#fireworks keeping me up late | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ackermans-posts · 2 years ago

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𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓾𝓷

feat: bf!satoru x reader

contents: public sex, exhibition kink, daddy, dirty talk, tit play, riding, horny reader, multiple orgasms,cream pie, breeding, slapping, goofy, ferris wheel, late night, blowjob, oral

“satoru! let’s go on the ferris wheel,” you giggle, pulling his sleeve in your direction, “haven’t been on one of these in forever!”

satoru can never deny you, grinning from ear to ear as he follows you. looking down at your skirt, he tells himself it’s not because of how your ass bounces with every hop you take; he tells himself it’s because he likes Ferris wheels too. somehow you know he’s staring at you, thinking naughty things. your pussy flutters at the thought.

“can you pay, baby?” you ask with a smile, turning to face him with the cutest pout you could muster. he tsks, laughing to himself before giving a small smack to your ass. “killin my wallet, hun,” he murmurs, handing the worker the cash for the ride. not even seconds later you’re climbing on the little ride and pulling him in with you, waiting till you’re at the top before speaking.

“you enjoying today’s date so far, huh sweetie? you must be, considering I’ve spent over $100 already,” he hums, the tone sounds harsh but you know he’s kidding around, he couldn’t care less about the money if it means makin his girl happy.

“mhm, daddy,” you prop yourself on his lap, hands hugging around his neck, “been so good, the view is wonderful,” you tease, staring directly at his lips. satoru leans in, brushing his against yours, lightly ; just teasing. your legs squeeze against his.

“you sure?” he grins against your lips, “nothing’s missing?”

you smile, drinking his face up with your eyes, “jus- just one thing,” you whisper, movin your clothed pussy against his thigh lightly, “jus’ been so so horny since we got here,” you whine, giving his faces small kisses.

“yeah?” he lilts, “you can hold off till we get home, can’t you?”

“you’re supposed to take care of me, daddy”

satoru sucks in a breath, feeling your legs squeezing against his. he takes a quick look out of the window and groans, “the shit you make me do,” then he’s grabbing your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout and his mouth is on yours. you giggle against him, moving your tongue along his as he tries to pull you closer. your little gasps fuel satoru on more and more, loving when he lifts your tiny skirt up, kneading your ass.

you feel wetness sliding down your pussy, n you can’t help but keep kissing him. the feeling of his tongue gliding over his lips turns you feral, “shit-,” satoru laughs, trying to keep up with your mouth, “so fuckin hot,”

his hands squeeze at your ass one more time before he’s hissing in annoyance, toying at your pink fucking panties. he’s breaking the kiss, leaning towards your ear.

“I’m’ gonna rip these fuckin things off, baby” he whispers, leaving harsh kisses on your neck and chest. you feel yourself hump your pussy on his leg again, wanting his mouth back on yours.

“oh god,” you whine, “m’ gonna cum”

satoru grins, he cannot stop himself from chuckling. he pulls down your top, letting your tits run free. “yeah, baby? how? i haven’t done anything to you yet,” his mouth sucks on your nipple, teasing and pulling.

“gimme a kiss, baby,” he teases, smiling at how eager you are to listen. you almost leap at the opportunity, lips smashing on his as you whimper, reaching to toy with your nipples as he takes control of your mouth. one last moan and he doesn’t miss how you’re shaking, grinding that lil pussy on him like your life depends on it.

“ya just came, hm?” he laughs, noticing a big wet spot on his jeans. he smiles at your cute little nod, loving how you already look out of it. he’s about to speak when the Ferris wheel cart suddenly stops, and a loud intercom fills your ear.

“Hello! I thank everyone for coming to this lovely spring carnival! As a little treat, please look out your windows as we pause this ride to release some fireworks. Thank you, and do not be alarmed— the ride will resume once they are done.”

“please, satoru,” you gasp, “wan’ you to fuck me so so bad before we get off,” he winces, growing noticeably harder and harder at your cute begging. you bury your face in his neck, sucking and leaving little kisses, doin your best to hurry him up.

“shhhh, baby,” he hushes you, trying to calm you down as he grabs onto your hips, “I’m gonna take good care of ya, pussies gonna be well fed when I’m done wit her,” his hands toy with your skirt for a little before peelin off your panties.

“lift your hips for me, love” he mumbles, finally ridding yourselves from that barrier. satoru exhales, fingers soaking themselves as he dips through your folds. you gasp, holding onto his neck as he starts to circle around your clit.

“ah— satoru,” you cry, trying to ignore the hard pounding in your core as he dips a finger inside you. he grins, inching it inside and out before adding a second finger.

“so fuckin wet,” he grins, “shit, don’t even needa prep you as much,” his fingers slide out to rub against your mouth, spreading your juices against your tongue. satoru’s dick grows incredibly hard under you, almost popping out of his zipper.

“you want it so bad? ya’ gotta work for it,” he coos, “be a good girl n’ get on your knees for me,”

you whine, but don’t want to wait to figure out what’ll happen if you don’t listen. you slide off him with a pout, your tits bouncing with the movement as you end up on your knees, face rubbing against his leg. satoru’s eyes are glued on you, fuck the fireworks. he can’t look anywhere else. he rubs the bulge on his jeans, head falling back with a groan at the feeling.

“ah shit,” he groans, grabbing your hair with one fist, “take my cock outta these jeans for me,”

your core flutters with the command, and your eyes don’t differ, they stay directed at him as you hastily unzip his pants, pullin them down to his legs before you do the same to his boxers. you could cum, just by watching how his dick pops out, smacking against his abdomen. precum’s already slippin out, n your mind goes fuzzy with the need to taste him.

“good fuckin girl,” he gives his dick a few strokes, eyes rollin back while he stares at your tits. he’s not gonna fuckin last so he has to make the most of this. “spit on it, baby, go ahead.. spit,” he murmurs, almost spilling himself on your face right then and there when you oblige, drool seeping from your lips onto him.

you’re honestly dazed. nothing’s registering through your mind, your boyfriends cock only thing you can think of, only wanting him inside of you, breeding you, pounding into you so fuckin hard in this cart that someone starts to question it. you must be so fuckin lost that satoru’s words weren’t even reaching your brain.

“are you listening to me, baby?” he murmurs, giving a little slap to your face that finally knocks you out of your dream. “am I gon have to stop all this? cus my girl isn’t listening?” he threatens, his strong hand gripping your cheeks together.

you panic, of course you don’t want him to stop! “no, no m’ sorry daddy, m’ listening,” you plead, staring up into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“you gon listen to daddy? I said stick your tongue out… yeah, fuck, jus like that… keep it out while I tap my cock against your lil tongue,” he groans, mumbling intelligible words as he slaps his tip against your tongue before sliding his whole length inside. you can’t help but gag, throat constricting against him. he doesn’t let up, gripping your hair as he fucks his cock into your mouth straight away.

“hollow your cheeks out… just like I taught you,” he murmurs, dick sliding even deeper, feelin your nose hit the base of his cock each time, “yeah, fuck jus like that”

drool seeps from your mouth into his balls. you do your best to keep going, but eventually satoru notices your quick shortness of breaths before finally giving you a little break. he pulls his cock out of your mouth, givn you time to cough and heave.

“cmon, you can handle a little more for daddy, right?” tears pool from your eyes but you nod, grabbin the base of him to give his tip little sucks and kitten licks. you’ll do anything for him, he admires. he has to pull you away before the tightness of his balls becomes too much. he needs to finish inside of you tonight.

“god, please! want you inside of me, satoru,” you cry, wiping the incoming tears from your eyes. the need to being full is pulling at your insides.

“aww, don’t cry baby, you’re gonna get it real soon,” he coos, wipin your tears away along with the drool on your chin. “jus’ gotta work for it okay? cmon, hop on daddies lap.”

you sniffle, standing up to climb over him. “lift your hips again, yeah.. good girl,” his cock slides up and down your cunt, spreading the wetness over his tip. you gasp, and can’t help but sit all the way down on it. satoru curses, groaning loud as he grips your hips tightly.

“oh, fuck. bad fuckin girl,” he hisses, feeling your walls squeeze against him so tight, even he has to take a second to compose himself. you’re crying, knowing you took him all way too fast without taking time to adjust to the pain.

“oh, fuck! daddy it hurts.. hurts so bad,” you whine, sitting all the way down at the base of his cock, being careful not to move. “shh, I know, I’ll make it all better soon,” he says, thumb immediately reaching down to rub at your clit. you moan, grabbing into his shoulders. some pain immediately reduces to pleasure, n you’re still left a sobbing mess.

“more more, oh god,” your loud whimpers fill the cart, your own fingers toying with your nipple as satoru continues rubbing at your puffy little bud.

satoru grins, givin your lips a little peck. “feel better? yeah?” you nod at him, mouth gaping in pleasure.

“good girl. bounce up and down on my cock, alright? I know it hurts, do it to make daddy happy,” he commands, and you’re doin your best to listen. you start with a slow roll of your hips, moaning as your clit rubs over his abdomen.

just then, the loud intercom starts again.

“Good evening! Thank you for your patience and I hope you all enjoyed the view. The ride will start up again in 5 minutes, thank you.”

your eyes widen, that’s not enough time for you both.

“satoru, what do we do,” you whine, still rolling your hips against his cock.

“guess ya gotta hurry up, hun. don’t care if it hurts, m’ gonna fuck you myself if you don’t start bouncin,” he hisses, feelin your tight pussy squeeze the life out of him.

panic races through your veins as you lift up just until the tip is in before sliding all the way back down. you know you’re being loud, but you could not care anymore. light pain fills you but you keep going, sliding up and down until you’re seeing stars. the sound of your ass smacking over his hips is the only thing registering between you.

