#he's so gorgeous somebody hold me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 11 months ago

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

Text

A Million Kisses - Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Arthur have spent your entire life terrorising Charles. But when he turns the tables on you, bringing up a topic you’ve largely ignored since your teenaged years, the dynamic changes.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Bullying Charles

2024 timeline. Pinterest pics. Childhood friends to lovers trope

F1 Masterlist

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by its_yn_ln, arthur_leclerc and others

scuderiaferrari just friday things

1,997 comments

pierregasly you all know what’s coming

user1 oh dear, not a charles post

its_yn_ln another day, another thirst trap. bet he posted this himself

arthur_leclerc not what i wanted to see when i opened up my phone

→ its_yn_ln agreed, i think i’ve gone blind

user2 every charles post summons yn and and arthur

arthur_leclerc where’s the carlos content? only reason i followed

→ charles_leclerc i’d like both of you to piss off

→ its_yn_ln that’s not a nice way to talk to your fans

alexandrasaintmleux 💕

→ its_yn_ln did charles force you to write that so that it seemed like somebody liked him?

→ arthur_leclerc don’t be silly, yn. he took her phone and wrote it himself

user3 not the terror twins at it again

user4 poor charles has been suffering from this ever since he joined f1

→ user5 and prior, it just wasn't as well documented lol

user6 i bet charles begs admin to cancel his posts because he lives in fear of the comments

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc beach days

1,616 comments

pierregasly looking good, brother (but i’m praying for you for when they see this)

its_yn_ln and i thought narcissus loved himself

→ charles_leclerc i miss the days before arthur befriended you

→ arthur_leclerc so before we were both born?

→ charles_leclerc exactly

scuderiaferrari making the most of summer break

→ user7 he’s actually begging for you to take him back so that he doesn’t have to spend another minute with yn and arthur

its_yn_ln put your chitties away

→ user8 when people ask me what my fav part of f1 is, i show them yn’s comments

arthur_leclerc not shown is charles eating waves every two seconds

→ charles_leclerc still did better than you. you wouldn’t stop staring at yn long enough to concentrate on the waves

→ user9 what did he sayyyy

→ user10 my ynarthur heart is screaming

→ user11 um, guys, who else thinks there’s truth to this

→ user12 no because they have NEVER let charles have the last comment yet neither clap back at this??

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its_yn_ln just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

its_yn_ln as charles once said, beach days ☀️ although my post is better because it has me and arthur in it

965 comments

arthur_leclerc anything is better with us and not charles

→ its_yn_ln more fun too

→ arthur_leclerc that’s just me, chérie

→ user14 i’m not screaming, you are

alexandrasaintmelux belle fille

→ its_yn_ln pas comparé à toi. still not sure what you’re doing with charles

→ alexandrasaintmleux doesn’t she look gorgeous @/arthur_leclerc?

→ arthur_leclerc you and charles deserve each other

charles_leclerc and no thank you to the brother who lent you his yacht for your date?

→ alexandrasaintmleux bébé, it is not a date? remember they made it quite clear

→ charles_leclerc all i’m saying is i do not look at or touch my friends like that

→ joris_trouche be weird if you did

→ charles_leclerc see @/its_yn_ln weird

→ its_yn_ln blocked

francisca.cgomes stunning

→ its_yn_ln marry me?

→ pierregasly @/arthur_leclerc come get your girl

→ its_yn_ln don’t you fucking start

oscarpiastri was he holding your hand so you didn’t fall into the water?

→ arthur_leclerc it’s what any good friend would do

user15 yn and arthur seem to be getting awfully defensive lately 👀

→ user16 no. they’ve always talked about how annoying it is to be accused of being more than friends so how about you don’t contribute to that

→ user17 yeah but things between them seem to be different lately and now the drivers are publicly commenting on it?

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arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

arthur_leclerc from 2 months to 22 years. it’s been a delight to share every special moment with you. happy birthday, mon problème 🥳🤍

1,027 comments

its_yn_ln i can’t believe you dug out that baby photo 😭 i look forward to another year with you by my side x

its_yn_ln although waking up to find out you had broken into my apartment and filled it with balloons was a bit of a shock

→ charles_leclerc you might need to get used to seeing that ugly mug first thing in the morning

→ user1 what does this mean?!

lilymhe okay but the tiara and the shades? iconic

→ its_yn_ln i’m an icon

→ charles_leclerc that’s not how you translate diva

alexandrasaintmleux happy birthday, yn. can’t wait to see you at dinner later

→ its_yn_ln can my birthday present be you leaving charles at home?

pierregasly happy birthday, yn. drinks on me later

→ its_yn_ln okay, you’re forgiven for teaming up with charles

→ pierregasly i’m not team charles. i’m team ynarthur

→ charles_leclerc we had shirts made

→ arthur_leclerc not today, guys.

→ user2 oo he used a full stop. he’s pissed

user3 guys, do we think the baby is just a phrase like ‘chaos baby’ or a pet name?

user4 arthur truly is the epitome of ‘if he wanted to, he would’

→ user5 never saw him put in this much effort for any of his previous relationships but yn gets the full princess treatment

user6 anyone else see that arthur liked @/PastryMan’s tweet about yn

→ user7 okay but let’s not read too much into it. he could just appreciate the compliment fans are giving to his best friend instead of the usual hate people associated with drivers get

→ user8 also, he was likely highly intoxicated last night lol. pr training vanishes at that point

→ user9 or, hear me out, like his brother and close friends are suggesting, he’s in love with yn

user10 okay but proof or it didn’t happen @/NoRizz. you wouldn’t be the first one to spread gossip about drivers

→ user11 okay, i take back my previous comment. i have since seen proof

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes and others

charles_leclerc let’s take a moment to appreciate my photography skills. (oh, and the fact that i am a genius and should not be doubted or ridiculed again) tagged: its_yn_ln, arthur_leclerc

2,024 comments

its_yn_ln insert ‘i am stupid’ charles radio here. even YOU think you’re stupid and like you said, we shouldn’t argue with you

→ charles_leclerc i hate you

→ its_yn_ln okay but i distinctly remember you asking to be my maid of honour yesterday so…? fake news

arthur_leclerc can’t really boast about your photography skills when these are all grainy/blurry

→ charles_leclerc i hate you

→ arthur_leclerc you literally cried when you caught us sleeping

→ its_yn_ln so loud that it woke us up

→ user12 he really is their #1 stan

francisca.cgomes the cutest couple

→ pierregasly what about us?

→ its_yn_ln you don’t deserve her

→ pierregasly what did i do?

→ pierregasly you should be thanking us! if not for our torment, you and arthur never would’ve been forced to confront your feelings

lilymhe tell that man to get his hands off my wife

→ its_yn_ln look away! it was a moment of weakness

→ arthur_leclerc she’s loved me for 22 years. she’s only known you for 5, back off

its_yn_ln bébé, why is your brother so obsessed with us?

→ arthur_leclerc he has nothing better to do

→ charles_leclerc merde, i thought sucking each other’s faces would keep you too preoccupied to attack me

→ arthur_leclerc never

→ its_yn_ln well, maybe if you stopped taking pics of us when we did, we’d be more inclined to

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

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the-nameless-ramekin · 1 year ago

Text

🤧🤧🤧 THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME

genuinely at a loss for words and pumping my brain for actually coherent English things to say JAHSJKHKH so there's just brain dumping in the tags 👇

Tumblr can't deal with all of my tags RIP so here's more things I included that got thanos snapped:

this has had more cultural impact than the renaissance. not even my partner on our wedding day could move me to this degree.

not me not realising your two accounts were the same person LMAO 🤡

genuinely am so overwhelmed by the sheer prowess, beauty, intricacy of this masterpiece. bias aside (being my story and also my existing love for your art) it's just objectively the most visually stunning thing I've ever seen

I will blast my current story with copious amounts of leorook in honour of you

how tf did it take me an hour to type everything out + wrangle Tumblr

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

#THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL DETAILED AND THOUGHTFUL I DON'T DESERVE THIS #firstly your art is absolutely astounding holy shit #good god #the composition? use of perspective? colour?? lighting?? sense of space??#IF I WASN'T LYING DOWN UPON MY FIRST VIEWING OF THIS MASTERPIECE I WOULD'VE KEELED ONTO THE FLOOR BTW #I AM OBSESSED WITH ALL THE FINER DETAILS like their clothes being their partners' hair colour YOUR BRAIN #also ace's camera and the little heart ❤️#VIL'S INCOGNITO OUTFIT (although partially obscured)!!!!#AND ALSO?? THE FOREST IN THE BACKGROUND AND THE LIBRARY SHATTERING #IDK IF THIS WAS LIKE SPECIFICALLY PLANNED BUT HOW IN THE BACK MURAL THE 6 ANGELS ARE CLOSED OFF AND EXCLUDING THE 4 THAT FELL #WAIT ALSO. ROOK TURNING BACK BC HE'S THE ONLY ONE THAT RECOGNISES LEONA #did I mention how beautiful and immaculate your art is. yes I have but I'm gonna do it again #UGH THIS IS FLAWLESS AND IT'S REARRANGING MY BRAIN #also leorook holds head in hands oh my lord #I'M LOSING MY MIND THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY GORGEOUS AND I AM BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR THE TIME AND EFFORT YOU HAVE PUT INTO THIS #I'll give you my firstborn #my credit card info even #okay now it's time for obligatory feelings rant #frankly it is surreal seeing something related to one's story without being the person creating it it's like an out of body experience /pos #wow I have a degree in incoherency ANYWAY #this had me reminiscing #crying #I'll never forget this as long as I live. also I want it on my gravestone.#OKAY SUMMARY TIME #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING SO MUCH TIME LOVE AND EFFORT INTO THIS. IT IS INCOMPREHENSIBLY AMAZING.#to think that somebody appreciates your work enough to put in so many incredible intricate references and details #and devote their time and energy into producing something so gorgeous HAS ME ON THE FLOOR. CRYING.#(warning it’s Publicly Getting Vulnerable Hours™) but anyway I don’t usually think very highly of my writing #(especially tfac in particular because it took so long and I was pretty much a different person writing chapter 1 vs chapter 20)#so this destroyed me emotionally

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated.

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong.

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks.

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach.

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong."

"I'm just trying to figure something out."

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance.

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein.

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?"

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop.

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something.

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention."

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights.

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done?

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time.

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again.

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears.

This is all so messy, and it's your fault.

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me.

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid.

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help.

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go."

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention.

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up.

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell.

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you.

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it."

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry."

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel.

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug.

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon.

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two.

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset "

"I'm an idiot–"

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–"

"I shouldn't have–"

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away.

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up."

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into?

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me."

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile.

"It's not okay."

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even."

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked."

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?"

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back."

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better."

"I know." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you."

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful.

"Does it look really bad?"

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says.

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already."

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to."

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid."

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask.

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not."

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure."

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want."

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks.

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it.

"That feels nice," you mumble.

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?"

"Don't," you warn.

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?"

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it.

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry."

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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morning-star-joy · 10 months ago

Text

half asleep, half awake

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Every time Joel Miller realizes he loves you. Every time he wants to tell you, and the time he does.

Warnings: Brief smut (unprotected p in v, possessiveness, creampie), brief reference to canon-typical violence, longing, Joel can’t communicate his feelings until he can, lots and lots of love. Multiple specific references to the main series. Joel's POV.

A/N: I’ve gotten asked a few times when Joel realizes he loves Reader in this series, and the inspiration hit me the other day to write out my answer to it. Because it could be one scene, but so many before, and so many after when he wants to say it. I miss these two and I love these two and I hope that this little companion piece to the fic makes somebody as happy as I was to write them again!

Wordcount: 1.8k

gorgeous dividers by @saradika

Important: Please read this post and how to help Palestine.

The first time Joel feels it—really feels it, settled into his bones with an undeniable weight, tugging at his heart with an unimaginable lightness—is the night of his 57th birthday.

Months of staying out of his bedroom, of keeping you off his bed, dissolve into a forgotten time the moment you tug the glass of whiskey from his hand.

Move over, you’d said, making room for yourself amongst the place where he laid his head every night. You finish off the drink, take the rest of the poison he’d been diluting his veins with to drown out the pain of all he’d lost, and settle next to him.

He thinks he wants to see you there every night.

You ask him things like his favorite fucking color, things that don’t matter. Not to him, not to you—but you ask anyway. You meet his eyes readily, open and honest and searching his soul for the same old breaks in your own, and he feels it.

You hold his hand, and it fits there. You would fit into his side too, he muses, if he pulled you in.

He wants to pull you in. He wants you in ways nobody’s ever had you—he knows they haven’t, can feel the trepidation in your soul when he looks at you for too long, or lets his touches linger.

You’ll fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, because maybe there isn’t, but you won’t let him hold you tender. Not that he’s tried, but he knows you. Not everything about you, but enough.

And that night, there’s more. More to you, wounds open and pain spilling out, and it looks like his own. It is his own.

I should probably go, you say when it’s become too much, and he feels the urge to ask you to stay.

Joel asks if you want a drink instead, because he’s an idiot, and you say he’s had too much, because you’re right.

He watches from his window as you walk home under the streetlights for once instead of sticking to the darkness, and though he won’t call it what it is, he knows it’s love.

Joel’s loved you longer than that, though. Somehow he knows it, but he can’t place when.

In front of his fireplace, maybe. You’re shivering from god knows how long you had spent in the rain, in the graveyard, in your own mourning. Broken, and he wants to find each piece of you that you’ve lost and put you back together.

Or at least hold you tight enough that you feel okay again. He just knows that he misses your damn smirk, your fucking laugh, and maybe that was love too.

Or maybe it’s when he wants you to be his, his, his only. When he wants to erase the image of that man’s hand on your back with his own on your skin, fingertips digging into your hips and pulling them back to slap against his.

Maybe it’s the skirt of a temptress bunched up around your waist, each desperate thrust of his cock into your needy cunt, dripping and squeezing as you say, moan, scream his name, his, his.

Maybe it’s when you’re half-naked after, admitting you don’t know what the fuck this is, don’t understand what it’s become, and he doesn’t know either. But it’s something delicate. Maybe it’s love then.

Maybe it’s love on the bathroom floor when he realizes you’re the first friend he’s made in years.

Maybe it’s love when he wants to kill every single bastard raider who took you from him, wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and make them bleed and bleed for how much blood they’d taken from you. Precious blood, blood that kept you alive, kept you snarky and angry and wrapped around him each time he took as much pleasure from you as he gave back.

Or it’s Halloween, the bright lights, loud music, and clothes of a bygone era. None of it real until Maria shoves the truth of the matter into his face. She tells him he’s an idiot and just what it all means, what you mean to everyone, and to him, and he finally accepts it.

That’s the first night he has you in his bed. The first night he sees all of you, feels all of you, skin against skin, and you come again, and again, and again. It’s not enough, he needs to keep feeling it, needs you to fall apart in his hands so he can put you back together. A single thread he weaves through you and tugs with each ripple of pleasure, pulling you apart again with each clench of your cunt around his cock, until you pull it from him too.

