#and a lot of my followers are younger than me so you know you gotta protect your own

[floral-hex]

I chopped all my hair off and now I’m 100x more aerodynamic and can probably do spin-kicks and shit

[macfrog]

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

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Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

[eclectickss]

Taste the Tango

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SoftTop(switch if you squint)!Reader, age gap (reader is of age), reader's best friend is Wanda's son, Tommy is graduating high school? (a choice that I don't think I've seen before, so let me know if you like?), Wanda is reader's former teacher, slight alcohol use, smut (fingering, oral)... I think that's everything?

Summary: You are in your hometown the summer before your senior year of college hanging out with your best friend. Unexpectedly, you also get some quality with his mom (and your former teacher).

WC: 10,350 words?!?! (a record for me)

╔══《✧》══╗

"Hey Y/N!" Your gaze shot up from the pavement to the open door ahead, smiling as you saw your best friend standing in the frame.

"Hey Tommy!" You jogged up to hug him, seeing as he and his twin brother just returned from a week long beach trip. You normally wouldn't be this excited to see him, but with complicated summer schedules and school across the country, it had been almost 6 months since the two of you had spent time together.

"This is crazy, I missed you so much!" He backs up and you immediately spot the sparkle in his eye that is easily recognized in the rest of his family.

"I know, me too!" You shook his shoulders and hugged him one more time. "So, you said you had something planned for today?" The two of you walked into the house and towards the kitchen. Your eyes secretly darted around the space for a certain someone, but you are slightly disappointed when you don't see the person you're looking for.

You feel guilty for hoping she would be there, since you were there to spend time with her son, but you couldn't silence your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried.

"Well I know it's kind of silly, but I picked up some rocks we could paint?" He scrunched up his face. "I don't know, I just wanted something mindless we could do while we caught up."

"Are you kidding, that sounds great!" You smiled.

"Alright, awesome! I've gotta head out by six so I can meet Ruby for dinner, but we have plenty of time," he said as you followed him back to his room. Ruby was his girlfriend of six months, so it prided you to know that hanging out with you was his priority.

The two of you made it to his room and he encouraged you to sit down as he left to get art supplies. Just before you were able to sit though, a voice reached into the depths of your mind.

"I knew I heard a familiar voice!" You turned around and there she was, as breathtaking as ever. Wanda Maximoff. The way her soft eyes met yours and her red wavy hair sat just above her shoulders made you melt. You prayed the moment would last forever, but the passing seconds were inevitable.

"Hi!" You excitedly walked over to your former teacher to give her a hug, painfully ignoring all other emotions you were feeling.

"How are you, Y/N?" She moved out of the hug, cheeks grazing, making you briefly look away.

"I'm absolutely wonderful, how about you?"

"I'm alright," she spoke as she softly smiled. "Are you excited for your last year of college?" She leaned up against the doorframe.

"I guess so? I love California, but I can hardly wait until I'm done with school already so that I can come home. Are you ready to become an empty nester?"

Billy and Tommy were three years younger than you, so they were just about to begin their college journey as you were ready to bring yours to a close. Tommy was only going to university an hour away and Billy five hours, but you imagined it would still be a lot for both boys to be leaving the house at once.

"Oh hush, dear." Ms. Maximoff playfully shoved your shoulder, a gesture you struggled to not linger on. "I don't wanna hear that talk. Let me soak in my boys being home while I can. And you being here while I can." She smiled with a small glint in her eye, but you knew she was dreading the boys' absence.

"Oh well, two more semesters and you won't be able to get rid of me."

"Perhaps it's selfish to say that we can't wait to have you back either, but I know you'll accomplish wonderful things in your last year there." She placed a hand on your shoulder and instinctively you placed your own on top of hers.

You internally panicked, worried that you were being too affectionate for a teacher/student/best friend's mother relationship, but she just moved to gently caress your cheek and proceeded to walk away.

You could hardly process your thoughts as your brain replayed the previous moment over and over, but this torturous habit is nothing you weren't unfamiliar with.

Every day that went by with Ms. Maximoff in your presence was a day to strenuously remember. You mentally recorded her words, her movements and her reactions. Time slowed with her around as you soaked in every detail about her possible.

Every day that went by without her was filled with daydreaming and guilt. You always wondered how she would react to something, or how she would respond in a private conversation. You tried to picture her thoughts and envision her smile before you. You hated how much you thought about her, yet craved to dream of her.

She was your high school english teacher, your best friend's mother, and your go-to mentor in any sticky situation.

She has already given you so much, and you despised the fact that you wanted more. You knew it was wrong, but she was your addiction.

"Earth to Y/N," A hand waved in front of your face and you quickly realized that Tommy had returned with the rocks and art supplies.

"Oh, hey Tommy!" You rubbed your eyes in shock.

"Where'd you go there?" He laughed and sat down on the floor.

"I uhh... can't remember." You lied, joining him on the floor, not letting him see the guilty emotions written across your face.

---

Hours pass as the two of you work on your rocks and talk.

You tell him all about your travels while he fills you in on everything that happened at the beach and on his trips prior.

You love listening to all his little stories, especially those where his mom is involved. One of your favorite stories was when he talked about her affliction with the terrible kitchen at the beach house. She wouldn't stop complaining about the quality of the stove, which you ended up finding rather funny.

You asked him if she even actually used the stove, and he said no, which made you laugh out loud. Supposedly she apologized at the end of the trip for making such a big deal out of it.

He thought it was stupid, but you found it cute.

Of course that was something that she would do.

"What else crazy did she do on the trip?" You couldn't stop yourself from inquiring about her. Tommy never caught onto your special interest as he laughed it off and launched into the next story.

"So it was movie time, right?" He starts and you nod. "Well mom and I were advocating for She's Funny That Way since we're both madly in love with Kathryn Hahn."

You cackle and quickly agree with their side. "Of course."

"But Billy and Auntie Nat wanted to watch Knives Out!"

"I thought you liked that movie..."

"Ok yes, but Kathryn Hahn or Chris Evans?"

You thought about it for a moment. "Fair Enough." This made you wonder though about Ms. Maximoff's interest in Kathryn Hahn. There's no way she's.... attracted to her, right?

If Ms. Maximoff actually liked women, the hole you've dug for yourself would become infinitely deeper.

"Anyways, so mom, out of nowhere, says, 'You wanna watch Knives Out? Well guess what, Chris Evans is the villain and Ana de Armas gets the estate and money,' and Nat and Billy were furious."

"Oh my gosh!" You laughed with your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "So did you guys end up watching She's Funny That Way?"

"Well mom and I did. Billy and Nat went off to watch something else."

"Wow! That was vile!"

"It really was intense." He laughed and the conversation paused as both of you returned your attention to your rocks. Right before your paintbrush hit the surface though, his phone alarm went off.

"Aw, shoot. That's my timer for Ruby. We gotta clean up."

"That's alright." You gave him a soft smile. "We do have the last two weeks to hang out before I go, and I understand I'm not the only important person in your life."

He looked at you and smiled. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, you dork. Now let's clean these brushes and get these rocks outside to dry."

The two of you were cutting it real close to six once everything was cleaned, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Tommy in the driveway just as Ruby had pulled in to pick him up.

"Alright, Y/N, we'll hang out soon!" He hugged you and stepped back.

"Oh you know it."

He followed you to your car, but you quickly realized you had left your keys inside.

"You know, I think I left my keys on your floor, but don't bother waiting for me to drive away. Go have fun with Ruby."

"Alright. My mom will let you in if it's locked." He hugged you one more time and joined his girlfriend in her car. You released a breath of air and headed back to the house, happy to see that the kitchen door was still unlocked.

Ms. Maximoff was standing in the room though when you walked in.

"Oh, hey Y/N/N! Did you forget something?" She looked up from the cutting board and veggies on the counter.

"Yeah. My keys are somewhere in Tommy's room," you said as you headed in that direction.

"Oh, so you're not back because you forgot to say 'goodbye' to me?" She teased.

"You read my mind!" You yelled from down the hall, embarrassed by how quickly you turned red.

Your keys were rather easy to find, but you took a bit longer to collect yourself before exiting Tommy's room.

"So," she said as you re-entered the kitchen. "What are you doing with your last two weeks before heading back to California?"

You were caught off guard with her conversation starter, but you were overjoyed that she wanted to talk. You leaned back onto the counter to face her.

"Well, it's all just trying to hang out with friends, even though most of them are off doing internships or traveling. I'm honestly just hanging around home a bunch," you shrugged.

"What, you didn't want to travel or anything?" She said as she continued to work on the cutting board at her fingertips.

"You know me, Ms. Maximoff, I love home just a little too much." You smiled and looked at your feet.

"Wanda, dear." She stopped her chopping and looked directly at you. "I was Ms. Maximoff to you because I was your teacher, but we've been over this, darling. Wanda, please."

You sighed. "It just... feels weird!"

"Ok, well you know what we do when things feel weird, Y/N?"

You looked at her questioningly.

"We practice, dear." She stepped around the kitchen island to lean on the counter across from you, and your thoughts started to get louder. "Say it. Say my name." She openly challenged you, so you had to accept.

"W- Wanda?" Your insides were burning.

"With confidence, dear."

You took a breath. "Wanda." You exclaimed, meeting her gaze from a few feet away.

"Good girl. Now use it in a sentence."

You blushed, knowing she saw it, but hoping she assumed it was from your discomfort. "Like... what?"

"Well, I don't know! A compliment, a question, a simple statement? I don't care, just say something. Anything." She commanded as your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I think your eyes are gorgeous, Wanda." Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out. The woman across from you seemed to freeze briefly. "I mean- your eyes, Tommy and Billy's eyes... you all have the same eyes. I think... I think they're pretty. Wanda." FUCK.

Wanda still hadn't moved, her gaze digging into your soul. She finally took a breath, leaving a long pause in the conversation.

"What do you think of me, Y/N?"

"What?" Disbelief dripping from your reply as the intonation behind her question became lost on you.

"How do you process my image? My persona?" Wanda playfully smirked. "It must at least be slightly askew since I was your teacher, but what role do I play in your life?" She moved some cooking items away from the edge of the counter, proving to you that you had her full attention.

"Do you want me to be honest or uncomfortably honest?"

"I want to know why you chose me. Why you always turned in my homework but nobody else's. Why you wrote me thank you notes and asked me to write your college recommendation letters... why you confide in me and why you respect me so much..."

You stood in shock, feeling your body start to shake from the nerves. Your shoes all of a sudden became really interesting.

"Uncomfortably honest it is, then." You gave a long sigh and glanced back up to see her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

"It was one of the first lectures you gave me in 11th grade. I had started to realize that I was more introverted than I wanted to be, so I challenged myself to break out of that shell. I started doing that by speaking up in class. You had asked a question about our summer reading, and because I already knew you through Tommy, I felt comfortable to answer.

"To my surprise, you started a debate with me... and I didn't back down... and then you applauded me for standing up for something I believed in. That made me want to pay a lot more attention to you." You paused to take a breath, making sure the other woman was still paying attention. Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, but stayed silent to let you continue. "I started to listen to every word that came out of your mouth. I memorized every piece of information you shared, I watched what candy you picked out of the bag first, I payed attention to what music you were listening to, what books you were reading." You paused. "And so I started to notice things.

"You work to understand every single story in the room. You want to help as many people as possible, and you don't let their faults get in your way. You have a passion for what you teach and you want to share it with the world. You have good and bad days just like the rest of us, and you allowed me to see that. You are kind, empathetic, beautiful, and I have a great deal of respect for the way you carry yourself, Wanda."

Your heart raced as the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. You had just poured your heart out to the one person who was never supposed to know anything. Wanda was speechless, which made you nervous. You continued to ramble.

"And- and its tricky because Tommy is genuinely my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him... but if you're wondering what I think of you, I don't know what I'd do without you either. This family has made me who I am today. And it's all very complicated and confusing and difficult to navigate."

Wanda's eyes still stood stagnant, but you couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Why do you ask?" You quietly gulped, praying some sound would exit her mouth.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? Billy is with friends tonight and Tommy is with Ruby, as you know, so I fear I have nobody to eat with." Wanda returned her attention to the preparations. The change of subject caught you off guard, but the opportunity to spend time with her was never something you wanted to turn down.

"Uh... sure! Let me just tell my mom I won't be home for our frozen pizza dinner." You made a goofy face that Wanda found hilarious after you commented on your other dinner option.

"Wonderful." A beautiful smile spread across her face as she pulled another plate out of the cupboard and set it on the dining table. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" The offer felt odd coming from the older woman, but it's easy to forget that you're legally allowed to accept alcoholic beverages now.

"That would be nice." You gave her a soft smile.

"I can't believe you're old enough to drink now... better for me so I won't be drinking alone," You both laughed. "Red or white, darling?"

"Whatever you're having." Wanda practically waltzed around the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?" You asked as she handed you a glass of red.

Wanda paused her movements and looked at you with a silly yet impressed smile. "Well... have you ever made paprikash darling?" She asked and you shook your head. "Would you like to learn?"

"Absolutley." You grinned and Wanda took a sip of her wine.

"Wonderful." She held out her hand for you to join her at the cutting board. "We've got to dice two onions, one tomato and one pepper, as well as mince two cloves of garlic." She placed the kitchen knife in front of you. "I like to use four cloves of garlic though," she nearly whispered in your ear.

"Do you know your way around a cutting board?"

"Uhh... not really?"

"A teaching opportunity then! You can never get away from me, can you?" Wanda's words were spinning in your head even though you knew they were not intended to be. The older woman stepped behind you, moving the knife to your left hand.

"How did you know I was left handed?"

"I pay attention, dear." She casually replied. "Now curl your fingers on your right hand like this-" She placed her palm on top of the back of your hand. "And hold the knife like..." She adjusted the positioning of your thumb and pointer finger. "Good. This is the best way to avoid chopping an extremity off." Your eyes widened, thankful Wanda couldn't see the fear written on your face.

"All that's left to do is slice." She grabbed the readied onion and placed it in the center of the board. Before you knew it, she was guiding your hand through the vegetable while pressing you into the counter from behind. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed as the slice of onion fell onto the board. "Now you keep going!" She stepped out behind you and you tried your hardest to not sulk at her absence.

You missed Wanda's warmth, but nevertheless, you continued slicing and she continued watching.

"Good girl." She spoke the words again, nearly making you loose focus with a dangerous object in your hand. "Now you cut in the opposite direction. I was never good with onions so as long as the pieces look somewhat like cubes, you will have done a wonderful job." That made you laugh and you continued working.

"So tell me more about college! I love having you here but we never get one-on-one time like this. How is your degree path, your teachers, friends? Are you seeing anyone?" The last question was delivered in a goofy, sultry manner as Wanda pulled raw chicken out of the fridge.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. "To get the most pressing question out of the way, I am not seeing anyone. I was slightly interested in a graduate student but we decided it would be better to stay friends. Plus, who gets lucky enough to date a graduate student?"

"A graduate student, eh? How did the two of y'all meet anyways?"

"Well she used to live in the rental where I am now, so I received some old mail of hers. Who woulda thought that the nearly outdated postal service of America almost brought two women together?"

Your joke made Wanda cackle as she turned on the stove to heat the pot.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to date women on campus, dear. That would have been so much more complicated in my day." She stirred the melting butter in the pan.

"Oh Wanda, don't say 'in my day', that makes you sound like a dinosaur!" You laughed.

"Well, honey, I am a dinosaur!"

"Oh shut up, no you're not. I am shocked every day that there aren't sad little high school boys making rude comments to your face or handsome men on your tail." The room oddly fell silent and you immediately started reflecting on what you had said. You put down the knife even though you were nearly done with the tomato. "When you made the comment about back in your day... - did you... do you wish you had the opportunity to date women?"

An all-telling silence came from Wanda.

"You'd rather have beautiful women on your tail? Is that it?" You smiled at her a little bit, just to make sure she knew that you understood.

"Well... I guess so. The whole 'men' thing only did me one good and that is my boys. Their dad, Vision, was just a good friend and it took me a really long time to realize that."

"That makes perfect sense Wanda." You almost hesitate with your next question, but it feels natural to ask. "Is there any woman that you've ever been particularly curious about?"

Immediately, you could tell Wanda had an answer, but her various facial expressions made it difficult to decipher if she was going to tell you or not. Finally, a glimmer of playfulness lit in her eye.

"Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Tommy."

"So we both know this person then! She must be from school!" You exclaimed, getting excited.

"SHHH!" She looked at you seriously. "I always wondered how I really felt about Carol but she got herself a partner back in May."

It took you a moment to figure out who Wanda was talking about. "Wait- Carol as in Ms. Danvers Carol Danvers?!?" Wanda sheepishly nodded and you smiled wide. "Wanda, I can't blame you at all. Carol was hot at hell." You returned to your tomato, smirking.

"Excuse me!" Wanda was shocked at your remark.

"Oh, c'mon, Wanda. You must know that students talk about a few teachers. Mostly the boys... but they still talk. Danvers was a popular topic in my graduating class! Even I added a comment occaisonally..." You mumbled as you watched Wanda return her eyes to the stove with a scoff.

"Unbelievable." Fake disgust dripped from Wanda's voice as you held back your laugh. She pulled the chicken out of the pot and grabbed the onions from your board, tossing them into the oil. "You said a few teachers..." She whipped back around. "Who else was on the hot commodity list?"

You playfully scoffed. "Well there was coach Wilson amongst the girls and also Ms. Hill with the guys."

"Interesting."

"Oh, and of course we can't forget you."

"EXCUSE ME?"

You let out an outrageous burst of laughter. "What?! All of the students fangirl over how nice you are if they aren't upset with their grades in your class! The boys love how mysterious and alluring you are and the girls think you're extremely personable, which is true."

Wanda let a brief silence fall on the conversation. "And you?"

You paused. "I already told you what I think of you Wanda." You smiled and handed her the rest of the chopped veggies. "Here you go." A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Wanda continued to work, claiming there was nothing else for you to do at the moment. Eventually, she covered the pot she had been focusing on and turned the kitchen timer on.

"We've got about thirty minutes of waiting before there will be anything else to do," she spoke as she finally poured more wine into the both of your empty glasses. "I hope you liked this red, darling. I don't know how experienced you are with alcohol yet... although i'm assuming it's more so than you should be for your age."

You giggled. "I have maybe had my fair share of underage drinking, just like any decent college kid might," you replied as you accepted the glass from Wanda and followed her to the nearby couch. You both got comfortable and you watched as the older woman pulled a blanket across her thighs. The absence of conversation began to feel a little overwhelming, but you weren't expecting Wanda to break it with the next sentence she spoke.

"You're actually the first person i've told about liking women," she began. You raised your eyebrows in shock. Not that she hasn't told anyone before, just that the first person she wants to confide in is you.

"Wow." You began. "I don't know if I'm the most appropriate person to offer this, but do you have any questions? I am comfortable answering anything as long as you are comfortable asking." You stared at Wanda as you sipped your wine, watching the gears turn in her head.

"Yes I-" Her hesitations finally diminished. "Have you ever dated a man?" You were not expecting that.

"Yes, I tried. I was in a similar situation where he was my best friend. This was in 9th grade, that is, but I still knew that I was supposed to feel more."

"How is it different?"

"Than women?" You watched as Wanda nodded. "Well there is an objective answer and a personal answer. The objective one goes to say that it comes down to the person and how you connect with them. How your life experiences tie together and whatnot. Objectively, I can't say that much because every individual is unique. Personally though, women are infinitely better."