“oh fuckk, doing so fucking good,” satoru groans, staring at your tits rolling up and down between each bounce. his eyes roll back as you finally find your pace. “you fuckin feel that? your pussies squeezing me so damn tight,”

his hips start meeting you halfway, increasing the pace and intensity way more than before. you feel out of it. In the best way possible. the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot every thrust sends you away, more and more moans pouring out of your throat. you can’t help, you cum right away.

“oh fuck, you cummin for me? cumming on my cock like a little slut— oh shit,” he groans, thrusts growing sloppy and careless. “reach down and play with your pussy,” he hisses, moaning alongside with you as your pussy contracts around him. cream coats his cock, makin sure his pace doesn’t let up.

“m’ gonna fuckin cum inside you, fill your pussy up until you can’t hold anymore.. fuck fuck,” he leans forward to suckle your tit in his mouth, loving how you’re still trying to bounce on his cock.

“I-I can’t anymore! satoru please, s’ too much,” you cry, pussy feeling overstimulated with how much his cock keeps hitting your g-spot over and over again. you feel as if you’re gonna cum once more with the pressure.

“you can, baby. fuck, I feel you tightening up again, you gonna cum with me?” another hard thrust follows by another through his constant mumbling, and it’s his finger pressing on your clit that sends you to paradise again. you squeeze around him, a loud wail comin from you as you release.

“good girl, gonna cum inside this tight little pussy- shit shit-,” one last sloppy thrust has him releasing his load in you. thick ropes of cum filling your womb has you trembling over his frame. his name the only thing coming from mind fucked brain. satoru’s groan fills the air as he at last stills his hips, letting go of the last drops of cum. he chuckles, laying his head back as you fall alongside him, his cock still nestled in your pussy.

“can’t believe you made me fuck you inside a ferris wheel,”

“feel so much better now, daddy,” you smile against his neck, all content and happy.

satoru laughs before looking out the window.

“shit, hurry up and put all your clothes on. we’re almost at the bottom.”

#jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jjk satoru #satoru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk gojo #saturo gojo #anime smut #jjk imagines #smut

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headkiss · 1 year ago

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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musingsofahufflepuff · 9 months ago

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Just a Glimpse of Us

ex!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader, Theodore Nott x gn!reader; angst

summary: after a particularly rough break up with mattheo, theodore is there to pick up the pieces. he’s the perfect boyfriend in theory, so why do you wish it was your ex instead?

a/n: while the reader is currently dating theo, this isn’t really about him (sorry bby ily). our focus today is matt. he’s a bit of a dick for the majority and says a couple of insensitive things. the happy ending won, so here it is, happy valentine’s day ♡

Only 2 weeks after your relationship ending fight with Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott asked you out. You said yes.

It had taken you a week longer than it had for Mattheo.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had said yes. The pessimist in you said it was only because you were hurt. The optimist in you meekly thought different.

Theodore was attractive and surprisingly gentle with you. In the days following the break up, he frequently sought you out in the nooks of the castle you started to escape to. The times when you couldn’t keep yourself together, he held you as you broke down in tears and didn’t let go until the pain subsided. His chest was warm and sturdy and safe. The scent of smoke lingered on him hauntingly similar to the way it hung to Mattheo, permeating his clothes and your soul.

He was there by your side when you stumbled on a Ravenclaw girl practically chewing Mattheo’s face off out in the hall in front of god and everyone, 3 days post breakup. Part of you knew he wanted you to see.

A piece of you died that day.

The following weekend party ended with you in Theodore’s bed. Maybe you wanted Matt to walk in his dorm and see you with one of his best friends. Maybe you wanted him to feel the same festering wound you had been living with since he had stormed out of your life.

He never did come back that night.

A week after Mattheo broke your heart a second time, Theodore found you sitting in the astronomy tower, knees to your chest, staring at the view of the valley. He sat next to you, arm easing its way across your shoulders as you leaned into him. He had seemed nervous, so unlike his usual stoic and relaxed demeanor.

“Would you want to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me tesorino?”

The pessimist in you was right.

♡ ♡ ♡

That was a month ago. A month of dating Theodore Nott. You were less sad at least. Or maybe you were just more numb.

Despite sitting at the Slytherin table with Theodore and your friends, you weren’t really present. You were vaguely aware of his hand resting on your side and the unintelligible chattering filling in the background noise of aimless thoughts. Your eyes were facing the rest of the Great Hall, but you were looking through it. You used to sit here with all the same people but Mattheo always used to be here too. You hadn’t seen him during meals or class lately. He would sling his arm around your waist during meals like this. Theodore’s touch burns.

Before your mind can drift off too far as to what he could possibly be up to recently, the doors to the great hall open with a thud.

It takes a few blinks to get your eyes to focus back and when they do, you’re greeted to a bored looking Mattheo, arm loosely resting on—what appears to be a Hufflepuff—girl’s shoulder.

Theodore’s grip on you tightens and a kiss is pressed to your temple. Matt’s eyes rake over to where you’re sat and you can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. As quickly as he looked your way, he directs his attention elsewhere.

“You okay tesorino? You got tense,” Theodore speaks softly above your ear.

With an exhale you smile up at him, “I’m okay Teddy.” He’s looking at you like you placed the moon in the sky for his enjoyment and it reminds you of brown eyes that had once looked at you the same way.

Pushing the thought from your mind, you press a firm kiss on his lips- searching for butterflies or fireworks or something when he returns the motion.

You find none.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Nott? Really sweetheart? You can do better than that.”

Mattheo’s voice stabs through you, making you involuntarily jerk to a halt. It had been so long since you’d heard his voice. You try to regain your breath before turning to face him. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, cocky smile on his face. You had forgotten how arrogant he could be, used to his sweet smiles and soft eyes reserved only for you. You desperately longed for it. That Matt was long gone, just a whisper you were still hopelessly trying to grasp onto.

He raises an eyebrow when you make no attempt to respond, seemingly expecting a snarky remark. He takes a couple strides toward you. He baits you again, “I guess I can see why you hang around him, he follows you around like a pathetic dog.” You bite.

“At least I’m not a manwhore who jumps in the first skirt offered to him,” the calm in your tone surprises you, your entire soul feels like it could shatter any moment. “What do you want Riddle?”

Something flashes across Matt’s face for the briefest of moments. So subtle only you would have noticed it.

Before he can respond Theodore is by your side, “why don’t you say that shit to my face next time.”

“And here’s the guard dog now. Have to say, didn’t expect my best mate to lap up my sloppy seconds.”

Tears sting in your eyes at his unexpected cruelty. Then the sound of a fist cracking bone is making you jump. You cover your mouth with your hands as blood starts pouring out of Mattheo’s nose. A crowd has started to form around the three of you and you’re grabbing Theodore’s arm that’s getting ready to take another swing.

Matt’s face is hard to read. He doesn’t immediately react to his apparently broken nose nor the blood staining his uniform. Instead his eyes are locked on you.

You force your voice to work, “c’mon Teddy, it’s not worth it.”

He snaps his head towards you in bewilderment. “Tesorino you heard what he just said about you, right?” Your heart aches at his concern only for you, your gaze shifting to meet Mattheo. The same aching heart reminds you he would have done the same for you once upon a time.

Those pretty brown eyes convince you that you don’t want to see his face anymore beaten than it already was.

“Please Teddy, let’s just go.” You look up at Theodore’s face and tug on his arm.

He relaxes his stance and gives you a nod, letting you lead him away. You do your best to not look back at Mattheo.

However you can’t help the quick glance over your shoulder; seeing Matt looking at you, ironically, like a kicked puppy.

You cry yourself to sleep that night, locked in Theodore’s suffocating embrace.

♡ ♡ ♡

Monday night finds you back in the astronomy tower, cigarette in your fingers. You had swiped it from Theodore’s stash before classes this morning. It wasn’t the same brand Matt used. Knowing Nott, it was probably higher quality.

You turn the stick in your hand, blinking back tears. Thoughts of your time up here with Matt swirl around your head, making it hard to breathe.

There at the top of the tower surrounded by the cool night, you break.

It happens all at once. No build up, just a shatter. Sobs rack through your body and an animalistic cry of pure pain and despair forces its way out of you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Mattheo pushes himself off the leather couch he sat on in the common room. Enzo looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and flashes it at the boy, “need a smoke, wanna come with?”

He gets a small head shake no in response before he turns to leave the dungeons.

The walk up to the astronomy tower is familiar and would be comforting in different circumstances. As he starts climbing up the stairs he hears broken sobs echo through the tower. He hesitates thinking it might be best to leave the person alone, but his concern wins out and he treks onward. To say he’s shocked when he sees it’s you is an understatement. Heart rate picking up at the thought of you being hurt, he makes his way over.

At the sound of his footsteps, in between sobs you choke out, “please leave Theo, I want to be alone.”

“I’m not Theo, sorry to disappoint,” the words are slightly joking but his tone is gentle.

You lift your head up to look at him, eyes red and tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart aches. He settles himself down next to you, giving you space.

You sit together in silence for a few moments, his mere presence wrapping itself around you like a childhood blanket, tattered and long lost. You feel some semblance of peace for the first time in months.

“I’m sorry,” he ducks his head down, shame overtaking him. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

He tilts his head to look at you, eyebrows knitting together. He almost looks like he could cry. “You’re not my sloppy seconds and Theo isn’t a dog, I just-“ he goes back to avoiding your eyes and blinks a couple times, a tear rolling down his cheek. You reach out and gently wipe it away with your thumb. It has the unintended consequence of making more tears start to fall.

