago and was all the better for it. Not that he had much of a relationship with either of them to begin with. Toasting to the hope they didn't turn out like their parents.

She told him that before she was a data entry clerk for Joja, she was on track to becoming a professional ballerina. Until her achilles tendon snapped in the middle of a recital, effectively killing her mother's dream to live vicariously through her. So he told her of his varsity gridball days, how his dream of going pro was crushed when he tore his ACL during practice. She showed him the scar running up her heel, he showed her the scar running down his knee, and they laughed at an alternate universe where they'd be retiring from their lucrative professions by now. Toasting to knowing when it was going to rain before the weatherman because of joint pain.

They talked about music, about movies, about tattoos, about their animals, about anything they could think of until eventually petering out into a comfortable silence. One she broke after a long moment with a soft laugh.

"What?" He glanced at her curiously.

"Nothing. It's just...you're really easy to talk to when you're not being a complete asshole." She grinned, tongue poking out between her teeth to show she was teasing. He laughed, shoving at her playfully and pulling her back when he almost pushed her off the step by mistake.

"Well, you're really easy to talk to when you're not being the town kiss ass." He countered with an equally playful smirk, earning a laugh from her in return.

"Okay, fair. I deserve that."

She was still giggling as she polished off her drink, swaying a little where she sat and clearly intoxicated at this point, much to his amusement. Before she suddenly leaned into his space, close enough he could feel her warm breath fan across his skin. His own breath seeming to get caught somewhere in his sternum, body frozen in place.

"Did you know...when you smile, it's like your eyes light up and I can see how green they are. I never noticed before, but it's real obvious when we're close like this. S'pretty shade of green, too.." She relayed this to him in a hushed tone, almost in awe of this "revelation". He felt his stomach do a somersault and a blush creep across his face and neck like a wildfire. He and the word "pretty" had never been used in the same sentence, especially not from the mouth of someone like her. He didn't know how to deal with it.

"Oh Yoba, you are drunk. I think it's time to cut you off for the night." He huffed out an awkward laugh, scrambling to his feet and almost tripping over himself in the process. Brain screaming at him to run away again. Coward. Feeling like an absolute jerk when her expression fell into a panicked one.

"Oh. Oh shit, I'm sorry. That was weird, huh? I'm so sorry, I just said that without thinking. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Fuck. I'm sorry." The words tumbling out so fast they almost blurred together, desperate to apologize for the perceived slight.

"Hey, hey. Relax. It's not you, alright? Me and compliments just don't mix. S'not your fault, okay? Promise." Using the same gentle tone he would when Jas needed comfort after a bad dream, one meant to soothe fears.

Thankfully, she did relax a little, the worried crease in her brow smoothing out. Looking between him and the house a moment before sighing.

"We probably should call it a night, though.." she frowned, almost sounding disappointed. But that was almost certainly just wishful thinking on his part. "It's getting late, I didn't mean to keep you so long. I know Fridays at the Stardrop are a town tradition, and I'm sure Emily's wondering where you went."

"Aaah, she's so busy tending to everyone else, she probably didn't notice I slipped out. Besides..." He rubbed the back of his neck and kicked at a pebble in the dirt, feeling a bit bashful all the sudden. "I had a good time talking and drinking with you."

Her face lit up at that, practically beaming at him before looking away again. Actually twirling her hair around her finger like girls do in the movies, but it was endearing when she did it somehow. "Yeah? Me, too. This was nice. Definitely made a shitty day a lot better."

That shouldn't have made him as happy as it did, but he couldn't deny the warmth spreading through his chest at the idea that he had made her day better just by being there. Her happiness was infectious, he supposed. No other reason for it.

The good feeling was quickly snuffed by the realization of how far he was going to have to walk to get home. All the way back into town, down past the Saloon, past Emily's house, past Sam's house down the path that finally lead to Aunt Marnie's house. Buh.

"You know you can just cut through my farm, right? It's much faster." She piped up again, startling him. Was she a mind reader?? Or was he talking out loud without realizing?

"Oh. Uh. You sure? If my aunt sees me, she'll know I was here and probably tell her whole aerobics class." Already cringing at what stories could be spun up by a bunch of women with nothing better to do than speculate on someone's (nonexistent) love life. She deserved better than to have her reputation hitched to someone like him.

"Eh, let 'em talk. They're gonna do it anyway." She shooed the idea away dismissively, getting to her feet with a groan and meeting him where he stood. "Here. Gimme your hand."

He complied, confused, watching her take off the glowing ring she was wearing and easily slip it onto his middle finger. Feeling heat prickle up the back of his neck as she continued to hold his hand and meet his eyes with a little smile.

"It's pretty dark that way. Wouldn't want you getting hurt tripping over something. Or have you fall in a well." Her tone light and teasing, using something he had said earlier back at him. Seemingly unaware of the affect she was having on him as she absentmindedly stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry, carefully (reluctantly) removing his hand from hers to focus on the ring giving off an absurd amount of light for being so small.

"Don't you...don't you need this, though?" He asked hoarsely, scarcely able to hear himself over his heart doing acrobatics in his chest.

"Well, I'm going to see you tomorrow, aren't I?" She arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smirk gracing her lips.

"Are you?" Had they made plans and he'd already forgotten? Focus! Stop staring at her mouth!

"Unless you suddenly don't live with Marnie anymore. I already told you I owe her some vegetables, and I was gonna drop them off first thing in the morning. Figured I'd get the ring back from you then."

Ah. Of course. She was being "helpful", and he just happened to live where she already had plans of going. It wasn't like she was going out of her way just to see him. That would be ridiculous.

"Right. Yeah, for sure. Guess I'll see you later then." He mumbled, flexing his fingers as if to shake off the lingering feeling of her hand on his. It didn't help.

"Or I can just walk you home?" She offered, tilting her head at him. "Save you the trouble of worrying about if I need the ring or not."

"And have you walk your drunk ass all the way back by yourself? Nuh uh. Don't worry about it. You gotta come by the house anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave a little nod and turned to leave, only to be stopped by her grabbing the elbow of his jacket sleeve. Swiveling around to glance over his shoulder and give her a quizzical look. She was chewing on her lower lip, eyes downcast but still holding onto his sleeve. And maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he could swear her face was flushed again.

"I wanted to...I wanted to thank you again for tonight." She said softly, the barest hint of a wobble in her voice. Releasing his jacket to tuck her hair behind her ear again. "I really did have a good time. And, um, and couldn't let you leave without saying 'good night'. So, good night, Shane."

"Good night, Katherine." He breathed out a quiet laugh, warmth spreading through his chest again. Putting his hands in his pockets (which didn't muffle the ring's light at all somehow) and beginning the much shorter trek home for real this time, smiling to himself as he walked past a patch of fairy roses growing. He'd have to tell Jas about that, and about the fact "Miss Kat" used to be a ballerina when she was Jas's age.

He could feel himself walking briskly, finding he suddenly didn't care if Aunt Marnie caught him walking from the direction of the old farmhouse. So what if she told people? Would it be the worst thing in the world if people assumed something happened? Not really. And, if he thought about it, he almost wanted to get caught. Wanted people to know everyone's favorite farmer spent time with him. Alone.

Huh.

That...that was an interesting feeling. One he did not have the mental bandwidth to deal with tonight. That was a problem for tomorrow Shane. Or next week Shane.

Or never. Never was preferable. He was too old to be feeling...whatever the hell this was. And it didn't matter anyway. They had just talked, that was all it was.

That was all it'd ever be.

#stardew valley #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #shane x farmer #sdv farmer #my writing #farmer 100% had a crush on him at this point #but Shane is oblivious #and she thinks he's not interested #so the idiots continue to pine lmao

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hellfirexwhore · 2 years ago

Text

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy!

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey."

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat.

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars.

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you.

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night.

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week.

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass."

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off.

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are.

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him.

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs.

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me."

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands.

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone.

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him.

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong.

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm.

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head.

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave.

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

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You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too.

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now.

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation?

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work.

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do.

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better.

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way.

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude."

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working.

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning.

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on.

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead."

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming.

Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door.

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces.

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long."

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?"

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away.

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen.

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders.

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips.

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me."

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one."

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here."

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it.

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships.

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed.

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you."

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand.

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass."

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days.

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore."

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours.

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-"

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes.

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?"

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen.

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie x reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x reader fluff #eddie x reader hurt/comfort #line cook eddie #line cook!eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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angegiarratanawriter · 15 days ago

Text

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 4659

Summary: After two years of dating but being apart from most of it, you move to LA just in time to surprise Angela for the holidays

A/N: Here's to me actually getting this out on time, unlike anything I've written this year. This is for @thesixthimmortal. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope everyone has a happy holidays.

Being an actress has always been your dream. You can distinctly remember the moment where you made up your mind, no more than four years old, telling your parents that you were going to be on TV one day. And you would be. You have been. For the better part of the last five years, you’ve been starring in one of the most popular TV shows to air in the US. The only problem is, being an actress isn’t what you’ve been dreaming about lately.