This made Wanda laugh, which you were quickly realizing you would give anything to hear more and more of.

"They better understand your life experiences and how to navigate emotional situations, especially the mature ones. The way they display affection is usually more personable and caring, too. They also are more attentive to details, both mentally and physically."

"How so?"

You could feel the alcohol beginning to stir, making it harder for some thoughts and words to stay away from your brain. "Well mentally, women tend to catch onto social cues faster, like when their partner needs a break or needs to eat or needs cuddles or space. Physically, they pay more attention to how your lips move and how you like to be kissed, not just where." You noticed Wanda's eyes following the path of your lips and jawline, making you stammer for a moment.

"What else?"

You gulped, beginning to realize you had no idea how far this conversation would go. "Well, The body parts that they work to please are also the same parts they touch in their free time. They know how moving on something feels different than something moving on it... and so on."

Wanda tried to verbally confirm that she understood but you could tell she was a little lost in her head. She took a big sip of wine. And another.

"I was reading something the other day..." Wanda drew out and took a big breath. "Her tongue was on the...- and she had two fingers in-" Wanda stared at her hands, oblivious to the glaze over your eyes as your listened to your former teacher talk about fucking another woman. "Is that even possible?"

"Uh- um- yea- yes. It is. It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to do it comfortably but - yes."

It was now your turn to take a big sip of wine.

"Oh I see."

"Do you have any other questions?" You know you shouldn't, but you wanted her to say yes. Your heart was racing and you could feel a velvety slick form in your pants.

"How are your classes going?" Her tone changed but she was still focused on her hands.

You let out a big gust of air from the tension you were feeling, semi relieved that the conversation had changed but also slightly confused. "Uh, classes are good. I've got most of the hard ones out of the way, so it's really just the fun ones left."

"Like what?"

"Well I have a science elective left so I'm taking intro to geology which is supposed to be wonderful. I've also signed up for a Shakespeare lecture that should be phenomenal too. It's being taught by my favorite professor, so I can't wait to have her again."

Wanda's eyes glanced up at that. "Again?"

"Yeah, I had her for my ethics class in freshman year and she was excellent. One of those teachers whose work I actually enjoyed doing. She really understood the students and designed her class structure to fit our interests."

Wanda didn't want to address the confusion that she was experiencing... almost jealousy, but the next question did not hesitate to fall from her lips.

"Do you have a picture?"

This caught you off guard. "Uh, yeah, I bet I could find her Linked-In or something." You pulled out your phone for a quick internet search. "Here she is on the school website."

You moved your phone in front of Wanda, not realizing until now how similar the two of them looked. Wanda also took notice.

"Was she on the list?" Wanda asked. "The list of teachers that students would talk about?"

"Oh, ha, no she wasn't." This line of questioning was risky, but you continued producing a response. "She was only part time and besides, that's more of a hormonal high school thing."

A brief pause entered the conversation. "Well, would she have been?" Wanda was speaking softly.

"Well, you were in high school once. What do you think?"

"Me?" Wanda's eyes widened and you nodded. "I think she would have been," the older woman drew out.

"I think you're right, Ms. Maximoff." You smirked as you took your phone back.

The two of you spent the rest of the half hour dancing around dangerous conversation, the mood lightening a little bit. You gained some insight into how the high school was holding up, and even heard some gossip about the faculty which made you really excited. You told Wanda more about what you were studying and what your plans were for after university, as well as how your summer was.

When dinner was finally ready, Wanda topped off the wine and the two of you sat down together to eat. The food was phenomenal and the company even better. The two of you went back and forth sharing memories from high school, true feelings about teachers and students being poured out. Wanda also got to know you more as you shared what books you had been reading and shows you had been watching.

Eventually, the room had quieted down as the two of you were focused on finishing the rest of your food.

"The food was astounding, thank you so much Wanda." You smiled as you set down your utensils and the older woman took her last bite.

"Mhm..." She swallowed, covering her mouth. "I would say 'you're welcome' but you helped me cook, dear, so I should really be saying thank you."

Your eyes met as the two of you stared, an odd silence threatening the conversation.

"So, clean up! What can I do to help?" You asked, standing up from the table with your plate.

"Oh, no, dear, please let me take care of it!" Before you knew it, Wanda had snatched your plate out of your hands.

"Are you-"

"Yes, yes, just sit down honey." She smiled at you as she moved around the kitchen, swiftly cleaning the mess from dinner. "So what has been your favorite class so far?" She asked as she worked. "Besides- besides that class with that teacher you like." The comment unintentionally sounded bitter, and the idea of Wanda being jealous entertained you.

"Well, besides ethics, I actually really liked my required fitness class. The semester I dedicated to the credit was a popular fitness semester, so finding an open section was hard, but I was able to get a seat in ballroom dance."

"Interesting! I didn't take you for much of a dancer." Wanda looked up at you from the sink, smiling.

"Neither did I, Wanda." You heard her lovely laugh again. "And I was not the star student in the class either, but I think I liked it the most."

"Oh yeah? What was your favorite dance?"

"The tango," you replied as you smiled, some bout of confidence overcoming you. "Would you like to learn?"

Wanda paused what she was doing then looked up at you with a smile. "Bold of you to assume to I don't already know it, but you would also be right. I would be open to it." She replied and you giggled, pulling out your phone for some music.

"Oh, now?!" Wanda watched as you stood up. "Honey, I-"

"No better time like the present!" You held out your hand for her to join you, the alcohol adding to your charm and boldness.

"Ok..." Wanda mumbled, wiping her hands off on the closest rag. She joined you in the open space, placing her hand in yours and you guiding it into place.

"Now the tango is a walking dance, so it is perfect to take it slow and steady. There are 5 basic steps, but i'll keep it simple and teach you two." Wanda nodded as you pressed play on your phone. "Now, screw traditional roles, but for the sake of simplicity, I will be the man and you the woman." You locked eyes with Wanda as she smiled, but you could see the looming intimacy behind her eyes. You could feel it too, standing this close to her body as you placed your hand on her back.

Teaching the first step was easy - Wanda was more inclined to the movements than you thought she would be. All you two were doing was striding in a circle, but every step you took became lighter and relaxing into each other was easier. Her nose tilted further towards you and yours towards hers - and for a moment, nothing else existed in the world.

Wanda was staring into yours eyes and you could barely breathe. Staring back was difficult - you kept averting your gaze to the floor or elsewhere in the house, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. But it was magical. Once you discovered though, that Wanda's piercing green eyes were the most relaxing thing to focus on, you were stuck.

And then you stepped on her toe.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, tripping as Wanda struggled to keep you from falling.

"Are you alright?" She asked as you composed yourself.

"I should be asking you that! I'm sorry."

Wanda laughed. "I'm perfectly alright darling. Now what's this about a second step?"

You blushed, Wanda essentially admitting she was enjoying this and wanted to continue. This was bizarre.

"Uh, it's pretty much the same for me. You get to shake it up a little bit."

"Oh?" She smiled and held her hands back out, awaiting the comfort of your return. You stepped into her grasp. "I can't wait," She winked.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

"Uh-m... - good!" You swallowed. "This is essentially the same as the last one, except now you're pivoting into me instead of pacing." You returned your hands to their proper placements.

"Like this?" She attempted a few steps with you.

"Almost. You don't need so much power to twist. Try again?" The two of you resumed stepping together.

"How's this?"

She almost had it, her knees just weren't getting the proper guidance. You dropped your hands down to her hips.

"Oh-" You froze. "May I?" Your hands were softly touching her jeans. You found Wanda staring, eventually returning a nod. Gently, you applied more pressure onto her joints and resumed stepping. Now, you could easily move her hips, and she quickly picked up the proper motion. "There you go." You looked back up at her eyes. "You're doing so well, Wanda."

She was speechless as you moved your hands back up to their proper position, rarely letting your fingertips leave her surface. It was easy to assume that a lot was going on behind her eyes... the step became mindless to her as she continuously scanned over your facial features.

"Wanda?"

She snapped out of it and ended the dance just as the song ended. "Thank you for teaching me, darling." She smiled softly. "That was wonderful." She returned to the kitchen in silence, leaving you alone.

"You were able to pick it up rather quickly. I was surprised." You said, following her to the kitchen and leaning against a counter. You could tell though that there were still gears turning in her head, so you let her be the one to talk next.

This allowed for a moment of quiet as you watched her finish cleaning the pot from dinner. Her back was to you as she washed and rinsed, softly humming the song from the tango.

When she was done, she still hesitated to turn around.

"Y/N?" She finally spoke, still away from you.

"Yes?"

"When I asked you what you thought of me, you said...- you said you thought I was beautiful."

You quietly laughed. "Out of all that I said, that's what you took away?"

"Darling, I-" she hesitated again. "Did you mean it?"

You did not wait to conjure up a response. "I meant every word of what I said. I mean... I have practiced telling you all of that nonsense for so long even though I never thought it would happen. I just want you to know that... that I care about you. And I do think you're beautiful, Wanda Maximoff. Without a doubt."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She tried not to choke on her words.

You took a deep breath, having done all possible damage already. "Yes, yes I do." You hesitated before speaking again. "I think that you are beautiful. Inside and out."

Wanda finally turned around, and her response was something you couldn't have predicted in a million years.

"I... I think that you are beautiful too."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"You do?"

"In every single way, you are beautiful." She paused. "The way that you carry yourself... the way you smile, the way you laugh. The moments you hold onto and the memories you make. The way your eyes shine when you're proud of something... all of it is beautiful."

She pushed off the counter and walked towards you as a tear formed in your eye. Her hand reached up to brush it away as it rolled down your cheek, but instead of placing it back at her side, her hand stayed cradling the side of your face. Your eyes raced as you traced every line and mark on her skin, noticing how her green glazed stare wouldn't look away.

The two of you stayed like that, simply staring at each other, hearts racing.

"Y/N?" Her eyes didn't leave yours.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Ok."

For the first time in what felt like hours, her eyes left yours, and instead went to your lips. She met your gaze one more time before slowly leaning in, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't believe what was happening as everything in your body burned. She used her hand to tilt your lips in her direction, and before you knew it, her mouth was on yours.

You initially didn't return the kiss, but before long, her sensation became addicting and you needed to know what more felt like.

Your lips were now pushing back on hers with curiosity and interest, slowly working through the feelings coursing through your entire body. Her mouth only briefly left yours before you were returning to another delicate kiss, delighted to see that it was being reciprocated with the small swipe of a tongue.

You let her into your mouth, eager to know what it felt like.

And whatever she was doing... well... it rocked your world. You caught yourself about to moan, which quickly brought you to your senses as you pushed her away.

"Oh my god." You took a deep breath and stared at the floor.

"What?" 

"You kissed me." You looked up and found her gaze full of lust; dark eyes roaming your body unapologetically. You couldn't believe that look was real, but the excitement consumed you.

"You kissed me back." She said, finding your stare again. The only thing worse than her intense gaze was the fact that she was right.

You were finding it very difficult not to pull her back on top of you. "Shit."

"Did you- were you ok with that?" Wanda asked nervously. She seems as nervous as you were, almost as if she couldn't believe what was happening either. Neither of you knew that you wanted this, but everything feels right now that it's there.

"Fuck, yes." You rubbed your face in frustration, struggling to function in the current situation. The nerves, heat and alcohol were all mixing together and before you knew it, the real uncomfortable truth slipped out.

"I'm fucking obsessed with you, Ms. Maximoff." You held your breath after messing up on her name, but instead of correcting you, her jaw slightly dropped at your desperation.

Out of some bout of confidence, you stepped into her space, backed her into the counter and dismissed every reason why the two of you should not happen. Her eyes stared you down with anticipation and desire. You brought your hands up to her head and wove your fingers into her hair, craving to feel her again.

"It's my turn to do something really stupid now, ok?"

She nodded slowly, afraid to avert her gaze.

As you leaned in towards her mouth, she took a deep breath and shuttered. Her hands moved to hold your hips just before your lips met, and this time, it was her turn to freeze once your mouth touched hers. You immediately began to panic, but just as you pulled away, she pulled your hips into hers and met your mouth with haste.

Immediately melting into her touch, a soft moan quickly escaped your lips as you tugged on her fiery locks. She gasped in return, giving you the chance to slide your tongue into her mouth and elicit a sound off of her shaky breath.

After all of your longing and pining and secrecy and wishful thinking, she was yours. Right now, as her fingertips were feeling your body for the first time and her sensation was consuming, you were struggling to believe that everything was real.

But the warm skin touching your side was undeniable. The wet tongue that was gently exploring your mouth was unquestionable, and the moans that were escaping the woman in front of you were unlike anything you could conjure in a dream.

One of your hands shakily released its grasp on Wanda's hair and made its way around her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. When your action resulted in a smooth moan from the other woman, you smirked, not expecting that in a million years. You brought that hand down to her waist so you could hold her body as close as possible.

"You liked that, Ms. Maximoff?" You breathed into her mouth, knowing she could sense your heated grin.

"Shut up and do it again."

You lightly laughed at her begging, but you were desperate to please her. Leaning in to kiss her again, you pushed your hand on her waist from her belly button back up to her neck, this time squeezing harder. She threw her head back from the pleasuring pain, which you saw as an opportunity to turn your mouth's attention to her neck. As your warm lips met her skin and your hands went to roam her curves, she audibly gasped, and you were soaking up every reaction that you could drag out of her.

Wanda's hands found the back of your head as she encouraged your sucking and biting, careless of how aggressive you were being. Your own fingertips began to entertain the rim of her jeans, testing the waters as you caressed her lower back. You were itching to move lower, but every aspect of the current situation was territory that you never imagined you would be in before.

"Where can I touch you?" You whispered under her ear.

She laughed, followed by a soft moan as you bit her lobe. "Oh, detka, we've moved way past that line of consent," She replied as she grabbed one of your hands and moved it to her ass. "I want to feel you. All of you."

"Yes ma'am," You smirked and returned your kisses to her neck, placing both hands on her ass and pulling her hips into you. A groan reached your ears as your tongue met the base of her collar bone.

With your mouth now at the top of her shirt, your hands traced her sides as you bent your knees to meet her clothed belly button. Grasping and lifting the bottom of her shirt with your fingers, you began to stand back up, slowly kissing and licking a straight line up her front to where her bra connected in the center.

"Wait," She said as you were about to teethe the fabric, immediately dropping the shirt and standing all the way back up. Your heart was racing, unable to predict what she was about to say. She looked as if she was genuinely questioning the situation, and you were terrified. "Bedroom. Now."

Before you could process the sense of relief that washed over your body, Wanda was dragging you towards the hallway that led to her room. Even though you'd been in her space several times, the idea of fucking her in her own bed was driving you mad.

Before either of you could make it two steps into the room, you shut the door and placed her up against the wood. For a moment, all you could do was stare into her eyes, and all she could do was stare back. This was crazy. Her hand twitched on your back, and you lost control.

You immediately pressed your lips back onto hers, lifting her wrists up and holding them against the door. She groaned as your tongue explored her mouth, your hands eventually finding their way back to the rim of her shirt. Now wasting no time, you lifted the article of clothing off of her body as she gladly held her arms above her head.

After tossing the shirt aside, you found yourself taken aback by her body. Her simple, red bra complimented her soft skin, hugging her gently. The stretch marks that remained from her pregnancy were like highlights of the moon reflecting off of the ocean, and the way her breasts moved with her heavy breathing had you in a trance.

"Holy shit," you whispered, slowly moving your mouth towards her sternum, beginning to place soft kisses in a line.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"You're breathtaking."

"Well, I'm not what I used to be."

Your hands roamed her back as you continued your delicate kisses on her breasts.

"I don't want what you used to be, Wanda. I think you're perfect the way you are now." You said as you unclipped her bra, slipping the straps off of her shoulders. The two of you locked eyes as you slid the article down her arms. Her swollen lips and wondrous gaze were stuck on your being as your lungs seemed to be missing air.

To your surprise, Wanda's next move was to lunge at you, forcing you to walk backwards as her tongue explored your mouth and her hands worked to remove your shirt. You jumped when the backs of your knees met the bed, but Wanda didn't seem to notice as she pushed you back and climbed on top. Distracted by the feeling of being in her bed and her tongue beginning to explore your chest, you tangled your fingers into her hair and tugged.

"Fuck," She moaned, looking up at you, and you froze. A pair of of desperate green eyes and wet, swollen lips were staring up at you, and your english teacher had just moaned a curse word. You felt like you were on another planet.

"Shit, you're attractive." You mumbled and the older woman blushed. "Tugging hair, choking... this is only the beginning, Wanda." You smirked at her from under her body, and her only response was kissing you deeply.

You used this moment as an opportunity to push her on her back, quickly mounting her before she could protest, although you don't think she would have. You took the moment to drag your fingertips down her front and run each nipple over with your thumbs.

"Oh, Fuck, babygirl, you're driving me-" You eagerly latched your mouth onto a breast, receiving a heavy gasp from the woman below you. You continued on with your work, playing with the free nipple in one hand and stroking a thigh with the other. Her fingers were dancing across your back, eventually making their way to unclasp your bra.

The moment you felt the relief, you gently bit down on her delicate nipple, causing Wanda to arch upwards and rake her nails down your back. The pain caught you by surprise as you leaned into her and moaned into her ear. You could feel her smirk against your skin.

"Shut up." You groaned.

"Make me." She replied, trying to tug your bra down your arms.

You sat up to fully remove the article of clothing, entertained by the hands that were running up your side to cup your breasts. You rested for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Wanda's massaging.

"Is this what you wanted from me, detka? Is this what you picture when you think of me?"

"To be honest, I never let myself consider it. But I always wondered what it would be like..." You smirked and placed your hands on her stomach. "Why? Is this something you've fantasized about? Having me on top of you, topless and moaning?" You leaned back over her body, your hands moving to massage her breasts and your breath teasing her other nipple.

"Oh honey," She laughed and moved her touches to and down your back. "I've thought about all of this. What your mouth on my tits would be like, how your fingers would feel inside of me..." Your movements stopped as you stared at her. "How hard would you fuck me and with how many fingers and how much tongue. How much would you edge me and make me crazy. What you would look like in-between my legs with my cum dripping from your lips? I'm simply curious, darling." Her hands cupped your ass as you worked up a response.

"Well aren't you lucky, Ms. Maximoff," You began with a shakey voice, one hand holding you up and the other teasing her stomach. "Cause you get to find out." You moved your fingers to the top her jeans and you popped the button open. "Have you ever pictured me rubbing out your cunt?" Wanda simply stared. "Well, we should probably start there." You slid your hands into her jeans and started making circles over her clothed pussy, watching as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. You could feel her slickness in the fabric.

"Fuck, Wanda, you're already drenched." You groaned as you finally placed your lips on her other breast. Her wet cunt was already coating your fingers and you realized that you were so close to tasting her. "You're so wet for me, I've hardly done anything."

"Darling, you've done more for me than anyone else ever has." She groaned.

"Do you want me to do more?"

"Baby, please."

You immediately took your hand out of her jeans and turned your attention to taking them off entirely. You could hardly contain yourself as she lifted her hips and helped you slide the denim off of her skin, her now drenched panties completely visible.

"Wow," You whispered, crawling back on top of her body, bringing your face up to hers so your noses could meet again.

"Hi," She smiled sheepishly, and you gave her a loving kiss.

"Gods, you're stunning. I can't wait to be inside you." You kissed her again.

"I want to touch you too, babygirl." Wanda whispered and you smiled.

