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teliphone · 4 months ago

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Neighbors Daughter

Summary: You’re a young adult, a first-time New York Best Seller book writer. This achievement makes you itch to write more, but no significant idea comes to mind. You believe it’s due to the lack of experience. Your hometown is too simple. So, you moved to a new small neighborhood in hopes that the new scenery would bring ideas against your writer's block. Your neighbor's strange family lifestyle piques your interest, especially their daughter. A little sick and twisted, you pick up your pen to start jotting ideas for your new book.

Warning(s): Smut, Stalking, Peeking Tom, Voyeurism, Fingering

Word Count: 4.9K

The box filled with your journals slips from your fingers and falls onto the concrete ground. You grunt and puff your hair away from your face. You ready yourself and bend down to pick up the box again. You didn’t realize how heavy a box can feel when filled with just notebooks. You follow the pathway and into the doors of your new house in a hurry. Once finally reaching the wooden floors, you drop the box down. You decide to sit on top of the box to take a breather. You’ve been moving heavy boxes into your new house for three hours now. Starting from picking the boxes from your old apartment, to making multiple car trips, til now, where you have finally dropped the last box.

You glance around your home entrance with a small smile on your lips. Multiple boxes lay around and you feel like it’s going to take a while to unload. You do not mind though, you feel like you’re going to love your new living area. You turn your head to look out the door. Your new neighborhood is small and uniform. Every yard has perfectly cut and bright green grass. Every car is polished. Every porch has chairs that feel “welcoming”. This neighbor is something straight out of the movies. It’s a little eerie, but you feel like this setting is the perfect atmosphere to start writing.

As you are observing outside, a bright red Jeep car drives by. It grabs your attention when you notice it turning into the house in front of you. Your new neighbor! You lean your body forward in an attempt to get a better look. You can hear the bass booming from the car. The car engine stops and the music starts to lower. The side door swings open and a young woman steps out. She has a white dress on. Her silky black hair is in a perfect long braid. She looks elegant and innocent. She turns her body back to the car and bends in to grab something. The bottom of her dress lifts a little, exposing her white thighs. You feel a wave of envy as you stare at your new neighbor's perfect-tone body. She straightens up and swings her purse across her shoulders. She reaches to touch the top car door and swings it close. As it shuts, she peers below her hair bangs, and makes eye contact with you. She seems a little shocked. She didn’t realize how soon the house across from her got moved in. You give her a wave, to show a friendly neighbor attitude. She gives back a timid wave and hurries into her house. Your eyebrows furrow at the response. Her behavior was odd. You turn your attention back to the boxes lying all around your floor. You suck in a deep breath and prepared yourself to get to work.

You have finally settled in. Everything you brought is in their designated location. It’s currently 10 am the next day. You take a seat at the kitchen table where your personal writing laptop is. You bring a water glass cup up to your lips. After a few full gulps, you sit the cup down. You turn your attention to the laptop screen. An empty Word document showing clear evidence of writer's block. Your fingers pause on the keyboard. You sigh and turn your head to stare out at the window to examine your neighbor's house. The girls' red car was still parked in front. You haven’t seen the girl's parents yet. Curiosity begins to stir. You want to make new friends, but especially the family in front of you. How many people live there? What do their house decorations look like? Do the parents actually love each other?

Your fingers click on a search bar. You type “what to bring to your new neighbor as a friendly gesture”. After a few scrolls, you figure out what to do.

You make sure you look good. Practicing how to smile and what to say. A perfectly baked pie lays on top of your hand. This should be the way to make friends. You leave through your front door, not bothering to lock it. Nervousness pumps in your veins as you walk across the street. You quickly glance at the red car. The inside of the car is too clean, almost as if this is a brand-new car. You look away. Your hands curl into a fist and give the door a good few knocks. You wait, feeling anxious with each second that passes. The door doesn’t open after a minute and embarrassment creeps up your neck.

“No, there should be people at home,” you think to yourself. You give the door another knock, but this time more firm. Suddenly the door swings open revealing a man about forty to fifty years old. His hair and beard are perfectly groomed. He has on a simple white tee and blue jeans revealing a muscular body underneath. He towers over you due to his height.

“Hello?” He says unsure. His voice is deep and dry. You quickly blink yourself into action as you lick your lips. With two hands under the pie, you gently push it forward. He stares at it, not moving yet.

“Hello, I’m Y/n. I just moved into the house across your street and I was hoping-“

“Who is it, honey?” A mature woman with red lipstick appears next to the man. She brings her hands up to rest on his chest. You peek at the ring on her finger. She seems to be around her late thirties. Her visuals make you choke up. She is alluring and sensual. She is wearing a red blouse and black pants. Her hair is perfectly curled. She stares at you between her long lashes. She gives you a friendly smile, but you can feel a slight facade.

“This is our new neighbor that moved into the house in front of us,” The husband explains. Her eyes widen in surprise. She smiles widely, showing off her perfectly straight teeth.

“Oh my! I was wondering who got the privilege to move in!” She beams.

‘Privilege? That’s an odd way to say it,’ you think.

“Did you move in with a husband? Boyfriend?” She questions. A blush appears on your cheeks. You are single.

“No. I live alone,” You answer. You understand why she asked that. The house you moved in is big enough for a small family and yet you live alone. Silence coats the air. They stare at you with a small smile expression. You can tell they are wondering how you could individually afford it. You didn’t feel the need to reveal more information to them.

“I am here to introduce myself. I’m hoping to become friends with my new neighbors. I brought you guys homemade pie,” You beam. It is not homemade pie, you bought it several minutes ago at a nearby bakery store. You wanted to play it safe. The wife stares at the pitiful pie that is still in your hands.

“Thank you! That’s so thoughtful of you…. What flavor is it?” She asks not budging a muscle. You feel dumbfounded. What flavor? Normally, friendly people would just accept it with no question. She catches my silence and straightens her back.

“My apologies. I’m just asking because my daughter is allergic to certain fruits,” She explains with a smile. You feel lies lanced in her statement. But maybe she is being truthful.

“Apple pie,” You confirm, doubt creeping in. You researched what is the most popular pie and apple pie was the answer. This can’t fail, right?

“Sorry, our family does not like-“

“I like apple pies,” a soft voice cuts in. Her. The daughter. She’s even more pretty up close. She appears out of nowhere catching you off guard. Your eyes flicker over her features. Her eyes are so soft and calm as they stare back at you. Her plump lips are glossy pink. She’s in blue shorts and a tight black tee. She’s more tall than you expected from seeing her far away. You can finally see all the family members standing next to each other. They are all so beautiful and handsome. The perfect textbook family. You feel so little and unfortunate next to them.

“Hi, I’m Wonyoung,” She smiles. Before you can say anything back, she brings her hands out to grab the poor apple pie. Her fingertips gently brush against yours. She lifts the apple pie up to her nose and sniffs it. She lets out a soft hum of approval. You feel yourself gaining confidence again. Your lips curl up into a small smile.

“We are sorry to inform you, but we have plans and we must be on our way. It was nice meeting you…” The husband pauses. He looks at you with an expression of confusion. He already forgot your name.

“Y/n,” You remind. You glance at Wonyoung who gives you an apologetic look.

“Ah yes. Thank you for the pie, Y/n. The Jang family welcomes you to the neighborhood,” The husband finishes.

“Thank you! I hope to meet you all again at a good time,” You turn to leave their porch ground. You hear the door shut behind you and you let out a sigh. You feel like this interaction wasn’t the best. But your heart feels warm that Wonyoung accepted the pie. You smile and cross the street back to your house.

From behind the doors of the Jang family, Mrs. Jang takes the pie from Wonyoung’s hand.

“Why would you accept this pie? You know our house does not eat these types of sweets,” She grimaces in disgust. She examines the pie as if it were a bug.

“I was just being nice. She baked it just for us. The least we can do is accept it,” Wonyoung explains, shrugging her shoulders. She watches her mom dump the pie into the trash can. She dislikes how strict her mother is when it comes to food. She rolls her eyes and plops herself on the couch. She pulls out her phone to go through her social media. Mrs. Jang and Mr. Jang prepare to leave.

“We are going to be gone for a while. Don’t stay out too late. Don’t do anything stupid,” Mrs. Jang warns as she puts on her jacket. Wonyoung hums, not looking up from her phone screen. She hears the door click behind her and the house is silent again. Her eyes linger towards the trashcan where the pie lays. She starts thinking about you. She remembers the way your face expressed pure joy as she accepted the pie. A smile appears on her lips.

“Poor girl. She doesn’t know how toxic my family is,” She whispers to herself. She returns her attention to her phone. She sends out a message to her friends to see if anyone is free for lunch.

Several days go by and you are sitting by the opened window with your journal in your lap. This summer has reached one of its highest heat. You can feel your face starting to sweat, but luckily there is a light breeze that comes by a few times. You stare at the house in front of you again. It has become a routine. You mentally take note of what time each family member leaves and comes back. Mrs. Jang leaves early in the morning and comes back in late afternoon. Mr. Jang leaves around the same time as Mrs. Jang but arrives late at night. For Wonyoung, her routine is interesting. There is not a constant pattern. She leaves whenever and comes home whenever she wants. You start to wonder what she does during her day-to-day life. It seems like she has no job and would rather spend time with her friends.

A sudden movement from the house catches your attention. A window that usually has its curtains closed is suddenly opened. You narrow your eyes to make out the figure behind the window. It's a slim figure wearing a white cropped top, trying to yank the window open. You realize you’re staring into Wonyoungs’ window. The heat must have finally gotten to her which is why she is opening the window. She successfully opens it and returns to her vanity. She puts her hands into her hair and runs it into a high ponytail. You can’t believe how easy it is to look into her room. It’s not your fault… her window is just so big. You watch her put on white headphones and turn on her computer. You examine how straight her posture is and how she slightly fans herself with her hands. You start to wish you could hear her. Is she complaining about the heat? What song does she like to hear? What mood is she in? She slides her hand down her neck. You click your pen and start writing ideas. Ideas where the main character is looking a lot like Wonyoung. The main character in your next book. You struggle to figure out if you should make the character sweet or bratty. This won’t work. You need to know her more.

You walk past the Jang family house and see Mrs. Jang struggling to bring all her groceries in. Of course, you are quick to offer help. One reason: you are being nice and friendly. Two: you will be able to enter their house and look at their layout… but they don’t need to know the second reason.

“Would you like some help?” You call out, approaching her from behind. She gets taken by surprise and nearly drops the bag, but you are quick to reach the bottom of the bag. You look up to see how close her face is to yours.

“It’s okay dear. I can handle this,” She laughs it off. You shake your head, refusing to take a no.

“I know you are more than capable enough to do this alone, but please allow me to help,” You give her a sweet smile. She stares at you in shock at how nice you are. Her guard visibility lowers and she lets out a gentle sigh.

“Okay… Thank you Y/n. Just these two bags,” She instructs. You feel pride soar in your heart from hearing her say your name. She remembers! You lift the two bags and secretly gasp at how heavy they are. You peek into the bag to see all the fresh produce. Very healthy food choices.

“I see you're making dinner tonight,” You decide to start a small conversation as you walk behind her. She laughs again and pushes the front door open. You didn’t hear her response. You were too busy analyzing the interior. Everything is white, polished, sparkly, and clean. There are a few family pictures hung up. You look at the frames closer and note how the father is always in the middle, the wife is to the right and Wonyoung is to the left. You look around more to conclude the lack of comfort or character. Everything is too perfect and… bland?

“You can place the bags on this table here,” Mrs. Jang says. You place the bags onto the white marble table and look out to their backyard. There is a swimming pool which causes you to widen your eyes. There is no swimming pool in yours. They must have installed that after moving in. As you stare at the water you notice a figure floating. You gulp. Wonyoung is floating on a tube with her eyes shut in relaxation. She is wearing a white two-piece which reveals her milky-tone body. Her hair is wet and it sticks against her skin. She has a pleasing smile on her lips.

“I see you noticed our pool,” Mrs. Jang brings you back. You snap your neck to her with an innocent smile. You hope she didn’t notice you eyeing her daughter.

“Y-yes I did. It’s amazing… I wish my house had one,” You slightly giggle. She hums and walks to the backyard door to slide it open.

“Come here and check it out. I love to brag about this pool to my guests. Oh and my daughter is currently in there, but that's okay. We’re all women here,” She chuckles. She walks out and you follow behind.

“This pool took about…” Mrs. Jang continues talking but you were busy analyzing Wonyoung. She opens her right eye to peek at who ruined her peace. She was about to complain to her mom til she made eye contact with you. She rolls off the tube and into the cool water. She swims up and lifts her head above the water. Her wet black hair is perfectly silked behind her back. She walks to the edge of the pool and rests her arms there. She stares deep into your eyes between her long lashes.

“Mom…” She complains, “You didn’t warn me that we had a guest,”

“It’s fine. Y/n is here to look at the beautiful pool I installed,” Mrs. Jang explains. You nod your head to seem nonchalant.

“Sure…” Wonyoung hums with a tint of teasing. She rests her chin on her arms, not looking away from you. You become nervous, nearly tripping over a chair. She softly laughs while biting her bottom plump lip.

“Oh shoot! I left my iced coffee in the car. It’s probably melting so fast in this heat. I will be right back!” Mrs. Jang gasps and rushes out. This leaves you awkwardly standing still with Wonyoung staring. She pushes herself by the edge to go deeper into the pool. She picks up a beach ball and gently plays with it. She bumps it back and forth between her hands.