“I was angry and hurt and I guess the only way I know how to express that is by hurting everyone around me.” Your soul shouts at you to reach out for him, but you hold back.

“I think about you all the time,” he’s curled in on himself in the way you’ve only ever seen him do when he talks about his home life. “I miss you so much.”

His eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to stop crying, fingers digging into his biceps. You know him too well, can read his actions like you were reading his mind.

You pull him into your arms.

It’s easy to tell you made the right decision when he instantly relaxes in your embrace, instinctively pushing his head against your chest like he had done so many times before. His voice comes out quieter when he says, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, lord knows I wouldn’t.”

A small smile works its way onto your face as you speak to him for the first time since the fight in the hallway, “you’ve always been the type to hold a grudge. And I know you’d never admit it, but it’s because you care.”

“I’m sorry for kissing that girl, I don’t even know her name. I thought it would fill the hole in me, but it didn’t. Then I saw you with Theo at the party and—“ his voice cracks. You tighten your grip, a hand coming up to run through his curls.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, “I told Theo that I couldn’t keep seeing him today. I felt like I was using him, cause he’s not you.”

Matt pulls himself out of your embrace to cup your face in his hands, dark eyes swimming with unshed tears and that gentle look he used to give you. The one where you could see the longing, the raw need for your touch and love and approval and very essence of your being. It was vulnerable and gave away just how deeply sorry he was for hurting you.

You were drawn to him as you had always been, a planet orbiting a sun that gave off such warmth and fiery passion but could also burn magnitudes of pain that was near incomprehensible.

“I can’t fix the damage I’ve done, but I want to spend my life making it up to you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make amends with Theo. Please, let me be part of your life again.”

“Matty, I want to, but I don’t want to feel like that again. It was hell,” your voice catches on the last part, a stray tear escaping. Gentle lips are pressed on your cheek where the tear was.

“I will never make you feel that way again. And I give you full permission to use an unforgivable if I don’t keep my promise. Fuck, I’ll take an unbreakable vow if that’s what you want, love.”

You can’t hold back anymore, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that rivals the most beautiful sunsets, warmth rushing over you. This is what home feels like.

#mattheo riddle #theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x male reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x male reader #theo nott #slytherin boys #harry potter #angst #angst with a happy ending

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miupow · 8 months ago

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five kisses ⭑𓂃 c. beomgyu

𝄞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈⭒♬ ﾟ. choi beomgyu x gn!reader ✧˖° five types of kisses from the love of your life.

GENRE ── fluff

WARNINGS ── est. relationship, kisses, toothrotting fluff, silly cuddly boyfie gyu

WORDS ── 1.1k

A/N ── happy late comeback day!! it took me way longer to finish this than i wanted to cos i could not for the life of me find the motivation to write it TT but finally it’s here! it’s short but it’s my longest fluff work so far… hoping to write longer fluff works in the future

you’ve kissed choi beomgyu more times than you could ever hope to count. each one a single shining star that made up the constellations of your relationship, the galaxy that was your love; your days and nights were peppered with his kisses just as often as they were by his jokes and his banter, by his hand on your waist; they were something so beautifully interwoven into your everyday life that it was hard to keep track.

while you couldn’t remember every one, you would always remember their types– beomgyu gave you five different kisses out of all of the hundreds and thousands that you’ve shared.

absently to the back of your cradled hand when you weren’t paying attention.

beomgyu always insisted that he hold your hand on movie nights, no matter how far you may end up seated away from him– that night you had sat in front of him cross-legged on the floor, letting all of the boys take the couch while you rested your back against his legs, and even then did beomgyu kept your fingers laced together. he ignored your complaints about having to bend your arm up behind your back with an evil little smile.

“that can’t be comfortable.” soobin laughed, tearing his eyes away from the tv screen only to hand yeonjun a bag of chips. you can hear beomgyu’s quiet snicker somewhere above your head.

“it’s not!” you whined, failing to hide your smile behind a pout. “my arm is falling asleep!”

“we can switch places, if you want.” hueningkai added gently, squished between the armrest and soobin’s broad frame– unlike him, you would probably fit just fine, comfortably even.

but that was when you felt it; beomgyu lifted your intertwined hands to his face, the skin of your fingers tingling as his plush lips ghosted your knuckles, and as gently and ardently as he possibly could pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. you gave hueningkai a polite, sideways smile.

“actually, i think i’m just fine here.”

so passionate you can hardly breathe, hardly even think.

“i love you,” beomgyu whispered, exalted like a prayer; you’ve never heard him sound like that before. his big brown puppy-dog eyes take up your vision, blinking, swimming with overwhelming emotion, framed by pretty long eyelashes; they sparkled like the brightest of stars even in the dark. you opened your mouth to respond, surprised and euphoric, but his pouty bottom lip wobbling with nerves knocked any scattered thought from your head.

So you kissed him instead.

you were used to first kisses being awkward, uncoordinated, but beomgyu kissed you back like your lips were the only one’s he’d ever known; you gasped softly against his lips and he drank it in like ambrosia, tilted your face to deepen the kiss as he cupped your cheeks in his shaking hands. it was perfect, indescribable, gentler than you had expected beomgyu to be. not like fireworks or explosions, but simply his lips on yours, and a slow caressing warmth that left you unable to focus on anything other than his touch, his taste.

you hadn’t known what to do with your hands, and it didn’t come to you until you both pulled away for air that you had been digging your nails into his sweater-clad shoulders. he didn’t seem to mind much.

“i love you,” beomgyu repeated, his words dancing across your lips in his hot, panting breaths. “can we do that again?”

softly and sweetly and exchanged in dimly lit doorsteps, a goodbye, a promise.

he’s running late, but you can’t let go. not when you have him in your arms like this, pretty face illuminated by the streetlights as you kiss him goodbye. “stay?” you whispered against his lips, just short of begging. beomgyu chuckled and shook his head, the best he can with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“you know i can’t.”

“just for the night…” you argued half-heartedly, but you already knew you had lost. “they certainly won’t miss you for just one night.”

“baby…” beomgyu sighed, shushing you with his hands caressing down your back and his chin resting on the crown of your head. you begged like this every night, but it never got any easier for him to say no. “i have to go.”

“when will you be back?”

“so soon you won’t even have time to miss me.”

“but i already miss you.”

“ya, you’ll be fine.” beomgyu tutted, pressing a heartbreakingly gentle kiss to your forehead. his smile is infectious, even with your sour mood.

“one last kiss? please?” you pout, your fingers tangled in the hairs at the base of his neck. beomgyu’s eyes crinkle into sweet, shimmery half-moon cresents.

“of course.”

as a surprise, a sudden declaration of love and mischief.

you could never let your guard down around him— in a good way, of course.

you sat on the couch engrossed in your phone, mind consumed with endless scrolling; beomgyu had been caught up playing a video game on his console, headphones on and controller in hand as he cursed at the monitor, and you were simply trying to pass the time he came back to the land of the living. but then it was you who was the one disconnected from the real world, as you hadn’t even noticed that beomgyu had placed his controller down and had gotten up out of his seat.

there’s nothing your boyfriend hates more than being ignored, despite how much he loved to ignore you in favor for his games— you gasp when a hand comes around the back of the couch to snatch your phone out of your hands, and you turn your head sharply to admonish your attacker… just for beomgyu to land an obnoxious wet kiss to your lips, giggling and grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream.

“beomgyu!” you whined petulantly as your boyfriend continued to smatter kisses across your cheeks. “i was watching something!”

“don’t care.” beomgyu snickered, tossing your phone to the side. “i’m done with my game; pay attention to me!”

against your forehead when you fall asleep, a wish goodnight as he takes in your beauty.

you had gotten into the habit of pretending to be asleep when you weren’t, just so you could experience these moments. cuddled up tight in beomgyu’s warm embrace, your head cradled against his chest, his chest rising and falling in tandem with his heartbeat.

beomgyu’s hands smooth down your arms and back, grounding you and lulling you into the sweetest sense of calm; you’ve never felt safer than right there in his arms.

finally beomgyu does it, something he does every night when he’s certain you’ve nodded off; slowly and carefully he presses his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, rests there as you try your hardest not to smile. “goodnight baby,” he whispers, barely audible, his breath hot against your skin. “i love you.”

#ɱเµρσω𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ౨ৎ #k-labels #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu fluff #[ 🌹 ] : sfw #[txt] : beomie

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pascalispretty · 11 months ago

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Old Holiday, New Traditions

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: cowgirl sex, unsafe sex, Joel mouthing off during sex, established relationship

Summary: Safe in Jackson, Joel celebrates his first New Year's Eve in decades. (ao3).

Notes: My Secret Santa gift for @bluebeary-jay! Merry Christmas! My thanks as always to @misscharlielulu for her support.

Joel had never been one for a big celebration on New Year’s Eve. There had been a few parties with Sarah’s mother when he was younger. Later, he rang in the New Year with Sarah – sitting her on his shoulders to watch fireworks, or moving clocks forward to feign the moment of midnight for her.

After Sarah, he’d had no desire to celebrate. It was just another marker of time, the yawning gulf opening up in his life between her past and his present.

All the New Year meant to him was another year without his baby girl.

Yet somehow, between their arrival in Jackson in the spring and the approaching winter, Ellie had gotten him to look forward to it. She spoke excitedly of the party held in Jackson to kick off the new year. It involved weeks of preparation, and almost everybody in town pitching in to help. Slowly, the promise of the New Year was no longer something he dreaded.