You fall asleep in a matter of minutes after. Lips parted, and he wished he could watch them swell after a kiss, but you were still holding back.

So he settles for his palm on your cheek, stroking the scar that he still doesn’t know how you got, and feels so much longing, so much love when you sink into his sheets, wrapped up in his favorite color that you knew because you cared to ask. Settled by just the touch of him.

Joel thinks you tried to say something that night, but he’ll never know what. He does know what he wants to say, but he holds back. He’d wait for you, even if you never wanted this too. He’d be whatever you did want him to be.

Time passes in a blur after that, as you tangle yourselves together in ways he never would’ve once thought possible. He doesn’t move, and you lean into him. He doesn’t move, just lets you come to him, too scared you’ll run away again if he holds you too tight, or at all.

Then that night. A meal shared with the family you’d found. He tries to go home alone after, and you chase after him, hold him tight, and he knows. He knows what he feels, and he knows you feel it too.

He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to. Night after night he wants to, the more that you settle and the more that you’re his. The more that he is yours.

You kiss him, finally—or he kisses you, he can’t remember which. And it says it all.

Still, the words are trapped in his throat as his home truly becomes yours.

His body had already been your home for a year.

His heart, for longer than he would ever know.

But his house. Four walls that didn’t mean anything, not really, not until you lived within them and your sister’s art was on the mantle, your photograph of your parents was in your room that was his room, all your mugs in the kitchen and his coffee was your coffee—he needs to tell you.

He tries to every morning, in his kitchen with your cups of coffee—or tea, with complaints falling from both his mouth and yours if you were out of your preferred beverage. He doesn’t, but he knows you can taste it in the drink he brews for you, perfected to your liking.

He tries to before every patrol, in case somebody takes you from him again. He doesn’t, but he knows you can see it when his eyes seek yours, when he gives you a nod and a lingering gaze before you’re out of the gates and on your way. He knows you can feel it when you both get home, his arms wrapped around you tight and the tension seeping from his body when you’re pressed to him.

He tries to every night, but it’s lost on his tongue every time it slides into your mouth. He knows you know with every kiss, every thrust of his hips from where he’d found a home nestled between your thighs, spilling himself into you as you welcomed him in and made the most beautiful music every time.

You’re comfortable in bed months after the holidays, after that first kiss. Winter is warming into spring, the air feels like starting again, and he tries to tell you.

You’d been reading when he crawled into bed behind you after a shower. His face buried into your neck, each drop of water onto your skin so cold it makes you shiver. But your nails dig into his forearm when it wraps around your waist, the book tumbling from your fingers as you grasp at the nightstand with each drag of his pulsing cock inside your tight heat.

The lamp on the nightstand rattles with each thrust, sending waves of warm light flashing across the room. He’s mesmerized each time it washes across your face, pinched in the familiar climb for pleasure you trusted him to guide you through. He mouths at the scar on your cheek, caressing with lips and tongue as you gasp his name.

You’re so beautiful. His moon, his heart, his home, his everything.

Joel wants to tell you when you come, your eyes fluttering open and seeking his. Seeking that connection between you, as hungry as you are reverent, and he doesn’t deserve it, that undying loyalty. But you think the same for yourself, so what did either of you know, besides what this was.

Love, and he wants to say it. Wants to say he loves you when each flutter of your pussy around him sends him spiraling into an orgasm, a blissful moment of release he now only ever associated with you.

Half asleep after, you’re content, the warm light of the steadied lamp caressing your skin as he cleans it. You know what he wants to say, he thinks. Your eyes are heavy and lazily watching as he kisses the inside of your thigh, peppers his love up your body to your lips.

Half awake, Joel watches you reach for him, pulling him down into a soft caress of your lips against his, with more tenderness either of you ever thought you were capable of.

He won’t say it. You know he won’t.

But you know he will. Someday.

And that one morning amongst many that belong to just you and him, when you ask about other lives, when he realizes you’d want him in more than just this one—in every one—he says it.

You say it back, and everything is right.

When you ask him when he first felt it, he tells you the truth; that he hadn’t felt it just yet on that snowy street a year ago, but a part of him always knew he would love you.

And now, Joel knew he always would.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #a stranger's heart series

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bcyhoods · 1 year ago

Text

TO BE SAFE. EDDIE MUNSON

synopsis: you ask to sleep over at eddie’s for the first time, and he undoubtedly is head over heels for you

word count: 1.2k

authors notes: somebody requested this before i started my blog over! if this finds u, im sending you a cookie and a kiss, as promised x

warnings: fem!reader, use of gendered pet names (princess, pretty girl), dialogue is…….cheesy cringe a little😔, clueless eddie, kissing !!!

“Goddamit.”

Eddie hisses beside you at the jumpscare on screen. It was the quietest sound, drowned underneath the blood-curdling screams in the film. It probably would’ve gone completely unnoticed. Unluckily for him, it didn’t. Luckily for you, your legs were draped over his lap, so the mechanical jolt of fright sent your own legs jumping into the air.

His head is thrown against the back of his couch as he slaps his free hand over his eyes. You giggle as you watch his skin flush scarlet underneath your stare.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you coo, voice shaky in between your laughter.

The embarrassment doesn’t quite subside, but the sound of your infectious giggle and the feeling of you moving into his lap to pry away his fingers is enough to have his chest rumbling with mirrored joy. He gazes up at you as you hold his hands.

“You scared, Eds?”

You don’t mean for it to sound like you’re teasing, but he laughs anyway. With a grin, he shakes his head wildly and clasps his hands around your back.

“Nope, I’ve got a princess to protect me.”

He pushes you down into the couch so that he’s hovering above you, and you respond with a squeal. Your legs are locked around his waist as his hands dig into the plush of the cushion beside your head. He leans down with a proud smile to press a kiss to your mouth.

The kisses are sloppy. He litters your face and neck in open-mouthed love bites, none hard enough to leave any mark. When he reaches your lips, it’s more smiles and spit than any real kiss, but neither of you seem to mind. Not when the smell of his citrusy shampoo wraps around your figure to make you dizzy. Not when your hands roam along his biceps and up to the nape of his neck like you’re the only thing keeping him from floating away.

It’s a mess of hushed teasing and giggles and clashing teeth, and it’s perfect.

As he pushes himself up for a moment of air, he looks off to the side before releasing a displeased sigh. “Shit, it’s getting late,” he observes solemnly.

He sits back on his heels, just far away enough for you to hold yourself up. You follow his line of sight and find that the digital clock on the shelf reads 11:15. Your shoulders deflate and your heart sinks.

“It is kinda late, isn’t it?”

Once you turn back to him, his eyes are stuck on you. Gorgeous, dilated pupils run across the high points of your cheekbones and back down to your lips. His gaze commands a rush of heat to caress your skin until your insides are set ablaze and your mouth is painfully dry.

The utter lack of urgency may as well have been a weighted blanket.

One of his arms snakes around your waist to pull you into him further. He leans forward, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to catch your lips.

This one is less playful than the ones you shared just seconds before. His movements are languid, purposeful. Like all the air had been stolen from his lungs and you were oxygen.

Your elbows threaten to buckle underneath your weight. Though, you’d happily sink back into the couch cushions and let them swallow you whole, if it meant you got to kiss him all night. And he’d just as eagerly take up the opportunity to have you underneath him for as long as he could entertain.

But he’s pulling away. Your foreheads rest together as you wear matching expressions of bliss: eyes closed, and slick, kiss-bitten lips parted. His thumb sinks underneath the hem of your shirt to dance across your skin. Another weighted blanket.

“I’ll drive ya,” he whispers reluctantly.

You watch as Eddie stands to stretch, and the warmth follows. A pensive wrinkle makes home between his brows as he slowly moves to grab his jacket. This, along with the nagging feeling in your chest, was routine whenever you spent the day at his place.

It’s not that he hasn’t offered for you to spend the night before, because he’s suggested it quite a few times. It was just so scary. The nerves bubble and spill over and it’s just all a mess inside your head whenever you want to ask.

Today is something different, though. All that occupies your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and suddenly, you think it’d be impossible to spend the night without him.

“Really? You’re not tired?” The questions run off your tongue without a second thought.

“Well, I’m wide awake now,” he jests, running the metal of his rings over his bottom lip. He pats the pockets of his jacket for his keys, and when he comes up empty, he searches the kitchen counter.

The fear creeps back into your head as you watch him rifle through drawers. It makes you shrink in on yourself as you trudge over to your shoes that lay haphazardly by the door.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to drive if you’re tired,” you ask softer.

Noticing a change in your demeanor, he looks up at you to see your teeth worrying at your lower lip. “I’m sure,” he insists sweetly, “Can’t let my pretty girl drive alone in the dark.”

He finally finds his keys and moves over to where his own pair of shoes rested beside yours. He sends you an easy grin and it makes it all the harder to swallow down your anxieties.

“It’s foggy out,” you mention faintly. You don’t know what the weather is like outside. It was merely you grasping at straws to freeze him in his motion. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious at this point, expecting a light tease from the wavy-haired boy.

But oblivious as he is, Eddie peeks out the blinds anyway to scan the trailer park. He hums. It’s a little gloomy, but hardly anything to worry about. Just as he’s about to reassure you again, he pauses when he spots your fingers fidgeting with a loose seam in your sleeve. You’re staring down at your shoes — which you’ve purposely done a poor job of putting on, as they’re only halfway on your feet — with your tongue bitten between your teeth.

“Maybe…” you pause to take a deep inhale. “It’s probably better if I stay? If that's okay with you, I mean.”

Then, does Eddie freeze. And he feels like an absolute fool.

He feels like an absolute fool for being the one to get up first. For not getting the totally conspicuous hints you’ve been trying to give him for the past minute and a half. For being so focused on trying to find his damn keys that he hoped he’d lost in the first place. And for standing in shocked silence for so long that you’ve begun to frown and properly shove your ankles inside your shoes.

“Yeah,” he replies abruptly, reaching out for your arm.

“Yeah?” The hopeful rise in your inflection makes him gently squeeze your elbow.

“Yeah, of course you can stay. I want you to.”

You nod. You duck your chin to your chest to hide the shy smile on your lips, but to no avail. Eddie can spot your bright grin from a mile away and makes him go weak in the knees with a blush that he’s sure is making its way to his cheeks.

“Just to be safe, ya know,” you add before toeing off your shoes and pushing them closer to the wall.

“Right. To be safe.”

#i lost track of the plot at first…….like always #it’s not a bcyhoods fic if there isn’t a whole bunch of other shit happening #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic

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nvuy · 7 months ago

Text

to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday

summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.

notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.

warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!

“You are breaking my heart.”

You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.

For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.

You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.

Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”

To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.

It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.

And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.

He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.

You took it as a warning.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Of course you did.

It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.

You nodded meekly.

Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”

He was still tracing the edge of the table.

There was a small grin on his face.

Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.

His halo was glowing in the light.

“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”

The muscle raced in your chest.

You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.

“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”

Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.

He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.

It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”

Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”

“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.

You stopped. “What?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

And there it was.

He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.

He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.

You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.

He noticed. “You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.

“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”

“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.

Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.

The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.

It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.

He was particular.

And he hated change.

He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”

“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”

“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.

Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.

“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.

His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”

You shrank down into your seat.

“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.

Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.

He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.

Sunday merely nodded, blinking slowly. “You understand now.”

You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.

Your brows knitted together.

A bell tolled nearby.

You don’t recall any sort of church close by.

“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”

You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.

Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.

When you looked around, there was nobody else.

Just the two of you.

“Stand up,” he ordered softly.

You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.

You must have looked pathetic.

Sunday offered you his hand.

Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.

He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”

Something was wrong, and his face was changing.

For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.

His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.

You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.

“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”

“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”

Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.

You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.

Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?

You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.

“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”

“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”

Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.

What is it? What is that?

You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.”

You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.

“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”

“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.

The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.

“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–

“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.

Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”

You said nothing.

Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.

You were so sick of this paranoia.

When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.

Such a perfect, warm fit.

Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.

“Question: have you ever lied to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.

The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.

It didn’t sound like any language you knew.

“Answer the question, angel.”

Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.

“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.

He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”

Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.

Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.

“Did you lie to me the night we met?”

The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.

Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.

Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.

Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.

He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”

“Yes,” you said.

As he expected.

You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.

His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”

He smiled.

“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.

Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.

Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.

“Yes,” you responded.

He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.

Oh, you were crying.

You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.

He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.

You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.

He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”

You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”

You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.

Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”

“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”

You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.

You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.

The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.

Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.

He could fix that.

He hadn’t said a word for a moment.

The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.

He shushed you. “One final question.”

You shook your head.

Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.

His face, too, warped into something evil.

This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.

His halo dimmed for a moment.

You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.

“Do you still love me?”

#sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#✦ ( after hours. )

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laylaplease · 1 year ago

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Warnings — SEX POLLEN, dub-con, Master x Padawan, power imbalance, intoxication, abuse of authority, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pain, brief nipple play, brief fingering, degrading if you squint, pet names, praise, swearing...

Word count — 3.3k

Notes — Thank you, Anon for the request! This is the first time I write a fic this length, I hope it's enjoyable! I truly hope I didn't miss any warnings; it's currently past 3am and my head is fried.

“You know this is completely unnecessary; you are overexaggerating…” Anakin complains as you wrap a thick linen rope around his wrists, securing your master in place. “I swear, I’m fine. Look,” He leans forward, putting his face on display. So close, you could feel his soft breath on the tip of your nose.

You inspect his eyes, deep blue eyes with slightly dilated pupils; if it were somebody else, they wouldn’t have seen a difference, but you… Oh, you were different. You knew his eyes a little bit too well for just a Padawan, and you were certain: something was wrong. You could sense his heart pumping blood through his veins a little bit too fast, his irregular breathing, you spotted things he failed to notice about himself. Maybe all those stolen glances at his undeniably gorgeous face and broad body will pay off, giving you something else than just fantasy material for all the lonely nights.

“No.” You reply bluntly. “I’m sorry, master.” You tie a last knot around his wrists. You wanted to explain; tell him all the things you sensed were different: the way his gaze twisted when landing on your body, the way he squirmed just slightly as you bind his limbs together, the way he… Smelled. It wasn’t just a regular Anakin scent, no. It was sweeter, almost milky, and it made you want to burry your face into his skin, so naturally, you could never reveal your reasoning.

Anakin sighed, leaning his back against the remains of your spaceship, his tied hands resting on top of his lap, hiding the slowly-forming tightness you both failed to notice. He could swear everything was perfect. Well, aside from the fact that you both were left stranded on an unknown planet and after hours of wandering in search of life and help, you ended up back at the crash site.

“You realize I would never hurt you, right?” He stares at you, visible annoyance present on his features. “There is nothing wrong with me, I didn’t even touch anything unknown.”

He was right; he touched nothing. He… Inhaled it. And (un)fortunately neither of you knew.

“I know….” You look into his eyes pleadingly, trying to convince him to stay put in case he goes on some kind of rampage that your whole body senses is coming. You wanted to deny your gut feeling, but the gleam in his eyes told you it was a bad idea.

