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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

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texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

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chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption. a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?”

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough.

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says.

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her.

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways.

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet.

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?”

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out.

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face.

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.”

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.”

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?”

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?”

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?”

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece.”

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.”

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns.

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap.

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah.

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough?

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe.

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries.

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over, biding your time until your date arrives.

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad.

And then there’s Joel.

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real.

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone.

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you.

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are.

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down.

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender.

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic.

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks.

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears.

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.”

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.”

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons.

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive.

But at a cost.

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced.

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around.

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside.

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling.

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…”

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.”

“Yeah?”

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air.

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind.

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall.

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there.

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you.

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm.

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious.

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter.

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core.

“Joel-”

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic.

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back.

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you.

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you.

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-”

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard.

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move.

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response.

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth.

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask.

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers.

“I was right about you,” you manage.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating.

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.”

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…”

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?”

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel. “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt.

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.”

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low.

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed.

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him.

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over.

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.”

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust.

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.”

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone.

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible.

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–”

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile.

It hits you like a freight train.

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw.

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before?

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-”

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?”

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises.

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly.

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.”

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite.

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“This was nice. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay.”

part vi

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littleplantfreak · 5 months ago

Text

A Candle’s Memory

Pairing: Umemiya x Reader

Cw: Fluff and slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1782

I did this as an exercise that turned into me writing for longer than I was supposed to because I felt sad about leaving it unfinished. The Prompts were candle wick or an old flame rekindled (I did both) and the theme was : Preservation in preparation for the coming winter, we try to hold onto the last bit of warmth. Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Oh! Thank you @birinboom, min skat and my lovely beta reader. I wouldn’t have posted it without you 😘

Thunk

Snow hitting your window snaps your mind out of the book you were reading and breaks the immersion completely, causing more anger than fear. You know the face that pops up outside the window immediately as you give him a bored look. For a 12 year old, Umemiya's more dependable than most adults, dragging himself out of bed at 6:00AM to shovel the older neighbors' sidewalks. His cheeks and nose are stained red, and his sniffling causes the window to fog up.

When you crack the window halfway, the warmth is sucked out of your room, the wind blowing the candle you were using as a reading light out. Dog earring the page of your book, you reach out as your hands cover his cheeks, hoping to bring him some form of warmth. You really have to pity his poor skin with the way he gives it no more care than to wrap a scarf around his neck and sometimes bury his face deep in it to keep away frostbite.

"Whatcha readin' this time?" He asks, feeling the blood return to his face now that there's warm skin over his own frigid cheeks. The candle blown out stares him down while the wax cools as if faulting him for its death.

"Treasure Island. You should read it after I'm done." Because he should. You know his taste, and this is something he can get behind. Pirates and adventure for a boy who's got an equally adventurous dream roiling in his bones. He never asks what it's about, and you never tell him, both content at the surprise.

"I'll pick it up on my way to school," Is all he says to that before taking the matches off the side of the table and relighting your candle. He hops down a little ways, setting out to do at least two more sidewalks before he has to go back home and get dressed.

This routine continues until it stops snowing. Or at least you would think it would. He doesn't have any real reason to come back once it's warm enough, you'd think, but when he shows up on a morning without snow, you're a bit confused.

"I saw the candle going again and decided to stop by." He says immediately. It's still cold, but his face is much less irritated by it without precipitation.

"Are you...on a walk?"

"Something like that!" He says leaning into the window, giving no concern over how close he gets to you or the burning candle he almost knocks over. It'd be silly to say you didn't have a crush on him, especially with his constant morning attention and how his smile seemed to light up your room more than your candle ever could.

His eyes go to the book you're reading once again. This time the cover reads Hamlet. When he meets your eyes again, you let out a breath you'd been holding.

"This one is a tragedy, so you might not like it as much." It's more than you've ever said about one of the books before.

"Do you like it?" He asks, gray eyes dancing between looking at your bedhead and the pretty eyes that caught his attention the first time he saw you through the window.

"I do."

"I'll give it a try." He shows a softer smile, less thousand-watt and more warm sunny day. You're not sure if he can tell just how breathless it makes you when he does that. Surely he has to know. The thought of him smiling like that makes your heart twist in an unpleasant way, but you'll be damned if you ever let that monster win against showing him nothing but the smile you return to him.

The one morning you wish he'd come, he doesn't. The dread you feel lays heavy like a rock in your throat as the moving van comes that afternoon, dragging you away from your window. Before you leave, you look from the outside where he'd stand, seeing from his point of view what it looked like sans burning candle. Surely it must look more comforting with the flame and its golden halo.

When you think about him coming back to the dark empty frame, no longer allowed access, the tears you thought would be so easy to hold back fall painfully. The bookmark you lay out on the windowsill that your parents bought you as a birthday present sits limp and dead, and you wonder if it'll blow away before he finds it.

It does not blow away before he finds it, luckily. The unlucky thing is that you're gone. He's been kept away by a fever he didn't think would get worse after the first day. Try as he might've to meet you, the room spun, and he quickly and often became accustomed to the toilet those three days he was bedridden. The bookmark had small pressed petals and a pink tassel to match them. He holds it tight, looking at the window and feeling like it was a closed door.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When you move back to your hometown, you're well out of high school. The town has changed for the better as you walk through, seeing the community flourish with potted plants in front of stores no longer kicked and smashed, and kids walking together, no nervous glances to the alleyways anymore. You've got an inkling as to who's responsible for the change, but you brush aside thoughts of him even now, the nostalgia keeping you from reading any books you'd shared back then. You'd learned fast back then that rereading them only caused stormy waves to wash over you, soaking you in a delicate sadness.

There are plenty of books in the world. A few are off limits. If you saw him, though, would it allow you to read them again, the way you so desperately wish to? Sometimes you wonder if it's the books you miss or the interest Umemiya gave to both you and the pages.

You buy your old house from your parents, who never got around to selling it. It's run down and dusty, and the rooms are the same as ever. You can't bring yourself to take any room but your own from back then, setting it up differently except for the desk against the window.

The old scentless candle is now replaced with a sweet lemon one that you allow to burn while the window stays open well into the later evening. The lack of scent back then was only due to your parents who weren't pleased with your staying up past bedtime, hours into the next morning, and then sleeping when you got home from school until you started the cycle once more.

The house feels better now that you've got it clean, at least. There are carpets to rip out, and leaks to check. The backyard is overgrown, and the light in the shed refuses to work, but this is home. It feels more like home than the house you'd moved to all those years ago.

The next day, you walk back to your house from the library with a stack of three books nestled close to your chest. You can't help your eyes flickering to the large figure making his way to the door you've just come out of, and when you hold it for him, you're more sure than ever.

"Umemiya Hajime, is that you?" you ask, voice a little more enthused than you'd wanted it to be. He looks once, then to the door before he double takes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind, with the cutest pout you didn't know a grown man could make. Your name falls from his mouth like a question. "The one and only," you say, and your smile turns fond, remembering just how much tinier he used to be. You were always taller than him, at least from your seat at the desk, but now he towers above you.

"It's really you," he breathes for a moment, looking at the differences and picking them out easily. He feels like it was just yesterday that he leaned too close to your candle, singeing the end of his scarf by accident. He remembers the look of panic when you realized he was on fire and started smacking at him with your book. You'd ended up having to buy that one from the library due to the soot and small scorches to the cover from your rescue. He still has it on a shelf in his room, insisting he'd pay you back, but you said it'd be a late Christmas present despite it being closer to Valentine's day than anything. When he brought it up back then, you'd waved it off, stuttering something about how it was more about intention than actual calendar dates.

"Are you visiting?" He asks, not having heard that you were around from anyone, but you always were a bit more introverted.

"I bought my old house and moved back actually. There was a job with a 20-minute commute from here, so I figured it'd be great to be somewhere familiar. I didn't know Makochi changed this much." He sees the crinkle of your eyes and the smile you throw to him when you say the last sentence, knowing you've always been fully aware of his dreams. Seeing that was worth more than any praise. The look was praise itself, maybe, given how it filled his chest with a warmth that had him laying a hand there as his fingers played with the neck of his shirt as he tried hard not to fist the fabric.

"If I'd known, I would've stopped by sooner."

"You know now, so stop by whenever you want," you laugh, because years ago, he would never have been shy about it. The book you see he's holding has something pink attached. A memory surfaces, spanning over years of living in a separate, different place, only to settle right where a story ended. At least you thought it had ended, but maybe you'll have to crack it open again just to be sure.

"This time, you can come in through the door." You walk off with a wave, thinking about lighting that lemon scented candle again when you get home. You let it burn long enough last time for the memory to shape the wax into a nice, even pool, which will help the wick burn slow and steady once you relight it.

#mari writes #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker x reader #im never quite close enough to the theme as i want to be but i think it was decent enough

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potatogratins · 5 months ago

Text

— you're on your own, kid

꒰ summary ꒱ in the midst of an important game, a preoccupied yuki ishikawa thinks of breaking up with you. he plans to do so when he gets home, but different outcomes and realized feelings sets him up for another course.

