#i hope at least one of these points has been helpful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loliwrites · 2 days ago

Text

The One You Need | seven

🎶 Rest your head here, pull me closer I'll hold you tight while you let go, girl And I could love you, if you just let me Be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, absent fathers, minor discussion of baby poop, fluff, cuddling, SMUT, repeated verbal consent, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, hickeys, mild choking, pussy pronouns, terms of endearment [sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl], female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 9.1k series masterlist | part six a/n: here’s the last chapter of this fic! it’s been a long time coming and i’ve appreciated each and every one of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. it was great fun and i hope there’re more stories to tell in the future

It was worse than you imagined. You sister really was on her own despite having a very legally married husband. It only took a day to realize she hadn’t been exaggerating the situation at all. He left for work at five in the morning after not even attempting to help with the baby through the night. Your little nephew was going through a bout of sleep regression, and you witnessed how your sister was the one who went to soothe him when he seemed to wake and cry every hour. And when her husband came home twelve hours later in the evening, he made a beeline for the couch, sat down on it and suddenly had a list of demands.

Bring me a beer. When’s dinner? Did you vacuum today? Why is the washing machine ringing? You should switch those clothes out. And after dinner, he didn’t even bother taking his plate to the sink much less being a fully-functioning adult and cleaning it – or at the very least, rinsing it off.

Your sister’s day to day seemed to be a never ending circle of soothing the baby, changing the baby, feeding the baby, cleaning, cooking, cleaning again, and laundry. How she had managed for so long before hitting her breaking point and calling was beyond you. Now carrying some of the burden, you felt resentment growing for her husband – and for all men. Was this not how your own father had acted when your mom was raising you and your sister? Was he not just as absent-minded? And if these were the two marriages you had for reference, men seemed to take the cake for least helpful and useless humans on the face of the earth. All forty-nine percent of them.

It was a big reason (but not the only reason) as to why you were dodging Joel’s calls. Your first few days with your sister had grown so much anger toward men that the last thing you wanted to do was talk to one – even if he was putting on what you now believed to be an act about being attentive and caring. For the first week, he tried calling two or three times a day, and you let each of them go to voicemail. Your sister had asked who was calling, but you shrugged and insisted it was spam. Now that you’d been with her for two weeks, Joel called less and less. Still, he called once a day at varying times, hoping to catch you in a free moment. What he didn’t realize was you had no free moments as you took some of the weight off your sister’s shoulders.

You closed your laptop as your sister rounded the couch with two cups of coffee. On the carpet in front of you, your nephew was playing with a toy that seemed to only be able to play one song over and over again. With rather poor timing, your phone rang right as you were being handed coffee, and so it was impossible for you to hide the screen which very clearly read “Joel” and not “Spam Risk”. As you went to click the side button and send the call to voicemail, you caught a mischievous glance from your sister.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My neighbor,”

Your sister hid her smile by taking a sip from her coffee. She nodded slowly and let out an acknowledging hum. “He’s spam?”

You shot her a glare, “yes.”

She nodded again, then fixated her attention on her child. “How many times have you slept with spam?”

You took another sip of your coffee before reaching forward to set the mug on the table in front of you. “Not enough to warrant him being so persistent,”

“Must’ve left quite an impression. Why aren’t you answering?”

You pondered how far into this conversation you wanted to go. If you wanted to go into it at all. That childhood in the family home had really done a number on you. Shit, you were sure it had done a number on her, too. That the years of walking on eggshells and trying to figure out what type of mood mom and dad were in had done seemingly irreparable damage. That you couldn’t get yourself to let someone in. That in the times that you’d tried, it wasn’t enough. It ended in heartbreak – both blindsided and not.

And deciding none of that mattered because your sister was in her own sewer of shit, you decided to go with a simple answer. “I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him,”

If she’d been your best friend who you told everything to, she would’ve called bullshit. But it was just your sister, so she nodded in false understanding. You wondered if anyone would ever really know you.

With your morning coffee behind you, you started off on a laundry list of chores – which surprisingly enough, didn’t include actual laundry today. Surely today would blend into all the other days spent here. And would culminate in you growing so frustrated with your brother-in-law that you’d eventually just remove yourself from the room and disappear into the guest bedroom that at this point should’ve just had your name on it.

It was like clockwork. Completely infuriating that you could predict it so easily. He came home, ignored his child, and plopped his ass in his recliner, demanding a beer and asking why the living room hadn’t been vacuumed. You wanted to smash the glass bottle over his head and scream that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. Not when there was an infant that needed attention and caring for.

And because you knew you were bound to say something you’d regret, you excused yourself from the living room early and retreated to bed with your laptop and some shitty television show you could go numb to. Even though the intent was to turn off your brain, you couldn’t stop thinking about how long you were going to stay here. A couple more days? Weeks? A month or two? Would you ever go back to Texas?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The next morning, you woke up in a sheen of sweat. Hair stuck to your cheek and forehead. And you sat up with the sheets pooled around your waist. Fuck. Two weeks and the sex dream about Joel you expected to happen in the first couple days had finally made an appearance. It would’ve been nice to get laid. Of course. But not at the expense of stringing him along. He deserved someone who could open all the way up to him. And lean on him. And depend on him. And all you could do was depend on yourself. No one else could pick up any slack for you. You could do it the best.

The baby shrieked from the other room and you knew it was late enough in the morning that he was up for good and your brother-in-law had already left for work. It was safe for you to re-emerge into the wild. Blindly reaching for the nightstand, you fumbled around for your phone, realizing it wasn’t plugged into the charger. Thinking back through the blending of days, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had it.

Padding out and seeing your nephew playing with a rattle, you waved excitedly to him. All but running over, you bent over and gave him a big, loud kiss to the head. Then you turned to finally address your sister who was already brewing a pot of coffee.

“I gotta go to the store today,”

Your sister nodded and picked up a notepad where you could see the grocery list of things she’d already added to it. She was past the point of offering to go with you as the last time that happened, it was an utter nightmare. Toting a fussy infant around while trying to move efficiently through the market was counterintuitive. You just wanted to get in and get out, and you could do that best if you went by yourself.

“Do you know where my phone is?” You looked back over your shoulder at the coffee table with no luck.

“I put it by your keys near the front door. It fell between the couch cushions last night,”

You nodded once – the sneaky couch cushion. Always the likely culprit. “I’m gonna go shower, get a cup of coffee and watch an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my little man,” you pointed at your nephew. At your attention he burst out into a toothless grin and a giggle. “And then I’ll head out for groceries,”

You were quickly learning that nothing ever went to plan with a baby. Everything was constantly derailed. The plan of shower, coffee, and TV was a nice one. But what you couldn’t account for was that halfway through the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, your nephew was going to have a massive blowout that sent poop up to his shoulder blades. Gagging and choking to keep yourself from upchucking, you ran him to the bathroom while your sister drew the bath. Getting him undressed was a task as removing his onesie meant you got some of the poop in his hair. And bathing him while also dodging the poopy water he slapped in your direction could’ve qualified you for an olympic medal. You ran for the front door as quickly as you could once he was clean again and your sister had him back in a fresh onesie.

You never thought you’d be so happy to go to the grocery store. Even if it ended up that it seemed like everyone and their mother was doing their shopping all at the same time. Didn’t anyone work anymore?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Stubborn as all hell and not wanting to make more than one trip out to the car for groceries, you loaded the canvas bags on your shoulders and forearms until they were tugging at your skin and threatening to drop everything you’d just bought on the garage floor.

Struggling to lift your hand to turn the doorknob you got the slightest of grips on it and used your weight to push the door open, while using your foot as a wedge to keep it ajar for you to slither through and into the house. It was commonplace now to enter the house as quietly as possible. The baby was a notoriously light sleeper and you’d already been guilty of accidentally waking him more than once. So sneaking in, you knew you’d made the correct decision when you heard the classical lullabies coming from the nursery. He was out. And elsewhere in the house, you could hear the kitchen sink going. Good. Your sister was catching up on the pile of dirty dishes her husband had left behind.

You huffed and puffed, willing yourself to make it to the kitchen before you dropped the bags to the floor. It seemed as though you were going to make it. A quiet, self-congratulatory cheer was halfway out of your mouth when your breath caught in your throat at the threshold of the kitchen.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, rinsing off a handful of soapy silverware, was a large, strong back with broad shoulders. Far larger than your sister’s. Joel.

Frozen, taking a moment to comprehend that he was actually, truly there, you didn’t say a thing or make another sound. But it was like he could sense someone behind him. After setting the clean silverware down in the drying rack, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you.

“Hey,” he pressed a smile at you. That charming smile you’d gotten really used to seeing back home.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he chuckled and looked down at the sink, “I’m gonna finish washing these dishes.” He glanced back up at you, “then I’m throwing a load of towels into the laundry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Eyes flicked over him. He was just as you remembered. As if two weeks had been two years and you’d just come back from war. “Where’s my sister?”

“Sleepin’. She was tryin’ to get the little guy down for a nap but he was fussin’. I told her to get some rest,”

Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes, “you put the baby down for a nap?”

He nodded, almost looking confused at your confusion. Why wouldn’t he help with the baby? Little did he know you’d just spent the last couple weeks watching the baby’s father do absolutely nothing. So without saying anything else, you ran to him. Threw your arms over his shoulders and clutched onto him. There was a keen awareness that as you held onto him for dear life, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you to him. Secure. Steady.

You sniffled and turned your face into the crook of his neck, “I miss you.”

Though he knew you couldn’t see his face, he still tried to hide a grin. Instead, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I miss you, too.” He let you go as you slowly backed away from him and wiped your fingers beneath your eyes to make sure he didn’t see any tears fall. But he stared into your eyes and smiled a little wider, helping you catch the one tear that had made it down your cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, “you were screening my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I–”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, “don’t apologize. I know.” Joel pressed another smile and cupped his hand over the back of your head to guide you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “I know I was asking a lot of you too soon. I know that,” he lowered his hands to yours and intertwined your fingers together. “I was scared you were going to run too far away from me. That I wouldn’t be able to wrangle you back. And I… pushed too hard. I know I did because I saw the same thing in your sister today. So afraid to ask for help. Like someone’s gonna think you’re a burden if you can’t do it all,”

You sniffled again and Joel raised his hand again to swipe another tear away before it could fall fully down your cheek.

“You’re not a burden because despite your best efforts, I’m falling for you. Take the trash out to the bins for you. Snake the drain when your hair clogs it. Plant flowers in the winter and pick a bouquet for you in the spring. I want to do all those things, so all you gotta do is ask me. Ask me and I’ll do anything for you,”

Nodding, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest. He scritched his fingers through your hair. All you could do was sniffle again. Because how in the hell did you stumble upon a guy like him when… “My sister’s husband is just like our dad. And I feel bad for her,”

Joel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be too hasty with a response to this one. Finally he settled on one. “Is that why you dodged me? Thought maybe I’d turn out to be like your dad and your sister’s husband?” He lowered his head closer to yours when you didn’t stir. You were just trying to protect yourself. He knew that, too. “You’re a good girl. You know that?”

You raised your head and looked up at him. Something you expected to hear more likely within the bedroom, had never sounded so innocent. Joel grinned a little wider and brushed his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face.

“A good girl. An understanding sister. And a helluva woman,”

On any other day, you would’ve blushed and hid your face from him at a comment like that. But today, you let his words rain over you. You wanted him to continue. To keep proving that he was leaps and bounds different from other men. But your nephew had other plans.

And at the sound of his crying, your sister padded out of her room and spotted you and Joel in the kitchen. She blinked sleepily, beaming at the sight of you two before she carried on to tend to the baby.

You stayed turned in her direction for a moment after she’d already left your scope of vision. But at the feeling of Joel’s hands squeezing your hips, you turned your attention back to him. “You stayin’ here, or…?”

He shook his head, “I��ve got a hotel ‘bout 10 minutes away.”

“Well, hurry up, then. I’ll throw the towels in the wash,”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

There you were. Once again. Lounging in Joel Miller’s (hotel) bed. His khaki duffle bag was on the desk pushed up against the corner of the room. A small backpack of some items of yours sat beside it. And his phone was on the nightstand beside you. That struck you as the greenest of all green flags because the phone was in striking distance should you get curious, but Joel was not. He was in the bathroom, where now, the shower turned off. You had come in together, but despite your lips on his neck with teeth grazing over it, he insisted on showering first. To get the airport off of him.

The bathroom door creaked open and you looked in that direction, awaiting him to return to your line of vision. He did just a second later. Rounded the corner out of the bathroom and stood there at the foot of the bed – a white towel slung around his hips, haphazardly secured at the front. He held a smaller white towel and scrubbed it over his head to rid his hair of dripping water.

“Now that’s a sight I missed,” he trailed his eyes over your body, splayed out on the bed. He tossed the smaller of the towels onto the desk and crawled onto the bed.

He was so close now. His position above you forced you to recline, laying down fully. Caged there between his hands on either side of your body, you lifted your head off the pillow and kissed him. Pleased that when you lowered your head back to the bed, he followed with you as to not break your kiss. His tongue pressed to your mouth in search of entry, and once you let it in, it was greeted by your own tongue.

Joel hummed into your mouth and let his hips fall down to yours so he could move his hands to your face. Cupping either side of your head, he brushed his thumbs back and forth over your cheeks. After a couple weeks of living life more closely resembling a nun, mixed with this morning’s sex dream, you felt redeemed by a makeout session. Longing and yearning paired with frenzied lips. Teeth gently tugging at soft, plush skin. Tongue vying for attention and power. Wandering hands in search of the next bit of purchase. You bucked your hips upward, dragging your mound over the bulge between his legs. That white towel was doing as many wonders as his gray sweatpants did. It felt like you were in college again, on some sad twin mattress, dry-humping a co-ed that wasn’t going to give you any amount of pleasure. This time, you knew the man you were dry-humping would.

Joel’s lips tightened into a smile against yours and he pulled his hips back to tease you… to keep you from getting the friction you wanted. He snaked his hand between you and the pillow and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of your head. With a slight yank, your head tilted backward, leaving your neck exposed, and you at his mercy.

“Joel,” you moaned, feeling the throbbing in your core intensify.

“Only good girls get to do that,” he smirked and pulled your hair a little harder. With your neck stretched out fully, he leaned forward and bit it, close to the collarbone.

Instead of letting go, he sucked on it, and you absolutely knew what he was doing… Marking you. You’d wear the bruise for a few days, hiding it like a teenager who feared getting caught with it, but who would secretly ogle it in the mirror to remember the day it was given to you.

“I’m a good girl,” you pleaded, trying to lift your hips again.

But now he moved his other hand down and gripped into your hips. Forced it back down to the bed. Too easily, you thought. “Are you? Last time I checked, good girls didn’t disappear for two weeks without a goodbye fuck,”

You pursed your lips together in a pout. That was fair. Had you not sprung your exit on him at the very last possible moment, knowing it wouldn’t amount to any sort of closure. For either of you. “I want to be one for you,”

Joel did his best to hide his smile. But you saw it crack through this domineering facade. “Yeah?”

You nodded with widened eyes and batting eyelashes. Tracing down his chest and stomach, your hands found their purchase on the top of the towel at his hips. You looked down at it for the quickest of moments. Just enough time to spot the outline of his cock beneath the fabric. Then you flicked your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Show me what kind of good girl you are,”

With a clear indication to proceed, you looked back down at his waist and curled your fingers beneath the fabric. Though it hadn’t budged from where he’d originally secured it, it became undone with very little force from you. The towel fell open and partially exposed him to you. Realizing your jaw had fallen slack, you closed it and swallowed while simultaneously pulling the towel to the side until he was completely free from it.

There was something oddly intimate about his complete nudity juxtaposed by your lack thereof. His member bobbed up and down on its own volition as he grew harder and you reached forward to wrap your fingers around him. Though with the way you were positioned together, you had to rotate your hand palm up, and twist it in a less than desirable way to be able to stroke him at all.

His eyes drifted down to his waist and caught sight of your hand. Just having you touch him again was pleasurable enough. If he was being honest, his own hand hadn’t been cutting it in the past couple weeks. But he saw you struggle to keep pace at the awkward angle and he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled it off of him. What he didn’t expect was that you’d cry out, and with a sense of near-panic, try to reach for his length again.

Realizing he’d asked you to show him, and then very quickly was keeping you from doing so like some sort of punishment, his heart twisted into a knot. “Sorry– sorry. Just let me…” He sat back on his heels and shifted his weight from one knee to the other, to reposition himself, straddling your body.

He lifted your hand, palm facing up, and spit into it before he released your wrist, which you promptly brought back to his shaft. Now with a better angle, you were able to stroke him with far more ease. Your eyes stayed glued to it, focused on how your hand slid from the base all the way up to the head, where your fingers curled over it before sliding back down to the base.