Time passes slowly, and Anakin is growing more and more impatient as he watches your failing attempts to fix the transmitter and possibly reach someone.

“Give me that.”

You stare at him from a short distance, thinking whether it’s smart to approach him, but your doubts are quickly wiped away when that sweet scent reaches the inside of your lungs with the help of a soft breeze. You stand up and bring him the broken device.

Anakin grabs your hand instead and pulls you down to your knees in front of him. Your face meets his with a surprised stare, and before you can complain about the invasion of your space, he speaks.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Fast.” His stare is intense, and he holds your hand tightly in his restricted grip. “Got it?”

“Yes, M-master.” You stutter, stunned by his sudden change of demeanor; you can’t even move. And the worst part is that he smells even better this close.

“Good girl.” He keeps staring into your eyes, grasping your hand as if he doesn’t intend to let it go. “Maker, you are such a pretty thing, I could tear you apart…” He contemplates out loud, his words surprising the last part of his sane mind as he’s becoming more and more vulnerable to foreign planet’s drugs.

“What?”

He slowly frees your hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s starting to feel it — pants failing to hide a very prominent arousal, mouth watering at the sight of your cleavage, you look fucking scrumptious; and he needs to devour you. He snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry.” Anakin mutters, seemingly regaining some of his senses. He shifts on the ground as you stare at him dumbfounded, not only because of his sudden vulgarity but also because the outline of his dick was now very visible and your eyes couldn’t help but glance.

“Master?”

He groans. “Don’t say that.” He shamelessly palms himself in front of your eyes as if he were in pain from how tight his underwear was. “Don’t call me master. Not now, sweetheart.” His voice softens just for a moment.

“Master, are you okay?” You deny his request. Involuntary. Maybe because it was a habit, or maybe because some part of you really wanted him to get unbearably hard for you.

He yanks you towards himself with his sluggish grip. Tied hands wrap around your throat, and he hisses. “I fucking mean it. You call me that again. I’m going to bend you over this wreck of a spaceship and bruise your insides until someone finally comes and gets us off this forsaken planet.”

If you weren’t surprised before, you are now absolutely bewildered. You pushed him away, landing on your butt and quickly crawling reversely to create some space between yourself and the animal that possessed your master’s body.

Anakin stood up and leaned himself against the wreckage as if trying to fight something that’s been trying to claw its way out of his body. His back turned to you, shoulders rising up and down repeatedly as he struggled to speak.

“Go. Now.” He groans, trying to hold his panting in.

“Anakin?” You rise yourself from the ground and take a step towards him, hesitating to move or speak more.

“Fucking RUN.” A growl slips from his throat; you’ve never heard such an animalistic sound coming from him. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning, a head start for you. And if there was a perfect time to listen to his advice about doing everything he’s telling you — that was it.

So you do.

You feel the wind blowing through your ears and burning your throat as you try to get away as far from Anakin as possible. Your pulse is thudding rapidly, your limbs are shaking, and yet your insides are throbbing, aching to have relief from the extreme arousal created by your master’s primal behavior and the image of his hardening cock imprinted in your head.

You turn your head slightly, glancing behind you, expecting to see Anakin making his way towards you, but instead you are greeted with the sight of nobody. Anakin’s nowhere to be seen. You look around, panting heavily, trying to spot movement somewhere between the trees. You fear him and what he could do to you, but the fact that he’s gone frightens you even more. Your master could never hurt you, right?

“Master?!” Your voice echoes through what seems to be an empty grove of an unrecognized planet. The only sound you can hear is your own breathing, and you realize how loud it is, how easy it is for any predator to hear you. Anakin's hunt was simple when his prey served herself on the plate before him.

A gust of wind passed through your ears at the same moment as Anakin’s hands gripped you from behind and harshly pushed your quivering body against a tree nearby. His wrists bruised red from the rope, which he seems to have torn apart. Your vision blurs for a moment from the force he’s grabbed you with. His lips press on your ear.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid girl. Now look what you’ve done.” He whispers into your ear as his bulge presses against your ass.

“A-Anakin-” You whimper, miserably trying to push him off you but instead just creating more friction on his already painful core.

His hand snakes into your robes, grasping your breast roughly, making your back arch. It’s hot and desperate to tear your flesh apart. And it feels so so good. So pathetically good that you almost feel like you’re the one taking advantage of him and not the other way around. He toys with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers as his free hand grabs onto your thigh and presses your body onto his clothed cock.

“S’ alright, sweetheart… Your body’s so perfect…” He sinks his teeth into your neck and pulls on your delicate skin. “I’m so sorry—fuck—Sweetheart… I can’t stop-” His soft voice was a complete contrast to his forceful grip on your curves. His hands boldly groped you, kneading every bit of your body he could reach — all while grinding himself against you like an animal in heat.

“No- You can’t,” You whimper, trying to fight him and your own desire. “Anakin!” You gasp in pain when he presses your body into the tree, bruising your cheek.

“Shhhh… ‘s alright, just let me—” He pulls your robes, his hand making its way down your stomach, cupping your dripping heat. He inhales into your neck. “Don’t be scared.” He shushes your whines.

And it’s not like you’ve never imagined Anakin fucking you; you have. Way more than you should have, and yet you were shaking in fear, especially knowing that he was under the influence of something wicked.

“No, master-” You gasp as he inserts a finger inside you, wasting no time before fucking you with his hand. “S-stop-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” He whimpers into your shoulder as your walls clenches around his digit. He slips another in. “What a perfect cunt… I’ll fucking ruin it." It was almost as if Anakin’s alter ego was overtaking his normal self — the one who would never dare to touch his Padawan like that, to taint her precious body with his pathetic touch.

“Ah!” Your back arched into him involuntarily. It was wrong. So so wrong and yet deep inside you never wanted him to stop, not when your walls spasmed around him for a sweet release.

“That’s it, good girl, come here.” He pulls his fingers out, making you pulse and whimper at the lack of pleasure. He quickly lands you both on the ground, spreading your thighs apart for himself. “Look at that,” He bites his lower lip. “And you say you don’t want it? You’re fucking soaked.”

“We can’t-” You whimper yet again. “You wouldn’t- Ah!”

He grins as he slaps his cock against your clit, rubbing it up and down your entrance as the wet, slippery sound reaches your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you one way or another, so you just might as well enjoy it, after all…” He leans on top of you, lining the crown of his cock with your hole. “…master knows best.”

He slides in with one swift movement, filling you to the brim as you claw his back with your nails. He’s big, way bigger than his fingers, forcing your walls to stretch wide open to welcome both his length and girth. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust much when he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, earning a loud whimper from you.

“Pretty girl…” He coos, stroking your cheek as he repeats the movement more urgently. “Master’s cock feels good, hm?”

It did, Maker; it felt amazing. Every vein bruised your gushing hole just right as he thrusted into you, long and powerful strokes, head hitting your cervix at the perfect angle to make your toes curl. Each time his sack slapped against your ass, an electric sting flashed through your cunt, forcing a pathetic moan out of your mouth. Your vision is so blurry from how hard you are rolling your eyes back, you don’t even see how Anakin comes forward and presses his lips onto yours.

His kiss is starving, depraved of you. He tries to say something, but it’s pretty incoherent, muffled by your saliva mixing with his. He tugs on your lips, sticking his tongue far up your mouth, smearing spit over your chin. His teeth clash against yours every time he attempts to reach into you deeper, as if trying to devour you from the inside out.

“Fuck,”—thrust—”So…”—thrust—”Fucking…”—thrust—-”Tight-” He moans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel his whimpers inside your body.

Anakin props himself up on his forearms — each on the other side of your face. He snakes his fingers into your hair, making you look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me, and tell me you love it. Beg me to fuck you, come on, baby…”

He’s a mess, and he’s messing you up too; he wants you to plead, but there is no reason to; he’s already balls deep in you, abusing parts of your body nothing and nobody has ever reached before.

“M-master…” A feeble whimper is all your body can muster when your whole lower half twitches from pleasure. “…Stop...” You claw on his chest, trying to push him off, maybe because you know how sick it is to allow him to turn you into a drooling cockslut, or maybe because you don’t want to cum so fucking soon.

“What’s the matter, angel? You wanna cum, yeah?” A wicked smile spreads across his face, as if he were listening to all of your thoughts while you laid there spread open. “Yeah? Your little cunt can’t take master’s cock at all, hmmm?” He mocks you, and you know you deserve it, for one reason or another.

His filthy words and a couple of powerful strokes are enough to have your juices coating his whole shaft as your back arches and hardened nipples rub against his chest. The orgasm he’s giving you blinds your mind; it drowns out every other noise that’s not his moans of pleasure or your wetness spurting around him.

“Thought so.” He laughs in your face, gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up — his cock still inside you, soaking up all you had to give it. “That’s alright, angel, it’ll hurt less now that you’re all stretched out and drenched.”

“N-no…” You cry when he adjusts your position to reach deeper into you, seemingly not even caring that your soaked walls are still aching from him fucking you over the edge just moments ago. “A-Ani…” It’s a bittersweet pleasure — the way he keeps going through your body desperately, trying to push him out and stop the ache inside of you.

“Look,” He releases his grip on your thigh and grabs your chin. “Look how perfect your little cunt is…” He slides all the way out and slowly pushes back in, his pubic hair tickling your skin. “As if it’s made to take me.” He forces your head to look down between your bodies and admire the mess he’s creating.

The more he sees you struggle to look without squirming, the more precise his movements are. He angles his painfully thick cock to scratch your spongy insides, your throbbing cunt squeezing him enough to force delicious grunts out of his mouth.

Your eyes are blurry from the tears you didn’t know formed; you blink rapidly, attempting to catch a glimpse of Anakin’s face. You were self-evident about the desperate mess he’s turned you into, drenched in sweat and cum, your body sore and bruised, it was obvious, however, you didn’t expect Anakin to be as disheveled as well. His lips were apart, soaked in spit, the blue of his eyes barely visible from the expansion of the pupils, dirty locks sticking to his forehead, your master looked and, quite obviously, behaved like a brute beast devouring his prey. And yet, he was angelic.

Your idealization of Anakin was the root reason why you resisted digging his eyes out with your nails and putting up a violent fight against him for corrupting your body inside and out. Because, essentially, Anakin is still your master. The one who teaches you, the one who tends your wounds, the one who is now currently fucking you over your second orgasm with no mercy in his bloodshot orbs. And honestly, you are starting to genuinely enjoy it.

“Just like that, pretty girl, keep squeezing me…” Anakin presses his lips against yours, forcing his tongue in and making you answer his desperate kiss. One of your legs is stretched up painfully, foot dangling over his shoulder, while the other almost involuntary wraps around him and makes sure he’s plunging deep into you with no chance of escaping. “Good girl, that’s it,” He moans into your mouth, “I’m going to cum, yeah, s’ like that, let me fill that tight cunt.”

“P-please…” You reach for his head, grabbing him by the roots of his hair to lock your lips back together. “Master- fuuuuuck!” There it is again — you are cumming all over his cock, slurping onto his tongue while milking him to his own orgasm. You can barely see or make sense of your surroundings; all you know is that he’s pounding you into oblivion, and you love every second of being stretched out for your master to use.

Anakin is grabbing your body, toying with your flesh. Even when his dick starts to fuck long threads of his thick cum into you, he can’t stop frantically abusing your body in every way possible; grabbing, biting, kissing, and fucking all come at the same time, sending your body into a sensory overload, and you can swear you are about to lose your mind and die right there and then.

But there is no time for dying, not when you realize Anakin has emptied himself deep inside you and yet is nowhere close to stopping. His cock, still hard, surrounded by the mix of your and his cum, is slamming into you with sensual yet forcible strokes, making it seem like you can taste the sourness of his release in your mouth.

“So needy, going to make sure to fuck it deep in you, angel.” He whispers into your neck, you can’t help but whimper and dig your nails into his shoulder blades in hopes of him easing up on you, but he only pulls his face off your shoulder and greets you with a filthy grin. “If I knew how beautiful your fucked-out expressions and little whimpers were, I would have devoured this pretty pussy much earlier…”

“M-master…” You cry out for help, for pleasure, for him. Everything ceases to exist except Anakin. His expression softens just for a moment. He settles his cock inside of you and reaches out to wipe the mess of drool and tears from your cheek.

“It’s okay, my sweet Padawan." He whispers, his hands gently caresses your hipbones in a subconscious attempt to soothe your aching muscles. Anakin leans down to kiss your lips one more time. You can feel his whole length throbbing and begging for friction while the wetness of your releases seeps down your cunt. “I know you can take more, yeah? Just like when we train, alright? You want to stop…”—Thrust—”But I’m the Master…”

Your eyes roll back when your sex is rewarded with a glimpse of more pleasure, a little promise of what he can give you if you just enjoy it like he’s commanded you. So you buck your hips into him, seeking yet another release.

“There she is…” Anakin’s deranged expression makes its way back between his perfect features. To your surprise, he swiftly pulls himself out of you, which makes you whine from the lack of fullness and feeling of the mix of liquids trickling down your body. “Let’s see how useful your other holes are, mmm?”

And with that, you know — whatever he’s infested with still has yet to wear off.

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satocidal · 1 year ago

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳“15 missed Calls”—Geto Suguru

Synopsis: Suguru wasn’t a jealous or angry man but then you usually didn’t flaunt your ass a round in a tiny dress either- but hey, Halloween’s every girl’s pass at being a whore, right?

── ˚₊✩‧₊ A/n: ok yeah I’m late to post for Halloween but it’s like barely anything to do with it so <3 also I did stray away from what I’d planned to write but then hehe👉👈 also, thanks to @romiyaro for beta and in general (I swear I’ll get pouty! Reader in some Drabble now💀)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 3.9k

── ˚₊✩‧₊ warnings: MDNI!!smut!!fem! Reader x Suguru; pussy inspection; degradation; jealous (but totally not toxic) Suguru; orgasm denial; hinted power dynamics; reader is more or less a brat; spitting; Suguru is almost a soft dom? It was supposed to be just smut but idk (PWP)

“Crawl”

You stared at him blankly, “Now,” Suguru added, brows raised- a smirk wide on his face as you drop to your knees.

“I’ll be back late, don’t wait up on me Su’”

A nod he passed mindlessly—“Sure thing babe- just lemme know if I have to pick you up and don’t get wasted, send me a message if you change locations and-”

A heavy pause settled in, you walked in skittishly—a bashful grin on your face, “This ok?” Question which referred your dress in place.

Mostly, it wasn’t ok—definitely not appropriate in the way the small little satin piece hugged your body, so short Suguru was sure you would flash somebody after two drinks.

But it was Halloween—every girl’s free pass at being a whore.

A sigh Suguru let out, “it’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous…”

Your smile, guilty, only spread further, “..but?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Nothing, just take care ok?” A step towards you and a turn of his finger to give him a spin—chuckling as you twirled excitedly and then hugged him—he was very sure it would be a long night.