꒰ genre ꒱ angst ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/gender-neutral reader ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 1,321 ꒰ published ꒱ august 31, 2024

꒰ a/n ꒱ another yuki one shot! i've honestly enjoyed writing him so much, even if this comes off as more depressing compared to two of my previous one shots. i still have a lot of ideas, some of which are halfway done. thanks so much for reading my other yuki one shots, and if you haven't, please don't hesitate to find them on my page and read them! if you enjoyed this, don't forget to leave out a comment! thanks again!

In every game, there’s a winner and a loser. For Yuki, he knows that there’s no winning or losing in this match. Because the game he wants to win isn’t on the court, it’s at home.

He doesn’t know when or where, but it began with the tiniest things: how the books were supposed to be placed, how the toothpaste was supposed to be squeezed out, or how the food was supposed to be cooked. Earlier on, he was less critical with how things went around at home—you were new to your humble abode, you were new to him. Things will adjust in their own time.

“Yuki, where am I supposed to put these plates?” You once asked.

Yuki put out the biggest sigh. “We’ve been living together for a year. I’m sure you’ll remember where they are.”

There was an inexplicable feeling in him, like he had wanted to hint the answer to you—no, not in that way. Perhaps, maybe, in a way that you’ll come to your senses and know the answer. He hates telling the obvious and the repeated, and the action of doing so is beginning to put pressure in his entire body.

You frowned, then began to open every cabinet, until he walked up and opened the very last cabinet for you.

“Remember, the plates go here. Please remember that. Please?” He told you.

You both looked at each other. Things will adjust in their own time, you both thought.

The opponent prepares to serve the ball. The cheers are loud, but to Yuki’s ears, they slowly falter away. The cheers turn into heartbeats. Yuki looks at the ball intently, but there’s a troubling thought at the back of his mind.

“Just tell me what you feel. Anything. I don’t care if it will hurt me,” You begged.

In the few weeks prior to the game, you and Yuki have bickered over things left unsaid. Maybe it was a terrible habit of his, but his emotions could never find a way out of his body.

“Why would you go around telling people what’s going on between us? I didn’t even know that you felt this way. I’m tired of going around in circles. Can’t you just tell me what you feel without putting out the important details?” You berated him.

“Let’s break up,” you told him.

He ran up to you and begged you to stay.

He said, “Things will adjust in their own time.”

They were a set of words that were supposed to help both of you put this relationship in motion. A prayer for every wrongdoing. Now, a chant to summon you and stay.

Before he knows it, the ball has been traveling around. He’s out of his trance, and chases after the ball. Now the ball’s in front of him, and all he needs is to get this point so he could at least savor a win before what he feels might be a major loss. Then he begins to jump, and when he’s up in the air, he’s in a different kind of heaven. It’s the only place where time stops.

Two years, you and him. But for Yuki, it was four years, for he had been yearning for you in the two years before you got together. He’s chased you—and oh, what a chase. He had always fantasized doing everything with you, from quick vacations to sweet nothingness. He’s wanted to do so many things with you, that he’s even thought about them in his sleep: He once woke up happily after seeing you hold a child in his dreams. But what a waste of time—all that imagining—has been.

For the path he took was always meant to be taken alone.

He spikes the ball, hoping to get the final point, but the ball lands outside the boundary line. The cheers are now in absolute silence. There’s a look of disappointment from his face, but God knows what caused it.

Yuki will be preoccupied with the game’s loss for the next hour. But when he travels all the way back home, all he’ll think about is you. He will rehearse the lines he plans to tell you when he walks in the door and finds you sitting on the couch. He will drink the remainder of his water bottle at one of the stop lights because he knows that he’ll be raising his voice at you. When he parks his car and gets his bag out of the trunk, he’ll have to take in a few deep breaths, wasting ten minutes in the parking lot. He’ll pace around the elevator as it heads up.

Then when he finally gets home…

You’re not there.

He goes around the house, searching for your belongings. Your Snoopy cup is gone, and so are your floral plates. Your clothes have been cleared out from the closet, as well as the photos that once sat on the vanity mirror. Your DVDs are gone from the shelves. Only one toothbrush sits on the cup in the bathroom.

It seems as if everything is a dream. If anyone walked in on him at this very moment, they would assume that he lived alone. All the proof that you once lived here is gone.

He sits down on the couch and stares at the floor. He’s imagining things again: he should chase after you once more, and ask you to stay. Why did he think of throwing you away? Who’s going to ruffle his hair now? Or kiss his fingers every time they hurt? Who’s going to listen to his every thought? Who will be the cause of his happiness?

He damns himself. The way he hesitates. The way he hides. The way he sometimes looks down on you when he now realizes that he’s not any better.

He lies down. As he adjusts his head to the pillow, he feels a hard object behind it. He finds a small Cinnamoroll miniature. You once told him that this tiny dog was your son, and you squealed every time you’d see Cinnamoroll in the mall. You joked that you’d replace all the household items in the house to make them Cinnamoroll-themed, and that everything your children would inherit were going to be related to that small, white dog. He’s thinking of keeping it, for in this miniature was his hopes and dreams for and with you.

As Pablo Neruda once wrote, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

For the next few months, he’ll put it in his pocket when he goes out for groceries. He’ll hide it in the bottom of his bag when he travels. He’ll kiss it before every game.

The photos on his phone mean nothing. The miniature is the only remaining testament to your existence, your touch. It’s the hope that you’ll get back together. He knows you’re out there, wanting to get back together with him. You will get back together. He knows because, according to him, he knows you.

What a foolish thought.

In his four years of knowing you, you were always one step ahead of him, and it seems that he was none the wiser about that fact.

A year later, he looks at the miniature after a game. He stares at it, then throws it into the trash can. Then he forgets about it, and then you. Days pass, then weeks, then months. You’re no longer you, but a former lover, an individual of meager importance. In the story of his life, this paragraph is the last you will find yourself in.

For the path he has walked has been lonely and bare, for many years he will continue to walk by himself, and till the end, he will walk alone, and the path he will walk is long and far, with nothing but the endless road when he turns and looks back.

#mine #mine: ishikawa yuki x reader #yuki ishikawa #ishikawa yuki #if he comes out as taken after i post this im gonna cackle #yuki if he fumbled you

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24hlevi · 1 year ago

Text

— fatal attractions

lucy gray baird (tbosas) x gn!reader

genre: angst/fluff

summary: you always were there when lucy gray was performing. except the day you weren't.

warnings: language

wc: 2.2 k

did i binge read the book in two nights to write something for tbosas? well, yes!

every time lucy gray was performing, you were there. somewhere in the crowd whether it was big or small, you were always there to watch her sing. she spotted you easily every time you came, a fond smile growing on her face at the mere sight of you. the two of you were quite close, but not as close as she wished it was. she would be lying if she said her heart didn't speed up every night she saw you watching her in the crowd.

then one day, you didn't show up.

she immediately noticed when she walked on the stage with her guitar in her hands, for she would always search for you first thing every time. she scanned the crowd a few times, trying to spot you, but she couldn't. her eyebrows furrowed together for a split second, but no one seemed to notice. she felt a twinge of pain in her heart as she realized you really weren't there for once, but, as always, she put a smile on her face, and performed.

it wasn't noticeable to the crowd that she wasn't focused on her performance, but it was incredibly noticeable to her. her mind was wracking through reasons on why you wouldn't be here, but she couldn't figure out a good one. maybe you forgot? but, that wouldn't be possible because lucy had just reminded you yesterday. or you were running late? however, that thought was long gone after she was halfway done. what if you were with another girl? that’s the one that made her almost stutter and forget the next lyric to her song. surely, there was no way that was the answer. right?

as soon as lucy gray got off the stage, she let out a quiet sigh and tried her best to stop thinking about you. unfortunately, that was extremely difficult. she didn't want to think that you might be with some other random girl, but it wouldn't leave her brain. she walked away from the area, running her hand through her hair as she took a breather. she couldn't believe how she was feeling. the fact that she was jealous of the possibility that you were with someone else, it wasn't even confirmed. you were allowed to hang out with other people, to date other people. while lucy wasn't dating you, there were definitely times that made her question it by your actions and words.

“what's wrong, lucy gray? cat got your tongue?” you teased with a smile. you had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other resting on her cheek, gazing down at her flushed face.

“no,” she shook her head slightly, smiling back up at you. “you just have a way with words.”

“i know,” you replied. “but you like that.”

“whatever you say,” she put her hand on your chest to stop you from moving more closer to her.

she never admitted it, but she did like how you seemingly always knew how to fluster her. no one else could make her like that except you. she wished she was the only one you did that to, but she ended the night feeling like she wasn't.

it wouldn't be a surprise to her if you acted that way towards someone else. you did have a way with words, and any girl would jump at the chance to be that only girl. so she wouldn't be shocked if in the next few days you said you were dating someone. she just wished it was her instead. with a heavy heart, lucy gray found herself falling asleep with you not leaving her mind, not even in her dreams.

the next day, lucy gray awoke with that heavy feeling in her chest again. you were usually there by the time she woke up, but again, there was no sign of you. did you sleep at someone else’s home? you normally don't, claiming that sleeping next to a girl so beautiful like lucy gray would give you better dreams than if you slept alone. so then, why weren't you here?

she didn't want to think that you found someone else. she didn't want to believe that you were sleeping soundly with another girl in your arms. she didn't want to know that she wasn't important to you anymore. she physically shook her head at the thought as she stood up from her duvet. you probably just forgot or slept too much. but, you were never that careless when it came to lucy gray.

she walked out of her little hut that she called home, looking around as the sun was just peeking out over the horizon, hoping she would see you walking towards her, only to not see you. a small frown formed on her face, and she started walking in no particular direction.

the seam was her home, and to not see you walking around or talking to someone else for her to interrupt was odd. she missed you, despite having only not seen you for one night.