“Lemme see your eyes,”

On command, you looked up at Joel. His jaw had fallen slack and he stared at you with something devilish in his eyes. You licked your lips and inhaled sharply, wishing you were a little less clothed at the moment. Or at the very least, not wearing an old college t-shirt. A little visual stimulation right now could’ve done him some good.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

It was a far more gentle proposal than you’d been expecting, but nonetheless, you nodded eagerly. You lifted your head to try to get at him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and clicked his teeth until you succumbed and laid back down. This time when he peeled your hand off of him, he did so with a nod to assure you, you’d have it back in a moment.

“Take your shirt off for me?”

Thank God. You reached for the hem with haste and tore the thing off, flinging it over the side of the bed. Left in your bra – not the sexiest of them but still with a little padding for a slight push-up – you went to resume your place, but Joel caught you and helped you up a little further so you weren’t in a fully supine position. Now with your head propped up at a slight angle on the pillows, he brought his knees further up until he was straddled just below your shoulders. You flicked your eyes at him nervously. This was new.

“This alright?” He asked with his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself. There was a moment’s pause on your end, eyes flicking back and forth between him and his cock, before you nodded. He smiled to himself as you fixated on the way he played with his member. “Let me hear you say it,”

You looked back up at him. How could you have forgotten you were in the presence of the king of verbal consent? “This is good,”

“Good girl,” he smiled. With slow deliberation, he eased his hips forward and guided himself into your awaiting mouth. His free hand moved to the headboard, palm pressed flat against it to steady himself. He knew he’d grow weak feeling your mouth working him over.

And he was right. The moment your lips closed around the head of his cock, he let out a labored groan. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his chest deflate for what seemed like the first time in a long time. Now with both of his hands against the headboard, you held onto the base of his cock gently while you sucked and licked at the head; pulling more and more precum from him with each lick to the underside.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he looked down at caught you staring at him.

You blushed and inhaled through your nose. Allowing your eyes to drift shut, you worked your mouth down halfway down his length, then pulled back so as to not choke on him. With a slow rhythm, you did that over. And over. And over again. Joel wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t saying anything particularly dirty to you. Yet you felt yourself drip in your underwear and you squeezed your thighs together.

He must’ve heard the fabric of your jeans rustle because a chuckle floated out of his throat and your eyes snapped open. He stared down at you, head cocked to the side, and had a hard time deciding if he wanted to look at your eyes or the way his shaft moved in and out of your mouth. You kept in a staring match until your hands drifted around his legs and urged him forward even more. At that, Joel bowed his head and was decidedly focused on your eyes.

He obeyed your urging, but with a watchful gaze, he went even further than you expected him to. The head of his cock pressed at the back of your throat. Your eyes filled with tears. One even escaped the corner of your eye and rolled down to your temple. Fingers gripped tighter to the back of his thighs as he pushed the limit.

“Look at you gettin’ all of me in your mouth,” he’d grinned breathlessly, all but shoving the entirety of his length past your lips.

You’d managed to hold your breath while he explored the far ends of the boundary, but with the next breath you tried to take, you choked and sputtered around his length. Joel pulled out of your mouth. Strands of saliva kept you connected for just a moment before they broke as he stroked himself again.

He bent over, nearly folding himself in half to lower his face to yours. Despite your heavy breathing, his free hand cupped around your neck and squeezed the sides of it gently. And he kissed you with lust and fire. No consideration or care for the fact that you’d just had him in his mouth. He lapped at your lips and tongue, drinking you up until you’d regained your breath enough for his liking.

Joel unfolded himself and placed both hands against the headboard again. Eyes glued to you, he watched as you dove forward for his length, and took it in your mouth again. Reinvigorated, you sloppily dragged your lips over him before pulling back just enough to move your mouth down to his balls.

“F’you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he muttered through his teeth trying not to paint your face with his spend then and there.

But when his comment was met with a challenging hum from you, he lowered one hand from the headboard and reached behind him, stretching as much as he could while not disturbing what you were doing. His fingers hit the waistband of your jeans and he kept going. He pushed them beneath the tight fabric, and then pressed into your skin to get his fingertips beneath your underwear.

Your legs flinched together when he passed over your clit. You brought a hand up to his shaft for the twofold purpose of pleasuring him and keeping it out of the way while you paid his balls some attention. But with his middle finger circling your button, your mouth dropped open, “please, Joel.”

His response came to you in a soft tone. “I need to taste this pussy, sweet girl. Make me come and I’ll eat you out,”

The lightness of it – despite his words being wonderfully and horribly sexual – caught you off guard to the point that your eyes found his and you licked up over his delicate anatomy. Carefully, you sucked one of his balls into your mouth and rolled your tongue over it. The more you continued, the more you felt Joel unable to keep pace. His fingers stopped and started randomly. Brain slowly losing the ability to function as the pleasure swept through. You switched over to his other testicle and gave it the same gentle treatment when his finger stopped for good this time. He slid his hand out of your pants and curled it around the front half of his length, cautious to not accidentally bump into your face.

“M’gonna come,” he mumbled frantically, giving himself a few short tugs. “Where do you want it?”

You grinned and pulled away from his balls, “anywhere.”

“Where,” he all but demanded. His cheeks were flushed as he besought you for a clear answer.

“Mouth,” you cupped your hands around his thighs again. “My mouth,”

A guttural moan came from Joel and he angled his member at your open mouth with not a second to spare. He spilled onto your tongue with another groan. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed up until his orgasm was over. He released his shaft and it smacked down to your tongue. You picked up where he left off and wrapped your lips around him. Despite being wary of continuing gently, his body shuddered when you gave a final suck to him.

“Wait, wait…” he eased his shaft out of your mouth and hand and began to work himself backward away from your head.

Again, you’d only just swallowed when he bent over again and kissed you with an open mouth. He was, undoubtedly, the most surprising man you’d ever come across. Soon though, his lips left yours and he made his way down to your neck, where you stretched out to give him room to do so. His lips stayed by your ear, and ever so stealthily, he settled himself between your legs. Easing your thighs apart so he could drop a knee between them.

Joel kissed and licked your neck for a moment before he nipped on your earlobe, “you’re wearin’ too many clothes.” He smiled at your reaction when you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “How about we take this bra off?”

His hand snaked around to your back and paused at the clasp until he heard you give him the go ahead. “Yes,”

Within seconds, he pulled away to part your chests only as far as he needed to in order to take the garment off you and toss it to the floor. He returned his lips to your ear with another quiet demand, “arms above your head.” Pride flooding him when you obeyed yet again. He crossed your wrists over one another and held them with one of his massive hands. Joel kept his eyes locked on yours when he trailed his free hand down between your bodies and set his fingertips on the button of your pants. “You gonna let me eat you out?”

You nodded enthusiastically and responded all at the same time, “yes. Please, God, yes,”

Joel undid the button and zipper on your jeans. With your help of lifting your lower half off the bed, he managed to shove your pants down to your calves. “She still taste as good as I remember?”

You giggled, playfully fighting against his grip on your wrists. Testing the waters. “It’s been two weeks, not two months,”

“Two weeks too long when I want it everyday,” he released your hands and kissed his way down your chest, between your breasts, down to your belly button, until he met the waistband of your underwear. He tugged on your jeans and freed your legs from them completely. Spreading your legs wider, he lowered himself between them and draped one of your legs over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the lace at the crease of your leg, “can I?”

“Joel, just do it, pl–” your words died in your throat when Joel pulled your underwear to the side and latched his mouth on your clit. “Please,” you moaned and immediately buried your fingers in his hair. Both of your hands cradled the back of his head, fighting the urge to push it down harder on you.

He opened and closed his mouth around you, craning his head lower to lap at your dripping entrance. “Goddamn. Love that you get this wet just from sucking my cock,”

Just from the way your underwear had stuck to you, you were sure you were a mess. Slicked up and ready for Joel. He wouldn’t need to do too much for you here. Shit, the sex dream itself had nearly gotten you there. Yet he kept working. Licking from your entrance, all the way up to your clit.

You shivered and tugged on his hair, silently begging him not to stop. The noises coming from him – the hums and the moans – were a pretty good sign that he wasn’t going to. He lifted your leg off his shoulder and pushed it back toward your chest. It raised the angle he was able to get at you and he used that advantage to close his lips around your clit again. It made your calf spasm in his hand which he remedied by massaging his fingers into the muscle. And most of all, you knew he was making more of a mess of you than you’d already been before. With each lick and swipe of his tongue, a wave of arousal flowed out of you. He even brought a hand up to your entrance and smeared your slick all over as if proving the point even further.

Joel eased his middle finger into you with his palm facing upward. Your body fought him but he fought back by biting your inner thigh, and a shriek left your throat at the sharp feeling.

You clutched at his hair tighter, tugging on it with fervor, “so good, Joel. S’good,”

He pulled his finger out of you, much to your dismay. But very quickly pushed it back inside. This time with the addition of his ring finger. You let out a coo… a hum… a plea for him to get you there. To just tip you a little further, off the edge, foregoing the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how quickly he could.

You came without warning. You’d thought you had a minute left but there you were coming undone, moaning and trembling beneath him. In fact, the first coherent words out of your mouth were exclamations of apology. You brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to ground yourself as your body still jerked to each of Joel’s movements. Sorry’s passed your lips in a steady stream.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just removed his fingers from your core and kept kissing and licking your swollen cunt until your body stopped spasming. He kissed up your hip, to your navel, and continued past it. It wasn’t until he pressed his lips to the curve of your breast that he finally lifted his head. He stared at your lips and wiped his hand over his beard to clean away some of your release before he leaned back in and kissed you.

You accepted it wholeheartedly, trying to pay him back for your lack of warning before you came. He’d been aware enough to warn you of his. “I meant to warn you, I–”

Joel pulled away from you and shook his head, “don’t you fucking dare apologize for coming.” He lowered his weight to you and cupped one of your breasts in his hand. He kneaded the supple flesh and lifted his other hand to the side of your head. Lips pecked your jawline until he closed in on your ear. “Want me to fuck you?”

He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Had you not been so tuned into him, you might’ve missed it. But you nodded eagerly, arching your body off the bed to grind up against him.

His lips stretched into a smile against your jaw. “Take your underwear off,” he paused, waiting as you did so. He only lifted himself far enough up for you to complete the job. Then, brimming with pride, he whispered to you again, “put me inside you.”

“Joel,” you whined, hoping he’d take control of the situation.

But he was intent on matching your stubbornness. “If you want it, take it,” he grinned again against your ear.

This time there wasn’t hesitation on your end. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his girth. He nodded softly and you brought him between your spread legs. Careful, deliberate actions until you pushed him past your tight ring of muscle and he sunk inside you.

“Attagirl,” he lifted his head and kissed you tenderly.

You’d expected frantic, hurried sex. The type of starved lovers after weeks away. Something a little more similar to the oral sex you’d both just given and received. But instead of quick thrusts that sent your head into the headboard, Joel let himself rest inside you for an extra minute. He kissed your lips, and cheek, and jaw, before he made his way back up to your lips. Just content for the time being to relish in the feeling of him throbbing inside you, and your body responding to it with tugging clenches.

“Joel,” you whined again.

This time he cupped both hands around your cheeks and hushed you. “Let me take my time with you,”

“I need you to move though. Fuck me. Hard. And now.”

He smiled a little wider. Before he gave you a verbal answer, he rocked his hips backward and then slowly thrust back into you. “Be patient. Let me take care of you,”

It wasn’t lost on you that he was saying that a lot lately. Let me take care of you. If this… mind-blowing sex and earth-shattering orgasms were included in the “taking care of you”, you were inclined to let him. So you bit your tongue and set your hands on his ribs, content to let him take care of you however he saw fit. You doubted you’d have any objections if it was going to end in another orgasm.

Joel’s languid thrusts pierced into you in steady repetition. And though they weren’t fast or rough, they were just as deep and powerful as you remembered. Maybe even more so as the slowness allowed for his eyes to remain on your face; catching every miniscule change in your expression. From the breathless smile that spread across your face when his cock passed over your gspot, to the wince that replaced it when the head of his length pressed against your cervix.

He kissed you again, this one a tender thing that matched the care and precision of his thrusts inside you. Each forward motion of himself into your anatomy fanned the flame inside you. A heat rose in your chest and migrated up your neck and to your cheeks. You saw a similar flush in Joel’s own chest and cheeks. It gave you great pleasure to know you could satisfy him as much as he could satisfy you.

You clutched at his sides a little tighter when a particularly deep thrust made the edges of your vision blur. “Want you to come inside me,”

“Yeah?” He nodded, reassuring, “I will.”

In times past, even if the sex wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t necessarily an event. Not like this. Not like Joel was content to fuck up into you for hours if that’s what it took. It surely wasn’t going to. But not once did his pace quicken or falter. Not when you purposefully squeezed your muscles around him to spit him on. Not when you lifted your hips off the bed to meet him halfway. In fact, he just held you down. Pinned a hand to your waist and forced you flush to the bed so he could keep his desired speed.

But in the effort of once again meeting each other at stubbornness, you decided to take matters into your own hand. You pressed against his chest with force, not surprised when he immediately leaned away from you. He didn’t go as far as to pull out, but he did stare down at you, utterly confused. Just after your last request, he wasn’t expecting you to be stopping him.

“I wanna be on top,” you pressed on his shoulder thinking he’d roll over just as easily.

But Joel just laughed at you and shook his head. He pulled out to the tip and then rolled his hips forward back into you. However, you pushed on his chest again, more insistent this time. Joel caught one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it down by your head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna go too fast and we’re havin’ a moment,”

You glared playfully at him. If he wasn’t going to let you do it off the bat, you knew you could play harder. Lifting your head off the pillow, you nipped at his jaw, making your slow way to his neck, where you dragged your tongue over his jugular. “I want to ride you… pretty please?” You suckled on his neck and let out an airy whimper, “wanna feel you all the way up in my stomach. Feel you…”

Joel cut you off with a well-placed arm around your back and he carefully flipped you both over without slipping out of you. Victorious, you wiggled your hips, drilling him into you to the hilt.

“Don’t get too cocky. I would’ve come if you said rearrange your guts, so really I did you a favor,”

You rolled your eyes and set your hands on his chest, using the leverage to roll your hips back and forth along his length. You’d play by his rules. You’d go slow and let the moment continue. You wouldn’t try to ride him within an inch of his life just for the heck of it. Shit, you weren’t far off of your next orgasm when he was on top of you. Now you knew your time on top of him was finite.

He kept his hands on your hips as if he wasn’t sure you’d comply with him. Like he’d have to use every remaining ounce of strength to keep you moving how he wanted you to. But on top of him, able to fully harness the friction against your clit you’d been searching for, it wasn’t hard to want to comply. You could get everything your wanted and more. So as your movements kept him deep, and your anatomy clung and pulled at him, you neared another orgasm with haste.

You thought he could feel it coming. You were sure he could. The grin on his face was either because he knew your climax was imminent, or because his was. Either way, it seemed like a good time to you. Your head bowed forward, chin dropping to your chest, and your body stiffened. Everything stopped for you as you tried to fight it off. To make it last a little while longer. But the ever-present grip Joel had on your hips tightened. Fingers squeezed your supple flesh. And he thrust up into you with power you weren’t sure he’d be able to get at this angle.

The orgasm crashed into you and you were only half-aware of the filth coming out of Joel’s mouth. The words, despite being completely debauched, seemed almost normal now. The only thing that caught you was how his expression twisted when you clenched down on him. How his fingers flexed around your hip. And how he then pushed you down on him, making it impossible for you to wriggle away as he came inside you.

You collapsed down against his chest, breathing in as much fresh air as you could get into his lungs. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and chest but you couldn’t have cared any less to lay your cheek against it. As your breathing began to even out, you felt one of Joel’s hands wrap around your backside and reach for his member. He eased himself out of you, humming to match the groan you let out.

It wasn’t the time to think about it, but you couldn’t get your mind off the thought of how long you’d get to keep Joel out here. If he’d stay with you a few days. Maybe a week. How were you ever going to leave your sister in a lurch, without help, if you returned back home. Home to Texas.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite having showered before sex, both you and Joel showered again after it. Bound to go back to your sister’s. But you were already back in bed waiting for him, while Joel rustled through his duffle bag in search of a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He’d already asked you in the shower what that funny look on your face was all about. But you’d told him it was nothing, and though he didn’t particularly like that answer, he didn’t press it at the time.

Now as he glanced over at you on the bed and saw the same look on your face, he figured he’d try again. “Spooked?”

You flicked your eyes over at him, “no. Just thinking about how I’m gonna have to leave her here with him.”

Joel nodded and slid a navy blue shirt over his head. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t have to rush home for me. I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

You nodded as he neared with a pair of jeans in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and leaned in for a quick kiss. It was there and gone in a flash. Replaced by the feeling of his hand on your thigh.

“I know this is a weird thing to bring up but I feel like we should talk about it before we get too deep into this thing and it gets brutal or mes–”

“I hate this preface,” you mumbled, searching his face for any indication of what this apparently uncomfortable conversation was going to be.