“So… you’re Y/n right?” She starts. You try not to smile but fail. For obvious reasons, hearing her remember your name is much better than hearing it from Mrs. Jang. With confidence, you walked over to sit at the edge of the pool. Wonyoung finds you more interesting and drops the beach ball. She walks against the water til she is underneath your gaze.

“Yes…You’re Wonyoung right?” You lie as if you don’t remember. She cutely tilts her head to the side. She playfully narrows her eyes at you. She lifts her finger and pokes your leg. Such a small touch, but it makes you blush.

“Yes. Jang Wonyoung. Drill that into your head,” She pouts. You couldn’t help but giggle at her cuteness.

“How do you like the new neighborhood so far… enjoying the view?” She asks with a low voice. There’s a slight glint in her eyes. You furrow your eyebrows. You didn’t quite understand the deeper meaning of her tone. Suddenly Mrs. Jang returns, stopping the conversation. You turn your attention to her and Wonyoung secretly rolls her eyes. Her mom ruined the fun. She goes back to playing with the beach ball.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” Mrs. Jang apologizes.

“No, it’s okay,” You smile. From the side of you, you can hear Wonyoung getting out of the pool and it took every muscle in you not to look. Mrs. Jang looks at her watch and lets out a gasp.

“Goodness! It’s getting a bit late. I need to start preparing for dinner,” She hints for you to leave.

“I understand. Thank you so much for allowing me to see your beautiful pool,” You thank, taking a step forward to the screen doors.

“I think we should invite Y/n for dinner,” Wonyoung beams. You turn your head to look at her. Your eyes secretly look to see her body wrapped in a white towel while you wave your hands timidly.

“No, that's okay. I really don’t want to bother your guy's family time,” You reject. She frowns and glares at you. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She looks at her mom with a desperate plea. She picks up the cue.

“I agree with my daughter. You helped me earlier and as a thank you, I would love to invite you for dinner,” Mrs. Jang convinces you. You think about how this would be the perfect opportunity to make friends and study them.

“In that case… I would love to take your offer,” You admit. Wonyoung smiles brightly as she plays with the heel of her foot. Mrs. Jang states at her wristwatch again.

“I believe dinner will be ready in about an hour. You should head home and come back after an hour-“

“I can text you to come when dinner is ready” Wonyoung chirps in. She brings out her hand in front of you. Her eyes curve into a crescent moon. You stare at her hand like a fool. Your mind races. Is she asking for your phone number?

“…Your phone?” She hints. Bingo. You quickly reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Once you unlock the phone, you hand it over to her. You watch her quickly type down her number and shoot herself a text. Her thumb is moving fast. She lifts her head and gives you another charming smile.

“There. Look forward to my text,” She bubbles as she hands your phone back. You stare at your screen. She placed her contact name as normal. Jang Wonyoung. But the message she sent made your cheek turn red.

Neighbors Daughter

You love the sound of it. You definitely will be adding this to the book you’re currently writing.

The text Wonyoung sent wasn’t crazy. A simple “Dinners ready. You can come now” was all she sent. So here you are, sitting at the dinner table with the Jang family. You try to be polite and have manners as much as possible. You sit in front of Mrs. Jang while she sits next to her husband. Wonyoung sits to your left. It sucks how you can’t really see what she’s doing. From your peripheral vision, you can see her slightly poking her food with the fork. Mrs. Jang takes a sip of her wine and gently places it back down.

“You are quite young. How did you manage to get a house on your own? What’s your job?” She starts the conversation. It is clear that she is very interested to know you. You swallow the food in your mouth and take a sip of water.

“I am a writer,” You reveal. The parents stare at you and Wonyoung stops poking her food. Mr. Jang places his fork down. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry if I sound harsh but I didn’t think writers make enough money to get a house in this neighborhood,” He chimes in. You let out a soft laugh. You get that a lot and honestly, you are surprised too.

“I am not offended. I started by writing a lot for many popular websites, almost like a journalist. Later I decided to start writing books. I’ve released a couple so far…” You start to linger off. You didn’t want to brag about the successes you received from the books. The sales from the books are the reason you were able to afford the house. This stirs Wonyoung interest.

“How do you find a subject to write about?” She questions. You turn your head slightly to look at her and she copies. Her bangs look really cute.

“I find things that interest me,” You answer honestly. The corner of her lips turns up as she slowly nods her head.

“If you ever need help with finding something to write about… I want to help. I have many ideas,” She says. She slowly blinks while you stare at her. Her characteristic is just so hypnotizing. How can you write her into words? You fear your main character can’t capture the real charms of Wonyoung.

“Thank you. I would love the help,” You agree. She is the first to break eye contact and returns to playing with her food.

“You must be successful,” Mrs. Jang adds. She takes another sip of her wine. You awkwardly laugh, not agreeing or disagreeing. The rest of the dinner continues as normal. You take note of each person's characteristics. Mr. Jang rarely talks and keeps to himself. He tends to stare. Mrs. Jang loves to talk about anything and took up most of the conversation. She’s expressive with her facial. Wonyoung adds to the conversation when she wants to. She’s very gentle with how she eats and speaks. She likes to take small bites. Whenever you said something she found funny, she would cover her mouth while laughing. It fills you with so much joy that she finds you hilarious.

Dinner ends and you can’t stop thanking Mrs. Jang for the meal. It was nice to have a home meal from someone else other than yourself. It has been a while. Mrs. Jang tells you how nice it was to have you as company and orders Wonyoung to walk you to the door. Wonyoung leans against the door frame with her arms crossed against her chest. Her perfectly curled hair rests on her right shoulder. You shyly give her a goodbye wave.

“Good night Y/n,” She hums.

That night you couldn’t sleep. You roll over to your phone and tap the screen. It’s 1:45 am. You sigh and sit up from your bed. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t sleep. You decide to get up and get a cup of water. As you stand up, you get distracted by a light coming from the Jang family’s house. It’s Wonyoungs’ room. Her curtains are pushed to the side revealing her whole room again. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What is she doing this late at night?” You think to yourself.

You walk closer to your window to stalk her. There’s no way she could see you. Your room is dark. Wonyoung lifts her shirt above her head and your heart stops. Her long hair drops past her shoulders as she lowers herself to take off her shorts. This is wrong. You shouldn’t watch, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her.

She observes her body in the mirror. She turns her body around, slowly sliding her hands across her smooth skin. Her rear is facing the mirror. She turns her head to watch. She sticks her butt out as she bends over. Her finger hooks on the hem of her panties and she tugs it down. Her eyes are heavy and she bites her bottom lip. Your breathing becomes shaky. You take a seat by the window and open your journal. You start jotting down notes. Wonyoung smiles cheekily at herself and turns around to face the mirror. You study how she lets out a laugh as she unclasps her bra. She pulls her bra off and tosses it to the side. She cups her boobs and squeezes it. Her thumb rubs against her nipples as she plays with her chest. Her head tilts back slightly and her mouth opens revealing a moan. She stares at herself a little more before she has had enough of teasing herself. She walks to her bed and lays down. You watch as she runs her fingers across her lower stomach. She lifts her legs and spreads them apart. You feel your body starting to heat up. One of her hands grazes her neck while her other hand starts playing with her cunt. Her middle finger rubs her clit which causes her to gasp.

You squeeze your thighs together and grip your pen. You are getting turned on by just watching her. She swirls her clit for a couple of minutes before she inserts a finger into her wet cunt. It causes her to arch her back. She feels the silky wet substance coat her digits. You suck in a deep shaky breath. You can feel your cunt pulsing and clenching painfully.

She increases her speed and a few cute moans spill out. She had to cover her mouth with the back of her free hand so that her parents couldn’t hear her. Her hair starts to stick against her forehead. She pants hard, her chest going up and down. Her cunt chases after her own two fingers. She tilts her head back as she forces her fingers to go deeper. She then curls her finger to hit her gummy walls. Her legs shake as she feels herself getting close. Your handwriting against your journal starts to get more sloppy. She lets out a soft cuss and a dirty laugh. She feels too good. She goes a little faster and harsher with her fingers. After a few more deep thrusts she reaches her high. Her mouth gapes open and she lets out an embarrassing squeal. She immediately shuts her mouth with her free hand as she twitches against the other. You nearly came in your pants when watching her orgasm. You shift uncomfortably against your seat. You blush from feeling the wetness in your cunt.

Wonyoung gets out of her high and takes her fingers out. She lifts it into the air and examines how her juice coats her two fingers. She chuckles and rolls off the bed. She disappears and you assume she went to the bathroom to clean herself.

You lower your head into your head. You feel so dirty and guilty. You toss your journal aside and return to your bed. Shoving your face against your pillow, you silently replay the scene again. Suddenly your phone buzzes. You lift your head and expand your hand to search for your phone. Once you feel the cold surface you bring it to your face. It was a text message from Jang Wonyoung.

“I hope that gave you more ideas to write”

584 notes · View notes

pick-me-up-im-scared · 6 months ago

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Call Me When You Need Me (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Fluff)

Short Summary: When your best friend Ellie has problem sleeping you come over to help her. Like you always do!

Author´s Note: Another random idea I got that I thought would be waaay shorter. It´s not that long, but it's longER than I planned to. Istg, the universe wants me to write +5k fanfics. Everythime I come up with an idea for a blur (cause they're way quicker to write) I end up adding so much to it you can't even call it that. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy just a super cute little story! (I'm the person who tries to fill the "ellie x reader"-tag with stuff that isn't smut. Like I didn't just post two smuts right after each other a week ago.................)

Also! Ellie lives in the same house as Joel in this. Even though I'm well aware she has her own "hut" in the game

Words: 1473

(Pictures aren´t mine! I found them on Pinterest)

The empty streets felt oddly peaceful as you wandered down the oh, so familiar road. Only the streetlights lighting up your path as your sleepy feet stumbled on the sidewalk. It wasn’t unusual to find you walking down these streets at 3 am. You found yourself in this situation a little too often. Not that you complain! When your best friend needs you, she needs you. The crispy night air forced you to cross your arms in order to keep some warmth. Despite being near fall you decided to skip out on a jacket and just go with your outwashed hoodie. Big mistake. But it’s not that bad. Though you’d lie if you´d say you didn’t miss your warm, cozy bed. Just the thought was enough to put a drowsy smile on your face. You continued to kick rocks you stumbled upon on the sidewalk as you, trying to not hit any of the parked cars beside you, cause you know.......karma. Soon you noticed the familiar fence you helped painting white one summer. By the looks of it, it could use a little touch-up. Getting onto the lawn you quickly made your way to the back. The house was completely pitch black apart from one single window on the right corner.

You walked over to the corner of the porch, making sure to sneak a few glances through the dark windows, just to make sure Joel wasn’t up to grab a glass of water or something. But you’re just met with your own reflection in the surprisingly clean windows. You jumped up on the fence that tastefully decorated the porch to reach the edge of the roof. You took a sturdy grip around the aged wood before pushing yourself up the brick plated surface. This was nothing new to you. It was more of a routine. Getting called over to your friends house at least five times a week you kinda start to come up with a few tricks to make your arrival more smooth. Why are you climbing the house like you're a fucking monkey? you may as. The first time Ellie called me over you both thought Joel would be pissed if he knew. So you came up with the brilliant idea, with your life at risk, to climb up from the back. Yes, Ellie tired to prevent you from doing it, but you're too stubborn. She knows that damn well. And yes, you're pretty sure you've got a six-pack from all the times you've pushed your whole body onto the porch roof. But by the morning neither of you considered Joel's daily visit. So when he came to tell Ellie it's breakfast he was sure surprised to see you laying there, holding her. But he wasn't mad.....not at all. And when it was time for you to leave he made sure to throw out "You can take the door next time!". Despite that you continued to take your not-so-convenient way into Ellie's room. You saw it more as a fun thing, and you like to believe Ellie enjoys to too. Even thought she mumbled a "You're so dumb" before giving you a welcome hug.

You carfully got up from your crunched up position, being careful not to strainght out your back too much or you'll probably fall down and break your neck. At this height you could outline more details in the only lit up room, as if you didn’t know it by memory. You noticed the small crack Ellie always made sure to leave every night incase she got the urge that’s currently the reason you’re here. She didn’t want to have to get up and open it when you got there. Also, she’s been very clear that you can come over whenever you feel like it. Day as night. You used your finger to loop around the thick glass and push it up enough to give you the opportunity to get a better grip. You slid the glass into the slit, just enough to squeeze yourself through. The noice made Ellie quickly turn her head from her position on her bed. Just the look of you made her smile. "You came!" she happily exclaimed. You giggled "Of course! You said you had problem sleeping”.

Your beaten up sneakers barely got to touch the floor before Ellie threw herself at you, slamming you into the nearby wall. She continued to hug you, tighten up her grip. You chuckled, "Hey, hey! You shouldn't try to mush me like ground beef. Who´s gonna keep you company then?". Ellie let go off you and took a step back, giving you the chance to get away from the wall. "I'm sure you can take it" she snarky remarked "Weren't you the one who's got a six-pack" she sarcastically asked while slapping her hand against your clothed stomach. "Ow!" you screaked while backing way from her hand. Ellie just chucked before making her way back to her bed, signaling you to take place beside her. You let the strap of your backpack slide down your arms before leaving it by the end of Ellie's bed, to then quickly kick off your lazy tied shoes before crawling up the comfy bed.