“lucy gray!”

she swiftly turned around, her dress flowing as she did so to see you jogging towards her. while she usually smiled as soon as she saw your face, her expression didn't change, which you noticed immediately.

“are you okay?” you asked once you reached her, panting slightly from running.

“where were you?” lucy gray shot back a question, ignoring yours.

your eyes widened subtly at her question and tone in her voice, one you hadn't seen nor heard in a while. you knew she was asking about last night, and you felt your throat dry up at the question. “what?” you chuckled nervously.

“you didn't show up last night,” she said. “where were you?”

“what? did you miss me or something?” you smiled, but she didn't. ‘fuck, she's serious’ you thought to yourself. you didn't blame her, though. you always showed up to watch her. but, you couldn't tell her the reason why. that the reason you weren't there was because of you trying to set something up for her. “i had to do something.”

“with someone else?” she questioned.

now you were getting confused. did she think you were with someone else? i mean, technically yes, but not in that kind of way. how the hell were you supposed to explain yourself without giving away the whole thing? “no,” you shook your head. “i was setting something up.”

lucy gray raised an eyebrow towards you. “you don't have to lie to me, you know.”

“i’m not lying,” you shook your head again. “i really was setting something up.”

“for who? a girl you like?”

you wanted to say yes, but you couldn't. if you did, she would immediately think it was someone else and not her. you were stuck. “kind of?” you answered in a confused voice. “but listen it's-”

“who is she?”

you froze in your spot. fuck, you were really stuck now. do you lie? no, that would make things 100x worse than they were now. do you tell the truth? but then it would ruin the whole thing. “well,” you started. “she's uhm someone you…know. like, really good. uhm, she uh, is really sweet, and truly the most beautiful girl i've ever seen. uhm she-”

“okay, i get it,” lucy gray waved her hands around to stop you from continuing. “whoever she is, i hope it was worth it.” she then turned and started to walk away.

“what? lucy gray!” you called out, following after her.

“stop following me, y/n!” she exclaimed. “i don't want to hear more about some girl!”

“it's not like that!” you raised your voice hoping she would listen. “lucy gray!”

“leave me alone!” she screamed, pushing you away from her with incredible force you didn't know she had.

you landed on the ground below her, staring up into her brown eyes as you opened your mouth, but only her name fell from your lips. she continued on walking away from you and you looked down at the ground, not moving. you put your face in your hands and sighed. that went much worse than you expected it to go. but, you did give terrible answers to avoid telling the truth.

you cursed to yourself as you eventually got up and dusted the dirt off of your pants. how were you supposed to fix this? you didn't know how to. so with another sigh, you turned around and went back to what you were setting up in your home.

that very night, you sat on the floor of your little home that only accompanied you inside. with no siblings or family left alive, you found yourself alone with a bottle of some liquor you’ve had for years. you stared at the door, the world spinning slightly as your thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour. you wanted to find lucy, and explain yourself the right way, but you weren't sure if she would be annoyed by the sight of you after your fuck up. you took a swig from the bottle and set it down, pushing yourself up off the ground and stumbling to the door.

the alcohol in your body was pushing you to move forward, opening the front door and walking out. you didn't know what time it was, but you didn't care at the same time. you needed to see her. you stumbled down the dirt road, your head spinning as you tried to focus your eyes to find her home. you almost tripped over your feet and steadied yourself as you found yourself in front of her door.

you raised your hand and knocked a few times on the door, swaying from side to side as you attempted to stand up straight. when she opened the door, her eyes widened at the disheveled sight of you.

“y/n? it's late, what are you doing?” she asked you.

“wanted to see you,” your words slurred together as you spoke.

she narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to you, smelling the alcohol and raising an eyebrow. “have you been drinking? how did you even get any?”

you ignored her questions, grabbing her hands with yours. “please just listen to me. i'm sorry for lying earlier.”

“lying?” she questioned, confused. “y/n, i really don't want to listen to you talk about some girl you like.”

you shook your head. “you don't understand. it's you.” you told her.

her eyes went wide at your words, her face turning red as she chuckled nervously. “what?”

“i was talking about you. i wasn't there last night because i was setting something up for you. it's you. it's always been you. i love you, lucy gray.” you proclaimed.

“you're drunk,” she shook her head, but didn't pull her hands away from yours.

“maybe,” you nodded. “but if you come with me i promise you it's the truth.” you said hopefully.

she hesitated before nodding. “okay.”

with her hand still holding yours, you walked her out of her home and made your way back to yours. it was silent the walk there, and you were unsure of how this would go. you were praying it would work out well.

once making it back to your home, you turned to face lucy gray and pulled your hand away. “close your eyes for me.”

“what?” she asked.

“please?” you said.

she just nodded and closed her eyes. you went into your home and grabbed what you were working on and walked back outside.

“okay, open your eyes,” you told her.

she opened her eyes and a gasp left her mouth at what was in your hands. a brand new guitar made from scratch, with her initials engraved in it. you waited for her to say something, suddenly growing nervous.

“did you make this?” she asked quietly, taking a step forward and letting her hand drag across the wood.

“yeah,” you nodded. “for a few months now.”

she looked up and could see the anxiety on your face. her hand moved to cup your cheek as she smiled. “i love it,” she whispered as she leaned in and kissed you.

your heart skipped the moment you felt her lips connect with yours, and you immediately reciprocated, smiling into the kiss. when she pulled away, you smiled down at her.

“i’m really glad you like it,” you said.

“of course i would. anything you make i would love,” she responded. “and, i love you too.”

your smile grew bigger at what she said. “really?”

“yes,” she nodded. “i’ve loved you for a while, now.”

“which is why you were jealous over someone who didn't exist,” you replied with a short chuckle.

“how was i supposed to know with the terrible answers you gave?” she jokingly asked.

“i know, i know,” you said. “do you want to sleep here tonight?”

“i wouldn't mind,” she answered, smiling up at you.

“and you’ll sing me a song?” you asked with hope.

“i suppose,” she laughed.

“sounds good to me,” you grinned, kissing her again.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #tbosas x reader #lucy gray x reader #tbosas imagine #lucy gray imagine #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray baird imagine

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veliseraptor · 29 days ago

Text

December Reading Recap

It's not that late in the month! It's still January!

long-ass post cause I read a lot last month; putting it under a read more to save your dashes.

Feast of Souls and Wings of Wrath by C.S. Friedman. I've really enjoyed this series so far, which has been sitting on my shelf forever because it shares an author with the Coldfire Trilogy, which I love. I read a complaint about it that was criticizing the fact that the male characters are less well developed than the female characters, which is, to be fair, kind of true, but also the female characters are pretty great so I'm not really complaining. It's got some gender issues as one might expect from a early 2000s fantasy series, but fewer than I would've feared, and it's interesting enough in terms of the worldbuilding and story it's telling that I've put in the effort to track down the books (which aren't the easiest to find anymore). Looking forward to reading the last one, slightly delayed by my used copy getting lost in the mail.

Super-History: Comic Book Superheroes and American Society, 1938 to the Present by Jeffrey K. Johnson. I don't know why I keep reading books about superhero comics when they keep disappointing me, but for some reason I do keep doing it. Very shallow analysis and I learned absolutely nothing new from this book. I suspect I spent too much on it. Ah well.

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh. Me and novellas have a love-hate relationship - when I like them I really like them but a lot of times they don't work for me. I've had this one on my shelf for quite a while and was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it. A lovely little story with the texture of a fairy or folk tale.

Seduced by Story: The Use and Abuse of Narrative by Peter Brooks. This book was interesting but not quite what I was hoping for - I wanted more of a dissection of the way that the tendency to narrativize everything can be problematic (in the academic sense) but I felt like that ended up being less the focus than I wanted it to be, and that there were fewer examples of the trend than there could have been. I think I found the first chapter the most compelling of the five, personally.

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill. I really enjoyed this book while I was reading it and then read a bunch of critical reviews and was like. Hm. Maybe this wasn't that good after all. So I'm not sure what to make of that - either my own taste is bad or I was just enjoying the ride too much at the time to notice. I suspect the latter might be the case. Not that it was bad, but it was certainly a somewhat shallow and obvious metaphor, and I feel like the return of the dragons halfway through the book ultimately weakened the book as a whole.

Bird Box by Josh Malerman. Not my favorite work of horror but I did love that (a) everything remained unexplained all the way through to the end and (b) the sustaining of tension was impeccably done. I powered through this book in a single plane ride, pretty much, because the pacing dragged me through it without wanting to stop.