Two years ago, on a summer long filming break, you ended up in Los Angeles. Cliche, you know, but it had just seemed like the place to be at the time. That’s where you met Angela, a fellow actor and comedian who had caught your eye at a networking event. She had approached you first, much more confident than you are, but from the moment you started talking, you had never felt more seen.

Never having felt like that before, you decided to do something completely uncharacteristic and give Angela your number. It was an olive branch, one that you half expected her not to use, but she texted you the next day and everything just took off. You went from texting to facetiming to hanging out in person every chance you got in the span of two weeks, and at the end of week three, she asked you out on a date. Of course, you said yes.

The rest of that summer was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Being with Angela was refreshing, it made you feel like you mattered for more than what you could do on a screen. She made you happy, happier than you’d ever been. By the time fall was right around the corner and September was knocking on your door, you knew you were in love with her, and that made leaving so much harder.

Going back to New York that first year was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Being back on set, away from your girlfriend, just felt so wrong. It felt like you were suddenly missing a part of yourself, like half of you stayed in LA when you left. The texts and the phone calls were barely enough, but somehow you made it through filming the whole season without just up and quitting.

As soon as you wrapped, you hopped on a plane back to LA. Getting to see Angela again after seven months away was like coming home, and it was then that you realized that she was the one. Every moment you spent together from then on, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to wake up by her side every morning, and fall asleep with her every night. Slowly but surely, your dream started to change, and you knew it was time to make a decision.

Getting out of your contract was tough, but your agency had gone to bat for you and made sure that a fair deal was struck. You had agreed to stay on for eight additional episodes, and in return, they agreed to release you from your contract early. As much as you hated that you had to go back at all, you knew that this deal was best for everyone. It gave the writers time to wrap up your character’s arc, and you time to get everything ready on your end.

When the summer came to an end, you left again, but this time you knew you’d be home sooner than expected. At first, you had wanted to tell Angela that you were leaving your show and moving to LA right away, but the producers had made you sign an NDA so that they could announce your departure on their terms.

Keeping the secret to yourself had been hard at first, but the longer you were away, the more you saw it as an opportunity to surprise Angela. After all, you were supposed to finish filming two weeks before Christmas, and you think that you moving to LA would be one hell of a present. So, you started planning.

In the span of a little over two months, you found an apartment downtown and rented it, canceled the lease on your New York apartment and packed up, shipped all of your stuff to LA, hired people to set up your new apartment for you, and filmed half a season of a TV show. By the end of it, you were exhausted, but it was so, so worth it.

Now, you’re on a plane back to LA, anxiously tapping your foot as you run through the plan in your head one last time. As soon as you land, a driver that your management has commissioned will pick you up and drive you over to your apartment so that you can drop your stuff off. Then, you’re going to get right back into the car and head over to the Smosh studio to surprise your girlfriend at work. Everything is all set up, it’s all about the execution now.

As soon as the plane lands, you deboard and head out to the Arrivals Pick Up area. There are a couple of photographers camped out by the doors, and when they notice you, they start snapping pictures. A couple even yell a few questions at you, but you just ignore them, heading straight out the exit and to the dark colored SUV that is waiting. The driver takes your bags and puts them in the trunk as you hop into the back seat, and soon enough, you’re on your way.

The trip to your apartment is quick, with you literally just retrieving your key from the building manager and chucking your stuff inside. As soon as you’ve locked up, you head back to the car and give your driver the address you want him to drop you off at. It takes a little bit longer to get to your destination this time, as the Smosh studio is on the outskirts of the city. As you pull through the front gate, you take out your phone to send a quick text.

Y/N: I’m out front.

Amanda: Coming to let you in now! Can’t wait to see you!

Angela’s best friend texts you back immediately, and you smile at her enthusiasm. While you haven’t had the most time to get to know each other, you’ve hung out a few times and your girlfriend talks about her a lot. Enough for you to know that she’s a great person and someone who you eventually want to call your friend as well.

When the car stops in front of the studio, your driver hops out of the car and opens your door for you. You give him a smile and a nod in thanks before taking out your phone and Venmoing him a decent sized tip. As you go to slip your cell back into your pocket, the studio door opens, and you look up to see Amanda walking out. She gives you a huge smile and immediately comes over to wrap her arms around you.

“It’s so good to see you,” Amanda says.

“You too,” you say, hugging the woman back. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know me. Busy, busy, but I have no complaints. You?”

“Things are starting to look up.”

“That’s good,” Amanda says with a smile. “Come on, let’s head inside. Ange should be wrapping up her shoot in a few minutes.”

“Great!” you say.

You follow Amanda inside, letting your eyes wander as you pass through what seems to be the offices before heading into the common area. There are some crew members bustling around, bringing props from one set to another, and a couple of cast members that you recognize hanging out on some couches. Tommy and Shayne seem to be watching a video on one of their phones together, while Courtney and Arasha are going over the rules of some board game.

Amanda leads you over to the free couch in the cluster, and you sit down, sinking into the comfortable cushions. You let out a sigh of contentment, deciding that you’d be happy to close your eyes for a couple of minutes before Angela is done filming, but before you can, a squeal of excitement comes from the couch across from you.

“Y/N!” Courtney says excitedly. “You’re here!”

“I am,” you say with a smile.

“I can’t believe Angela didn’t tell us you were coming,” Shayne says.

“Yeah, about that…she kind of doesn’t know.”

“Oooh, a surprise?!” Courtney says. “I love it.”

“I just hope she does too,” you say, almost under your breath.

“She will,” Shayne assures you. “She’s missed you. Like, a lot.”

“I’ve missed her too.”

“Well not for much longer!” Amanda says with excitement. “Chanse just texted me that they just finished their shoot and are heading over here now.”

As soon as Amanda finishes, you hear a pair of voices start echoing from behind one of the stage doors. You can already tell just by the pitch that one of them is Angela, and by extension you can guess that the other one is Chanse. Judging by the tone, they’re arguing about something, but it seems more like a playful disagreement than anything. As the door opens and they both step out, you are able to pick up their conversation.

“...just saying that there is no reason you can’t come out with us tonight,” Chanse says.

“Yes, there is,” Angela says. “I don’t want to. All I wanna do is go home, climb into my bed, and facetime my girlfriend.”

“I think I’ve got something a little better than facetime,” Amanda says, smirking.

“Wha-” Angela cuts herself off as she looks up and your eyes lock. “Y/N?”

“Hey, baby,” you say.

Before you can even react, your girlfriend is throwing herself into your arms, and you find yourself spinning with her momentum so she doesn’t send you both toppling over. You laugh as you wrap your arms around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck and drinking in the sweet scent of home that you haven’t smelled in almost three months.

“You’re here,” Angela breathes into your shoulder.

“I am,” you reply softly.

“Fuck, this is amazing. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“How long are you here for?” Angela asks, pulling away from the hug.

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, trying not to cringe at your lie as you take a step back. “I at least have through Christmas, though.”

“So we can have our first Christmas together?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“How is that even a question?” Angela says, a huge smile on her face. “If you think you aren’t staying with me while you’re here, you’re insane.”

“You want me to stay with you?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want to spend a second away from you while I have you here.”

“Then you don’t have to,” you say softly.

“Good. Now, before we head out, do you want a tour?”

“Yes, please!”

“Cool,” Angela says happily, before turning to her castmates. “See you guys later?”

“Yeah, see ya,” Shayne acknowledges.

“Bye,” Courtney says cheerfully. “It was good to see you, Y/N.”

“Bye, guys!” Amanda adds.

“See you tomorrow,” Arasha says.

Angela and Chanse say goodbye with a complex handshake, and he gives you a nod before your girlfriend grabs your hand and pulls you off in the direction of the sets. She brings you through each of them slowly, taking the time to tell you funny stories from behind the scenes. There’s the TNTL bit about the election that got cut, and the time she got so excited about an update on Reddit stories that she almost tipped over the couch.

As you walk through the Culinary Crimes set, Angela tells you about the Thanksgiving episode that they did this year, where not one of the dishes was bad. You end up stopping for a minute on the Games set, where she shows you all of the video games that she’s been forced to play over the past two years.

The last set Angela brings you through is the podcast set, which is all prepped and ready for filming. She ends up telling you about her “Ham Cake” sketch and the many live streams that they’ve done in here, as well as showing you all of the holes in the back wall from the various darts videos that they’ve made.

After she finishes showing you all of the sets, Angela brings you out into the prop area for a brief look around, and then heads through the kitchen and lunch area. This brings you back to the offices, where she shows you her desk. You think that the tour is going to end there, but soon she grabs your hand again and starts leading you farther down the hall. She ends up stopping in front of a door, pushing it open for you to see inside.

“And this is the Crying Bathroom,” Angela says. “It’s the only place where anyone can get any privacy around here.”

“So this is where Tommy spends ninety percent of his time,” you joke, stepping into the bathroom.

“It is.” You hear the door shut behind you, and you turn to see your girlfriend locking it with a devilish smirk on her face. “It’s also where I’m going to fuck you for the first time in three months. Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes.”