15 missed calls, 25 messages with the same connotation of “are you ok?” And “where are you?”

A single slurred reply to you 40 messages with a “suguwu :)):) m’ kay. Pck me up im 20?”

And with all obviousness, it wasn’t well received at all—so evident in the way tension hung heavy in the car, your seat belt properly holding you in place—his piercing gaze, and the certain placement of his hand on your thigh that kept you as sober as possible.

“Mm sorry,” you slurred out again, head lolling to the side to look at him—stuck at the way his jaw clenched at your words.

Not a word he passed, not a word after that, did you.

And hence, ride back home was quiet, awkward and…in some way, scary.

Click- the door fell shut, locked, entrapping what was of you and Suguru alone in the house.

And just so suddenly, every stitch in the hem of your flimsy red dress began seeming interesting—“What did I tell you?”

You winced and groaned, internally at his tone—“The fact that I trust you to- to, gods,” he paused as if searching for the right words—but you saw it, the switch in his eyes as they darkened just the slightest—“To leave the house dressed as a cheap little whore, one thing I asked for. Your fucked out lil’ brain can’t even do that?”

You stood there in the middle of your apartment, frowning and loosely, berated as a little kid, it seemed.

“Mm’ sorry Su’ it’s just- the girls-”

A sharp glare from him, enough to make your excuses die down your throat—“The girls this and the girls that right? Why was there nobody when I picked you-”

“-I ordered them all Ubers,” you muttered under your breath, a silence resting again.

“And you couldn’t one for yourself, why?”

You paused, hesitated—never once looking at him, “I thought…I thought I had you so…”

That was when Suguru took notice of the pout you held—the one you did all the time, The one he mostly loved.

“Besides,” you began—attention strained on the memory as you thought hard, “I’m not a child to be taken care of, or someone who’ll get lost-”

What you had assumed would quieten everything down only seemed to uproar a side of him you barely saw.

“Excuse me?”

You gulped, hard—“well yeah-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped, moving all so close—“You were down right freezing and shivering when I pulled up, I don’t care what your girls do but your tits were almost hanging out, like a damn slut. Hell, why did you have those 20 dollar bills stuffed in there?”

You almost wanted to chuckle at the last part- it would make for a funny story, but the look on Suguru’s face screamed that it would have to wait till at least, the next day.

“I was alright,” you scoffed, a hand pushing him away—not a budge that it caused in his stance, “The bartender…he was nice- didn’t even let no one come near our drinks and- and even offered me lemons after closing and-”

“-woman,” Suguru interrupted quick, a long sigh withdrawn, “it was me who offered you lemons,”

You waited—a pink tint already dusted your face, ears burning at his words, “oh.”

He sighed again, seemingly recollecting his thoughts as you bit your lip—gods how he adored you—especially when you wobbled slight, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling yourself into him, head resting in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled softly, against his body—his hands resting on your sides, “I know you’re a big girl alright? I know you can look after yourself,” he pulled away slight, a kiss landing on your forehead, “but it’s my responsibility too you know? And it was majorly annoying to have you gone like that,”

A nod you passed, again an apology mumbled except this time you were met by the shake of his head.

“No you’re not,” he mumbled, “you do this a lot you know?”

And you do, not informing him of the late night work sessions and what not, not informing him on time of a date cancelled, he was rightfully tired.

“Now, here on I’ll just punish you doll, you can deny it and we’ll go off to sleep and deal with it another time or you can be a good girl, my good girl and take everything because frankly, I’m a little too mad to sleep right now,”

You looked into his words, it wasn’t a bad idea, particularly, you would of course never utter a no.

But then, you knew what it entailed, you knew how it ended last time, how embarrassing but then just how much you loved it too—a nod, all the affirmation provided.

“Strip,” a command from there on, “quick,” he added, eyes boring into your form as he did so.

And strip you did, it wasn’t anything new but just the way your fingers trembled, as did your thoughts as you pulled down the satin dress down—Suguru’s groan was loud, sounding throughout the apartment—your breasts well out easily, “No bra?” And you wanted to snort at the obliviousness of the question, of course, no bra.

“At least tell me you’ve got your panties still on,” you licked your lips, face warmed up at his words—it wasn’t anything new, but then why did that certain tone of condescension feel just so right?

Suguru held back another groan as the white g-string came to his view, the one that he bought, “such a slut,” he whispered.

Over the couch, he motioned you—the sound of his tongue clicking as you stepped forward.

“I’m sure only good girls get to be with dignity,” there on his face, he held a grin which you wanted to slap away too—but all to no avail.

“Crawl” everything in his voice assured you that a brat was not what he would appreciate tonight.

You stared at him blankly, “Now,” Suguru added, brows raised- a smirk wide on his face as you drop to your knees.

It was simply embarrassing, in the way your hips swayed a little as you moved, all that was your dignity remained flitted to that small piece of clothing that you knew Suguru would probably tear away.

Your gaze remained downturned, too ashamed, humiliated to even look him in the eyes—but just one glance and you’d see that amused smirk, the satisfied expression on his face as he took in the sight displayed for him.

You halted near his feet- a ginger lick of your lips, unsure, uncertain on the sequence to be followed, tugging on the hem of his pants in a confused manner.

“Hm? Don’t know what to do? My, and here I thought the big girl was all so smart to do as she pleased,”

You let out a loud whine at his words, startled a little too as he squatted down to your level—“sh,” he muttered, pressing a finger to your lips, “all I want to hear tonight is an actual apology,”

Another nod, tersely you snapped your eyes away, knowing that’s as all you could do tonight.

He hummed along as well, getting up and motioning you with a finger too, “on the couch please doll,” and you were sure what was to come here on.

Across the arm rest you lay, biting your lip—so exposed, so vulnerable and to think he hadn’t shed a single piece of clothing himself.

His fingers were gentle in the way they touched you, you knew he wasn’t mad—but you knew you’d also end up crying by the time he was done.

They traced you gently, over your back, feathery touches to your spine—tickling almost, he bent down just at that too, down to your ear, “Feeling ashamed hm?”

A hum was all to add to his words as you lay yourself easy, tension ebbing away with the way he massaged you—“you know,” he began, “you should be more ashamed of your actions, acting like a brat rather than being ashamed of your pussy and bare ass on display,”

Just at that you wanted the couch to engulf you, you knew that he knew you did—that was the purpose, “You deserve some punishment eh?” A squeal you let you as his pinned you inner thigh, pushing it apart—“should get your pretty little girlfriends too eh? Make em watch since all of you seem like a bunch of sluts to me,”

All in good humour, you reminded yourself, but a small pout found it’s way along your features, as it always did when Suguru got degrading.

“15 spanks,” he mused, “just pink enough right?” — the sentence was ended with another pinch, 15, you but your lip—there would be something more to it.

“15 and you thank me for each, yeah pretty thing? Your pretty head can do that f’me tonight?”

you bobbed your head, not daring to even turn your head and look at him once.

A patient quiet settled in, your body relaxed further—Suguru smiled wide as he looked at you, so perfect for him, “remind me why you’re here sweetheart?”

The sweetness in his vice was sharp still, condescending in every way, “b-because I uh- I…I was out late? Didn’t—did not call o-or inform you-ah!”

-smack!

Your words simply fell short as the slap landed hard on your ass, so sure to grab it right after and and squeeze—Suguru pulled back, and waited.

“Thank you, Suguru,” you sighed, and you waited right after, expecting the next hit.

“We can stop if it’s too much-”

“-I’ll take it, wanna be a good girl, please i-”

A sharp slap on your right cheek and then the left, aimed carefully, accurately proportional, “atta girl,”

“Thank you,” you groaned at his words, eyes clenched shut, surprised in the way he chose not to hold back in midst of your words—but then, typical Suguru.

Just so, many a times Suguru landed the flat of Palm down on your ass, dusty pink to a rosy one, the process was slow as your backside gained its hue, so pretty.

18 spanks in, Suguru never spanked just the amount he promised, always more—the 19th spank sounded like a crack against your warmed up ass, you didn’t bother showing your gratitude.

A small pause, Suguru chuckled, “nothing? Why don’t I just-” a sharp pain elicited in you bottom half as another slap sounded in the room- a hard spank on your pussy, just hard enough to have you gasping.

“Thank you,” you mumbled out—tears forming at the brink of your eyes now,, form slumping onto the couch, exhausted and spent, sore from the position he’d had you hold so long.

“Bet you are, especially from all this wetness,” another slap on your pussy, “getting wet from your punishment?” Another slap, the tears threatened to spill, at this point, “that’s how sorry you are?”

You wanted to scream at him, thatyou were sorry but it was Suguru and this conversation was nuts to begin with so you remained your quiet, the pout slowly turning to a frown.

“On the couch, legs wide apart,” scrambling to your feet, you detested the way he chuckled as you grabbed onto him for support, the booze never helped and the way you were all so sore from hefty time spent in that uncomfortable position, nothing helped at all,, but that was fine, Suguru was gentle in the way he helped you settle.

“Just a small inspection, ok doll?”

The words and the fate of it came crashing down on you fast.

You gritted your teeth at his words, you knew what that meant—he would find your arousal, shame you for it, punish you maybe and you loved the process, every bit of it.

Sprawled across the couch, feet planted to your side onto the couch, while Suguru rested in the place between, warm breath tickling you, making your hole clench around nothing.

“If I slip these panties down,” you’re weren’t sure why he even bothered asking, the wet spot was all so apparent, “will I find you wet?” Even so, you lay audacious—a shake of your head, his smirk widened.

Fingers hooked into the waist and of your g-string, he pulled quick, not a second wasted , he’d been wanting to do this all evening.

An amused raise if his brow, eyes stuck at the string of your juices that worked its way from your pussy to the gusset of your flimsy panties.

There, finally, in all its glory, your pussy lay glistening with arousal under his gaze—“liar,” he grinned as he stared at it hungrily, “such a fuckin’ liar,” he repeated, almost in a daze.

Subconsciously though, your hips rolled, almost lifting to feel his touch, another set of clicking sounds, “don’t act like a cheap whore, you think I’ll just touch your pussy like that?”

Your eyes watched him, confused, as they stared down at his form in between your legs, kneeling for you, hair tied back.

“Need to see if this pussy’s still worth it babe,” and soon enough, everything made sense—a whine of disagreement rose through you, a glare from him acted enough a filter.

“Please, I’m sorry-”

“-prove it doll,” was all he muttered as he dove his fingers onto your pussy, mindful to only cause discomfort as he prodded at your folds, no more or less.

“Let’s see…” he snickered, “gods,” he chuckled, “think I gotta clean all of this before I can even start eh?”

Your eyes bounced around ditzy, you wanted just him, anything—“but the question is do we do this the right way and I wipe you clean? Or…” and all before the statement even came to its end, Suguru had dived in, pressed his hot tongue flat against your folds, basking in the gasp that you let out.

A sharp inhale you took as he pulled away just as fast, his eyes stuck onto yours, “I think cheap whores like you shouldn’t get the better end of the stick so…” with that, you cursed internally at the box of wipes that Suguru and you kept on the coffee table all the time—you cursed as the pulled out three tissues with ease.

“It’s supposed to cause discomfort so be prepared for that but if it hurts or is too much, let me know, ok?”

You nodded at his words, nervousness flickering on your face and he chuckled, squeezing your wrist slight—little comfort that it provided.

The first dab was ginger, as if testing his boundaries, soon came the second and then the third—until Suguru was easily navigating and cleansing you, almost felt infantilising.

How so very humiliating indeed.

“That’s your apology hm?” The smile jo longer rested on his face, “look at only me when I’m down here,” he added, noticing the slight hang of your head and almost closed off eyes.

“Such a naughty girl that you are,” he mused, “am I to believe you got this turned on from a spanking? Or was it something your girls did hm?” A sharp smack that ended on your hardened clit, he stroked it a little while he was there, “how absolutely pathetic doll,”

Shame blanketed you slight, not covering all of what you wanted for you still remained absolutely naked and open on for him, a satisfied hum he passed, tossing away the second tissue after dragging it from your slit all the way down to your other hole.

“Now that I begin inspecting my girl,” he chuckled at the pout you’d held the entire while, “you brought this upon yourself baby,”

And you had, but particularly, Suguru did think you held up better than most times.

You watched as he eyes your pussy, unsure of how to embarrass you further—he grinned, “my my, it’s so pink underneath all that slick hm? Almost as pink as your sweet ass,” with that he landed a sharp slap to your ass, just as a reminder—giggling at your squeal.

Thick fingers spread apart your folds slowly, tracing it over your pussy lips—a tickling sensation, “is your cunt clean enough to be used hm?”

You let out a sigh as he pulled at your folds, making sure to not once lay a finger on your clit—yet accurate enough to just pull back the hood of it.

“Is it clean enough that I can use your little hole now as a cum dump?” His fingers patted down onto your bare cunt, relishing in the wetness that seeped out your hole—“maybe you don’t deserve it all hm?”

With that, Suguru spit on your cunt, the wetness only ever grew as he Smeared it around, “had to make sure,” he snickered mischievously, “that this pussy’s still mine.”

You wanted to whine and groan, shove his head into your pussy so he eat you until you cried—but you know, you knew all too well that any attempts would only get your hands tied and mouth gagged with your soiled panties.

Suguru hummed, snapping his fingers, “eyes on me doll—now, I think, from the outside, you’re ok,” he smirked, “but I’d need to check the inside too right?”

You nodded at his words mindlessly, of course anything he said would he correct, “you’re lucky I’m not mad at ya, would’ve made ya bounce on that dildo of yours till ya’ cried,”

And by now, your patience was running low—Suguru was a tease, apparent from the way your clit itself twitched for his contact, your hips rolled and hole clenched uselessly—you were dying to fight back.

But you wouldn’t, because Suguru demanded a good girl tonight.

A finger moved into you slow, very slow, hips bucked only to be pushed down harshly by Suguru at that—“Take only what I give you,” he warned, loving the feel of your walls clenching about his finger.

You were to watch him, sure but nothing mattered anymore as your head fell back—“please,” you whimpered, “just a little more.”

He smiled at the way your face contorted about his thick finger, slow as he moved it about, a circular motion and then pushing it against your walls before pulling away entirely.

The slick coated his finger just as before, only this time He brought to his mouth still, tasting you right there and humming.

“Good as always,” he muttered, eyeing carefully your ministrations, “please Suguru,” you cried out, “touch me p-please,”

Tricky slope.

Suguru was going to touch you anyways, of course he would but your statement only ever pushed away the ebbing orgasm he would’ve provided.

“Of course, my love,” he grinned—slyly before pushing in two fingers roughly into your hole—loving just how you gasped and mewled about it.

Then again, nothing mattered to you anymore.

"S-S—Suguruuu, harder... please. Moremoremore!" your begs fell in a hoarse voice.

“A sweet spot already?” A toothy grin he held as he pumped the two fingers into you slowly, loving the way your eyes rolled back at his touch.

Your thighs were spread out wide on the couch — raised now in the air as he leaned his body close, reaching knuckle deep and curling his thick fingers up into a gummy spot that made you shudder and grip a cushion.