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo. I've had this novella on my shelf for ages too, and while I didn't love it quite as much as I expected to based on the responses I've seen elsewhere, it was a good one, and actually felt well suited to a novella (which is sometimes my issue with them). I'm going to be picking up the sequel, when I get the chance.

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier. Apparently this past month was the month of (a) picking up books that'd been sitting unread on my shelf for a while and (b) fantasy books from the early 2000s. I enjoyed this one but wasn't overly impressed by it, on the whole; certainly not enough that I'll be picking up the following in the series, though that's partly because what drew me to this one in the first place was the conceit of the fairy tale retelling. And I will say that, of the fairy tale retellings I've read - and I've read a fair amount - this was one of the better ones.

The Hunter by Tana French. Been a long time since Tana French, and also I always forget how much I like reading mysteries until I read another mystery. Also how much I like Tana French. I really liked this one and I'm glad I finally got around to it.

Orbital by Samantha Harvey. Read this little novel on a recommendation from my father and while it's certainly not my usual fare I'm glad I did. I'm not totally sure what to make of it as a whole but just in terms of the reading experience, and the prose itself, it was a pleasure to read.

The Secret History of Moscow by Ekaterina Sedia. Yet another book that I've been meaning to read for literal years! I don't even remember when I picked it up or why, I think it was sort of an impulse purchase possibly based on a blurb comparison to Neverwhere. I didn't love it but I'm glad I read it just the same - there's definitely something about the texture that reminded me a little of Sergei Lukyanenko's books, which I remember really liking and now kind of want to reread. I wonder how hard those are to find these days.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho. Definitely one of my favorite books I read last month. Possibly the favorite. I really liked Zen Cho's other work I've read but I think this is my favorite of hers, and definitely comes with a recommendation - also cements that I'm going to be looking for more of her work in the future.

Wonder Woman Unbound: The Curious History of the World's Most Famous Heroine by Tim Hanley. Yes, another history of comic books and another...well, it wasn't as much of a disappointment as the other one, but I still found it fell short of what I wanted, particularly in the analysis of more modern comics. The skating over of Greg Rucka's run felt particularly egregious to me, personally, and I don't think that's just because I really like it. I did learn some things from it, but on the whole found it less than edifying.

The September House by Carissa Orlando. One of my other favorite books of the month and one of the better works of horror I've read in a while - the profoundly unreliable narrator and the gradual reveal of just how unreliable is very well done. I'm not sure that the twist on the twist worked for me - that it wouldn't have been better with just the twist - but I felt the book was well done enough to earn the benefit of the doubt on that front.

American Scary: A History of Horror, from Salem to Stephen King and Beyond by Jeremy Dauber. Better than the last history of American horror I read, but still not particularly outstanding in terms of the actual analysis, and I didn't learn a whole lot that was new from my other readings on the topic.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman. I've not read any Lev Grossman before because I heard pretty mixed things about the Magicians Trilogy, but my sister recommended I give this one a try and I'm glad I did. I'm not deep in Arthuriana, and perhaps someone who was would feel differently (and I'm not totally sure how I feel about the ultimate antagonist choice), but I liked the way that it used lesser known/more obscure knights and I'm always a sucker for a good aftermath-of-a-collapse story. I guess that's the post-apocalypse literature fan still in me despite the fact that I haven't read much of that genre recently.

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun: Vol. 7 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou. I'm so glad that we've hit this point in this novel. I'm especially glad because it's now passed the point where the human translation stopped so I can actually read something that's not a (cleaned up) machine translation. But mostly I'm glad because this is the point of the story where things really get juicy (for me, specifically). As usual, the next volumes can't come out fast enough (but also please, translators, take your time).

Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster on the Edge of Space by Adam Higginbotham. I read Midnight in Chernobyl and really liked it, so I was excited to read this one and felt like I was suitably rewarded, despite being loosely familiar with the outlines of the central story. This book went more deeply into the lead up to the Challenger explosion, and how the warning signs were there for many, many years prior to the launch itself. Compellingly written piece of reportage.

Our Dogs, Ourselves: The Story of a Singular Bond by Alexandra Horowitz. I really enjoyed reading the previous book by this author, but I felt this one was a little...I'm not sure. Sentimental? Polemic? About the author's personal feelings rather than a more scientific/information angle? It was more a book of personal essays than anything else and while that might have been fine it wasn't what I was looking for.

Monstress, vol. 9: The Possessed by Marjorie Liu. Every time I read a new volume of this series I feel like I should go back and reread everything that came before. Continues to be That Good, though, and I'm going to be following this one for however long it goes, which still feels like it could either be a while or not that many more volumes. I'm not reading that many graphic novels these days but I'm happy to be keeping up with this one. If I felt like returning to my old vice (single issues) this would definitely be a series I'd follow month by month.

A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes. The entire time I read this book I kept thinking "The Silence of the Girls did it better" and that really, I feel like, sums it up for me. I just wasn't impressed! It wasn't actively bad, didn't contain anything that really pissed me off, but...just felt thoroughly mediocre, and I came out of it not sure what all the fuss was about. So I guess mark another Greek myth retelling down as a disappointment. (And yet, like comic book history, I keep reading them anyway.)

The Fisherman by John Langan. Two whole horror books I actually really liked this month! I've had this one on my list for approximately forever and I feel like it was worth the long wait for me to finally get around to it. I'm a little sad this author doesn't seem to have published anything else, because I would love to read more by him.

The Remaking by Clay McLeod Chapman. On the flip side, horror that was, while not unpleasurable to read, not particularly good. It was very much the definition of "fine." I don't regret the experience of reading it but I wouldn't recommend it either, and probably won't be picking anything else up by the same author.

Black Sun Light My Way by Jo Spurrier. I'm still excited about this series, currently reading the third one, sort of want to make other people read it but (a) it's not that easy to find and (b) I feel funny recommending it for reasons I can't fully articulate. But I definitely have a new terrible blorbo and a new even worse threesome ship and I'm sure there isn't any fanfic. Thank you so much @mongooseland for introducing me to this one.

---

So that's December, in books. Like I said, currently reading North Sun Guide Me Home by Jo Spurrier to finish out that series, and then I'm reading the next volume of QJJ that just came out in translation, and then I'm planning on The Legacy of Kings by C.S. Friedman to finish out that series, and after that...not totally sure. Might go back to trying to rotate through genres, but probably not. Maybe there's some more early 2000s fantasy that's been on my list for a while that I can read. We'll just have to see.

#reading recaps #sometimes i read things #long post for ts

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fandomfucker · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, can you write about reader (who's also a wrestler) forgetting damians birthday until rhea texts her and she gets sad and panicky and runs to a near target to get him a perfect gift and ends in a soft smut

18+ Warnings: smut!!- sub!Damian, dom!reader, bondage, no protection used

AN-I've never written smut before so please forgive me for the quality of this. hope you enjoy anyways though

Word count: 1,820

Rhea: Yo, you never got back to me are you coming to Damian's birthday dinner tonight?

Y/n: TONIGHT?????

Y/n: his birthday is today?????

Rhea: Yes?

Rhea: Did you forget???

Y/n: YES😭

Y/n: FUCK

I had been so insanely focused on my matches coming up I had entirely forgotten Damian's birthday. I hadn't even gotten him a present yet!

Before the panic completely set in, I stopped and took a deep breath. It'd be fine. Everything would be fine. I just had to go find something to give him.

Running around our shared house, I got dressed and ready, snatching my keys from the hook by the door as I raced outside to my car.

I sped down the road to Target, hoping I'd be able to find exactly what I wanted. I had been thinking about what I wanted to get Damian for months but never found the time to go get it.

Hurriedly parking, crooked as fuck I might add, I rushed inside, grabbed a cart, and made my way to the men's clothing section.

Damian needed some new shorts to wear around the house after he ripped the last ones messing around and trying to do the splits.

I finally found a couple of pairs that I thought he would like in his size before going to the home section.

Grabbing a cute little basket I found, I then ran around for the next 45 minutes getting his favorite candies and snacks, two books he's been wanting to read lately, and some other various little things I found that I thought he would like.

Trying to make my way back to the registers quicker, I took a detour through the toy section and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the WWE section.

Front and center on one of the shelves was a Damian Priest action figure.

Grinning wickedly, I picked it up, put it in my cart, and went on my way to checkout.

Back at the house, I ran around cleaning up and setting up Damian's birthday surprise, trying to get everything done and ready for him before he got home.

Two hours later there was a cake on the counter, balloons and streamers everywhere, and presents filled the space in front of the mantle.

Halfway through making a special birthday lunch for Damian, I heard the front door open.

"(Y/n)?" Damian yelled through the house to locate me.

"Kitchen!"

I felt arms wrap around my waist from behind as I continued to make Damian's favorite meal.

"Smells good babe." His deep voice grasped in my ear as he kissed my neck. I could feel his chest rising and falling against my back as he took a deep breath.

I just hummed in response and moved my head to the side to allow him more access.

"Go ahead and take a shower, birthday boy. Lunch will be ready soon," I told him.

He squeezed my waist in response before kissing my cheek and walking away to our bathroom upstairs.

Adding the last finishing touches to our special meal, I set the table with all the silverware we'd need along with a fresh bouquet and a few candles for ambiance. I put all the food on the table just as Damian walked down the stairs.