And then there was you. You, who’d been in Jackson for longer and filled Ellie’s head with stories of New Year’s celebrations past. You, who’d somehow worked your way into Joel’s bed, and then his heart. He’s hard pressed to explain how you – bright, tender you, who still got upset when your neighbours’ cat left small carcasses on your doorstep – had taken to him so quickly.

Between you and Ellie, you convince him to attend his first New Year’s Eve in decades.

****

It’s late by the time the two of you head back to Joel’s place. It’s almost one in the morning, but the party in the Tipsy Bison isn’t showing much sign of slowing down. You’d left Ellie giggling in a corner with Cat, the two of them no doubt thrilled to have pulled one over on Joel about being ‘just friends’.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way home, your hand tucked into the crook of Joel’s elbow. The sound of the party carries far down the street, almost every resident of Jackson still inside. Only those on patrol, and those too sick to get out of bed, would miss it. It’s a celebration of surviving and thriving for another year.

“Make any resolutions this year?” You ask Joel teasingly. The air is cold enough to make your breath mist, and you shiver despite your warm clothes.

“Yeah. Stop lettin’ you ‘n Ellie talk me into stuff,” he huffs.

“Oh come on. You had a good time.” You had caught him smiling at one point, watching Ellie dance with some of the other teenagers.

“Wasn’t terrible,” he says eventually. “Ellie looked like she had a real good time.”

“Yeah, she did,” you agree. “All the other kids seem to really like her.” Cat in particular, though you don’t say that aloud. It had been sweet to watch the two tiptoe around one another with all the hallmarks of an adolescent crush.

“It’s good for her. Bein’ around people her own age, bein’ able to have friends.”

“I still can’t believe Dina managed to get her to dance.” A smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s mouth again. His smiles aren’t frequent, but it’s a huge change from the intimidating, scowling man who had first arrived in Jackson over a year ago. Slowly but surely, you think Jackson is becoming his home.

In just the same way, his home is becoming yours. You’re spending fewer nights at the house you share with Dina and Rebecca. Ellie no longer reacts with any surprise when she finds you having breakfast at her kitchen table. You even keep a change of clothes tucked in the bottom of Joel’s dresser. You’d never ask Joel to put a label on whatever you are, but you’re not sure you need him to. As if to prove your point, he doesn’t even ask if you’re coming home with him; he just carries on walking right past the turn that leads to your house.

The noise of the party has long faded by the time you get to Joel and Ellie’s house; your boots crunching through the snow is the only sound you can hear. You and Joel stomp your feet to shake off the loose snow, and unlace your boots standing right next to the front door so you can step inside in your socks. Joel had imposed the rule about not tracking snow inside after Ellie had gone flying on the wooden floor left slick by snowmelt, and you’d both readily agreed. Joel takes your boots with him, doubtless to put them with his in the kitchen to dry off as you start taking off your many layers.

In just your jeans and a tee shirt, you make your way upstairs to Joel’s bedroom. The heat is on; it doesn’t take long for the warmth to come back to your feet and fingers. Turning into Joel’s room, you don’t turn on the main light. Instead, you light the candle on the bedside table, casting the room in a soft golden glow.

The candle lit, you move over to the record player in the corner. There’s a vinyl already waiting, so you simply switch it on and lower the needle. Soft, Spanish guitar fills the room. You’re flicking through the crate full of records when Joel’s strong arms loop around your middle. You can’t help smiling to yourself, resting your hand on his as he kisses the side of your head.

“Music, candles, you got me drunk…you tryin’ to seduce me darlin’?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Tommy was the one who got you drunk,” you remind him. Joel grunts in acknowledgement, squeezing you a little tighter.

“My mind ain’t on Tommy right now.” He turns you in his arms, those dark eyes of his unfathomable as he looks down at you. “I’m more concerned with how I can thank my girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you. It’s a soft kiss, barely more than a peck. It’s still enough to send the first sparks running through your veins. Joel brings one of his hands up to cup your jaw, his large palm warm against your skin.

“You looked pretty when you were dancing, baby,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek. A derisive snort escapes you.

“I looked like an idiot.” Dina had pulled you in to dance, some variation on a jig that had both of you collapsing into breathless giggles by the end.

“You looked happy.” Joel kisses you again, a little deeper this time. The simple statement fills you with a different kind of warmth, and you make a contented sound against his full lips. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to get as close to him as you can. He holds you tight, and not for the first time you’re struck by the contrast in his sheer strength, and the gentleness with which he handles you.

The hand at your waist creeps below the hem of your shirt, sliding up to cup the weight of your breast. Even over your bra, his touch makes you shudder.

“Off,” he huffs impatiently, breaking the kiss to pull your tee shirt up and over your head. You start in on the buttons of his flannel shirt, doing your best to concentrate as Joel brushes your hair back over your shoulder and starts kissing your neck. His stubble prickles at your delicate skin and his lips immediately kiss away the sting.

The heat of arousal floods through your body, your fingers skittering over the small buttons. It takes you longer than it should to get the navy shirt off him, followed swiftly by the soft grey tee shirt he had on underneath. You can feel his cock starting to stiffen against your belly, and it only adds to the tingling sensation under your skin as your nerve endings set alight.

Joel steers you both back towards the bed, the two of you shedding your remaining clothes as quickly as you can. He settles himself into bed, leaning back against the headboard as he helps you into his lap. You sigh softly as you settle on his thighs, one of your hands curling around the wood of the headboard and the other finding Joel’s shoulder.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Joel murmurs, his hands warm on your hips. He pulls you closer so your hips are flush with his. His cock, hot and hard, bumps against your middle, trapped between your bodies. He crushes you close in a deep kiss, tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours. One of his hands slides up to caress your breasts again, touching you with increasing impatience.

When you break apart, he leaves you gasping for air. Precome smears across your belly as you press closer to him. It’s not enough. You feel uncomfortably slick and devastatingly empty; you let out a soft, longing sound.

“Need you,” you whine, your fingertips skating over his stomach to grasp his cock. The weight of it in your hand makes you shiver. Joel uses his grip on your hips to encourage you up, rising up on your knees enough to be able to notch the broad head of his cock against your entrance. A hiss escapes through Joel’s teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He exhales a gasp into the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin. He bites into the soft skin as you start to sink down on him. You inhale the scent of his hair, the soft curls tickling your face as he trails kisses and nips down your skin.

“That’s it,” he mumbles against your throat. “That’s it, good girl, take it just like that…” His hands help you move. As wet as you are, he’s so much that you can’t take him all in one go. You have to sink down slowly, impaling yourself with gradual flicks of your hips. Every thick inch of him strains your muscles, but the feeling of fullness is glorious.

“Oh, fuck, Joel-” you manage, breathless. He makes a hushing sound, smoothing one hand down the line of your spine. It’s meant to be a soothing gesture, but it only serves to wind you up even more, your nerves fraying at his touch. He flexes his hips, somehow driving himself in even deeper, and you whimper into his hair.

Joel coils one strong arm around your waist, his nose pressing against the hinge of your jaw. He lets you catch your breath. When you give your first, halting twist of your hips, he stutters an inhale, the fingers on your hip tightening.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, his voice tight with need. “Ride me, go on.” He starts to move with you, meeting every slow stroke of your hips. Every pass of his cock stokes the fire in your belly higher. You cling to him, needing to be as close as physically possible. The room feels suddenly stifling, your world shrunk down to just your bodies on Joel’s bed.

Your pace had started slow, but Joel is beginning to move with growing insistence. The hand on your hip presses between your bodies. When his searching fingertips find your clit, you drop your head back like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It opens you up more to Joel, giving him easier access to the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex.

“Need you to come,” he grunts, his thumb stroking across your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.” With every thrust of his hips, he works his thumb across your clit, setting you alight from within and without. Every shift and touch pulls you closer towards the edge. He mouths at your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you writhe on his lap.

You start to move a little faster, chasing the high of your climax. Joel matches your pace, the obscene sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

“Like that, that’s it, sweetheart,” he croons. “Good girl, baby, take what you need…”

“Joel,” you whine. “Joel, Joel, Joel-” You say it like a prayer, chanting it over and over.

It’s not long before he sends you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you barely manage to hold yourself upright. The tension that’s been coiling in your belly snaps, sending molten fire pouring through your body. You feel him covering your face with kisses, the sensation of it far away somehow as you come back to yourself slowly.

His thumb keeps stroking circles around your clit, dragging out your climax. It threatens to push you into oversensitivity, and you whimper pathetically. Your cunt clenches around his length, the muscles unsure whether they want to pull him in deeper or push him out. The fluttering of your walls must get him there; before your brain can catch up to what’s happening, he’s pulled out of you.

It only takes a few desperate strokes of his hand before he’s coming all over your stomach. You feel ruinously empty, your primal need for Joel not helped by the ragged groan he lets out as he comes. He sits back against the headboard, and you watch the rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Sorry baby,” he mutters, his thumb catching a pearlescent bead of come before it can drip down onto your cunt. He reaches for the stack of rags he keeps in his bedside table for this purpose, carefully wiping away his spend. You’re too tired to wash properly; instead, you simply let yourself fall onto the bed beside him.

Joel presses a kiss to your forehead before rolling over to blow out the candle. Taking advantage of the movement, you curl up behind him, spooning him. For once, he doesn’t grumble and protest and claim he doesn’t like it. He just rests his hand atop yours, and lets you snuggle closer.

You look down to see if he needs help as he draws the blankets over you both, and you notice the window for the first time since you came home.