"Touch anything you'd like, Ms. Maximoff."

Wanda's eyes scanned your body. "I also want these off." She pulled at the hem of your pants then dragged her fingernails up and down your sides.

Shivering, you dismounted Wanda and stood up, putting on a show of you taking off your pants.

"You mean these old things?" You bent over so Wanda could see the fabric sliding down your ass, taking your time even though it was painful.

"Detka, you're killing me." Wanda sat up to watch as the hem dragged down your legs, revealing your most flattering panties. The attention she was giving you was lighting you on fire. You heard her audibly gasp when you started to pull at the final piece of clothing, but you instead let go of your panties and turned back around, smirking.

"Now, Ms. Maximoff, I can't do all of the work for you." You waltzed back over to the bed, remounting the older woman. You watched as her eyes followed the dark spot on your only remaining article. Grinning, you leaned into her ear. "Ill touch yours if you touch mine."

"Please, baby." She whispered. You sat up so she could see all of you again, this time reaching a hand down to where your panties covered your pussy. Making sure she was watching, you pulled the fabric aside.

"Go on, Wanda, it's all yours."

She slowly reached a hand to your slickness, and the moment you finally felt contact, you took a deep breath. At first, she just held one finger there, but eventually, small movements began to circle your clit. You moaned. "Good job, M- Ms. Maxi- mo--" She slipped a finger into you. "FUCK. You feel so good. You're doing so good." You noticed Wanda's eyes were glued to her finger moving in and out of you, trying to fill in the picture that was still hidden by the thin fabric.

You opened your eyes just in time to see her pull out her finger and bring it up to her lips, sensually sucking you off and whining at your taste. Excitedly, you let go of your panties and leaned down to taste yourself on her tongue.

"How did that feel, Wanda?" You smirk, coming out of the deep kiss and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

"God- babygirl... you- you're driving me crazy." Her hips softly rolled under you as she pulled your head back down for another aching kiss. You ran the hand that wasn't supporting your weight over her breasts and down her body, scratching at the skin below her belly button. "Please, honey... I..." She mumbled in-between kisses, you hardly giving her a chance to speak. When you finally pulled away a few inches, no more words were leaving her lips as her chest heaved for air. 

"What is it, Ms. Maximoff?" You smirked, playing with the elastic around her waist. 

"I need you to touch me." 

"Yes ma'am." You watched her facial expressions as your hand finally dove into her panties, the moisture immediately apparent. Her eyes widened when your pointer finger found the velvety slick and you immediately knew you would do anything in your power to make sure she knew how good another woman could make her feel. Your digit slowly started exploring the rest of the area, soft moans escaping the older woman as you glazed over her clit and entrance. 

"Have you ever been touched like this, Wanda?" You whispered into her ear, making a few nips at her lobe.

"N-no..." She sighed as you began intentionally circling her clit. 

"Nobody to notice what you like... what you want. This wet, pretty pussy wasted on cheap condoms and a quick fuck."

A sinful moan left her body as your lips once again returned to her neck, you quickly learning where her sensitive spots were. "Shit, baby." Her nails were digging into your shoulder blades. 

"Nobody to know how warm and soft you are," You said, shoving a finger into her entrance, groaning as she gasped. "And it's a damn shame, cause you feel so perfect, Ms. Maximoff." You met her eyes when you could see the surprise on her face at your last statement. Your finger started moving slowly in and out, trying to map out every dip and line you could feel. "So perfect." 

You once again reattached your lips to hers, feeling the vibrations from her moans on your tongue. You could stay like this forever, you felt. But Wanda did not. 

"Detka, I need more. Please." Her slight accent slipping through, reaching down to your core. 

You pulled your finger out of her and she whined, fearing her pleading made you step back. Little did she know, but she would be getting exactly what she asked for. 

"I would love to give you more, but these are gonna need to come off." You dragged your soaked finger down her stomach to grab at her panties and she frantically nodded.

"Yeh- yes please. I want to feel all of you." 

You smirked, moving back to finally drag the rest of the fabric down her legs. When you finally brought yourself to look at the painting between her legs though, you could hardly breathe. Her folds were swollen and soaked with her wetness, slightly moving with her body as her chest rose and fell. You felt so divided, debating consuming her immediately or taking your time to work her up. 

You realized while the first option was so tempting, the second would give her the full experience. You slowly reached your fingertips to graze over her thigh, small whimpers coming from the older woman. 

"Oh, Wanda, you are divine." You muttered, now dragging both palms up her waist and down the sides of her ass as you repositioned yourself closer to her core. Eyes dragging up and down her person when you spotted the wetness that you had left on her stomach earlier. You leaned down to clean it all up, finally getting to taste her tanginess on your tongue. You moaned into her skin.

"Detka..." She gasped as you moved your mouth down to her inner thighs and you hands to grip her waist. Her smell was driving you crazy as her taste lingered in your throat. You began to slowly suck at the warm soft terrain, finding it easy to pull the skin between your teeth. A hand was placed on your head, pulling on your hair in a desperate attempt to get you closer to her core. You simply laughed, leaving red spots everywhere in-between her thighs.

Despite your grip on her hips, she still found some movements, directing your attention to the quiet sticky sounds coming from her pussy. You watched in a daze as her small twitches pushed around the slick, begging to be touched again.

You couldn't take it anymore, fully embracing her wetness with a torturous lick up her core. The groan that escaped Wanda was heavenly as she tried to tug you back onto her. You complied, picking up a slow routine of collecting her mess into your mouth. You dug your fingers deeper into her sides, addicted to her pain response. 

"Oh, good girl, baby. That, wow." She said as you began to suckle on her clit, striving for every reaction you could get out of her. "Holy fuck."

You smirked, finally sliding a finger back into her dripping hole and continuing to work on her clit with your mouth. You knew this pace you were making would not be enough, but you wanted the older woman to beg for it. You could tell she already wanted to as your hair only got tugged harder and finger nails started scratching at your arms. 

After only a short time, you decided to amp up the teasing with another finger into her entrance, but you would not change your pace. You took breaks on her clit when you felt she was building up too many knots, paying attention to her audible sighs as if she was taking a cold plunge and making sure her lungs were still working. 

"Darling, please... oh-"

You blew on her clit as you watched how your fingers slid in and out of her, collecting up her slick.

"Baby please make me cum. You feel s-so good but you're destroying me Y/N/N."

"You want me that bad, Ms. Maximoff?" You grinned. 

"Darling, its not a want. It's a need. Now. Please."

"Ok, as long as you look at me as I fuck you clean. I want you to know what good love feels and looks like." You smirked as she pulled a pillow under your head, elated when she gasped at the image before her... your chin soaked, eyes hungry and smile cruel. You kept eye contact with her as you sunk back down to her core, living in the light of her stare. You began to continue the licks and pumps, but she let her eyes roll back, which you hadn't told her to do. 

"Eyes on me, Ms. Maximoff. I'm in charge right now." You couldn't believe those words had just rolled off of your tongue, but clearly she hadn't either as your gazes reconnected. 

"You little sl-" She went speechless as you started a more aggressive pace, ensuring her green glare was on you. Once you had decided she would stay like that, you moved all of your attention to her pussy, finally tying all the knots together in her core. Her moans and whimpers were everything to you, even when you noticed her upper body was becoming too weak. You decided to let her finish, knowing she more than deserved it. 

"Detka, I think I'm gonna cum- I" 

"The stage is yours" You mumbled into her, internally grinning. You pumped a few more times and the next thing you know, Wanda has thrown her head down and arched off the bed. You could feel her cum as you watched the sight before you, the older woman unable to control her high. 

You stared in awe as your fingers worked her off her high, chest heaving and hands rubbing her eyes. You slowly pulled your fingers out of her twitchy hole, making sure her eyes were back on you as you raised your digits to your lips. 

"Wow, babygirl, that was... amazing." She pulled you over for a kiss, adjusting to her taste on your tongue. "Thank you."

You giggled. "You know, Wanda, another nice thing about women is that they have the stamina to make you cum more than once in a night... if you're interested." You smirked.

Her jaw slightly dropped. "More than once?"

╚══《✧》══╝

Thanks for reading!

[cillianhead]

Your Thomas Shelby's younger inexperienced wife and you are both experimenting in the bedroom and he lets you choke him 🥵

Oh absolutely...!

God I can't wait to write this. Thank you for your request! I hope you like it :-)

Show Me How Much You Need Me || Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part One!

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, choking, light spanking i guess??, face slapping, age gap, degrading language, swearing / vulgar language, kinda mild breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, mild overstimulation sort of, oral sex (f receiving), arranged marriage, very very very very vague implications of dubcon sort of but like not really but just be warned! adult content. (sorry if I missed any warnings)

18+ Minors DNI

To your parents, being unmarried at the age of twenty was absolutely unacceptable. So on your birthday, they had men lining up around the block, both old and young alike, hoping to be your husband. Now there were some good candidates, not that you had a choice in who you were going to marry. Your parents were control freaks, deciding they were going to decide for you. But as soon as Thomas Shelby walked into the room, cigarette hanging loosely out of his lips, a trail of smoke following him and a huge wad of cash in hand and then tossing it down in front of my parents, acting like he owned the place... You knew no one else stood a chance.

Now you'd been married for a month, Tommy was an insatiable man. He got what he wanted when he wanted. You remember the look in his eyes on your wedding night when you told him you were a virgin, he nearly came in his trousers at the thought of your tight pussy. You've had sex pretty much twice a day or more ever since, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Tommy showed you how to fuck, how to suck his cock, showed you how to please a man. Of course, the only man you would ever be allowed to please would be Tommy himself. You were hesitant to marry him, you were also slightly afraid of him but as you got to know each other, got to spend more time together as husband and wife, you appreciated his company, and you could even see yourself beginning to love him. But lately the sex between you had started to die down, Tommy being busy dealing with the peaky blinders and all their drama, you'd only have sex every other day or so. Which for you guys, wasn't a lot. But you knew he was tired, it wasn't cause he wasn't attracted to you anymore.

It was pouring rain outside as you both quietly sat in bed, Tommy read his novel quietly, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose while you brushed through your hair, topless and only in some thin white panties for him. There was a visible wet patch from your arousal, you were always wet when you were near Tommy, he just had that affect over you. He thought it was cute how easily excitable you are. You were incredibly needy, now that you'd had a taste of what it was like to have sex, you were constantly asking for it, constantly trying to get his attention. Poor little inexperienced thing you were.

"Tommy," You whined, placing your hairbrush on the bedside table and then leaning over, pressing your face into his neck. "Pay attention to me..."

Tommy let out an amused huff, turning another page of his book, not bothering to even spare one glance at you. "What do y'need, love?" He asked gruffly, reaching his spare arm and wrapping it around you, pulling you into him. He knew exactly what you needed, he just wanted to hear you say it. The way you got embarrassed and shy was incredibly sexy to him.

"Need you..." You whispered, placing kisses along the column of his throat.

"Gotta be more specific than that," He closed his book, finally setting it aside along with his glasses. "What do you need from me?"

"I need... you..." You were flustered, burying your face in his bare chest but he grabbed you by the nape of the neck like you were a kitten and pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him. "I need you to fuck me... Tommy..."

"Is that so?" He chuckled, running a thumb over your bottom lip which you innocently popped into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. You weren't doing intentionally to turn him on, you just liked the way it felt to suck on something, especially if that something was Tommy's thumb. But the sight was suggestive, Tommy wished it was his cock in your mouth instead. "Fuckin' hell, alright, sit in me lap, I'll give you what ye need."

You continued sucking on his thumb, keeping eye contact with him as he pulled down his sleep shorts and pulled down your underwear. "Go on then, take what ya came here for." Tommy pulled his wet thumb away, shoving it between your folds and rubbing your clit, making you weak in the knees. He had so much power over you. So you grabbed onto his shoulders before holding the head of his dick before lining up with the leaky tip and sinking down on him. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as you squeezed around him. "Easy, girl." He warned, his cock twitching inside you, he could cum from just how tight you were. God he fucking loved that his cock was the only one you'd ever taken, loved the way you stretched around him.

"Fuck... so deep..." You sat on him for just a moment, adjusting to the feeling. Even though you'd taken him plenty of times, your cunt just hadn't gotten use to the sheer size and girth of him. It made you feel like you were being torn open in the most beautiful way possible. "T-Tommy..."

"Ride me, slut, go on... show me how much you need me." He slapped your ass harshly before grabbing a handful of it and encouraging your hips to start grinding against him. "Such a pretty girl."

You moved your hips back and forth, a bit shy at first as you did so but as more and more pleasure began to build in your stomach, your dignity went out the window as you began desperately bouncing on his cock. Tommy had never seen you so hungry for it before, he just leaned back against the bed, his hands gripping your waist as you took what you wanted.

Your tits bounced right in front of his face and Tommy thought to himself this was the greatest view in the world. His pretty little wife fucking herself and her perfect tits moving in sync with her movements. He let out gravelly groans as you sunk back down on him, sweaty, you froze for a moment to catch your breath. This was still all so new to you, still such an innocent little thing. You still need Tommy's help to get off sometimes, not quite strong enough yet to ride him all on your own.

"Tommy..." You whispered with a small whine. "Need your help..." Your flushed cheeks and blown out pupils were a sign of how lost in the moment you were. He just smiled as he pushed you down onto your back and threw your legs over his shoulders. His cock pressing even deeper into your pussy, somehow. You could feel him in your stomach.

"This what you want, little girl?" He hummed as he started to fuck in and out of you, impaling you on his dick. "Want me to fuck you like the slut you are?"

You moaned, nodding dumbly as your mind went blank. "Yes! Tommy! Fuck me!" You were incredibly loud and you were lucky no one else was in the house because otherwise they'd hear how loud you were being, when usually you were quite reserved around other people. "Pl-Please put a baby in me Tommy... let me make you a daddy..."

"Fuck..." Tommy could cum at your words, "Yeah?" He panted continuing to piston in and out of you, one of his hands grabbed roughly at your tits, playing with your hard nipple. "Gonna breed you like the bitch that you are." You moaned at his words, arching your back further into him as he gave you another harsh spank to your asscheeks.

"Tommy... gonna cum... please... don't stop!" You sounded like a pornstar, Tommy leaned down and kissed you.

"My pretty little wife," His voice was vibrating through you, the gravel of it making you even wetter. The sound of his cock slipping in and out of your sopping little cunt echoed throughout the room as he leaned down even further and connected his lips to yours once again. He felt your fingers curl around his neck, both hands wrapped around his throat, Tommy was never one to get flustered but the idea of you choking him made his hips stutter as you squeezed around him a bit. "Fuck..." He moaned lowly as you held onto his neck. You looked so sweet in that moment. "Such a stupid little girl, when you're full of cock, don't even know what ye doin, eh?" He fucked into you more, feeling you squeeze around him. Your hands held onto his throat as if you were holding him on a leash.

You were a writhing mess, shaking underneath him, only choking him further. You looked at how pretty he looked with your hands wrapped around his throat and how flushed his face was, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his hips bruised your pelvis. "Daddy...!" You moaned out, experimentally, waiting to see his reaction. You had always fantasized about calling him it but you were always too nervous to do so. But right now you were drunk on the pleasure, too fucked out to care.

"Fuck... say that again... gonna fuckin' fill you up, love." Tommy was just as desperate as you now, chasing his own high as you started to convulse around him, your orgasm unraveling, he lightly slapped you across the face, hard enough to break you out of your daze but not enough to actually do any damage. "Fuckin' do what I say!" You clenched tighter around him, cumming even harder at the sound of him yelling at you. Him being angry at you shouldn't be so hot but it was.

"Sorry... s-sorry... daddy!" You sobbed out as you gushed around his cock that began leaking cum. "Please... cum in me, please daddy..."

"That's right, baby..." He was rutting into you now, hips moving into you hard yet slow. "I'm yer daddy." He let out a deep mewl as he came inside you, making you moan even louder, your voice hoarse and your throat sore as you let go of his throat, collapsing your arms back. Tommy fucked his cum deep into you despite the sensitivity of his cock. Slowly pulling out of you, he pushed your legs against your chest to look down at the slick between your legs. A little bit of cum dripped out of your stretched out hole, earning you two fingers pushing it back into you, you just whimpered, a bit overstimulated.

"Think I gotta get a taste of your pussy now, love," He hummed getting down on his tummy, face aligned perfectly as he moved his fingers in a 'come hither' movement. You gasped, he was hitting your g-spot each time.

"Fuck, tommy!"

"Eh, that's not me name right now." He looked at you warningly before unhinging his jaw and attaching his hot mouth to your sensitive clit again.

"Oh daddy! 'S too much, too much... please..." You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop or to keep going, it was all too much for your brain to comprehend. You were seeing hot flashes of white, your body going completely limp as another orgasm washed over you, rendering you helpless to the pleasure that was consuming you from the inside out. "D-Daddy..." You dumbly moaned.

"Tastes so fuckin good, keep cummin' on my face." His nose brushed your clit as he licked up your juices and you came again and again and again. Extremely overstimulated. "Just gimme one more, baby then I'll leave you alone." You were unresponsive, nodding your head weakly, wanting to be good for him. "Such a good girl for daddy, aren't ya?" He made out with your gushing sex, adding a third finger.

And suddenly you felt it burst out of you, drenching his hair, face, and the sheets underneath you. Squirting all over his face and just as you thought it was over, it just kept on coming. Your mouth agape in a silent scream of pleasure, he drank it all up, continuing to slurp at your pussy until it finally ended. He pulled away, leaning back on his ankles, Tommy had a very pleased look on his face, your squirt dripping down his chin and his chest sticky with your cum and the sheets soaking wet. "That was the best bloody thing to ever happen to me." He huffed, licking his wet fingers. You laid there, tears streaming down your face and twitching gently, still coming down. He laid down beside you. "You did so good f'me, so good, you're alright, I'm here."

He held you as you continued to shake, waiting for you to calm down a bit. "I've never done that before..." You whimpered, pussy throbbing, full of cum, and sopping wet.

He gave you a loud genuine laugh, still sticky with your juices as he kissed you. "I'm gonna make you squirt over and over and over again every time we fuck now, just so you know."

You giggled at his words, he was gonna be the death of you.

-

I know there wasn't a whole lot of 'experimenting' or choking so i'm sorry! But I hope you enjoyed anyway!!

[chaotic-toasters]

Crashing

AUSWNT x Teen!Reader

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

"Hi, Macca!" You grinned, rushing into the Keeper's waiting arms. "I missed you!"

"I've missed you too, kid," she smiled, squeezing you tightly. "How's Spain treatin' you?"

"Good."

"What about me?" Alanna questioned. "I haven't seen you in a while too, y'know."

"Oh, hi Lani," you patted the defender on the shoulder. "Didn't see you there."

"You're so mean," the cityzen feigned hurt, all too familiar with your playful antics. "Kyra said to go and meet her and Charli in her room. They need you for something. Probably a prank."

"Alright," you gave her and Mac fist-bumps as you walked past. "If I turn up dead tomorrow, you know what happened."

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

"Hey, Ky, hey Char," you greeted, eyebrows raised as you followed Kyra into the room. "What was it you needed?"

"Y/N, perfect," Charli was suspiciously gleeful. "We've got some Tim Tams that we need eaten, but Ky and I have already had too many. You mind finishing them for us?"

"Sure," you agreed instantly, never one to deny a Tim Tam (even if it was way too early in the morning. "I'm down."