All he had on was a Judgment Day T-shirt and some grey sweatpants which made me swallow thickly as I avoided eye contact and invited him to sit down.

He stared at the table and its contents in awe. "Wow, (Y/n). This...this is amazing. You really didn't have to do any of this. Thank you."

He held my hands in his much larger ones, making sure to hold my gaze so I'd know just how sincere he was being.

I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away. "Alright, alright. Let's eat before it all gets cold."

Settling down to eat our lunch we chatted idly as we ate. Towards the end of lunch, I was engrossed in telling him a story of something that happened at work when I stopped mid-sentence.

I felt something moving up my leg that shouldn't have been there. Damian just raised an eyebrow at me, questioning me without words.

I just shook it off and continued telling my story before abruptly pausing again when I felt the thing move to my inner thigh.

Looking at Damian I caught a quick snippet of him smirking at me. It was his foot. His foot was going up the inside of my thigh.

"Damian," I spoke in a low warning.

"What?" He questioned with a look of innocence.

"Don't start something you can't finish, now," I told him.

He just grinned cheekily at me in response, "Oh, I'm sure I can finish."

I raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism. I stood up and walked around the table to Damian's side. I held out my hand, waiting for him to give me his own.

Once he placed his hand in mine I gently pulled making him stand up. Then I turned around, dragging his hand behind me as I took us to our bedroom.

I closed the door behind us before gently pushing Damian to lie down on the bed.

Climbing over him, I straddled his stomach as his hands met my hips. I leaned down and began to kiss his neck, leaving my mark as he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Settling my full weight on his stomach I felt his body rise and fall beneath me with his rapid breaths. I continued to kiss his neck, slowly descending down his neck, leaving hickeys all the way.

Reaching the collar of his shirt I made my way back up his neck and kissed along his jaw.

Moving back a little bit to straddle his hips, I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and began to pull it up and over his head.

I slipped off my own shirt, my lacey black bra showing off my breasts.

Damian's eyes widened as he groaned.

Grinning, I slipped off of him and walked over to the bottom drawer of our dresser. We used this drawer for our toys. Picking the handcuffs out of it, I returned to Damian.

I slowly stripped off every last piece of clothing as he watched, playing with my breasts as I watched him watch me.

I was soaked through my panties.

Now fully naked, I situated myself back on Damian's lower stomach, grinding slightly to let him feel just how wet he made me.

He groaned again, tightening his grip on my waist.

I grabbed both hands and drew them up and over his head, joking them at the wrist as I clicked the handcuffs into place. We had a rope always tied between the bedposts for this exact occasion so I went ahead and fastened his handcuffed wrists to the headboard, keeping his arms above his head.

"God, Y/n, come on." Damian pleaded.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I suppose. But only because it's your birthday. However," I paused, letting the words thicken. "You'll have to beg first."

"Por favor, mami. Todo lo que tu digas," (Please, mommy. Anything you say,) he begged, still breathing heavily which only made his deep voice even more heavenly.

"Buen chico," (Good boy) I replied smiling.

I swung my left leg over his body so I was now next to him on the bed instead of on top. Carefully I pulled his pants and boxers down, him maneuvering his legs and hips to help me. His hard cock sprang free already leaking pre-cum.

I took his thick length in my hand, pumping it a few times before climbing back on top of Damian. "You ready, love?"

He nodded quickly, waiting for me to seat myself upon him.

With both knees on either side of Damian's hips, I grabbed his cock and lined it up with my entrance. Slowly, I spread my knees further apart as I sank down onto him until I reached the base.

I started bouncing on his dick making him moan with pleasure which only increased my pace. I put my hands on his muscular chest to steady myself as I fucked myself with him. I threw my head back in pleasure as Damian began to thrust up into me, meeting me pace for pace.

I scratched at Damian's chest as the familiar bundle of heat grew in my abdomen. Looking at Damian, I could tell that he was close too.

"Come on Damian, harder." I urged Damian, which resulted in him slamming his hips up into me over and over again as I met every push-up with another push-down increasing the pressure.

I massage my clit with one hand, continuing to use the other to steady myself.

Seeing just how close to the edge Damian was, I moved my steadying hand up further on his body to play with his nipples. He closed his eyes and moaned loudly at the feeling. "Y/n!" He screamed my name as he came inside of me.

Hearing his deep voice scream-moan my name was just enough to push me over the edge. I came all over his cock, our liquids mixing together inside of me and spilling out onto his stomach and around the bed.

Slowly sitting myself up off of Damian, his now soft cock bounced out of me, spilling even more liquid between us.

Quickly releasing Damian from his constraints I flopped onto his body, ready to sleep until his birthday dinner with the Judgment Day later tonight.

We both lay there, me on top of him with my head on his sweaty chest while his arms were wrapped around my waist. We were both breathing heavily, tired from our excessive workout.

"Happy birthday, mi amor. Te amo." (my love. I love you.) I breathed between gasps of air. I gave his chest a small kiss causing him to laugh before closing my eyes to take a quick nap before we had to get ready.

He kissed the top of my head in response, "Good night, mami."

Small Bonus Scene:

"Alright, I saved the best one for you to open last. Go ahead." I informed Damian as I handed him a neatly wrapped package.

He looked at me suspiciously before ripping the paper open. Shocked at what he saw he let out a boisterous laugh that echoed around the room.

"What is it?" Rhea asked him curiously, moving her head around to get a look at what Damian held in his hands.

Ripping off the rest of the wrapping paper, Damian turned the present around for everyone else to see what it was as he giggled to himself.

It was the action figure of himself I'd gotten.

Just seeing the toy was enough to send everyone else in the room into their own fit of giggles. A loud boom sounded as Dominik fell out of his chair he laughed so hard, which just made the rest of us laugh even harder.

"Thank you, babe. I love it. I'll make sure he's at every show with me from now on." Damian addressed me. He tried to be serious but immediately broke out in giggles again as he spoke.

Maybe forgetting his birthday wasn't so bad after all.

#damian priest x reader #damian priest #the judgement day #wwe #tjd x reader #wwe raw #the judgement day x reader #rhea ripley

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sanguinarysanguinity · 17 days ago

Text

Tagged by @verecunda, thank you!

10 things for 10 people you'd like to know better

Last song: Tom Lehrer's "Masochism Tango" has been stuck in my head these last twenty-four hours, because @mmhm-vids reblogged a couple of different vids set to it. (They do this every once in a while, reblog a number of vids all set to the same song. Whenever they do so, it is both an interesting study in vidding and a MASSIVE earworm.) ETA: I stopped to browse tumblr in the middle of writing this, and now it's B. Dylan Hollis playing "Goodnight Sweetheart (It's Time To Go)", and then The Platters singing the same.

Last book: Cod, by Mark Kurlasky, after @benjhawkins mentioned it. An interesting historical overview of the past thousand years or so of the North Atlantic cod fisheries, but with some weird oversights. (SURELY if cod were so rich off Massachusetts and Newfoundland, First Nations were and are part of the story? V. frustrating that they go almost entirely without mention. Also, despite the several chapters dedicated to the collapse of most North Atlantic cod fisheries, the success Norwegians had in recovering theirs is somehow only worth half a paragraph?) But outside of these weird oversights, it's been a fascinating read. There's also a ton of traditional cod recipes in here, from upper and lower latitudes on both sides of the Atlantic, and so that was fun, too. So much dot-connecting among various things I hadn't realized were linked.

Last movie: Dangerous Liaisons (1988), Valmont (1989), and Dangerous Liaisons (China, 2012) triple feature. The 1988 is closest to the original novel, but I enjoyed Valmont best. See my Dreamwidth for a longer review of the three.

Last TV show: Just finished What We Do in the Shadows S6, and halfway through Interview With the Vampire S2. This amuses me, because we're not that into vampires? (Although we do enjoy both shows!)

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy: Savoury and spicy, together or separate.

Relationship status: Gay married thirty-some years.

Last thing Googled: Mediterranean Sea sea-level and salinity.

Current obsession: All things maritime, always and forever.

Looking forward to: Sinking my teeth into the Langstroth on Bees revision. I just got great feedback from my beta; now I need time to implement it. Alas, I have another exchange fic to write first.

Last creative project worked on: Just posted my offering for the Holly-Poly exchange!

Tagging: A lot of people have done this lately, so rather than me trying to work out who hasn't done it yet, I cordially invite anyone who hasn't had a turn yet to consider yourself tagged!

#about me #tag game

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deepwithintheabyss · 17 days ago

Note

librarian/avid reader au with jaytim pretty please? <33

Nov 18 2023

another one of those "hey everything (besides the ending) is written but it's been rotting in my folder" and just needs an edit

Pairing: JayTimSteph Words: 2010 Ask Game

Tim groans when he catches sight of Stephanie entering the library. He watches as she looks around for a second before spotting him and making her way over, grinning like the maniac that she is, on the way.

He's sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have been whooping as well, drawing the attention of half the college just so she could embarrass him.

“So Boy-wonder” comes her greeting as she leans onto him heavily and starts to ruffle his hair. Years of exposure to her behavior keep him from ducking away, he still only barely refrains from rolling his eyes though.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? Just because I skipped one, one grade doesn’t mean I’m some genius.”