Not wanting to give yourself time to change your mind, because this is your girlfriend’s place of work and is probably not the most sanitary place to have sex, you push Angela back into the door and connect your lips in a bruising kiss. She lets you set the pace for a minute, but she soon loses patience and you find yourself being spun around and pinned in place, your back hitting the oak with a thud.

You moan at the show of dominance, but the sound is swallowed by Angela’s mouth as she pushes her body against yours for full contact. As you kiss, you feel her start to trace her hands up and down your sides, letting her fingers brush up against the sliver of skin that’s peeking out between your jeans and your t-shirt. After a minute of torturous contact, you pull back with the little room that you have and pull your shirt off and toss it to the side.

Angela doesn’t waste a second in moving her lips down to your neck, then your collarbone, and then to the center of your chest. She teasingly brushes them along your naval, and you find yourself tangling your fingers in her hair to try and get her to speed up. It works, because the next thing you know, your bra is on the floor and your girlfriend has her lips wrapped around a nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan. “God, yes!”

As Angela lavishes your chest, you find yourself grinding down on the thigh that she has strategically wedged between your legs. The pleasure is welling up fast, coming in tiny bursts that feel like mini supernovas bursting in your stomach. Just as you start to feel the dizzying edge approach, your girlfriend pulls back from your nipple, releasing it with a tug, and slowly gets down on her knees.

“Can I?” Angela asks, her voice on the edge of begging.

“Please,” you say, nodding rapidly.

Taking the given consent eagerly, Angela undoes the button of your jeans and slides down the zipper before pulling them down to your ankles with your underwear. She can’t get them past your shoes, so you carefully kick those off before she pulls your pants the rest of the way off and tosses them to the side with your other clothes. It’s then that you realize that she’s still fully dressed, but before you have time to process that, you end up getting distracted by her throwing your left leg over her shoulder.

Angela drags her tongue up from your entrance to your clit, circling around it skillfully before moving back down and dipping it inside of you. A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bring one hand up to muffle yourself while the other one goes down to tangle in your girlfriend’s hair again. When she moves back up and sucks on your clit, you bite down hard as you try to fight the waves of pleasure already threatening to consume you.

Despite your best efforts, it only takes a few more flicks and another hard suck to have you tumbling over the edge. Angela holds you steady as your muscles tense and your legs shake, her tongue never stopping until she feels you start to relax. Once she’s sure your legs will hold you again, she puts your left one back on the floor and stands up. You don’t hesitate to pull her into a kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on her lips.

“My turn,” you say.

Using all of the strength you have left, you switch your positions and push Angela up against the bathroom door. She gasps in surprise, leaving an opening for you to dip your tongue into her mouth as you undo the button on her jeans and pull the zipper down. You don’t hesitate to slip your hand into her panties once you have enough room, and you immediately find her clit and start rubbing circles around it.

“Fuck,” Angela says, her head falling back against the bathroom door. “I’ve missed this. Missed the way you taste, missed the way your fingers feel inside of me.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” you reply, moving your lips down to her neck.

“God, baby. Inside, please. I need you.”

Never one to deny Angela anything, you slip your hand farther into her panties and dip two fingers inside of her. The gasp she lets out is downright filthy, but it’s nothing in comparison to the swearing and moaning that begins the minute you start moving. As you thrust, you crook your fingers up, smirking as you find the spot that always drives her wild and start to attack it.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna-”

Before she can even get the sentence fully out, Angela clenches hard around your fingers and shudders her way through an intense orgasm. You slow your fingers gradually, not wanting to overstimulate her, and lean in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It takes her a minute to fully come down, but when she does, she kisses you back.

“Mmmm,” Angela hums, smiling against your lips. “Fuck, I always forget how good you are at that.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, still catching your breath a little. “I’m pretty sure I saw God.”

“Nah, that was just me.”

You both break out into a fit of laughter at the joke, your foreheads pressing together as your chests fill to bursting with love and happiness. When you finally regain your composure after a couple of minutes, you sigh and then lean in to place one last soft kiss against your girlfriend’s lips.

“I love you,” you breathe out.

“I love you, too,” Angela says softly. “Now, let’s go home so we can continue this in an actual bed.”

“Yes, please.”

—

The two weeks leading up to Christmas are absolute bliss. You and Angela spend every free moment that you have together, just enjoying being in each other’s company again. On the days that she is home, you decorate her apartment while drinking hot cocoa together. When she has to work, you spend all of your time trolling the downtown LA area, looking for the perfect present.

A few days before Christmas, you end up passing a Tiffany’s, and suddenly, it just hits you. Before you know it, you’re writing out a check and handing it over to the attendant in exchange for a beautiful emerald cut diamond ring and a matching set of earrings. You almost add on a necklace, but decide to hold off, thinking that might be a bit too much. Instead, you find a La Perla and get Angela a beautiful set of lacy lingerie that you know you’ll both enjoy.

After getting your presents all figured out, you start planning the proposal. Figuring out what you’re going to say is harder than you expected, as nothing seems to do how you feel about Angela justice. It takes a long talk with Amanda at the Smosh Christmas party for you to finally realize that your speech doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be you. It’s then that you decide to stop planning, knowing that you express yourself better in the moment anyways.

When Christmas day finally comes, you’re more excited than you’ve ever been. You find yourself awake at 8:00 almost on the dot with the complete inability to fall back to sleep. Instead of waking Angela up, you roll over in her arms and bury your face in her chest, breathing in her soothing scent. You stay like that for what feels like forever, just basking in your girlfriend’s warmth, before she finally opens her eyes.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

“Mmm, morning,” Angela replies huskily. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, love. Do you want to stay in bed for a little while longer, or do you want to get up and open your presents?”

“Up. Definitely up.”

So you both get out of bed, heading into the bathroom to freshen up quickly before going out into the living room. Angela takes a seat in front of the tree, and you sit down across from her, both grabbing your presents for each other so that you can exchange them. You smile to yourself, sneaking a quick peek at where you had hidden the ring in the tree, before turning your attention to your girlfriend.

“Okay, so my gifts kind of have two different vibes,” Angela says, pulling at the collar of her shirt nervously. “I got a serious present, and a sexy present.”

“So did I,” you say reassuringly. “Which one do you want to open first?”

“Sexy.”

“Okay.”

You grab the wrapped box of lingerie and hand it to Angela, taking the bag that she gives you in exchange. She nods at you to go first, so you take out the tissue paper to reveal two boxes, one smaller and one larger. You pull them both out of your bag to get a better look at them, gulping when you realize what they are. A bolt of arousal shoots through you, and you have to remind yourself that you have a plan for today.

“A strap on?” you say, your voice unsteady.

“Yeah,” Angela replies nervously. “What do you think?”

“That maybe we should have exchanged serious presents first. Fuck, this makes me want to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yes. But I do need to raincheck the day in bed for like, another hour. Just enough time for us to finish opening our presents and then have some breakfast.”

“Deal. Do you want me to open mine now?”

“Please.”

Angela smiles at you and then turns her attention to the present sitting in front of her. She unwraps it carefully, tossing the wrapping paper to the side and sliding off the top of the box as you watch her intently. You can see the moment when she recognizes what it is, because her fingers flex on the sides of the box and her eyes get two shades darker.

“Do you like it?” you ask hesitantly.

“Like it?” Angela replies breathlessly. “I fucking love it. Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. Next present?”

After handing Angela the smaller box that holds the earring you’d gotten her, you take the present that she offers in return and place it in front of you. She tries to get you to go first again, but you resist, only giving in when she leans over to give you a persuasive kiss. As she pulls away, you unwrap her gift and open the box, revealing a beautiful white gold necklace with a ‘A’ charm on it.

“Will you put it on?” you ask, turning around.

“Of course,” Angela replies, taking the jewelry and clasping it around your neck. “Does it fit okay?”

“It’s perfect. I love it.”

“I’m glad. My turn?”

“Absolutely.”

You watch as Angela carefully unwraps the box in front of her, taking great care like she did with the first one. When she sees that the box has the Tiffany’s logo on it, her eyes widen in a little bit of panic. For a minute you worry that she’s nervous about you proposing, but she immediately puts that thought to bed.

“Baby, I thought we agreed on a spending limit?” Angela says, looking up at you.

“I didn’t go over it,” you say, breathing out a small sigh of relief. “I got a really good deal, I promise.”

It’s true, you did get a good deal, but it has a lot more to do with the fact that you bought an engagement ring at the same time than it does with the holiday deals. Angela looks at you skeptically for a minute, but she seems to accept your explanation because she reaches down and pops the box open.

“Oh my God. These are beautiful.”

“Yeah?” you say, smiling.

“Of course,” Angela replies. “I love them.”

“Good, because I have one last present, and it kind of goes with those.”

Taking a deep breath, you rise to your feet and walk over to the Christmas tree. Your thoughts are racing, running through all of the things that you want to express but haven’t ever found the words to say. Shaking your head to clear it, you reach into the tree and pull out the ring box before turning back to your girlfriend.

“These past two years with you have been the best in my life,” you start, finding your footing. “Even though we’ve only been able to spend a few months at a time together, you make me feel more loved and more seen than anyone I’ve ever known. I love you more than all of the stars in the sky, deeper than all of the oceans. Which is why, last August, I made a decision. I’m taking a break from acting.”