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

In short, you consumed three whole packets of Tim Tams. Kyra and Charli had shared a look, the former getting up and grabbing a coffee from otherwise empty desk. "You look kinda tired. Have some coffee, it'll help you get through the jetlag for now."

You hadn't thought much of it, so you'd graciously accepted it and finished it within the hour.

"Y/N! Kyra! Charli!" Lydia's voice called through the door, followed by a couple of knocks. "We've gotta head to training! Get ready to go!"

You rolled your eyes, much to Kyra and Charli's amusement. "Yes, mum!"

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

"MINIMINIMINIMINIMINIMINI!" you practically yelled, barreling towards the surprised Midfielder excitedly. "LOOKLOOKLOOKLOOK!"

"Woah, kiddo," she sidestepped, glancing over at Alanna. "You're a lot stronger than I am. Careful."

Alanna was quick to pull you into a hug in a fruitless attempt to calm you down. "What's goin' on, Y/N? You okay?"

You were shaking, bouncing up and down rapidly in the defender's arms. "What d'you mean? I'm great!"

You bolted away, somersaulting across the pitch before slamming your foot into a ball that had been laying on the ground. "WHEEEE!"

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," Tony ran over with Steph in tow. "What's happened, kiddo? You just excited?"

"Yeah yeah yeah!" you did a random backflip for no reason other than you feeling like it. "I'm excited! Yup yup yup!"

Ellie looked severely ashamed for what she was about to whisper to Hayley. "Is she... is she high?"

"No, there's no way," the Madrid player shook her head instantly. "She cares about her career way too much to jeopardize it with something like drugs."

"Yeah, you're right. But if she's not high, then what?"

Across the pitch, Lydia and Mackenzie's eyes swept over each and every player like hawks.

Instead of being worried that a new, younger keeper would take their places when you joined the national team, they immediately took you under their wings and declared themselves as your team moms. It wasn't a secret that they'd kill anybody who messed with you.

"Mac," Lydia elbowed the West Ham captain. "Over there."

Mac's eyes zeroed in on two best friends, seemingly worried as they whispered in each other's ears. "Oi! Cooney! Grant! You got somethin' to share with the team?"

Both of their heads snapped up, fear written clearly all over their faces.

Two tall, angry Australian goalkeepers was a terrifying sight for anybody, but up until now, none of the Tillies had been on the receiving end of your team moms' wrath. Safe to say, no one was prepared.

"You give my kid something?" Macca demanded, rolling up her sleeves. "Why's she actin' weird?"

Charli gulped. "We— we, uh..."

"Spit it out," Mackenzie growled, ignoring the fact that you were currently clinging onto her leg like a koala. "What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Kid?"

"We gave her a bunch of Tim Tams," Kyra blurted out, caving as soon as Lydia dragged her thumb across her throat menacingly. "And... and... Charli gave her a coffee with, like, eight packets of sugar in it!"

"Me?!" Charli cried. "You literally handed it to her! And it was your idea! I only agreed!"

"Oh, you two are so dead," Mac glared, lumbering forward with much difficulty considering there was a 140-pound human attached to her right leg. "I swear to God, I'm gonna murder you both."

Lydia did it for her, seizing both troublemakers by the fronts of their shirts. "You think this is funny? Y/N can be fuckin' dangerous when she's hyper! She coulda run over Mini!"

Kyra looked past Lydia's shoulder to where you were snuggling into Macca's knee and babbling about racecars. "Uh—"

A smack to the back of the head shut her up real fast.

"Not now, Ky!" Charli hissed through gritted teeth.

"Tony!" Kyra pleaded as Lydia's grip on her training bib became tighter. "Tony, please!"

The manager held up his hands, walking backwards and almost tripping on the drinks cooler. "Nope. Not getting involved."

"Steph—"

The skipper looked around wildly. "I... I have to go plan your funeral! In the bathroom! Bye!"

"Ras, please—"

The Madrid player was gone before the gunner could even finish her sentence.

Lydia's eye twitched.

"Uh-oh."

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

"Y/N, babes, you good?" Ellie asked, nudging you slightly.

You blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"I'm gonna go get Mac, I'll be right back."

True to her word, the Lyon defender returned a minute later with the ever-protective older keeper at her side.

"Y/N's kind of out of it," Ellie explained as your head bobbed slightly. "I think she's crashing from the sugar."

"Aww, kiddo," Mackenzie sat beside you on the bench, using a hand to place your head on her shoulder. "It's only three, you tired?"

"Mhmm," you murmured, only half-paying attention. "Sleepy."

She sent a cowering Kyra and Charli a death glare. "Go to sleep, kid. I'm sure Tony wouldn't mind. Right, Tony?"

The manager instantly agreed, giving you both an awkward and slightly terrified thumbs-up. "I— yup. Whatever you want, girls. It's- it's totally up to you."

Lydia walked over, brushing a flyaway out of your face. "I'll bring you up to your room when we're done here. Get some rest, kid."

[gunnrblze]

The sibling dynamic between Hesh and Logan has rotted the innards of my brain. Long ramble of me reading into this too much and probably making it personal below the cut, lol.

They’re extremely close, grow up practically codependent, at least from a certain point onward. Hesh brothers Logan in an almost fatherly way sometimes because their actual father places this responsibility on him (albeit largely unintentionally I imagine), for the literal sole fact that he’s two (2) years older than Logan. That’s it, just two. He got parentified like a lot of older siblings tend to be, purely due to circumstance of being the eldest. If Logan was older this dynamic would most likely have been the same thing. Hesh was pushed into this protector role regardless of how he feels about it.

And I wonder how it would’ve panned out had Elias tried to foster a more ‘behave as a unit’ approach rather than ‘Hesh protect Logan regardless’ type thing. Logan followed in Hesh’s footsteps (QUITE LITERALLY!) and strived to be just like him. During all their training, they “became men” together and learned how to communicate non verbally to the point where they’re near fucking telepathic.

Yes they fight together, yes Logan was there for Hesh always, “Logan has my back and I have his, we’re brothers” yes yes yes. But Hesh was damn near playing caretaker for him sometimes. From the beginning of the game we see Elias telling Hesh to look out for Logan constantly, and he continues to throughout the entire game. And at the end when Rorke drags Logan away you can hear the pain and the panic in Hesh’s voice (duh). Can see him trying to reach for him and crawl to him. From the beginning to the end, Hesh is Logan’s big brother in every sense of the word. From childhood to the moment Logan is drug off the beach, Hesh is right there with him like a guardian angel. Or more like a guard dog maybe lol. And I just wonder what difference it would’ve made if Elias didn’t force Hesh (whether he meant to or not doesn’t even matter) to shoulder the burden of not only growing up himself, but guiding Logan so heavily at the same time.

And what gets me the most about this is that Logan is just as experienced as Hesh, minus those two years that Hesh joined the army before Logan turned 18. They trained together, Rorke implied that Elias trained them a lot himself, and Logan is just as capable. Just as intelligent, prepared, skilled, etc. Yet in some parts of the game, it almost seems like his ‘baby of the family’ role follows him, despite being a skilled spec ops soldier fighting an active war, and it’s just so interesting to me. I just know this has gotta be a deep seated thing for Hesh, to have been his brothers guardian in a sense, despite only having two years on him. He was just as young and confused, just as in need of guidance, and yes Elias provided a lot of that for the both of them, but Hesh kinda had to wing it a lot I think. He didn’t have an older sibling to look up to because he IS the older sibling being looked up to.

And on the flip side, how is Logan meant to interpret that growing up, in any other way besides ‘Hesh knows more, does more, is better than me, knows better than me, etc’ type of thing? You’re being looked after by an older sibling half the time, of course you’re gonna idolize them more than a sibling might do so even in a regular/healthy circumstance. Like yea that’s his big brother and he’s gonna look up to him regardless, but you’re only two years younger being silently treated like you’re in need of this caretaking….c’mon. Elias created a dynamic in which the two of them are so codependent, that it had to have hurt Hesh on an even deeper level to lose Logan than it already would’ve. That would already be soul shattering in the first place, especially with the dogshit ass circumstances they were in, but to lose the little brother that you most definitely feel personally responsible for…? This is why I think Hesh would genuinely be tweaking the fuck out post beach.

And to add onto this ramble about Merrick becoming like a mentor to Hesh, I can see Hesh getting some actual older male guidance without the addendum of ‘also here’s this other guy you need to look out for’ being healing in a way. Dare I say Keegan/Kick would even become like an older brother figure to Hesh and kinda fill that hole, the older brother he didn’t get.

Anyways idk I’m insane about them always. You unintentionally made your sons codependent on one another, and then you die, and then one son is taken, blah blah we know what happened. I mean damn lol.

[mayzi33]

So. Sonic Dream Team. I just watched the cutscenes and I have SO MUCH to talk about. Let's just dive right into it no intros

First of all, this little moment.

Cream runs off to fight a boss, and the others can't follow her. Of course, Amy immediatly gets worried, but Sonic calms her down saying that Cream can do this, and that "she's growing up on us fast".

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Of course Sonic is gonna tell Amy something like that, because he knows what it's like first hand with Tails. He knows what it's like to be worried about your younger friend, but you still gotta believe in them and let them fight their own battles. I love this so much.

Now, I'm not sure if Dream Team a part of the Sonic mainline or not, but if is, I want to think it takes place wayyyy after Frontiers, after Tails, Knuckles and Amy came back from their solo journeys perhaps? I don't know how to explain, maybe it's just Ian Flynn doing his magic again, but the characters just feel so much more mature but still the same they've always been you know? Just- better. Whatever the case, let me be delusional and have the reassurance that Team Sonic will reunite after their solo journeys okay thank you very much.

Now, let's talk about Knuckles.

Something I noticed in the cutscenes, is that Knuckles doesn't mention the Master Emerald, or about coming back to his island at all. He doesn't complain about being "dragged into this" and having more "important stuff to do". I'd like to think that this time, whatever happened to get this group reunited and look for Cream, Knuckles didn't tag along on accident or because he was forced to somehow. He tagged along because he genuely wanted to help look for Cream and save the world from Eggman again. That he genuely wanted to go on this adventure with this friends. And I love how he says "Now we can help protect Ariem too. That's what guardians are for, right?" Again, he doesn't mention the Master Emerald, Knuckles just said himself that as a guardian, his duty can be to protect anyone, not just the big shiny rock. That alone, shows Knuckles' growth a lot to me. He's protective over the E.M, but that's not all his character is about. He's protective over other people. He's protective over his friends. He's protective period. Because that's a part of his personality, of how Knuckles is. He's actually a person, not a machine that cares about nothing other than his duty.

And then, this little moment.

Again, he doesn't mention the E.M or his duty, but you don't have to be a genius to know that that's what he's thinking about. He understands Ariem more than anyone in the room. He admires her for taking her duty so seriously.

That's another reason why I want to think this takes place after Frontiers. Knuckles still thinks about his duty and takes it seriously, but still cares about other things, like protecting others and helping his friends in adventures, unlike other Sonic contents where he's just stuck on his island all the time. (Cough cough IDW cough cough)

Now, a little on Tails.

I love this little moment. Sonic checking up on his little bro, asking if he's okay, which he immediatly responds to "you know me!" As if, "Yeah, you know I can take it." Like Amy and Cream, Sonic still worries and cares about Tails, but also believes in him.

And then this little moment, if you choose to go with Tails instead of Cream to the boss fight.

Eggman uses his usual taunting, and Tails' confident and challenging response made me be on the edge of my seat. Another reason why I want to believe this takes place after Frontiers, is just that Tails sounds way more confident on himself.

And as he says, "Don't underestimate me, Eggman!"

Eggman himself responds with, "Oh, I won't."

He could've easily gone for another taunting, but then he simply decides not to and admits he won't be stupid to underestimate Tails, and tells his machines to go on full power or whatever. Reminds me of a moment when Eggman complimeted Tails in Frontiers Final Horizon saying "You're turning out quite formidable, Tails." I mean like?? You know you're crushing it when the villain himself admits it.

And I love how through the game, the gang keeps turning to Tails for answers. I didn't even screenshot it because there are just SO many moments where the gang goes: "Tails! Is there anything you can do?" "Tails, you're super smart, is there something you can do?" "Tails, what do we do?"

Which Tails also has a response to. Even if he doesn't know for sure, he always comes up with a plan for them to proceed, which the gang follows with no question. "Buy Tails some time!"

And obviously, I won't even get started on how they gave Cream so much importance. I feel like everyone pointed it out already, so I wanted to make this post mainly to point out things I noticed about our classic gang, Amy, Knuckles and Tails.

Hope yall enjoyed this rambling.

[eddiexmunsonlover-archive]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 14)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!GF!Reader

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Chapter Summary: With Spring Break comes college visits and free time to spend with your friends and boyfriend. Giving the party the carefree spring break they deserve <3 WC: 6.4k Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY. S4 rewrite. Filthy smut. Squirting. Fingering (fem receiving). Unprotected piv. Creampie. Explicit language. Lots of pet names used. Fluff and comfort. Hints of the uncertainty of the future, but mostly just fun times with the group and Eddie. Series taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @littlexdeaths Shout out to @londonfog-chan for giving me some brilliant Dustin ideas! So sorry this chapter took longer than usual to get out, but I hope y'all enjoy!

Friday, March 21st, 1986

In between your afternoon classes, you diverge from the hallways to the outside courtyards for a cigarette. Greeted by the sight of two of your younger friends sitting by the payphone. Reading their demeanor and tone of voice, it’s easy to tell they’ve gotten nowhere on the mission Eddie gave them.

“No luck?” you ask, coming to stand beside them.

“No” Dustin sighs, hanging his head.

“It’s hopeless. I mean, why can’t they just reschedule the ball game?!” Mike whines, hands thrown out in frustration. You scoff out a laugh with a shake of your head.

“Oh, come on. Far more people, including the school board, are involved in the scheduling and financing of our school sports. You think they’re going to reschedule for our little DnD club?”

Mike knows you’re right, but he can’t shake it off.

“Well then why can’t Lucas just skip? He’s been sitting on the bench this whole season anyway! I mean, he’s putting that stupid game before us!”

You take a seat on the bench next to them with a sigh, drawing another drag from your cigarette.

“Lucas… is on his own path right now. He’s doing what he thinks is right for him. Whether we agree with it or not, he’s gotta figure it out for himself.”

They take your words in silence, struggling with the helpless feeling of the reality of it all.

“Still, we’ve had no luck finding a sub. We’ve tried every clique and club. I tried asking Max.”

“I even tried asking Nancy!”

“Nancy? I respect the effort, but you didn’t actually think she’d do it?”

“No, but I had to try!”

You and the boys sit in silence, as they hang their heads, your eyes roam around your surroundings. Students mulling about between classes. 

“You know, I think you’ll find the perfect sub if you look just a tad bit farther.”

You give them a smirk when they turn to you, a soft nod of your head in the direction of Hawkins Middle School only a yard away.

Their eyes follow the direction before turning to each other.

“Holy shit, you’re a genius!” Dustin exhales, jumping from his seat and wasting no time in beginning the short run across the parking lot with Mike in tow. 

“You can thank me later” you mutter with a smile, taking the last drag of your cigarette.

“This is Hellfire club, not babysitting club.”

“I’m 11, you long-haired freak”

“My, my. The child speaks. So, what’s your name, child?” Eddie pushes, rising from his throne to approach her. 

“Erica Sinclair” she declares unwaveringly.

“So this is Sinclair’s infamous sister.” Eddie remarks in amusement.

“He’s sharp.”

You watch with your arms crossed, enjoying the back and forth. Looking at Erica in admiration and pride, always so confident in herself. When Eddie gives a look to quiet the older members  laughter, your expression doesn’t waver, biting your bottom lip to stifle your grin as you watch how it all unfolds.

“What’s your class and level? Level one dwarf?”

“My name is Lady Applejack. And I’m a chaotic-good half-elf rogue level 14 and I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri and I’ll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So, we gonna do this, or are we gonna keep chit-chatting like this is your mommy’s book club?”

Eddie slowly backs away from her in surprise, though keeping a stone straight face. You have to keep yourself from breaking out into applause right before his head slowly tilts your way, surveying you with narrowed eyes.

“Let me guess. You babysat this one too, hmm?”

“She already had the fire in her, just helped teach her how to wield it. That’s all.” You offer with a nonchalant shrug, grin becoming harder to bite back.

You watch the smirk slowly spread across his lips before he turns it toward Erica, finally extending his hand to her in truce.

“Welcome to Hellfire”

As you expected, Erica turns out to be a great sub, securing Vecna’s defeat in an electric campaign. You’re all smiles, hooping and hollering as you meander down the halls, trailing behind the rest of the club with Eddie. Your cheers soon blend in with that of the other student’s departing from the basketball game as you enter the parking lot. A win for the Hawkins Tigers as well, you can only assume.

You spot the basketball team rallied around each other across the parking lot, catching onto one particular face as he looks among your club with an expression you clock right away.

“Hey, give me a minute. I’ll catch up, alright?” You quickly tell your boyfriend when Lucas’s eyes land on you.

“Alright, hurry up.” Eddie offers you a sweet smile and a peck on your lips before joining the rest of the club.

You gesture your head toward a vehicle close by, blocking the view from the rest of the team.

Lucas manages to slip away without any of them seeing you.

“I take it you guys won?” you ask excitedly, trying to pull a smile out of his down wrought expression.

“Yeah, finally got pulled from the bench. I made the winning shot.” He answers with a half smile.

“Lucas! That’s great, man. Congratulations!” Your enthusiasm and smile is genuine, pulling a bashful one from him before his eyes waver toward the club, his little sister among them.

“I take it you guys won too.” he remarks, smile faltering. You don’t need to turn around to see where he’s looking.

“Hey. I’m sorry none of us were able to be there to watch you. I wish I’d of seen it, I really do. But you know how Eddie is, it’d take an earthquake for him to cancel Hellfire. Shit, he’d probably still have it even then.”

“Yeah, I get it.” His eyes fall to look down at his shoes, sadness seeping into his voice.

“Lucas. I understand what you’re doing, why you’re doing it. I do. Even if it means associating yourself with the people that bully us.” Your gaze flickers over to the group of jocks as his head hangs. You pull his attention to look back at you with a gentle squeeze of his arm. 

“Hey. We care about you, and we’re always gonna be your friends. You’ve gotta do what you think is right for you. Just… don’t forget who you are in the process, alright?” You plead to him with your eyes, hoping he understands you.

“Yeah, alright.” Lucas nods, offering a weak smile of acknowledgement.

“Now go on, go celebrate with your team. And please, make smart decisions.”

“Alright. Thanks, Y/N.” You pull a real laugh from him, watching as he waves bye before going to rejoin his team who welcome him back with cheers and open arms.

You let yourself observe for a few seconds before you go searching for your own group. Soon finding your boyfriend waiting at the van.

“Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a whole van load of people to drop off.” He remarks with an unamused expression.

You climb in, laughing as you see all 6 of the other members piled into the back.

“How the hell did I get roped into this again?” He questions you after climbing into the driver's seat with keys in hand, the excited chatter of the club quickly overtaking the confined metal box on wheels.

“Oh I don’t know, because you’re an oh-so generous Dungeon Master and friend?” you sweet talk him with a flutter of your eyelashes and a squeeze of his jean-clad thigh. His eyes follow your hand before looking back up to you with a raised brow.

“Let’s uh, get them home as quick as possible, yeah?” He determines with a quick glance to the back of the van, hastily inserting the keys and starting the ignition. Your giggles join the sound of the squealing tires and club members' mingling as he burns rubber leaving the parking lot.