You let out a deep sigh as your back hit the mattress, "I´ve told you to just call me whenever you need me". "I know" Ellie mumbled before looking to the side, "But you deserve to sleep too". "I never sleep as good as I do in your bed" you reassured her as. She smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. She's tried to fall asleep by herself when she has one of these...nights, but it's impossible! There's been times where she hasn't called you even thought she should have. Just cause she feels bad for forcing you out of bed. She never told you this or you'd kill her. She's lost count of all the times you've told her to just call you when she feels down or can't sleep.

You place your hands behind your head, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Ellie swore she'd get rid off, but hasn't "had the time to". But you swore she was lying. She's always been such a bad liar. But you think it's adorable, so you don´t mind. "I swear I'm getting us a house someday. That way you wouldn't have to call me whenever you have problem sleeping", Ellie smirked at you. "Yeah?" she asked while shooting herself closer to your laying from. "Yep! Then you could just come over to my room" you frowned a little "Or we might share the same bedroom...". You shrug "Or I mean, we're sleeping in the same bed now, so we could save a lot of money if we just get one". Ellie smiled at the thought but soon her face fell a little "How would that work when you bring a girl over?". You shot your head to give her a confused face "What the fuck, Ellie?" you grabbed a pillow from behind you to hit her playfully "I don´t even bring that many girls over!". "Suuure" Ellie playfully rolled her eyes while wearing that shit-eating grin.

You huffed before pushing her back against the bed so you could straddle her. Ellie had to stop herself from blushing at the sudden contact, but she's pretty sure you'd still notice if you weren't busy continuing hitting her with the pillow. You giggle "You play me out to be some type of slut!". She just shrugged "Maybe you are". You huffed once more, louder this time, before getting off Ellie's lap with a defeated look. "Fuck you, Ellie" you mumbled before throwing the pillow at her. She just laughs as she catches it and put it back to its original place. "Should we get to bed now? You know, the reason I'm here?". "Oh!" Ellie quickly adjusted herself "Yeah, that'd be nice". You grabbed the cover that was messily tossed to the side and placed it over you to. "You want me to read you a bed time story?". Ellie laughed "Fuck you, (y/n)". You smirked as you reached over her to turn off the lamp on her beside table. The feeling of your body being pressed against her made it hard for Ellie to focus, but thank god you soon got back to your previous position behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her frame before pulling her into your embrace. Transferring your warmth onto her. “You don’t have to come here every time, you know?” Ellie clarified. “No, I know” you answered “But I want to” you added before burring your face in the nape of her neck, automatically squeeze her torso a little tighter. Ellie couldn’t help but release a relaxed sigh, finally at peace.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou #tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us part two #ellie x reader fluff

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freakassfemme · 5 months ago

Note

can you pls do being fwbs with abby but it's a secret and you're struggling to keep quiet 🥺

SORRY I WENT CRAZY WITH THIS SUPER ANGSTY AND SAPPY AGHHHHHH. please I could treat her so much better than Owen, she deserves everything ***not proof read, sorry*** wc: 2.6k warnings: !Owen!, f/f, fingering, smut, dubcon if u squint rly hard, cheating, comphet, abby deserves better:(, abby does no wrongs, etc.,

good luck, babe! [smut/angst] *°:⋆ₓₒ

playlist: i wanna be your girlfriend / lacy / good luck babe

"No, 's cute," Abby had said, running her finger over the felt material. "I wish someone loved me enough to make me one."

You had watched her curiously, your head tilted. She was sat on your living room couch in your apartment, cradling the stocking of your soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend with such tender and care, you had to keep your thoughts in check, remind yourself of the situation and who you were with as your instincts tried to spill over and into her arms.

"You and Owen totally could, its not hard," you said, already planning a list of materials you could loan or give to her, knowing she would have no idea, but she was already letting out a soft laugh and shaking her head.

"No, it's okay," she said, so obviously trying to keep a cheerful tone that the thickness of her tone weighed on your heart. "It's not really his thing."

You let out a small sigh, walking back over with both of your cups of hot chocolate. It was like clockwork, the way you curled up next to your longtime best friend, resting your head on her shoulder and handing her the cup.

"He's stupid," you said, like you always did when Owen acted like he was too good to even be a decent boyfriend.

Abby took the cup gratefully, sipping on it and humming. She let the taste linger on her tongue, the staleness in her mouth disappearing with the refreshing mint and chamomile of the imported tea she had bought you for your last birthday.

"I know," she said simply, frowning and leaning her head back on to yours. ''I'll get over it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"I know."

Abby may have gotten over it, but you didn't.

As the days ticked closer to Christmas, you found yourself lingering on the idea. And when your own stupid, good-for-nothing girlfriend dumped you on your porch one snowy night, you found yourself looking for distractions. After tossing out your ex's stocking, you bundled yourself up in your coat and marched yourself down to the craft store.

It was easy to pick out the decorations for Abby's stocking -- a gold velvet stocking, and you had carefully written her name on it in a cursive red-glitter glue, adding a couple snowflakes after the y. You hung a few golden bells and silver coins from the corner, curling some metallic ribbons to add a special flare to the hook.

You were already making your way over to Abby's apartment the following day when it had finally dried, as you had been for the past few weeks, just because Abby wanted to keep checking in on you after work to make sure you were okay, help pack up some of the other girl's things or give you a shoulder to cry on if you needed it.

The fresh stocking was carefully packed into a glittery gift bag that you knew Abby would sigh at, probably complain about there being sparkles in her house for the next decade. The thought made you smile, and you knocked on her door with a gentle tap and familiar pattern that had her leaping up from her kitchen barstool, dinner for one abandoned and rushing towards the door.

"Hi," she said, smiling sweetly as she always did, though she had to speak around her food as she opened the door. Her hand covered her mouth, and she gave you an apologetic look when you jokingly grimaced,

"Hi," you chirped back, fluttering inside and letting her help you out of your coat. "I brought you something."

Abby swallowed her food quickly, smacking her chest to suppress a cough as it went down the wrong side. You only rolled your eyes and smacked her back gently once, making her snort at your attempt to help.

"For me?" She repeated, eyes wide and glimmering as she followed you like a lost puppy into her living room. She watched as you picked up Owen's coat off of a barstool between two fingers, like it grossed you out. She leaned against the doorway of her kitchen, laughing softly as you flicked it away and brushed off the stool, then sat down.

"Well, definitely not for your boyfriend," you replied, giving her a teasing smile. You plopped the bag on to the counter, folding both of your hands in your lap and giving her a knowing smile. "Don't say anything about the bag except thank you, or I might actually combust, okay?"

Abby rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She pushed herself off the doorframe and shuffled over, hands raised up in a mocking defense.

"Okay, okay," she said, sitting down on the stool next to you. She tried not to pay too close attention to the way you scooted forward, facing towards her as you dramatically handed her the bag, doing a little ta-da-esque hand gesture that made her snort.

Abby's eyes watched your excited face as her hand shifted through the bag. It brushed against something soft, and her eyebrows furrowed, half-convinced you had gifted her a ridiculous hat to wear, until she pulled it out and her heart stopped.

Bits of glitter fluttered down to the ground around her, and she would've scolded you, would've said something, if she wasn't frozen in place with her breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes wandered over the neat penmanship of her name, at the coins with holes carefully hammered into them so they could be strung on the side, at the little snowflakes at the end of her name and the shiny velvet that reminded her of all the times you complimented her blonde hair, calling it more beautiful than a golden August sunset. God, she could feel her heart aching in her chest.

"Do you like it?" You asked quietly, voice timid after her long silence and lack of response.

Abby quickly wiped at her eyes, sniffling, though she still refused to meet your gaze. She nodded, letting out a pathetic chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, of course I do," she said, though it didn't sound as confident as she wanted it to. "Of course I do, thank you."

You took her hesitance the entirely wrong way, her reaction as negative, and instantly began rambling to cover your embarrassment.

"I just remembered you saying something about wanting one, and I had the stuff -- well, I had to make a short trip to the craft store but that's okay because I never mind going there --"

The barstool squeaked as Abby pushed herself from it, rushing towards you with hungry hands and eyes and a starving mouth that wrapped warmly around yours. Her hands cradled your face, her eyes squeezing shut as she crashed into you, tears falling down her cheeks.

You let out a small squeak, frozen for a moment before melting into her touch, hands coming down from trying to push her away to pulling her closer by the hem of her shirt.

That was the first time you kissed Abby.

The second time was on New Years, when she walked you home after you got a little too tipsy and she was eager to escape from Owen.

"What are we doing?" You had murmured against her lips, shivering as cold snowflakes fell on to your intertwined bodies, and she had only shrugged, mumbling back an I don't know as you pulled her inside and began to undress her.

You had never bothered trying to clarify things after that, letting things be as they were. You tried to convince yourself that it wasn't as bad as it was -- that you were just really close with Abby, that this was more of a friends with benefits thing that was good for Abby as she tried to figure out what the fuck was going on with her and Owen. You tried to convince yourself that it was nothing more, and that this was okay.

"'S okay, baby, it's okay, I've got you sweet girl, holy shit --"

Abby babbled nonsense as you gushed around her fingers, sprawled out in her bed and panting, bare breasts shimmering in the sweat and moonlight of her apartment window.

"Fuck, oh my god, Abby," you whined, one of your legs propped over her shoulder. She desperately bucked her hips into it, her clothed clit catching deliciously between her underwear and the soft curve of your ass, and her grinding only further pushing her fingers inside of you.

"I know, I know, fuck," she hissed back, biting down on your calf to try to quiet herself.

It was late February, and you two had continued this [un]ethical affair for far longer than you were comfortable with, but you couldn't deny that despite Abby's inexperience with girls, she was an absolute gem in the bedroom, one you just couldn't turn away so soon. At least, that was the reason you convinced yourself with.

Abby and Owen had had another argument, and she had sent him out for about the millionth time, picked up her phone and called you over for about the millionth-and-first time. You always came running when she called.

While you fought yourself over the morality of it, Abby was far beyond caring at this point. The only reason she hadn't broken up with Owen wasn't because of any fleeting feelings towards him, but because she was more concerned with the prospect of dealing with what it meant to cheat on your boyfriend with another girl,and the terms that came with admitting the reality of her predicament. So, for now, it was easier to spark arguments with her piece of shit boyfriend and send him out so she could pile-drive you into her mattress and bury her thoughts deep inside of your cunt.

"Mmpf, fuck, I'm gonna cum," You squealed out, head flopping back against the mattress and eyes rolling back as you felt your body nearing that bursting point. Abby could feel your thighs shaking, and she moaned at the sight, brushing her thumb over your clit between her sweet praises.

With a loud moan, you shattered around her fingers for what had to be the fourth or fifth time that night. Salty tears slipped down your face as you came, babbling nonsense and digging your nails into her arm in a way that had her hissing and groaning.

"Fuck," she swore under her breath, the pace of her hips increasing as she watched you. The damp patch on her boxers was near dripping capacity as she slumped over you, desperately chasing her own high. "God, you're gorgeous."

"Gonna cum for me?" You whined, legs shaking uncontrollably at the overstimulation. Abby pulled her hand away and ripped her boxers off, grunting as she nodded stupidly, rubbing her clit against your puffy cunt.

"Yeah, fuck, I'm gonna -- shit -- I'm gonna c--"

The apartment walls rattled with a slam that had you jumping back some, eyes going wide. Abby's hand slapped over your mouth just as you went to scream, squeal, or whatever surprised noise was threatening to slip out and alert the drunken Owen wandering through Abby's apartment.

"Abby?" He called, just her name alone slurring so much it was barely intelligible.

"Shit," Abby groaned quietly, and both of you exchanged worried glances as Owen's voice kept growing louder, coming closer.

"Abby!" He called again, this time more clear. When his footsteps became audible, Abby's hand tightened around your mouth.

"Fuck off!" She snapped back, turning slightly so she could yell through the door.

"Come on, baby, can't we talk this out?" He slurred back through the door, coming closer.

"I swear to god, Owen, if you don't leave me the fuck alone, I'll beat your ass to a fucking pulp!" She snapped, her other hand under your knee tightening in a bruising strength.

Your stomach fluttered with panic as your eyes shifted between the unlocked bedroom door, where the shadows of Owen's feet were very much there, and the way you and Abby were tangled against each other in an extremely compromising position.

"What's your fucking problem?" He snarled back through the door, and Abby rolled her eyes.

"You are! I'm fucking serious, Owen, leave me alone!"

You knew just as much as Owen did that Abby probably would beat him if he walked in right now, though you weren't sure if it was in the hopes of short-term amnesia or just out of pure anger.

Thankfully, Owen grumbled something about Abby being a bitch (to which she scoffed) and shuffled away. There was a small thud, presumably him slumping against the couch, and then the living room TV turned on.

Abby let out a sigh of relief, turning back to you. She looked down at you, panting, and then let out a relieved chuckle.

Instinctively, you went to push her hand away, ready to pull your clothes back on and hightail it out of there, but Abby gently slapped your hand away, furrowing her eyebrows and mouthing what?

You widened your eyes in disbelief.

He's right there! You mouthed back, shaking your head as her hand snaked back down to below your thigh, resuming its previous position.

Abby only chuckled, trying to wave you off, but your eyes widened impossibly further as she began rolling her hips against you again, heavy panting filling the room. Anxiety flooded your stomach, and you tried to push her off.

"Abby!" You hissed, and she only gave you an annoyed look, like you were the one being insane right now.

"What?" She repeated, though this time it was in a much more mocking tone. Of course, she knew exactly why you were freaking out, but she couldn't help the way it further enticed her.