Steph pauses her attempt of making an even bigger mess of his hair, to punch him softly into the shoulder, “We both know that’s not true, you’re just too lazy to do all the work and skip some more.”

Tim tries to shrug her off; so he can go back to sorting through the books, but she clings determinedly to him.

“So where is he? Where’s Mr. My Nerd Levels made Tim Drake Geek Extraordinaire fall for me?”

This time Tim does roll his eyes, “Figures that you didn’t come to the library to study or do something more productive.” he mutters. Trying to will down the blush that has risen onto his cheeks at her words.

She squawks in mock-offense, barely keeping the noise below the required level, “Hey! I do study. Just because I don’t spend all my time crunching the stuff in the last few moments because I didn’t pay attention in class,” he ignores her side-eye easily “doesn’t mean I don’t study! You just never notice it because you’re too busy with all your geek stuff.”

He's halfway to thinking that the distraction worked when she narrowed her eyes and jabs him sharply into the chest with a finger, “Hey you don’t wiggle yourself out of this so easily. Now tell me where he is.”

“I haven’t seen him yet” he admits, “He usually arrives before my shift even starts.”

“Oh what a nerd”

“And I only catch him when the library is about to close in the next half an hour. He likes to read and study till we’re nearly done, but because he always checks out so many books he started to leave a bit earlier as to not hold us up.”

“Was that why you were so late that one time?” she questions.

Tim shifts, “Well no, we both had lost track of time and thus didn’t notice it was past closing time.”

Steph looks him with a knowing glint in her eyes, “You were too busy staring weren’t you?”

"You would stare too if you knew how he looked!” Tim tries to defend himself.

“Well then how does he look? You haven’t been telling me anything! Besides sighing dreamily during lunch time and date nights.”

And- well that's true isn’t it? Tim has been too distracted by his crush to spend time with his girlfriend. He's very lucky that Stephanie is as understanding as she is and didn’t— a soft hit to the head interrupts his thoughts.

“Stop the worrying and tell me how he looks! We can complain about how horrible you have been neglecting me after I made fun of you.” She demands.

This is why Tim loves Steph so much, she never pulls her punches and prefers to go into everything head first. Never avoiding the ugly truths of conflict. And while sometimes (like now) it can be very annoying, when she persists on something, clings to it with every fiber of her being, she usually always got what she wants in the end anyways, so it's best to just give up. It was scarily efficient.

Tim also cannot deny that it isn’t hot as fuck.

“Come on less simping more sharing” Steph reminds him.

“Uhm well, he’s taller than you not much I think? But at least a little, and he got some faint scars on his face, one on his forehead, made his hair go all white in that place and when he smiles—.”

Steph's face breaks out into a delighted grin. “Oh! I know him he’s in my class his name is uhm-" her brows scrunch up, "Jace Trott or something.”

“Jason Peter Todd” Tim corrects automatically.

“Oh my god” Stephanie looks at him in wide-eyed surprise, “You’re really head over heels if you remember his name.”

This time it's Tim’s turn to squawk “That’s not true!” He tries to deny futilely.

“You didn’t know my name until after I kissed you.”

“I just see his name on the card everytime he goes to check out books.”

“And we had been working on a partner project for around a year now. You called me Spoiler the entire time because I had a patch on my pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that wasn’t your name!” He throws his hands up.

“What kind of lunatic names their kid Spoiler??? My name was on the paper, the teacher called us both by name.”

Tim waves around one of the books he's holding, “Well you didn’t know my name either until like 4 months into our partnership.” he complains.

She jabs her elbow into his side, and he's forced to bend over. “Knowing someones name and nickname are two different things!”

“You called me short-stack the entire year.” He gasps out through the pain.

“Well you were short. How should I have known you’d shoot up like a beanpole?”

“Uhm, excuse me” Comes a voice from the side. Both Tim and Stephanie ignore it, too caught up in their squabbling.

“You’re as tall as me” he mutters, using his hand to show their size for emphasis, drawing a straight line across their heads.

Steph smirks, “Just because I’m tall doesn't mean you should be too. How am I supposed to stuff you into a locker now.”

She reaches out in an attempt to ruffle his hair again, or maybe shove Tim down, to show him how short he should be. He doesn't know because he ducks to the side and pulls her hoodie over her face. Trying to gain some distance between them during the time where she's struggling to uncover her eyes so she can't get her revenge (that easily at least).

“Hey!” someone snaps, and Steph and Tim freeze in their wrestling.

“Could I please have that book you’re holding?” the voice is much more polite this time. Tim feels his insides grow cold as he recognizes it.

He looks over slowly and yep—

That’s Jason Peter Todd in all his sweater and glass glory. Somehow giving of the vibe of every young english teacher ever. Tim's mouth opens and closes without any words leaving and his hand only tightens around the book.

Steph like always, comes to his rescue in a way that makes him wish she just left him to die “I don’t know hot stuff,” she purrs in her most fake flirty voice, leering blatantly as she gives him a once over.

Jason visibly flounders at that, clearly caught off guard by Steph's sudden switch from toddler to twenty year old hot lady. She jabs an elbow into his side again like she could hear what he was thinking. Leaving Tim to rub the area as he scowls at the side of her head.

“Maybe if we get your number out of it.” she blinks up innocently at Jason.

(Tim feels vindicated in guessing Jason would be just a little bit taller than her.)

Jason frowns “Look, I don’t know what jealousy game you’re trying to play here” Tim’s stomach drops, oh no Steph is going to ruin it. ”But I’m not going to give you my number so you can wave it in your boyfriends face over there. If you got some kind of relationship problem you should talk it out and not involve innocent bystanders.”

As Jason speaks he crosses his arms, but it just draws attention to the way his sweater is straining over his pecs and no, Tim does not have a tit kink thank you very much Steph. He knows Steph is thinking the same anyways by how she’s suddenly clutching his hand.

“Now can I get the book?”

Tim makes some kind of startled sound when Jason's eyes land on him, and oh he had already known that the guy had pretty eyes but usually Jason was looking at the books he was checking out and not at Tim. Seeing that intense focus suddenly on him makes Tim’s brain all blank “uhm” he tries, but he doesn’t really know anymore what Jason wants from him.

Steph snickers at his side and he holds back from hitting her because he’s a good boyfriend who doesn’t hit his girlfriend for laughing at him even when he could.

Jason blinks back “Are you serious?” he ask incredulous, “the book, that are you holding. Can I have that?” he says the last part very slow and forcefully, Tim kind of wants to bristle at him.

Instead he decides to be reasonable and hand it over, but before Jason can grab it Steph snaps it out of his hands.

“A book for a number” she repeats, “And we totally don’t have relationship problems.”

“You were squabbling like little kids”

“That’s how I show love!”

Jason's eyebrows draw up in disbelief and all Tim could do was wonder if he plucked them, no man should have that perfect eyebrows. “Why would you want my number anyways?” Jason asks.

Steph grins at him, flickering her eyes up and down, stopping pointedly to stare at his chest and thighs. It's fascinating to watch someone else be subjected to her predatory stare and be affected by it. Tim kinda (totally) wants to explore how far down that flush spreads. (If it darkened the skin of his pecs too)

“I’d say you’re quite a catch hot stuff.” Her leer this time is something copied straight out of a cheap porno, Tim would be impressed, if he didn't feel like the ground should open and swallow him whole.

It’s as if their many years together have totally destroyed all of Steph's abilities at flirting.

Though… considering how their relationship started, maybe she had always been as hopeless as him, and he just had never seen it. Too awstruck by her personality and confidence to realize that she was improvising and fumbling as much as him.

Jason's gaze flicker over to Tim again, eyeing him warily.

"And you?" he asks, "are you also on board with this?" he gestures weakly into Steph's direction.

"Oh he's more than on board." Steph answers for Tim, throwing her elbow over his shoulder and forcing him to bend over slightly. "In fact he's-"

This time it's his turn to elbow her sharply, though she seems to have been expecting it and dances out of the way with a laugh.

He rights himself, straightening his t-shirt unnecessary so he has something to do with his hands that isn't fluttering them around nervously.

"I-" he starts, trying to find the right words. Jason is watching him, waiting for an answer, Tim doesn't feel like he's imagining the hopeful look in Jason's eyes.

"Yes." he says finally.

Jason hums, flickering his gaze between them, and Tim is confident he's checking them both out.

Before he reaches for the pen and papers they keep at the checkout. He quickly scrawls something onto it, before sliding it back over and Tim can make out that it's a number. He quickly snatches it up and stuffs it into his own pocket so Steph doesn't get any ideas.

Steph crows in delight besides him, bouncing over to hand Jason his book.

He smirks at her, "I'll be expecting a message from you both after closing." he says, turning around and leaving in the direction of his table again.

#the abyss speaks #my asks #ask game #my writing #jaytimsteph #timsteph #waffleinator-inator

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littlespacereader · 1 year ago

Note

Peter b Parker babysitting little reader (masc) reader wets the bed but Peter is vary nice about it and comeforts reader

My first request for a masc reader!! And Peter B. Parker as a babysitter is so cute!! I love the idea!! I’m always up for a bit of a comfort fic and this is it! I really hope you enjoyed this one!