Eddie was already planning to spend all night with you in his bedroom ahead of your plans to depart with your mom in the morning for a weekend college visit. His plans are now only solidified by your teasing nature that you take far too much pleasure in.

The club members are left at the end of their driveways with a parting cloud of dust.

Barely an hour after departing Hawkins High, Eddie has you stripped and spread open in his bed.

His bare chest is pressed against your side as his tongue swirls with yours and his hand slides between your legs, fingers teasing your clit. Switching the amount of pressure his fingers apply on your sensitive bud, from calloused pads barely ghosting over your clit to applying full pressure, just to tease you. Getting you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, chuckling in the way your body chases the pleasure, pushing your pussy against his hands for the friction.

“Eddieeeeee, stop being mean”

“I’m not being mean, sweetheart. Just love the way you whine for me when I tease you.”

He gives in to you, no longer teasing as his finger circles your clit just the way you like it. Making you purr for him, moaning into his mouth. One of your hands is lost in his hair as the other grips his bicep. Your leg hoisted over his, keeping you spread open to his liking, full access to play with you as he pleases.

He groans as his fingers dip down to slide into your soaking wet pussy, thumb taking the place to rub circles into your clit.

“Can’t believe you’re gonna deprive me of this sweet pussy for two days… now that’s mean” He mumbles against your lips.

You can only respond in the form of pathetic whimpers, he turns you into mush and he knows it, loves it, craves it. You deepen the kiss as your walls flutter around his thick fingers slowly sliding in and out of you. His fingers slide over a particularly sensitive spot, pulling a high-pitched moan from your lips, your pussy tightening around his fingers.

“Mmm, is that your spot, baby?” His fingers rub over it again, pulling another moan from you. “That feel good?” he practically moans, watching your face twist up in pleasure from his touch.

Your head nods fervently, your grip on his arm tightening.

“Fuck, yes. Right there, baby.” you manage to get out through gasps, letting your head fall back as the pleasure courses through your body, a pressure building in your core.

Eddie quickens the speed of his fingers thrusting in and out, pushing up against the spongy spot at the top of your walls. A trail of wet, open mouth kisses are dotted all over your neck and chest as your breaths quicken with the unrelenting pace and pressure of his fingers.

“Fuck Eddie, feel like I’ve gotta pee” you whine out, feeling the build up of pressure in your core like it’s about to burst.

“S’okay, baby. Don’t hold back, just let go. I’ve got you.” he pants against your ear.

Every muscle in your body begins to tighten, your thighs shaking as you reach your breaking point. With your eyes squeezed shut, all you can hear over your moans and panting is a gushing wet sound mixing with the thrusts of Eddie’s fingers.

“Holy shit” the muffled sound of his voice breaks through the ringing in your ears as you ride out your high. “Fuck, you just squirted for me. So fucking hot.”

His mouth is back on yours in a heated kiss. When your lips part, you look down to see the evidence of your newly found ‘skill’. A wet spot on his sheets right between your legs.

“Shit, Eds. I’m sorry”

“Sorry? For what?” He asks incredulously.

“For staining your sheets” You say with a light laugh, nodding your head to the big wet spot below you. His eyes follow yours to the stain before looking back to you with a big grin,

“What do you say we make some more, huh?” A soft kiss, sucking your bottom lip between his. “Think you can do that again for me, baby?”

He doesn’t need an answer before he’s moving from your side to between your legs, hovering over you.

“I didn’t even know I could do it in the first place.” A heavy sigh parts from your lips with a laugh, finally catching your breath before your boyfriend sets on stealing it away from you again.

He kisses you for a few moments, letting his stiff cock rub against your pussy, covered in your slick and juices, amping him up even more. His hard, thick cock sliding inside you with no resistance, making his eyes roll back at the feeling. The feeling of your perfect pussy, and how wet it gets just for him.

His hands hook under the back of your knees, holding them back as far as he can. The force lifting your ass off the damp sheets beneath you. The position helps his cock get closer to lining up against your sensitive spot. He doesn’t waste time taking it slow, he knows he doesn’t need to.

Your pussy already soaking for him, he starts his thrusts hard and deep. Watching your puffy lips wrap around him, sucking him in. The squeals of pleasure falling from your lips each time his hips connect with yours.

The feeling of him inside you, the way his cock stretches you no matter how wet you are is enough to drive you crazy, turn you into a moaning mess beneath him. The position does help for his cock to just barely nudge against your g-spot with each thrust, but it’s not enough and he knows it.

In a second he’s snatching a pillow and moving your ankles to his shoulders.

“Lift your ass up for me”

You use his shoulders for leverage as he shoves the pillow under your ass before his hands are holding your legs back again. Leaning down to give you soft, sweet kisses while his cock is stuffing you so deep his tip nudges against your cervix. Before you can grasp onto him he’s leaning back again, picking up where he left off.

The added pillow was the perfect touch, making your toes curl with each thrust of his cock that rubs against your spot just right. You grip onto the only thing you can, the sheets underneath you while he aligns the direction of his thrusts with your moans, finding the perfect angle and rhythm to send you unraveling beneath him in mere minutes. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby” he moans, feeling you tighten around him with each bump of his cock against your spongy spot. The familiar sensation, pressure in your core begins to build again.

One hand leaves the back of your knee to gently push down on your mound, adding to the pressure building in your core, making sure his cock hits your g-spot with each thrust, his thumb reaching down to rub your swollen clit. 

“Fuuuck, Eddie! Oh my god!” You nearly scream out, the pleasure taking over your body is overwhelming, it’s intense, and feels so fucking good. 

You can feel tears falling out of the corner of your eyes and landing on the sheets below you, the squeaking and scraping of the bed frame against the floor.

“That’s it, baby. Give me what I want. Squirt all over my cock for me” He sputters through moans and pants, taking everything in him to hold back his own orgasm till he gives you your second.

He knows just what you need, just what to say, that final push to send you plummeting over the edge. You yell out as you fall into your second orgasm of the night, taking over all your senses. Your free leg tightening around his back, your walls tightening around his cock, everything in your body tightens as your orgasm rocks through you. It’s the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life. 

As soon as Eddie feels your wetness gushing around his cock, he immediately falters. Holding himself deep inside you as he groans out while his cum fills you up. A sensation you’ve quickly grown to love and crave from him.

His body relaxes onto yours, your hands embracing each other.

“Jesus Christ, Eds!” You groan out between attempts to catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart” He mutters against your ear, making you involuntarily clench around his sensitive cock. He lets out a soft hiss, pulling himself out from inside you with a chuckle. “I wonder how many more times I can make you do that…”

“Oh my god, you’re trying to kill me” you whine out before joining in with his laughter.

“Just like making you feel good, making you cum for me.” His lips trail up your jawline. “I’ll let you rest for the night, but I won’t be satisfied until this bed is covered in your stains.”

“You’re a very depraved man” you chuckle, playfully slapping his arm before his lips meet yours again.

Staying tangled in his embrace for the remainder of the night, through your slumber and until the morning comes.

With a parting kiss… or two, lingering hands on your sides that don’t leave until you move from his grasp, you depart from Eddie in the early hours of Saturday morning. He watches from the porch like a sad puppy as you walk to your trailer and depart with your mother in her station wagon for a weekend trip to visit Ohio State University.

A subtle seed of doubt is planted in that moment.

The drive to Columbus, Ohio is far from the worst, only a fraction of the drive to Virginia. You occupy your thoughts and attention to the unfamiliar route, passing towns, cities and landmarks you’ve never seen, small talk with your mother, and singing along to the songs on the radio carrying you along on your journey.

Your visit at the college isn’t bad either, by all accounts it goes rather well. A vast campus with classic architecture in a big, new city. You’re impressed by the academics, the sense of community, and the countless opportunities offered in the state’s capital. It’s clear the university holds promise for you and your future, but as you roam the campus you can’t rid yourself of the emptiness that comes with the prospect of attending there. 

4 hours away from your home, from your friends, from Eddie. 4 hours of distance is nothing compared to the 11 that previously separated you, it’s true. Still, the idea of parting ways again so soon after finally getting to the point in your relationship with Eddie that all these years have been building to, years of yearning and heartbreak… it’s not an idea you’re ready to accept.

You feel every minute of the 4 hour drive back to Hawkins. Every minute of distance that would be between you and your life at home as you know it. It doesn’t warm you up to the idea anymore than when you were at the campus. 

Neither does the sight of your loving boyfriend and best friend, waiting on his porch with a cigarette for your arrival.

Wrapping your body in his strong, warm arms and your lips with his, softly rocking you side to side in the embrace.

“Miss me?” you tease, looking up into his chocolate eyes.

“Every second you were gone, baby.” He mutters in a husky tone, meeting your lips again for a long, sweet kiss. Whisking you away into Wayne’s trailer, intent on not letting you step foot outside it again for the remainder of the day.

Having the whole week off for Spring Break opens up an abundance of free time, and you don’t know any better way to spend it than with your boyfriend and group of friends. On your days off from work, you’re free to get lost in any adventure imaginable, no matter if it was spending your Monday at Dustin’s with your friends playing his Atari all day, going to the movies and shopping with Steve and Robin on Wednesday, or a day at the lake on Friday. It’s a small taste of what’s to come for summer, freed from the confines of school. The last truly ‘free’ summer you’ll have before adulthood and all that comes with it.

Friday, March 28th, 1986

What was meant to be a fun, relaxing afternoon with your friends at Lover’s Lake is off to a rocky start. Rather than take the road you and Eddie had taken before that leads right to the waterfront, Steve listened to Dustin’s insistence on parking at the entrance that many hunters in the area used, a mile of trails between your cars and the lake.

No big deal, nothing wrong with a little hike. That is until the two leading the group, Dustin and Steve, begin bickering over the location of Skull Rock.

“Dude, I’m telling you you’re taking us the wrong way.”

“It’s north, I’m positive!” Dustin asserts, flashing Steve his compass.

“You do realize Skull Rock is like a super popular makeout spot.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular. I practically invented it, you’re going in the wrong direction.”

“Yeah Dusty, don’t you know Steve is the ladies man of Hawkins? You think he wouldn’t know where Skull Rock is?” You tease, Eddie and you trailing behind them.

“Yeah, and he’s right. You’re definitely going in the wrong direction.” Eddie asserts, earning a 

“Thank you!” from Steve.

You spare a side-ways glance to Eddie with a cocked brow.

“And what would you know about the most popular make-out spot in town?” You question.

“I’ve been there for the occasional deal, that’s all” He declares with his arms raised. “I promise, lovebug.” He finishes, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Ugh, no. Not that one.” You laugh despite your face scrunching up.

“You know, no matter how much you say you don’t like one, it still puts a blush on those cute, chubby cheeks.” He asserts while leaning closer to your ear, his hand reaching up to pinch your round cheeks. You quickly swat it away.

“I’m going to fuck you up, Munson.” you threaten, all talk and no bite. Smile still plastered on your face.

“Oh that’s alright, darling. I’ll find one you like eventually.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully nudging his side as you divert from the path Dustin was leading to follow Steve.

It’s a little game Eddie’s been playing the last few days, trying out different pet names on you to find one that sticks, one that feels right. It’s his own new loving way of teasing you, reveling in the reactions he gets out of you and how flustered the names make you.

“Oh Boom! Bada Bing Bada Boom! There she is, Henderson! Skull Rock in your face, man. Your stupid, cocky, little face.” Steve exclaims, opening the clearing of tree branches to reveal none other than Skull Rock.

“Alright, easy tiger.” You chuckle, patting Steve on the shoulder as you pass him to survey the famous sight.

“You knowwww” Eddie begins, creeping up next to you. “We can make this our new spot, honey bunny.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head before meeting his eyes.

“Honey bunny, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s perfect for you. Honey, cause you’re so sweet” His hip bumps yours. “And bunny…well, cause of the way you ride m-” Your hand flies up to cover his mouth, but you can still see the shit-eating grin underneath.

“Not in front of the children, Edward.” You teasingly scold him, wide-eyed. Removing your hand when a quick look around shows the others in their own conversations, Steve and Dustin still arguing.

“Oh yeah, that’s the one.” He smirks, holding your hips before placing his lips on yours.

“Ahem. I know I said this is a makeout spot but uh- you don’t have to take it literally.” Steve chimes in from behind Eddie, who instantly flips him the bird.

“Don’t gotta be jealous, Stevie.” Eddie teases when your lips part, turning to face Steve with a cheeky smile.

“I’m not jealous” Steve scoffs, arms crossed against his chest.

“Alright, alright. We’ve seen Skull Rock, now can we actually get to where we came here for?” You ask, stepping around Eddie to face Steve.

With that, your group is back off into the woods. Dustin and Steve lead the pack again, still arguing about Skull Rock as you head in the direction of the lake.

Upon reaching the water, you have the whole afternoon to spare. You and Robin sit on the pier, dipping your toes in and gossiping about your lives. You listen to her ramble about her crush that she can’t do anything about, being a supportive, understanding friend. Watching Steve, Eddie, Dustin, Lucas throw around a football on the shore line. You, Robin, and Max walk along the water searching for cool looking rocks to take back home with you.

“Man, we should’ve brought our bathing suits” Steve remarks, hands on his hips as he looks out at the soft waves on the lake.

“Shit, we could still strip down to our underwear and hop in” Eddie looks at you when you scoff. “Oh come on, honey bunny. Why don’t you hop in?” He flashes a bright smile at you as you give him an amused look, arms crossed.

“Yeah right, that water is freezing. I’d like to see you do it first.”

“I’m sure you would” he replies smugly with a wink, earning a light-hearted eye roll.

“Should’ve brought some fishing rods too.” Lucas adds.

“Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been fishing before.” 

“Well hell, kid. You don’t need fishing rods to catch a fish.”

You all watch in curiosity as Eddie grabs a sturdy, fallen stick and whips out his pocket knife, sharpening one end of the stick until it’s sharp and pointy.

“A spear… you’re going to catch fish with a spear?” Dustin questions with zero faith in his dungeon master.

“Worked for the cavemen” Eddie shrugs, taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up his jeans before he begins wading off into the water.

It’s dead quiet as you all watch him, intently staring down at the water with spear in hand, ready to strike in a split second. When he does, none of you expect the fish that he pulls out of the water at the end of it. He looks back to you all with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Looks like we’re having fish for dinner, sweet cheeks.”

“Oh, there’s no way in hell.” Steve quips in disbelief, rising to his feet.

“You’ve gotta teach me how to do that!” Dustin mutters in bewilderment. 

Soon, Eddie’s fashioned spears for all of you. Knee deep in the lake searching for fish to catch. Light laughter and mutterings of profanities floating across the water.

While half of you aren’t lucky enough to imitate Eddie’s catch, Steve and Max end up catching fish of their own.

You spend the last hour of sunlight making a small fire to cook the three fish you caught, half of you watching in disgust, the other half watching in interest as Eddie cleans them.

“I didn’t take you for a fisherman, Eddie” Robin comments in surprise, watching his effortless movements.

“Well, my Dad and Wayne have done their fair share of fishing trips, some of which I was dragged along to.”

You sit in a circle around the dying fire, eating your fish and watching as the sunset paints a cascade of colors in the sky, reflecting along the water.

When darkness falls around you, the group makes the trek back through the wooded trails with flashlights in hand, laughing as Eddie tries to spook the younger kids, making up ghost stories about the surrounding woods.

A quiet sigh of relief falls among the group as Eddie’s van and Steve’s BMW finally come into view.

“So, you guys excited for your trip to Indy tomorrow?” Steve asks, fishing the keys out of his pockets.

“Wait, you guys are going up to Indy?” Dustin nearly stops in his tracks.

“Yeah, bright and early. I’ve got a college visit up at Indiana University.”

“Mhmm, we’re gonna do some exploring, go to some record shops, make a whole day of it.” Eddie shares as he stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Shit, can I come too? Heard there’s this really cool, big comic book store up there!”

“I don’t know, Dusty. I don’t think your mom would be crazy about the idea.” You say regretfully, face twisting in uncertainty.

“Are you kidding, my mom loves you!”

“Yeah, she hasn’t seen Eddie’s driving though.”

“Excuse me, we always get where we’re going in one piece.”

You laugh, playfully nudging him with your elbow when his fingers tickle your sides before you bring your attention back to Dustin.

“Ugh. I don’t know, maybe next time okay?”

His head hangs with a small nod.

“Okay…”

“Oh god. Don’t guilt trip me, Henderson!” You plead, feeling the regret already seeping in.

“No no, it’s okay.” He sighs. “Guess I’ll just spend my day at Family Video harassing Steve.”

“Ha yeah, we’ll see how well that works out for you.” Steve scoffs.

You part from your friends with a hug and wishes for a safe trip for the two of you before climbing into the van with Max in tow to head home to the trailer park.

Another night falling asleep in Eddie’s arms, filled with excitement for a full day of adventure planned for just the two of you.

Saturday, March 29th, 1986

The ringing of Eddie’s alarm clock comes far too soon, waking you both from your peaceful slumber with groans and yawns. 

“Just 5 more minutes..” Eddie mumbles as he buries his face in your neck. You giggle, running your fingers through his hair.

“5 more minutes turns into us being late, love.” 

As you part from his grasp to look for your change of clothes, he releases a pitiful ‘Hmph’ before joining you to scuffle around his room, looking for any decent clean clothes he has.

Shortly after as the sun rises in the morning sky, you load into Eddie’s van to begin the hour and a half drive up to Indianapolis. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, blasting the radio, and singing along to Keep on Loving You by REO Speedwagon as you pull onto the main highway. 

Once you’ve gone a fair distance, your head rolls against the headrest to look at Eddie.

“I’m gonna need some caffeine soon, babe.”

As soon as his head turns to meet yours he releases a big yawn, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Shit, me too.” His eyes search for exit signs on the side of the highway. “There’s a McDonald’s at the next exit, we can get some breakfast?”

As his head turns to look at you, he catches movement in the back of the van in his peripheral.

“Oooh some hash browns sound good!” Dustin’s head pops up between you from his previous position laying in the back of the van.

Both of you nearly jump out of your seat, screaming at the unexpected third voice joining you in the van. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie yells, white knuckling the steering wheel as he jerks the van back into the lane, beginning to veer off toward the ditch on the side of the road from the distraction.

“What the fuck, Henderson?!” you exclaim, looking back at him in disbelief as he only meets you with a wide, toothy grin.

“What? I decided to take matters into my own hands! Have you ever known me to take ‘no’ for an answer, hmm?”

“Yeah and you almost just got us killed!” Eddie argues, taking deep inhales through his nostrils to calm himself.

“Well, maybe you should’ve been paying better attention to the road rather than ogling your girlfriend.” Dustin retorts with his signature cocky tone.

You see Eddie bite his lower lip, taking everything in him to not flip out. Your hand reaches to squeeze his thigh, letting him focus on the road before turning back to Dustin.

“How did you even get in here?”

“Well, someone leaves his van unlocked at night. I biked over at the crack of dawn, hid my bike behind the trailer and climbed in through the back.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, shaking your heads in disbelief. You can’t help but laugh.

“And Steve says he’s always the babysitter…” You mutter with a sigh, looking out the window as Eddie takes an exit ramp.

“Hey, I’m not a child!”

“No, but you are a minor that I am now responsible for watching over in a big city!”

“Okay, look. I promise, I will be on my best behavior. I’ll be right by your side the whole time!”

