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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FIVE

previous chapters | kofi | i'm honestly amazed that i actually completed this chapter today; as a lot of yall know i've been dealing with a lot of shitty life stuff lately and part of me expected this to not even get posted this month. and yet!! here we are. thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and amazing, this chapter is for you and i hope you like it 💖 chapter summary: you're starting to feel a bit insecure about your relationship with joel. perhaps a late night visit to his house is what you need 👀 rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, handjobs, comeplay word count: 9k (woops) ao3

The rest of the week goes by gruelingly slow. Joel is busy every day and has barely any time to talk, so you mainly communicate through texts. The "conversations" are slow and broken, Joel only able to text when he has a free moment, which doesn't seem to be very often. You don't talk on the phone again, as much as you want to hear his voice, and you don't sext again either. It's a bit weird, a bit confusing, but you navigate it as best you can. It's not like he's ignoring you, he always responds, but it's just not the same as that first day.

you still wanna do this, right?

You type it around midnight on Thursday, hands trembling a bit as you hover over the send button. In one way you're afraid to ask him, afraid to seem clingy or young or inexperienced; but you're all of those things. When he's actually talking to you directly there's no fear, no question about what he wants, but going so long without hearing his voice makes you more and more insecure about what exactly he's thinking.

You erase the first message and start to type another one:

i know you're busy but

You shake your head and erase that one too. This is so stupid. Of course he still wants you, you idiot.

He'd said he was okay with the lie you'd told, had even said he would actually teach you guitar now too, but you're an overthinker, always have been. You can't help but feel dread whirling around in the pit of your stomach; he wants to end it, it's too complicated now. You've turned something sexy and fun into something ridiculous and unnecessary.

You lock your phone without sending anything and roll around in bed a bit, trying to sleep. Your thoughts make it impossible though, nagging at the front of your mind worse than your parents. You sit up and slide the tip of your thumb into your mouth, biting down in thought and staring at the blank screen of your phone.

What if you just...

are you home?

He hadn't sent you anything earlier to confirm he'd gotten back; you've discovered over the past few days that contractors really like to drink after their shift. Joel's been at the bar every night since that first day, often 'til late; you have to admit, it makes you a bit jealous to imagine Joel and his contracting crew out having a great time while you're laying in your childhood bed with a curfew. Bar hopping and partying has never appealed to you before, at least not when your college friends did it, but now the thought of it doesn't seem so bad. Not if you were doing it with him...

Your phone buzzes and you feel excitement burst through you at his reply:

Got in about 10 minutes ago, didn't think you'd be up. You okay?

You soften at his concern, cheeks warming. You don't hesitate, knowing if you think too much about it you'll end up changing your mind. You type your your response and hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

can i come over?

You stare at the screen with bated breath, watching as his typing bubble appears. It takes barely any time at all for him to reply:

Of course you can. Door's unlocked.

Sneaking out of your house is much easier than you thought it'd be. You've never done it before, had almost expected the bottom half of your house to suddenly have some kind of security system with lasers and cameras, but nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You're wearing one of your old nightdresses, pink and frilly; you'd opted to start wearing them again the other day, liking the way they made you feel, accentuating your legs and breasts like your old Sunday school dress. You'd changed quickly every morning before going downstairs to save your parents from the heart attacks they'd have seeing you with so little skin coverage. But there's no need to change now, not with where you're going. You yank on a jacket and sneakers and carefully open and close the front door, scurrying out into the cool night air.

Joel's house isn't far, just a street over. You try not to run, as much as you want to; you know you'll end up all sweaty and messy haired - the opposite of how you'd like to portray yourself tonight, but your skin is practically glowing with anticipation. You hold the short hem of your nightdress down as you speed walk through the dark suburban streets of your neighborhood.

Your heart starts pounding when his house comes into view; the living room window is dimly lit. You jog up the front steps and take a deep breath before turning the handle, smiling to yourself when it opens easily; he'd really left the door unlocked for you.