"He is going to hear us!" You whispered smacking her shoulder. Abby rolled her eyes, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding them with such ease between just one of her hands. Her hips continued their assault against your overstimulated cunt, and you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a broken whine.

"Not if you’re quiet," she whispered, licking her lips as she stifled her own moan.

Abby leaned over you, tucking her face into your neck as she worked herself on you, into you when her clit caught against your entrance. She chuckled when you kicked against her, squirming to escape and fighting to not make a noise, but kept herself there, grinding right into your sensitive hole until you were biting down on her shoulder to keep quiet.

"That's it, that's it," she encouraged softly, letting out a soft grunt that made you tense up, but when Owen didn't come storming into the room, screaming and threatening, you melted into her next thrust. You let out hesitant sighs of pleasure that made Abby purr against your throat.

"Shhh, just like that, baby, 'm almost done, I promise," she said, her voice breaking between the last few words. Her hand let go of your wrists, opting to grab at the mattress and use it as leverage as she pushed harder against you. The bed moved, but she was so calculated and collected about it that the headboard just barely smacked the wall, only a soft tap echoing through the room.

"I got you, I got you baby," she breathed, letting out a soft whine. Her hips stuttered as the bed rocked, and your nails dug into her back, teeth threatening to draw blood into her skin as you tried so hard not to alert the man in the living room.

"Shit, just be quiet a little longer for me, okay? Good girl, good fucking girl."

#abby anderson #smut #x reader #tlou2 #tlou part 2 #tlou #fanfiction #ao3 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #lesbian #female reader #wow #ellie williams

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yallthemwitches · 3 months ago

Text

United Front

Lily and James have the best intentions when showing up to Petunia's engagement party.

Written for Day 2 of Jily Week (hosted by @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee) , Prompt: Partners in Crime

AO3 link Here

“She’s going to be cruel.”

“Brilliant, I love women who are dastardly.”

“No, I mean she’s going to find the thing deep inside you that you hold most dear, taunt it to oblivion– then crush it.”

“Very poetic of you Evans.”

“James, I need you to be serious. I need us to be a united front.”

They walked down the main street of Cokeworth. On a normal day where she wasn’t dreading her near future, Lily would have relished the idea of taking James on a little tour of her town. The fall leaves were littering the walkways and little shops had placed out intricate decorations ushering in the fall weather.

Lily stopped abruptly and James followed suit. Paces ahead of them was a heavily flowered awning with large pink and yellow bows plastered all over it. Cresting the door to the building was a large sign that read in flowing script: Congratulations soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.

“Don’t weddings usually happen in a church for muggles?” James fingered one of the balloons, making it bop back and forth.

“It’s not a wedding. It's the engagement party—now let me see you.”

Lily gave him the once over. His button down was undone just enough to see where his clavicle connected to his chest and his slacks were well fitted on his bum.

“Damn—you’re too fit,” she breathed out. James beamed and gave her a soft kiss.

“Thanks–”

“No, I mean really, you're too fit. She’s going to be so cross.” James’ brow crinkled.

“Er, I’m not following.” Before Lily could explain, the door to the house burst open. Petunia was in a light yellow and peach party dress that looked like it was straight out of a 1950’s refrigerator ad.

“What? You just going to hold court there all day?” Petunia clasped the door tightly with one hand.

“Hello to you too Tuney.” Lily tried to remain composed. “Congratulations on your engagement! We brought you some flowers.”

Petunia took one look at the bouquet in Lily’s arms. “You really shouldn’t have.”

She took them and walked around the porch, setting them in the back corner where they were hardly visible.

“There,” Petunia said with a nod. “Now they won’t clash with the decoration.”

James side-eyed Lily whose friendly facade was crumbling fast. The smile on her face quivered with rage.

“Who is this, why is he here?” Petunia didn’t even look James in the eye, rather giving him a once over before turning a hot shade of pink that clashed with her dress.

“This is my boyfriend—you said I could bring him.”

“Where’s the other boy?” James head whipped over to Lily who looked just as confused as he felt.

“What other boy?” Lily spat back, flustered.

“You know the one who always looks sickly.”

“Oh, Remus? He’s not my boyfriend Tuney—you knew that. James is.”

James decided he had enough of being talked about without any interjection.

“Nice to meet you…and congradu—”

Petunia gave him another once over, but this time with a more discerning eye. Her pale ears turned red.

“I mean honestly, Lily. I can’t believe you would do this to me, you always need to be better—well come on.”

She turned her body to the side leaving an opening to enter the house. Lily grabbed hold of James’ arm and tugged him past and down a hall that was draped with various silk bows.

“Uhm—I know I’m not keen on the muggle ways of conversation but—what was that?”

Lily trudged forward still holding his forearm tightly in her hand.

“She thinks you're fit. I told you she’d be angry—don’t worry about it.”

They reached the sitting room where a backdoor was open and a cacophony of people wafted into the house. Lily stopped walking and turned to James. She put both hands on either side of him and he instinctively lowered his forehead to rest upon hers.

“We’re a team. A united front. We will survive this.” Lily chanted to herself with her eyes closed.

James gave her a little squeeze and pulled her into his chest.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have some drinks, talk about muggle stuff that I’ll pretend to understand, and then I can take you back to school, get you out of this gorgeous dress, and then we can shag all the stress of the evening away.”

Lily snorted and James made a soft smile. “You’re a git.”

“Love you too.” He gave her a kiss on the nose and they locked hands to enter the back garden.

Outside a large table had been adorned with enough frill to supply the entirety of England. A table of drinks had been set up and Vernon stood with a few men Lily didn’t know drinking beers around it. On the other corner of the garden, a bunch of women stood tightly in a circle only to break apart to eye another party guest with disdain.

“So—a drink?” James offered. Regardless of being the most out of place in the whole event, James carried himself as though the party was meant for him. It was a trait that in other moments might have annoyed her, but she was thankful to have some relief from the suffocating feeling of anxiety.

James pulled Lily over to the drink table and Vernon turned with heavy effort to intercept them.

“Lily–” Vernon didn’t smile. His eyes were wide to the point where they actually seemed to fit his head for once. He looked at James with the same expression and James’ face eluded pure joy. If there was one thing James Potter could sense, it was someone he could take the piss out of.

“James Potter.” He offered his hand which Vernon eyed with utter disdain. James lowered his hand back to his side, unfazed by the rejection. If anything he smiled wider.

“This is my sister's fiancee, Vernon,” Lily gave James hand a squeeze. She knew his mischievous grin from anywhere.

James ignored her signal. “Absolutely charmed.”

Vernon coughed at the mention of charm and Lily shot James a warning glance.

“Er—I was actually hoping to see you two before Petunia came back out—could we?” Vernon gestured over to a secluded spot in the lawn far away from any of the other guests. Lily and James followed him as Vernon made a little bit too much of a show of not wanting anyone to notice.

Before they could say anything Vernon’s wide eyes soured into a deep anger. He directed his words at Lily.

“I am well aware that we were obligated to invite you on the account of you being family, but I am just going to say this once: if you plan to have any sort of performances this evening that could spoil the night, I suggest you save it for whatever circus you came from. I’ll not be having your kind come and mess up my lovely evening.”

Lily’s cheeks flushed and her eyes became glassy. She had expected them to be rude, sure, but not downright hostile to her—and even in front of someone they had no reason to question.

James’ grin had disappeared and now his jaw was locked. “Excuse me–first off you can stop pointing at my girlfriend like that,” Lily had not noticed that Vernon had clutched a finger outwards between them during his little speech, “second, what exactly are you implying?” Lily grabbed hold of James’ forearm, but he shrugged it away.

“James–it's fine, let me handle it.” Lily tried to sound stern, despite feeling shaken from being threatened by her own future brother in law.

“Well Vernon,” Lily’s eyes were slits, “I wasn’t planning on any performances as you call it, but seeing as you are being such a bloody arsehole—”

James hid his laugh with a cough. Vernon’s eyebrows shot up his face, his cheeks reddened to the point of purple. Petunia, who had caught sight of their gathering from the window, came rushing out towards them, looking panicked.

“Vernon darling, what has happened?” She whipped her head towards Lily. “What did you do already?”

“Well, your bloody freak sister and her punk boyfriend just insulted me—at my own party!” Petunia rubbed Vernon’s arm while darting her head to either side of the garden, hoping that no other party goers were listening in.

“We didn’t say anything that wasn’t already provoked, you know for invited guests and family you haven’t exactly made us feel welcome,” James shot back.

Petunia whispered some words into Vernon’s ear and he mumbled in response back. He shot James a dirty look before thundering back over to the drinks table where the men surrounded him once more.

Petunia watched as he left and faked a sickly looking smile at the guests who glanced their way. She spun back towards Lily.

“You need to leave. I knew this would be a mistake.”

Lily’s face flushed. The battle between anger and sadness culminated into rosy blotches on her cheeks.

“Fine. We were just going anyway. This party is a drag. Come on James.”

Lily stormed back to the door and entered the house ahead of him. James opened his mouth to say something to Petunia, but she had already departed their corner and was chattering amongst the group of women, acting as though she hadn’t just banished her own sister from her party.

James found Lily sitting on the front stoop of the house, sniffling and rubbing her eyes.

He sat down next to her, procuring two cans of gin and tonic from his pocket. “Nicked these as a souvenir.”

Lily let out a meek laugh and took one from his hand. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, softly stroking her hair.

“Sorry if I wasn’t a good teammate today,” he pushed his lips into her hair.

“Nah, you were the best. Sorry my family is such shit—at least now you have witnessed it.”

“Yea, honestly—fuck ‘em.” Lily let out a real laugh this time and James leaned down to kiss it.

“But, to be fair,” he continued, “ it's not everyday we get to take an excursion out of school and I get to see you in a bloody fantastic dress so, despite the tiny upset I’d say this was a success.”

Lily leaned her head on his shoulder and took a breath. The sun was setting and the cool air was setting in.

“What was it you promised me when we got back? To shag all my stress away?” The second it left Lily’s mouth, James’ body perked up.

“I mean, it was an awfully stressful night.”

“Yeah, awfully—we should definitely, definitely do something about that.”

James grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her up. She laughed at his enthusiasm as he practically ran them past the gate and back onto the mainstreet where Sirius’ motorbike lay waiting for them. The night born anew.

#jily week 2024 #Jily Week Day 2 #james potter #jily #lily evans #hp #jily fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #Dursleys #Meet the family #some silly fluff #james x lily

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tieronecrush · 1 year ago

Text

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

wc: 10k (oops?)

warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!

a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!

Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.

Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.

Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands.

Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.

Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely.

There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.

Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble.

Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.

The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.

Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.

“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin.

Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”

He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”

Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.

“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.

In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.

“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.

“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”

“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”

Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.

However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.

“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.

“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”

“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”

As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.

“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.

“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.

“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.

“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”

The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.

“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.

“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”

“You sure you need me for this group costume?”

“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”

“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.

It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.

At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.

Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.

There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.

Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.

Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.

Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.

All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.

With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”

“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.

In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”

“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”

Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.

“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.

Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.

Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.

You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.

Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.

“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.

Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.

“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”

Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.

“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.

“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”

“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”

Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”

Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.

Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.

“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”

With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”

“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”

“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.

“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.

Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.

He looks ridiculous.

Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.

No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls.

The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.

Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.

The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.

Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.

These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.

Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar.

You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.

His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward.

All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.

Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.

“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.

“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.

Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”

“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.

“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—

Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.

At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.

“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.

“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further.

Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.

He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”

“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.

“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”

He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”

“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.

“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”

They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”

Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.

“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”

Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.

They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.

Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”

Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”

Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.”

Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.

With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”

Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”

Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”

Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”

They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently.

Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.

The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.

The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.

He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?

He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.

Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.

Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.

Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.

But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.

Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”

Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”

Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”

“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.

Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response.

Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.

“Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.

“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.

“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.

Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”

“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”

“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”

“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”

Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.

You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”

His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.

“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.

He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.

“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”

His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.

Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.

Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”

A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.

You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.

“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”

“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.

“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.

“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”

“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.

Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.

“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.

“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.

“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.

“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”

You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.

“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use.

Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.

“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high.

A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.

Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.

The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.

“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.

“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.

Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”

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guiltyasdave · 1 year ago

Text

it’s the season

part of the space sisters secret santa 2023 - for @pascalispretty, merry christmas sophie! 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.8k

summary: Joel had promised his daughters that they would bake Christmas cookies this weekend - which turns out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, their new neighbor next door can help.

tags: AU! no outbreak, Joel has both of his daughters, FLUFF, hints at reader’s sad backstory but nothing specific, mentions of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed something <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

full masterlist here

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates

shoutout to @reddedmiller for holding my hand while writing this and convincing me that it’s not trash, i love you bby <3

It’s Sunday, one week until Christmas, and Joel Miller is beginning to lose his mind.

His daughters had been bugging him about baking Christmas cookies with them for weeks, and he wants nothing more than to make them happy, but while Joel is many things, he’s certainly not a baker.

Work has been hectic lately, which apparently led to him forgetting to buy the ingredients that the girls swear up and down they had requested several times.

He’s had to sent Sarah to ask one of their neighbors to lend them something twice now and by the looks of it, he’s gonna have to do it a third time. She groans and insists to take Ellie with her this time, complaining about how this is “sooooo embarrassing, Dad!”

You furrow your brow when your doorbell rings for the third time in half an hour, a slightly disbelieving look on your face when you open the door and once again reveal the young girl from next door standing on your porch, this time accompanied by who you think is her younger sister.