“Oh, I feel so much better now!” Eddie announces sarcastically. You smirk at him before rubbing a hand over your face exasperatedly.

“So… about those hash browns”

Your moods eventually lighten with the greasy fast food breakfast, caffeine, and the dwindling miles separating you from your destination.

Eddie’s fingers stay firmly entwined with yours throughout the campus tour, walking the pathways and exploring the buildings. A mere mile from the heart of the city, its tallest buildings are visible from nearly any spot at the college.

You’re not sure if it’s merely the effect of having Eddie and Dustin with you as you explore one of your prospective colleges or your faint familiarity with the city you’ve visited on occasion, but you find yourself at total ease. Effortlessly imagining yourself attending there, walking down the street to explore shops after classes, making the manageable drive back to Hawkins on weekends to visit your loved ones. 

You don’t want to be rash and get your hopes up considering you haven’t gotten any acceptances yet, but it feels good here.

As promised, after your tour is done and the campus efficiently explored, the 3 of you make a day out of exploring the rest of Indianapolis. 

Stopping at a cute little coffee and bakery shop, eying the multitude of fashion stores that line the streets. Finally finding the comic book store Dustin had mentioned, far bigger than you ever imagined and spending over an hour inside browsing the comics and action figures. You’d even found new figurines and dice for DnD that Eddie quickly scooped up, excited for another little project of painting the new figurines for the next Hellfire campaigns.

Then, to the part you and Eddie were looking forward to the most, visiting the biggest music store in Indianapolis that just so happened to have a Guitar Center right next door. Perusing the aisles of vinyl records and cassette tapes, snatching up Ozzy Osbourne’s new The Ultimate Sin album as soon as you see it, after weeks of waiting for it to arrive at Hawkins’ stores. You and Eddie even found merch for Metallica’s new Master of Puppets album, both eagerly grabbing a new t-shirt. Dustin finding yet another Weird Al shirt to add to his collection.

Next, you marvel at the shiny, brand new guitars lining the walls of Guitar Center. Setting your sights and hearts on the next ones to be added to your collection. You and Dustin watch as Eddie tests one out, smiling widely and headbanging along as he plays Master of Puppets, a song you’ve witnessed him spend the last few weeks trying to perfect. 

Though you end up leaving the guitar store empty handed, both you and Eddie leave with the image of your next guitar seared into your minds, the next thing you save up your money for.

With sore feet, all your objectives crossed off and the sun setting, the three of you climb back into Eddie’s van to head home. As soon as the van merges back on the highway, you slide your new Ozzy tape into Eddie’s radio, providing the soundtrack to your drive home. You all nod along and headbang to each passing song.

The last song, A Shot in the Dark begins to play and immediately pulls you in.

But a shot in the dark

One step away from you

Just a shot in the dark

Always creeping up on you, alright

The words of the chorus linger in your mind as Ozzy’s voice carries into the next verse. You know it doesn’t reflect the real meaning of the lyrics by the musicians, but as you mull them over you can’t help but think about your relationship with Eddie. What it took to get to where you are now, the time and feelings, the risk.

The risk it took for Eddie to pick you up and take you to the lake that night, hoping he’d get you to open up to him. The risk it took for you to finally lay it all out, your feelings and love for him. Neither of you knowing where it would go, if the risk would be worth it. It was a shot in the dark.

One step away from you. That’s how it truly felt before that night. 

You and Eddie had always been so close, but your hidden feelings were lodged right in the middle. A dark, looming bubble of words and feelings left unsaid wedged between you, keeping you apart. 

One step away.

A bubble that needed to be burst, popped to get to where you are now.

Your eyes trail from the road to your boyfriend next to you, nodding along the music.

The happiest, and closest you’ve ever been.

That whole time, one step was all it was keeping you from what you both always wanted. 

One step, a shot in the dark you’re so glad you both took that night.

When the chorus comes back around, you sing along as your hand reaches out for his. He turns to you with that loving smile, fingers wrapping around yours and resting on the middle console between you.

[eisforeidolon]

[Following on from talking about Kim Manners for a while]

Mark: He was just an amazing guy -

Jared: The best.

Mark: He was something else. And look, I've worked with a lot of people, and I've known you since you were a lot younger.

Jared: Hey! Same! Same!

Mark: A lot younger. And the truth is, to - it sounds so corny [mocking voice] 'Oh, this show is a family'. Look, this is a place where we went to work with 150 of our friends for over, y'know, a decade and a half. I did nearly a decade of it. And I think the energy that he instilled upon how to behave on a set was absolutely the reason why anybody could walk on that show and be treated like gold. [Jared nods as he's talking] You could succeed if you came with your A game, you were looked after and you were carried. And if you were crap? You were looked after and you were carried. I swear to God I have seen this, couple people that didn't - I won't ever say what it is, but didn't make it beyond a certain small amount of an arc, they just didn't have the right thing or didn't get it or whatever.

Jared: Yeah, the right attitude. We even had people that recurred and returned, who maybe they weren't as solid of an actor as a Mark Sheppard or a Mark Pellegrino type, but they were good enough and they were kind. And they showed up and they wanted to work and they wanted to laugh and they knew their lines and hit their marks and they showed up on time and there was no bullshit. It was like, okay, we can work with this. And so let's keep on going -

Mark: There was a trust element that was mind-blowing, and I've worked on some amazing sets in my time, but it was special, man. To know that every single person in that crew had my back every single day.

Jared: Amen.

Mark: When we did the end of season 8, when you and I were doing hours [Jared says something here I can't make out] and hours and hours of this stuff. That group, right, so in between shots, right? In between shots, you've gotta move lights, you've gotta move cameras, you've gotta do stuff. And they don't have to be quiet. They're working all day, they've been there three hours before us, they're leaving three hours after us -

Jared: And it was a long trek, it was like an hour away from town. On some, like, beautiful lake that Phil Sgriccia -

Mark: Oh, on the outside when we did - but when we went to the stage, when we came back to do the interiors?

Jared: Yes, yes.

Mark: And we did the interiors in there, they didn't make a sound between takes for two days. Because the boys are being serious, we'll support 'em. And that's how we got through those pages and pages of stuff. Jensen -

Jared: It was a couple of - two or three days or something.

Mark: It was two or three days -

Jared: And then Jensen and Alaina come in.

Mark: It was nuts. It was so - but we, like, you see all the gag reels, right? You see how silly everything gets? The reason why the gag reels are fun is cause we work hard, so one mistake -

Jared: [?] you're done, never forget. I will say this, a lot of y'all know Mark and have known him many times or met him many times, and a lot of y'all know, can agree with me, he doesn't shut the fuck up. Ever.

Mark: [Mark holds his hands up and nods] I talked my way through six heart attacks, trust me.

Jared: Other than the two or three day span where we were in that chapel. And it was so - it was before the AKF campaigns, it was - what Sam was going through, in a very different way, was similar to what Jared kinda had gone through and was going through? And so I went to a weird place, it's the only time in my 480 episodes of television I've ever listened to music during - in between scenes? And Mark is tied up, you know, you're my Marley moose and all that bit? And like, usually when you're tied up during a scene, they call cut and they move the cameras, it takes twenty minutes and you go like, untie me, I'm going to my trailer to pee and have some water? He just stayed there and was quiet the whole time, because I just sat there in the corner, he was just there for me, so kudos to you, Mark Sheppard.

Mark: And kudos to Jensen. Jensen was off-camera for a day and a half. Off-camera, in character, for a day and a half. It's - you suddenly realize that everybody's got your back and it's just the greatest feeling in the world. When you're trying to do - there's never enough time, there's never enough money, there's never enough ability to make the best that you can make of it, you know? We're all trying, but when you know everybody is trying to make the best possible thing for you guys [gestures to audience] that we can make, with all our hearts, with everything that we care about? It's just a fantastic experience. And what I love about, I was talking about the gag reels, what I love about the gag reels is you're seeing the antidote to that.

Jared: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Mark: So when Jensen for the first time in his entire history can't get a line out of his mouth, which is I'd rather be smacked during sex by a girl with a Zorro mask -

Jared: He kept messing it up!

Mark: He messed it one time, and you killed him.

Jared: Oh for sure. For sure.

Mark: We have thirty eight takes of that. He never messed a line up in -

Jared: Worth it. He kept on removing a word or adding a word and I was like [frustrated voice] that's not the word! But it was good. Anyways. Great time, great family, let's get some questions.

[marvelous-slut]

idk how i keep writing about our boy happy, like i have so many WIPs and two of them are chibs & juice, literally almost done and my brain said “but how about we write one for happy AND finish it all in one day.” like ?? idk guys he has a choke hold over me and i’m not even complaining i love his ass 🫶🏻 anyways here’s to my happy fans i hope y’all enjoy some smut. this also gets no title bc my brain ain’t working enough for that right now, so sorry xx

SMUT! 18+ ONLY my friends, if you’re younger than 18 please exit left! lots of smut, didn’t proof read

“we’re gonna head to the porn studio boys, gotta talk some business with Luann.” jax says, hoping on his bike. tig stands with happy as he throws his hands up.

“come on man, we’re standing right here and you’re just gonna rub that in our faces.?” jax smirks and straps his helmet on.

“never said you guys couldn’t tag along, i know how much the two of you like pussy.” tig needs to hear no more as he walks over to his bike and hops on. happy decides to join them as he does in-fact love pussy and he definitely loves porn.

_________

immediately when entering Luann’s porn studio, tig is gone. he’s looking around the studio, he’s looking at the half naked women strutting around, he finally stops when he sees a girl on girl scene being filmed. not even a fire could take his eyes off this action. happy follows, looking around himself. he sees spots Luann speaking with a familiar face.

“holy shit.” he mutters out, he recognizes your face and body from anywhere. he’d never admit he had a favorite porn star, he did enjoy most of what he watched, but you in fact got him off quicker and made him harder than any other woman he’d watched on screen. he swears he’s seen every film you’ve had, girl on girl, straight, threesomes, but his favorites were your solos. he notices the tight royal blue dress hugging your body and he feels himself growing harder. once he sees you break away from Luann he decides to take his chances. he watches you wrap a bottle of water around his your lips, he comes over and grabs a bottle as well.

“hey.” he says, feeling like he can hardly speak, you turn around and smile at him.

“hey.” you say back to him, noticing the leather that matches your new business partners SAMCRO. he stares at you for a moment, unsure of what else to say, you decide to break the silence. “cat got your tongue?” you ask him, he puts a head on the back of his head.

“uh. no. you just look familiar.” he says, happy doesn’t usually feel nervous around anyone especially women but he felt like he was meeting a big time celebrity which he guessed that was somewhat accurate.

“which movies your favorite baby?” you ask, running a hand down his leather. he smirks, looking you up and down.

“i prefer the solos.” you smile at him, usually the answer you got from men was girl on girl. you grab his hand, leading him to the back room where you and your girls got ready. thankfully most of them were sniffing around the SAMCRO members, giving them a good time. once the two of you were in the room, you kiss him on the lips roughly.

he runs a hand up to your ass and grasps it, before you know it you feel your back against the wall. you pull away from the kiss to help him take off his kutte, as he’s doing this he also sheds the shirt he wore under. you notice all the tattoos and his muscular body, feeling your body heat up. you’d slept with plenty of men and women, you would think being on camera would take some embarrassment away from off camera sex, but not with this man. at this moment you realize you didn’t even get his name.

you pull him by the waist band of his jeans and drop to the floor to your knees, undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall to the ground. once his boxers come off, your eyes grow and a loud “wow” leaves your lips. he smirks at hearing this, he would never not feel proud hearing about how big his dick was but he was ecstatic to hear it come from his favorite porn stars lips. he feels himself twitch as you wrap your lips around him. he’s met with a hand wrapping around him as well, even tho you were some what of an expert at the matter, you weren’t about to embarrass yourself a choke on this man. he notices your hair getting in the way and decides to hold it up for you, his fist wrapping tightly around it. you pull him out of your mouth, running your tongue from the base to his head. he moans out at this action, he pulls your hair as a signal to come up to him.

before you know it, you’re laying out on the couch. happy lifts your dress up, revealing that you have no panties on underneath.

“shit girl. no panties?” he asks, you pull the top of your dress down, revealing your breast. you feel your nipples become hard from the cold air.

“makes it easier for moments like these.” he grins, pulling you to the edge of the couch, he slides himself into you without warning. you let out a moan, you were already soaking wet. usually it took a little lube for the shoots, but this man did something that no one else had done in a long time. he’s thrusting slowly, but steady.

“god damn.” he mutters out, running his hand to your breast. “pussy is even better in person than then on camera. you know how many times i’ve fantasied about this?” he hears you let out the oh so familiar moans that before he’d only heard in porn. you lift your head up and grin.

“is it all you ever dreamed of?” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your face, kissing him sloppily and wiping away his sweat with your hand. he can feel the tops of your nails sticking into his neck. “shit. even better than that.” he says, thrusting himself into you harder than before. your moans mimicked what he has heard many times before, but it seemed more enjoyable this time around, much more authentic.

you wiggle yourself out of the corner of the couch and manage to get him to lay on his back, happy was taken back. he was used to doggy style or being in control in missionary, he couldn’t even remember the last time a woman rode him. you ease down onto his cock, “fuck.” he let’s out, he can’t believe what’s happening, it still doesn’t feel real. he feels like a teenage boy again fucking someone for the first time. you grind yourself on him, taking his hands and placing them on your hips to help guide you.

“how many times have you thought of this baby?” you ask, he digs his nails into the side of your hips, making you gasp in pleasure.

“you don’t even know.” you feel pressure building inside of you, ready to explode. “you sure do know how to work a man’s fucking cock.” the words send you over the edge, happy feels you clenching around him.

“oh my god!” you scream out, he watches your face, although he remembers plenty of the orgasms you’d had in your movies, he’d never seen one like this before. you continue riding him, finishing off your orgasm. you feel him go to push you off so he can cum himself, but you hold him down with your hands still grinding onto him.

“oh now, don’t think you didn’t do all that work to not get to cum inside of me.” you say, moving your hands to his face.

“fuck!” he let’s out, he releases into you and enjoys every second of it. no second thoughts. once the both of you have finished, you hop off him and grab the closest towel that had your initials printed onto it, specially made for you of course as you were one of Luann’s biggest earners. you throw one to happy as well, he stands up, cleaning himself off. you throw on a bright pink robe, throw your hair up into a bun and walk over to him.

“you know, i never did catch your name.”

“happy.” he says, you chuckle for a second until you realize he’s being serious.

“cute, i like it. we should do this again happy.” you say, grabbing your water and taking off to the restroom. he finished cleaning himself off and gives himself a pat on the back, realizing now he can have the real deal instead of his screen.

[sagasolejma]

your blog is really comforting, i’ve been silently lurking a bit, but I just want to ask because I wouldn’t want to step boundaries-are minors (teenagers) allowed to interact ? I didn’t see anything about it in the pinned so I assume??

Well first of all, thank you for calling my blog comforting, that just made my day! ^w^

And yes, this is something I've been clear about in the past: minors are 100% welcome here and allowed to interact, as long as "interact" doesn't mean flirting with me, because in that case then please don't lol.

While I'm sure many of the other blogs have their reasons for the whole "Minors DNI" thing, I've never really been able find a reason to do it. I don't really believe anything I post is "too inappropriate" for minors, and I'm also not really a part of those people that are like "I literally cannot talk to anyone under 18" because, well... I have siblings and cousins who are way younger than me, we get along just fine, they're humans too, y'know?

And most importantly, it's about being a "safe space" that extends out to queer minors too (or at least that's what I'd like to believe) like, I know what my primary follower base is and it sure as hell isn't cishet men, and I figure that among that group of queer people, there's gotta be some queer and trans kids and teens too, and for a lot of them Tumblr might genuinely feel like the only place they can be themselves, and so what are they gonna do when they go around and literally every single blog they meet they're just met with "minors do not interact" like... damn, leave some space for the children too, y'know? Again I'm sure most blogs that do this have their own good reasons, but as long as I don't see any reason to limit my blog in that way, I won't.

Sorry for the long rant, I guess the short answer is yes (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

[normal-internet-user]

OKKK OK look technicality speaking,,, i'm supposed to be indulging in the sleebies rn. BUT my brain would NOT let me sleep until i commished this to ya!!



your peepaw leo answer? fantabulous. jaw dropping, awe-inspiring, hit just the spot. Extravagantly whimsically stupendous. ultra super mega amazing. need i say more? YES AND I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO-

yet. ☝🏼 & hear me out here.

*folds hands all neat and preppy in front of me, leans in close so we're nose-to-nose, all business* 

I have a storm a-brewin'. Up in the ole noggin'? Knock knock.

SPECIFICALLY ABOUT Reader and how they interact with Present (or to them, Past!) Leo!!

They're not as forthcoming as Casey, and I imagine that even after the war is won and the apocalypse is therefore prevented, that initial hostility would fade! … but instead it’d become … kind of awkward? They don't hate Leo, it's just. 

Not the Leo they know.

Not the Leo they know and love and miss and mourn and glory to be, they’ve got their work cut out for them.



Reader is still coping with the loss of everything. the breathing techniques alongside Master Michelangelo's high EQ teachings on handling emotions help a lot more than they'd expected.

And!! The present (past??? aughguhghhhh) Hamatos are a big help too!! With time, it all does get better ^^)

(AKA: everyone's ✨traumatized & coping together✨, m'kay? m'kay.)

This all boils down to Reader and how they re-evaluate (rebuild?) their relationship with Leo. The Leo in THIS timeline that they helped save. How they heal from their wounds, inside and out, and try to make the best of what they’ve got. Because if the future taught them one thing: it was that no matter what, you've gotta keep going. Don't give up.

Canon plotline following n' stuff before the fluff downpour!

Here's a hc format for random moments in the way I see it bc it's easier? Is it? (/lh)

When Leo was finally released from the Escape Pod and everyone took in how haggard he looked— pale, shaking, horrified at what he just witnessed,

When he snapped and lunged at Casey, 

Reader’s reaction was swifter than a bullet. 

They swept in front of their brother, effectively and terrifyingly going toe-to-toe, snout-to-nose with this Leo, snarling out a bite of their barely-concealed rage. Their eyes are slits, their teeth are fangs poised to strike, and the venom is promised.

They’re just as dangerous as him at that moment.

The threat goes unsaid: Back. Off.

Their heart is racing like crazy, alarm bells ringing in their head and frustrated tears build up in their eyes. They're swimming— no. Drowning in confusion. In feelings. In dread. In nausea. In grief.

They didn't care what iteration of Leo this was or what they'd ever face: the image of Papa, whatever version it was, even thinking of bringing harm to Casey was enough to send them teetering over the edge.

Time travel. Alien invasion. From “Apocalypse Is The Norm” to “You Can Stop This Hellscape From Ever Happening BUT You Wipe Out Everything You've Ever Known Along With it.”

....

yeah that's enough to make a grown man cry.



Reader quickly realizing that, amongst their simmering anger, there was a kind of fear. Not just the impending sense of anxiety at everything that was happening around them, but this was familiar.

Papa had never been an inherently volatile person (turtle? snrt), but he was a Leader.

His very presence demanded respect. 9.∞ times outta 10, he got it.

Despite the image of their beloved dad momentarily crumbling within meeting his younger counterpart, Reader can’t help but cling to that familiarity.

The familiarity of that intimidation – that regard – in Leonardo. 