"Mr. Miller?" you call in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and turning the lock.

He emerges from the living room and you feel your eyes widen. All he's wearing is a pair of loose fitting plaid pajama pants; nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and probably no underwear. You swallow, eyes trailing up and down the naked solidness of his chest, the greying hair smattered along the skin. He's got a softness to him, a bit of a pudgy belly that makes you want to smile, but his rugged sexiness is even more apparent. His strong pecs, freckled arms, the hair trailing down his stomach and into his pajama pants... it suddenly leaves you unable to breathe or form a coherent thought.

"There's my girl," he says, voice low and husky; he must have talked a lot today, called people's names, ordered them around, "C'mere."

Your brain is still muddled and awestruck as you feel yourself rush forward, arms immediately wrapping around his bare torso. His skin is softer than you'd thought it'd be, warm under your touch as you carefully press your cheek to his chest. You feel the scratch of hair against your skin, reminding you of his age; fifty six. The thought gives you an ache between your legs.

He holds you close and rubs your back, presses a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, fingers splaying across the wide span of his back. You find yourself able to breathe again, but all you inhale is his scent, fresh and masculine. It's then that you realize his skin is slightly damp, peppered here and there with little droplets of water.

"I just got out of the shower," he says quietly, answering your unspoken question, "Was about to get in bed when you texted but I figured if you were comin' over I should clean myself up a bit."

You hum against his chest, still not sure exactly what to say. The ache between your legs is growing stronger the more you stand here in his embrace; somehow you hadn't expected to feel this way just from hugging him, although you probably should have guessed.

"I wanna get in your bed," you say softly, opening your eyes again and pulling back to look at him. His expression says it all, eyes going dark as they fall to your lips.

"Then let's get in my bed," he murmurs, just as quiet.

The last time you were in Joel's bedroom there'd been more of a sense of urgency, when he'd sat with you in his lap on the edge of his bed and held you open in front of the mirror. Now things are much slower, more quiet. You slip in behind him and unzip your jacket, taking it off and hanging it carefully on the hook behind his door.

"That's pretty," he says behind you, and you feel him reach out to gently touch the pink material, hand ghosting the bare skin of your chest. Your breath hitches and he smiles, "Tiny little thing, isn't it?"

"I've had it for a long time, I thought you might like it."

"I do," he pulls you toward him, then reaches his hands up to thumb the thin straps of the nightdress. You watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pushes them off your shoulders, "I'm gonna take it off though, that okay?"

Your brow furrows; he notices your reaction and his hands freeze, "Not okay?" he asks, confused slightly.

"N-no, it's okay," you say quickly, "I just... I'm still a little self conscious."

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head, "You have nothin' to be self conscious about, sweetheart," he reassures you, "I wanna see you..." he pushes the straps down your shoulders and you stand there trembling slightly as he pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to him, "There you are."

You shiver a bit under his gaze, but not out of discomfort or fear. You feel safe with him; you know he'd never do anything you didn't consent to. You're just not exactly sure what you want, what exactly you've really come here for. Before you'd left the house you'd been so afraid that he was losing interest, already getting tired of you; now he stares at you like you're some kind of rare gem, making you feel bashful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I wanna touch you," you whisper, the shakiness of your voice betraying your nervousness - or anticipation.

His hands freeze for a few seconds but he regains composure quickly, tugging the dress down further until it's cascading down your legs, putting you completely on display. He swallows audibly, taking you in. You look at his face and feel yourself pulse under his gaze, the way he's staring directly at your bare pussy.

"Let's get in bed," he murmurs, "I think there's a few things we can touch."

His words send a buzzing warmth through your body and you cross your legs unconsciously, an action that makes him smirk. You turn away from him with heat flooding your cheeks as you climb into his bed; it's large and comfortable, but you already know neither of you will be taking advantage of the big space. You sit up against his headboard and pull the duvet up over yourself, hiding your breasts from view - as if he hasn't already seen them.