You only moved into the house a month ago and don’t really know any of your neighbors, except for the elderly couple that lives a few houses over. They had introduced themselves hours after you moved in and have tried to invite you to come to Sunday church with them several times, an invitation that you consistently decline.

You know the girls though, you often see them through your windows, constantly pestering their father, who constantly fends them off in a kind of gruffy but clearly loving manner.

The girl who had introduced herself as “Sarah” when she first came by thirty minutes ago to ask for baking powder smiles at you apologetically.

“Hi… again. I’m so sorry, do you by any chance have cinnamon as well?”

You can't help but laugh this time. “What are you guys even doing over there? I think I do, why don’t you come in while I go check?” They nod and follow you into your kitchen where you start digging through your supply of baking ingredients.

“Our Dad said he’d bake Christmas cookies with us today, but he forgot to get the groceries for it,” the other girl explains. “I’m Ellie, by the way.” You smile and tell her your name, then hand over the cinnamon to them.

“That’s very sweet of your Dad,” you remark, “I’m sure he’s trying his best.”

Ellie’s eyes fly over your neatly organized collection of ingredients and baking utensils, then her face lights up with an idea.

“Hey! You look like you’re a good baker and our Dad is really struggling to be honest. Do you want to come over and join us?”

“Ellie,” Sarah argues, “you can’t just invite people like that, I’m sure she has plans already.”

You don’t, to be fair, but you’ve never spoken to their father before, who’s rather giving the impression that he likes to keep to himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” you begin, when Sarah looks around herself and notices that you don’t have any Christmas decorations up around your house.

“Or do you not celebrate Christmas?” she asks, “You obviously don’t have to come if that’s not…”

Your heart warms at how considerate the young girl is trying to be. “No I do, I just didn’t…” you trail off, not sure how to explain that it feels pointless putting up decorations just for yourself and that you don’t want the reminders that it will be the first Christmas in your life that you’ll be spending completely alone. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face. You do like baking and maybe this will help getting you into the spirit.

“You know what? Okay, if it’s alright with your Dad, I’ll come over and see how I can help.”

Both girls beam at you and you follow them over to their house, where you find their Dad elbows deep in a mixing bowl with dough sticking to his fingers and swearing to himself under his breath. You feel awkward and definitely like an intruder but the girls’ mouths are going a mile a minute, explaining how you had soooo many baking supplies and that you had agreed to help them.

Their Dad introduces himself as “Joel” and you feel your cheeks heating when you notice how attractive he is up close. You had already thought that when you’ve seen him from afar, but now that you’re standing in his kitchen, it really hits you. Trying to snap out of it, you take a closer look at the dough that he’s fighting with.

“This needs more flour, then it’ll be less sticky,” you mutter, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and go to add it to the mix in his bowl. He huffs a “Thanks” and you smile, still fighting the heat in your cheeks but also feeling excitement buzz through you as your hand brushes against his when you pull back.

The girls kick back into action then, throwing several recipes at you that they want to try and you do your best to coordinate it all, running back to your place for ingredients several times, accompanied by an apologetic look from Joel every time, but you honestly don’t mind. His daughters are adorable and you’re having more fun than you’ve had in months.

Sarah turns on the radio and Christmas songs sound through the kitchen. With the music in your ear and the smell of freshly baked cookies in your nose, you feel at ease, comfortable.

When all the cookies are baked and thoroughly taste tested, the girls retreat to their rooms on the upper floor, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. You find that you don’t want to leave, don’t want to go back to that big empty house where it’s just you, not now that you’ve basked in the warmth of this family home right next to yours all day. And just maybe, you want to spend more time with Joel.

“I have a bottle of pretty good red wine, shall I go and bring that? Half of my kitchen’s contents are here already” you joke and Joel laughs.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m usually better prepared, but work’s been crazy these weeks and the girls insisted on baking today, so…” He scratches his neck and you smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had a great time today. Finally got me into the holiday spirit a bit, I kinda really needed that.”

You walk over and take the wine bottle back to his place where you sit down in the living room, the Christmas tree that has been mostly decorated by the girls shining in the corner and the several strings of fairy lights that Sarah has spread all over the room glowing around you.

You feel a warmth and comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, but also a kind of envy for this feeling of family, of how clearly this man and the two girls belong together, how their house is basically imbued with love for each other. A feeling that you’re not sure you’ve ever had, but that you suddenly find yourself desperately longing for.

“So…” Joel begins, a faint expression of uncertainty on his face. “Is it just you over there, or…?” You understand what he’s asking and nod, a wry smile playing around your lips.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story, really, but yes, it’s just me.” The understanding is clear on his face and he doesn’t push you, sensing that you don’t want to expand on the subject and you’re grateful.

You still talk about both of your pasts, where you grew up, where you went to school, learning that Joel lost his parents when he was young, only two years after he had Sarah, how it had been just the both of them in the beginning, with the addition of his younger brother whom he speaks of with the loving kind of exasperation that only an older sibling can muster up, and how he adopted Ellie a few years later.

You finish the bottle quicker than you would like to, and when Joel walks you home and you’re both stood in front of your door, you’re drunk on more than the red wine, a happiness in your veins that warms you from within.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face.

“Listen, I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’, but would you want to come over for Christmas Eve? ‘S just me an’ the girls, nothin’ fancy, just-“ he shrugs, his hands buried in his pockets, “don’t like the thought of you alone in this house on Christmas.”

It might be embarrassing how quickly you say “yes”, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. A smile stretches across Joel’s face as he tells you “good night” and kisses your cheek before you step into your house and watch him walk back to his.

Christmas at the Miller household is one of the best evenings that you’ve ever had. Sarah and Ellie have gone all out on the decorations now that they have a guest, leaving twinkling lights, glitter and ornaments in every corner and on every surface, Joel makes a surprisingly good dinner, you’re playing board games with the girls that dissolve into fights between them most of the time, everyone is talking over each other and you’re all eating chocolate until you’re sick with the sugar high.

Late in the evening, with both of the girls softly snoring on the couch, tangled up in each other like two overly large kittens, Joel and you are sharing another bottle of wine. You feel so full of happiness that you feel like you might burst, a smile on your face that feels like it’s never gonna leave again.

When it’s time for you to go home, Joel stands with you and walks with you to his front door. “Thank you again, for inviting me,” you smile at him, “this was probably the best Christmas Eve that I’ve ever had.”

He nods, his gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He leans in and you hesitantly do the same. Before you can overthink it, you cradle his face in your hands and pull him towards you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against your lips.

i hope you liked this!!! merry christmas and happy holidays 🫶🏻

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #janas fics #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel and ellie #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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that night was a mistake.

from a request for a childhood friends to lovers fic with Ona and reader :)

I had intended for this to be... significantly shorter and significantly less angsty but this is what I came up with and i'm rolling with it.

there will be at least one more part

tw. homophobia [not accepting parents]. panic attack. no smut... yet.

The news of Ona signing onto play at Barca should not have filled your stomach with butterflies, but it did. It should have just been an exciting piece of information to receive , but it wasn't. Instead, it sent you spiraling back to your youth, your confusing friendship with Ona. The way you'd left things. It had been a while since you'd seen each other, really seen each other. You'd stepped away from the national team like everyone else had, but unlike Ona, you had not gone back. Even then, you hadn't been around her much since you'd both played on the Barcelona B team. Since you'd so incredibly, so inexplicably fucked things up. The idea of seeing Ona again, not just for a week or two, but every day, was more than a little overwhelming.

Which is how you found yourself on Mapi and Ingrid's front porch at 10pm, the day Ona's signing had been announced. It only occurred to you that you probably looked like a mess, and your unexpected arrival would probably concern your older friends, once you'd already knocked. The door flew open before you could rethink your actions, and Mapi's surprised face stared back at you, quickly turning into one of concern.

"Are you ok? What happened?" Her voice was filled with worry, and you suddenly wished you'd come up with any other plan than the one you'd chosen.

"Um. I'm not really sure. Do you have a second to talk?" Your voice sounded shaky despite your best efforts to steady it, and Mapi's eyebrows creased even further, as she wordlessly stepped aside to let you in, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, leading you to the couch.

Mapi looked at you with a searching gaze and asked, "Do you want me to get Ingrid?" after you'd perched on the couch, looking around for the defender's other half without even really realizing it. You paused, considering, before nodding your head, deciding that you needed to pull yourself together before you spoke again. Mapi disappeared into the bedroom, clearly taking a minute to explain that you were sitting on their couch and acting weird to Ingrid, as you heard muffled voices.

You focused on the little details of the room, attempting to force yourself back into the present. You loved Mapi and Ingrid's place. It was so them. So domestic. The comfy couch, the decorations that were clearly chosen by the Norwegian. The various items left strewn about on the counter, that could only have been left there by Mapi. You felt safe there, you reminded yourself. Ingrid and Mapi would never judge you. They'd do their best to understand, and maybe they'd be able to help.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize the couple had walked into the room until you felt Ingrid's hand grab yours gently, her green eyes meeting yours, filled with so much concern, you felt yourself wilt a little.

"What's going on nena?" Mapi questioned as she took a seat on the couch next to Ingrid. You took a deep breath, deciding to launch into the story before you could change your mind.

It made sense that you were confiding in the older couple. You were young when you'd joined Barca, and Mapi had taken you under her wing. She'd become fiercely protective of you, and Ingrid had quickly followed suit when they'd gotten together. You told them everything. All of it. You'd never done that before, not with anyone. What had happened lived inside a little box in your head that you never let even yourself open.

You started from the beginning, how you and Ona had been really close when you'd played on the B team together. Best friends, before anything else. As you got older, things got different. The two of you got closer, until you were... confusingly close. Maybe it was only confusing to you; you'd been incredibly repressed back then. Staunchly convinced you weren't gay. Deep down, you had known, you'd always known. But that wasn't a reality you thought you could have, not with your parents being the way they were. Ona didn't seem to have the same problems that you did, always shrugging her shoulders at questions about the closeness of the 2 of you, as if she didn't care, when the same questions made you lose your breath, terrified of the implications.

Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising to you, then, when she'd kissed you. It was the obvious direction things were headed, but as she pressed her lips to yours in the dark of the club on her 18th birthday, all you could think was that this would ruin everything. It didn't matter how good it felt, how perfect her lips felt against yours, soft and tasting of cherry chapstick and tequila. It only mattered that you couldn't do this. Not you. Not with a girl, even Ona. It was fine if it was anyone else that was gay, it just wasn't fine if it was you.

So you'd pulled back, even though it killed you to do so. You watched the hurt flash across her face as you told her that you couldn't do this, as you backed away from her, out of the club, and walked all the way home. And even though you wanted to pretend that what happened had not mattered, it had. Because when you got home, you took one look at your parents sitting in the living room, at the crosses that hung on chains from their necks, the picture of fucking Jesus on the wall. And the words left your mouth before you could stop them. The kiss with Ona had changed something in you, and you couldn't go back.

"I'm gay." You had said, voice full of confidence, even as your heart pounded in your chest. They'd asked you to repeat yourself, and you had. They didn't seem surprised, only disappointed . Disappointed as they told you they expected you to move out the minute you turned 18, that they wouldn't support that kind of behavior. You hadn't fought them, hadn't yelled. You'd simply walked back into your bedroom, letting tears fall silently as you felt your family and your best friend, your Ona, slip away from you. She'd never really talked to you after that. She lifted out of your life like she'd never been in it. You never tried to explain yourself, determined that you could only be bad for Ona, that she was better off without you, without your mess.

At this point in the story, you were crying, tears streaming down your face as you admitted the truth for the first time. You lifted your gaze to see Mapi's face contorted in anger, Ingrid's eyes filled with tears. If you hadn't been so upset, you might have laughed at how typical their reactions were. Wiping your face harshly, you continued.

"I moved out the day I turned 18. Ona went to Madrid, and I stayed at Barca, and she never looked at me the same way again. I destroyed her that night, and I never told her why, never told her that I hadn't meant it. I'd just let her go. And now she's coming back, and I don't think I know how to be around her, how to talk to her like I haven't loved her with every inch of my soul for 6 years. And I just. Don't know what to do," your voice broke on the last word, and the sobs you'd been bravely holding in broke free, loud and filled with pain, filling the air.

It wasn't even a second before you felt yourself being pulled into Ingrid's arms, and you held on to her rather desperately, hand fisting into the soft material of her sweater, letting yourself fall apart completely against her. Her hands rubbed your back softly, and you felt Mapi scoot closer, pulling both of you into her arms. You cried until you couldn't cry anymore, and they remained a steady presence, holding you tightly until your sobs slowed to pathetic little sniffles you hated. You pulled away from them after several minutes, taking a deep breath, wiping the tears off your face, already knowing your breakdown would be evident the next morning.

Mapi handed you a glass of water that she'd seemingly procured from thin air and you gulped it down. You finally raised your head to meet their eyes, fearing the pity you would see there. You didn't find it; you only found empathy. You didn't miss the way Ingrid's hand was gripping Mapi's, or the way the sight of it made your heart clench, and your brain immediately fill with thoughts of Ona.

"Thank you for telling us that. I don't really know what to say, other than that you didn't deserve that from your parents." Ingrid spoke softly, as if she'd scare you away if she spoke in her normal voice. The two of them had always known something had happened between you and your parents, and between you and Ona, but you never spoke of it. Ever.

You nodded once, shooting Ingrid a weak smile, before looking to Mapi. She loved Ona, and you weren't really sure how she would act in response to your self perceived transgressions. She surprised you, as she often does, by taking one of your hands in hers. You focused on the tattoos littering her arms, instead of meeting her eyes.