He was pissed, that’s for sure. And Reader was actually kind of scared. Their Papa never was a violent person per se, but he’s had his moments. 

It was kind of uncanny, seeing the young shards of those traits come to be. To see this young Leo, with so much ahead of him, slowly but surely become the man you knew and was raised by. 

In spite of yourself, you could feel that same reverence and respect bloom in your chest. It hurt too, because it felt like it was for the wrong reasons. 

Yet, you digress.

Besides, you were never one to hold fast to grudges – it was poisonous. And despite feeling like you were being poisoned slowly, in to out, you knew it’d pass. 

It was along the lines of something Uncle Mikey had told you once ...

“What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.' Never forget, sunshine. Even when it feels like your world is ending, and you're caught right in the midst of it all?

... You can choose to birth a beautiful butterfly, ready to take on the world. You're a butterfly; every great thing starts small, no?” 

So. You watched Leo out of the corner of your eyes. Listened to Junior as he sparkled and praised your young uncles, telling them the truth of their characters in your timeline.

—andddd a flash of hot annoyance flared up in your chest when your brother piped up something about Papa’s rescue of a resistance camp to the teenager him,

You tried to settle the war within yourself. How would you fight both at once? Not when there was an entire one unfolding right in front of your very eyes. 

. . . you wanted your Papa.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ;༊

this has been,,, the first part of many a Wal-Mart ad. BA-DUM-TSS!

i'd add way more but my eyes feel like they're about to fall out jsjsj

*air kithes (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ /p and lounges on your back porch, cracking open a cold juice pouch* Penny for your thoughts, toots?

Ok, first of all: Dear (/p) you are a freakin genius- now let us discus some things over a juice pouch.

READER POST-MOVIE/DURING THE MOVIE HEADCANONS

....................................

You are 100% percent correct about all of that.

Firstly, when April manages to knock both of you out and drag you back to the Lair,

Casey is much more open, and excited.

You're treating them as a potential threat.

I'm talking resting bitch face, broski.

Sure, in the future, these people raised you, but this isn't the future.

So you glare and let CJ do the talking, because at the moment your still processing,

And your anger could lash out at anyone in this room.

When Leo turns on Casey, your reaction was like second nature.

You had alot of moments during the apocolypse where if you took to long to assess the threat, you were dead.

So when Leo lunged at Casey, and your mind locked him in as a threat,

Those familiar instincts of, "Danger: protect family" kicked in.

Weapon drawn, teeth beared, you looked more feral than Leo,

But you were scared too.

You were so fucking scared.

You knew this wasn't your papa,

You knew that.

But to see his younger counter part so angry, so ready to be violent was terrifying.

You'd only ever seen your papa angry and violent one time in your life.

It happened when you had to drag Casey back to base, half dead and yourself much worse for wear.

You'll never forget the violence that shone in his eyes at the sight of his children.

One unconcious and bleeding,

The other hardly able to stand.

You have no idea what happened to the officer that sent you and Casey out,

But he wasn't seen around much after that, most said he was demoted to work in the more... laboring parts of the base.

Looking into Leo's eyes at this moment, you see a very similar violence to that day,

But what scares you is that violence is now directed at your brother.

After Casey explains none of this happened in your guys' time,

Leo shoved past you, and had his little, "We're going because I say so" moment.

You were beyond pissed.

Here was his team, telling him to wait,

To hold on a second, to come up with a plan,

And he was just- ignoring them.

But, you kept silent and followed Casey when he left with Leo,

You'd be damned if you left your brother alone with this idiot.

In the turtle tank, while Casey practically sings his praises, you can't help the scowl that builds on your face.

Casey kept using present tense, "You are.", and, "you were" in Donnie's case,

He just couldn't seem to grasp that this wasn't your family, future tense should be used.

Not past, not present, future.

Because he's not technically wrong,

But it still rubs you the wrong way for him to compare your Papa, to this guy.

In the subway tunnels, you get seperated from Casey, you end up with Donnie and Mikey.

Mikey had to physically pull you into the tank kicking and screaming.

You needed to be next to your brother.

You had always been right beside each other your whole lives,

You were terrified.

When you were in that tank, and it was on the verge of crumbling, you started having flashbacks of the time Kraang had attacked your first home.

You were so small, just a little kid waiting for Papa to come find you.

You were on the verge of sobbing as you desperatly tried getting ahold of Casey.

Skipping ahead to the end of the movie,

You didn't wanna let go of Casey's hand.

It's odd, knowing that you don't need to see what's lurking in every corner,

Because there's nothing there anymore.

You don't have to be scared.

That's when you notice the shimmer of something clipped to your boot.

Looking down, you see a blue, star shaped hair clip.

How it had managed to stay on your boot this entire time was a mystery,

But what was less of a mystery was how it got there.

You knew your papa had placed it there.

You grabbed the hair clip of your boot, tears welled in your eyes,

Then you let out a choked sob.

You clutched the hair pin so tightly you might draw blood, and you sobbed and sobbed.

It was like all your emotions poured out at once, you didn't even know which one you were feeling.

It was a mix of grief, sadness, anger, and anguish.

Casey pulled you close, muttering how proud he was of you, you'd done so well.

"Sensei would be proud." he said, "Papa would be proud of you."

You clung to your brother like he was your life line, because in a way he was.

He was all you had left of your life before.

Post-movie, you're awkward around Leo to say the least.

During the movie, you were angry with him, mostly because of the paralelles between him and Master Leonardo.

But post-movie it's just awkward,

You can't look at him without being reminded of the father figure you lost.

All you wanted was for your papa to hold you,

To sing you to sleep like he used to do to hide the sounds of the monsters lurking above.

You just want your papa- no, you need your papa.

You need to hear his voice again, sure, technically you hear it every day but it's not the same!

You need to hear him.

You've taken to replaying audio recordings through your own mask.

Laying in your bed late into the night, replaying the same video's until your papa's voice lulls you into an uneasy sleep...

....................................

My thoughts for you my dearest! (/p) free of charge!

I plan on writing some fluffy Papa Leo oneshots sometime soon, not to worry!

For now, have these!

[crystallizedtwilight]

Have there been emotional moments between LB? Or Lock or Barrel being sad? Is there possible to see more fluff with them? Love your art of Lock and Barrel together.

below the cut!

Aside from the general trauma bonding that took place whilst living in fear of Boogie, there fortunately haven’t been too many sad days after Boogie is gone. There is only one of major note, which wasn’t between Lock and Barrel, but rather Lock and Shock:

The biggest meltdown Lock ever had was when Shock started coven studies.

He had an extremely difficult time when Shock announced she was going to start spending a few days a month with the coven, learning from the more experienced witches in town and improving her magic. For Shock, this was a matter of bettering herself, a dream she needed to pursue to feel happy and fulfilled. However, Lock was mortified, feeling like she was abandoning them or breaking their trio in some way.

He hated the idea of “sharing” her with outsiders. He also couldn’t relate to Shock reaching out for help from others (something he finds incredibly difficult to do). He had a very firm Us vs. The World attitude that saw him through his younger days, and he couldn't fathom the idea that his friends might be open to letting others assist. He was angry with her, purposefully starting irrelevant arguments, and when she had to leave for a week to study a moon ritual they ended things on bad terms. Barrel could see how distressed he was and tried to comfort him: 

“She’s not ditching us, Lock. She just…has a dream she’s got to follow.”

“Yeah? Well if feels fucking shitty being second best to that dream.” 

“It’s not like that. She still cares about us. She just cares about this, too.” 

“I don’t get it! I always thought all we needed was each other! But I guess…”

Lock’s whole expression fell at his own realization, brow furrowed, gold eyes brimming with tears as he stared unseeingly at the floor,

“…I-I guess the only person who needed this was me.”

“Lock…” 

“Are you gonna leave, too?” Lock’s voice was small and hurt, strained with the struggle not to cry. Naturally, Barrel pulled him into a hug, holding him almost too tightly to steady Lock’s shaking as the tears started.

“No, I’m not leaving you. Never.” 

Lock sobbed a lot that week and every night he slept in Barrel’s room because he couldn’t be alone.

When Shock returned from her retreat, Barrel pulled her aside and let her know that Lock was really broken up about all of this and that is why he was being so irritable with her lately.

Completely surprised by this, Shock decided to take a gentler approach. She found Lock on the roof and sat beside him so they could have a heart-to-heart. 

“I’m not leaving for good, you know.”

“You can do whatever you want. I don’t care,” Lock said, knees pulled to his chest, arms crossed over them, avoiding eye contact.

Instead of initiating another fight, Shock understood the issue better now, seeing Lock’s insecurities on full display.

“You and Barrel are always gonna be my best friends, you know that, right?”

Lock was silent. 

“Having several dreams doesn’t mean choosing between them. I’m not leaving because I don’t like you guys, I’m leaving because I want to like me more. I want to be proud of myself, you know? Live up to my full potential. And you guys are a part of that, even if we’re not together every second.”

“So, you’ll still be around, right? You won’t decide you like them more than us one day and stop coming back to the treehouse?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you in line. I’m the leader of the group, after all!” Shock said, brightly.

“I’m the leader.”

“Birds of a feather?” Shock offered.

“Now and forever.” Lock echoed with a small smile.

[sp00kymulderr]

part 3 - Afterburn

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, cursing, details of grief, survivors guilt, dealing with emotions badly, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing, m masturbation, premature ejaculation, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving). Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: “Do you remember what it’s like to be happy?”

A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long to post. I'm really proud of this one. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist. Credit to banner/divider maker.

Joel is not the same after you return from your short shower. Your packs are waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs as he stands by the door scanning the horizon, an impatient tut leaves him.

“We gotta go, you ready?” He grunts, not even bothering to look at you.

“Joel c’mon…” You respond, your voice a little hoarse.

“Just-” Joel snaps and then sighs, finishing the rest of the sentence in a slightly softer tone “Grab your stuff. Put on your boots”

He shoulders his pack and walks out the door, waiting on the porch. You mutter your frustration. He isn’t being fair and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. You want to understand why this is such a bad thing - the two of you - but he doesn’t seem to want to even acknowledge what happened.

You sit on the sagging couch and look once more around the old house. It’s always difficult to come to these places, but somehow it’s also difficult to leave them. Someone lived here, someone loved here, someone was happy here once – you hope at least. You look around the dusty living room once more and contemplate, as you always do. What has this place seen, what kind of people called it a home? What secrets does it keep?

Those thoughts bring you to your own home too, where you’d been until the outbreak. You’d never gone back but you’d often thought of returning, seeing if anything of your old life still existed. Since you’d lost your last connection to your past.

You shake your head and pull on the new boots lacing them tight, ready to put them to the test at least. Joel is waiting for you outside when you finally make your way to him and he’s already walking, apparently sure of the direction.

You follow in silence for a while. Your feet don’t hurt as bad as before and you’re grateful for that.

“Did you ever go home, Joel?” You ask eventually, hesitant.

“Huh?” he’s only half listening to you, looking around for any signs of imminent threat.

“You ever go back to your old home?”

“No” is all he says.

You leave it at that.

The last thing Joel wants to think about is home. Home is where his broken heart is. He’d never go back there, he’d pull the memory completely from his head if he could. 

There’s a lot of memories he wishes he didn’t have to have.

And now he has a new one; his head feels so all over the place because of you and your lips, your warmth, the disquieting solace he found in you. He knows he shouldn’t punish you for any of it; for what happened, for how he feels, for how he doesn’t understand his feelings. But he’s already punishing himself for everything else that’s ever happened, so you’ll have to take the brunt of this mistake.

And it was a mistake, he knows that. You don’t want him the way you think you do. He’s sure of it. It’s not about anything more than forgetting for you, for finding some distraction from your pain. He knows it too well. He’s been there. He’s still there in a way but at least after all these years he knows better than to chase that feeling. He has to keep away, help you know better too.

“Keep up” He mutters as he looks back at you, and he knows he sounds harsh but he can’t stop himself.

That deceitful monster in him wants more. He feels it. He won’t give in to it.

When you were younger you used to run free and happy in the green garden outside your house. You would spend all your time outside, climbing trees, scaling rocks, swimming in the lake by the forest. You had a treehouse in the garden and you'd climb up to it every summer night and watch the world from up there, free and happy and something more.

Alive in more ways than just surviving.

She'd been with you even then, you'd share secrets and tell stories cuddled up in your sleeping bags in the treehouse at night together. You lived for those moments when you and your best friend would live in your own world and everything else was just background noise.

Now you're climbing trees and scaling rocks but not for the same reasons the innocent child of your past would. You have to scope out the land, find a good place to stop. Joel helps boost you up to a branch so you can climb, to check out some noise in the distance of the forest, and when you snag your shirt on a twig you have this pang of gut-wrenching muscle memory of that time she fell from the treehouse and you thought for a moment of blind panic that you'd lost her.

You hate that every single thing reminds you of her. You despise the memories for making you misty eyed and weak. The more Joel ignores you as the time goes on, the worse it gets. The more you remember, the more everything reminds you of your dead best friend and the lives you'd lost to this world of horrors. Your life next, you know. That’s all there is now.

Just you.

And Joel. 

Joel, who was pulling away more and more with every passing second. His hesitant gaze on you lands regretful and forlorn.

Eventually up in the tree you're able to see far enough to know there's a camp of people further down the forest, so when you’re back down Joel decides on a detour that leads you both far in the opposite direction not wanting to take any risks. Your new boots are finally starting to rub after hours and hours of walking - nothing good lasts forever. You wonder if the person they belonged to before you ever got to wear them, if you shared the pain of blisters from the same shoes. If the people in that house used to go hiking in this vast forest every weekend. You wonder if they are dead now too, or just trying desperately to survive. Are they trying to make it back to their home, to find the memories they’d left behind?

You'd go home. You would. If you ever could. It's too far now, too dangerous and too much to ever think you could make it there. Besides, what would you do when you got there? Hope you had anything of yours left? Let yourself drown in the pain of distant memories, of things you knew you’d never get back? But there were things, all these trinkets you wanted to hold to your heart now you have nothing else. Photos; pictures printed and framed or posted on your walls with sticky tack since you were a teenager. Family and friends and pets and all the things you have lost. The things you’d never, ever get back.

The silence consumes you and you think you’d rather wallow in your grief and misery back at the place where you were once happy, instead of being here where your longing and guilt are driving you to insanity with every ticking second. You miss talking, you miss having a friend. She was everything you ever needed in life, she was the only thing that had made you happy in the years since the world ended. You need that, and you know Joel won’t give you any of the things you need. He doesn’t want to know you any more than he has now. You can’t see past his actions back at the house and he can’t see you in any way other than shamefully anymore.

You don’t even know what to say to him now. So you just walk, and ignore the aching and misery consuming you whole.

It’s a few hours later and your feet are starting to bleed through your socks, because all good things must come to an end in this empty horror of a world. Joel finally decides it’s time to stop and make camp. It’s getting dark after all and there’s the opportunity for cover while you’re still under the protection of the vast forest - you’re nearly at the edge now. 

“This should work” he mutters more to himself than you as he looks over the spot you’ve stopped at.

He briefly glances at you and it’s nothing but it’s more than he’s given you in hours so it makes you feel a little glint of that spark from before again. What if you just kissed him again, the way he let you before? Would he stop you? You know he likely would, but it doesn’t stop you wanting to try.

Like he knows, he’s stepping further from you acting like he’s inspecting the site he’s picked. There’s nothing to inspect - it’s a patch of mossy forest floor with a large rock on one side and what looks like an ancient tree on the other. You watch him momentarily and feel that misery all over. Touch would solve it all. His touch would solve everything just like it did before. The darkness above the trees could hold a secret if he could just give you something, a tiny thing to keep your sadness at bay.

And yet you are both wordless as you set up the small camp; no fire - that would potentially draw attention and the woods are never an entirely safe place to be - just your sleeping bags set up with an arm's length between the two like he’s worried you’ll somehow get the wrong idea if he gives you even the possibility of touching him again.

“Here” He mutters when you’re both sitting down and you almost laugh with the ridiculousness of how hard he’s trying to not even give you his gaze anymore. He hands you some of the jerky that’s been wrapped in his pack for a while. It’s dry and hard.

“We got all that stuff from the house” 

“Gonna split it, when we…” He mutters without finishing his sentence.

“Oh”

When we go our separate ways. That’s what he meant and he doesn’t have to say it. He’s gonna leave you. Leave you completely alone.

“You know where you’re gonna go?” Joel asks and maybe there’s the hint of guilt in his voice but more likely you’re imagining it.

Tears prick hot in your eyes and you try to blink them away. All this time you’d done so well at not letting him see you cry; the tears from your loss and your grief had only once fallen in his sight and now you were feeling them fall down your cheeks right in front of him all because he was finally sending you on your way.

Stupid. You’re so stupid. It was only ever temporary and he’d made it so clear he didn’t want anything from you. He was just doing a sad, lost person a momentary favor but you’d lost sight of that completely after these last couple days. The way he had kissed you…the way you know it would’ve gone further yesterday if there hadn’t been an interruption…but none of it means a thing in the wake of his words.

He’s looking at you now. Of course this would be the moment he finally decides to turn those beautiful eyes back on you - you can feel the weight of his gaze on your face and you want it to be dark and lustful like before but when you look over at him he’s frowning. You sniffle and clear your throat, and finally give him an answer.

“I- I want to go home” You say so sadly and his brow knits in confusion for a moment before he understands.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Joel sounds more judgemental than he probably means to. He’s still watching you, but he never addresses the tears that are silently falling from your sad eyes.

You shake your head and sigh. Chewing on the last of the jerky for a bit and it makes you feel sick. His gaze burns you now, like it’s melting through the cold of him ignoring you all day and scorching at your flesh. Why won’t he stop staring? Why suddenly is he so intent on giving you all this attention? Does he just pity you that much?

He’s still eating slowly when you lie down on your sleeping bag, staring up at the trees and the night sky just above them. You’d spent nights like this watching the stars before - your heart pangs at the memory and you feel bile rise up in your throat for a moment before you screw your eyes shut tight enough to see the dance of colourful light behind your lids.

“Do you remember what it’s like to be happy?” Your voice is a whisper, it shakes as you shove that memory back down.

You open your eyes and turn your head in time to see Joel's sudden pained look and the shake of his head. You can feel the misery around him like it’s an aura. That only makes your heart hurt more. Damn it, why does he have to make you feel more? It’s always those eyes; he can make himself as hard and distant as he wants but his beautiful brown eyes betray him every single time

“Yeah. Well, I do. I remember. I remember living” If it wasn’t clear you were crying before it’s obvious you are now, you sniffle and wipe tears that race from the corners of your eyes into your hair.

Joel remains quiet for a while after that. Perhaps he just doesn’t know what to say, or perhaps he’s trying not to comfort you. The trees above the two of you wave gently in a breeze that rushes quietly through the forest, and the stars above them shine like they always have - unchanged by the death of this world and the screaming of your souls. Between you and Joel there is a blanket of grief and despair and both of you seem to be wrapping yourselves tighter in it at every turn.

Eventually he clears his throat and there’s a slight shift in Joel’s body, angling more towards you. It makes you bolder - like before - and you reach your hand between your two sleeping bags. Just lay it there between the two of you.

“I don’t want to remember, Joel. Not right now. I just want to feel something else” 

He rubs his watering eyes and sighs deeply. He is wavering, you can tell. He’s holding back but there’s the twitch of his hands as he looks at you lying there and he slowly reaches out - rough, calloused and warm hand encompassing yours slowly. He lets out a long breath.