At some point while you were having sex, it started snowing. It’s coming down thick, the world outside the window only visible in shades of white and grey. Tomorrow, everything will look fresh and new, the perfect start to a new year.

“Joel?” You whisper softly.

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you agreed to come.” You rest your head against his back. It takes him a long moment to reply, and you almost wonder if he’s fallen asleep on you.

“I’m glad I went. It was my first good New Year’s in decades,” he says eventually. You snuggle closer, his back warm against your cheek.

“Happy New Year, Joel.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse @irishavengersassemble

#joel miller x reader #space sisters secret santa 2023 #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller

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avaf00rd · 3 months ago

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Fireworks?

Leah Williamson x reader

gif @lwwife

“Mumma when can we see the fireworks?” Your 4 year old daughter Lila asked Leah, who was holding her

“The fireworks aren’t for a few hours sweets. But I promise I will take you to the fireworks, we will go extra early just for you” your wife replied

“Really?” Your daughter piped up, looking at you brightly for confirmation

“We promise” you said.

Most people remember that one thing they were completely obsessed with as a toddler. And for your own daughter it was fireworks. The Disney firework display was pretty much the only reason you booked the day at Disneyland on your short trip to America with Leah’s family.

“Mummy when is Uncle Jacob and Grandma coming?” Your daughter asked, who was now in your arms. As the three of you waited in the line for the dumbo ride

“Very soon” you nodded

“It will be before fireworks start right?”

“Yes Lila I promise it will be before the fireworks” you smiled at her. You and Leah had learnt that you always had to make promises with Lila about basically anything, otherwise she refuses to believe you

“She knows it’s not even mid day right?” Leah asked you, humorously rolling her eyes at her daughter

You had made it to the front of the line and the ride before you had finished just as you were let in. “Just for three please” Leah had told the worker at the front as she pointed to your elephant

Leah got in first so she could grab Lila from your arms before you got in. Once your daughter was strapped in between the two of you, she was swinging her legs in excitement

“Excited Lila?” Your wife asked, sharing a smile of awe with you when Lila clapped her hands and squealed.

An hour later your brother in Law and your Mother in Law both joined your little family for the rest of the day. You, Leah and Amanda were buying bottles of water for everyone and had left Lila with Jacob. When they came back your daughter was seen still on his shoulders, but with a rather large bright pink slurpee in her possession.

“Jacob Williamson” you scowled with your arms folded

“When she looks down at me with that little pout I can’t say no” he said in defense

“Mumma fireworks?” Leah was asked by your daughter in the moment. Leah letting out a soft laugh

“Not just yet, keep hanging in there” Leah laughed with Amanda, ruffling up Lila’s hair.

Later, Leah had somehow convinced you to go on the scariest ride at the park with her. And it was too late to back out.

“C’mon baby it’s not that scary when you are on it” Leah said holding your hand as you two waited in line. You had left Lila with Jacob and Amanda to go do something else, as Leah was obsessed with Amusement park rides and you both couldn’t take her on these rides. Lila insisted on watching her mum’s on the ride form the bottom.

“Mummy is going to hate this” Lila giggled to her grandma.

“I think you might be right” Amanda laughed with her as they watched Leah reassure you over and over again that it’s not that bad, a fearful look on your face.

As you both got into your seats and the safety bar was lowered you started to panic. “No no no I can’t do this” you squeezed your eyes shut as you kicked your legs back and forth stressing

“Yes you can, yes you can” Leah reassured you, squeezing your hand three times. Like she always did, signalling ‘I love you’

“No Leah I don’t want to I don’t want to” you whined, heart picking up as it started to move

The ride would rock around and go upside down you had learnt from watching it before you got on. You were far from as excited as your wife

“C’mon I’ve got you. I’m so excited!” Leah squealed. Exactly like her daughter

You screamed in Leah’s ear the whole ride, cussing too many times to count and never letting go of the tight grip you had on her hand. At one point you did look over at her and saw her laughing like nothing else, making you enjoy it more

“The ground!” You exclaimed as your feet touched the ground after the ride once the bar was lifted from both of your bodies. Feeling shaky in the knees before gripping onto your wife’s shoulder for support

“You did it!” Leah high-fived you excitedly.

“I did it!” You said proud, surprised you had dipped into your fear of rides and heights

“Mummy you did amazing!” Lila also said once you had reached her and her grandma outside the gate. Arms spread out for you so you could grab her

“Thank you honey” you said kissing her cheek

“But can we see fireworks now?”

“We have to wait until it’s dark. Which is very soon. Should we get some dinner now?” You asked her to keep her mind off of her awaited fireworks

“Mhm” she nodded before resting her head on your shoulder as you all walked to find food.

10:28

“Mumma how much longer?” Lila asked Leah. She sat in her lap as the two of them faced the castle which the fireworks would come from

“Two minutes baby” Leah said checking her phone

“Yay!” Lila said, too loud, making other people around you chuckle slightly at her adorable excitement

Before you knew it the speakers introduced the count down for the firework display and your daughter absolutely screamed when it was done and the first fireworks were set off. Getting excited as they were frozen themed at the start, with her favourite soundtrack playing on the speakers

You got videos of your daughter singing alone with Leah, both of them shrieking with excitement when a new song they both loved would play.

For most of it, you and your wife both would just stare at your tiny human as she watched the fireworks with such awe. The smile it brought to her face, and the toddler squeal when an extra loud firework would go off.

“You happy baby?” You asked Lila over the noise

“Yes mummy” She nodded and gave you a peck on your lips, you immediately locking eyes with Leah, a loving pout on your lips from your daughter’s sweetness.

“And are you happy baby?” Leah asked you

“More than happy” you said before finally locking lips with her amongst the golden fireworks, whilst ‘I see the light’ from Tangled played in the background.

You were living a movie every day with your little family.

#leah williamson #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso #arsenal women

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beenbaanbuun · 2 months ago

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stars w/ choi jongho

a lake in a forest is where you lie, the soft sand of the shore acting as your mattress, your boyfriend’s chest your pillow. the icy water laps tentatively as your toes, keeping you from slipping into a slumber from which you’re unsure that you’ll ever want to wake. why would you wish to go back to real life when falling asleep in your lovers arms is all you ever want to do?

his heart ticks away in his chest, pointlessly keeping the time like a grandfather clock in an abandoned house. you don’t need to know the time right now, the moon and the stars that hang high above your heads is enough to tell you that it’s late, and you should go inside. as you cast a glance up to jongho’s face, bathed in the silvery tendrils of the moon’s light, you couldn’t quite care less about what you should do. you want to stay here in this moment forever, and you’ll be damned if you let it slip from you so easily.

“i can feel you staring at me,” he hums, the hand that cups your head to his chest moving slightly to ruffle your hair. in any normal circumstance, you’d shove his hand away with a scoff, firing a snarky comment in his direction that would make his face light up in a pretty smile. the circumstances are anything but normal, though; you’d rather give up the sun than the feeling that currently spreads through your body like a wildfire.

“you’re just so beautiful,” your voice can barely be heard over the rustling of the leaves and the crackle of the sand beneath the soft swelling of the water. it’s almost like you’re afraid your voice will drown it all out, as if this is all a dream and talking too loud will wake you and pull you back to reality. silence is better than go back to your hectic life. you’d make this dream last forever if the universe would let you.

when he tilts his head in a way that lets him gaze upon you, you find the breath being stolen from your lungs. oh well, you tell yourself; it’s hard to care about something so insignificant as breathing when the most important thing in the world is looking upon you with the universe in his eyes. the stars in the sky have nothing on those endless pools of chocolate; they reflect the moonlight in a way that hypnotises you, and while you weren’t planning on looking away in the first place, now you feel certain that you can’t.

“i thought you wanted to stargaze,” his voice comes out in a playful purr, a small grin taking hold of his expression. you mirror it with a smile of your own, smaller and far gentler, but a smile nonetheless. it’s hard to keep it hidden when jongho’s joy is so infectious; with his gums peaking out from beneath his lip, his nose scrunched up so sweetly he looks… precious.

“you’re prettier than the stars,” you say. he hums in mock agreement and you realise that even his teasing is enough to make your body fill to the brim with fireworks. just the tiniest amount of attention from his is enough to make you feel like you’re falling in love over and over again, your heart tripping and stumbling each and every time he so much as looks in your direction. damn the butterflies, there’s a whole aviary inside of your stomach right now.

“if i’m prettier than the stars then you must be prettier than anything else the universe has to offer,” a careful finger brushes against your cheek bone, working its way up to your temple where it pushes a stray strand of hair to the side. your face scrunches up instinctively as it trails ticklishly against your skin to which jongho lets out a slight giggle. it harmonises with the sounds of the wilderness that surrounds you creating the perfect symphony. all music, past and future could only dream of sounding so perfect. “can i kiss you?” his smooth voice slotting right into that already perfect song, “i really want to kiss you right now.”

you nod; of course you do. all you ever want to do is kiss jongho. morning, afternoon, night, it’s all you ever think about. soft lips on yours, sturdy hands roaming your body, gentle tongue probing your mouth. from the moment he gave you a kiss for the first time, bending down as his hands tilted your head to the perfect angle, you spend all day dreaming of when another will come. whether it’s a chaste one before he heads to work in the morning, or a lazy one as he distracts you from whatever it is he’s burning on the stove. each of them is special and you want each of them infinitely.

and when he finally puts his lips to yours, everything seems to slot into place. you’re no longer worried about the real world; that doesn’t exist anymore. it’s just you and him and the stars as your only witness.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #jongho x reader #jongho fluff

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theorphicangel · 11 months ago

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#1 “you can stay as long as you want.” | miguel x reader

the boyfriend series with miguel o’hara. | series of fluff, angst and smut with bf! miguel.

cw: none, fluffy.