"You can't beat yourself up for this, carino. You were just a kid, you were scared, and you were just trying to survive. It's been 6 years, maybe it's time you try to explain what happened to Ona." Her words were gentle, carrying a seriousness you rarely heard from the defender.

You shook your head. "She probably hates me. I led her on, and I ruined our friendship, and I didn't try to apologize or explain myself in the 6 years that have passed. It's not like I haven't had the chance, we see each other at national duties all the time."

"Well... then you just do what you do at camp. You be friendly, and you let her come to you. If she wants to talk, she'll tell you," she replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. That was one of your favorite things about Mapi. She always respected your decisions, even if they weren't the ones she would make. She never tried to change your mind when you were set on something.

"It'll take time to get used to her being here, but it'll work out," Ingrid chimed in. Suddenly, it all felt less intense than it had before. You could deal with this. Either you'd end up talking to her, or you wouldn't. Everything would be fine. Your friends were right, it would all work out.

"Thank you guys. Really. I'm sorry for bothering you with this, I know it's a lot," you tried to express your apologies, feeling like you'd maybe been a little dramatic, but they stopped you.

"No, y/n, you don't need to apologize. Both of us have told you to come to us if you need help; you did, and we're glad. We're always happy to help you." Mapi spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. You nodded again, eyes a little watery again, mumbling another quiet thank you.

You yawned then, absolutely exhausted from the emotional ordeal you'd put yourself through. The other girls chuckled lightly, pulling you to lay down on the couch and covering you with a blanket. They left you to rest, with promises that everything would feel easier in the morning.

-----

Months passed, and you found yourself surrounded by reminders of the brunette defender you felt so conflicted about. Everyone was excited about her return to Barcelona, and the world cup she won only increased everything. You managed to keep your head on straight, not losing your mind and having a breakdown like you had in June. Your friends kept a close eye on you, Mapi hovering over you, the same way she did with Patri and Claudia in the weeks of the world cup, maybe a little extra concerned with you. Ingrid kept tabs on you through Mapi, and she called you often, asking searchingly how you were doing, as if she expected you to freak out again.

Your first interaction with Ona wasn't on her first day with the team. It came on your return from Mexico with the rest of the team that hadn't played in the final. Obviously, you'd seen Ona plenty over the past few years. She did her best to avoid you, which made sense, but total lack of contact wasn't possible when you played on the same national team. You didn't know what made today different, why your heart was pounding as you walked into the locker room on the first day back at training after the Mexico tour. It was different this time; more permanent. It wasn't just a few weeks of letting Ona avoid you; it was months of seeing each other every day.

You neared the locker room, and you heard loud voices echoing out of it. You weren't surprised, it was the first time the team was all back together since June, and there was a lot to catch up on. You entered, taking a deep breath, and walked to your locker, responding as the room echoed with greetings towards you. Your eyes immediately found Ona, sitting relaxed in her cubby, talking to Aitana and Mariona. She looked gorgeous. Even in the plain grey and black training top, her hair sitting loose around her shoulders, she was breathtaking.

She laughed at something Mario said, throwing her head back as she did. You couldn't pull your eyes off of her. She looked over at you then, still chuckling at whatever ridiculous joke Mariona had just told. She caught your eye, and you saw her smile fall slightly, an unreadable looking flashing through her eyes before she fixed her smile, raising her hand in a small wave. You returned the gesture, before forcing yourself to look away, walking to Ingrid's cubby, and wordlessly taking a seat on the ground in front of the bench. You handed her your hairbrush, avoiding the searching looks her and Mapi sent you, silently asking the Norwegian to fix your hair. She did, after giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Your first practice back was good, as were the rest of the practices leading up to your first game. The team worked well together, and it felt indescribably good to be back on the pitch with everyone. Especially Ona. The two of you played together just as well as you always had, her passes always miraculously finding you, and you miraculously finding the goal. Your chemistry would have been hard to miss, which is how you found yourselves paired up more often than not. She kept your conversations to small talk, but she was always kind, and if you hadn't known her as well as you did, you would have missed the way she always seemed to hold back around you. Not that you could blame her.

You congratulated her with a high five when she was told she was starting the first game, and tried to ignore how the feeling of her hand against yours sent electric shocks through your body. You guys kept your distance, until you couldn't anymore.

----

Your first game was an away game in Madrid, and you knew from the second you saw Ona on the coach on the way to the pitch that she was nervous. She sat next to Aitana, bouncing her knee, fiddling with her fingers, not saying a word. You'd never seen her this nervous before, and it had you worried. You must have been staring because suddenly the empty seat next to you was filled, and Mapi was plopping down next to you.

"Staring, are we?" she asked with a wry smile, making sure to keep her voice quiet.

"No," you responded defensively, "she just seems really nervous, I was just making sure she was ok."

"... by staring at her?"

"Fuck off. Would you just ask her if she's ok when we get there? Please?" Your voice took on a pleading tone, and Mapi sighed before responding.

"Of course. But you don't need to make sure someone is checking on her-- she has a lot of friends on the team, you aren't the only one who has noticed." she nodded to Alexia and Irene, who were both stealing glances at Ona every so often. Obviously. The captains would check on her. Not you. It wasn't your place.

You simply nodded in response, swallowing the inexplicable lump in your throat at the completely reasonable implication that Ona did not need you. You turned your attention out the window then, watching the cityscape pass you by, focusing on the game ahead, the music playing in your ears. Mapi got the message, moving back to her spot next to Ingrid with a soft pat on your knee.

You arrived at the stadium shortly after, and you forced all thoughts of Ona out of your brain. You got ready for the game, following all of your little rituals. You'd been successful in not thinking about Ona until you left the room with Pina to get tape for your ankles from one of the medical rooms. You were laughing about something as you pushed the door open, but did not find the room empty like you had expected. Instead, Ona was sitting on the floor of the room, knees pulled to her chest, as she frantically tried to catch her breath. You and Pina fell silent, taking in the scene in front of you. Ona was so out of it, she hadn't noticed you enter.

Thinking fast, you turned to Pina, keeping your voice quiet but firm. "Go get Alexia. Don't tell anyone else anything, or she'll be embarrassed. Just get Alexia." Pina nodded, face alarmed and pale, before dashing out of the room. You moved closer to Ona, taking a careful seat on the cold floor next to her.

"Oni? Can you look at me?" You carefully reached a hand out, placing it gently on her back, and she jumped at the contact, hand snapping towards you. Her face was streaked with tears, and she was gasping for air desperately, clearly in the throes of a bad panic attack. It wasn't the first time that you'd seen her like this, and you hoped that she still responded to the things that worked 6 years ago. You also hoped she wouldn't tell you to get out before Alexia could get there.

You started to rub soft circles onto her back, and she leaned slightly into you, resting her head back on her knees. You began to talk to her, trying to bring her out of her head.

"You're okay Oni, just take your time. Slow your breathing down. Everything is ok." You spoke as soothingly as you could, but before you could really tell if what you were doing was working, the door to the room opened softly, and Alexia slipped inside, brow furrowed in concern.

Alexia looked very official in her uniform, already with the captain's armband on, and as softly as she looked at Ona as she took a spot next to her, you knew she would bring the security and authority necessary to calm Ona down.

The midfielder guided Ona's head off her knees, speaking softly to her, taking one of Ona's hands in her own, and pressing it to her chest.

"With me, Ona. Breathe with me. You're fine, we've got you, just match my breaths." Alexia could have possibly the most soothing voice in the world when she wanted to, and Ona immediately responded, fighting to slow her breathing down.

She began to calm, and you decided to slip out, and give Ona the space you assumed she'd want. As you moved to stand, however, a hand reached out, grabbing yours tightly. You looked down in surprise, seeing Ona's flushed face looking up at you. Her deep brown eyes shimmered with tears, wordlessly pleading with you to stay, and without a second thought, you sat back down, entwining your fingers with hers, and squeezing tightly.

Alexia continued to talk to her softly, her eyes occasionally lifting to glance at you, an unreadable expression on your captain's face. Once Ona's breathing had returned to normal, she sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall.

"Sorry." She croaked out, and you opened your mouth to assure her she had nothing to be sorry for, but Alexia beat you to it.

"No, I've told you before, you never have to be sorry for this. It makes sense that you're nervous, it's your first game, but we all have complete confidence in you." Her voice was firm, and left no room to argue, as Ona nodded once. Alexia rose to her feet, and you followed, each of you offering Ona a hand, pulling her to her feet. The two of you trailed out of the room after Alexia, who seemed to have the incredible gift of knowing when 2 people needed to speak to each other alone, as she sent you a look you couldn't decipher, before speeding up and heading back into the locker room.

Ona turned to you, coming to a stop, and you noticed the that you were still holding her hand. It had felt so right, so natural, you hadn't given it a second thought. You pulled your hand away, after giving hers another squeeze, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. The hallway was empty around you, though you could hear the faint sound of you teammates, and the crown outside, every molecule in your body was focused on Ona's eyes boring into yours.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. Sitting with me, and getting Alexia. Thank you, y/n." Her voice was quiet, but her eyes were determined, and you felt like you were really speaking to her for the first time in years. You decided to speak freely then, hoping that some level of honesty would make her feel better.

"Of course, Ona. I know things got... weird. And we never talked about it. But i'm your friend, i'm always gonna be here for you." You said the words gently, hoping your voice conveyed the sincerity you felt. One looked at you searchingly then, as if contemplating . You kept your gaze on hers, not allowing yourself to get distracted by the freckles that covered her face, or the way her jaw twitched as she tried to decide what to say.

"Would you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow? At the place we used to go to? We're gonna be spending a lot of time together, and it probably makes sense if we talk." her words were hesitant, as if she wasn't really sure she should be saying them.

"Yes! Yes. I... I'd really like that." Your voice came out embarrassingly earnest, and you tried to recover, but the look on Ona's face told you that it hadn't worked. She nodded, sending you a slightly more confident smile. She raised a hand to brush over your upper arm, and you had to work hard to keep your body from shuddering at the featherlight touch.

"Good. We should go get ready though." Her smile seemed genuine, and she turned to head into the locker room. You stood in the hall for a second, replaying the light touch to your arm over and over, before you shook your head, and followed her path into the locker room.

----

part 2 will be less horribly depressing and a lot sexier i promise.

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas #mapi leon #ingrid engen #aitana bonmati #claudia pina #ona batlle

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slut4sugu · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄!

! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒. summary: what’s it like dating sugar daddy geto! ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒. description + warnings: age gap (reader is in her mid 20’s geto is in his early 30’s), mentions of phone sex, fingering, mirror sex, fluff, black!femreader, mentions of masturbation

one of the girls . back to masterlist

sugardaddy!geto who fell inlove with your beauty the moment he saw you drinking your problems away at a club, you were the prettiest angel he had ever seen. Yet your eyes lacked a shine in them, so he decided to cheer you up. Once he found out that your dead end job was the cause of your misery he gave you an opportunity to leave that life behind.

sugardaddy!geto who’s heart melted to see your eyes sparkle at the idea of being able to quit your degrading job as a waitress and have your own penthouse downtown. Though you then questioned why he would do this for you, “Because I couldn’t stand to see such a pretty thing like you drinking your life away. Now..what do you say to dinner at 8?”

sugardaddy!geto who picks you up from your apartment in a porche, stepping out of it to open the car door for you. “You look beautiful, I might just have to take you out every night.” You did put in your best to look the part for a high end restaurant, a emerald green dress hugged your figure complimenting your brown skin quite nicely. You did in a long time feel beautiful.A shy smile graced your lips as you got in the luxurious vehicle.

sugardaddy!geto who couldn’t stop looking at you all night, your gorgeous smile and curls were just too cute. The way you looked around the restaurant like a child seeing Christmas for the first time was worth every penny. Your smile was worth every penny.

“You know this could be a daily occurrence for you, a girl like you shouldn’t have to work so hard to have a glimpse at what life can offer.” Geto stated, you hated to agree with him but he was right, you did work hard wayyy to hard to not deserve a little spoiling from a hot rich guy. “What do you mean?” Gently taking your hand in his, his grey eyes looked into your brown ones with love and concern. “I mean I could take care all of your needs, in return you could spend some time with me.”

sugardaddy!geto who took you on your first shopping spree the day after your dinner date, who takes you to all the designer boutiques for outfits for your future dates & outings. “Darling don’t look at the price, if you want it get it.”

sugardaddy!geto who sees you as a goddess, as his angel, a slice of heaven that he gets to see every day

sugardaddy!geto who is starts to see you as more than his sugar baby after a while, the way you say his name starts to become addictive, the way you smile at him, how you hug him tightly after getting surprised with flowers.

sugardaddy!geto who damn near cums in his pants from seeing your pretty face twisted up in pleasure as he pumped two digits in and out of your eager cunt. “Keep looking in that mirror if you wanna cum.”

sugardaddy!geto who loves decorating your brown skin in hickeys and bites, so when you wake up in his bed and he’s not there you have a little reminder of the events from last night <33

sugardaddy!geto who jerks his cock to the sound of you moaning on his phone, your pretty voice whining and pleading for him to come home from his meeting and to fuck you into his mattress.

sugardaddy!geto who would give you the world on a platter if it meant seeing that sparkle in your eyes.

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jo-speaks · 5 months ago

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dinner

in which…

Quinn and fem! reader go out to dinner!

warnings: none!

fourth date in the alphabet dates series!