“Do you want kids?” He caught your widening eyes and gripped into your thigh a little tighter as if to keep you both grounded in reality. “I can’t give you any, ‘cause you know… snipped. And before you say it’s reversible or anything, I don’t want to get it reversed.”

“I wasn’t going to say it’s reversible,” you pressed a smile.

“Well…” he took a breath. “I just don’t want to get too far into this if the answer is yes because then I won’t be able to give you what you want. And you deserve that… if you want it,”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met a man that I could see myself having kids with,”

“But what if that’s me?”

“It won’t be.” Off his shocked expression, you reached forward too and set your own hand on his leg, “I mean, if seeing myself with you means no kids, then that’s not even an option to consider if I see myself with you. It’s like you being young… it’s not an option,”

Joel smirked and raised his hands to your ribs to tickle you, “that was kinda mean.”

You nudged his hands away from you and leaned in instead, resting yourself against his chest. “Right now, at this moment, I’d rather have you and nothing than a sub-par husband and a kid,”

“I didn’t say nothin’ about getting married. The vasectomy got nothin’ to do with that,”

“We’ll see how it goes. No pressure. Y’know ‘cause in fifteen years you might be a real pain in my ass,” you winked.

He tackled you down to the bed and smothered your neck and face with endless kisses until you were laughing hysterically.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The following days passed slowly. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about that. Time wasn’t flying by before your very eyes. You had time to relish Joel. To be continually stunned by him every time he stepped up to do something for your nephew that your sister’s husband should’ve been doing. There was time to lounge and talk. To play around. To be told by an older woman in the grocery store that “you and your husband have made the cutest little boy”.

And when his flight home came a few days later, you drove him to the airport and clutched at his sweater with every ounce of strength you had. Told him you didn’t know when you’d be home, but it would be soon. And he didn’t ask you to clarify. Didn’t ask if that meant in a couple days, a week, or a month. Just cupped his hands over your cheeks and nodded. Told you it was okay. Trusted that you’d come home when you were ready to.

That only took about a week. One more week of watching your brother-in-law sit on his ass while you helped raise his child. You broke the news to your sister and she did her best to hide her fear and pain. You did your best to hide yours, too. On the way out, you also left her with some words of encouragement. To not let him sit on his ass. To force him to take an active role. And if he couldn’t, then to get the fuck out. Though she nodded and said she would, you knew she’d always stick around and be left unsatisfied.

Joel had told you to let him know when you were coming home. That he’d pick you up from the airport. But you decided to let him off the hook. To handle your own business and call an Uber to scoop you up.

He was in your front yard, mowing the lawn when you showed up. He let the gas engine rumble to a stop when the car pulled up. Stood, watching you, with his hands on his hips as you rounded to the trunk of your car and lifted out your suitcase though the driver came around to help you. You murmured an “I got it” to him and Joel found it endearing. How you said that to him on the first day you moved into the neighborhood and put up such a fight at his insistence to help. What he’d learn later, and what this sad Uber driver would never get the chance to learn, is that you were all bark and no bite.

You rolled your suitcase over the curb and let it fall to the half-cut grass. Got up in front of Joel and smirked at him, “you’re mowing my lawn?”

He smiled back. Much more pleasant. “Yeah. It was so long, it was bringing down my property value. You’re a bad neighbor,”

“Yeah,” you shifted your gaze to the grass momentarily. “Maybe I’ll be a better girlfriend,”

A red flush crept up over Joel’s cheeks. He nodded as if he was sure of it. “Probably not,”

Your jaw dropped and you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel caught your hands and held them against him. He leaned in for a kiss. Something rather chaste, but he inhaled to take you in before he stood back up. With a nod in the direction of his house, he smiled again, “go on to the house. I got a fresh pot of coffee goin’.”

“I want to shower,”

“Shower there. I got clothes,”

You pointed at your suitcase, “I have laundry.”

“I’ll bring it in. Go on.” He nodded again in the direction of his home, “I’ll meet you there after I finish up here,”

You relented and made off for his home after one more kiss. Before you’d even fully crossed the street, you heard his old push mower roar back to life. With his front door unlocked, you stepped inside and came face to face with a vase full of fresh cut flowers on the table in the entryway. Like he’d been expecting you the whole time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

146 notes · View notes

daughterofscotland · 3 days ago

Text

Decisions and Bubble Baths

After months and months I finally managed to write a little snippet of a BuckTommy fix it fic recently... and today I finished it at almost 2k.

Go me! AO3 Link: Decisions and Bubble Baths

Pairing: BuckTommy

Tags: Light NON-SEXUAL BDSM, hopeful ending

Summary: After their break up, both Buck and Tommy realize that their dynamic outside of the bedroom has some long-term consequences. Eddie realizes they need some help to fix it.

***

Buck didn't know what to wear. He was supposed to get dressed for a dinner with the team - not like their old cook outs, since Bobby and Athena still hadn't found a new place (or build a new one, he wasn't sure), but at a restaurant. Eddie was going to pick him up, saying he didn't want to drink anyway, and Buck... Buck didn't know what to wear.

***

It's not like they had planned it, this dynamic between them. But on their sixth date Buck couldn't decide what to wear, almost making them late, and Tommy had confidently grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, and over-shirt, handed it to Buck, and said. "You're going to wear these." Buck hadn't argued, his head suddenly silent, as the decision was taken from him, and gotten dressed. They hadn't talked about it. But then it happened again, when Buck couldn't decide on what to order at a new ice cream shop. Tommy had simply turned to the girl behind the counter, ordered for them both, and Buck hadn't argued. And it happened again in the grocery store, when Buck couldn't decide on a wine. Then they talked about it. Tommy insisted on research (Buck might have had to blow him about it) about clear communication and boundaries. They had already played around in bed, had discovered early on that their kinks matched well. But "daddy" and "baby boy" were for sex. Neither of them wanted to move it out of the bedroom.

So Tommy became "sir" whenever Buck needed help to make a decision. A firm, grounding hand on his neck when he spiraled or got so excited about whatever he was talking about, he became faster and faster and couldn't stop himself. Buck was "sweetheart" whenever Tommy needed calm, needed to be worshiped, needed to be treated like he was precious. Buck always wanted Tommy to feel that way, but Tommy had trouble allowing himself the comfort. At some point, Tommy had created a virtual wardrobe for Buck, with clothes made from his actual wardrobe, for days he wasn't on shift. He planned outfits a month in advance, so Buck wouldn't be paralyzed by a decision while Tommy wasn't there. In return, Buck had put at least one moment of "treatment" a week into Tommy's calendar: a bubble bath, a massage, a special meal. It worked for them and made them happy.

But now it had been a month since Tommy had walked out of Buck's life, with no word since. He'd spent a month baking to try to not think about Tommy, to keep from calling him, had ignored the way he'd started to get jittery and always felt cold and restless, how he kept looking to his side to share a joke or a fact he learned, just to find the space next to him empty. And now the virtual wardrobe was empty. Buck had used the last pre-coordinated clothes and now he sat before his actual wardrobe, unable to choose a simple outfit.

This was how Eddie found him.

Eddie didn't know what kind of dynamic Buck and Tommy had going on - neither did he want to - but he knew there was something. Buck was... calmer. More thoughtful, less impulsive. He still talked a lot, but when they were out together, Eddie saw the way Tommy put his hand on Buck's neck when he got lost in his spirals, how he squeezed, and calmed Buck down that way. The first time Hen noticed Buck's clothing style had changed and Buck blushed and said "Tommy picked it out for me", Eddie knew he didn't just mean something like Tommy buying him clothes.

So after the breakup, when nothing changed too much - except the excessive baking - Eddie thought: Okay, it's fine, he'll be alright. Should he have played keep-away with his phone with Hen? Probably not. But he also didn't want Buck to get hurt again, and he thought not contacting Tommy would make it easier for him. But then something changed. Buck became more restless. A bit more unkempt. He kept looking to the side when he was talking and then he just trailed off, looking lost. It was like he was always somehow out of sync with himself. And then there was Tommy. Eddie messaged him after the break up, telling him he was an idiot, but he would still be Eddie's friend and better show up to their next basketball game. Eddie didn't mention the break up then. They didn't talk about Buck at all, actually. He noticed Tommy looked like he didn't sleep well, of course, and he didn't talk much - but Tommy was always a bit more quiet, so it wasn't too much of a change. But the few times Eddie visited him to work on the car, he noticed the garage getting kind of... cluttered. Dirty. And that was certainly unusual. So was Tommy shying away from every touch, and looking increasingly tense. And now here Buck was, sitting on his bed, staring at his wardrobe, a lost look in his eyes. Unable to choose clothing for himself.

Clearly, Eddie had underestimated something about their dynamic, and it needed to be fixed. He went to the balcony and even shut the door for good measure, before he called Tommy. Not that he expected Buck to hear anything from him even if he were to stand right next to him, but still.

"'lo?" "Shit, man, were you asleep? Sorry, I didn't think you'd be on shift." "No, no, it's fine," came Tommy's voice, gravely, and accompanied by a yawn. "I wasn't... just taking a nap..." "Okay, good, because this is important, and I need you to be awake." "What? What's going on?" Tommy sounded more alert immediately. "Look, man, I don't know what kind of stuff you and Buck got up to, but clearly your breakup has some long-lasting ramifications." Eddie listened to the way Tommy's breathing sped up, clearly worried if not panicked. "We're supposed to go to a restaurant with the team but he's up there, in his loft, almost catatonic, because he doesn't know what to wear. He literally can't choose his own clothes, man. How the fuck did that happen?" There was silence on the other end and Eddie felt himself getting angry. "I swear to god, Tommy, if you hang up on me -" "I am not," Tommy assured him, a slight wobble in his voice. "I'm not... I... god, I fucked up so badly." "Yeah, well, we all know that, mostly due to the pounds we have put on eating all of Buck's "I am not allowed to call him so I am baking" loaves. I know you aren't doing any better, either. So, whatever reason you had to break up, fine, you figure that out on your own time. But clearly this is about more than just your romantic relationship." "Yeah... yeah it's... it is," Tommy agreed, swallowing hard. "I don't... okay. I can... I think I can help, but you'll need to give Ev- Buck the phone, alright?" "Don't call him that, Tommy," Eddie said quietly. "I am pretty sure that makes it worse." "Yeah. Yeah, okay." "I'll put you on speaker and next to him on the bed. Then I will go back outside to the balcony, so give me a minute before you do whatever you want to do. I don't want to hear it."

***

"Evan? Evan, can you hear me?" Tommy. That was Tommy's voice, sounding tinny and far away. Buck blinked and looked around, his eyes falling on the phone next to him. "Tommy?" he asked, coughed and cleared his throat. Picking up the phone, he tried again. "Tommy?" "Not quite. Eddie told me you need some help?" And just like that, something in Buck calmed down. But at the same time he could feel his eyes starting to hurt from unshed tears. "I... Sir. Please. I, I don't... what do I wear?" There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line but Tommy's voice was completely calm as he answered. "That's okay, Evan. I'll help you. Where are you going tonight?" Buck thought for a moment. "Uhm, a restaurant, with the team. Mongolian, I think." "Okay, that's good, Evan. Do you have those dark-washed jeans you bought in Anaheim?" Buck looked around and found them on the ground in front of his clothes. "Yeah, I do." "Alright. Those, with that royal blue shirt you bought two months ago. It's probably gonna be warm at the restaurant, so no need for an over-shirt, but wear your black jacket for the trip. And the black boots. Okay?" "Yeah. Yes, sir. I got it. Thank you." Buck was already getting dressed, having put the phone on the bed again. "Of course, I am glad I could help, Evan."

Buck swallowed. He... he was glad Tommy didn't call him Buck again, but his voice still sounded off. Not quite like himself. Buck took a deep breath. He never had switched this fast, but he needed to do this right now. "You really did help," he assured the other man. "But what about you? Do you need help, too, Tommy?" There was silence on the other end and Buck worried he had gone too far, that Tommy had hung up. But then there was a slightly wobbly sounding breath, a cracked voice answering him. "I... yes, I... I think I do, sweetheart." "Okay, Tommy," Buck said, sitting back down and putting the phone to his ear. "That's okay. Do you... do you still have my key?" "Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry, I wanted to give it to Eddie, but I just couldn't -" "Hey, hey, don't worry about that, it's okay," Buck assured him. Tommy sounded a bit frantic, definitely not as calm as he'd been before. He was just as lost as Buck had been. "Why don't you come over here, hm? I still have those bath salts you like, and your bubble bath. Come here, take a nice long bath, and then take a nap in my bed until I come back. Okay? I won't be out too long. Or, if you want, I will stay home and wait for you." Another silence that was broken by an almost sob. "No, you... you go. Enjoy your dinner. I'll... I'll do what you said, sweetheart." "Yeah?" Buck asked, a small smile on his face. "You will be here when I come home, Tommy? And I can see what else you need?" "Yes, I will," Tommy assured him, his voice more steady now. "You won't be long?" "Three hours, tops," Buck promised him, already mapping the route in his head, how much time he would have to eat before he had to leave the restaurant again. "You'll be okay, baby." "Yeah. You, too, sweetheart. I promise."

Buck swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. This wasn't a solution, just a temporary band-aid for both their pain. They would have to talk, really talk, to see where to go from here. But for now, he hung up the phone, shoved all his clothes in the closet, and went downstairs to prepare a few cookies and a piece of lemon loaf on a covered plate, with a glass of water, putting it in his bathroom for Tommy to enjoy during his bath. Eddie didn't interrupt him and only squeezed his shoulder once before they left, Buck leaving the light on before locking the door behind himself, so Tommy would be reminded that he was expected. That he was wanted. It would have to be enough for now.

#9-1-1 #bucktommy #kinley #tevan #fix-it fic #my writing

36 notes · View notes

babyonboard · 19 hours ago

Text

Ultraviolence | part 2

Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake Seresin

click here to read part 1!

Summary: You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake Seresin was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no kind to. At least that’s how it used to be.

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, infidelity, Bradley sucks, angst, smut, oral, choking, Jake Seresin has a praise kink because I said so, a little redhead slander (I am so sorry if you’re ginger).

Announcement: Yes I know part one came out a year ago. Yes I know nobody cares anymore. I want to get back into writing again and this has been sitting in my drafts for so long.

It had been 2 weeks, and you hadn’t confronted Bradley. But, in terms of how he’s been treating you, it’s been paradise. Things were back to how they used to be, or at least that's how it looked on the surface. You wondered if the girl he was cheating with is still in the picture or not. You wondered about her a lot. It was really hard to not think about her. In fact, you thought about her so much that you had a clear picture of what you thought she looked like in your mind. Of course, she’s blonde. Shiny, silky, long blonde hair. She’s slightly shorter than you, with a slightly better figure. Her tits were bigger than yours, and her stomach is flatter. She had a bright white smile and a bubbly personality.

You hated her. But you also felt sorry for her.

Jake had been literally blowing up your phone. He called and texted you so many times. You responded at first, saying you hadn’t confronted Bradley yet, but you were going to. He asked you every day after that if you had done it yet, and you never responded. The only other text you responded to was when he said he was worried that something happened and you needed help. It was embarrassing, that’s the real reason you didn’t want to talk to him. It was embarrassing that you were prioritizing guilty attention over your own self respect.

One day when Bradley got home from work, he was pissed. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked from the couch as he kicked his shoes off.

“Hangman’s just the same fucking dick he’s always been.” He mumbled.

At this point, you were all ears. “What’d he do?” You set your book down on your chest..

He shook his head. “Always in everyones fucking business.” He grumbled and went into the kitchen.

Interesting. You pulled your phone out and went to text Jake to ask him what he did, but when you opened his contact, you saw that he had texted you this morning and you didn’t see it.

Since you’re not gonna call him on it, I will.

On your day off, Bradley asked if you could bring his laptop to work because he forgot it. Of course, you eagerly got in the car and drove it to him. When you entered the office building on the base, you tried to remember your way around. And because you fucking deserve it, because of some kind of weird karma from the universe, Jake was the first person you saw.

“Hey.” He said slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. You half smiled and gave him a nod, hoping that was the end of the interaction. It wasn’t.

He came closer to you, ducking his head like he was trying to be secretive. “Can I talk to you?” He said softly. His presence made you want to break down crying in his arms. It made you resent Bradley in a way that was unlike you.

“Jake, no. Not now.” You shook your head, trying to move around him. He blocked you and you gave up all too easily.

His hand came up to your shoulder, resting it softly on you. He towered over you, but he was still so gentle. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you but you never answer. Me and Nat saw that girl with Bradley again, they were in his car, and we were able to find her on facebook. Her names Clara and-”

“God, you're a lifesaver.” Bradley groaned in delight, entering the lobby. Both of your heads whipped in that direction. You forced a smile and laughed, shrugging Jake’s hand off of your shoulder. As Bradley walked closer, you and Jake looked at each other. His eyes had sympathy and a little bit of anger, and yours said don’t-say-another-fucking-word. You could tell it made Bradley physically uncomfortable that you and Jake were talking to each other. Actually, the energy in that room made all three of you uncomfortable. It also made him uncomfortable that neither of you were saying anything. “Did I miss something?”