“I still don’t understand how, for the entire movie, he doesn’t catch on that she’s the killer?”

“I know right, it’s stupid.” Miguel hums a a re-run of a classic slasher movie played on the television in front of you.

It was a late Friday night, the both of you were too exhausted from the past week of work to head out for a proper date. So instead you and Miguel settled for a movie marathon at his apartment.

Empty boxes of your favorite takeaway lay disheveled on his coffee table in front of the couch, your stomach fully satisfied with the meal. It doesn’t take much to get your dopamine running, you think. Him and food was all you needed to get yourself happy.

“I think if this shit played out in real life, me and you would have caught onto her in no time.” You note, as the killer on the screen preys onto their next victim.

“Oh, one hundred percent, we’re a dream team.” Miguel stretches out his exhausted limbs, a silent yawn following from his mouth. And as he does so, an arm magically ends up around your shoulder, pulling you in closer to his body.

“Wow. Smooth O’hara, real smooth.”

He smirks. “I try my best, mi amor.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays on. Having watched the movie before, you know what’s to come as the rest of the film comes as a total cliche. You can’t help but let your mind wander. Simultaneously, your hands become restless, fingertips fiddling with each other.

“I should head home soon.” You announce, keeping your eyes on the screen ahead.

Miguel hums, his fingertips tracing circles on your arms ever so gently.

You should head home but you don’t really want to. The thought of getting up from this couch is a headache in itself and the thought of driving home at the hour with traffic and dealing with god-awful drivers makes you want to bury yourself into the earth. You really don’t want to head home, but you probably should.

Through the shadow of your expression, Miguel can read the exhaustion on your face. As well as you, he really doesn’t want you to leave. Not when the two of you are so comfortable like this.

“Hey.” Miguel whispers, causing you to turn your head to look at him. “You can stay as long as you want.” He says. “You know that right?”

Your heart swells immediately at his words, a spark of love set off in your body like a sudden firework.

“I know.” You smile before continuing. “But I probably shouldn’t, I have tons of work to catch up and briefs and—”

“But I want you to.”

Miguel doesn’t mean interrupt your work ethic but for the past week he’s been yearning to see you. It’s hard enough that you both have busy lifestyles, meaning that finding time to see each other is rare. Not to mention how far you live away from him. It’s moments like this, when you have to leave, that Miguel just wants to be totally selfish.

So that’s what he’s doing. Being selfish for once.

“If you’re sure.” you confirm.

“I’m always sure.”

You snort to yourself at his comment. “Then why’d you take fifteen minutes deciding what to order earlier?” You nudge your elbow into his side gently, teasing him further.

Miguel rolls his eyes, now more at ease to wrap his large arms around you. “You’re a little alborotadora, aren’t you?” [troublemaker]

“Maybe.” You respond with a playful tone, adding a kiss on his cheek. Your hand moves up to cup his cheek. The action is soft and tender, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. And you knew he was, especially when he let you into the most intricate parts of his soul. Something that he rarely gave people permission to do.

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

reblogs are much appreciated! thank you for reading and thank you for being here!

#angel writes #miguel o hara x reader #bf!miguel #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman astv #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara drabbles

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nehi-soda · 4 months ago

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Once More to See You - DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!

Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.

You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.

"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.

You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.

Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.

Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.

“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.

“Um… you…oka-.”

“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.

"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.

You tailed him into the kitchen.

He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.

"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.

“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.

“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.

“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”

Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.

Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.

Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.

“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.

The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.

You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.

Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.

“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.

Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"

"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.

"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.

"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.

"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”

“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."

Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.

"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."

Joel just stood there and took it.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.

You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.

Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.

"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"

"Joel, please...", you gasped.

Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.

The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."

“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.

"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."

"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”

"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”

“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.

He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl. You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.

"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.

Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."

You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"

He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”

"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”

Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.

You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.

You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.

The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.

You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.

Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?

Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.

But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.

A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.

"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”

"Please, just leave me alone."

“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”

How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?

divider credit to @kthice

*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #hbo joel miller #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou #tw dubcon #Joel miller

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megalony · 10 months ago

Text

Give Me a Reason

This is an Evan Buckley imagine with deaf! reader, based on an anon request I got sent in. I hope you all like it, feedback is always greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts

911 Masterlist

Summary: While Evan is at work and can't answer his phone, (Y/n) is home alone and suffers a miscarriage.

(Descriptions of miscarriage)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan ran a hand through his hair, loosening up the curls flopping around his temple and pushing them back on his head into a more tamed fashion. He scratched his nails against his temple as he slowly climbed back up the stairs towards the bedroom.

He walked into the room and made his way over to the bed, a softness burning in his eyes and a tepid smile forming on his lips when he reached the bed.

He went down on his knees in front of the bed and leaned his elbow down onto the mattress while his hand moved out towards (Y/n). He was gentle when he delicately brushed his index finger against her temple and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. His fingertips continued to graze against her temple and for a brief second, he pressed the back of his hand against her skin and his lips faded into a frown. She was flushed.

A small smile quirked his lips up from a frown when (Y/n)'s hand batted up and grabbed his to entwine their fingers together. She moved his hand down to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles that made fireworks explode through his blood and tingle up his arm.

He loved the way her lips moulded into a tired yet sickly sweet smile when her half-lidded eyes focused on him and she reeled his hand closer until he had no choice but to press his arm into her chest. She curled around his hand and arm like it was a comfort teddy and her nose brushed against his knuckles.

"Are you okay?" Evan kept his voice quiet as he moved to perch his chin on the end of the bed so they were level while his knees pressed into the bedframe to keep his balance and stop him falling backwards. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand when she nodded and tried to keep her eyes open so she could read his lips.

All (Y/n) wanted to do was stay bundled up under the covers and sleep the day away. And Evan wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and stay with her. He wanted to stay home and look after her and make sure she was actually okay, but he needed to go to work. He was only on a short shift today, a small twelve hour shirt rather than a twenty four hour one or a double shift which always killed him off.

If (Y/n) was unable to get out of bed or if she was throwing up continuously, Evan would have taken the day off to be home with her.

He had been extremely close to calling in sick yesterday but (Y/n) seemed to be more alive and alert last night. And she certainly looked better this morning than she had yesterday. She hadn't been sick since late last night and all she wanted to do was sleep. A day in bed was going to do her good and hopefully when Evan came home tonight, she would be feeling a lot better.

Neither of them were quite sure whether (Y/n) had some kind of sickness bug or if she was just struggling with morning sickness at random times during the day for the last three days. But either way, Evan was glad she seemed to be feeling a bit more like herself this morning and seemed a lot calmer than yesterday.

He reached across for the sick bowl near the end of the bed and held it up to show her before he put it down on the floor by his feet, whispering a quiet "Just in case." He wanted her to have it close by on the chance she did feel sick and couldn't make it down stairs quick enough.

"Will you be alright if I go to work?"

A lopsided smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips when she finally let go of Evan's hand and shuffled her arm from beneath the covers so her hands were hanging on the edge of the bed. She didn't have the energy to sit up when she was still half asleep and wanted to stay that way.

Her hands lazily moved in front of her and pressed into her chest before she pressed her index finger and thumb together with her other fingers held up straight.

I'm okay.

She then pressed her finger into Evan's chest, pointed over his shoulder, then curled her hands into fists. She held her left fist out straight and moved her right fist up in a circle before bringing her hand down to rest on top of her other wrist.

You go to work.

There was no need for Evan to use a sick day and stay home with her when she was going to be asleep most of the day. She could feel it already, her headache was finally going away and her stomach had settled back down. All she needed was a day in bed to recover and she would be back up and moving about again tomorrow.

(Y/n) reached her hands up to cup Evan's jaw when he leaned over the bed and stole a kiss from her lips. She could taste his morning coffee on his tongue and feel his lips quirking into a grin against her when he slid his hand beneath the cover and pressed his palm against her stomach. His fingers glided over her stomach that was only the tiniest bit rounded since she was only four and a half months so far.

His touch made her shiver and his cold hand sent her stomach jumping which only made Evan grin against her lips and bite down on her bottom lip that he sucked between his teeth when he pulled back.

When he pulled back, Evan held out his left palm and brushed his fingers up and down his palm while he spoke. "Text me if you need me." He would do his best to keep his phone on him today when he could so if (Y/n) felt worse or she needed him, he could try and answer her.

(Y/n) nodded and held her hand out, curling her middle and ring finger against her palm and held her hand out before she pointed at Evan.

"I love you too," He muttered against her lips while he copied her sign, pecking her lips again and again before he finally managed to tear himself away from her.

He wasn't even at work yet and he was ready for his shift to end.

***

I don't feel well. What should I do? X

Reaching out, (Y/n) threw her phone down beside her on the bed before her hands reached out for the sick bowl that was resting at the foot of the bed. her hands curled around the plastic rim and she held it in her lap, pressing it into her stomach as if it might do something to ease her discomfort.

Her eyes snapped closed and her shoulders hunched inwards as she leaned down and threw up into the bowl, groaning and choking on each breath she tried to grasp.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do with herself. She had felt much better when Evan left for work but now, late into the afternoon, she didn't know what to do. Her stomach was burning and aching like she was being stabbed, her headache was back with a vengeance so rough she could barely see properly. And she didn't have the strength to get up from bed and move around like she thought she would.