"Ouh, Fuck! Sugu—"

“Ah, ah, ah, only apologies I said, right?” His tone was so soft even so, almost heavenly that you felt.

You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he hits deep strokes and massages his fingertips into your gummy walls— sticky juices are all over his hand because of all that cleansing he worked out of you earlier. Suguru smiled to himself, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate getting that couch wet with your juices in the morning—to hell with that.

You looked cute, as you gasped and moaned in his fingers—he took note of the ever present pout on your lips, oh how he wanted to fuck it out of you—but then, the mean thrusts diluted down to gentle strokes soon enough, boy was he soft for you.

Suguru was doting still, knowing that no way you could’ve taken his cock without prep—struggling with even his fingers tonight, he loved being bigger than you.

Bigger, faster, harder and merciless as they pursue your orgasm.

"Gonna cum and make a mess for me again? Yeah?"

"Yes! Please, pleasepleaseplease — make me cum!" you whisper frantically against him.

He chuckled when you moan, pumping his fingers faster and faster, fingering at your clit with his other hand to tip you over the edge.

“Nothing unless I allow it,” he announced finally, ah—that was why he’d been lenient earlier—gods how you hated him.

He studied you intently as your orgasm built up, if only that was his focus onto other things— maybe if he would have had the same determination in general as he does now when finding your G-spot, then he perhaps wouldn’t have struggled with daily life issues as much as he had to.

Suguru's dampened forehead rested against your thighs. He felt the radiating heat of your pussy in this proximity. Those dark eyes never stop staring at you, making sure you're as flustered as possible even in this pleasure-drunk state.

"Fuck... you're gushing..." he says in awe, " 'promise to lick my fingers clean after, yeah?" he rasps against you.

"Yes yes yes!" you say. He's pretty sure that you would have said yes to anything right then; you were so blissed by the way his fingers worked into your soaking hole, by the way they stretched you open just right.

The apartment was filled entirely, with the sound of your gushing pussy squelching with his thrusts—so tempted to attach his tongue onto your cunt but he knew you’d never be able to control yourself after that.

But to tease you was the goal—just slightly, almost a feathery touch he lay on your clit as he began rubbing it again, “shit doll, I do think your pussy’s worth turning a cum dump into,” you groaned at his words—mind almost mush as you chased your high, clenching at his fingers—until he pulled out immediately.

Until your high entirely ebbed away.

A confused and betrayed look you passed him, “wa-wait what? Suguru-! I-”

He simply giggled at your state, slapping your ass one more time as he got up and away, “you’re an idiot if you thought you’d be cummin’ t’night,”

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

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sigma-alpha-writer-chad · 1 month ago

Text

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

[CHAPTER TWO]

CW: Marijuanna use

“Chris, I’m not so sure about this,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I follow my cousin down the forest trail. “Things are just going to get super awkward.”

“Then just… don’t talk to him. Can’t be that hard, right?” Chris responds. I can tell that he knows as well as I do that Josh himself would do whatever it takes to get under my skin in any given circumstance.

“It’s his house,” I retort.

“It’s Hannah’s get together,” he replies. “She knows how you guys are, hopefully she’ll get him off your ass.” I say nothing. "Just..." Chris stops walking and turns around to look me in the eyes.

"What?"

"Just please try to get along?" He asks. His expression is serious and pleading. I sigh, heavily. Why wasn't he on my side? Why can't Josh try to get along with me?

"Sure, Chris," I relent. "I'll... do my best." Chris smiles at me appreciatively and continues down the trail. I hate this. I don't want to be walked over, I don't want to be the doormat or the verbal punching bag for whoever was in a bad mood that day - especially Josh's. But I didn't want to ruin everybody else's good mood, either. If no one else sees a problem, why am I so upset?

The autumn trees towered above us, providing shelter from the warm sun – although some warmth would be appreciated as the temperatures dropped lower by the day. I’d only been to the Washington house before for some rager of a graduation party, when the sky was dark. With the sun, however, the gorgeous forest could make me almost forget I was on a death march to the lair of my enemy.

Chris and I finally make it to the porch of the Washington home. He turns to me, as if to say “after you!” I hold my arms tighter to my body and shake my head. So, after a roll of the eyes, he knocks. There’s a muffled call from the other side to let us know someone was coming to let us in. Just my luck, Joshua opens the door.

“What are you, Chris, a vampire? Gotta be invited in, now?” Josh jokes, a wide grin on his face.

“I’m with Jordan,” Chris says, as if clarifying. Josh looks over Chris’s shoulder to see me. I swear I see his smile widen, and I can only think that can’t be good.

“You can leave her outside, Chris, no worries,” Josh snickers as he steps aside, holding open the door for Chris and I. As I walk past, I nod and offer a gentle thanks. “You’re welcome, pet.” Immediately, Chris sighs as if he knows whats coming. He knows I want to say something – but the guilt I feel in my chest for ruining every good mood keeps me from speaking. Instead, I just give him a hurt, frustrated look.

Josh seems surprised. Next to the shock, though, is a flash of an emotion I can’t quite catch. It’s Josh, however. So I didn’t much care. I walked into the living room, where everyone else was waiting. Hannah stands up and hurries to greet me, walking straight past Chris to pull me into a hug.

“Ahh, thank you for coming! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!” I pause. “For inviting me, I mean. You have a lovely home.” I give an awkward bow, staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re so fucking weird, what are you doing?! I scold myself. I know they’re thinking it, too, but I once again push the negative thoughts away.

“We’re gonna head down to the basement,” Hannah says, smiling as if I hadn’t just made the most awkward air possible. “Do you smoke?” I’m taken by surprise. Chris, Josh, and everyone else walks past Hannah and I and towards the stairs.

“Smoke?” I repeat. “What, like, weed?” Hannah giggles.

“Yes, like, weed,” she says.

“Yeah, sometimes. Not often, though.”

“Great! We have weed.”

“Sounds… good.” A part of me is relieved. Maybe with something in my system I’ll be able to relax for once. Especially around Josh. I feel a burning anger in my chest at just the thought of him. Hannah takes my hand firmly and begins to lead me to the stairs the others had gone down. I make a mental note that the twins both really seem to like holding hands. Not that I minded. It just wasn’t that common for someone to take your hand in theirs when showing you around their house.

We get to the basement, and it’s noticeably colder. And massive. My eyebrows raise as I look around the room. There’s a huge TV mounted on the wall, a large circular wooden table in the middle of the room on a round, purple rug. Around the table for seating were two L couches, and on the couches were Hannah’s friends. Not everyone, though.

Matt, Sam, and Jess were missing, leaving just Ashley, Mike, and his girlfriend Emily, who was casually sitting on his lap. Next to Mike and Emily, Chris unsurprisingly had sat next to Ashley, leaving the other couch to Hannah, Beth, Joshua and I. For a moment I wondered if this could be some kind of set up. Hannah quickly left my side to sit next to Beth on the furthest end of the couch. On the other side was, of course, Joshua, rolling a joint. And, of course, the only open seat was next to him.

And he knew it.

I didn’t want to be rude or, again, make things awkward. And so, I sat next to Joshua Washington. It’s here, watching him focused on something that I suddenly realize how tired he looks. The underside of his eyes were dark, as if he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.

“Like what you see?” Josh smiles, eyebrows raised. I frown in response.

“No.” I immediately regret this as the vibe is instantly brought down by my rude answer. “I mean, like, not NO, but I just mean I didn’t -”

“Calm down, girl, I’m just… just JOSHING ya,” he laughs. I roll my eyes but I can’t help the small smile that hints at my face. Josh’s head snapped to his sisters, mouth wide open in a smile as if he can’t believe I was capable of anything but a straight face or a frown. “I made her smile!” He whisper yells. I hate it, but it makes it harder to keep the smile down. Somehow I manage not to fully grin.

“Alright, you first, Mike,” Josh says, handing the dark haired boy the joint. Mike takes a long drag and shotguns it to Emily. My lip twitches, threatening to make an obvious sneer at the strong PDA.

“Ohh, spicey,” I hear Josh laugh. “Chris and Ashley next.” Ashley and Chris immediately chime in in a chorus of no’s. Chris takes the joint and takes a hit. I notice his hands are shaking. The idea of his lips so close to Ashley’s is more than it appears he can take. I can hear Josh continue to laugh to himself as Ashley is handed the joint.

“So, what’s the plan for the winter this year?” Beth says, her face shining with excitement. “Are you guys coming?” Mike and Emily look away from each other, their teasing and giggling cut short by Beth’s question. Despite the unhappy look on Emily’s face, she answers. Ashley passes the joint to Hannah.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon,” she smiles, but it looks forced and sarcastic, even. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as to why she’s here – and why does she keep getting invited? Mike nods next to her, a smile on his handsome face. He seems much more laid back and agreeable than his girlfriend, who I notice is looking me up and down. “Do you have a problem or something, weird girl?” I’m taken aback at the sudden confrontation and I sit up straight. My heart begins to pound. Hannah passes the joint to Beth.

“No, I don’t. I was just -”

“Staring at me like some sort of creep? Yeah, I saw. I saw you look at my man, too. What’s up? You want him?”

“What? No, I -”

“You can’t have him. So eyes off, bitch.” I clench my jaw, hard. I swear I almost cracked a tooth.

"Emily -" Mike starts, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and embarrassment. He shoots me a worried, apologetic look.

"No, it's fine," I say, staring Emily directly in the eyes. As I expected, she takes it as a challenge. "I looked at you, yeah. When you're sucking face like that it's hard to ignore." Beth passes the joint to Josh.

"Well, keep looking." Emily hisses, throwing her arms around Mike and holding his neck tightly. I wonder if he can breathe. I clear my throat and look up at Chris. His eyes are already a bit droopier, but through his mild high he still looks back at me with a sort of pity and embarrassment that I just can't stand.

Josh hands me the joint.

"Go on, take a big drag, babydoll," Josh grins at me. I frown at him. He did nothing wrong, but I still can't help but feel like he's making fun of me in some way. Still, I ignore the nickname. I know he's just trying to get under my skin, yet I can feel the tips of my ears heat up in embarrassment. I side-eye Josh as I put the blunt in between my lips. He's staring at me as if he's studying me, his ever present smile missing from his face, eyes half closed. He couldn't be high that quickly, could he?

As he suggested, I take a long drag, adding a bit of 'coolness' by French inhaling.

"Oh, so cool, I've never seen that before," Emily says sarcastically. I ignore her as I pass the weed back to Mike. Mike doesn't look at me as he takes it, instead glaring at Emily. I can tell he's embarrassed by her cruelty.

I don't hate Mike. He's never been my favorite person in the world, but he's never done anything to me or that I've seen that could make me dislike him other than his habit of... Well, women. However, I could tell that despite her attitude Mike saw something beneath that and really did care about Emily. He was handsome, I could never deny that. Thick, dark hair and brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and a decent body to match. The more time I spent near him the more I understood that he really wasn't a stereotypical 'high school hot guy.' Mr. Class President. He locks eyes with me and gives me an awkward smile. I can sense an apology in his expression. I want to return a look, but I quicky shift my gaze before Emily catches on to the telepathic conversation.

As we continue the rotation, the conversation of their winter plans continues on. I listen, but I don't contribute due to my lack of invitation. I look around me, and everyone looks happy and content. I can feel my own high start to creep up under my eyes, and I can't help but smile to myself. It was pleasant. Even though these were people I didn't yet consider friends outside of Chris, Beth, and Hannah, I didn't feel completely out of place in this moment. I felt content for the first time in a long time.

An hour passes.

"Hey, I'm sorry, where's your bathroom?" I ask. I start to think I might be greening out and I needed a moment to myself. Josh turns to me, a dopey grin on his face.

"The bathroom?" He asks. I smile back at him.

"Yeah, the bathroom."

"What for?" Josh scoots closer as if to hear me better.

"I'm getting anxious, I think," I admit. This surprises me. Why would I tell Josh I'm anxious? So he can make it worse? Instead of poking fun at me and telling everyone to look, his smile fades slightly and his eyebrows twitch in what looks like concern.

"Anxious? Are you ok?"

"I'm greening," I say, widening my eyes for a moment to exaggerate. Josh takes my hand.

"I will escort you to the bathroom," he says, standing up. "It's kind of a maze, this house." He's smiling at me. Even under the influence I can't help but search for any sign of malicious intent. My anxiety spikes further. What does he have planned?

"Can't you just tell me how to get there?" I ask, though I stand with him anyway.

"Yeah, but you'll get lost."

"Joshua Washington," Hannah starts, her tone that of a parent warning their child. "You better not upset her or I swear..."

"Yeah!" Beth chimes in.

"Awe, guys, give me a chance! Give me a chance..." He trails off, beginning to lead me to the stairs, still holding my hand. When we're further away, I inform him that my hand was still in his. "Oh, can I just keep holding it? Your hands are just so soft." I say nothing. How do I respond to that? Is this some sort of joke?

"Your hands are calloused," is all I can muster.

"Oh, man, is that bad?"

"No."

We stand in front of a door. I assume it's the bathroom but I can't think clearly. Josh just stares at me. I ask him if this is the bathroom. He says nothing. He's expressionless.

"You seem anxious around me, do I make you anxious?"

"Is this the bathroom?" I ask. Silence. My heart is pounding. What is he trying to do? Embarrass me? He's staring into my very being. Of course he makes me anxious.

"...yeah." He steps aside, opening the door for me. He suddenly seems sober. I feel a pang of guilt as I walk past him and into the bathroom. Why? I stare at myself in the mirror, studying my own features. I'm not wearing any makeup, but I kind of wish I did. Maybe some mascara, or something. My cheeks and the tips of my ears were a light red, my flustered state obvious. As I observe myself, my mind wanders to the people out there, in the basement. Chris seems to really enjoy their company. Outside of Emily and Josh, I do too. Yet I still can't help but question it all.

Did they see me as a charity case? They never invited me to anything before, no texts after I'd moved. The friendship or my classmates was utterly and completely out of nowhere. Why did Beth and Hannah invite me? My pupils are dilated. I look tired. My eyes water. Will I be invited again? I think I hope so.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Are you ok in there?"

"It's been like, 10 seconds."

"It's been like, 10 minutes, J." Had it really been that long? There was no way. J? I find myself wondering where such a familiar sounding nickname came from.

"Are you timing me?" I ask.

"No," he answers. "I'm not." A beat of silence.

"Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" Josh doesn't answer. After a moment of silence, he knocks again.

"Are you ok in there?" I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration, opening the door and stepping out. Well, trying to. Josh is standing directly in the opening and I bump into him, hard, but he doesn't stumble. He grabs both my shoulders as if to hold me still, keep me from falling over. I only notice now he's taller than me by a few inches, my eyes in line with his mouth.

"Yeah," I say, frozen in place. He's touching me

Why is he touching me? Why? His grip loosens, noticing how tense I am.

"You were just in there for a while, and," he paused, taking a step back. "I dunno, sometimes people cry at get togethers or whatever." I chew on my lower lip. I had almost cried. "It would've been a major bummer, or whatever."