“Y/N-” Angela says, but you cut her off.

“Here is where I want to be. With you. So I’m leaving SVU. Left, actually. My last day of filming was the 10th.”

“Let’s move in together.”

“I’m way ahead of you. I already bought an apartment downtown. It’s twenty minutes from your studio.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, baby. So fucking serious. Almost as serious as I am about this.” You take one last deep breath and get down on one knee, showing her the box. “When I was little, all I dreamed about was being an actor. Since I’ve met you, that’s started to change. Now the only thing I dream about is waking up next to you every morning and falling asleep in your arms every night. Well, that and being your wife. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Angela chokes out as tears stream down her face. “Yes!”

A wide smile breaks across your lips, and you open the box to take the ring out. You hear a small gasp escape Angela’s lips as she catches sight of it, but you just carry on with what you’re doing. As you take her hand and slip the ring on, you look up, locking eyes with the love of your life. She looks down briefly and then back up, before leaning in and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” Angela murmurs.

“I love you, too,” you say. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

#angela giarratana #angela giarratana x reader #smut

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sempersirens · 1 year ago

Text

a bird in your teeth, epilogue

masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: mentions of past trauma, ptsd, nightmares. so much fluff

a/n: a little palate cleanser. sun bleached flies joel is on the naughty step rn

December 24th, (five years later)

God only knows, what I'd be without you...

The TV turned black as the credits rolled, only the warm flickering lights from the Christmas tree left to illuminate the room.

You took a steady breath in through your nose and locked eyes with Sarah, both suppressing a laugh before simultaneously turning to finally face Joel, who had been trying to silently bite back small sobs for the past forty-five minutes.

"How you holding up, boys?" Sarah teased, lovingly.

"You girls are damn evil. Pickin' such an emotional film on Christmas Eve."

"It's heartwarming!" You interjected.

"My heart is feelin' a lot of things right now but warm ain't one of 'em." Tommy murmured, wiping his eyes with the back of his sweatshirt.

"I just can't believe neither of you had ever watched Love Actually."

"May 'swell have, the number of times I've seen you two watchin' it, all damn year round," Joel said.

"Keep talking like that, Miller, and I won't make you an Irish coffee." You warned, earning oooh's from Tommy and Sarah.

You pulled yourself off the sofa and moved to the kitchen, proving your threat entirely empty. As you pottered around the room, collecting all of the ingredients for the drinks, you listened to the noise of the three people you loved most in the world simply existing in the room next to you. The haze of their laughter mixed with the song still warbling through the TV was softened by the wall separating you, a honeyed prayer just for you.

Somehow, life kept moving after that night. Everything thereafter seemed to be measured in the passing of time. Four days for your lip to heal. Three weeks for you to return Daisy's calls. Seven months until you could stop taking the long route to pick Sarah up and drive down that street again. Two years for the panic attacks to stop, for good. Five years, and counting, for an uninterrupted night's sleep.

Two months passed before your tenancy was over, but you had woken beside Joel each morning nonetheless. Sometimes, before the others had risen for the day, you would creep down the stairs and pour yourself a cup of coffee, sit on the porch, and look at that house across the street. You would watch the lights slowly turn on, see the silhouette of life taking shape. A young family had taken over your lease, and it comforted you to know another life was being nurtured within those walls.

Neither you nor Joel had ever discussed what happened that morning in that apartment. And you didn't need to know; you were content with the understanding you both did what you needed to go on. Call it closure.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours, pretty girl?" You felt his chest pressing against your back, his arms leaning on either side of your body, entrapping you against the counter.

His face nuzzled in the curve of your neck, breath tickling your hair against your skin.

"Just wondering if you're on the nice list this year." You turned to face him, staring up through your lashes at the man you love.

"That so? We've got about," he checked his watch, "two hours until midnight. M'sure I can do enough to make it on each of your nice lists for the next twenty years."

"You're planning on keeping me around for that long? Maybe I'll have a love affair with a real cowboy." You teased.

"Good luck gettin' him to watch a Hugh Grant film with ya."

You rested your hands on his face, using your thumb to trace his cheek lightly.

"How did I get so lucky?" You smiled, shaking your head softly in disbelief.

There had always been a surplus of love inside you, even when you were little. Throughout your life, you had poured it into the wrong people, time and time again. Belittled, taken for granted, chastised. Even though the love remained, you had grown to fear it. It would be like riding an escalator and instinctively grabbing the handrail, but being zapped by an electric shock. Each time thereafter, your hand would hesitate in reaching for the supportive grip. Sometimes it would tentatively hover above, trying to gage the sting of electricity a few millimetres away.

But loving Joel came so easy. Everything about him made you want to tear yourself open and offer him everything you had, everything you ever had been, and all you ever would be. You would wake in the night simply craving the feeling of his skin against yours. And every single time you reached out to him, even in his sleep, he would pull you in.

From the other room, an old Christmas song hummed through the walls.

Merry Christmas, baby / Sure did treat me nice...

"I should be the one askin' that question, darlin'." His right hand flexed in and out of a tight fist, the same way it did when he felt a bout of anxiety rise in his chest.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" You asked, concern digging itself into the furrow of your brows.

"I'm no good at this, you know that."

"No good at what, Joel?"

He pulled away from you slightly, lowering himself onto one knee, suppressing the groan you knew he desperately wanted to release at the tightness of his back and knees.

"My sweet girl, I will never understand why y'picked me. Out of all the men in this damn world, even Hugh Grant, I get to be the one who calls you mine."

"Joel..."

"I don't know much, but I know that I need t'spend the rest of my life by your side. And I need you by mine. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?"

"Oh my god, yes! Of course, I will, Joel."

Joel slipped the ring he had presented from a small box in his back pocket onto your finger. His smile showed off the creases by his eyes that you often wished you could dive into and engulf yourself in each feeling that caused them to deepen.

"Get up, you idiot. Your poor back. I don't want to be pushing you around in a wheelchair just yet." You laughed into his kiss, your bodies merging together like it was all they had ever been made to do.

"Can we come in yet?" Sarah called from around the corner.

"Yes! Come in, both of you." You replied, cheeks wet and aching from the smile etched into your face.

"No chance of those Irish coffees, I guess?" Tommy smirked, you softly clipped him round the back of the head before suffocating him into a hug. "Welcome to the family, Mrs Miller."

Merry Christmas, honey / Everything here is beautiful, I love you, baby / For everything that you give me.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #my fic #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #a bird in your teeth #a bird in your teeth fic #dee writes

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directdogman · 11 months ago

Note

my power went out in the middle of me coding in the hobo interaction in my game and i feel like the little shit shart did it on purpose

like 4 HOURS WASTED THAT AINT NO ACCIDENT THAT FELLA DID IT ON PURPOSE I KNOW IT. THEIR GOD IRL CONFIRMED !!???!?

God: "Wow, your power went out? That's craaazy. While you were using it? Man, that's not really all that considerate, is it? Maybe the grid hiccuped. That happens sometimes. It sucks, but it's true. Nothing is dependable ALL of the time, after all. Y'know there's an acceptable amount of bug pieces that can turn up in candy? If they're able to legally sell you a candy bar with a centipede inside it, I guess it's to be expected that sometimes, power just kinda goes out. I mean, ya'd think they'd figure out a way to pump out stuff to chow down on without spiders in it before they'd figure out how to make electricity that never shuts off (even IF a spider falls into the reactor), right? Electricity is complicated, after all, way more than spiders and centipedes. Y'ever seen a spider create music? It's been known to happen, but it's rare is what I'm sayin'.

Y'know, actually, I think it's funny: If ya place a mass of spiders on a hamster wheel, they basically won't produce any amount of electricity worth talkin' about. They just kinda dart around aimlessly. Can't really coordinate spiders. Too many legs. More legs means more chaos. That's a rule. Ever stare at a crab? 'Scuttle, scuttle, pinch', that's a crab's motto. Lobsters aren't much better, but they have their own deal going on the side, which I won't go into now. All that being said, GOOD LUCK keeping insects from sprinting into reactors and frying the power grid for a moment, though! I mean, it's no wonder they keep appearing inside candy. They're skeevy lil fuckers, y'know. Like I said, lots of legs. An excessive number, even. 4 pairs. That's eight legs. Don't even get me STARTED on centipedes! No creature that isn't up to SOME kind of malarkey would need that many legs. Me, I've just got the two and boy, do I get a lot of use out of 'em. I mean, I stand around a lot, of course. Granted, I could sit or lie down, but then people'd assume I'm lazy... which maybe I am, but a lil bit of effort's gotta count for something, eh? Wait, what were we talkin' about again? Oh right, how to keep spiders out of reactors. Honestly, I think we'll figure it out some day, but as marvelous as the wonders of modern science are, I just don't think we're there quite yet. Maybe some day. All I know is, it won't be ME to figure the mystery out, that's for damned sure. Anyway, ya got any change?"