“All clear?” You asked from inside the car before taking Quinn’s hand and stepping out.

He let out a soft laugh, “Yes ma’am. No paparazzi, no fans, no nothing. Just you and me.”

“And the staff.”

“And the staff.” He parroted, shutting the passenger door of his Porche closed.

It wasn’t a shock when Quinn told you he had set reservations for the Canadian restaurant you had been dying to try since flying out to be with him in Vancouver for the season. He didn’t understand what drew you to the place. It was overwhelming, with its rooftop seating, and its whimsical dishes.

However, the shock came when he told you it would just be the two of you. He loved keeping your relationship decently private, with a few posted pictures here and there, but mostly keeping it between you and him.

As much as you wanted to show off your boyfriend to the world, you knew keeping it private was best. It wasn’t like people didn’t know you were his girlfriend, but social media is a vile place.

You and Quinn walked up the short flight of stairs toward the restaurant entrance, toothy smiles covering both of your faces the whole way up. When you reached the door, Quinn let go of your hand briefly to open the door for you, quickly re-interlacing your fingers with his the second you stepped inside.

“Excited?” He asked, following your trail of sight as you looked up at the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Very. Thank you.”

He smiled widely at your response, “I should be thanking you. This view is to die for.”

You assumed he was talking about the breathtaking decor all around the restaurant, but when you flickered your eyes back to his, you realized he was looking at you.

He eyed your lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right then and there. But the second he leaned in, he heard his name being called.

“Reservation for Hughes?” The hostess asked, holding 2 menus in her hand.

Quinn pulled back, a slight red blush on his face, “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

The hostess smiled, “You two can follow me.”

You laughed softly at his reaction to being caught doing, nothing really. You kissed his lips quickly before tugging his hand gently as the two of you trailed behind the hostess.

She led you two up the staircase and onto the rooftop. The view from your table was stunning. The sun was meant to be setting in a little less than an hour, so an array of pinks and blues covered the sky.

“A waiter will be with you in just a moment.” She smiled before walking away.

Quinn murmured quickly, “Thank you.” before focusing back on you. He didn’t say a word as he took your hand from across the table and gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes met his blue ones, a smile appearing on your face as he admired your features.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Y/N. You have no idea.” He spoke, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You blushed at his words, “I love you.”

He didn’t get the chance to say it back before a waiter approached your table with a smile.

~✩~

By the time you had finished your food, the sun was practically set, most of the light in the sky coming from scattered stars. You stood up without a word, walking over to the railing.

You always knew Vancouver was a beautiful city, but seeing it at night was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

Colourful lights all over the city, the faint sound of street music being played in the distance. Quinn snuck up behind you, his suit-covered arms wrapping around your waist. You felt a shiver in your spine, unsure if it was because of the cool Canadian air, or the feeling of being so close to your boyfriend.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his stubble poking at your smooth skin. He tilted his head slightly, placing a sweet kiss on the side of your neck, before turning back to continue admiring the night view with you.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, eh? You look lost in thought.” He asked, softly.

You let out a quiet sigh, “Just thinking about you. About everything I would give to stay here with you forever.”

He smiled against your shoulder as you turned your head slightly to look at him. His eyes darted towards your lips before leaning in to connect your lips for the second time that night. You turned around, holding his face in your hands as his stayed gently on your waist.

The moment could not have been more perfect.

He couldn’t be more perfect.

#nhl hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic

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jujuscrolled · 4 days ago

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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: 𝒋𝒂𝒆’𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋆｡˚⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Grab yourself some hot chocolate, a pair of cozy socks and sit with me by the fire as we listen to the best Christmas hits!

Last Christmas

A year after your break up with Suguru, your mutual friend Satoru decided it was the perfect time to bring everyone together, so he begged and pleaded for you to help him decorate for his yearly Satoru’s Spectacular Christmas Spirit Bash (yes, he thought of the name) and for some reason, you agreed. You just hoped you’d manage to leave in time before you do something you might regret.

▷ play now

It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas

Shoko never let Satoru drag her into any of his shenanigans. So why did she find herself in one of the ugliest christmas sweaters she’d ever seen, standing on some poor unsuspecting family’s front porch singing Christmas carols of all things? Well, that’s easy really, it’s because you’re there too - looking mighty adorable sporting the second ugliest christmas sweater in existence right alongside her.

▷ play now

Baby, it’s Cold Outside!

Your best friend Satoru Gojo had a bad habit of hogging you all to himself - especially around the holidays - but he always knew when to share. That being said, despite you telling him about your very important date with the guy from on of your classes, he seemed to be abnormally clingy (which you didn’t even think was possible.) Hopefully your hot date won’t mind the messy hair and rosy cheeks you’d probably show up with…

▷ play now

Santa Baby

Your boyfriend Kento always made sure you had whatever you needed (and some!) So when he asked you to write him a Christmas list - you were at a loss for what to ask for. You already had everything that you could possibly need, so what could possibly be missing? Oh, right, you supposed there was one thing you wanted most…

▷ play now

Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

The Christmas party Higuruma’s law firm would throw to “boost morale” always seemed to have the opposite effect; deflating his coworkers instead of cheering them up. He knew most of them were only attending because they had to but this year seemed different - and it was all because of the pretty little bartender dressed in a ridiculously cute red dress and santa hat.

▷ play now

Silver Bells

Santa’s Workshop was only open for two months out of the year - and they’ve been your favorite two months for the past decade. Seeing the smiley faced, rosy cheeked children accompanied by their equally bright-eyed parents always sparked joy within you, after all, Santa’s Workshop was all things merry. That was at least until your boss decided that hiring Ebeneezer Scrooge to be Santa was a bright idea. But, no need to worry, it was your job to turn frowns upside down after all! All in the name of Christmas spirit, of course!

▷ play now

You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Sukuna doesn’t get the appeal of any holiday but especially not Christmas. In fact, he hates it! Or, at least, he did. Then he stumbled across silly little you; a self proclaimed Christmas connoisseur that came into his nephews life and flipped it upside down. Follow his (mis)fortune as you introduce him and his adorable nephew to the true spirit of Christmas!

▷ play now

All I Want for Christmas Is You!

Both you and Yuta adored all things Christmas so it was no surprise that you and him were paired to decorate Jujutsu High for the upcoming Christmas dinner (courtesy of Satoru Gojo, of course). Now, where the hell did all that mistletoe go?

▷ play now

Mistletoe

After being paired with Yuta and his crush to cover Jujutsu High in Christmas cheer you and Yuji are making it your own personal mission to finally get Yuta and his crush together. Thankfully, with the holidays rolling around, mistletoe is far too easy to come by! Wait, why is it that you two always end up stuck in your own trap?

▷ play now

Winter Wonderland

Nobara and Yuji don’t know where Megumi keeps disappearing to every night after class and the excuses he’s been giving them are starting to get ridiculous (they refuse to believe Megumi is trying out meditation) Their solution? Follow him into town, of course!

▷ play now

Santa Tell Me

Spending the months cleaning up vomit that nervous children would leave you in the most ridiculous places (you could’ve sworn the fake presents didn’t even open) wasn’t your ideal pastime and neither was arguing with the ridiculously cute elf that you always seemed to be paired with for your shifts… Well, maybe the latter wasn’t so bad… Especially not when he would go out of his way to get you your favorite hot chocolate before every shift.

▷ play now

A/n: so super excited to get these out n posted <3 i’ll probably also be posting drabbles for other characters (choso my love im begging for ur forgiveness) in between posting these so please keep an eye out for those as well ! <3 (side note; take a shot every time I mention drinking hot chocolate … wld u believe me if i said it wasn’t my drink of choice…? hehe)

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antiquepearlss · 2 months ago

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Southern Headcanons

Old Corona lowkey gives off southern small town vibes so here’s some southern Varian + Quirin headcanons because I’m not projecting at all.

Starting off strong with a classic- Varian loves sweet tea. He makes it homemade and it’s 90% sugar and it’s most of what he drinks. Quirin isn’t a big fan, but he’ll drink it occasionally when Varian makes it. Same with Lemonade; Varian loves it, Quirin is neutral.

If Quirin isn’t working, he’s relaxing in a rocking chair on his front porch.

Varian is the type of person to watch tornadoes instead of seeking shelter. Quirin has to physically pick him up and drag him to the basement.

There’s a creek in Old Corona that the children all frequent.

Most of Quirin’s diet is biscuits and gravy. It’s the southern old man meal. And southern fried steak. And fried potatoes with gravy. Also coleslaw, and fried green tomatoes, because again, old man.

Varian likes fried chicken and waffles, peach cobbler, pulled pork, chicken and dumplings, and cornbread. He ate coleslaw once and died a little inside.

Neither of them are big fans of catfish or shrimp, they’re just not big on seafood. Ulla was a fan, however.

Neither of them have thick accents, but with certain words it shines through. It also shines through if they talk fast, or for Varian, if he gets really excited. Or it comes out at random moments. Eugene and the girls make fun of him for it, Rapunzel thinks it’s cute, Lance thinks it sounds cool

Quirin has Bible verse decor in his house. He’s not even religious. Those just kind of materialize on your walls the first time you say y’all.

Quirin and Ulla had an apple themed kitchen.

Quirin absolutely has said “bless your heart”

Ulla wore gingham, a lot.

Varian has mason jars. Everywhere. And also reuses those butter containers. He managed to get them to contain acid.

Old Corona has a lot of potholes.

Varian’s favorite place to go as a kid was with his father to Rural King. He loved looking at the machinery and the baby chickens.

Varian knows how to use a riding mower and is quite skilled at it. He tried to teach Eugene (his city kid cousin) and he crashed into a tree.

There is little to nothing to do in Old Corona except for the occasional festival.

Oktoberfest goes hard there.

Quirin isn’t the most social but he does have the southern hospitality down. He’ll invite you in for lemonade or tea. He’ll just, barely talk. (He strikes me as the type to be quiet and awkward in small/intimate settings.) He also brings new neighbors homemade food.

Neither Quirin nor Varian care about sports, but they watch football to feel included. Sometimes they’ll root for opposing teams just for the fun of a playful rivalry with eachother, even though they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Quirin likes old country music. Varian claims to dislike country music, but listens to it sometimes. He never heard the end of it from the girls when they found out he loves Cary Underwood. Ulla had a collection of Dolly Parton vinyl that was passed down to Eugene for….some reason.

Quirin also likes some bluegrass and very much enjoys the blues.

Again, Quirin is not religious, but church on Easter used to be a must. Mostly because it was the only time he and Ulla could get Varian to wear a suit, and he looked adorable in one. (Now all Quirin has to do is ask Rapunzel to make Varian nice clothes and he’ll wear them gladly.)

Ulla planted a lot of magnolias in their garden. And hydrangeas.

Old Corona has a lot of block parties and just, spontaneous potlucks.

If Varian wasn’t with his parents he was probably with the resident Old Person in Old Corona. He didn’t have many friends growing up, but older people loved him.

Quirin watches Andy Griffith.

Old Corona has one gas station and it has the best slushies. Whenever Rapunzel visits they go there.

Eugene kinda hates Old Corona. He’s a city boy. Rapunzel likes the open-ness.

Old Corona is the prettiest in the Fall.

Varian conveniently spills acid on nearby confederate flags.

#I’ll make more of these that are more small town themed and not so southern themed #Old Corona gives Shady Grove #Alabama vibes #tts #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #varian #tts quirin

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xoxoladyaz · 1 year ago

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AU-gust, Day 4: Runaway

My Little Runaway (5+1)

In the aftermath of the “earthquakes” – Wayne doesn’t buy that government bullshit for a second, earthquakes his ass – Hawkins becomes entirely uninhabitable. And said United States government, out of the goodness of its heart, deigns to relocate all of its remaining citizens to one of the nearby towns in Indiana (except for Eddie and his friends that got all mixed up in that bullshit Wayne still doesn’t fully know about; all of them get relocated to Illinois, Wayne included.)

And it's nice, in the immediate aftermath, having all of them around, Jim and Joyce and those kids. They make Eddie come to life in a way that Wayne had worried he’d never see again during those first few days in the hospital. It’s nice having other adults to talk to, who understand the circles under his eyes, who wake up alongside their own kids when they start screaming. Hell, it’s even nice living next to the Harrington’s boy – Steve, who looks just like his father yet couldn’t act more different. Steve, who shepherds around the kids and that girl with the short blonde hair without a complaint.

Steve, who is starting to spend a lot of time in Eddie’s bedroom these days.

So despite the hullaballoo and pain it took to get here, Wayne is grateful that they all live so close, that their houses are all in a row on that sunny suburban block. He’s grateful to have a house, with neighbors that are actually his friends. And he’s grateful that when Steve and Eddie do start dating, when Eddie is all but moved into Steve’s small house next-door, that he’s still close enough to see his kid every day.

(At least, he’s grateful for it at first.)

1. The Lawn Incident

The first time it happens, they aren’t dating yet.

“WAYNE!”

Wayne startles at the sound of Eddie’s shout as he sprints through the front door, screen shutting behind him with a loud bang.

“What? What is it?!”

The government is after them. That kid from Hawkins is there, he’s got a gun. Eddie’s hurt, he’s bleeding, he’s –

“Get me away from him!” Eddie screeches, gesturing at the door he just ran through. Wayne grabs for his rifle (the one he keeps next to the door just in case) and runs forward, expecting to see a mob on his doorstep –

There’s no mob.