"Do I look like I was crying?"

"Yes." I'm taken aback, lifting my hands to my face. Sure enough, my cheeks are wet with what can only be tears.

"How would - how would you know?" Now it's his turn to be embarrassed. He takes another step back from me as he looks at the wall to my left, shifting his weight. Is he nervous?

"...I've seen you cry a lot."

"Oh. Right." The silence is deafening. "Let's go back downstairs." I wipe my face dry with the sleeves of my sweater. "Thanks for showing me where the bathroom is." I try to change the subject. He says nothing, only offering me a nod this time. He doesn't take my hand.

"Next time you're on your own." He huffs, turning on his heel and walking quickly away from me and back towards the basement. I'm taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude but I bite my tongue. I promised Chris I would do my best to get along with Josh, and I intended to keep it. But damn was it difficult.

Back into the basement, Josh is already sat and smoking. I furrow my eyebrows. Did he have to be high to tolerate my presence? I shake the thought from my head and take my place next to him. He shifts, scooting slightly further away from me. My chest fills with a deep, rumbling anger, and I grip the sides of the couch tightly. I didn't do anything to him.

"You'll be coming, right, Jordan?" Beth asks. I snap out of my thoughts and lean forward to see her over her brother, who stiffens.

"What? Coming to what?" I ask. Beth smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. I can hear Emily snicker and Mike sigh at her in mild frustration, saying her name as if in a warning - again. Chris is watching Josh, his eyes seemingly scanning for something.

"Our parents own a lodge up on a mountain," Hannah answers for Beth. "In the winter we all spend a few days up there. No parents, if you were wondering."

"And you're invited," Beth butts in. "It would be rude of us to talk about it so much in front of you if we didn't plan on taking you along." I'm passed the blunt, but I don't hit it this time. I'm high enough.

"Uh, well, I don't know," I start, chewing at my bottom lip. I glance at Josh, who is staring at me intensely. The sudden eye contact kind of freaks me out. I look at Chris, who shrugs at me, his expression wide eyed and clueless. Emily rolls her eyes, and the twins look at me expectantly. "I... I don't think I would be any fun." My heart pounds. I don't want to spend time trapped on a mountain for days near Joshua Washington. I would expect to wake up one morning with my mattress somehow moved outside as a "joke."

"What? Why?"

"I'm just not a partier." I gulp. I look again at Chris. I can't tell what he's thinking. Does he want me to come? Does he think I'll ruin it for him? For everyone?

I think I would.

"Jordan, please. Just think about it?" Hannah pleads, standing up from her place on the couch to crouch down in front of me like a parent talking to their child. I can feel Josh's gaze boring into me, telling me I'd better not dare to say yes. My eyes snap to his, my head unmoving.

If you come to the lodge I will make your life hell.

The anger in me bubbles and burns to the point of pain, my jaw clenching. I can't help but think about how many times I'd missed out on something because Joshua Washington would be there or even nearby. How many tears have I shed over this asshole? And now what? Now he thought he could control me?

"Jordan?" Hannah repeats. I know she can see the staring battle between Josh and I.

"You know what, Hannah?" I start. Something in Josh's expression changes. The warning is still there, but now there's something else. Shock? Admiration?

"Yeah?" Hannah starts to smile, though there's a hint of nervousness to it. I wonder if regret ever creeped into her head.

Fear?

I don't know. But I know I'm done with agreeing to be put down and pushed around for the comfort of others. If Joshua Washington wanted a battle he sure as hell would get one, though this time there was no winning for him. I'm not laying down anymore. I turn my head so I'm fully facing him. His expression shifts further towards surprise and realization that something was different.

"I'll be there."

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

Whoo!! Sorry for the wait! Thank you for your patience.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby

#josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x you #joshua washington #until dawn #until dawn x reader #x reader #jordan = y/n

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ellethespaceunicorn · 7 months ago

Text

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.”

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale.

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him.

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil!

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time.

1. Clark is single.

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy.

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor.

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands.

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black.

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it.

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear.

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips.

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time.

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway.

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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waterhousse · 1 year ago

Text

Invisible String

pairing: college!ellie williams x reader

summary: a week in your life where someone leaves you an anonymous note and you also meet a cute girl in one of your classes.

author’s note: this is un(necessarily) LONG, so take your time to read it. i hope you still enjoy it !! <3

• • • •

monday

you were in front of your dorm, digging for your keys in the mess of your backpack when a high-pitched voice yelled your name. of course, it could only belong to you best friend, blair. you prepared yourself to receive one of her bone-crushing hugs.

“there you are! i sent you like a million messages!”

“everything okay?” you asked before pulling away.

“yeah, i just have a little proposal.”

you narrowed your eyes at her, “what are you scheming?”

“you see, my gorgeous boyfriend is throwing this massive party on friday—”

“immediately no.”

“oh, c’mon!” she grumbled. “it’s been like five months since the last time we went out together. i miss my drunk little partner,” she pouted, pinching your cheek.

you let out a laugh, softly pushing away her hand out of your face. “i’m not exactly in a party mood, blair. i’m sorry.”

you made a poor attempt to avoid eye contact, but the weight of her stare was a difficult one to ignore. you looked back at her, already defeated.

“it’s nothing serious, but i’ve just been feeling a little insecure. and i’m okay,” you were quick to clarify, “i just want to stay in my dorm and watch a movie or something. it’s only temporary, i’ll feel better soon. you know i always do,” you opened the door and waited for her to inside first.

“how many times do i have to tell you you’re gorgeous for you to believe me? look at you!”

“blair—”

“i’m serious.”

“i know you are. thank you,” you replied softly. “forget about it, let’s just go inside. i’m tired and i wanna sleep.”

your friend had a worried look on her face, but decided to drop the subject, “still no roommate?”

“nope,” you grinned, closing the door behind you. “i’d invite you to live with me but you’re too busy staying at your boyfriend’s,” you teased her.

“can you blame me? his apartment is the size of a million of these dorms combined,” she exaggerated. “besides, he’s the sweetest man to ever exist. he’s every girl’s dream.” she sighed dreamily as she threw herself on the unoccupied bed. you raised your eyebrows at her, to which she rolled her eyes. “if he were a girl you’d be after him, too.”

after your friend bragged about her boyfriend for a few more minutes, both of you ended up falling asleep, totally drained from your long, boring classes. you woke up two hours later thanks to blair’s boyfriend who called her wondering where she was.

“wanna go grab some coffee? he’s paying!” blair offered with a big smile, which you returned.

“maybe he is every girl’s dream after all.”

you and blair headed outside shortly after, gossiping about people you didn’t even know. suddenly, your sleepy eyes spotted something strange on the door, more specifically, on the whiteboard you had outside. someone had left an anonymous message on it.

the prettiest girl on campus (and of everywhere else too) i wish i could come up with the courage to talk to you. guess i’ll just admire you from afar

ps: not in a creepy way

ps2: seriously sorry if this is creepy

you stared blankly at the message, reading it over and over again.

“did you do this?”

“hold on, i’m looking for that one tweet i saw. i’m telling you, she’s cheating on him—”

“blair!”

she finally looked up from her phone, “what?”

“did you do this?” you pointed at the board.

her expression comically changed from confusion to extreme excitement, eyes widened and mouth hung open. an over exaggerated gasp left her lips before she grabbed you by the shoulders.

“oh my god! you have a secret admirer!”

“no, i don’t. that’s probably not for me. someone must’ve mistaken my dorm for somebody else’s.”

“your name is literally on that board. besides, you are the prettiest girl to ever exist, so, i’m pretty sure they’re not mistaken.” blair kept looking at the note, meticulously analyzing it. “let’s pray it’s not a man who wrote this. imagine if he confesses his feelings for you in person. he’d be in for a very awkward rejection.”

you tried to downplay the situation by telling blair it was probably just a joke, but on the inside you couldn’t stop wondering who did it. as you walked down the hallway, you discreetly checked the whiteboards from the other dorms. all they had were random doodles and people’s names, nothing else.

tuesday

you were currently sitting under a big tree, admiring the sunset. birds chirped softly at the distance, adding even more magic to the beautiful scenery in front of you, but even the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded you wasn’t enough to calm your racing mind.

the anonymous note was certainly the most interesting thing that had happened to you in a while, but you were a serial overthinker. besides making you feel extremely curious about the identity of the person who wrote it, it had also made you spiral about the way you acted towards strangers.

being content with your small circle, you never put any effort in starting conversations with someone you didn’t already know. you felt as if you didn’t need anyone else in your life, but was that a mistake? what if the mystery person tried talking to you but you acted uninterested? what if they attempted to make eye contact but you were too busy staring down?

the most important question spinning around your head was how many special bonds had you lost simply because of your behavior?

as your silent crisis continued, the sun began to disappear on the horizon until it was fully dark. your eyes quickly found the moon, with the sky being clear, you could see her perfectly.

you took out your phone to take some pictures of the satellite, as well as everything else around you. the trees, your coffee cup, an empty bench and an orange cat that was laying next to it.

just as you were taking photos of the cute animal, someone crouched down next to him to pet him. that was the moment you saw her. a girl you had never seen before, but who managed to catch your attention right away. she was simply beautiful. many people, places, art pieces and more had been described with that adjective, but in your mind, that unknown girl was the first being in history to be worthy of it. you were completely mesmerized.

you put down your phone and watched the sweet moment develop in front of you. you could tell she was speaking to the cat, who seemed to really enjoy her company. the girl got up after a few minutes, giving the cat one last scratch between his ears before leaving. a frown instantly appeared on her face the moment she looked away from the animal, making you chuckle. she looked absolutely intimidating, the total opposite of what you had just witnessed.

your eyes followed her until she disappeared from your sight, but her image stayed on your mind for the rest of the day.

wednesday

you were having one of those days when everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. you had slept through your alarm, didn’t have time to have breakfast, couldn’t find your books and forgot your jacket on your way out. one may think it couldn’t get worse, well, unfortunately, it could.

you felt your soul escape your body when the, feared by many, physics professor laid his demonic eyes on you. you were certain you looked insane; hair a total mess, completely out of breath and slightly shaking from your nervousness.

“class started ten minutes ago,” his strident voice echoed in the big classroom. you didn’t even need to look to know everyone’s eyes were on you.

“i know,” your voice pathetically quivered. “sorry.”

“for your information, if you have somewhere to be you wake early enough to make it on time. it’s not rocket science, all of your classmates did it.” when he got no reply from you, he sighed. “there’s only one more seat available at the back. lucky for you, you’ll be sitting next to one of my best students. maybe you could be friends, she could teach you how to get here on time.”

with your eyes glued to the floor, you walked straight to where the professor pointed to without making a sound. you tried your best to ignore your classmates’ stares, but they lacked discretion.

fortunately for you, a nice surprised awaited you. the student the professor mentioned was none other than the girl you had seen the day before. she was even more beautiful up-close, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. she had just witnessed your most embarrassing moment. still, her eyes radiated kindness.

“this guy’s an idiot. you were only a few minutes late and didn’t even miss much. he was just struggling to turn on the projector the whole time,” the girl whispered at you once you sat down.

you were ready to reply with just a ‘yeah’, but the crisis you had the day before stopped you.

“he’s the worst,” you replied instead. “i always feel on the verge of puking whenever he looks at me,” the regret you felt after saying that was immediate, fearing it was too much information.

you felt yourself relax at the sound of her laugh, and of course it had to be the most heavenly sound you had ever heard.

“i’m ellie williams,” she leaned in, reaching over for your hand. you introduced yourself as your brain started mindlessly picking up details about her, like the fact that she had many freckles scattered all over her face.

you held her gaze for a few seconds before looking back at the professor, who had begun talking about punctuality. he sent you multiple looks during his whole speech, you found it hilarious. he looked like as if his eyes were about to pop out of his sockets.

trying to act as normal as possible, you grabbed your water bottle and took a sip in an attempt to calm down. you realized that was a huge mistake once you glanced at ellie, who was trying her hardest to hold in her laugh. you almost spit out your water when she made eye contact with you, causing you to choke.

“shit, you alright?” she leaned in, now fully laughing, and patted your back.

“yes— yeah,” you managed to say in between your coughing and laughing. you looked around, noticing how quiet the classroom had gotten. yours’ and ellie’s voices were the only thing cutting through the deadly silence. “sorry, i choked on water— sorry,” you apologized to the professor, who was impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

“may i continue, ladies? is that okay with you two or should i wait for you to be done?” neither of you answered, so he let out one of his classic sighs. “as i was saying…”

the moment he looked away, you covered your face with your hands, trying to muffle the giggles that were escaping your lips. ellie was in the same state as you, which only made things worse.

“if he didn’t hate me before, he sure does now,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with amusement. “why does he have to be such a dick? it’s not like a choked on purpose. i could’ve died,” you dramatized.

actually, it’d be very rare to die from choking on a liquid, ellie almost said, but she didn’t want you to think she was a smart-ass. instead, she just kept laughing.

silence grew between the two of you as you came back to your notes and tried to pay attention to the class. ellie’s eyes inevitably fell on you again, trying to come up with something to say to keep the conversation going.

“you know, i, personally, wouldn’t take advice from a person like him, but i think he’s right about us being friends.”

“yeah, i think he is,” you warmly smiled before looking down at your notes again, unable to hold her gaze.

having fun in physics class seemed impossible at the beginning of the semester, but it had actually happened. you and ellie talked the whole time, which made the minutes go by faster than expected and also annoyed everyone around you.

“see you next wednesday? try to be on time, though. i don’t want him to kill you in front of the whole class.”

you laughed at ellie’s words and nodded, “see you next week.”

i really hope it’s sooner than that, the thought appeared in your mind without warning. you watched ellie go, a shy smile appeared on your lips when she glanced back at you and caught you staring.

the rest of the morning felt boring and uneventful in comparison to physics class, so you were really excited to finally be back at your dorm. your tired eyes fell on the whiteboard, no message from the mystery person. you tried to ignore how weirdly disappointed you felt and went inside, telling yourself it had been, probably, a one time thing.

thursday

shyness had never been a problem for you but, still, socializing wasn’t really your thing. if there was a chance for you to avoid interaction with strangers, you took it, so it was certainly weird seeing ellie at the dining hall and feeling an intense need to say hi. good thing she wasn’t exactly a stranger, right?

she was sitting alone in one of the most secluded tables, eyes focused on her phone. without giving it much thought, you walked towards her, but you began second guessing your decision once you realized she probably wanted to be alone. your steps became more hesitant the closer you got to her and just as you were about to turn around and leave she looked up. her surprised expression quickly changed into a delighted one.

“hey,” she greeted as she took off her headphones.

“hi,” you smiled back as a feeling of panic started setting in. you had absolutely no idea of what to say to her.

“you can sit if you’d like,” she offered, gesturing to the seat in front of her.