“No! No, here you go.” You held his laptop out to him, forcing a smile. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead. You were so embarrassed you almost recoiled when he touched you.

“I was just gonna show her where your office was. She looked lost.” Jake’s voice was noticeably different. It's almost like it went back to normal, he sounded so much softer when he talked to you.

The tension between Bradley and Jake was intense. They both had an obvious dislike for each other that was never there before.

“You wanna see my office, babe?” He looked down at you. You nodded enthusiastically.

“See ya Hangman.” He said, pulling you away from the magnetic force of a man that is Jake Seresin.

Back in Bradley’s office, you felt sick to your stomach. From the little information you were able to hear, he is not done with that girl. And now, you have a name to put to that stupid fucking face that you can’t stop thinking about. Leaning against Bradleys desk, you couldn’t help but stare at the picture of the two of you that sat front and center. It was from your wedding. You were both laughing, wrapped completely around each other. The happiness that you had in that picture, the happiness that was in endless supply, surrounding you every second of every day, was nowhere to be found now. You haven’t seen it for a while.

It was different this time. When you first found out he cheated, you were sad. Cried whenever he wasn’t around, threw up, the whole nine yards. Now, just finding out that it is still going on, you were mad. So mad it was almost funny. For some strange reason, you wanted to laugh. An anger unlike anything you have ever felt in your entire life brewed in each and every cell of your body. It was white hot and it was making you sweat.

Sitting down at his desk, Bradley’s eyes were on you. “Are you okay?” His voice was worried, like he might be in trouble if you’re not. “You look sick.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine” You smiled. The familiar feeling in your stomach, the same one you got when Jake had first told you, started crawling up your throat. You were absolutely disgusted by him and it was making you sick to look at him.

He reached out and touched your leg. “Come here.” He spoke softly.

You pushed off of the desk and away from his hand. “I have to go. I have a call- a work call- in a little bit.” You scrambled for an excuse.

“Oh.” He said.

Backing up towards the door, he looked increasingly worried with each step you took. “Bye, see you at home.” You said, giving him no time to respond or question as you walked out. Out in the hallway, you could finally breathe. You stood still for a few moments, the cool air conditioning of the building filling your lungs as you took long, deep breaths. This time is different. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s happily letting it happen. You were fucking done with him. Your legs started working again and you made your way down the eerily quiet hallway. That place feels like a museum, everything looks clean and untouched.

As you were inspecting the cleanliness while you walked, you stopped in your tracks when you read “Lt. Jacob ‘Hangman’ Seresin”. This was his office. You looked around the hallway, saw nobody, then knocked lightly. “Come in.” You heard his muffled voice say on the other side. The door clicked as you opened it, peaking your head inside like you thought you would be bothering him if you came in. He was standing behind his desk with papers in his hands. When he saw you, his posture and his eyes softened. He dropped the papers onto his desk.

“Hey.” You said, still not fully stepping into the room.

“Come sit.” He said. You shut the door behind you and you were finally able to let your guard down. You took a shaky breath and walked over to his desk. Not wanting to intrude, not wanting to make yourself at home, you stayed standing.

You cleared your throat. More than anything, you wanted answers. “Can I see a picture of her?”

He started walking around to meet you on the other side of his desk. His desk was much more neat than Bradley’s. Bradley’s was littered with pictures and trinkets and notes. Jake had a couple of awards on display off to the side, and that was mostly it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jake. Please.” You pleaded, trying to be as stern as you could even though your voice shook.

He looked down to the ground. Without a word, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. It was silent as he typed a few words and your stomach started to twist again.

He cleared his throat. “Here.” He had her facebook page pulled up.

To your surprise, she was not blonde. Well at least not all the way. She had strawberry blonde hair and dark eyes. And of fucking course, she had dimples. But the biggest thing that stood out was how young she looked. With a second more of scrolling, you saw “UCLA class of 21” in her bio. “Class of 21?” You gasped. You and Bradley were both 30. She was 22 at most. That pissed you off even more, you felt like you couldn’t even see straight.

Jake grabbed the phone out of your hands. “That’s enough.” He said, putting it back in his pocket. You saw her full name, it’s burned into the back of your eyelids, you could look her up later.

It was quiet again. Jake didn’t know what to say. He had a million things he wanted to say, but none of them were a good idea right now.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” You admitted shamefully.

“Y/N.” He sighed “Don’t say you’re sorry, none of this is your fault.”

Looking down at the ground, you were unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. She’s so pretty and she-”

“Hey.” His voice was stern, it made you flinch. His hand came up to your chin and lifted your head to look at him. “This was not about you. This is about Bradley being selfish. You are prettier than her. You understand me?” His hand was still gripping your chin. You nodded, eyes locked in his. “You are so god damn beautiful, and Bradley is fucking crazy for not giving you the world.” His grip got softer as he spoke that sentence, but he didn’t move his hand. “Got it?” He asked.

“Yes.” You agree softly. He was breathing hard and his jaw clenched like he was mad. Not that you would ever admit it, but it was sexy. Your knees started to feel weak. Jake has an effect on you that Bradley never did. Right now, it felt like Jake knew that. That he knew he had some otherworldly effect on you and your knees were getting weaker by the millisecond.

“You promise?” He spoke, almost in a whisper. You realized he had dipped his head down at some point, and you tilted yours up.

“Yes, Jake.” You whispered back. You could feel his breath on your lips, making your eyes flicker down at his. Now you couldn’t look up.

Within seconds, everything that Bradley had done to you flashed through your mind in a blur. The most prominent image was him with that 22 year old fucking ginger underneath him. It only made sense to tip your head up further to kiss Jake.

When Jake first found out about the other woman, he knew this day would come, and he swore he wouldn’t take it too far when it did. But right now, now that your warm lips were touching his and he could taste the toothpaste on your tongue and it felt like his whole body was completely lit up, he didn’t know if he could stop himself.

It felt good in so many different ways. It felt good, like a sort of revenge against Bradley. It felt good to be kissed by someone who actually wanted you. And it felt so good because it was Jake.

His hand on your jaw threaded back through your hair, his other pulled you fully against him. He kissed you eagerly, like he couldn’t get enough. Your heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was about to explode out of your chest, like your whole body was struck by lightning and each one of your nerve endings was on fire. It was feverish and nerve wracking and wrong but so fucking right. He backed you up until the back of your thighs hit the edge of his desk, making the desk shift slightly on the floor. Both of his large hands cupped your face, his fingers reaching to the back of your neck.

His hips pushed yours back even further; he wanted you on his desk. Of course, you complied. His big, shiny desk creaked as you adjusted yourself on it and opened your legs to let him stand in between them. Your shorts rode up your thighs and his hands were on that exposed skin immediately. The only sound in the room was both of your heavy breathing. Your tongue swiped along his bottom lip, which he took as a green light to stick his tongue in your mouth. This was the most exhilarated you had felt in years. It was different from the many make out sessions you had with Bradley throughout your life, it was so much more intense. There was so much more meaning behind it, so much fire.

It’s obvious to anyone with a brain that Jake is rough in nature, especially in bed. Oddly enough, he was taking it easy on you thus far. That is until you felt his fingers graze against your neck, seemingly testing the waters. You tried to kiss him harder, tried to say yes without actually saying it. He must’ve got the message, his huge hand covered your throat, his fingers wrapping around it. It wasn’t choking as much as it was holding you in place. His teeth pulling your lip made a short whine come from the back of your throat, completely unintentionally. This made him rip his lips away from yours, his hand still holding your throat.

He held your face an inch away from his. “Did you lock the door?” He sounded so different, his voice was so much deeper, so much darker than normal.

You managed to shake your head within his grasp. The door isn’t locked, there is no way you could have predicted this was going to happen when you walked in 10 minutes ago. It was logical to assume he was going to go lock it, your husband was literally two doors away. Jake Seresin is anything but logical, you should know this by now. He kissed you again, so much dirtier this time. Wasting zero time, his hands were back on your thighs. Unexpectedly, your legs were lifted off the desk and pulled forward, leaving you laying on the desk. Jake pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs, kneeling as he did so, was a sight to fucking behold.

A loud sigh left his mouth as he set his gaze on your pussy. It was nothing short of heavenly, celestial even. For the last 8 years, you were forbidden fruit, and now he’s on his knees right in front of you, ready to taste you, ready to sin.

Stopping didn’t cross your mind once. Actually the only thing on your mind the whole time was more. It wasn’t even revenge at this point, it was desire in its purest form. Papers on his desk shifted under your hair, a few of them slipping onto the floor, not that you noticed.

Slowly, almost experimentally, he runs a single finger through your slit. It struck you that it was gonna be really hard to stay quiet. “You this wet for me?” He faked flattery, pulling his finger away.

“Jake, please.” You whined. Trying to get him to do something, you lifted your legs up so your calves rested on your shoulders.

“I wanna take my time with you.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, the light touch sending jolts throughout your whole body. “Give you what you deserve.”

Apparently, ‘taking his time with you’ meant diving into you and going absolutely feral. It was feverish, the way he licked and sucked you was so greedy. There was no time for you to feel bad about squeezing his head between your thighs, but you suspected he liked it anyway. He does. His nails dug into your thighs so he could hold onto you for leverage. There was no way of telling if he was sucking or biting your clit, but whatever it was, it made your vision blurry and your thoughts completely disappear. It was necessary for one of your hands to cover your mouth or else this whole office would know how good Jake is.

All this time, his cockiness was not for nothing. You understood why he had girls obsessed and delusional, you would do the same for this treatment. Maybe he’s had a lot of practice, but there is no way he is this fierce with every other girl. He was making you feel like you were the only girl in the world, like your head was spinning. He didn’t use his fingers, he really didn’t need to, his mouth already had you fighting to not cum so quickly. Ever intuitive, the only time he broke away from you was to say “Give it to me” against you. His deep voice sent vibrations through your core to your fingertips. The bright fluorescent light above you seemed to expand as your vision went white. The air left your lungs, your head spun, every muscle in your body tensed. His tongue worked you through your orgasm perfectly, and he let you grind against him as you hit your peak. “Good fucking girl.” He moaned against you.

Once he was positive you were done, he reluctantly pulled away. If he had it his way, he would keep you just like this all day. You couldn’t sit up yet, all you could do was lay there and catch your breath.

Jake knew this was bad. Not because you were his best friend's wife, but because now he had a taste and he knows he won’t be able to stop any time soon. He picked your underwear up off of the floor and gently slid them onto your shaky legs. You let him dress you again, eyes still closed. When he was done, you sat up and the look he gave you was nothing short of sinister.

He leaned his hands on the desk on either side of you, looking at you like he wanted you to say something. You brought your hands up to either side of his face and kissed him in response, words could not do what he just did to you justice. This kiss was much slower than the rest, he let you taste yourself on his lips.

Two voices talking in the hallway passed his door, making the two of you jump apart. The voices faded down the hallway, leaving the two of you tensed. For a second, the only thing either of you could do was look at each other. Every emotion possible coursed through your body, and you didn’t know whether to smile or cry or laugh or kiss him again.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He finally spoke, stunned and shakily. “I didn’t think that was actually ever gonna happen.”

That made you smile. He had thought about it before, which came as no surprise. The cold air of the office washed over you, bringing you back into reality. “You are…” Words failed you, nothing could describe how you felt. “So good.”

Of course, his cocky smile made an appearance. You could no longer judge him for it, he has every right in the world to be cocky. “You better leave before your husband sees you here.” He backed up to let you get off his desk.

“Yeah.” You agreed begrudgingly, looking down at the ground. You got a sight of your legs, your thighs were glistening and there were nail marks in them.

As you stepped away from him, he grabbed your arm. “This isn’t a one time thing. At least not for me.” He spoke inches from your ear. “And lock the door next time.”

You swallowed. “Okay.”

Back at home, you had 2 hours before Bradley got back. You had done your mourning of the relationship, you had spent your time wishing Bradley was different for weeks. Wishing he was sorry. But he’s not. And he’s never going to be. You could continue to be sad, continue to be a victim, continue to cry every day. But there were some other options.

A quick google search of the name that was burned into the back of your eyelids; Clara Bitner, you found her facebook. There was a time where you felt sorry for her. Bradley had obviously lied to her and she got caught up in something she didn’t even understand, so she was probably hurt too. But now that you know she has chosen to continue seeing your husband when she knows he’s married, you hate her. It’s so unfortunate that she was pretty. It would help if you could look at her pictures and say she was ugly, but that wasn’t an option. She had long strawberry blonde hair with deep brown eyes and classic southern charm. She was from Tennessee, but she went to UCLA, and now she’s a kindergarten teacher. “Of fucking course.” You scoffed at her occupation. Is there anything bad about this girl? She had a lot of friends and she lived in a beach condo maybe 20 minutes from here. You had been scrolling for a while, and a certain picture made you stop in your fucking tracks. It was a picture from her 22nd birthday dinner, all of her friends sitting around the table smiling, and there was Bradley. He was sitting next to her with his hand resting on her leg, with a huge fucking smile on his face. It was posted 4 months ago. If he was important to her enough to go to her birthday dinner four months ago, you didn’t want to know how long they had been seeing each other.

How did he have time for this? This wasn’t a hook up, it wasn’t an affair, it was a second life. You began to think about all of the flight tours, weekend trips, and week long missions he had gone on in the past year. How many of those were lies?

Your marriage is completely ruined, 100% done. You could mope about it. Or you could keep having fun of your own.

By the time you heard the garage door opening, you were in the kitchen making dinner. You played the song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton because it was ironic and weirdly specific to your life right now. And it was just plain funny.

The front door opened and you turned the volume up. “Hey baby!” He shouted from the front of the house.

“Hi!” You said. Acting normal was going to be harder than you thought. You heard him playing with the dogs for a moment, baby talking and petting them.

His footsteps approached the kitchen and you took a deep breath. “God, you look sexy.” He said.

You were wearing shorts and a t-shirt and no makeup. You brushed off his comment as guilty flattery.

He came up and you had to brace yourself. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the side of your neck. It made you fucking sick.

Not replying, you started humming along to the music. He swayed with you for a moment so you started singing.

You’re beauty is beyond compare,

With flaming locks of auburn hair,

Ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green.

“I love this song.” You stated.

“Mhm. Dolly’s the best.” He unwrapped his arms from you.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man.

He side eyed you and you stared right back at him. Yet, in perfect Bradley nature, he played it cool, walking to the other side of the counter.

“Poor Dolly.” You sighed. “Especially since that bitch Jolene is ginger. That just plain sucks, getting cheated on with a red head.” Trying to focus on the pot you were stirring, you couldn’t help but look up at him. His tongue was in his cheek and he had a terrified glint in his eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“Nothin’.” He shook his head and walked away.

This was kinda fun.

“You have any plans tonight?” You asked Bradley over dinner. It was a Friday, so you figured he was going somewhere, be it with Clara or not.

“Eh, Jake and Javy wanna go watch the game at a bar, I’ll probably go.” He said. “D’ you?”

That was probably a lie. “I think Jenna wants me to come meet her baby, so I’ll probably go over there. Plus she said she needs a wine night.” Jenna was your coworker, and she hasn’t even had her baby yet. It was so empowering to lie back.

While Bradley did the dishes, you got out your phone to clear some things up.

Are you hanging out with Bradley tonight?

“What time do you think you’re gonna go?” You asked from the table. His eyes were on the dishes and it was incredible how he lied so often without flinching while it made your adrenaline rush and your heart pound.

“7:30, 8?” He said.

No? Is he saying I am?

The feeling you got was the perfect definition of disappointed but not surprised. It’s a confirmed lie now. “Okay, that’s probably what time I’ll leave too.”

Yes. He’s leaving at 8. Can I come over then?

Of course.

Were you doing this purely to get back at Bradley? No, not entirely. That was a huge driving factor in your actual actions towards Jake, but you’ve always wanted to, so part of it is something you’ve always wanted.

Not long after dinner was cleaned up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and heading out the door. You watched out the window as his car pulled out of the driveway, and once it disappeared down the street, you rushed up to your room. There was a lacy black bra and thong set you had just bought waiting for you in your closet. Once you pulled it on, you admired yourself in the mirror. If Bradley won’t appreciate it, Jake sure will. You exchanged your t-shirt for a sweatshirt, you didn’t want to look like you were trying. Obviously, you were.