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spearsillustration · 1 month ago

Text

°[The Doctor's Out]°

Note: I really hope this turns out well. I've had an old hyperfixation reemerge, and I had to write something before the motivation slipped away. Recently, I have been quickly moving from one thing to another. Most of the time I have trouble writing longer fics. But I'm so excited to work on something for Richtofen. I've hardly seen any good fanfiction for him so I'd love any recommendations.

Word Count - 4,604

Page Number - 12.5

[Hurt Edward Richthofen x reader] SFW

------------------------------------------------------------

I had finally found him slumped against a wall after looking all over for him. Only to find him bleeding out from a wound in his abdomen. It seems he had enough energy to fight off some zombies before I arrived, but he was badly injured in the process. Seeing him like this almost knocked the breath out of me.

"I thought you vere going to leave me to bleed to death, it was so sad." He says quietly in a lighthearted manner, though his voice was weak.

"Keep quiet, you can joke about this as much as you like once I patch you up," I said quickly rushing to his side holstering my gun clearly worried about him. "How'd you even manage to bang yourself up this bad?"

He lets out a low chuckle, wincing in pain as he does. "I got cornered by a few of those damn things. You can only keep them off for so long before one of them gets the jump on you."

He grunts in pain as I kneel beside him, struggling to speak through the pain as blood pours from his wound. "How is it looking, my dear?"

"Well, you're the doctor, shouldn't you know?" I asked jokingly trying to lighten the mood up a bit more.

He lets out a weak chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I know roughly how it looks, but I'm a little...distracted."

He glances down at his wounded abdomen, his hand hovering over the gaping wound as the blood slowly soaks into the tattered fabric of his shirt.

He was losing blood faster than I originally thought making my eyes widen and uncontrollably gasp. I quickly sat down on the ground next to him and threw open our med kit. I rummaged through grabbing what I needed.

He watches me silently, taking note of the look of shock on my face seeing the extent of his injury. His eyes follow every movement meticulously, analyzing my every reaction to the situation.

"I'm going to be fine, don't worry." He assures you quietly, trying to maintain a calm demeanor as his face twists in pain. Despite his attempt to appear unbothered, his hands clench into fists as his eyes narrow with discomfort. "I've had vorse."

"I'll stop worrying once I get you patched up." I had everything I needed and moved closer to his injured side. I had him lie down fully so I could get a better look to see what I was working with.

He complies with my request, grunting in pain as he slowly lowers himself to the ground, trying to avoid putting too much pressure on his wounded abdomen. His breathing quickens slightly as he sees the medical supplies in my hands, knowing that the pain he's about to feel is just the beginning.

"You can still leave me...if you want." He offers, half-jokingly as he looks up at me from his position on the ground.

"Don't even joke about that," I said sternly looking him in the eyes for a moment before getting back to work. I removed some of his outer layers and pushed up his shirt to get a better view of the injury.

He let out a sharp breath as I moved his shirt, exposing the ugly wound on his abdomen. The area around the wound was already turning a dark purple color from the internal bleeding, and the actual gash on his skin was still seeping with fresh blood. He grits his teeth, bracing himself for the pain that's to come as he looks up at my face again.

"Just do your work, dear." He mutters in a strained voice.

I gave him a sympathetic look knowing this was gonna hurt like hell, fixing this with what little we have.

He nods slightly in acknowledgment of the sympathetic look. He steadies his breathing, trying to mentally prepare himself for the pain that's about to come as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, resting it against the cold, hard wall behind him.

"Do your worst, love." He says quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

"I'll be as gentle as I can okay?" I said before starting to clean his wound.

He nods silently, bracing himself as best he can as I start to clean his wound. He grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he feels the cold touch of the antiseptic against his skin. Every muscle in his body tenses up, waiting for the pain to come.

"Just...get it over with, quickly please."

"I'll work as fast as I can. But if I don't do this right it'll only make it worse." Cleaning the wound helped slow down the blood flow making it easier to fix before stitching him back up. "But I'll have you back in one piece soon."

"I'm trying to hold still for you." He mutters through gritted teeth, struggling to keep from flinching as I touch the sensitive, wounded skin.

After a few minutes, I removed my hands and got the needle ready to sew him up. "We're almost finished, just need to sew you up and we're done," I said gently caressing his cheek with my hand for a moment before going back to work.

He nods quickly, a mix of relief and anticipation clear in his expression. The thought of being sewn up brings a grimace to his face, but he knows it needs to be done. He leans into the touch of my hand against his cheek for a moment, finding comfort in the soft caress.

"Just... do it quickly, okay?" He manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

I quickly sewed him up and made sure it was secure before fixing his clothes. "All finished hon," I said with a sigh of relief. "I'll keep the medical work for you next time."

He let out a long sigh of relief himself once I finished stitching him up. He glances down at his abdomen, inspecting the work I did.

"Thanks, love. I'm sorry you had to stitch me up like that." He shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable on the cold floor as he looks up at me once again. "You did alright despite zero medical training." He adds jokingly, unable to resist.

"Well, I never wanna have to stitch you up again, that better be the last time. Be more careful." I said putting everything back away.

"Now stay right there, I need to do a quick lookout to make sure we're safe to stay here for a while. You need to rest for a bit, and I don't need zombies cornering us before we meet back up with the group."

He nods in agreement, reluctantly admitting that I was right. He leans back against the wall, resting one arm over his wounded abdomen as his eyes fill with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. "Fine, fine, I'll stay put. Just be careful out there."

"I'll be right back," I said making sure my gun was fully loaded.

He watches me check my weapon, "Give 'em hell, my dear.." He says quietly, a hint of a smile on his face as he leans back and closes his eyes.

"Always do," I said leaving him there safely in the room we were in.

I wanted to make sure the building was safe to stay in over the night. I looked around checking every room hardly noticing a thing. Well, that was until I heard something. A lone zombie by itself it looked like from the corner I hid in trying my best to keep out of sight. It hadn't noticed me so I quickly rushed back. It wasn't the best but our circumstances could be far worse. As long as we stayed hidden and quiet we'd be fine, most likely. It wasn't one of my best plans but we didn't have many options. The group has been separated and my only teammate and medic got hurt.

He waits patiently in the room, his head leaning against the wall behind him and his eyes closed as he tries to rest. It had only been a few minutes since I left when he heard the door burst open suddenly. He quickly opens his eyes, looking up at me entering the room, noticing the tense look on my face.

"Everything alright?" He asks, raising a concerned eyebrow.

"It's fine. Only a few zombies lying around." I closed and locked the door behind me. "But we need to stay quiet and I prefer to take extra precautions." We were hiding away in an old office so I pushed the desk in front of the door along with the bookcase. This wouldn't do much but it's better than nothing. "This will do for tonight," I said dusting myself off and wiping the sweat from my brow.

He watches as I barricaded the door, his expression a mixture of resignation and irritation. He knew I was right to take extra precautions, but he seemed frustrated at having to hide away in an old office.

"Great, just great... we'll be stuck in here for the night then." He mutters, wincing slightly as he shifts his position on the floor, his injured abdomen still throbbing with pain most likely.

"Well we can't do much now, and you need to rest," I said turning to face him with another stern look.

He had already been pushing himself to the limit, and the strain of today's events had taken their toll on him. His exhaustion shows on his face as he leans back against the wall, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard floor.

"I guess you're right. I could use some rest. But.. what about you? You still haven't slept either.."

"I can wait, you need to rest. Doctors orders or so you'd say. Plus one of us needs to keep watch just in case anything happens. I'd hate to see what happens if both of us were taken by surprise. We probably wouldn't survive that one."

He rolls his eyes at my mention of "doctor's orders," but can't help letting out a small chuckle.

"If you say so, Liebling. I suppose I'm in no position to argue right now." He lets out a weary sigh, closing his eyes again as he tries to relax his aching muscles.

He was already hurting from his wounds so I hated to see him uncomfortable too. I walked back over and sat next to him. "Well, the wall isn't very comfortable is it?" I patted my shoulder gesturing for him to lean against my side and make himself comfortable.

He glances at me, a mix of surprise and gratitude in his expression. He sighs quietly, reluctantly accepting the offer as he slowly shifts his position to lean against my side, gingerly resting his head on my shoulder.

"I'm too tired to argue about this.." He mutters, his voice low and weary. But there's a hint of affection in his tone as well.

"Whatever you say, doctor," I said with a smile.

He lets out a soft breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he moves into a more comfortable position, resting against my side. Despite the situation, he can't help feeling a sense of comfort from my presence, even if he would never admit it out loud.

"That's better." He mutters quietly, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans into you. "Just wake me up if anything happens, got it, love?"

"Just rest, let me worry about everything for now," I said tenderly.

He nods silently, his eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath, his weary mind slowly starting to relax allowing himself to simply unwind and rest. "Just for a little while.." He mutters, the fatigue slowly taking over as he allows himself to drift off to sleep.

I just lightly hummed in response.

The sound of soft humming fills the quiet room, its soothing melody acting like a lullaby that slowly lulls him to sleep. He leans even closer, his head resting against my shoulder, his breathing slowly becoming more steady and regular, a clear sign that he is gradually falling asleep.