“you’re not busy? i can leave if you alone if—”

“no way,” ellie shook her head and, with her foot, pushed the chair towards you before looking up at you. “c’mon, sit.”

the moment you sat down, she leaned forward. you, instinctively, leaned back, but kept your hands just a few inches away from hers. you bit the inside of your cheek, trying your hardest to hold her gaze.

“so, how you’ve been? had any nightmares about our beloved professor yelling at you?” ellie asked, amused. you internally thanked her for starting the conversation.

“i can see his spit flying at me in slow motion whenever i close my eyes,” you replied, making ellie laugh. “that was definitely the last time i’m late to class. i hate attention, if i have to go through something like that again i’ll just die on the spot.”

ellie’s smile hadn’t faded since the moment she saw you, “just try not to be late to any of his classes, he’s the only one who gives you shit for that,” she adviced. “i knew he was insane because i’ve heard about it, so i tried to get on his good side by always being early. i considered sitting at the front, too, but that was too much.”

“you always sit at the back?”

“yeah, i don’t like having people behind me. for some reason, it really freaks me out knowing someone is staring at the back of my head.”

you hummed in response, mind deep in thought. you never looked at the back when you entered the classroom, in fact, you kept your head down, but ellie had always been there.

how many special bonds had you lost simply because of your behavior?

“hey, my friend’s boyfriend is throwing a party this friday, i was wondering if you’d like to go.”

“cool, yeah, of course,” ellie quickly replied.

“yeah?” you beamed, biting down your bottom lip.

“yes,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking up again, “can i bring a friend?”

“sure,” you smiled. you took out a pen and a post-it from your backpack and wrote the address before sticking it on her hand. your eyes wandered further and ended up on her watch. without a second thought, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to you, tilting your head to see the time. “shit, i gotta go to class, but i’ll see you friday?”

“see you then,” ellie said, but she didn’t want you to leave, and you didn’t want to go either. she hesitated before calling your name, making you turn around. “can i walk you to class?”

the question lingered in the air as you processed it. it had caught you completely off guard, which ellie could tell just by seeing your expression. fearing she messed up, time began moving slower and slower to her until you finally accepted her offer with a huge grin on your face.

ellie released the air stuck in her lungs before catching up with you. anyone with a pair of working eyes could see how nervous the two of you were, except yourselves. you were too busy focused on not to embarrass yourself by tripping and ellie was trying to regulate her breathing. neither of you dared to talk because it would make it too obvious, but ellie finally broke the silence once you stepped outside, asking you what class you had.

you had always hated small talk because you feared there’d be a point in which you wouldn’t know what else to say, but that moment never came with ellie. the conversation flowed smoothly between smiles and chuckles from the both of you.

“oh, look!” she suddenly said, casually grabbing you by your shoulder as if she had done it a thousand times before. you followed her line of sight and gasped when your eyes spotted a familiar orange cat. it was the same one you had seen ellie pet when you didn’t even know her yet. “wanna go say hi?”

“how is that even a question?”

ellie was the first one to approach him, crouching down in front of him. you copied her action a second later, already eager to pet him.

“his name is orange. original, right?” ellie sarcastically asked, gaining a laugh from you. “i didn’t name him, by the way. he has a tag with his name.”

“hi, little guy,” you pouted, scratching the back of his head.

“he must live nearby because he’s always here,” ellie told you. “he’s missing an eye, but he’s still cute, right?” she glanced over her shoulder.

you two were close. closer than a simple girl like ellie could handle. your perfume was all that she could smell, you were the only thing she could look at and her own heartbeat was the only sound she could hear.

“he’s the cutest,” you chuckled.

you stayed there for a couple more minutes. ellie told you about the first time she saw orange and you told her about the pets you had back home. it was such a sweet conversation, both of you using soft voices to not scare the cat away.

“alright, let’s go. i don’t want you being late to another class,” ellie told you as she stood up. “see you later, dude,” she waved at orange. surprisingly, the cat meowed back. “we’re best friends,” ellie jokingly bragged as both of you began to walk again.

“do you think he’ll accept me as a friend, too?”

“oh, absolutely. he loves you already.”

you ended up getting to class just in time, but you wouldn’t have cared if you were late. if it were for you, you would’ve skipped it just to keep hanging out with ellie.

“see you tomorrow, then?” you asked, hopeful.

“see you tomorrow,” ellie confirmed as she took a few steps back in your opposite direction, her eyes never leaving you until she fully turned around.

friday

it had been a while since you’d last chosen an outfit with someone in mind, wondering if they would like it. it took a while, but you finally settled on one. it was neatly laying on top of your bed.

“she’ll totally fall in love when she sees you in that,” blair’s voice cut through the silence, startling you.

“i’ve no idea who you’re talking about,” you obviously lied.

“maybe the girl you’ve been talking to me about since you met her?” blair guessed, “or is it the mysterious person who left you that note on monday?”

“it’s not weird that i still think about who could it be, is it?”

even if you had many other things to think about, the identity of the secret admirer, as blair had called them, was something that you were still curious about. it was difficult not to overthink every interaction you had with strangers, especially those who you’d catch staring or were friendlier than normal with you.

“are you kidding? if i were you, i would’ve asked every single person on campus if they knew anything about it,” she sat down on your bed, next to where your clothes were and handed them to you with a wink. “both ellie and the secret admirer will die when they see you tonight.”

a pathetic giggle escaped your lips on the way to the bathroom. you quickly changed into your chosen outfit, a rare feeling of exciment growing on inside you.

once you arrived at the party, you wasted no time and started looking for ellie. there were many familiar faces in the already drunken crowd, some of them even waved at you, but you didn’t even notice. between the lights and the loud music, you could barely pay attention to your own thoughts.

“what was she like again?” blair asked you, trying to help you find her.

“hot,” you replied, still scanning the room.

“right, thanks. that really helps.”

you laughed, “she’s—” your description was cut short when you suddenly locked eyes with her across the room. there was someone by her side, a girl who looked familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint where you knew her from. “she’s here.”

ellie leaned into her friend’s ear to say something, but her eyes never left yours. you tried to remain calm as you watched her walk towards you, looking annoyingly attractive.

“hey, there you are,” she greeted once she was close enough for you to hear her.

“hi! you came,” you beamed. “this is blair, my best friend. blair, this is ellie.”

“it’s really nice to meet you,” ellie shot a quick glance at your friend before glueing her eyes on you again.

knowing that that was her cue to leave, blair gave you a squeeze on your arm, “if you’ll excuse me, i have to go find my boyfriend. enjoy the party,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you before disappearing into the crowd.

“shouldn’t you call your friend over?” it was a genuine question, not wanting ellie to ditch the person she was with for you, but you also needed to know if she was really just a friend.

ellie looked over her shoulder and let out a chuckle, “i think she’s pretty busy.”

confused, you looked behind her. all of your doubts were cleared once you spotted her, she was making out with some girl.

she was definitely just a friend.

“oh,” you let out a short laugh. “good for her.”

ellie nodded at your words before looking back at you again. you were still distracted by the show ellie’s friend was giving and were completely oblivious to the spell you had put her under.

“you look really good,” she blurted out.

you broke into a sweet smile at the sudden compliment, “oh, thank you. you do too. really, really good.”

the fluttering of your heart made you want to burst into giggles, feeling extremely giddy. it was obvious how flustered you were, but seeing ellie in the same state as you made you feel slightly better. you would’ve never guess she’d be the type of person who blushes.

“wanna go for something to drink?”

you nodded at her question before reaching for her hand with the excuse of not losing each other on the way to the kitchen. ellie’s fingers quickly intertwined with yours as you started to lead the way. you offered many apologizes to the people who you accidentally bumped into, the place was absolutely packed and it was difficult to move. the kitchen was no different, you had barely any place to walk.

you grabbed two beer bottles and handed one to ellie, who looked a bit flushed from the previous interaction.

“next time someone doesn’t move after i say ‘excuse me’ i’ll just hit them on their ribs,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “where did they put the bottle opener?” you muttered to yourself, but ellie seemed to have heard you.

“here, let me help.”

you passed her the bottle and watched as she opened it against the table, taking the top off immediately.

“impressive,” you praised her before taking a sip. you grimaced at the taste.

ellie leaned back on the kitchen island, keeping her eyes on you. there was an amused smirk on her lips, “you don’t like it?”

“not really. i mean, it’s not like i hate it, but i only drink beer when there’s no other option,” you shrugged your shoulders. “i think there’s more to drink over there but there’s too many people and i don’t feel like getting trapped between sweaty drunk dudes.”

ellie swept her gaze over the kitchen before walking towards one of the many cabinets. “there’s gotta be something else in here,” she said as she opened every single door. “there it is!” ellie turned around and your eyes fell to her hands, she was holding a bottle of vodka. it was almost empty. “shots, anyone?” she offered.

a guy who was at the kitchen cheered, “hell yeah!”

ellie frowned, disgusted. “not you. go get your own bottle.”

a laugh escaped your lips at how disappointed the guy seemed to be, he immediately left after ellie’s words. “that was kind of mean,” you chuckled lightly.

ellie couldn’t tell you that she actually blew him off because of how shamelessly he checked you out the moment you entered the kitchen, so she just shrugged her shoulders. “he didn’t find it. open up,” she commanded you, placing a hand on your chin. you opened your mouth and felt how ellie poured the liquid down your throat.

“gross,” you wrinkled your nose. you grabbed the bottle from her hands and copied her action, softly grabbing her by her chin. she drank what was left of the vodka and you left the bottle on the counter behind her.

ellie smiled at you as she swiped her fingers across the corner of her lips. she gave you one last glance before walking past you. you watched her open more drawers and cabinets.

“psst, come here,” she called you over.

“what did you find?”

ellie looked around to check no one else was listening. you laughed at how secretive she was being. “look,” she whispered, she had found a box of chocolate covered strawberries. “shall we?” she offered, eyebrows up.

“absolutely,” you accepted, laughing. “but not here. let’s go to the balcony. it’s closed but i know where they keep the keys.”

ellie pushed herself off the table she was laying on and grabbed your hand, “i’ll lead this time, i know where it is.”

you stared down at your hands, blindly trusting her to guide you.

“how do you know where it is?”

“well, i kind of looked everywhere for you when i got here,” she admitted. “thought you stood me up.”

“sorry, i took forever to get ready,” you apologized, embarrassed.

“don’t worry, it was totally worth it,” ellie shot a quick glance at you as she said that, knowing it would mess you up. her personality changed from shy to flirty in a matter of seconds, so you didn’t really know what to expect of her.

you let out a sigh of relief once you were on the balcony, grateful for how muffled the people and music sounded from outside. “i remember why i haven’t gone out in months now,” you rolled your eyes.

“not a party girl, huh?” ellie let out a chuckle, leaning against the wall. she offered you a strawberry, which you gladly took.

“not lately,” you replied after taking a bite.

“so what made you go out tonight?”

you shrugged, “it was an impulse,” your answer was honest, but it was missing the rest of it.

because i wanted to see you again.

“it really helps you’re here, though,” you clarified. “actually, it doesn’t only help, you’re the only reason i’m enjoying this.”

“same here,” she smiled at you before looking up at the sky, she got lost in her thoughts for a moment before speaking up again. “it sucks that city lights don’t let us see the stars properly.”

you scoffed at her words, “i know, but hey, at least we have the moon,” you pointed at the satellite. “she never disappoints.”

there had been a few times were you felt as if the universe was on your side, somehow listening to you. that night was the moment you confirmed your theory because, coincidentally enough, the lights went off in what it seemed to be the entire city. a collective scream was heard from inside the apartment, along with multiple curses.

you took out your phone and turned on your flashlight, accidentally pointing it at ellie’s eyes.

“ow!” she let out, squinting her eyes. you couldn’t help but laugh, to which she complained.

“sorry, didn’t mean to blind you. especially now,” your excitement was enough to spark ellie’s curiosity.

“what do you mean?”

“come with me,” you grabbed her hand for the third time that day, knowing you’d miss doing that when the night came to an end. you still hadn’t gotten used to the weird, almost electric feeling that tingled in your palm whenever you touched her.

you guided her through the disappointed multitude, letting out apologies every now and then and also pushing those who didn’t move after you politely asked. you couldn’t blame them, though, they had used the darkness to their advantage and were shamelessly making out.

the air was ten times colder on the terrace than it was on the balcony, but neither of you cared because once you looked up you forgot about everything else. well, except maybe each other.

the view was completely breathtaking. without the light pollution, the sky looked straight out of a painting.

“it’s like looking straight at space,” you whispered, eyes sparkling with excitement. you had only seen the stars like that once in your life when you were a kid. it was as magical as you remembered, and the person you were sharing the moment with only made everything more special.

“i know,” ellie gazed at you before looking up again. “it blows my mind.”

as the night went on, you talked about many different things whilst laying on the floor; how your lives back home were, your friends, your families, favorite movies and songs and of course, with both of you being astronomy students, space-related stuff. you two were interested in each other’s point of view about everything, so you discussed many different subjects, enjoying the freedom to be incredibly nerdy about it.

“our lifespan is way too short. i mean, think about it. look at how many things have changed and advanced in only a hundred years. can you imagine how the world will change in, like, a thousand years?”

“maybe in fifty more years scientists will discover the key to immortality and we’ll be able to see everything,” ellie shrugged her shoulders. “or we could try to discover it ourselves once we graduate.”

you let out a laugh, “such an easy thing to do,” you sarcastically said. “i’m in, but maybe we could try with something easier, like, finding extraterrestrial forms of life, perhaps?”

“apparently, they are already here,” ellie pointed out.

you turned your head at her, “we’ll be the first to make friends with them, then. we’re pretty nice people, they’ll warm up to us.”

“deal,” she smiled at you, inevitably glancing at your lips for a second due to the proximity.

you kept enjoying each other’s company. there were moments in which neither of you spoke but, surprisingly enough, you didn’t care. even silence was fun with her.

neither of you had experienced a connection as strong as the one you had, especially in such a short amount of time. you didn’t question it, thought, it just made sense.

after a while, the power came back. the city was illuminated and the music from the party was back on. you two sat up, a little saddened that you couldn’t stargaze anymore.

“it was fun while it lasted,” you commented, ready to return to the apartment. you picked up the beer bottles from the floor, along with the empty box of chocolate strawberries.

“we can always go camping,” ellie suggested. “the sky will look even better than tonight.”

“i have zero survival skills, so you’d be in charge of everything. i can interest you with some random facts, though.”

“sounds good,” she laughed as she stood by the door and opened it, waiting for you to go inside first. the walk to the apartment was quiet, hating the fact the that night was coming to an end.

the loud music welcomed you again, people were even crazier after having to wait half an hour for the power to come back. it surprised you to see the same amount of people, apparently, none of them had left.

“i know it’s a friday night but, how the fuck has your friend managed to not get kicked out yet?” ellie leaned into your ear.

“this building is mostly occupied by other students, so they are probably at the party, too,” you explained, raising your voice a little so she could hear you.

everyone was euphorically dancing, making up for the lost time. you glanced at ellie before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the improvised dance floor. she instantly followed you, completely mesmerized.