After spraying yourself with perfume and taking too long to decide what scent of lotion you wanted to use, you nearly ran down stairs and slipped your shoes on. A quick goodbye to the dogs and you were out the door. It seemed that every time you drove to Jake’s you were rushing. While you were driving you thought about what you were going to do when you got there, fully intending to be bold and get straight to it. The fluttering nervousness in your stomach made you feel like you were a teenager again, you hadn’t been nervous to see a boy in years. When you pulled in the driveway, the boldness started to fade out, and you almost felt shy. There was a split second where you felt guilty, your conscience waved a huge red flag and your brain told you this was wrong. One thought about where Bradley actually was right now, and you swung the car door open and got out. The thought that Bradley probably just got to Clara’s fueled your steps, and by the time you made it to the front door, you were seething. Hopefully Bradley has fun tonight, because you sure will.

Despite the vengeance coursing through your body, you knocked lightly on the door. All too quickly, the lock clicked and the door opened. “Hey, Y/N.” Jake said casually, like you weren’t his best friend's wife. He was freshly showered, his hair was still a little damp. He wore gray sweatpants and a white shirt that was entirely too tight around his biceps.

“Hi.” You said simply. He stepped back, allowing you to come in. It was quiet, and when he turned around to face you, there was an unmistakable anticipation present. It made a shiver run up your spine and goosebumps breakout on your arms. He nodded his head as a way to say ‘follow me’, and started leading you through the house. Silence still hung in the air. It felt like a volcano waiting to explode, like the calm before a storm.

You made it to his room, and your heartbeat started to speed up. It was getting real now. You had never seen his room before, but it’s just as nice as you expected. Jake has expensive taste, and his whole house reflects that. His bed was lazily made, but the rest of the room was spotless.

He reached his bed and sat down on the end of it. The way his hooded eyelids cast a shadow over his eyes made you notice how dark the lighting was in there. Unsure of what to do, you just stood and looked at him. He led you here without a word, he should know what to do now.

“Come here.” He said darkly, the voice you heard in his office earlier that day made a return. He spread his legs open so you could stand between them, a complete contrast to what happened on his desk. You still hadn’t said a word since you walked in the house, but you didn’t need to, your body said it all. The back of your thighs fit perfectly in his hands, and his shoulders fit perfectly in yours. His huge warm hands on the back of your legs made you want to melt into the floor. “Do you want this?” He asked, looking up at you.

Bradleys face flashed in your mind. So did Clara’s. You nodded.

“Say it.” His grip tightened on your thighs.

“I want it.”

“You want what?” He was really making you work for it, apparently.

You went to say it, but you hesitated. It sounded worse out loud. “I want you to fuck me.”

You swear his eyes changed in that instant. He let go of your thighs and pushed you back lightly, confusing you for a moment. “Strip.” He said. Heart in your throat, your jaw could’ve dropped to the floor. This was a lot. But you liked it.

Taking a deep breath, you started by kicking your shoes off. It only felt right to tease him, so you toyed with the rim of your sweatshirt for a moment. You slowly lifted it over your head, taking your sweet time. When you finally got it off, you heard him exhale. You secretly thanked yourself for wearing such a nice bra. The dim lighting made his face darker, but you could still see the pure lust in his eyes. Next, you hooked your finger in your shorts and pulled them down, revealing the underwear you picked out just for him. Once you kicked your shorts off of your feet, you reached your hand behind your back to unclip your bra.

“Leave it.” He said. You dropped your hands and let him look at you. He reached his hand out to you, making you step forward and grab it. As he was pulling you towards him, his eyes moved all over your body. “You pick these out for me or for him?”

Your face grew hot. “You.” You replied softly, your hand still in his. He used his grip on your hand to pull you down to kiss him. It was searing, and for a second, both of you reveled in the feeling. Without him having to ask, you climbed on top of him, stradling your legs on either side of him. When your core felt how hard he was under his sweatpants, it made your whole body twitch. If that’s what simply feeling him through his clothes felt like, you had no idea what was going to happen when he actually fucked you. He must have felt it too, his hands gripped your ass and pulled you closer to him.

Things were moving quickly, but it was still entirely too slow. He flipped you over onto your back and sat up to take his shirt off. This was by far not the first time you had seen Jake with his shirt off, but by god, it was the best. Maybe he was flexing, but you didn't care. He was sculpted like an angel, like there wasn’t a single flaw about his body. His hair got messed up when his shirt was pulled over it, it ruffled the top. It only made him look hotter. It was hard to not notice his dick through his gray sweatpants, and simply the size of his bulge made you nervous. When he bent back down to meet your lips, you kissed him in a rushed manner. It was beyond the point of wanting him, you needed him. “You want my mouth again?” He asked against your lips.

The thought made your eyes roll back in your head. Yes, you undoubtedly wanted his mouth, but you needed him inside you more. You hooked your fingers in his waistband and shook your head. He got the message, but that didn’t mean he was going to give you what you wanted right away. He used both of his hands to pull your underwear down. “Slutty fuckin’ panties.” He mumbled. Your lips met again and it felt like you couldn’t spread your legs any wider for him. Without warning, without a single preliminary touch, he stuck two of his fingers inside of you. This earned a theatrical reaction from you, like it was the first time someone has touched you that way. While it wasn’t the first time by a long shot, it somehow felt like it was, you had never been touched like this.

“Jake” Was the only thing you could get out of your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. When you tilted your head back to moan, he took the opportunity to kiss your neck. He felt like he wanted to moan more than you did. His mouth sloppily worked its way down your neck and onto your chest. It would have been smart to ask him not to leave any marks on you, but you didn’t care one bit anymore. Not while his teeth were pulling your bra down. He sucked one of your nipples into your mouth, his fingers were still moving in and out of you.

“You’re so perfect” He mumbled against your chest. You had never felt a complement that sounded so sincere, just the sound of him saying that made you feel perfect. Under his touch, under his body, under his lips, you were perfect. His fingers curled inside you and your back couldn’t arch any higher, your whimpers couldn’t get any more desperate. He used his arm next to your head to sit up, looking you up and down. His eyes roaming your body didn’t make you insecure or shy, they just riled you up even more.

His fingers were amazing, but they could only do so much. You both knew what you really wanted. “Please Jake. Please fuck me.” You cried. With one last particularly harsh curl of his fingers, he pulled his fingers out of you. He brought his fingers up to your lips, only having to brush your wetness onto your lips for a second before you sucked them into your mouth without thinking. A low groan came from the back of his throat when you gagged on his fingers, licking your own slick off of him.

He let his fingers stay in your mouth for longer than they needed to be, purely for the way you looked while taking them. Your eyes bore into his the whole time, and you thought that if he was going to humor himself with this for any longer, you were going to take matters into your own hands. The tips of your nails dragged down his chest, over his stomach, and to the waist of his sweatpants. Teasing was an option, but you couldn’t anymore, your hands gripped his sweats as you pulled them down. While doing so, a realization crossed your mind; he isn’t wearing any underwear. That’s Jake, ever classy.

He enjoyed letting you do the work, so he leaned down to taste your wetness on your lips. His tongue licked into your mouth, trying to collect anything that was left; the taste of you was addicting, he had gotten a taste in his office earlier, and he knew he was already addicted. You didn’t see his dick right away, but you felt it when you wrapped your hand around it. When you realized how thick he was, your heart fluttered. He was thicker than anything you had ever taken, thicker than your husband. A moan slipped from your mouth into his, and that was his tipping point. Before you could make any further moves, both of your hands were pinned above your head with only one of his. He used the other to pull his sweatpants down further, then line himself up with you. The sound of his breathing was loud as he slid his tip up and down your slit, making you squirm. “God,” he shook his head, his eyes glued to your pussy “you are so fucking wet.”

“Because I’m with you.” You said. It sounded like a simple observation to you, but to Jake it meant that you wanted him, you have always wanted him, the way that he has always wanted you. It meant that you were this wet every time you were around him, the way that he was rock solid every time he was around you. That thought was his breaking point, there was no teasing left that he could do, he slid himself inside of you. You knew that he would stretch you, but the feeling still surprised you.

“Oh my god.” You whined as he bottomed out. He stopped all of the way inside of you, partially to let you adjust, and partially to revel in the feeling of being inside you. Everything was hazy, his vision, his mind, but he still was able to think about how long he had wanted this. Just the thought of seeing you with Bradley at the bars every weekend, and the fact that you were now underneath him, was enough to make him want to cum. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, and he decided to wait a little longer to start moving, his hand came up to hold your jaw, making you look at him. “You’re so big.” You croaked under his touch.

His lips were an inch from yours, you could feel his breath. “Take it.” He spat. With that, he started to move. Even with your head against his pillows, you felt lightheaded and your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled all of the way out and went slowly back in. From there, he was no longer slow. It only took seconds for his pace to quicken, until his skin was slapping into yours and the sound was infiltrating your ears. The stretch definitely hurt, but the pain was mixed with the most mouthwatering pleasure. Without even trying, he was hitting the perfect spot deep inside you, and soon the sound of skin slapping was overtaken by your high pitched moans. Without realizing it, he screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, making this last as long as he wanted was going to be a lot harder than normal. You felt his lips against your neck and with his face closer to your ears, you could hear his grunts every time he thrust inside of you.

His hand was still on your jaw, and even though your wrists had been freed above your head, you hadn’t even noticed. His other hand grabbed onto your hair for leverage. It seemed like his thrusts got harder each time he entered you. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how you feel.” His tongue swirled behind your ear.

“So good.” You choked out. “You’re so good, Jake. So, so, so good.” Rambles fell out of your mouth as your arms wrapped around his back. The feeling of nails scratching down his back was one of Jake’s favorite things in the world, so when your long nails stroked all the way from his shoulders to his tailbone, he threw his head back. He sat up so his face was above you again, and slid his hand from your jaw to your neck.

Your eyes found his, and the sight of his tanned, sweaty, toned body above yours made you throb around him. His pace was insane, the pain of him slamming into you was drowned out by the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot with every single thrust. The sight of him, the power behind his thrusts, his size, it was all too much. The tears that had been stinging your eyes for the past 5 minutes started to fall. The throbbing of your pussy and the tightening of your stomach told you that you were close. “J-Jake…” You stuttered. “I’m… I…”

“Beg.” He squeezed your throat.

“P-Please.” You said the word that you felt like you had already said 50 times tonight. “Please, I’ve waited so long. Please, please, please please please” You rambled, more tears falling.

“Fuuuck, give it to me.” He groaned and dropped his head, the sight of your doe eyes and tears were going to make him cum himself if he didn’t look away. It didn’t take long after his demand for you to let the wave of pleasure consume you. Mouth falling open, your whole body pulsed and your mind went completely blank. More tears welled in your eyes and the only sensation your body could make out was the feeling of his lips on your jaw. It lasted long and it was powerful, and when you were finally coherent again, there was a noticeable wet spot underneath you. “Good job, sweet girl.” He praised, his sweetness making your stomach flutter.

Coming back up to hover over you, he kissed you. Believe it or not, Jake is not a complete and total dick, despite popular belief. He had told himself he would not ask you this question, that it would be crossing a line and it could upset you. But, when he pulled away and he saw how fucked-out you looked, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him clouded his mind, he couldn’t help himself. “Does he fuck you like this?” He asked darkly, his face close to yours.

There was a clear answer. It was staring you right in the face. But saying it out loud just felt wrong. Even more wrong than what you were already doing. “Jake…” You breathed as a surrender.

“Tell me.” He said. Your mouth opened to answer, then closed again. He raised his eyebrows, his cockiness reflecting in his eyes. To his defense, he had absolutely every right to be cocky about this. You shook your head. “No. Say it.” He said through gritted teeth.

“No. No he doesn’t.” It came out as almost a laugh. “Nobody ever has.”

“Yeah?” His arms flexed underneath your fingernails that were digging into them. You nodded.

His energy had an obvious change, the admission had done something sinister to him. He sat fully up and pulled out, earning a loud wince from you. All at once, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over onto your stomach. With one hand, he reached under your stomach to pull you onto your hands and knees. Only having been out of you for seconds, he slammed himself back in. You were already sore, and he wasn’t even done yet.

Now that your big, tear-filled eyes weren’t staring into his, he was able to start really talking. “Y/N,” one of his huge hands gripped your ass, the other held onto your waist. “I don’t even want to tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.” The only response he got from you was a high pitched whine. “I felt disgusting for thinking about you like that, but I couldn’t help it. It drove me fucking crazy, having to imagine taking you like this every night, my best friends wife.” That probably wasn’t the best thing for him to say right now, but he couldn’t control the words coming out of his mouth anymore. Unbeknownst to him, it just turned you on even more. His thrusts started to lose rhythm, and as much as he would like to keep this going all night, he was coming unraveled. “I always knew I would take better care of you.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I knew he couldn’t fuck you the way I could. The way you deserve.”

It felt almost like you were going in and out of consciousness, like you could barely even process his words. Without warning to him or yourself, you pulsed around him and another orgasm poured over your body. No words came from your mouth, and by the end of the second-most powerful orgasm of your life, your body was nearly limp and your face fell to press against the mattress. “Jesus, baby.” Jake breathed. “You just… so much… fuck, where do you want my cum?” he asked, almost rhetorically because of how little time you had to answer. He pulled out at the exact last moment, and you felt his warm cum start to run down your back. He collapsed, trapping your body underneath him as his armed caged around your sides.

Time felt different, and your hazy mind didn’t know how long the two of you laid there, breathless. Finally, gaining full consciousness, you felt Jake get off of you and walk out of the room. You were smart enough not to turn over, his bedsheets were already wet enough. The feeling of a cold wet towel against your core made your whole body jolt. “Relax, relax.” Jake said, his voice completely different than just a few minutes ago. As he gently wiped your back with the towel, his other hand came to brush hair out of your face, noticing your completely blank expression. “Are you okay?” He asked.

A smile cracked through your lips. You could say the smile was sinister, a I-just-fucked-my-husbands-best-friend smile, or you could say it was pure bliss, a I-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life smile. You preferred the latter. “Yeah.” You giggled “You could say that.”

His shoulders relaxed, and a very similar smile spread across his face. While he was putting his sweatpants back on, you glanced at his alarm clock. Nine o clock, it had only been an hour since you left your house. You sunk into the bed with the realization that you had all of the time in the world. Unintentionally, the math of where Bradley is calculated itself in your head. Clara lives further north, on the coast, about 25 minutes from here. Bradley has just gotten started there.

When Jake climbed in bed next to you, the thought of cuddling made a chill crawl up your spine. For some reason, that felt like crossing a line. It felt more intimate than anything else that had happened in this bed tonight. But, Jake didn’t seem to think twice about it. When his strong arms wrapped around you, and you pressed your cheek against his warm chest, all of your inhibitions melted away. His hand rubbed up and down your back, and your eyes fluttered closed. The feeling of your eyelashes closing against his chest made Jake’s heart swell. Fuck.

When you walked up the stairs to your bedroom, the house felt eerily silent. It was unsettling. The stairs didn’t even creek as you walked up them, and your dogs were nowhere to be seen. You started to move quicker towards your bedroom, and you flipped the light on right away when you opened the door.

The sight of strawberry blonde hair splayed across your pillow reflected the overhead light. Your mouth fell open, and you tried to talk, but nothing would come out. Furthermore, you tried to yell, but it felt like you couldn’t even get a breath in to do so. You couldn’t even move your feet.

Clara’s eyes opened, and she didn’t look shocked to see you. She sat up and met your eyes. A smile spread across her lips.

Your whole body flinched and your eyes shot open. When you realized you were laying in Jake's bed, you were finally able to take a breath in. The realization made you relax into his arms for a moment, closing your eyes again. When the clouds in your mind started to clear, and you finally had a coherent thought, you realized that you were just asleep. In Jake’s bed. Your eyes shot open again, and your head whipped around to look at his alarm clock. It was 12:30. “Shit.” You gasped. Moving on pure instinct, you rolled out of his bed and started to gather your clothes. By the time your shorts were on, Jake woke up.

“What’s wrong?” He groggily spoke.

“We fell asleep. It’s 12:30.” You pulled your sweatshirt over your head. “I have to go home.”

“Oh.” He said. He was obviously not as freaked out as you were, but he wasn’t the one going home to his spouse. The room was quiet while you put your shoes on, and in the darkness you were able to make out Jake’s figure standing up and rubbing his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You turned your head to say as you walked out of his room. Fully intending to book it to your car, your rushed movements were stopped by Jake grabbing your wrist right before you reached the front door. He pulled you to his chest and kissed you. His lips were soft, and his hands held your hips gently. Only letting the kiss last a few seconds, you pulled away. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and you wondered if Bradley had tried calling you, if he was worried about you. Just past his shoulder, you saw Jake's couch, the one you were sitting on when he had originally told you about Bradley’s affair. Just the sight made your blood start to boil.

You kissed him again. “Goodnight Jake.”