There’s no sign of anyone. Just Steve Harrington mowing Claudia Henderson’s lawn across the street, shirtless –

Wayne sets the gun back down by the door and turns to shoot Eddie an unimpressed look.

“What? What?! Didn’t you see that? He’s trying to kill me!” Eddie pants, peering out the window and ducking as Steve turns. He sees Wayne and waves.

“He’s not the one you need to worry about killing you, boy.”

Wayne leaves Eddie to his moaning about the boy’s physique and tan and sweat and heads to the kitchen. (Surely 10 AM isn’t too early for a beer.)

2. The First Date

Wayne’s honestly grateful that the Harrington boy moves faster than his own nephew. If it was up to Eddie, he’d be pining for years. Steve, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to invite him to dinner the next time he saw Eddie after The Lawn Incident. And he has the insight to plan their dinner date for the following day, meaning Eddie only has twenty-four hours to work himself into a tizzy.

(Granted, that’s plenty of time for Eddie to accomplish that, but still.)

Anyways, Wayne has to sit through Eddie parading across the living room in various band shirts of varying quality before Eddie finally decides on the one he’d tried on first (Iron Maiden, and Wayne doesn’t have the heart to tell him that maybe a grinning skeleton isn’t the best idea for a first date but hey, the Harrington boy already knows what he’s getting into), and Eddie’s debating the merits of sneakers versus boots when the doorbell rings.

Eddie spins around so fast to stare at Wayne that Wayne has to stifle his laughter. “He’s here!”

“You gonna get the door then, or are you just gonna let him decorate the porch?”

“Right, right,” Eddie mutters, first to Wayne and then to himself. Throwing his shoulders back, he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the front door. Wayne watches as Eddie nods to himself once, twice, and pulls the door open –

And then just stands there, blinking at the Harrington boy, before slamming the door in his face.

“Eds? Everything okay?”

Eddie whips around and backs up against the door, pale like he’s seen a ghost. He tries to whisper something to Wayne, but Wayne can’t hear it. “Sorry?”

“I said HE BROUGHT ME FLOWERS!”

“Are you gonna let him in and get a vase or – ”

“Huh? Oh, SHIT - ” Eddie turns back around and throws open the door. The Harrington boy is standing there with an amused grin on his face that only grows wider as Eddie starts babbling, snatches the flowers out of his hand and makes a break for the kitchen, leaving Wayne and the kid to look at each other.

“He’s a little excitable,” Wayne finally breaks the silence, and the Harrington boy laughs.

“I know. I like that about him, though.”

Wayne lets himself finally smile at the Harrington kid – Steve. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

3. The GED

“Wayne, you gotta hide me!”

Wayne barely has time to set his coffee down before Eddie is sliding into the living room and diving behind the couch. “Oh? And what’s the emergency today?”

Eddie pokes his head up from behind the chartreuse couch cushion. “Wheeler’s gone crazy, Wayne! Do you know how many flashcards she has?”

“More than a few, I’d hope. Your test is coming up next month.”

“They’re color-coded,” Eddie hisses. The doorbell rings and he dives back down, making a meep sound.

Wayne rolls his eyes and stands up out of his rocking chair. “I guess I’ll get the door.”

“NO NO NO - ”

He opens the door and Steve is standing there, alongside the older Wheeler girl and Steve’s friend Robin. “Wayne,” the Wheeler girl greets him with a tight smile, and then she’s passing him and powerwalking into the living room, Robin at her heels. (And judging by the immediate hollering Wayne hears, she finds Eddie relatively quickly.)

“Evening,” Wayne greets Steve over the din of voices in his living room. “I take it studying’s going well?”

The sound of something breaking cuts Steve off before he has a chance to reply, and Steve shoots a nervous look at Wayne. “It’s, uh, it’s going. I think Nance might have met her match.”

“Mmm,” Wayne hums, and then something else crashes onto the floor and ya know, Wayne didn’t need to watch Bonanza tonight anyways.

“I heard Hopper got some new IPAs from Wisconsin?” Steve offers, wincing as the sound of Eddie and Wheeler arguing meets its crescendo.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

4. The Fight

Wayne’s not expecting there to be any lights on when he gets home from the shop that day; Eddie had said something about an anniversary dinner with Steve, something about six months of dating, so it’s a shock to walk through the door and see Eddie swaddled under a blanket, eating ice cream while watching The Thing.

“Everything okay, son?”

“Of course! I mean, what would I have to be upset about?” Eddie snaps, forcefully digging his spoon into the Chunky Monkey.

“Right,” Wayne says, and then slowly makes his way into his bedroom where he makes a call.

“Eddie, please, I just want to talk - ”

“Sorry, son, it’s just me.”

A choked-up Steve sighs over the phone. “Hey Wayne.”

“Hey, kid. You mind telling me why Eddie’s on a mission to clean out Ben & Jerry’s tonight?”

Steve sniffles. “I asked him to be my boyfriend. Like, officially.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Eddie assumed we already were, which is bullshit because I asked him, like, after our fourth date and he said no, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be ‘Steve Harrington’s Boyfriend’ or whatever but apparently it was a joke and, I mean, it’s not like I’ve been dating anyone else but I just thought - ”

“That he meant what he said, right,” Wayne huffs out a breath. “Let me go talk to him for a bit, okay son?”

“ ‘kay. Thanks, Wayne,” Steve replies quietly, and then he hangs up the phone. Wayne takes a moment to look at the ceiling – Lord, he loves his kid, but this is not what he wanted to be doing on his Friday – but he heads back into the living room anyways and turns off the TV.

“Hey!”

“Son, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what you said to Steve, that’s what.”

Eddie grumbles, stabbing his spoon through the bottom of the ice cream carton. “You’re on his side then?”

“Hey, you’re my kid. I’m always gonna be on your side. But that means sometimes I gotta tell you when you’re in the wrong and right now, son, you’re in the wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back against the couch with a sigh. “It’s just – he should have known!”

“Eds, we both got a bit of that Munson-meanness in us. We both know that sometimes our jokes don’t sound like jokes. How was your boy supposed to know that if you didn’t talk to him about it after the fact? He can’t read your mind, kid.”

“I know, I know, I fucking know!” Eddie scrunched his face up and threw the empty ice cream carton to the side. “It’s my fucking fault and I just – I hate that he thought I was just trying him out for six fucking months, as if I’d actually do something like that to him!”

“Well,” Wayne sighs, “then it sounds like both of you let your own shit get in the way of things. And the only way you can fix it now is if you talk it out.”

“And say what?”

“That it was a stupid joke and that you’re not the sort of person who’d treat anyone that way. And for the record, kid, I think he knows that. He might be gone on you, but he’s not the type of guy who’d stay with someone who treated him badly.”

Eddie bites at his lip for a little bit. “Okay. I’m gonna go talk to Steve.”

“Good,” Wayne nods, and then Eddie is fast-walking to the door –

And he still has Wayne’s blanket.

“Bring that blanket back!”

“Yes, Wayne.”

“And some more Chunky Monkey!”

“Yes, Wayne!”

(Wayne’ll be lucky if he sees either in the next year.)

5. The Game

It’s a perfect fall Sunday; a cool breeze flows in through the open window, Wayne has a cold beer and a new can of peanuts in front of him, and the Colts are starting as receivers for the first playoff game of the season. He has four blissful hours of peace in front of him, just him, his football team, and –

“WAYNE!”

Wayne groans as Eddie slams into the house. “WAYNE, I need – no, no, no, WHY? You’re watching the game too?!”

“It’s the playoffs, son,” Wayne says. Or, rather, he tries to say; a whole stampede of footsteps follow Eddie into the house and suddenly Wayne’s surrounded by his kid, six teenagers, a pre-teen and the Corroded Coffin boys (who were in town for a visit).

“Whatever, he can watch the game Eddie, we just need a table - ”

“ – grab the extra chairs, we can get it set up - ”

“Wait, wait, wait, set up what exactly?” Wayne asks but the teens have scattered, running to all ends of his house to set up something at his dining room table and – ah, yes. Their dragon game.

“Really, son?” Wayne asks as Eddie walks by and snatches a couch pillow. “Can’t you do this at your house?”

“I promised Steve that he could have the house if his team made the finals or whatever - ”

“The playoffs, Ed.”

“ – yeah, that’s what I said, but we need to finish up this campaign before Jeff and Gareth go back to school and - ”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wayne scoops his beer and his peanuts up and heads for the door.

“ – only six hours or so and – hey, where are you going?”

“I’m running away,” Wayne replies drily as he shoots Eddie a final wave. “Steve has a bigger TV anyways.”

Eddie lets out a theatrical gasp, but Wayne is too far away to hear whatever else he has to say.

(Steve does have a bigger TV. And Jim and Charles are fans, too. Maybe they have more of that IPA.)

+1 The Proposal

Wayne’s used to it by now, the sound of his front door slamming shut. It usually signals that Eddie’s in one of his moods, or is excited to share something about the store or Steve or their brand new puppy – Strider, because his kid is a nerd – or because it’s been seventy-two hours and at that point Eddie usually feels the need to make an entrance to check in on Wayne because it’s rare these day that they go three days without at least checking in, but when Wayne goes to check the door, it isn’t Eddie standing there.

It's Steve, and he’s panting.

“Steve? You okay, son?”

‘Yeah, yeah,” he nods, “I just – I don’t know how much longer I can put it off.”

Wayne feels warm all the way in the cockles of his heart. “It’s just ‘til this weekend, son.”

“I know! But Eddie’s so smart,” Steve complains, running his fingers through his hair, “he’s so smart and he knows something’s up and I’m trying not to act weird but because I’m trying not to act weird then he knows that I’m acting weird, and I’m afraid he’s going to pull away again and I just – we just keep having moments where I want to tell him and I keep having to stop myself and I don’t know if I can wait any longer – ”

“Then don’t.”

“ – and I – what?”

Wayne shrugs. “If you don’t want to wait any longer, then don’t.”

Steve looks lost. “But I – I just want this to be perfect. Eddie deserves something perfect.”

“Kid, you are his something perfect,” Wayne replies, and Steve flushes bright red. “You could ask him while he’s on the shitter and it’d be perfect because it’s you.”

“You really think so?” Steve asks shyly. “I mean, not that I’m going to ask him when he’s going to the bathroom - ”

“You probably could do a little better than that,” Wayne agrees, and the two men are laughing when Eddie bursts into the room behind them.

“WHAT is going on here, hmm?” Eddie exclaims.

“Eddie,” Wayne starts, trying to stop whatever monologue is coming but Eddie cuts him off.

“No, Wayne, don’t try to tell me something isn’t going on because something is going on and you,” Eddie says, turning to point at a bright-red Steve, “you are being incredibly suspicious right now and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you keep running every time we’re in the same room because you don’t want to be with me anymore but that can’t possibly be true because I woke up with you - ”

“EDWARD ANTHONY MUNSON,” Wayne interrupts, completely unwilling to hear whatever scandalous thing was going to come out of Eddie’s mouth next, but it turns out he didn’t have to be the one to interrupt Eddie after all because Eddie has stopped talking entirely. He’s just standing in Wayne’s living room and gaping at Steve.

Steve, who is kneeling on Wayne’s shaggy carpet, a black ring box in his hand.

Wayne’s throat tightens up as soon as he sees the tears lining Eddie’s eyes. “Steve?”

“I was going to wait until next weekend,” Steve starts shakily. “I had a whole plan. I was going to take you to Metallica next weekend and wait until they started playing our song - ”

“Nothing Else Matters.”

“ – right, ‘Nothing Else Matters,’” Steve replies, his own eyes swimming but he’s beaming at Eddie, he’s smiling up at Wayne’s son and shit, Wayne’s going to need a handkerchief himself, “and then I was going to slide this ring onto your hand and – I know that we’ve only been together a year, I know it’s really, really fast – ”

Eddie’s half-laughing and half-gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face and collecting in the corners of his smile.

“ – and I know that it’s only for us, really, but being with you – this past year has been the best year of my life and maybe it makes me selfish, but I want the rest of them, too. I want them all with you, Eds. Will you - ” Steve swallows, bracing himself, “would you do me the honor of being my not-at-all-lawfully-wedded husband?”

Eddie nods and gasps and shouts out the word “YES!” and then he’s throwing himself on top of Steve, laughing and crying together and kissing and then Steve is sliding the ring on Eddie’s finger – a small black diamond with a silver band, one that Wayne had helped Steve decide on out of four possible choices – and then they’re kissing again and murmuring words of love into each others’ mouths and the moment is everything Wayne has ever wanted for Eddie but if Eddie keeps kissing Steve like that it is going to quickly become something Wayne doesn’t want to see, so he interrupts.

“Congratulations, sons,” he says, and then Eddie is jumping up and running in Wayne’s arms, laughing and jumping and asking if he knew and if he wants to see the ring and if Wayne knew it would ever be possible for Eddie to be this happy.

“Oh, I knew,” Wayne replies with a sly grin. “Knew it the day you ran away because you saw him mowing Claudia’s lawn shirtless.”

“Hey!”

“Aww, my little runaway,” Steve says, hugging Eddie from behind and pressing a smattering of kisses against his cheek. “Just as long as you let me run away with you from now on.”

“Deal,” Eddie says, turning to smile at Steve and yeah, Wayne can give them a few moments while he digs out the IPAs. (They’re not champagne but hey, they’ll do.)

(And having Steve as a son-in-law? Yeah. That’ll do too.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #wayne munson #steddie fix it fic #steddie fluff #august fanfic challenge

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