(Y/n) never rang the doctors to make an appointment for obvious reasons. Evan always rang for her and she never went to an appointment without him, the staff didn't know sign language and it was tiring and uncomfortable to have to write everything down in a notepad. With Evan by her side, (Y/n) could sign and he would relay her responses.

She was so used to reading her husband's lips that trying to lip read strangers was off putting. She knew each movement of his lips and each smile and the way his nose crinkled when he talked. Evan was her rock, her comfort and her communicator. She needed him.

He wasn't answering and part of (Y/n) chided herself for being so selfish. He was at work. His job was important and it was a hectic, busy job to do. He couldn't check his phone every five minutes in case she messaged and she couldn't call him.

When her stomach twisted, a cry burned at the back of her throat and she moved to bowl so she could coil her knees up to her stomach and see if contorting into a compressed shape would help.

It didn't.

Her hand curled around her phone in such a tight grip it indented into her palm and made her bones ache.

(Y/n) shuffled off the side of the bed and flopped down onto the carpet on her knees, snuffling through each breath as she used the bed as leverage to push herself up. She needed to go and sit in the bathroom in case she started to throw up again. Maybe she could get a bath and see if that would make her feel any better until Evan could message her back with some advice. And she needed to be downstairs where the bathroom and kitchen were and where all the medicine was.

Humiliation tore through (Y/n)'s every fibre when she got to the stairs and slumped down on her bum to shuffle down. She was glad Evan wasn't home to see her doing this. Her hand slid down the handrail as she itched herself down the stairs, sliding down each step which bumped against her lower back and made her stomach jolt each time.

Tears drenched (Y/n)'s face as she finally reached the floor and flopped onto her knees, leaning her weight into the wall as she crawled around the corner into the bathroom. She needed to do something. Whenever she was this sick all she did was lay down on the sofa in agony until Evan came home and held her. She didn't tolerate pain well.

She had never been so relieved to see the toilet in her life. (Y/n) coiled her knees up to her stomach, flopped her arms around the rim of the toilet and slumped her head over the basin just in time to throw up. Again.

Reaching her arm out, (Y/n) swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, grimacing when she realised how badly she was beginning to sweat.

Surely this wasn't good.

Terror pulsed through (Y/n)'s blood when a sudden onset of trembling burst out in her body. She shook back and forth against the toilet, unable to stop or steady herself as if invisible hands were on her shoulders, shaking the life out of her. Her eyes widened and rapidly looked herself over but her lips parted and wobbled, letting out a cry when something awful twisted in her stomach.

Why did it feel like someone had stabbed her?

Blood.

Blood was starting to smear across her inner thighs and when (Y/n) gingerly lifted Evan's shirt that she was wearing, she could see the substance dotted on the floor beneath her. This didn't look good.

Her trembling fingers reached out for her phone and she swiped her eyes furiously to try and clear her vision that was obscured by tears.

Something's wrong, I need help. Don't know what to do.

What was she supposed to do?

If she tried to do the 911 text service like Maddie had showed her, strangers were going to turn up in her home and take her away. Then how would she get to Evan? How would he find her in time? There weren't many paramedics out there who knew sign language and (Y/n) was not exchanging written notes with a medic without her husband with her. She couldn't lip read in this state, her mind was too unfocused for that.

(Y/n) didn't want strangers grabbing at her and taking her out of her home where she felt safe.

All she wanted was Evan.

Her lips quivered when she pushed her forehead onto the toilet so she could shimmy out of her underwear that was coated in blood. She threw it across the other side of the bathroom and reached out to tug the towel off the back of the bathroom door.

Oh no. No, no no. She was losing the baby. What had she done to deserve this?

(Y/n) wasn't sure if she started to scream or if she simply parted her lips and gasped. Her eyes snapped closed but the tears drenched her face anyway and she could feel her eyes slowly starting to swell from the thousands of tears she was beginning to shed.

Her arms coiled into her waist with her hands gripping her inner thighs, her back curled over and her head stayed pushing down on the toilet seat to try and steady herself and stop herself from collapsing.

She wanted this baby. Seeing Evan's face when she told him she was pregnant had been the best moment of her life. Evan was so good with kids and when (Y/n) saw him with a friend's baby in his arms, she knew it was a sight she wanted to get used to.

So why was she losing their baby?

Reaching out, (Y/n) curled her hand into a fist and slammed her knuckles as hard as she could into the side of the bath next to her. She didn't feel any pain when her knuckles burst through the plastic rim, splintering into the plastic that turned jagged and cut apart the back of her hand.

What had she done? Why did she deserve this?

Finally pulling herself up into a hunched, crouching position, (Y/n) pushed herself backwards away from the toilet. She slumped onto her bum and moved the towel between her legs, trying in vain to clean up the small puddle of blood gathering between her legs on the floor and the life she'd just lost.

She didn't have the energy. She left the towel scrunched up in front of the toilet and crawled to the other side of the bathroom near the sink.

Ragged breaths ran away from her and her chest burned as she began to hyperventilate.

Her red, sticky palms smothered against her mouth and nose causing her shallow breaths to wheeze and snuffle between her clasped fingers. She could feel the blood on her hands transferring onto her lips and the metalic taste made her gag. Her elbows pinned into either side of her waist and she began slowly rocking back and forth, bashing her back and shoulders into the wall every now and then as if the sensation would somehow help to calm her down.

The burning sensation ignited up in her stomach again when she moved her right leg and stretched it out across the floor, whimpering at the ache it caused. She wiggled her toes and kicked her phone across the floor until it was beside her.

Baby something's happened. Please come home!

(Y/n) placed her phone down beside her and moved to rub her palms furiously up and down her exposed thighs, creating burnt red streaks up and down her flesh. She could feel the blood sticking between her thighs and making her legs itch with each cramp that burned through her abdomen and her body was still shaking, but not as horribly as she had a few minutes ago.

She felt like she was beginning to overheat, despite the bathroom being very cold and only wearing Evan's cotton shirt. If she blacked out now and went to sleep for a little while, it might be a blessing in disguise.

What was she going to do? What kind of conversation was she going to have with Evan when he eventually came home? How was she going to explain to him that she had lost their baby while he'd been out at work?

Her mind was conflicted; somehow relieved that Evan wasn't here to witness this. His boysterous, puppy dog personality wouldn't do well experiencing something traumatic like this. But (Y/n)'s heart was crying out for him. She wanted his arms around her, his lips on her skin and the vibration of his chest against her skin when he started to whisper something into her hair that she would never be able to hear. She wanted to be wrapped up in his comforting embrace and pretend that this was all just a nightmare.

Even though she knew he would be heartbroken, conflicted and desperate to help her, she wanted him here. She wanted the affection and comfort Evan would make her feel.

With a shaky breath, (Y/n) pushed herself forward until her knees were imbedded in her stomach to try and compress the cramps to dull them down. She couldn't stop the cry from bubbling past her lips when she tried to move her hands but they weren't under her control from how badly she was trembling again.

(Y/n) let all the energy dwindle away from her body and with her last bit of effort, she flopped onto the tiled floor on her side. Her knees coiled up to her aching stomach, her arms bound around her chest and her hands pinned below her collar bone. She tilted her head down to bury her nose in the hem of her shirt and took a deep breath, inhaling Evan's scent like it was smelling salts to make her feel better.

She didn't care how cold the floor felt against her burning skin or the light chill in the air creeping through from the apartment. Even the bright light shining down upon her didn't bother (Y/n) anymore. With her eyes closed and her face buried in her shirt, she let her mind wander and welcomed the darkness with open arms.

***

Unbridled panic burned through Evan's body like a wild fire spreading from his fingertips down to his toes. He slammed the front door closed and shrugged off his jacket, looking back down at his phone that he hadn't put down since he jumed out the jeep.

"Oh, baby where are you?" He muttered quietly to himself as he looked ahead into the kitchen before he jogged round to the living room.

Her texts had frightened him.

The team had come from a two and a half hour call out of a two mile car pile up on the motorway. But when they got back to the station and Evan went to check his phone, he almost had a heart attack. He had eight messages from (Y/n) and each one sounded more panicked than the first and the last message she sent him an hour earlier made his knees buckle.

Something had happened. But she didn't say what happened, if she was okay and if it was some sort of emergency or not. All sorts of scenarios ran through Evan's mind until he was shaking and at the point of throwing up. He tried messaging her back. He spammed his wife with messages but she didn't answer any of them.

Bobby had graciously let Evan come home just less than an hour early. He didn't get a shower and change like he planned to when they got back to the station. His shift had almost ended and when he saw her messages, he climbed in his jeep and sped home.

She wasn't in the kitchen and she wasn't in the living room.

Evan moved to the stairs, about to head up into the bedroom because that was the first place he thought she would be. By looking at her this morning, he doubted she would have left their bed today other than to use the bathroom and get something to eat. But he didn't get up two steps before something caught his eye and his head turned to the left.

The light was on in the bathroom.

His body pivoted round and and he backtracked towards the bathroom on his right. Out of habit, Evan rapped his knuckles on the door. He knew (Y/n) wouldn't hear, but it was ingraned in Evan's mind to knock before entering any room, especially the bathroom. After too many close encounters walking in on Maddie in the bathroom whilst growing up.

"Baby, you okay?" Evan moved his hand round the door before his body and pressed his index finger and thumb together to sign his question as he moved inside the room. "Oh God no!"

Evan couldn't breathe. His lungs shrivelled up in his chest, adrenaline burst through his stomach and flooded through his blood that tingled in his chest and left his hands numb and useless in front of him.