“Goodnight.” His hands left your hips and one last glance was shared between the two of you before you were out the front door. No promises of this happening again, no ‘text me when you get home’, just a pit in both of your stomachs that said this was wrong, but there is no way we are stopping. The air was chilly as you walked to your car and you didn’t have it in yourself to speed home this time. You didn’t care. Driving slowly, you let the radio play softly in the background and when you turned the corner to your street and saw Bradley’s car in the driveway, you hardly reacted. The lights were still on, and with a glance at your phone let you know that he still hadn’t texted or called.

It was 12:45 and Bradley was on the couch watching TV. Not unusual, but you were still quiet when you walked in. “How’s Jenna?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the TV.

“Good.” You kicked off your shoes. “Her baby is so cute.” While you hoped the questions would stop there, you knew it would be suspicious to just go upstairs right away. How does Bradley do this every day?

He lifted the blanket he was using up so you could crawl under it. His warm skin felt safe and familiar. As usual, his hand fell to your hair to pet it. Closing your eyes, you could already feel the guilt seeping through your skin and crawling up to form a lump in your throat. “How was the game?” You faked curiosity.

“Mm.” He grumbled. “Philly lost. Per usual.”

You began to wonder if he actually watched it. “How’s Jake?”

His chest rose under your cheek as he took a breath in. “Good, I think. Same old same old.”

“Mhm.” You agreed. Fucking liar.

An overwhelming feeling of disgust overtook you. He was lying, but so were you. You were just as bad as him. You thought back to the early days of your relationship, when you said you would do anything for each other, you would never leave each other, that you loved each other more than anything in the world. What happened? Where did you go wrong?

Tears stung your eyes and nausea crept up your throat. "I'm gonna go to bed." You sprung off the couch and booked it towards the stairs.

Bradley didn't flinch. "Goodnight." He spoke, eyes glued to the TV "I love you."

You glanced back at him, and maybe if he was looking at you he would see the disturbance of disgust and infidelity on your face. Regardless, you said nothing in response and walked up the stairs silently.

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #jake seresin imagine #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x reader

38 notes · View notes

cripplecharacters · 2 days ago

Note

do you or any of your followers have tips for writing a character with tinnitus? like his common experiences. he has cybernetics that help with it but they do fail at times. I've sorta drawn on my experiences with auditory processing issues/spd, but I'd really appreciate knowing what experiences the two disabilities have in common and their differences

Hi!

Tinnitus is a common symptom/side effect of apd and hearing loss. In those cases it is usually triggered by auditory overstimulation, or when moving from a loud area to a very quiet one.

Tinnitus can also occur in people without any hearing problems. This is also generally triggered by sudden silence, but can also be more random.

For me as a HoH person it is mainly triggered by silence and listening to other sounds (like music) can help it go away. It's very distracting and I can't do much else until it stops. If I'm in the middle of doing something and it starts I am startled and suddenly put my hands over my ears (which doesn't help!)

Mod Rock

Hi, I'm not deaf/HoH and my tinnitus is, as Rock said, mostly triggered by silence. I only get it in one ear (always the same one) and for me, it's almost always a very high-pitched, sometimes kinda buzzing sound. In my case it ramps up and when it does start I sometimes think that maybe it's an electronic device making the sound rather than realizing it's the tinnitus (even though I probably should be able to tell it apart by this point, but here we are).

My tinnitus has always been very distracting to me - it's really hard to continue whatever I was doing while it's going on (hard to ignore a loud "eeeee" or static noise playing on one side of your head). I tend to put on some music or even just Loudly Hum to tune it out because it's annoying. It just comes and goes, both rather quickly.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Hello, I have constant tinnitus and sensory processing disorder though am not HoH or deaf. For me, I barely notice my tinnitus until it's silent or if something, such as a headache, causes it to get louder (or at least sound like it gets louder.) I've had it for over a decade so I'm very used to it. Mine mostly takes the form of a high-pitched ringing, similar to ringing ears after a very loud noise, and whenever it is noticeable it annoys me more than anything. Whenever I do notice it, I, similar to what Sasza said, tend to put on headphones and listen to something until I forget about the tinnitus.

If you're going with cybernetics that help his tinnitus, I would recommend using something that lessens his tinnitus if he's got constant tinnitus like I do. There's no real-life way to even temporarily fully stop tinnitus if he has ear damage or a similar issue, but there are things we can do or treatments we can get to make it fade into the background. A cybernetic that helps his tinnitus would be best if it's something that lowers it to easier levels to deal with, not something that entirely erases it. I do like the idea of the cybernetics not always working- sometimes the treatment doesn't work for whatever reason on a particular day and when that happens, we have to deal with it, so I like that this also happens with him.

As for how it interacts with my sensory processing disorder, it really doesn't unless it's being particularly loud for whatever reason. When that happens, because my brain pays equal attention to both the tinnitus and whatever someone is saying, I may have trouble understanding what someone is saying. It might also block out certain sounds, such as light footfalls of someone coming up behind me, but really it's a fifty-fifty chance. It could be either my tinnitus causing me to not register the sound or it could be my sensory processing disorder picking up a different sound and deciding it's more important than whoever is behind me. Most of the time, having the two just feels like having anxiety and attention hyperactive deficit disorder. Both things are happening and it causes certain challenges, but they're two different things that don't usually interact or, if they do, I can't really tell which one is contributing what so now I'm annoyed with both of them.

Mod Aaron

#mod rock #mod sasza #mod aaron #tinnitus representation #anonymous

36 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 days ago

Note

Hey! RSV bachelor's/bachelorette when jealous please??

Sure thing :3

I didn't know, dear anon, whether you meant jealousy romantic or any other kind, so I stayed on the romantic. Also since there are hints in the mod about the relationships of some of the candidates (Paula/Anton, Zayne/Irene, etc.), some headcanons will list the candidates' partner as Farmer and others will be neutral. Hope it's ok! Thank you for your ask! 💕

_________________________________________

RSV bachelors/ettes when they're jealous:

If Jio had the ability to sizzle anyone he didn't like or those who let themselves get too much with his lover, there would be a whole circle of ashes around Farmer of all those losers. He has his trusty katana, though... Not that the elf doubts his partner's fidelity, it's just that sometimes they don't realize they're being flirted with. And Jio sees everything. He'll be a bit possessive near Farmer.

No, Corine won't keep quiet about the jealous feelings that have arisen. If something doesn't suit her, she points it out to Farmer directly, without all these games and guesses. She's not the jealous type, but she won't stand for boundaries being violated either by Farmer's interlocutor or by Farmer themself.

Despite all the Amethyst family drama throughout Zayne's life, with jealousy, cheating, and other not-so-nice things (thanks to his parents for a "happy" childhood), the future head of the family himself, fortunately, has not adopted all of this into his worldview about relationship with his partner. He doesn't feel jealous, trusts his partner, and believes that if someone is worried about something, they should share their problems with each other, because healthy relationships are built on honesty and communication.

Faye won't act directly, but she won't miss the opportunity to make passive-aggressive comments and snort in the direction of someone who allows themself to cross the line with her partner. That's the kind of nerve it takes to pry into a taken person's life, especially when she's standing right next to them! Her jealousy, however, Faye will deny if caught off guard with the question.

Anton is afraid. Afraid that he is not good enough for his partner, as his self-esteem has been low lately, to say the least. He's gotten it into his head that he's a total loser and still doesn't understand what his partner saw in him. Won't say his fears out loud, but will start constantly questioning if his partner really loves him and if he's good enough for them.

June, when jealous, stands away from people and starts smoking more than he should, as it helps him to distract himself a little bit from his negative thoughts. This is bad for his health, and Farmer can immediately notice it, to which June will not hide his jealousy. But then he'll apologize and admit that he should have shared his worries with his partner instead of withdrawing and soaking himself in tobacco smoke.

Blair's feelings of jealousy toward Farmer manifest themselves in a huge desire to prank the person who is flirting with her partner. The fisherwoman usually only restrains herself with her mischievous thoughts, as she doesn't want Farmer to think she is jealous and controlling. But if anything, she has stink bombs and itching powder at the ready. Don't mess with her and with Farmer.

Oh, Daia want to teach the cheeky one who's messing with her Farmer a lesson, and have some fun in the process. The ninja will appear out of nowhere, and immediately start flirting with Farmer, giving them a quick kiss on the cheek, putting a hand on their shoulders or waist, saying "I missed you so much, love~ Oh, who's this, your friend? Nice to meet you~" More often than not, the "suitors" will back off. If not - she has shurikens and a katana for those stubborn ones.

When feeling jealous, Shiro will stare silently and glare, but will not share his worries aloud. He already feels like a burden to the family because of his injuries, and that includes his relationship with Farmer. Somewhere inside his head there's a voice saying he's not good enough for Farmer and what they've ever found in him, a cripple. It's not true, but until Shiro voices his thoughts, he's going to think that way all the time when someone tries to hit on Farmer.

Poor Alissa... The girl only once saw some tourist trying to flirt with Farmer (to which they said they were taken btw), and that was enough for her to feel insecure. She realizes it's a stupid and irrational thought, but still.... What if she's not enough for them? Alissa will try to be with Farmer more often for fear of losing them.

Sean is not a jealous person, and doesn't see Farmer's friends and acquaintances as a threat to his and his partner's relationship. On the contrary, new friends, that's neat! Naturally, if someone starts openly flirting or hitting on his partner, the man will remind him that Farmer is already taken. Otherwise, he trusts them and doesn't feel jealous.

As the Governor's bodyguard, Bryle has excellent situational awareness, quickly recognizing threats and people's behavior. He can see both his partner's body language and the body language of the person his partner is talking to from afar, so if someone does start to do wrong moves, all Bryle has to do is stand next to his partner. After all, by having Bryle, they also have the 'scary dog' privilege. Bryle is confident enough in himself and his partner, so not jealous.

The jealousy takes Ian by surprise, as he hasn't felt anything like it before. It was hard for him to know if that person was trying to hit on Farmer or if it was just a casual conversation and he wouldn't want to chop off his shoulder and throw accusations. But if the feeling of jealousy arose again, he'd be blunt about it.

"Maddie, you-" "No, I'm not jealous!" "...want some blueberry pie?" Oh boy, because of the betrayal and pain of her past relationship, Maddie still has insecurities about herself and suspicion of her current partner's loyalty. The lab assistant is well aware that these are irrational thoughts underwritten by low self-esteem, making her angry with herself and, most unpleasantly, likely to snap at her own partner. Maddie tries, but she can easily become jealous towards Farmer.

If Philip feels jealousy, he won't say it to Farmer directly. But he would tell his close friends over a mug of something strong, trying to figure out whether hie is overreacting or it was justified. On the other hand, though, Philip realized that discussing the problem with anyone but Farmer was a foolish and unjustifiable decision. He would try to make amends.

Paula is lost, not knowing what to do with her feelings of jealousy. On the one hand, she wants to share her concern and talk about the time when the doctor thought that the situation was out of line. On the other hand - she's afraid that her insecurities and remarks will only make the situation worse. It's going to take her a little while to get her act together, but she does spill everything to her partner, hoping that communication will solve the problem.

Kenneth isn't too pleased when one of Farmer's friends is clearly trying to be something more than a friend (even though he and Farmer are officially a couple!), but the electrician trusts his partner to work things out for themself and draw the boundaries. Not to say he's trying to eavesdrop on the conversation anyway, he's just curious. Only asks who it was and what they wanted with Farmer. A sliver of jealousy, but nothing serious for accusations.

"Already taken, if you don't know." Maybe a bit blunt and harsh on Kiarra's part, but the girl didn't want to be left with ambiguities and misunderstandings. Farmer's friend, who had been a little too touchy-feely for a friend lately, might take offense at Kiarra's words, but the graphic designer would ask how Farmer's friend would feel if she was trying to flirt with their partner like that. Nothing personal, but respect boundaries.

Does Flor realize that jealousy is a desire for the undivided control of all the time and all the strength, mental and bodily, of another person, which is not healthy for her relationship with Farmer? Of course. Will she begin to address this issue with Farmer? Well... yes, but not right away until she's prepared to voice her thoughts. The red-haired girl is afraid to express herself in such a way that Farmer will not only not understand her, but will take her words to heart, so she wants to be careful. Maybe there isn't really a problem here?

Wait, someone wants to take Farmer away from Ysabelle? No on her watch! It might have been a simple misunderstanding, but the jealous feeling in the girl already surged like fire, and it made her do something about it. She would be by Farmer's side, holding their hand (they are a couple), kissing them and complimenting them (they are a couple, after all) and gently hugging them (they are. a couple. got it?). Wha- Of course not, she's not jealous!

Jeric isn't jealous type, and he knows from himself when just someone shows a mastery of eloquence without any hint of taking his partner. But he's also a virtuoso at speaking and complimenting, so he really doesn't mind battling someone in conversation. Of course he'll win, since he's charming and Farmer thinks so, right dear?~ Though a little later he'll apologize to Farmer if it was a little awkward. Jeric believes them, he just wanted to have a little fun.

22 notes · View notes

dreamwatch · 2 days ago

Text

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Word Count: Pt2 - 3670 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury- please let me know if you think I've missed any.

I'm posting in 3 parts, because this is nearly 12k in total, which is a lot. Mods - hope that's ok! I'll link them all together. :)

Part 2

Steve’s learned a lot about himself this past year.

He’s a good friend, for one, an excellent wing man, even if Robin continues to do her best to get in her own way.

He’s painfully patient with Dustin and the rest of the little assholes that have literally haunted his every waking moment for the last three years. He loves them, and they know it and they abuse that love on a near daily basis. Sadly, he wouldn’t change them for the world.

He doesn’t love Nancy anymore. He doesn’t want to think on that too much.

He’s done with dating. He’s done with the peacocking that comes with it, the effort of it when the person you’re with is just… okay. Nice enough. Inoffensive. He’s at that point in his life where he just needs something real, someone real, someone full of life, who makes him laugh, who wants to share everything with him. He’s done with quick fucks, the empty feeling of grabbing your clothes and sneaking out of bedrooms, of trying to get your pants on in the back of the bimmer. He wants love, and he’s not afraid to go after it now.

Oh, yeah, and he likes guys.

That’s probably not that much of a revelation, to him at least, Robin had been more intense about it.

“Now you tell me? Not when I was covered in piss and puke on the floor of a public bathroom, Steve, when I was sharing my deepest secrets with you, you tell me now, months later, you’ve had literally months, and it’s at this point in time, randomly while I am trying to re-shelve a weekend’s worth of returns, that you choose to drop this bombshell, this life changing moment, that you’ve been carrying around with you for, how long?”

“A few months.”

“A few months. A few months, he says like it’s no big deal. What is wrong with you?”

What was wrong with him was Eddie Munson. He’s still kind of getting his head around it all to be honest.

The guy thing was there for years, a low level thrum of attraction, of slightly too long looks, of grab-assing and horseplay in locker rooms and showers. Easy to pass off as nothing because they were all doing it, to one degree or another. Some, like Tommy Hagan, were less than subtle about it.

But the Eddie thing hit him like a bolt of lightning. Never saw it coming. One minute he’s a suspected murderer holding a broken bottle against Steve’s throat and the next Steve’s holding his hand while he’s cuffed to a hospital bed scared out of his mind.

There’s something to be said for seeing someone at their worst, there’s a pride from watching them climb back and knowing you had a part in that, being able to pat yourself on the back for it. But this isn’t the shared trauma that Robin talks of. This is pretty brown eyes and long lashes, this is dimples you want to sink your fingers into. This is hair you want to touch and hands you want to hold, and lips you want to kiss.

He’s spent so much time with Eddie over the last seven or eight months, and it’s snowballed; as the months roll on, the number of days they spend together has increased. At first it was to be helpful, for as much as the pair of them loved each other there was no way Eddie would feel comfortable with Dustin taking him to and from the bathroom to take a piss, or to hold his hair back when he puked, or to help him get dressed, or a multitude of other easy things that just became hard for him over night.

Steve could do those things for him. He wanted to do those things for him.

Eddie has other friends, sure, but Steve was there. He still has nights where all he can see imprinted on the back of his eyelids is Eddie’s corpse, can smell the penny scent of blood. His fingers twitch when he remembers how Eddie’s skin felt slippery, the sudden release of his chest as a rib breaks.

Those are things Eddie’s friends can’t know, and Steve is happy for them. He truly wishes he didn’t know, either.

They know things Steve doesn’t, however, and he needs their help.

Say what you want about Steve, but when he wants something he goes all out.

So dinner didn’t go well, but there’s not much he can do about that now. But just being there and seeing Eddie’s obvious pleasure at the effort at least did something to lift his spirits. And they had a nice evening, watching TV and talking late into the night until Eddie started to fall asleep on the couch and Steve took that as his cue to say goodnight, as much as he wanted to stay.

He nearly fucked up when he asked if Eddie wanted to hang with him and Robin for the day. He was like, ninety seven per cent sure Eddie would say no, the guy barely leaves the house these days, but just for a second he looked as if he was going to say yes. And that would have put a real crimp on Steve’s plans, because they had nothing to do with ferrying Robin around on a joy ride, and everything to do with Eddie.