Picking Pajamas 🕷️🌙

Caregiver!Peter B. Parker & Masc Little!Reader (SFW)

Tags - bed wetting, hurt and comfort, Peter B. Parked is a sucker for any Little,

Nicknames - kiddo, kid, handsome, buddy

“Alright kid, off to bed. Come on,” The tv clicked off and Peter stood up, cracking his tired limbs in the process.

“Nooooooooooo,” Y/N whined, throwing his head back against the couch.

“Yeeeeeessssss. You see what time it is? It’s bed time. Now snap to it kiddo or no bedtime story.” Peter bargain.

“……two bedtime stories?” Y/N asked with his best pair of puppy dog eyes.

Peter sighed with a smirk on his face, “Fine you got me, two bedtime stories it is. But only if you go brush your teeth and get ready right now.”

Y/N happily nodded and jumped off the couch, speeding off to the bathroom.

Peter smirked and shook his head. “Kids going to be the death of me.” He joked.

~~~

After a moment Peter entered Y/N’s bedroom to see him changed into his pjs going through a pile of books. Only issue is, his pjs are backwards.

“Kiddo come here,” Peter asked with a chuckle. Once Y/N did Peter helped him change his pajamas properly. “There you go handsome. All better.” He added with a small kiss to his forehead.

“Now what have got for me?”

Y/N happily ran back over to his pile of book and grabbed two from the pile to read.

“Great choices!” Peter said looking over the selection, “Alright let’s get you settled first and then we can dig in.”

Peter helped Y/N into bed, making sure he had all his stuffies and was properly tucked in all nice and warm. Once settled, he began to read the first book.

After a while the first book was done. He could see Y/N’s eyes were starting to droop slowly. Maybe two books was the best idea. So with that he opened the second one and began to read.

He was about halfway when he noticed Y/N was finally asleep. But now he was invested in the story…so he finished the book…for good measure. Then he carefully and quietly made his way out of Y/N room.

~~~

Peter had fallen asleep on the couch to some mindless television. One leg on the back of the couch and his body twisted like crazy. He was a wreck when he slept. But he started to come out of his sleep when he felt a small tug on his arm.

“Pete?”

He started to blink awake, untwisting and stretching the tiredness away. He opened his eyes and was met with a teary set of eyes infront of him. Instantly the Caregiver inside of him sprang up in worry.

“Y/N! What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Y/N just bursted out crying. He couldn’t articulate what had happened or why he was upset. All he did was put his arms out for Peter. All he wanted was comfort.

And who was Peter to deny him that comfort. He went to bring him into a hug but Y/N stopped him.

“No! I’m…icky…” he said between cries.

Peter was confused but only for a moment before he spotted what the issue was. Y/N’s pajama bottom were wet. He had an accident.

“Awww, Y/N it’s okay. It’s just an accident. You’re not icky, I promise you that. Come here,” Peter said with his arms still open.

Y/N was hesitant, just for a second before he collapsed into his arms. Peter wrapped his arms around the Little, one arm holding onto his head, the other rubbing his back.

“It’s okay kid. I promise it’s all alright. It’s just an accident. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

After a moment of crying onto his shoulder, Y/N seemed to settle down. “There we go, you’re okay. Everything okay buddy. It’s just an accident.” He said as they broke apart.

“Not mad?” Y/N asked in a voice so small and vulnerable.

“No, never. Why would I be mad at an accident? You did nothing wrong. An accident is just that, an accident. There’s no need to be worried. You did nothing wrong and I am not angry.”

Peter wasn’t one for seriousness but in this moment Y/N felt every word he was saying. He knew it to be true.

“Now, let’s get you changed and back to bed.” Peter stood up and took Y/N’s hand in his.

“Actually you know what? I think I’m going to get changed tonight too.” Peter added.

That peaked Y/N’s interest. “Pete get changed too?”

“Yeah I think I will buddy. We’re get changed together. In fact I’m going to need your help choosing out some pajama for me.” Peter explained.

Y/N smiled for the first time since the accident.

“I pick! I pick!”

“Alright then. You go into my room and pick out the best pajama you can find for me and I’m going to go into your room and pick out the best pajamas for you. READY, SET, GO!!”

Was it the best idea to be winding up the Little this late at night? Probably not. But the look of excitement on Y/N’s face to get to pick out a pair of pajama for Peter made it worth it.

While Y/N was hard at work picking the very best pair of pajama, Peter went into Y/N’s room and stripped the bed of its wet sheet and blanket.

By the time Y/N retuned, the bed had been remade and Peter had a nice fresh pair of pajama waiting for him.

“Pete! Pete! Pajamas!”

Peter gasps in excitement as Y/N hands him the pajamas. “Y/N…these are the best pajamas I’ve ever been given! Thank you!!” Y/N smiled, beaming with happiness.

“First let’s get you changed, then I’ll get changed, and then it’s off to bed.”

First Peter helped Y/N out of the wet pjs. Then he helped clean and wipe him down before helping him into a fresh pair of pajamas. (He would normally give the Little a nice relaxing bath after an accident but with it being so late a quick wipe will do for now)

Then with the Little all set Peter got into his pajamas. “Wow!” He said again, “These are the best pajamas! I couldn’t have picked them better myself.”

Y/N was beaming from the praise. “Happy pajamas!” He jumped up!

“Yeah kiddo happy pajamas!” Peter smiled. “Alright, go to the potty real fast and then it’s off to bed.”

Y/N nodded and was off again. Once he returned he hoped into bed. But this time Peter decided to join him, being that it was late and totally not because Peter had a soft spot for the kid and wanted to make sure he was super comfortable.

So there the two slept. Peter sleeping on his back snoring away with one arm wrapped securely around Y/N who slept peacefully through the rest of the night. The accident long forgotten about.

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insertyourselfhere · 2 years ago

Text

Body Swap Part 2

A/N: Sorry this took so long just trying to find the direction I wanted the story to go in and I got an idea now!

Character Pairing: Gwen Stacy (Ghost Spider) x Reader

Description: It had been a few weeks now with you and Gwen swapping bodies every so often. Sometimes when you went to her world and did her Spider job there would be comparison videos about you, saying that there had to be 2 Spider’s running with the same sort of body, physique just 2 very different styles. When Gwen was in your body the humiliating videos of you sucking a lot had eventually stopped sort of, you knew it wasn’t Gwen’s fault your body is a bit more conditioned for your fighting style and not hers, she preferred to be light on her feet and was very agile, meanwhile you were the complete opposite and offered almost no flexibility at all which was a little different from most spiders. So she had a much harder time to adjust. She spent lots of time with your Aunt when she was in your body, meanwhile you wouldn’t mean to but sometimes you would go and watch sports with her dad and bro out a little. One day she left a passive aggressive note on her mirror for you and you got a bit mad.

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

“Can you stop broing out with my dad” It read in giant letters on her mirror, at this point because it had been so long you had begun a routine of when you knew you were going to swap bodies and live the lives of the other person. You grabbed the sticky note and ripped it off her mirror throwing it in her bin. You knew you had to but a part of you had missed this relationship with someone.

Don’t get it wrong you loved your Aunt from the bottom of your heart and you did have some friends you could bro out with but something about not having a male figure in your life to watch sport with or to talk about people you were interested in. Sometimes you missed that bond, but ONLY sometimes, most of the time you usually ran around with your Aunt doing can drives, cooking food for the homeless, cloth drives, anything you could to help our your community back home, but to you there was something familiar about walking in to see your dad sitting on the couch, a beer in his hand watching rugby.

You walked out of the room, hair and everything done for school and you rushed down to get the bus, Gwen’s dad already gone for the day. You got into the bus and headed to school, not paying attention to what you were doing your brain still on this strange phenomenon that you were experiencing. When you got to your first class you opened Gwen’s book and saw it littered with lots of notes and thoughts.

“What’s going on?”, “Why is this happening?”, “Did some witch hex us?” You kept going around the page until you saw a note that caught your eye.

“What are we going to do Y/N?” You couldn’t tell if this note was deliberate or if she was just thinking out loud but you decided to reply anyway knowing she would see it tomorrow when you swapped back. “I don’t know but when 2 spiders get together, I’m sure we could think of something” you wrote back with a small smile on your face.

“Gwen…Can you answer this question please” Your smile dropped and you looked up, the teacher very clearly looked annoyed with you. You gave her a look and answered the question confidently without missing a beat, she gave you an even more annoyed look. “That is correct, however I feel like you should still pay attention” she went back to her whiteboard and you went back to your book, still finding small thoughts and messages.

You managed to get halfway through the day after going to a couple more classes, one that really stood out for you though was music class, only because you were supposed to be the drummer in the school band and you absolutely could not play the drums to save your life, you even practiced on Gwen’s drum kit when you could and even watched tutorials back in your own body. You managed to avoid playing whenever you had class but the note stuck in your locker said otherwise. “Drum solo due today” You were literally shaking at the idea of going to music class, you thought about skipping but if Gwen put that in your locker it must really be important. You headed towards music class slowly catching up with the rest of your class mates, the teacher brought you all in and before you could even sit down she pulled you over.

“Now Gwen before you get comfortable your going first today” Of course you were, what luck it would be for you to get dragged up first. You went to sit down behind the drum kit and grabbed the drum sticks. They gave you a guitarist to play along with.