I smiled as he fell asleep. He definitely needed it. I just listened for anything coming and kept guard as he slept. This was the first time I've seen him take anything remotely close to a break. However these days it was almost impossible for any of us to get a break. But it did bring a smile to my face to see him get some rest though I was almost envious.

---

A few hours passed as he slept quietly, the room filled with the silence of the night and the soft sound of his steady breathing. During the first few hours, he remained motionless, too exhausted and in pain to stir. It wasn't until later in the night that he began to shift and murmur restlessly, his sleep disturbed by some unknown nightmare.

A few times here and there I could hear something moving around outside keeping me alert. As long as we were quiet and weren't located we'd be safe. I noticed him stir a few times here and there but I didn't think much of it since I can't believe anyone could have a truly restful night's sleep these days.

As the night progressed, his nightmare continued to cause him to stir and murmur in his sleep. Now and again he would let out a low gasp of pain or fear, his body tensing and flinching involuntarily as if trying to escape from whatever horrors his mind was tormenting him with.

After a while of this, it started to worry me too much to let it be. "Richthofen...Richthofen." I repeated gently trying to wake him up in case his nightmare caused him to hurt himself even more or make too much noise giving away our location.

His eyes snap open instantly, his expression one of disoriented confusion and fear. His heart was beating fast, his chest heaving heavily as he tried to figure out his surroundings in the darkness. It takes him a moment to realize where he is.

"S-Scheiße, what...where..?" He stammers, his voice hoarse and strained as he slowly regains his bearings.

You were having a nightmare, are you alright?

He takes a deep, shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he runs one through his messy hair. The nightmare still had him feeling on edge, and his heart still felt like it was racing.

"Ja, I-I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all." He says, trying to downplay the situation. He didn't want me to worry about him any more than I already was.

"It seemed like a rough one. Not that I wanna pry. You were starting to move around and I didn't want you ripping your stitches or anything."

"Danke, liebe.. I appreciate your concern, I'm alright. Just need a few moments to catch my breath." He says, his voice sounding strained and weary as he tries to calm his breathing.

A loud crash outside the door interrupted us making me jump as I covered my mouth keeping myself from making noise. It sounds like something was knocked over right outside the door.

Edward's tired mind quickly snaps to alert at the sound of the crash outside the door and he instantly goes tense, his eyes wide as he looks at me.

"What was that?" He whispers, his voice low and urgent. He was fully awake now, adrenaline starting to course through our veins as he scanned the room anxiously, ready to defend the both of us if needed despite his injuries.

"Sounds like one of them knocked something over. It's probably nothing but we should stay quiet for now." I barely said over a whisper almost shaking as my hand rested over my gun.

Edward nods in agreement. Every little noise and shadow seemed to make us more nervous, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

"Right, let's stay quiet.." He mutters, his voice low and tense. "Hopefully it was just a stray zombie and it will pass on by."

"That's what I hope for."

He was used to dealing with hordes of undead regularly, but the stress of the situation was starting to wear on him. Sitting in a small, dark room with a group of undead roaming outside wasn't exactly on his list of preferred places to spend the night.

"Hopefully it won't try the door." He mutters, his eyes flickering toward the barricaded door.

"Well, don't jinx it," I said halfheartedly.

He lets out a low chuckle, trying to make light of the situation. "Right, my apologies. No jinxing allowed. That'd be bad luck, wouldn't it?" He teases, his voice still edged with nerves.

Suddenly a low, guttural noise comes from outside the door, causing both our hearts to skip a beat.

I unintentionally grabbed his arm for comfort as we both froze in silence and looked up at him with wide eyes.

His eyes flickered over to me as I grabbed his arm. He glanced at me and then back at the door, his breath caught in his throat as the noise got louder.

"Stay calm," He whispers, gripping my shoulder reassuringly as he speaks, trying to keep his voice steady.

I only nodded as I kept my hand hovered above my weapon.

The noise continued, almost sounding like a low growl. It lasted for a few moments, then slowly faded, leaving the room shrouded in an eerie silence. Edward exhales a shaky breath, his hand still gripping my shoulder.

"I.. think it moved on.." He says quietly, his eyes shifting toward the doorway.

"I hope so," I said feeling slightly relieved, and let my tense body relax.

Edward sighs, his body still tense as he keeps listening intently, straining his ears for any sign of movement outside. The silence was almost deafening, his heart still beating a little bit too fast for comfort. However, the fact that the sound seemed to have faded gave him a slight sense of relief.

"Looks like we're in the clear for now..." He mutters, his hand still on my shoulder, his grip a little tighter than usual as if trying to assure himself that I was still there.

My ears were practically ringing so I shook my head to get rid of the feeling. "Let's hope it stays that way."

He nods, his eyes still flickering toward the door every now and then. Even though the room was silent now, the tension was still thick in the air.

"Yeah. No sense worrying about what's outside. We just need to lay low and hope it stays quiet out there."

He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his voice a little softer than usual. "Hey, look at me for a second, love."

I turned to face him tilting my head slightly with a questioning look.

Edward's gaze locks onto mine, his blue eyes studying me intently. He looked tired, yet the concern was still showing on his face. “How are you holding up?” He asked suddenly, his voice gentler than usual. His hand that was on my shoulder gave a light squeeze.

"I'm doing al- I'm doing the best I can with our current situation." I didn't know how to answer. I was completely exhausted and overwhelmed with him being hurt, and everything was just crazy right now.

He notices the hint of distress in my voice knowing I was trying to downplay my stress for his sake. He knew me all too well.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He says softly, his hand moving gently to cup my cheek. "You know you can be honest with me, love. It's just us right now, I'm here." He says, his thumb stroking my cheek gently.

"I-I'm just tired," I said leaning into his warm touch.

His fingertips brush gently over my skin as his hand rests against my cheek. My tiredness was apparent, and he couldn't blame me for feeling worn out. The stress of the day was taking a toll on both of us.

"I know, I know. But you've been through a lot today. You should rest." He says sincerely, his voice laced with a hint of concern and tenderness. His hand continues to caress my cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles against my skin.

"I'm fine, you're the one who needs rest, you're hurt. I can rest once we get back with the group." I mumbled out, sounding far more pitiful than I ever imagined myself sounding.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly as he looks at me. He can hear the fatigue in my voice and can see the shadows under my eyes. He knew that I was pushing myself to my limit, putting up a strong front for his sake.

"Love, I appreciate your concern, but you need to rest. You're just as tired as I am. There's no point in pretending otherwise."

His eyes were gentle and understanding. He didn't want me to push myself past my limits, especially not for his sake.

"But-" Is all I got out before being interrupted.

He cuts me off, shaking his head firmly. "No buts, not this time. You need to rest. I'll be fine, I've been through worse."

He says with a smirk, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. Despite his joking tone, his eyes were serious, wanting me to take care of myself for once.

"Fine, but only because I'm too tired to argue."

He chuckles lightly at my response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take what I can get."

He says, his hand still caressing my cheek, gently tracing the outline of my face with his fingertips. He could see the exhaustion in my eyes, the weariness etched onto my features. "Get some rest, love. I'll keep watch, alright?"

"Alright, fine," I said before moving closer and cuddling up to his side like I had him do with me earlier.

He let out a slight laugh as I cuddled closer to him, a small smile on his face. He slides his arm around me, pulling me closer to him as he makes himself comfortable on the ground.

"Comfortable, love?" He teases me gently, his fingers tracing slow circles on my back. Despite the situation, he found a strange sense of comfort in having me close to him, my head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm pretty comfortable, but I'm not hurting you or anything are you?" I ask suggesting to his sewed-up side.

He shakes his head, the smile on his face growing slightly as he gazes down at me resting against his shoulder. "No, love, you're just fine."

"As long as you say so," I mumbled as my eyes grew heavy. It didn't take long for me to practically pass out from exhaustion.

He watched as my breathing began to slow, my body relaxing against his. He could feel the tiredness emanating from me, and it wasn't long before I drifted off to a deep sleep, my head still resting on his shoulder. He couldn't help but crack a small, genuine smile. Seeing me asleep and curled up against him sent a strange yet pleasant feeling fluttering through his chest. Even in a dangerous situation like this, he found a sense of comfort in having me near him.

---

Like he did I could only sleep for a few hours before my body automatically woke me up. I'd probably never have a good night's rest for the rest of my days, though I did feel better than before.

Edward's eyes were open the moment he heard me stir next to him, his hand having rested automatically on my shoulder as you woke. He glanced down at me in the dark as I slowly sat up, his voice low and gentle as he spoke. "You alright, liebe? You didn't sleep long."

"Couldn't sleep, you know how it can be."

He nods, understanding all too well the struggle to find rest during stressful situations like these. He knew all too well how it felt to toss and turn for hours with endless thoughts racing through your mind in the dark.

"Yeah, I know the feeling. It's hard to find sleep when your mind won't let you relax." He says, rubbing his hand up and down my back soothingly, the action automatic and comforting.

Just then I heard voices making me jump up. I looked back at Richtofen before moving closer to the door to listen and prayed it was our little team. We'd be far safer to leave if it was them.