“oh my god, there you are! i thought i was imagining things when i saw you earlier,” a familiar voice said from behind you. it was tara, you shared some classes and had been partners in a project once. “you look so good.”

“oh, hey, tara. this ell—”

“yeah, hi,” she interrupted you, only glancing at ellie for half a second. “could you walk me to the bathroom? i– i don’t know where it is and i feel pretty sick.”

your eyes flickered between the two girls. you obviously wanted to stay with ellie, but tara had put you in a really awkward position.

“uh…” you hesitated, “where are your friends?”

“they already left,” she frowned. “c’mon, babe, come with me? please.”

the nickname she used echoed in ellie’s mind.

“i can’t, i—”

“you should go. i should check on my friend, so…” ellie’s lips were in a straight line, but she forced a smile when you looked at her.

“why don’t you come with us?”

ellie would’ve agreed if she hadn’t seen the nasty look tara had given her. she wasn’t intimidated by her in the slightest, but the thought of being a burden and indirectly forcing you not to leave her alone was enough to let you go, even if she didn’t want to.

“no, really. i need to go see if she’s okay. i’ll find you later.”

you didn’t have time to respond, because you had already been dragged away from there. tara started chatting your ear off about stuff you didn’t care, you could only think about ellie.

“do you want me to call you an uber or something?” you asked her.

“why would i wanna leave?”

“you said you were sick and you’re pretty drunk, you should go home.”

“oh, no, silly. i live in this building, maybe you could walk me to my apartment?”

you refrained from rolling your eyes in front of her and realized that the sooner you got rid of her, the sooner you could go back to the girl you actually wanted to be with.

“c’mon, let’s go,” you said. on the way out you messaged blair to find ellie and tell her you’d be right back, to which she answered she was on it.

you took the elevator to her floor. you could tell tara wanted you to initiate a conversation by the way she was looking at you, but you couldn’t care less about her. she hadn’t noticed, apparently, because she started talking about god knows what as you walked behind her, completely zoned out.

“wanna come in?” she asked you once you were outside her apartment. her intentions were crystal clear but, as flattered as you were, you couldn’t help but feel completely uncomfortable.

“uh, no, thanks,” you awkwardly said.

“you sure? i’ve got—”

“yes, tara, i’m sure. i gotta go, i’m sorry. you’ll be okay, though, right? see you around,” you took a step back with each word you said, by the end of the sentence you were in front of the elevator. you heard tara let out a very confused ‘bye’ before the doors closed.

you impatiently tapped your foot against the floor, wondering why was the elevator taking so long. once you were back at the party you immediately searched for ellie, but she was nowhere to be found. instead, you saw blair, who had a worried look on her face.

“hey,” you approached her. “did you talk to ellie?”

“i couldn’t. i saw her leave with that girl she was with like a minute after you texted me,” she grimaced. “what happened? why were you with tara?”

you sighed, “i’m so stupid,” you groaned. “tara found me and she put me in this really difficult spot, so i had to walk her to her apartment because she was pretty fucking drunk and feeling very sick, or at least that’s what she told me, and i did it as fast as i could, but—”

“okay, okay. stop. why don’t you text ellie and—”

“i don’t have her number.”

“try instagram?”

“i tried finding her on instagram the same day i met her and i couldn’t,” you awkwardly confessed. “she probably thinks i blew her off for stupid tara.”

“hey, calm down. i’m sure you’ll see her soon.”

sadly, that soon never came. saturday, sunday, monday and tuesday went by painfully slow. there was no sight of ellie.

wednesday

you were a hopeless romantic, even if you didn’t admit it out loud. deep down, you knew that meeting ellie wasn’t a coincidence. it could’ve happened at any given moment due to being classmates, but it did when you needed it the most.

it was unexpected, but as said before, you felt as if sometimes the universe was on your side, listening to your deepest desires, the ones you didn’t know needed to be fulfilled.

you had never felt a connection as genuine as the one you had with her. everything seemed easy with her, making you feel you’d known her for longer than a week.

that doesn’t happen often, especially to you, so you would do anything in your power to fix things.

you were currently in physics class, counting down the minutes for it to end. you had to fight the urge to look at the back to see if ellie was there.

the thought of her being mad at you for practically abandoning at the party you invited her to made you sick. you also feared she didn’t care at all, which was a hundred times worse.

once the class ended you waited for her outside, trying to calm down your racing heart. the majority of students had already come out. you had just started to lose hope of seeing her when you finally heard her voice. she was saying goodbye to the professor.

“hi,” you nervously smiled when she was in front of you. her looking as good as always didn’t help you calm down at all. “i’ve been hoping to see you since friday. i wanted to apologize—”

“oh, you don’t have to do that. i get it. i saw you leave with that girl, tara, was it? it’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything—”

“no, no. i didn’t leave with her,” you clarified. “she wasn’t feeling good so she asked me to walk her to her apartment, which was in that same building, and i only did it to get rid of her. i know i sound like a major dick, but i wanted to go back to you as soon as possible,” you confessed, heart beating a hundred miles per minute.

“you did?” there was a smile hiding on her lips, you could tell by the tone she used. she was amused and obviously enjoyed seeing you flustered.

“yes, and i told blair to find you and tell you that i’d be right back, but when i did you had already left and i had no way of communicating with you, so…” ellie was quiet, so you continued. “i’m sorry.“

it felt like an eternity until she spoke again. “i’m sorry i left.”

“it’s not your fault,“ you mused. “it’s tara’s.”

“it so is,” ellie let out a chuckle. “i’ll fuck her up.”

you laughed, which made ellie’s stomach flip. both of you became numb to your surroundings as you stared into each other’s eyes, dumb smiles plastered on your faces.

“hey, about that paper that we have to do on electromagnetism. would you, maybe, uh, want to do it with me?”

“yes, i’d love to,” you grinned. “we could meet at the library tomorrow. do you have any classes in the morning?”

“just one, it ends at 10.”

“see you at 11?”

“yeah,” ellie nodded.

“oh, i almost forgot,” you said before taking out your phone. ellie curiously watched you type something before you handed it to her.

an adorable smile formed on her lips when she saw you were asking for her number. you had already typed in her name with the alien emoji next to it.

“thank you,” you mused when she gave your phone back to you. you instantly sent her a text so she could save your number on hers, too.

“see you tomorrow :)”

ellie looked up from her phone, mouth upturned. “see you then.”

tuesday

“the library’s closed,” ellie announced the moment she saw you.

the lights were turned off and there was a sign on the door that read ‘closed for reparations’.

“awh, man,” you complained. “why didn’t they tell us sooner—”

“actually, they did. i just checked and they sent us an email about a week ago, we just don’t check our inbox,” ellie interrupted you, grimacing.

“oh, our fault then,” you shrugged your shoulders. “um, maybe we could go to my dorm? i don’t have a roommate so nobody will bother us,” you offered.

“woah, i’d give everything to have my dorm all to myself,” she groaned, tilting her head back. “why don’t you have a roommate?”

you didn’t realize you had already started walking together, mindlessly leading the way to your dorm.

“i had one at the beginning of the semester, but then she dropped out or something. they told me i’ll probably get one next semester, so i’m enjoying it while it lasts,” you explained.

ellie huffed, “my roommate is a music producer. she’s pretty considerate but sometimes she has to listen to her songs without headphones,” she rolled her eyes. “i think i’m gonna find a job and move out to an apartment.”

“you totally should. i’d do it too if i were capable of balancing work and college,” you told her. “you’re welcome to stay at mine’s for as long as you want and whenever you want, by the way.”

“really?” she grinned. “you’re already asking me to live together? i haven’t even met your parents, yet.”

you rolled your eyes, a playful smile growing on your lips, “fine, my offer is off the table, then.”

“oh, no. now it’s too late. i’m moving in tomorrow morning.”

ellie spent the entire walk planning an itinerary for when she moved in with you, which basically consisted in eating breakfast together, go to class, come back and have lunch together, have more classes, come back and have dinner together then have a sleepover every night.

“sounds fun, huh?”

“super fun,” you chuckled as you opened the door for her. “guests first,” you stepped aside, inviting her in.

“hey, this is practically my dorm, too, now,” ellie joked, curiously looking around as she scratched the back of her neck. she was trying her hardest not to show how nervous she actually was, but the fluttering on her stomach made it really hard.

you were in the same state as her, trying not to freak out. your eyes discreetly checked every corner of the room, making sure everything was in order and there was nothing embarrassing laying around.

ellie chuckled to herself when she noticed the ceiling was decorated with a bunch of stickers that glowed in the dark. stars and planets were placed all over.

“i know they’re childish,” you wrinkled your nose, visibly cringing.

“are you kidding? i love them. these will be the first thing i’ll buy for my new place,” her gaze fell from the ceiling to your eyes, a genuine smile spreading across her lips.

ellie kept looking around your dorm, grabbing stuff that caught her attention. it was funny seeing her ask for permission each time, looking back at you and pointing at the object she wanted to check out.

you took out your laptop from your backpack and sat down on your bed. it immediately bummed you out when you remembered that you had to do an assignment and weren’t just hanging out for fun.

“i’m gonna create a google drive file so we can both edit it later in case we don’t finish it today,” you informed her.

“yeah, that’s a good idea,” ellie replied, focused on a bracelet she had found on your desk. then, she continued snooping around your things, sometimes mumbling cool and i’m going to borrow this.

you checked the questions you had to answer and immediately sighed, “i’m completely lost.”

“want me to explain it to you?” she offered and you obviously accepted. ellie looked at the big whiteboard behind her and grabbed a marker from your desk. “okay, so you know that the earth’s core is mainly composed of liquid in the outer core and solid iron in the inner core?”

you tried your hardest to keep your attention on what she was saying, but the task turned impossible. her voice sounded muffled and you could only focus on how good she looked. you let out a few yeahs and rights when you thought it was appropriate, but the truth was that you didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“and this field has existed for at least three billions years, which is nuts, right?” you ears managed to make out of all the things she was saying. you saw how she laughed, clearly enjoying talking about the subject. you probably would too if you could be capable of actually listen and process what she was saying.

you watched as she continued to write and draw stuff on the board at the same time she explained something to you, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her.

“that’s about it, got it?” she asked, turning around.

“uh…” you let out, not being capable of forming an actual sentence.

ellie chuckled, amused, “you alright?”

“yes, it’s just—”

“was there something you didn’t understand? i can go over it again,” ellie kindly offered, but you could hardly hear her over the loud beating of your heart.

you weren’t really planning to, but you stood up. it was as if you were on autopilot, there was something else controlling your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. you walked closer to ellie, who looked confused.

“if i’m being honest, i didn’t listen to a word you said,” you confessed, smiling guiltily. “i swear i tried to, but there was something else on my mind.”

“what’s that?” ellie asked in a whisper, eyes scanning your face. you were extremely close to her.

“i don’t think i can go another minute without kissing you,” you softly confessed, looking up into her eyes. her pupils were dilated and a light blush had started to color her cheeks.

“no one is stopping you,” she replied, wholly captivated by you.

not even a second later, you crashed your lips into hers. ellie joyfully giggled, but that didn’t stop her from hungrily kissing you back. her hands found their way up to the sides of your face while yours ended up tangled in her hair.

ellie broke the kiss first, but your lips were still touching. “i’m still deeply disappointed you didn’t listen to my physics lesson.”

“i’m sorry,” you chuckled. “i heard some parts, you were great. i learned a lot.”

ellie smiled before leaning in again, bringing you impossibly closer to her as she gave you a breathtaking kiss. you melted against her, already eager for the kiss to end just so you could do it over and over again.

“this would’ve happened sooner if it weren’t for tara,” ellie joked, reaching over to grab your hand.

“i’ll kill her next time i see her,” you were standing so close to each other that you replied with a whisper.

ellie frowned, “you’re not seeing her again.”

“oh? i would’ve never guessed you were the jealous type,” you teased her, placing your arms on her shoulders again and bringing her even closer to you. ellie looked even better than before. her lips were reddened, her hair was a mess and her eyes had become even more hypnotic.

you could’ve stayed admiring her for hours, but a glance over her shoulder was all it took for you to wake up from your trance. you walked past her to take a closer look at the whiteboard she had used. it wasn’t what she had written that caught your attention, but the handwriting itself. it looked incredibly familiar.

your mind quickly came up with a crazy theory, which ellie’s expression confirmed the moment you looked back at her.

“you were the one who left me that note on my door?”

ellie’s confident and teasing demeanor was long gone. she looked panicked. her heartbeat accelerated significantly and she felt as she was running out of air.

“oh my god,” your mouth fell agape, a smile creeping up on your lips. “you did!”

she covered her face with her hands, letting out a groan, “you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“why?”

“it’s embarrassing! we didn’t even know each other when i did it. it’s weird—”

“it’s sweet!”

“it’s weird,” she repeated, not being able to look at you.

you smiled fondly at her, reaching for her hand and giving her a squeeze, “it really helped me, you know? it was as if you knew i needed it.”

ellie grimaced, “well, i actually kind of did…”

“what do you mean?”

she sat down on your bed, making you sit next to her. you didn’t let go of her hand. instead, you played with her fingers in an attempt to calm her down.

“i visited my friend that day, her dorm is across the hall. i was just about to leave when i saw you coming. i panicked, so i hid and accidentally overheard what you were saying to your friend,” she admitted. “i meant what i wrote. i’ve thought that way about you ever since i first saw you. it seemed like the perfect moment to tell you, at least indirectly.”

“but why didn’t you tell me in person? or at least, talked to me sooner.”

“i’m not as brave as i look and you’re fucking intimidating.”

you let out a laugh in disbelief, “me, intimidating? look at you!”

“no, look at you. you’re way to beautiful for me to just come up to you and tell you that. who could have the guts?”

“oh my god, shut up,” you hid your face in your hands, feeling how your heart fluttered like crazy at her words.

“i couldn’t tell you after we began talking, either. we were just getting to know each other, it would’ve been weird,” ellie stared down at your intertwined hands. “it’s still kind of weird,” she mumbled more to herself than for you to hear.

not being able to take it anymore, you succumbed to the urge of throwing yourself at her, leaving many kisses all over her face. the sound of her laugh made the butterflies in your stomach to fly all over the place.

“you’re the sweetest girl i’ve ever met.”

“don’t say that about me. i have a reputation to maintain,” she jokingly rolled her eyes. “so, be honest, you don’t think it was weird?”

“of course not. i think it was fate.”

“fate?”

“wait here.”

you quickly walked over to your desk where you had left your phone. you immediately searched for the picture you had taken of her last tuesday and almost ran to show it to her.

“is that me?” ellie grabbed the phone from your hands and zoomed in the picture.

“yup,” you nodded. “this was the day before we first talked. i was taking pictures of orange and you appeared, out of nowhere. you looked as you’d beat the person who dared to speak to you,” a laugh escaped your lips. “i thought about for the rest of the day and hoped to see you again, and guess what? i did. see? it was fate.”

ellie warmly smiled, she caressed your cheek with her fingers before bringing you closer to give you the softest kiss ever given, “i guess it was.”

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