They started playing and you literally held your breath, you tried playing the drum kit along with the guitarist and it just wasn’t working out for you. You huffed and tried playing again to no avail, your frustration was showing and the teacher went to stop you. But once you actually focused and put your mind to it the muscle memory kicked in and you started playing, Gwen’s muscle memory of playing for so long took over your limbs and played the drums, beautifully you might add. You had an out of body experience, your mind separated from your body just for that moment. You smiled as you sat and watched her body just take over, she looked like she was in her element, like this was the person she was supposed to be. Soon the experience was coming to an end, you went back into her body and felt the ending of the piece come to the end. As the last beat of the drum hit all Gwen’s classmates stood up and gave her a standing ovation, you felt a little out of place since it wasn’t you that had done it but you gave a small smile and a wave.

The rest of your day was a little uneventful, school finished up and you had a couple of incidents as Spider-Gwen that you had managed to fix up and head on home. As you walked into the house you were greeted with her father laying on the couch drinking a beer and watching the rugby. You waved towards him and moved to Gwen’s room getting ready for the night, before you could he called out to you.

“Hey Gwen, you coming to watch?” You shook your head walking away into your room, feeling a bit guilty you closed the door and hid in Gwen’s room. You headed to her desk grabbing the journal you had bought for her ages ago so you could mark down what you had and she could keep tabs on what you did, you managed to always get a photo of the day too so she could see what you were doing and you stuck a picture of Gwen receiving her A+ for her award. You had another photo of her playing the drums during the class, you grabbed it looking at it remembering how amazing it was to see her play. Even though it literally wasn’t quite her it still made you smile, you were absolutely wrecked from the day so you managed to pass out while holding onto the photo.

You woke up the next day in your own room this time knowing you had swapped back, you stretched your body and heard something fall to the ground. To your bewilderment there was the picture of Gwen playing the drums on your bedroom floor, you scuffled down to grab it surprised to see this had some how made its way across the whatever this was.

“Y/N Are you awake?” You were too stunned to speak and you heard your Aunt knock on the door slowly before opening it, she spotted you splayed out on the floor holding onto this polaroid picture.

“Y/N are you okay?” You quickly sat up and crossed your legs. “Um, I don’t know how to explain this but I have a photo that I somehow teleported across with from Gwen’s body here right now” Your Aunt gave you a confused look and crouched down next to you as you held up the picture, your Aunt took it off you inspecting it.

“This is Gwen?” She asked a small smile went across her features “At least now I know what to picture when you guys swap, also she’s very pretty Y/N” Your face flushed turning red knowing very well how pretty she was. “Get out” You said gently pushing your aunt away from your space, she giggled and got up heading towards the kitchen.

“Breakfast is ready, and don’t forget to read your journal” You shook your head and got up, moving over to the journal on your night stand. You read its contents and was surprised nothing really happened over here, she had a rather uneventful day, mostly just helping our her Aunt with a couple of things around the house, going to football practice and taking down a petty thief as your spider. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed less and less scars and scratches on your body every time you came back. You didn’t realise how difficult your body was to handle but then again it was your body.

You walked out into the kitchen still holding onto the photo that you had somehow managed to bring over here, you walked up to the fridge and placed it on there. Your aunt gave you a confused look and you slightly blushed.

“So you know what to picture when we swap and she’s me” You said, grabbing your bowl of cereal and eating it quickly. She shot you a look and you smashed down the rest of your cereal and headed out to your school now.

“Whats up Y/N” Your best friend as always was waiting for you at the bus stop, you did your secret handshake and proceeded to board the bus as soon as it showed up. You were lost in thought stuck thinking about Gwen’s drum performance and started looking up tutorials again.

“I’m sorry Y/N but you literally have the rhythm of a 80 year old with a hip displacement” You shot him a look and knew he was right but you wanted to try.

“Look just because I went to Prom with Trixie last year and stepped on her feet 8 times does not prove that theory” Your B/F shot you a look and you rolled your eyes looking back out the window again. School came into sight as you prepared to leave the bus you felt a Spidey Tingle.

“What was that about?” You asked looking around, there was nothing alerting you it was just going off, no real direction, no real sense it would just tingle.

“Y/N You okay buddy?” Your B/F asked, you nodded still looking off in the distance but came back and kept walking with them.

“I’ve got PE first up what have you got?” They asked you groaned realising what day it was. “Today is literally my worst day I have Maths, Science, English. Why couldn’t Gwen be the one to take over my Thursdays” You said out loud. “Who’s Gwen, is she your girlfriend?” You blushed heavily looking back at your friend who had a smirk on their face.

“I don’t know a Gwen, that’s weird why would I say Gwen, that’s such a random name to think of…”Your rambling was not helping and your best friend was cackling. “Alright super star I get it, don’t tell me about this mysterious Gwen character then” They punched your shoulder gently and walked off to their class, you were so annoyed at yourself because you knew for a fact that your best friend was going to NAG you until you died about Gwen so Gwen will find out that you mentioned her casually. “Today could not get any….NO NOOOOO I will not finish that sentence cause its always followed by something horrible” You grabbed your text books and headed to your first classes, today you were keeping a low profile unable to get your mind of 2 things that’s already happened today, 1 you bought the photo back from Gwen’s world of her playing the drums which was weird in itself and 2 although it didn’t happen today you still couldn’t get your mind off that scene. Your Spidey sense started going off again for no reason, it was really bothering you, almost like a constant ringing in your ears distracting you from focusing on class, not like you were anyway. You looked out the window and saw the grey clouds rolling in, your teachers voice drowning out as they spoke and it just went quiet.

That ringing noise came back and you were slowly starting to lose your mind. ‘GET OUT OF MY HEAD’ You yelled in your brain hoping for the noise to go away.

‘Is that anyway to say hello to the stranger you’ve been sharing your body with for the last few weeks’

Your body froze, you stood up from your desk looking to see that familiar blonde hair you got used to seeing so often. When it didn’t happen you saw your students and teachers staring at you.

“Ah I’m so sorry I just have to pee….yeah is that okay if I pee?” Your teacher didn’t say anything and just nodded their head as you ran out into the hallway.

You ran towards the bathroom, slammed open the door and looked at yourself In the mirror.

‘This is insane, I am going insane, theres no way I heard Gwen’s voice in my head. Nope. You are crazy Y/N’

‘If I interrupt and say you aren’t does that make you more crazy’

You heard that voice again, you knew for a fact you did it was like she was in front of you. You looked in the mirror and saw no one else. Nothing in your eyes, no weird senses or anything it was just you.

‘This is crazy’

‘Yep’ She replied so casually and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Why is this happening to us’

‘Dunno but your loud thoughts are making it very hard to concentrate’ You could only imagine how loud your brain was, so you let out a deep breath and quietened everything down.

‘Much better, Anyway I don’t know why or how this is happening but um while I have you here I wanted to thank you, for the A+ you got in music yesterday’ You smiled at her, or like in your head? It doesn’t matter, you made your way back to class.

‘I didn’t do anything, believe it or not I have 0 musical talent so it was actually all you, well your body to be honest, I just sat back and watched’ You sat back down in your classroom looking back out the window again, the teacher once again beginning their explanation of Maths and you honestly too pre-occupied with what was happening in your head.

‘Well either way I am impressed so thank you’ She said you could hear a small smile playing on her lips.

‘Well thank you for not leaving my body all bruised and scratched this time! It was refreshing’ You said laughing to yourself out loud. A few more students turned to you and you looked away trying so hard not to bring any more attention to yourself.

‘It was a hard lesson to learn but we’re getting there’ she replied, The bell rang in your world and you got up, moving towards Science.

‘Oh look I was going to tell you when we swapped bodies back but I guess I can tell you now, I um managed to take a photo from your world and bring it with me’ Gwen hummed in her head which caused your head to reverberate a little.

‘Interesting, which photo did you take’

‘I wonder if I could show you?’ you asked trying to project the image in your head.

‘I don’t think this is how that works I think we can just hear each other’ she said smiling.

‘That’s fair, okay it was a picture of you playing the drums yesterday’

‘How did that happen?’ she asked, your face flushed a little.

‘I had finished up the journal I had written for you and legit passed out as soon as I was done, I didn’t realise I was still holding onto that photo’ You lied out of your teeth not wanting to tell her you admired how naturally she played the drums.

‘You know I can hear your thoughts right..’ She said and you had just been caught.

‘Okay well you caught me, so yes either way I fell asleep with it in my hand and woke up here and it was on my floor’

‘I wonder if it happens with anything else, I might try it out with something’ she said thinking out loud

‘Let me know how it goes! I wonder if this whole talking thing is a permanent thing or a today thing’

‘I guess we will find out’

The rest of your day went by very quickly now that you had someone to complain to without getting in trouble. She would also do the same thing, sometimes it would be silent for a few minutes or so but then you would take turns breaking the silence. You were intrigued by this new ability of yours wondering if maybe it was all in your head and not the actual Gwen but with these Spidey powers you have you highly doubted that. It seemed to be some otherworldly thing like maybe there was something you both needed to do. You weren’t sure but you would try your best to figure out what this was and how to fix it.

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