Edward was immediately alert the moment he noticed my reaction. He listened intently, straining his ears trying to make out the voices I was hearing. He gently grabbed my hand, silently signaling me to be cautious and quiet as he too moved closer to the door to listen.

One stupid joke told me exactly who it was making me smile before starting to move my shitty excuse of a barricade. Our team was right outside the door.

Edward let out a soft sigh of relief as he recognized the voices as well. He could hear Nikolai's deep, rumbling laugh and Dempsey's loud, cocky comments, and it put him at ease.

"Guess we got lucky this time." He mutters quietly, a small smile on his face as he watches me start to move the barricade.

"Guess we did," I said moving the last thing from our barricade. And before I opened the door I quickly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Hay guys, good to see you're all alive," I said after opening the doors.

Edward was about to say something but was quickly cut off by Nikolai's booming voice. "It is good to see you both alive as well." He says with a chuckle, his eyes flickering to Edward for a moment before looking back to me.

I gently nudged our doctor. "He's been roughed up a bit, got anything to help the pain?" I asked the others since we only had so much.

Nikolai nodded, pulling a bottle of vodka out of his jacket pocket. "Vodka always helps the pain, ja?

#x reader #cod zombies #cod #edward richtofen x reader #edward richtofen primis #edward richtofen #oneshot #call of duty zombies #call of duty #sfw

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 5 months ago

Text

One Call Away - Sam Winchester x Reader

Loosely inspired by One Call Away by Charlie Puth in which the Reader calls on Sam as she’s going through a rough time.

Listen to the song here

A/N: Hello! So this is once again one of those fanfictions that is based on what I’m really going through. I can’t get into details about what actually happened but I am a bit inspired and I wish I had someone like Sam (outside of my family) to turn to in times like this. I've been working on this one for maybe 6 months or so? It's been a long time coming so I hope you enjoy it!

As always, Supernatural masterlist | Masterlist of all Masterlists

Warnings: Mean people, crying, swearing, fluff, angst, language

Word Count: 3992

“You are a bitch!” The words of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club rang through my ears every time I looked at her. If I had to deal with her mistreatment one more time……

Okay, so it wasn’t always like this, in fact, it used to be really good but then again, it all seemed like a phase. It didn’t make any sense, all of a sudden I was out and looking in and it was not okay. The environment around me was so toxic, that I dreaded going there every day. I didn’t know what to do or who to go to so I went to the one person I always knew would be there for me. Stepping outside, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

“Sam? Hey, can we talk?” I ask, hoping he isn’t busy.

“(Y/N) of course, what’s going on?” He said I can tell the concern in his voice.

“Work is just becoming too much for me and I don’t know what to do. I feel like no one likes me, people are trying to get rid of me, and I feel like I don’t have any ideas on how to fix the problem.”

“(Y/N) I’m sorry, that’s awful. What happened?”

“I don’t know what happened or what changed, I just all of a sudden was kicked out of the crowd and it feels horrible. I work hard and I try to do everything that is required of me. I love my job and the people I work with but something changed for the worse.” I say, starting to cry. I couldn’t help but let all the feelings out because this was going on for months.

“Hang on, I’ll be right there,” He says, the line goes slightly as the tears keep falling. A few moments went by and there was a knock at my door.

“Oh sweetheart,” Sam says, pushing the door closed behind him and wrapping his large arms around me. Sobs just wracked through my body as the stress of the last few months boiled over.

Right before I started this job, I met the Winchesters. I didn’t even mean to meet them but I’m glad to have them. They were in town working a case and I had assisted them in pulling information on what may have killed the person they were after. Don’t worry, I’ve known that monsters are real before I met them. My great-grandfather was a hunter, my grandfather, my father, and it would’ve gone to my brother but the tradition is, it goes to the oldest child. So I’ve grown up in the life and have seen everything. Of course, the guys were thrilled to know I knew so much about monsters and some best practices to destroy them but I wasn’t allowed to actually hunt at all. I was just used to giving information but I was damn good. So I was asked to move into the Bunker for easier access but I ended up having to get a job because my assistance wasn’t being requested as often. Things were great at first but everything changed and it was awful. Of course, the Winchesters were overprotective because they said they saw me as a sister, and they wished they could do something to help me.

“They’re doing what to you?” Dean had yelled, not at me but at the situation. “I’m going to make them pay for treating you like that.”

“I appreciate that Dean, but I don’t want you to do anything,” I explained to him and Sam. They both frowned when they couldn’t help me but it was something I needed to handle myself.

“But (Y/N) you’re being treated unfairly. You do see that right?” Sam asked, more concern showing up in his features.

“Yes Sam, I know, but let me handle this first and if that doesn’t work, I’ll ask you guys,” I say and make sure they both understand before I go back to my room.

Authors POV

“Why is she being treated so badly? She really enjoyed her job and then all of a sudden, everyone turned on her?” Sam stated, not fully grasping what happened.

“I don’t know Sammy, but we gotta figure out how we’re going to help her,” Dean said.

“Dean, you know what she said, she doesn’t want our help.”

“The hell she doesn’t. She’s too nice to start something like this. She needs to be protected.”

“Look I think she can be too nice too sometimes but she’s also tough as nails in certain aspects. She doesn’t let anyone push her around so we just have to trust her and believe she will find a way to come out on top,” Sam says but he doesn’t trust those words himself. No, Sam is extremely protective of her and will do anything he can to make sure she is okay. He could never tell her why he feels that way, maybe because he doesn’t know himself, but when it comes to her, everything is different.

He paced the length of his bedroom, which was rather small for his long strides, and that made him frustrated because he would have to stop, turn, then go back to pacing, only to have to start all over again a few seconds later. The cell phone that sat on his bed taunted him, telling him she wouldn’t call to say she needed him. He would get flustered, running his large hands through his hair, slightly tugging on the ends of his neck as he would groan. He hated waiting and hated that she wasn’t calling sooner for his help. It irritated him that anyone was treating her poorly because she didn’t deserve that. She was smart, brave, funny, beautiful, strong, resilient; nothing standing in her way but this? This was more than she could handle, he thought. This would upset even him and he was used to this kind of crap but as long as he’s known her, she didn’t deal with things where she was being used or people didn’t like her. Okay, so she’s only been a part of the team for six months, but she became family as soon as she decided to move in with them.

A few hours passed and Sam had fallen asleep waiting around. He refused to help Dean with a case that had come up because he was so concerned with (y/n) and he knew he needed to be around in case she needed him. He would’ve slept longer if it wasn’t for his phone waking him up with a rather annoying buzzing sound.

“Hello?” He answers the phone, trying his best not to sound as though he was just asleep.

“Sam?” A small voice came through from the other end. She sounded timid almost; something was wrong.

“(Y/N) what's wrong?”

“Something happened and I need your help; I’ve lost control.

"Okay, where are you?"

"Down by the lake, about two miles from the Bunker. I'm in my car."

"Stay there, I'm coming to find you."

Luckily, Dean had come back from his hunt and it ended successfully.

"Dean, I need to borrow Baby. (Y/N) got into a bit of a situation and she really needs help," the younger brother says to his older brother, in a way he hasn't seen his baby brother for several years.

"Dude, of course. Is she okay?" Dean asks.

It took Sam a few minutes for him to find the words to answer. He looked like a fish gasping for air on the land; he truly did not know.

"I don't know. She sounded so scared and fragile…." A single tear fell from his eye, knowing the person he cared for most in the world was in great need of someone to be there for her.

Dean had only seen this behavior in Sam one other time and that was when he was sent to Purgatory. This must've been serious.

"Take whatever you need. Just make sure you're good before you drive; you don't want to get hurt yourself. Call me if you need me."

"Thank you, Dean." Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala from the table a jacket and his phone before speeding away to try and get to his friend, in her weakest moment.

The drive seemed endless but it only lasted ten minutes. He saw her small vehicle parked under a tree, close to the lake but still a good distance from the shoreline. It was dark, with only a few street lights a few yards away. Sam had the idea of turning the Impala's headlights on, hoping to illuminate the view around (Y/N)'s car and as a way to make himself known.

"Sam?" Her voice rang out into the night.

"I'm here," he answers her.

The sound of a car door opening and shutting came and went and the next thing Sam knew, (Y/N) was running into his arms as she let all her pent-up emotions fully go. With her still in his embrace, he bent down so he was sitting on his knees, with her head resting in his jacket. He held her close, afraid to say anything, for fear it was too soon for her to speak. So, he sat with her, rocked her, and occasionally wiped the tears from her now puffy eyes. Even at this moment, his heart swelled. See, Sam finally figured out why (Y/N) was different; he was in love with her. Yes, he had fallen madly in love with her yet could never find the right time to tell her. Now was definitely not the time but when she would look up at him, tears brimming her big (y/e/c) eyes, he felt it in his soul; he adored her. He knew he would do anything for that girl and he ached to help her when she was this hurt.

How dare anyone treat such a beautiful and kindhearted person like her? He had thought to himself. He couldn't fathom why anyone would be so cruel to her but he pledged to himself in that very moment, he was always going to be there for her; Superman had nothing on him.