His feet tripped over a towel that was scrunched up on the floor, caked in blood that was long-dried and as dark as black paint peeling and crackling into pieces. Streaks of blood were smeared on the toilet seat and scratched across the floor in lines both big and small but he hated the sight he saw when he followed the blood markings.

(Y/n). His girl, his wife, curled up on her left side in a ball with her arms and knees cocooned to her stomach. But what caught his attention wasn't the way she was lightly shaking back and forth against the floor. It wasn't the slight movement of her hands scratching against her chest to show she was somewhat conscious.

It was the blood caked between her thighs and forming a puddle beneath her waist.

Evan crashed down on his knees in front of her and shrugged off his jacket, dumping it somewhere behind him on the floor before he reached his hands out for her. He cupped her delicate yet frozen face in his hands and forcefully pressed his thumbs in deep strokes beneath her eyes against her cheekbones to try and stimulate her. His fingers pressed into the side of her neck and he pushed down to feel her low pulse while his trembling hands tilted her head back and forth which helped to try and liven her up.

"Come on baby… look at me, sweet girl."

All Evan could see, hear and feel was panic. His blood pumping through his veins and pounding in his ears, panic personified. He could feel his pulse beating beneath his skin to the beat of panic and he could only see in tunnel vision, zooming in on his wife's face to check for any kind of reaction from her.

Evan did another sweep around the bathroom but his lips crinkled in distaste at what he was seeing. All he could focus on was the blood. Partially dried on the floor, caked, smeared and cracked around the toilet and dried into the towel that was crumpled and stiff like it had been frozen over with frost. He didn't like the look of the puddle forming between his wife's thighs. It was spreading out and if he moved forward an inch, his knees would smear into the sticky substance he had seen far too much of in his line of work.

He jolted forward in panic and breathed out in relief when he suddenly felt (Y/n)'s hand weakly bat around until her fingers curled over his wrist.

"There we go baby," He mumbled quietly, his lips twitching up when he saw her eyes moving behind her eyelids showing she was trying to bring herself back around.

Curling one hand around, Evan cupped the back of her neck and slid his right arm down to curve beneath her back. He held her against his chest and kissed the top of her head while he carefully reeled her up and let her weight fall into his chest. He held her against him and moved around until he was knelt behind her with his back wedged up against the wall so (Y/n) could slump back against his chest.

His right arm stayed wrapped around (Y/n)'s waist to stop her from sliding back down on the floor and his left arm curved around her chest. He cupped her face again and smoothed his thumb over her jaw while his head leaned against her cheek so he could peer over her shoulder and make sure she was coming back round.

He didn't like the groan that bubbled past her lips and when (Y/n) tried to tilt her head and hide her face in his neck, Evan clicked his tongue and pinched her chin. He moved her head back so she was still leaning on his shoulder but facing forwards. He had to have her eyes open and looking ahead so he could sign to her. Hiding in his neck wasn't going to help them communicate or do either of them any good.

Evan leaned forward a little more so he could look down at her and he moved his hand to gently lift her eyelid. Her pupils reacted to the light and began to constrict which was a good sign that she was still conscious.

He tapped his finger beneath her eye before holding his hand out and flicking his fingers against his thumb and spreading his hand open wide.

Eyes open.

His elbows imbedded into (Y/n)'s waist to keep her secured into his chest and he held his hands out in front of her. He pointed his index finger at himself, curled his hands into fists and placed one on top of the other, then pressed his fingertip into her chest as he spoke gently against her temple. "I got you."

Evan was more than relieved that (Y/n) seemed to come back around and she managed to move her hands and slump them against her chest. She curled her fingers and left her index fingers pointed out towards each other and moved her hands back and forth like repelling magnets.

Hurts.

"I know baby," Evan pointed at his chest then pressed his hand against his temple and moved his palm away.

He held his hands out and moved them sideways before turning them out and motioning forwards. He then held his left arm out and moved his right hand from his bicep down to his wrist.

Not for long.

Evan pressed his lips against (Y/n)'s temple and leaned forward to grab his phone that he had dropped when he went down on his knees beside her. He grabbed it and set it down against his thigh so he could dial for help. He knew why (Y/n) hadn't called for an ambulance already. He knew she wouldn't want to try and write things down and struggle to communicate with a stranger without him here, but it hurt that she had to wait for him.

If he had stayed home with her today she wouldn't of had to wait this long to get help. She wouldn't be in this much pain, bleeding out on the floor if he stayed home or if took his phone with him and checked his messages. He should have sent Maddie round to check on her.

He should have done something.

Just as he went to punch the numbers in, Evan tilted his head to the right and looked down at (Y/n) when she suddenly dug her nails into his wrist to get his attention.

"What, baby?" He squeezed her thigh and waited patiently for her to move and give him some indication of what she wanted.

But his heart shattered into a million tiny, splintering fragments all throughout his chest when (Y/n)'s trembling arms curved together and she motioned them from left to right. Baby. He tried to move his hand to repeat the sign for 'I know' but he didn't manage it when (Y/n) grabbed his wrist again and repeated the same sign. Baby. Her shaking hand then wafted out in front of her and she began to cry when she pointed out in front of them.

"Baby, I don't und-" Evan's shoulders slumped and his hand pinched into her thigh when it clicked.

He suddenly tugged (Y/n) higher between his legs and cupped her jaw in his hand, tilting her head to tuck her face back into the crook of his neck so he could smother his lips into her temple. He looked anywhere but towards the towel he realised she was pointing at. If he could, he would have shuffled further away and kicked the towel out of the room. He didn't want to touch that towel if their baby was in there.

"It's okay, shh it's okay." He smoothed his hand up and down her waist while his other hand picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He needed help. "Hen? Are you still at work?"

Evan didn't know what time Hen clocked off shift today, all he knew was that she had still been somewhere in the station when he left tonight. He didn't see the point in calling 911 and getting an ambulance from a different team out here when he could call his station instead. He wanted (Y/n) as comfortable as possible and she knew the team, she would be more at ease with them around her when they all knew a little bit of sign language.

He leaned his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head and pressed his phone into his ear while he slowly started to rock from left the right. Cringing every few seconds when (Y/n) sniffed and whimpered into his neck. He could feel her tears soaking into his skin and her wet lips wobbling against his neck and it made his own eyes start watering.

"I need an ambulance- no, no it's not me… (Y/n)'s had a miscarriage and she's bleeding out. Please, please help me."

***

(Y/n) could feel a headache burning behind her eyes when she tried to open her eyes and take in her surroundings. The room was bright. It was so bright (Y/n) felt like she was laid in the centre of the sun, but it cast a lovely halo of snow white and glimmers of melted yellow around Evan when her eyes focused on him.

He was perched on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward, his head bent to the side and one of his hands was stretched out. (Y/n) realised he was threading his fingers through her hair, it was a touch she was used to so much she didn't realise he was still doing it now. He brushed her hair behind her ear and dragged his fingertips down the side of her face down to her jaw.

"How do you feel?"

(Y/n) pressed her middle finger to her temple and hovered her other hand over her stomach, moving both hands in circles.

Sick.

Her head was pounding like someone was hitting her with a hammer, her stomach was twisted up in knots from sickness and adrenaline and panic and she felt like she needed to sleep for years to recover from this.

Evan pointed at her while his lips curved into a sad smile and he shook his hands around his chest before pointing at himself. "You scared me."

When (Y/n) rubbed her fist over her chest in circles, Evan reached out and grabbed her hand. His smile faded and he shook his head. He didn't want her to apologise for anything. She hadn't done anything wrong and he wasn't trying to patronise her or make her feel bad.

Adrenaline flowed through (Y/n)'s stomach and made her throat tense and her hands started to shake. She could feel her eyes watering over as she gently slipped her hand from Evan's grip so she could point at her chest then press her fingers to her thumbs. She dropped her hands down and opened her palms before moving to cocoon her arms together and cradle them from side to side.

She hated the way Evan dropped his head down so his chin was pressed into his chest.

He moved his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose that was beginning to burn and he couldn't stop the tears from tracing down the sides of his nose as his shoulders started to quake.

'I lost the baby.'

Finally, Evan lifted his head and rubbed the base of his palms against his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to wipe his face clean and compose himself.

His shaking hands held out in front of him and shook from side to side. He pointed towards (Y/n), then straightened his fingers and pressed his fingertips against his chest just below his shoulder. He then turned his hand and pressed his pinky and the side of his hand down against his chest.

"It's not your fault."

When (Y/n) went to rub her clenched hand over her chest, she could see Evan's chest quake and his lip curled as he growled and shook his head at her. He clenched his hands down around her wrists and pulled her arms until her hands were pressed into his chest. If she was going to try and apologise he would hold her wrists so she couldn't sign anything. He wouldn't sit and watch her apologise for something she had no control over.

She took him by surprise when she shuffled forward, curled her legs beneath her and flopped forward. Her knees coiled into her stomach and her head and chest slumped down over Evan's lap with her face buried in his abdomen and her arms curled around his hips.

Evan wrapped his arms around her as best he could with the way she was laid and doubled over so his chest smothered her like a comforting blanket. His lips pressed into her hair and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent as his fingertips started to trace up and down her back.

Evan wanted an explanation. He wanted someone to give him a reason for this, to tell him why this had happened to them, of all people. But he knew no one was going to be able to give him that answer, not now, probably not ever.

He was never going to get that image of (Y/n) out of his head. He was never going to enjoy going back to work and leaving her home alone whenever she was ill. If they ever got pregnant again, he was never going to feel safe leaving her for any reason.

What were they going to do now?

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #911 imagine #imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #evan buckley imagine

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