“It’s not gonna help. I- I’m not gonna help you like you need. Nothing’s that simple. I should know…”

“You’re scared”

“Maybe” Joel shrugs. 

His hand holds yours a little tighter. You’re still crying silent tears that glisten on your face in the starlight.

“Don’t you feel alone? Don’t you just feel so fucking alone all the time? Why do we have to feel alone, when we’re here together?” You’re actually pleading now. It’s pathetic really but you just need the incessant heartache to stop for even a moment.

Joel hums low and gives you a long stare. His eyes soften more. There’s a shred more sympathy than there has been and it’s enough for your body to ignite with that burning hope just like last time.

“Fuck” He mutters, and then “Come here” and he is letting go of your hand and laying on his side on the sleeping bag, it seems reluctant but he’s inviting you to him and you’re almost embarrassed when you move in a heartbeat and close that gap between you and him.

Your breath catches when you lie beside him on your side and his body curls around yours, his arm over you and he holds your hand again. He’s warm like a comforting blanket - it feels almost like he’s protecting you the way he holds you close. It’s the closest you’ve ever been; even when he’d kissed you, when he’d touched you he’d kept a distance. You had never gotten to feel all of his body against you like this. Only in your hopeless dreaming. His breath tickles on the back of your neck and the warmth of it lingers, his heart beating steady where his chest presses against your back. He lets out a nearly silent sigh that makes you think he’s feeling the same thing as you. 

You are not alone.

For a while it’s nothing, and Joel starts to think you’re sleeping. Your breathing is steady just like his and those sweet little sighs could just be the slumber taking hold. You don’t move and he’s so afraid to make even the slightest change to the position lest he starts you on that downward spiral again.

He knows it’s a mistake. Such a big mistake to let you feel close to him. It is only going to make everything worse in the long run but your words ring so true in his mind - he has been so damn alone. Ever since…for too long. He’s been alone. You draw him in like a magnet; a strange and shameful comfort that he’s denied himself all these years.

Maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll just be this, nothing more and nothing less. No guilt. No attachment. Maybe you’ll leave willingly and he’ll never once think about this moment again and neither will you. Maybe. 

He murmurs your name softly and buries his face against your neck. He just wants to feel. Something. It’s wrong. He’s leading you on. But he wants to escape his loneliness just as much as you want to escape your pain.

He hears the smallest moan escape you like a breath and it makes him tighten his arm around you a little, because it brings him back to what happened before. How he’d touched you, how he’d felt you. There’s a stirring in him at the memory. You both feel it.

Joel knows you’re not asleep now, your breathing is less steady and your hand squeezes his a little.

“Don’t let me feel alone” You murmur and fuck Joel wants to let that base part of himself take control all over again.

He hesitates but only for a second. 

“I won’t”

And then he’s turning your head, and he’s kissing you.

There’s a moment of guilt that rises from your chest slowly, but it’s gone again the moment your lips meet his.

It's not like the first kiss. It's not even like the kisses in the kitchen when he'd pressed you up against the fridge and touched you. It's not like any kiss you've ever felt; it's urgent and desperate but not forceful or rough - there's a subtle tenderness behind it like he's really genuinely trying to give you that feeling of togetherness you crave so much.

It makes your mind go blank after a moment, when you feel his tongue and he’s asking for a permission which you grant without a moment of hesitation. It makes you forget where you are, who you are, what you've been through. 

He's good at that. Making you forget.

He's good at it all.

He kisses you harder when you open your mouth to him and it turns from tender to intense. It becomes more. More and more of him and you and it's what you've thought about all day. Like he really wants you. You're still on your side with your head turned and him over you, your back pressed against his chest and his subtle shift of hips against your ass makes your breath hitch. 

Oh, he wants you. And you want him. 

And what else matters?

“Joel…” you whimper. Sickly sweet and full of urgency. 

“Yeah, I know,” He says. 

There’s something else there, something you don’t want to hear. Something he doesn’t want to share. He shakes it away in a moment of a blink. He’s well versed in brushing away those moments. You need to learn it from him.

“I know” He says again, and he kisses you once more. Your lips lock in a moment that fans the flames that have been burning all this time; these weeks the two of you have been traveling together, these moments you have been sharing that are more than just moments. He stokes the coals of your desire with his mouth on yours and then down, down. To your cheek, your jaw, he’s over you and pressing you on to your back half on the cold ground as his lips meet your neck and you keen in some kind of desperation to be alight with his touch again.

Your hands traverse the broad expanse of his chest, clinging to the rough fabric of his shirt as he kisses the spot right under your ear that makes your soul leave you for a moment.

“You won’t stop this time?” You ponder, looking for a promise

“No”.

Simple, straight. Joel. He needs it. You know it’s been a while, you can tell by the way his hot mouth latches on to your soft flesh as he ruts against you like he’s already chasing a release he’s waited too long for.

“Doesn’t mean anythin’, right?”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” you repeat. 

He means it. Do you?

“Fuck” He groans, deep and guttural when your wandering hands reach lower. It’s all so urgent. There’s no moment for softness. It’s lustful and intentional and greedy. Teeth and nails and need. No moment to waste as your nimble fingers find the opening of his faded jeans and make their way inside.

He’s still exploring with demanding grunts of appreciation at the taste of your skin. He’d liked it before. He likes it more now, after the long day of toil. You’re intoxicating in all the ways he never knew how to resist.

You think he feels the same as you. It’s been so long. You can’t remember the last time you felt such intimate touch, before Joel. It’s more addicting now than it ever was back then as his fingertips dance with burning brushes against the skin under your shirt.

There are no memories. No pain. No distant threat. No trees. No breeze. No stars. Just him and you in this blank space you have created for yourselves - outside of time and reality. It is a kiss that takes away life, that takes away loneliness. His touch breathes hope into you that you’d only ever felt with…no. It’s just him and you and nothing else.

Just that.

Your fingers trace down, past where buttons are undone and the zipper is open. You touch him, a slight squeeze that makes his breath hitch so damn gorgeously you feel it in your core.

He’s big. God, he’s big and he’s hard and it’s for you. It’s for you.

He breathes out and grits his teeth as you feel him, he has to stop kissing you for a moment as you ease his pants down and free his hardened length from its confines. He’s not gonna tell you to stop. Neither of you are going to end this until it has to be ended, you know that when you look in his eyes and they are dazed with lust and desire that he’s been holding back for too long.

There’s no call for modesty here in this darkened patch of forest floor where the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and your panting breaths. He watches you with a knitted brow trying so goddamn hard to hold on to at least a bit of himself when you lewdly spit into your hand and wrap it around his thick length.

“Shit” Joel grits his teeth, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. He murmurs your name. It’s never sounded as good as it does when spoken by him like that. Your hand moves, thumb swiping his leaking tip to smear on him. He feels good in your hand, heavy and smooth and he’s already shaking.

“I…sweetheart, I can’t…”

“Yeah, you can” You shush him with your lips against his, oddly soft and caring in this moment of heady lust.

“No I mean it’s…fuck” Joel pants out, his voice a gruff whisper that tickles your skin and makes you clench “Haven’t had- I can’t fu-” words tumble from his lips to the side of your neck as he devolves into mumbles you can’t quite make out. He trembles and bites back a loud groan, before spilling warm and sticky onto your fingers.

“Sorry” He murmurs with heavy breath and it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world from this man who has been pushing you away for what feels like eternity.

Ah, you make sense of the words now.

“Haven’t had anyone touch you in a while?” You say, biting your lip as you look at him - he takes your breath away as the moonlight catches on the glint of his eyes, the trickle of sweat down his brow. His eyes are big and brown and there’s an apology in them that you don’t need.

“It’s okay. It’s okay” You assure with a soft smile. You kiss him, a sweet peck on the lips which he returns with another. It feels almost too intimate and you know you’re falling to somewhere you can’t crawl out of.

For a beat there’s a silence; Joel zips his fly and is catching his breath after his release whilst you drag your lips from his and down to his chin then his jaw. Drowning in the scent and taste of him. He is like nothing you’ve ever known and you want to be devoured by his presence.

You’re making do with wiping your hand off on your trousers when he moves you, pressing you down on to your back fully. There’s a hunger in him. He is starved and he craves. You shiver at that; he can slip from one moment to another like a changeling. His demeanour seems to shift with the wind.

“Gonna make it up to you, darlin’” He whispers with a dark desire as he goes back to kissing your neck and his hand moves down your body and to the button of your pants. Your mind flashes back to before - the way he’d made you shake back in the house - and your cunt throbs with need for that again. For him to take away your mind and your breath and your sanity if he wants.

You need him in ways you cannot fathom.

“Oh god”  You moan as he cups you through your underwear, mouth still attacking the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. 

You’re ready to feel that way again. And you’re about to beg him not to tease you when he pulls his hand away and detaches from your neck.

“Joel” the whine is so needy you should be embarrassed but you’re not capable of feeling that at the moment.

He shushes you softly and finishes unfastening your jeans, as he kneels between your legs. And then he’s taking them off; your jeans and underwear pulled down to your ankles and off, tossed to the side. He’s a man on a mission, and he licks his lips as he nudges your legs apart further and looks down at you.

Fuck. You might come from the sight alone. God…is he going to…

Joels calloused hands slide up your thighs and to your lower stomach and he settles himself right between your spread legs. You can’t look at him down there like that.

“This okay?” He asks, holding on to your thigh with one large hand while the other slips up under your shirt to palm at your warm skin.

You have to let out a huffed laugh at that. It’s definitely okay. It’s more than okay.

“Mhm” You answer, lips pressed together and you look up at the stars instead of the beautiful man currently kissing your inner thigh. Before he had wanted nothing to do with you and now he seems to want everything with you, you’d have whiplash if your brain wasn’t slowly melting out of your ear at the feel of his lips dragging higher.

He’s taking it so. So slow. Palming your breast now and kissing the other thigh You’re going to combust and be left nothing but a pile of embers if he keeps this up. You need so deeply that it hurts.

You card your fingers through his hair. It’s surprisingly soft and the sensation adds to the tension in you. He grunts as you give a little tug, but you think he gets the message without you having to use your words, your words probably wouldn’t make sense in this moment.

“Oh!” you gasp. 

Yes, he proves that he got the message loud and clear as he’s parting you with his tongue and licking a stripe that ends at your clit and makes your eyes roll back. He’s good.

He tastes you and moans deep at it. His tongue swipes again against your clit and your grip in his hair tightens a bit again but he doesn’t seem to mind or even notice as he explores and delves deeper. He swirls against your entrance, and then presses in for a moment and you’re going to lose it completely.

The noise of your whines and whimpers increase, a muffled cry against your hand as he moves up again and sucks against your clit with a softness which quickly becomes much more fervent when you respond well. You buck your hips against his face, so he holds one strong arm across you as he continues to alternate between using his tongue and his mouth to bring you closer.

Your mind is all but scrambled with the way you feel. You haven’t had anything like this in so long and he’s fulfilling needs you had almost forgotten you had. He’s not just giving you pleasure, he’s giving you back something you thought you’d lost. He’s making you feel on fire in every way possible; burning skin on burning skin, scorching heat between your legs and deep in your belly.

You're winding, tightening, as he continues. He delves a thick finger in to you and then another as he focuses his mouth on your sensitive bud, listening to the sounds of your heavy breath and knowing he’s doing right.

“Joel…Joel you’re…yes, like that…” You moan too loud, Joel grunts against you with a light slap to the thigh. Keep it down. Even now he’s aware, does he ever really let himself go fully?

Right, you’re out in the open. It feels like you’re in a world of just you and him…you have to try and keep some kind of sanity as he makes you see the stars behind your lids. It’s almost impossible, biting your lip to try and quiet yourself.

It’s…it’s incredible. The way his tongue moves. The crook of his fingers inside you. The pressure in you when he purses his lips around your clit. Your body is too hot, alive, more alive than you’ve felt in weeks. Too alive, all at once.

“Oh god…I’m…it’s….please…” babbles of incoherence which earn you a pinch to your skin, but he doesn’t let up on his ministrations. He doesn’t give you a chance to calm down.

Suddenly, your body ignites as the tight coil in your stomach snaps and it’s like there’s no yesterday, no tomorrow. You writhe, hips bucking, Joel holding you down and continuing until the very last moment of your orgasm. You’ve come before, of course, even if not with a partner in a while you’ve known this feeling many times and yet it’s like something you’ve never fully had before. He’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Fuck, your eyes are shut tight as you ride out the waves. Little aftershocks that make your body shiver. You can feel him - a final kiss to your clit, another to your inner right thigh and then he’s raising up, moving away from you and you can hear him catching his own breath like he nearly drowned in you.

“Jesus” You groan, limp and a mess. He breathes out a quiet, pleased laugh and you finally open your eyes and try to adjust them to see his face again. 

He’s looking at you. He’s all lines and splotches and coloured lights but he’s looking at you with something like a smile. 

Everything is blurred.

The lines are blurred. What does it mean? What does that soft kiss he places against your lips now actually mean? You feel sluggish from the climax but somehow your mind is racing still despite it. The lines are so damn blurred and it’s going to make you crazy, it’s going to make you lose it all.

“Alright?” He asks softly as he helps you put on your underwear and jeans again. Where did all his uncaring gruffness go? When will it come back and how will you live when it does?

“y-yeah…I think…yeah” You mutter dumbly. “Joel, I-”

Whatever you were going to say is cut off. He lays beside you again, arm going right around you pulling you flush against his chest. Your heart won't stop racing.

“You still feel alone?” Joel whispers in a deep grumble against your ear. You can feel it come from his chest. You shudder helplessly.

You shake your head. There’s a feeling of exhaustion from the day's movement settling in and you succumb to it swiftly, resting your head down on him and letting your breathing match to his. Letting him take you over completely.

No, you’re not lonely.

This fate is worse than loneliness.

[knockoff-conlon]

jamie pushes her hair away from her face. it's always messy, she can't control it. not that she wants to. it's always concealed by her hat anyway. she's sat at a red light, bike between her legs. she's gotta get to sirius' flat, sirius wants her to meet her younger sister. so she's biking across town. it's warm out, good day for biking.

the light switches and she starts biking again, flying down the street and watching all the cars go by. she doesn't see the girl she nearly crashes into. "watch it!" the girl shouts, flipping them off. jamie brakes and swings around to look at her. bloody hell, is she pretty. she's got a long white skirt and oversized band tee. sirius has one exactly like that. their hair's curly and hangs loosely to their shoulders, held back by headphones. their tote bag has the words 'i didn't really fall. i just sauntered vaguely downwards' printed on it. so pretty.

"sorry!" she yells over. "sorry, i didn't see you!"

"are you blind?" the stranger snaps. they're heading the same way. jamie just smiles at their yelling, feeling a warm blush on their face. "why are you smiling?"

"i smile a lot."

"right. and you're smiling when i'm yelling at you because-"

"yell at me more."

"bloody psychotic," the stranger passes them, walking up ahead. jamie starts biking beside them. "following me, are you?"

"well, i'm going the same way as you. sorry for nearly killing you. what's your name?"

"as if i'd tell the strange girl who just nearly killed me."

"i'm jamie."

"potter?"

"yeah! that's my last name! how'd you know?"

"i'm regina."

"you're sirius' sister?"

"yes."

"oh my god. you're pretty."

"excuse me?"

"sirius said they're prettier than you. i don't think that's true." regina purses her lips. "well, regina-"

"reggie."

"hm?"

"call me reggie."

[compressedrage]

*barges in* Your Hollow Head Siblings hc's, hand 'em over!!!! 🔫

(But fr, gotta love your thoughs, they're neat and scratch my brain juuuust right!!!)

YOU HAVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES MY ANONYMOUS FRIEND

Keep in mind I am very tired rn so this will likely be very unpolished okay here we go–

The order of age goes Victim Chosen Dark Orange, we all know this, but I think for a long time Dark thought he and Chosen were a lot closer in age than they actually were. Chosen had to warm up to telling Dark about all the horrible things he went through, and that included the fact that he was alone for four years. (it's four years right? it might be five. I can't be bothered to look it up rn, its fine)

In between the Showdown and Wanted Orange is starting to think of Chosen as an older brother. He connected the dots to figure out that Chosen was also made by Alan and he saved them! He's so cool! This idea was only a little bit shattered when this older brother figure barged into the PC and kidnapped him and promptly got them both captured. But honestly what are older siblings for.

In canon Chosen does not let himself feel emotions enough for him to see Orange as a little brother, but the connection is there. He'll come around :)

SPEAKING OF CONNECTIONS– I recently had this idea that the Hollowheads had some sort of empathy-telepathy with each other. For example, one normal day out in the Outernet Chosen feels the exact moment Orange was created. He doesn't know what that feeling meant, and he never felt it again. Orange felt drawn to this new stick figure who saved their lives, and immediately follows him through the portal. Chosen felt something snap in his chest the moment Dark died. Orange and Victim lock eyes for a moment in the Box and feel something click. None of them talk about it, but it's there.

(that last one might qualify as an AU, who knows maybe I'll do something with it)

This one is more of a wish than a headcanon– Chosen takes Orange under his wing at some point, teaching him how to use his powers as best he can. However, since Orange's powers are rather different from Chosen's, it just results in a chaotic sparring session and setting a field on fire. The CG are not amused by the amount of bruises Orange gets, but Orange is having an absolute blast.

Orange is Chosen's "Second Coming"– surely that comes with consequences. I saw a hc where they shared portions of code and I liked that; something like Orange and Chosen have similar tastes in foods. Their eyes shine the same way when they smile. Sometimes they accidentally speak in unison because they each had the exact same thought. When stuff gets serious, they both narrow their eyes and make an expression that promises pain on their enemies.

Dark would be the best big brother and let me tell you why. Orange is often left with the Braincell of the CG. Have you seen how stressed this boy gets. He gets premonitions of his friends getting hurt. Dark allows him to mess around a bit more, in a "We might get in trouble, isn't that fun!!" kind of way. Orange has always had a chaotic streak, it just takes certain circumstances for him to tap into it. They would be able to get Red back for his pranking.

Orange would teach Chosen and Dark all about modern video games. They know video games, sure, they destroyed Angry Birds. But I think playing Minecraft would solve both of their problems. At least a lot of them.

I don't have many headcanons for Victim, I just haven't seen enough of him to get a solid enough foundation to make headcanons, but as an oldest child I can relate to him on a spiritual level. He may be gray now but with those three as younger siblings he's gonna get a whole lot grayer.

Gosh I love them so much, a house with all four Hollowheads would be the most chaotic house ever. Victim– the eldest with an actual job, no nonsense, the less-than-respected Holder of the Braincell. Since he is out of the house a lot because of Job, the responsibility falls to Chosen– older middle child, delinquent, failure of a cook and the only one Dark will listen to. Speaking of Dark– younger middle child, Chaos Incarnate, fellow delinquent and Escape Artist Extraordinaire, he is a terrible influence on the youngest– Orange. Orange is the black sheep of the family in that he is actually rather emotionally stable. He's in school, has friends, hobbies– his brothers just a bit jealous but supportive anyway. He also helps Dark prank the others; he's got great aim with water balloon catapults.

I cannot impress upon you enough how much they love each other. Their lives have been filled with isolation, suffering, rejection– but now they've found family in likewise people. None of them are alone anymore. Sure, Orange wasn't really alone to begin with, but surely he noticed how different he was from RYGB. He's not replacing them, not for a million dollars, but it is nice to have brothers who are similar to you.