He wakes early the day after Thanksgiving, despite the late night, which is not unusual for him; he still runs most days, he enjoys the feel of it, running through choice rather than because he’s trying to stay alive. It’s a decision he gets to make for himself, something he can own, and there hasn’t been an awful lot of that over the last few years.

But today he has a mission, and it starts with Dustin.

When he rolls up to the Henderson house it’s barely eight A.M., and there’s a good chance Dustin will still be in bed. So he does what the little shit heads would do. He bangs on Dustin’s bedroom window.

He peers through just in time to see a bundle of blankets tumble to the floor, Dustin smack in the middle of them. Dustin squints back at him before opening the window.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Your language is shocking, you know that? Is that Eddie? I need to keep you two apart, seriously.”

“I think my language it perfectly reasonable given it’s a holiday and it’s—“ he glances at his watch, “eight! Jesus—“

“—Christ, yeah, yeah I got it. I need help. Where does Gareth live?”

Dustin frowns at him, bleary eyed.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Uh, how about none of your business?”

“Uh, okay, how about I’m going back to bed now?”

Dustin moves to close the window, Steve reaching to stop him.

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” and for a second Steve thinks he might know where that language is actually coming from. “I’m running an errand for Eddie.”

“What kind of errand?”

This fucking kid.

“The private kind.”

“Why didn’t Eddie give you his address then?”

So, Steve’s tenacious, but maybe he doesn’t always think things through completely.

“Look, I’m trying to do something nice for Eddie, okay? The surprise type of nice, and no offence, but you’re just not that great at keeping your mouth shut.”

Dustin nearly chokes on his indignation. Steve just raises an eyebrow in challenge. The kid hasn’t got a leg to stand on, and he knows it.

“Fine!” Dustin huffs, then wanders into his room to find a pen and some paper. He’s back a second later, thrusting the yellow note paper at Steve.

“Thank you. Now was that so hard?”

Dustin flips him the bird in response.

“Okay, go back to bed you little shit. Call you tomorrow.”

“Make sure you do.”

And with that the window slams shut and Steve can’t help the fond smile as the curtains close.

As it turns out, Gareth doesn’t live all that far from the Hendersons. There’s something off about turning up outside someone’s house that early in the morning when you don’t really know them, and he can’t imagine Gareth is going to appreciate a knock on the door from him at anytime of the day honestly, so he sits in his car a few spots further up the street. He should have got a coffee and a donut, go the full Chief Hopper route.

Steve waits patiently for a little action inside the house, trying to gauge if people are up, had their breakfast, that kind of thing, when there’s a rumble from the opposite end of the street. He checks his rear view mirror and watches as a blue AMC Pacer struggles to climb the hill. He knows that car from the the Hawkins High parking lot, though it usually has music blaring from it. This morning it seems to be respectfully peaceful. He doesn’t get a chance to ponder it much further. It parks up outside Gareth’s place and Jeff climbs out, Matt pouring out behind him.

Steve waits patiently for them to go in the house, door opened by a bleary eyed Gareth with a nest for hair and blue check boxers fully on display. It takes twenty minutes for them to leave, this time everyone looking a little more awake. He pulls his keys from the ignition and opens the door.

“Hey.”

The three of them turn to face him all at once, glaring at him once they recognise him.

“Can we help you?” asks Gareth with a sneer.

Steve’s well aware these guys don’t like him, though he has no fucking clue why other than ‘you jock, me nerd’ which is total bullshit. He’s had a lot to work through this last few years, and part of that has been to stop apologising for who he was. Because firstly, he wasn’t that bad. A low key douche, but he wasn’t mean with it (Jonathan Byers being the exception, and he has apologised profusely). So you know, fuck these guys, honestly.

However, he also kind of needs them today.

“Uh, Henderson mentioned you were headed into Indy today? Shopping?”

“What’s it to you?” asks Matt.

“I need a favour. I have a— cousin? My cousin, yeah, so he’s staying with me at the moment and the guy’s had a tough year and I want to like, get him something nice, but I have no idea what.”

Jeff shakes his head. “We’re not personal shoppers, dude, how the fuck—”

“He’s one of you. He’s like a—” Steve gestures broadly at them, “Like, a metalhead, you know. And he plays guitar.”

“Oh my God,” laughs Matt, “There’s a cool Harrington? This is I have to see.”

And he and Jeff yuck it up, but Gareth isn’t. Gareth is looking at him, really looking and Steve thinks this was a fucking mistake. He feels a little naked out on this street, his insides on the outsides for this one person to scrutinise.

“Yeah, okay,” says Gareth, eventually. “So what do you want from us?”

He pulls a crumpled up page from the back pocket of his jeans. “This guitar store is having a sale, one day only. Store opens at ten, but like, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Matt grabs the paper from him. “Holy shit, you want to buy him a guitar? Can I be your cousin?”

“He— uh, lost his. And like, it was a big deal to him, you know? I can’t stretch to much, but I thought, maybe with the sale…” He shrugs.

While Jeff and Matt look at the ad, Gareth doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“Why didn’t you ask Eddie?”

It makes the other two pause and makes a little piece of Steve’s stomach drop.

“I was going to but, uh, he mentioned he was staying home. And you know, you guys know just as much about this shit as he does.”

He’s not above a bit of flattery to get what he wants.

“I need new strings, actually,” says Matt, staring at the crumpled paper.

“Shit, theres like fifty per cent off some of this stuff,” Jeff says, snatching the ad. “Time to get a new pedal.”

Gareth continues to try and bore holes through him with his eyes, so he decides to up the ante, offers to drive so they don’t all have to pile into Matt’s piece of shit Pacer, and he’ll buy them lunch, and sure, he’ll take them wherever they want to go in the city, and he’s starting to regret this, until Gareth says the magic word:

“Sure.”

It’s laced with suspicion and confusion, but fuck it, Steve will take it. He only needs them for a few hours.

The drive is uneventful. Jeff and Matt share college stories, telling Gareth about the parties they’re going to, the clubs they’ve joined, and in Matt’s case the pussy he’s getting. Steve nearly chokes on a Twizzler.

“Dude? ‘Pussy’? Really?”

“What? Since when have you been so puritanical? I can’t help it if the ladies flock to me.”

He’s desperately trying to not upset this particular apple cart, but Jesus they don’t make it easy.

Matt reaches through the back seats, looking to change radio stations, until Gareth slaps his hand and tells him to sit the fuck down.

“What about you, Harrington?” asks Matt.

Steve shoots him a look in the rearview mirror. “What about me?”

“Got any college plans?”

They have to know he doesn’t, and his skin itches with annoyance. He’s trying to be really nice for lot’s of reasons; right now because he needs them, but also their Eddie’s friends, Dustin and Mike and Lucas’s friends as well come to think of it. Jeff and Matt might not be around, but Gareth very much is. They weren’t around much to begin with, and Steve didn’t ask about that, not really his place and he kind of had bigger problems at the time, what with two friends in the hospital, El in hiding from the army and half the town crumbled to ash. But things seem to be better between them all now; Eddie has letters from them in a sweet little box he made on his desk, and a pennant from Loyola on his wall. Gareth comes over a couple of times a week to hang out with him. So it’s all on the up. But they still piss Steve off, and he’s entitled to that.

“Nope, just living the dream at Family Video.”

It’s a conversation killer, and he’s just pissed off enough not to care. Instead he cranks up the radio, Peter Cetera crooning The Glory of Love blasts from the speakers, though not loud enough to cover the groaning and Matt pretending to be sick.

They make it to Indy just before ten A.M. The store is much bigger than he expected. It also has a queue snaking down the block.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gareth smirks at him. “It’s a black Friday sale, man. Fifty percent off this stuff is no joke. You thought you could just wander in like it’s a fricking Kroger? Jesus.”

“I want my pedal,” says Jeff as he wanders to the back of the queue.

Matt shakes his head. “Well, I’m not waiting in line for that.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to cross the street. “I’m going to Tower. I’ll meet you back at the King-mobile in an hour. Enjoy getting trampled!”

“King-mobile?” Steve mutters under his breath. “Asshole can walk home.”

He spends an awkward thirty minutes in line, listening to Jeff and Gareth arguing about music and games and a load of other shit Steve doesn’t know anything about, before Jeff tries to include him in the conversation, seemingly to Gareth’s annoyance. Eventually they’re in, and goddamn there are a lot of guitars; floor to ceiling, brand after brand, every colour and finish you can imagine. It’s oddly exciting, despite the fact he can’t play and has no idea what any of this stuff is. He gets a flash of the odd price ticket and his heart sinks. He’s not short of money, sure, but some of these would make an impressive hole in his savings account.

Jeff and Gareth desert him almost immediately, off playing with the toys, so Steve wanders through the store on his own, knocking shoulders occasionally with actual musicians trying out guitars. There’s a hum of activity, snippets of solos and songs he mostly doesn’t recognise filling the space around them. He’s out of his depth, but all the assistants are busy, and he hasn’t got a clue what he’s asking for anyway. So he does laps around the store looking at each guitar trying to size it up.

He stops when he gets to a rainbow wall of B.C. Rich guitars. He knows which one is Eddie’s, a red and black Warlock that was lost to the netherworld when Eddie’s trailer fell into the the void. They don’t have the same one, and his heart sinks a little until he spots a glossy black version He reaches out tentatively.

“Not that one.”

Steve spins, and comes face to face with Gareth.

“What?”

Gareth looks conflicted, looks around as if he thinks he’s going to be overheard. The hustle and bustle of shoppers continues, the solos and music continue to cycle from song to song.

“Not the Warlock.”

Steve finds himself mirroring Gareth, eyes fluttering around the store, falling on Jeff as he tries out a pedal.

“I don’t—”

“I don’t know what he went through back in March, but I know it was bad enough for him to sell his guitar. So—”

“Wait,” Steve starts, raising his hand. “He sold it? I thought he lost it in the earthquake?”

Gareth shakes his head. “I was with him, dude. He was so desperate to offload it he let it go for a hundred bucks. So if you’re looking to get him a new one, which I think is a bad idea by the way, then maybe don’t replace the one he just got rid of with the exact same model. I’m guessing there was a reason he didn’t want it anymore.”

“Why are we talking about Eddie? I told you, this is for my—”

“—you’re cousin, right. Well, my advice is don’t buy your cousin a Warlock. He won’t thank you for it.”

And with that he slinks off into the store, joining up with Jeff as he tests out a pedal, leaving Steve standing in front of a wall of guitars with no fucking clue what he’s doing, and feeling horribly seen in a way he doesn’t have the fortitude to unravel in the middle of a guitar store in Indianapolis.

He goes back to the car, radio playing Duran Duran while he can enjoy it before the three ungrateful shit heads pile in and abuse his good will by mocking literally everything about him. Eddie getting rid of the guitar makes no sense to him, but the more he thinks the more it dawns on him that he’s never heard Eddie play. Like, not ever. Even without the BC Rich there are two other guitars in his room, and Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie over the last few months, and he’s never touched them once that he knows of. It doesn’t make any sense.

Except… his left hand shakes. A lot. And he rarely uses a knife, just uses a fork in his right hand, which Steve only notices because he notices everything about Eddie. Or he thought he had. He missed the biggest part of him. Eddie lost his music and Steve didn’t even notice.

Jeff and Gareth are back at the car on time, Matt only twenty minutes late, a record according to Jeff. True to his word Steve takes them to lunch, a diner called Sandy’s they all seem overly excited about. They’re talking among themselves and he finds himself content to listen as they talk about things they got up to with Eddie. Hearing about his escapades from before, back when Eddie was still just the school freak and high school super super senior, makes his chest ache. He wants to know that Eddie, wishes he’d had a chance to meet him and hang out before all the Upside Down crap stole their youth from them. But it hits him all at once that he could have had that, if his head hadn’t been stuck so far up Tommy Hagan’s ass.

He bites into his hot dog and keeps it to himself.

It’s late afternoon when they get back to Hawkins, and he drops everyone back at Gareth’s where they started this monumental waste of a day. Jeff and Matt thank him as they get out of the car, but Gareth hesitates before putting his hand on the door handle.

“Blue,” Gareth says, like he doesn’t want to, like Steve grabbed him by the throat and threatened him for it. “He likes blue. He doesn’t tell anyone, says it’s not metal.”

“Uh, okay…”

“And he gets the chilli dog, with extra onions at Sandy’s. With the cheese fries. And a large peanut butter malt. That’s his order.”

And like, what the fuck? Steve’s head spins with it, with the fact that Gareth knows something, he has seen something in Steve, and just how far does that go? How transparent is he that this kid who he barely knows has managed to just lift the lid on him and take out all his hidden parts?

“People haven’t been good to him. He likes you for some reason, so just, don’t fuck him up. That’s all I’m asking, man.”

And with that he gets out of the car, leaving Steve in a whirlwind of panic, and with problems still unsolved.

He needs to talk to Wayne.

#corrodedcoffinfest: black friday #corrodedcoffinfest #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #matt stranger things

22 notes · View notes

tmntonthebrain · 3 days ago

Text

Girls Look Better in a Real Tight Sweater

Content: 2003 Donatello x fem!reader

Warnings: Bringing alcohol to the function

Notes: Based off an edit I re-found on TikTok, aged up Turts (they are all late 20's). This is my first time writing for TMNT so please be gentle!

• ───────────────── •

It was Thanksgiving. Mikey was prepping all the dishes with Raph in the kitchen, Leo and Splinter were helping set up the table and drinks, and Donnie was tinkering with something in the corner. April and Casey would be over later, they had to visit their respective families first, but one person was coming over soon...one that everyone made sure not to tell Donnie.

You were walking down the sewer path with a brown bag in your hand. You knew you had to bring something...so why not bring something everybody could enjoy? You were wearing a cream sweater that hugged your body with some blue jeans. The sweater was a size too small, but you didn't have any time to buy a bigger size before the dinner.

Entering the lair, Leo looked up and his face brightened. "(Y/n)! So good to see you!"

The reason he spoke so loud was to alert Donnie. The turtle in purple froze mid-screw with his screwdriver. All of his brothers and his father knew of his feelings for you...but you had been none the wiser.

"Hey Leo! Hey Splinter! Wow, this is a nice spread." You admired the table the two of them had pulled out with the cloth and silverware sets.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," Splinter spoke, walking up to her. "What have you brought?"

Grinning ear to ear, you pulled the alcohol out of the bag. It was a clear blue bottle, very fancy looking. "I brought Moscato d'Asti for everyone to enjoy."

Splinter grinned and gently took the wine bottle from her. "This looks very nice. I'll put it on the table."

"Thank you, Splinter." You smiled.

"Why don't you go see Don? He's been dying to see you." Leo suggested, after giving you a little side hug in greeting.

"You read my mind."

Donnie hadn't seen what you were wearing yet. You were hoping to get him flustered, at least...you didn't know if he had returned your feelings, but you hoped he did. You figured you'd know based on his reaction to your outfit, even if you hadn't originally intended to make him flustered with it.

Walking up behind him, you tapped on his shell, a habit you had picked up on doing. You just liked the sound it produced when you did. He slowly turned, and when he did, his jaw nearly dropped on the floor.

"You...you're um..." Donnie stuttered.

"Here?" You chuckled.

"No...yes...wait...hold on..." Donnie swiveled back around and put his head in his hands.

He thought to himself. You looked so hot in that sweater...too hot! How could he ever hide how he feels after that?!

"Don?" You asked.

"J-Just a second! I'm uh...working with the toaster!" Donnie quickly picked up the trinket he was tampering with and in his haste, just pried it open...when the whole point was to put it back together.

You blinked a couple times before nodding slowly. "Okay...do you want a hug?"

"Just hug my shell."

Smiling, you leaned over him, your arms loosely around his neck when you hugged him. Donnie was damn near sweating now. He could feel how your soft chest pressed into his shell. He was gonna fucking lose it.

"Yo angelcakes! Get in here and help, Raph's about to kill me!" Mikey yelled from the kitchen.

"Coming! See ya, Donnie~." You purred in his ear.

He shivered. Well, if you didn't know before, you knew now.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my TMNT masterlist in case you wanna request something!

If anyone has any feedback, don’t be afraid to comment or dm me!

#tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2003 donnie x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt 2003 x reader #2003 tmnt x reader #2003 donnie #2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003

22 notes · View notes

red-carter · 2 days ago

Text

Giving Thanks

Now, I've seen my friends and their posts and replying. I wanted to make my own because I know that this one is going to be pretty long. At least, I have an idea that it's going to be pretty long. I won't be able to tag everyone, seeing as I don't know everyone's tumblrs and such like that. There's also going to be some not tags because I'd be too scared to actually tag these people.