Sam's POV

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, wanting to know what happened since she seemed more calm.

"I was called in by my boss and had a meeting with human resources. It was so stupid and I felt like I was being targeted. I threw up because it's just been too much and I've been so stressed. I'm gaining weight and I'm eating more crap; I hate this," she answers and my heart breaks further

"(Y/N) you need to get out of there. It's not healthy for you to be in that environment."

"I know but I don't want to quit; it wouldn't look good for future jobs."

"Fuck getting another job! Just stay with us and we'll have work for you to do. You don't have to worry about anything; we've got you." I say, reassuring her that we will always have her best interest at heart.

She looked back at me with these big, wet, puppy dog eyes and I felt my heartbreak further for her. "I wish I could but I just can't."

"Well, I'm not stopping until we figure something out that would be much better for you and I'm not giving up until we think of something because goddammit (Y/N) I care about you."

The air in the room felt very thick and everything was quiet, (Y/N) not saying a word, not looking at me and Dean, well Dean had shot me a look and a grin, knowing what was behind this sudden statement. I gave him a mental plea of 'please leave.' I was relieved when he just smiled and left the room.

"(Y/N) are you okay?" Again, she remained quiet for a moment before finding the words to say.

"What do you mean you care about me?" She asks.

"Well, I've always cared about you, since we've met," I answer, trying to put off the true answer.

"But when you've said this before, Dean has stayed in the room; he just left." I took a big sigh and then I decided it was time.

"Sam, what are you saying?" She asks, her head slightly turned to the side, much like Cass does when he's confused.

"I'm saying I care about you, as more than just a friend. I've been crazy about you since you came to stay with us and with all this shit happening at your work, all I wanna do is wrap you up in my arms and protect you from all the mean people," I finish my statement, my eyes never leaving her face.

There's an agonizing silence as I try to read how she's processing all this but then she finally speaks up.

"What are you waiting for?

I take that as an okay and I grab one of her arms, tugging her into my body. She's safe and she's warm in the protection of me. My arms snake around her and I feel her taking a big breath in and out; her whole body relaxing. Time had passed and I wasn't sure how much of it had but I savored every moment of it. I slowly untangled her from my arms as she looked up to me. Not a single word was spoken but I took the lead and pressed my lips to hers. She reciprocated, pressing her smaller frame to mine by stepping on her tiptoes to reach me. We stayed together for a short while, but it meant everything to me.

Two days later Sam was on my side through everything but it was time to go to human resources to find out what they could do for me.

“Sam, I'm scared.”

“I know you are baby, but I’m here and I’ll be with you as long as you allow me to be.” He takes my hand and drives me down to the department where we would be meeting with a representative of human resources. We arrive and as he parks the car, he brings my hand up to his lips and leaves them there for a bit.

“You ready?” He asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, gripping his hand a little tighter. We walked in and were met by the specialist.

An hour or so passed and it was determined I would be going on a leave. A few weeks away from my workplace I could not be more relieved to be out of that situation. In fact, so much pressure had built up inside me that it exploded in tears from my eyes. Sam just held me tight and made sure I knew he was there. I was going to be spending every day with Sam and Dean and I felt a bit odd about it, knowing I wasn’t going to be able to help too much.

“Nonsense sweetheart, you can help us research our cases,” Dean stated.

“Could I come with you guys?” I ask.

Sam and Dean shared a concerned look but Sam spoke up first.

“It wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone while you’re on leave but you have to promise us, you’ll listen to everything we tell you. We care a whole lot about you and these cases can get pretty dangerous. Stay close, don’t wander off, and shoot when we say.”

“Wait, you guys trust me to shoot someone? I’ve never done that before,” I state.

“We’ll teach you. We have more time now so we can get you ready,” Dean said. “Sammy, you got this?”

Sam glanced at me and looked to read my face, waiting to see if I would object. “If she’s up for it.”

I sucked in a hard breath and nodded.

“Then I will take her on.” Now it was my turn to read his face. It wasn’t as easy but I managed; he looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Sam, can I talk to you for a minute, in private?” He nodded and followed me out of the room.

“You don’t have to teach me to shoot. You looked uncomfortable; I can ask Dean,” I say.

“No I want to,” he says.

“Then why do you look so annoyed by it?”

“I’m not annoyed, I’m worried. Our line of work can be really dangerous; I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well I’ll be fine, you’re going to train with me; I’ll be a hunter.”

“That’s not something to be excited about, (Y/N). We kill people and creatures.”

“Sam, I know, I’m not excited per se but I am interested in learning more about you and what you go through every day.”

“But you can do that without doing what I do,” he says.

“Look, I really appreciate your concern and you’re right, I don’t have to do this to get to know you better but I don’t want to be alone for twelve weeks and I can’t ask you to give up hunting just for me so if this is what it takes, then teach me. Show me what I need to do to stay safe,” I said going over to him and wrapping my arms around him. He holds me close, his head resting on my head.

“I care about you a lot, you know that, right?”

“I know, I do too.”

A few weeks later, Readers’s POV

Time seemed to have gone by rather quickly. The more hunts I went on, the easier it became. I took it as not killing people as much as killing creatures who may have been human at one point but aren’t anymore. I was continuing to stay busy with the boys, hunting, traveling, researching, and staying in more crappy motels than I could count. The job was taking a toll on me, on all of us, but we all grew closer and the boys treated me like I was their sister, well that was until Sam started distancing himself from me. It began as small ways for him to separate himself; not interjecting in conversations about hunts, simple nods or shakes of his head, answering with “hmm” instead of actual words. Then it grew into staying behind during hunts, not eating food with Dean and me, and overall just not acting like himself.

“Hey Dean, have you noticed a change in Sammy lately?” I asked one day while he was driving us home from a hunt.

“You mean any more than usual?” He jokes, always having to pick on his younger brother.

“I’m serious, Dean, I’m worried about him!” I say, slightly swatting the elder Winchester.

“I don’t know (y/n), maybe you should go talk to him, see what's bothering him,” Dean suggested.

I figured that was the best idea so I decided to do just that. I was a bit infuriated and when I walked, I added more pressure to each step, making sure Sam knew I meant business. I finally found him in his room, lying across his bed, as if we weren't worried about where he was.

“You better have a damn good reason for acting so off, Sam,” I say, making myself known.

“(Y/N)” he says, suddenly sitting up to look at me.

“Well Winchester, what's your problem? You've been acting weird, especially around me. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? What is it?” I asked, both hands on my hips, staring down at him.

“No, it's not that,” he says.

“Then what? I mean I thought everything was fine between us but you've been acting so differently towards me! You can't look at me for long, be around, or talk to me. It's almost as if I annoy you or something. Is that what it is Sam? Am I annoying? Do I bother you? What?!” I practically yell at him.

“I love you,” he says, calmly and not initially meeting my eyes. I go to say something else but just stare at him when his words sink in.

“You what?” I said, not immediately grasping what he was saying.

“You’ve been through hell lately, with how everyone treated you at your job and you felt like the whole world was against you, you turned to me and I was always there for you. No matter what time of day, if I was out on a hunt or preoccupied with something else; I stopped for you. And in the midst of it all, I fell in love with you. Never in all my life have I connected with someone the way I have with you and all I want to do is protect you and make sure no one hurts you ever. I just hope you feel the same about me because I haven’t had much in this life but I hope to have you because you are who I am proud of, who I want to wake up to every morning, start a family with, maybe even retire from the hunt.” He said, looking at the tears that were steadily falling from my eyes.

“I love you too Sam. I couldn’t have expected you to be the person I would turn to amid my darkest time but you were always there and you helped me realize there’s more to life than just working a job where I wasn’t appreciated or even valued for that matter. You’ve shown me what it means to love someone more than just myself and to be fully open and raw to someone else and I cannot thank you enough for that. You are my Superman; always there to save my day and my life. You are my heart's desire, my perfect man, the one I hope to spend the rest of my life with. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else.” I admitted and the smile on his face was pure, unbridled joy. He took a few strides and took my face in his hands, just gently but enough for me to feel that he was in control. He took his time, watching my eyes the entire time except for the few times his gaze dropped to my lips and back. Making sure I had given silent permission, he finally brought his lips down to mine, just a small, chaste kiss to test the waters then when he saw my response, he brought our lips back together with a passion and urgency I wasn’t expecting from him. His hands moved from my face to my hips, bringing our bodies flush against one other, fear in both of us that this moment would end. I grabbed ahold of his shirt in both my hands, holding onto him with every ounce of strength I had. When we finally pulled away, there was a sparkle in his eye, one that solidified the next step.

“You know, now that we’re together, we can mess with Dean.” He suggested.

“Oh yeah? Like kicking him out the room or make-out sessions in the backseat of the Impala?” I suggest.

“Ah, now that’s my girl, exactly what I was thinking.” We both laugh before going back in for another kiss. In the end, Sam was who I needed. The person who was always there for me to run to when I just grew too frustrated with life. He was my biggest supporter and always made sure I had everything I needed or ever wanted. And all he ever was, was one call away.

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