I'm so very very thankful for everyone who's come into my life in the last year. I'm thankful to those who've been in my life for several years. My bestest sibs who won't likely see this for the many years that I've been with them, since first grade, middle school, beginning of high school and everyone in between. Those who I call family (not blood related), because you, and everyone I'm about to mention, have helped me in so many ways. As well as just because I'm so happy to have met you. Even if this is just for a season, long or short, I'm so glad to have made the friends and family that I've come across. Who've just been chill, or been there for us.

Thank you @imaginethat0327 for being an inspiration and being the person who helped me step out of my scared and anxious lil bubble I'd created around myself. You're such a lovely person, and I really look forward to our talks, no matter how long apart they are from the last one. Also big thanks to Livie because they've also been such a joy to have met and chat with. Always look forward to our chats <3 Through them I've also met @nyxcentury who's just as lovely. Though we've not talked too much, always love seeing you around. Same goes with Tipthewaitress (dunno their tumblr, so I hope that they see this), and the other lovelies of the Rescue Fire discord server.

@cat-in-the-desert .... I... There's so many things I'm thankful for from you. I'm so thankful that we got to meet, and that you've been such a wonderful friend to the point I consider you one of my closest friends. Genuinely. You're such a lovely person, always looking forward to our chats and hangouts <3

Really quickly, I'm so thankful to have come across @\nightdreamdraws art and animatics, and her AUs... They're so cool and I always look forward to any new art or ideas that they share. Cherrifire with seeing her creative take on the life series, and the amazing things they've done in this community. Magnifique! (Wish I could properly spell that word, apologies if it's wrong, or has no accents, I'm just trying to be wholesome here.... :)) There's so many others, their animatics, art, animations, edits, that I'm so thankful that I've gotten to see because everyone is amazing! I swear-!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

@ezzriin stares and blinks with an ever growing smile You're a lovely lil guy that I'm so grateful to have met. I wanna squish you /pos. I might have to DM you another paragraph I swear— So lovely, and a wonderful chaotic gremlin that I hold dear in my heart.

@foxhunter350 I would write a full paragraph if I could right now, but I'm trying to keep these short.... I'm thankful to have met you. Getting to write ideas and such with you has been such a blast, looking forward to more with you mate. So very grateful to have you in my life. /gen

@nine-of-diamonds, @1watermelontea, @crabbri stares blankly at you three You're all so amazing, I'm thankful that I came across Chasing The Horizon Line and got to meet you. The butterfly affect is something I think about constantly, and so thankful for in this situation. The chaos and fun that we've all had, I cherish it with my whole heart. Thank you for the amazing series to read and the fun times we've had and will have in the future. (please leave me out of this big ass polycule, not professing my love to you lot just yet, again.... /vsilly)

@writingwithaglassquill Quilly, Eilly, my beautiful darling of a muse? /silly /lh /p Lmao, sorry, that was a weird way to start this. I'm thankful to you, and I know I've told you this many times, but I'm forever grateful for coming across your story IHTH because it really gave me the urge to want to write again. You've done so much, you're a fabulous person, and I'm so glad to have met someone like you. A steady head to keep me from just completely sinking. (this is me professing my love /vsilly /j /p) Genuinely so thankful to have met you when I did, looking forward to the future ahead.

@gildedmicah18 Meka-Meka... Darling Micah. /vsilly /lh /p You're such a wonderful person to chat with, always looking forward to our chats. Thankful to have you in my life you amazing cutie you! (Really really wanna squish you and also may or may not see you as a little sibling.)

@nyxtheeclipse Hai. You're a cutie. <3 .... Yes, I was tempted to just leave it at that. My bad XD Anywooooo!~ Thankful to you Nyx for everything you've done. You're an amazing person, love you lots mate! Very creative, and always looking forward to what you make and share!

@yourfavouritevigilante (hoping this tags.... it's being funky) You're such a lovely individual, along with your system. We all love you. You're all like siblings to us and we're so very very thankful to have met you Tobes. Genuinely, we're always looking forward to getting to chat or hang out with you lot. So fun to joke with, or pick fun with each other or stopping fights (like earlier XD). Genuinely though, and I may say this far too much, we love you so very much. See you like a little sibling for reals. Or child, depending on if it's us, or Impy, Skizzy, and Jess. So grateful to have gotten to know you and hang out with you lots, squishing you all. (except those who don't like getting hugs which is a-okay)

@peridot-the-kitten .... Okay, I genuinely forgot the words I was going to start off with XD. I love that I've just confused you in CTHL hahahahah. I'm so thankful to have met you Lain. You're a lovely and creative individual that now? I can't believe you scared me before XD. Grateful to have met you, and gotten to know you. So many jokes and fun has been had, and you've been a wonderful grounding point in lots of stuff that's happened as well. Always looking forward to our chats and hangout sesses.... sessions.... Love you lots!!! (totally professing my love /vsilly /j /p)

@moonstarsongs You're a darling sweetheart of an angst lover. You've been such a wonderful friend and lovely individual to chat with. So very thankful to have met you and that I get to chat with you whenever we can (since different time schedules and whatnot). <3 <3 <3

@archaic-dragon You're very lovely, so glad that we've gotten to chat and whatnot. Seriously, so very thankful. You're amazing, got so much creativity, it's been wonderful to get to hang out and whatnot. Always looking forward to chats with you or gaming and such. Thank you Arcy!

@will-falling-fell Haven't chatted with you too much, at least that I'm thinking back on. But you're a sweetheart from what I can remember. I see you chatting with the others in CTHL and stuff, and it always brings a smile to our face. Grateful to have met you, even if we don't talk much right now, hoping to get to chat with you more in the future. <3 <3 <3 <3

@tinydekuscrub Hai darling! Love you lots. So very grateful to have met you. Pretty sure I say this almost anytime we chat really. You're a lovely person, and we love chatting with you and everyone else. Thanks for dealing with our smart and dumbass XD, and looking forward to all future chats and hangouts. (Guys, I swear, I'm too gay for this person, I really really wanna write more XD)

There's still many more people I could write out thanks for, but for now, I think it's best that this be it for a bit. Again, thank you to everyone who we've gotten to meet, who's given us ideas, given us new life and fun things to look forward to. Lots of good times in the future. Here's to another year of fun and laughter and even in the not-so-good-times, love you all so much!

#carter/carpet speaks

19 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 22 hours ago

Text

History grounds us.

History can help us find our footing. This is not because we can ever know what will happen next. It is rather because history can make familiar some consistent patterns of human life.

Such prompts for further thought are not analogies. When we think in terms of analogies, we get stuck on the differences, and those sticking points then becomes an excuse not to think historically at all. Of course what comes next in the 2020s won't be exactly like the 1790s or the 1860s or the 1930s or the 1990s — the reference points I am choosing here.

But in recalling these epochs (or others) we can start to see certain resemblances, certain patterns, and get ourselves thinking again.

In this spirit, I offer these four scenarios for Trumpomuskovia, the musko-trumpified America that is already upon us.

The 1790s. Rescuing Russia

One possible Trumpomuskovia rescues Russia: actively, passively, or just by collapsing. This scenario draws from the eighteenth century, the time of the partitions of Poland.

Empress Catherine’s Russian Empire, founded just decades before, was in trouble. It had no clear means of succession, and Catherine herself was the German wife of a murdered tsar (her husband). It saved itself by warfare in Ukraine, bringing under its control its fertile territories. Fortunately for Catherine the Great, its western neighbor, Poland, suffered from tremendous inequality of wealth, and was rent by struggles between clans of magnates -- or, as we would say today, oligarchs. One of her former lovers was made king. He did not always do what she wanted, but his Poland was not going to effectively resist. In this situation, Russia was able to intervene in Poland, brings about its partition, and claim Ukraine (beginning the relatively short historical period when Ukraine was ruled from Russia).

Today the Russian Federation, founded a few decades ago, is also in trouble. It has no clear means of succession, as its ruler has done away with democracy and established a personal dictatorship. He has a fantasy of Russian unity with Ukraine, based in some considerable measure on the exploits of the eighteenth-century empress, Catherine. Like Catherine, Putin counts on divisions within (and among) western powers. His campaign for Ukraine has been extremely bloody, and has brought the Russian economy to the point of collapse.

But like Catherine, Putin has favorites that are close to power: Musk and Trump. They will not always do exactly what he wants, but they probably generally will, and their will certainly bring a fractious oligarchy. Putin is counting on the Musk-Trump regime to rescue him by turning American power away from its allies and towards Russia. Quite a few of Trump's proposed appointments, and much of Musk's rhetoric, suggest that rescuing Russia will be the priority.

The 1860s. Secession

When Poland was partitioned at the end of the end of the eighteenth century, it was a shock. Could a major country simply disappear from the map? A second scenario is suggested by the 1860s, when the United States nearly did.

Some of Poland's rebels, such as Tadeusz Kościuszko and Kazimierz Pułaski, crossed the Atlantic to help America's fledgling republic, which they hoped would avoid the mistakes of their own. Kościuszko saw slavery as a curse that could weaken the United States, much as serfdom had weakened Poland. Unlike Poland, the young American republic faced no great neighbor, at least after the Louisiana Purchase of 1803 withdrawal of the British after the War of 1812. But the issue of slavery was almost enough to break the American republic anyway. In the aftermath of the Civil War, whites in southern states were able to exert disproportionate political power, by preventing African Americans from voting, and by dominating first the Democratic and then the Republican Party.

The United States in 2025 will be, in some sense, the victory of the old south. But is it a sustainable one? When people think of themselves as rebels they sometimes push too far when they actually have power. The social and cultural policies proposed by Trumpomuskovia are mainstream in much of the country, but not for most of the population. And the implementation of some of them, especially mass deportation, can reveal fault lines inside the federal government, between the federal government and the states, and among the states. An attempt to deport millions of people in 2025 could lead to clashes within and contests for control over the armed forces. Over the longer run, repressive social and cultural policies could lead to shifts of population, making the differences among the states still greater than they are. Trump has already been telling his people that the differences between them and the "enemy within" are greater than those between America and China or America and Russia.

Will Trumpomuskovia be stable? It is not a great leap for people to decide to move to California, on the logic that the state could make it alone, and already has a secession movement. Indeed, these moves are already happening.

From there it is a small step to start thinking of constellations of states that would be wealthier and more functional than the current United States. A west coast union would certainly be richer, and would have its own borders with Canada and Mexico.

It is sad to think about. But the next round of musing could easily follow: a west coast union plus Canada plus the New England, New York and Minnesota would have an economy about 2/3 the size of what was left of the United States, with a far higher GDP per capita, a better standard of living and longer life spans — just going by today’s numbers.

Such a hypothetical country would not have to worry about free trade with Canada, since it would be Canada; and it would not have to worry about free trade with Mexico, since it would have a border with Mexico. Unlike the residual United States, aka Trumpomuskovia, it would not be fighting a trade war with the European Union.

The 1930s: Electoral Fascism

This is the most familiar of the thought experiments and so probably requires the least elaboration. The resemblances are all familiar.

A politician who has attempted a coup d'état comes to power later anyway on the strength of elections, with a minority of the overall vote. He is supported by conservatives who want the Left to suffer and businesspeople who imagine that all he will do is suppress the trade unions. This politician speaks angrily of the media as "the enemy of the people" and condemns his political opponents as "the enemy within." He hopes for some kind of emergency in order to declare a state of permanent emergency -- for Hitler this was the Reichstag Fire of 1933, for Trump it could be something entirely imaginary. At that stage of fascism, an event in the real world could be made an element of a conspiracy; at the current stage, the event in the real world might not even be necessary.

Trump speaks, sensibly enough from his fascist perspective, of "Hitler's generals." What Trump has in mind is Hitler's personal control of the armed forces, which began in 1934 when soldiers and officers began to swear a personal oath to the Führer instead of an oath to the German constitution. It was indeed this event that made of Hitler the Führer, the Leader, rather than simply the chancellor or prime minister. Hitler's men opened their first concentration camp right after he came to power; if Trump's men are able to round up millions of non-citizens, they too will be in camps -- an institution, as we know, that can be turned to other purposes than its initial ones. The first major act of violence of Hitler's SS, aside from establishing those camps and running them, was a mass deportation of non-citizens.

From this scenario come the political lessons that I have tried to make familiar in other posts and in On Tyranny.

The 1990s: Reliving Russia

The fourth and final scenario is one that some of us will remember. Indeed, the 1990s in Russia might be seen not just as a point of reference, but as an origin story of Trumpomuskovia. In my book The Road to Unfreedom, I tried to argue that Russia, with its oligarchy, media monopolies, and fascism, revealed possible futures for the United States. This has never seemed a more reasonable place to begin an analysis than right now.

In the 1990s, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, men who became known as oligarchs struggled to control the parts of the economy that could return quick profits -- the minerals, the metals, the pipelines, the hydrocarbons. All of this took place against the background, especially in the West, of either intensely naive or intensely cynical free market ideology: what ever is happening in Russia must be for the best, since without the state the magical forces of capitalism will ensure growth, freedom, and democracies. Instead, the collapse of the state led to wealth inequality, a battle for final control at the top, the perfection of alternative realities and media disinformation, and now fascism and a war of atrocity against Ukraine.

In that struggle, a doddering elected president, Boris Yeltsin, was surrounded by a cluster of oligarchs. The successor they chose, Vladimir Putin, was eventually able to tame them all, and become the oligarch king, the boss of bosses. In doing so he did not clean up the system, but simply insured that all of the dirt was his own. This situation rather strongly resembles the America of today, with an elderly president, Donald Trump, surrounded by a cluster of oligarchs. The oligarchs have chosen his successor: JD Vance.

It is very hard to tell, right now, who is actually running the show, if anyone. All of the headlines are about shocking personalities who do not identify in any sense with the larger interests of the country. Elon Musk and his tame DOGE seem set to dismantle the parts of the American government that are profitable and seize them for himself. All of this recalls late Yeltsin, and thus the transition of Putin. A difference: ketamine and fentanyl for the White House, not vodka as in the Kremlin back then.

Here’s the twist: there is actually an overlap of personnel in the two scenarios, and so now we are perhaps dealing with one history, rather than the past as an inspiration for the present. When Putin was elected president of Russia in 2000, no one would really have imagined that he would not only survive the oligarchs but become their chief and still be ruling a quarter century later. So is the Putin in this scenario… Putin?

It is tempting to imagine that Putin, who has to be regarded now as one of the oligarchs around Trump, could also unexpectedly end up on top, as America relives the Russia of the 1990s. He certainly occupies quite a lot of Trump's mental space. He is working to bully Trump, to make him feel subordinate (for example by showing naked pictures of his wife on television). Nikolai Patrushev, a central figure in the Russian intelligence and security apparatus under Putin, reminds Trump that he has debts to pay. Putin clearly has like-minded allies around Trump, Musk most importantly. Some of the people at the top of Trump's preferred national security team (Gabbard, Hegseth) mix Putinism and anti-qualifications.

Or is the Putin in this scenario Vance? Putin is now 72, and Trump is now 78. Will either of them be around in four years? Putin’s mass murderer client Assad is on the run in Syria and the ruble is well under a penny. At some point, one can at least imagine, Putin’s charisma fades. It is not hard to imagine Trump or Putin or both expelled from oligarchs' island. Putin won after the 1990s as an outsider; who is the dark horse now? Vance is the closest thing to a Putin-like figure in this scenario: odd background, less money than the people around him, rich patrons, clear ideology, smarter than he seems. But might one of his oligarch patrons actually emerge on top?

Or could Trump himself, despite looking like Yeltsin, surprise us and end up being the Putin of the scenario, first getting close to the oligarchs, then using the government to freeze them out, and finally himself getting rich, as he has always wanted?

But if our Reliving Russia scenario is the helpful one, the crucial point of resemblance is the dismantling of government and the oligarchical claim on whatever is left. Who emerges on top is, in some sense, secondary.

Combinations

History helps, because everything that has happened was something that could have happened. And those things that could have happened, usually unexpected at the time, stretch our minds about what might happen.

In the near future, in coming months and years, these four scenarios can intersect and combine. A Trumpomuskovia that seeks to rescue Russia can also be one that relives Russia. A Trumpomuskovia that looks fascist is also one that risks secession.

History warns. It would be wonderful if these scenarios helped people in positions of responsibility to make good choices.

History surprises. Strikingly, we see in most of the scenarios presence of Ukraine: for the old Russian Empire, and for the present one, and for that matter for Hitler, whose chief war aim was the control of Ukraine. Ukraine is a useful shortcut as we try to evaluate Trumpomuskovites: what do they say about Ukraine? As a rule of thumb, those that wish for its fall also want the fall of the American republic. I would expect that the first actions regarding Ukraine will be a harbinger of what is to come for America if Ukraine is sold out, expect America to be sold for parts.

History enlivens. It gets us outside the box of the daily outrages and our emotional responses. As we think outside the box, we sometimes catch a glimpse of what is inside it. In all four of these past moments, we see the problem of inequality somewhere close to the origin of political collapse. Any future rescue operation for the American republic will have to begin there.

18 notes · View notes