"I'll keep these on" he says softly, tugging at the band of his pajama pants, "Don't worry."

Your heart leaps to your throat and you nod quickly - probably too quickly. It's not that you're scared to see him naked; you've already seen both halves now and that's taken away a lot of the fear, but the concept of being in bed together, both naked... you're not sure you're ready yet. And you're glad he understands that without you having to say it out loud.

You watch as he climbs into bed and positions himself up against the headboard like you, scooches in next to you so your sides are touching. His skin against yours is unlike anything you've felt with him up until this point; he's so warm, a firm and large presence at your side that immediately has you feeling intimidated. Your nerves are already beginning to set alight just by having him so close. You open your mouth to speak but are unable to say anything when he inches even closer, his bare waist pressing firmly against yours.

"Hey, you're okay," he breathes, reaching up to gently thumb your cheek in a calming motion, brow furrowing slightly, "You don't gotta be nervous, sweetheart, it's only me."

"I'm not nervous," you whisper back, and while you're not exactly being honest there's certainly something else you're feeling, "I'm just..." you cross your legs again under the duvet, "I'm getting really wet."

He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat that makes you smile a little, cheeks burning under his gaze. He reaches over and slowly pushes the blankets down from your loose grip, exposing you to him once again. He moves his hand down, fingertips trailing along your bare chest until carefully bringing one of your breasts into his palm and squeezing gently.

"You don't gotta hide these from me, darlin'," he murmurs, thumb dragging across your nipple, sending tingles throughout your body, "They're too pretty to stay outta sight."

You shiver when he carefully tweaks your nipple between his fingers, his gaze firmly set on his movements. You watch together as he plays with it, toys with it, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. The warm and tight feeling sends an odd tingling sensation from your breast to your pussy, like they're connected somehow.

"I'm gonna put this in my mouth," he says softly, "Suck on it a little bit, that okay?"

You can't help but feel a bit unsure, biting your lip, "Is that... does it feel good to do that?"

He nods up at you, thumbing your nipple again slowly, "Feels really good, I promise. You got a lot of nerves here, just like your pussy. Really sensitive."

Your eyes are hazy as you nod to him slowly, "Th-that sounds nice."

At your words he leans his head down and brings your nipple into his mouth, dropping his fingers and replacing his thumb with the warm suction of his lips. You gasp out in surprise, hand coming up to immediately cup the back of his head.

You've never felt anything like this; the suction of his mouth is so new and strange, that tingling sensation returning as you cross your legs tighter and whimper aloud as he sucks your nipple. His tongue is wet and warm, tracing the shape of you in little circles, while his free hand comes up to squeeze your other breast, tweak it with his fingers. Your breath begins to come out raggedly, brow furrowing and legs tightening together as he suckles.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself whimper, hand tightening in his hair, "Why does that feel so good?"

He pulls off your nipple with a quiet laugh, peering up at you, "Yeah, you like the way that feels, babygirl?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and trying to get your breath back, "Yes," you whisper, "A lot."

He smiles at that, "Then how 'bout you lay back for me?"

It's an offer that's impossible to refuse. You quickly pull yourself down from the headboard and slip beneath the covers, head coming to rest on one of his pillows. He slips under as well, then very slowly positions himself on top of you, a leg on either side of your trembling form. You look up at him with wide eyes, unsure whether you're more nervous or excited.

"You're okay," he reassures you again, inching downward a bit and pressing a few gentle kisses to your neck, "Gotta be on top to do this right, so it feels good."

You nod slowly, "I c-can feel..."

"What?" he whispers, "What do you feel?"

Your arms are loose at your sides and Joel's are pinned above you, but there's an unmistakable feeling of something prodding into your thigh, large and thick.

"Your cock," you manage to whisper, voice trembling, "I think."

"That's right," he murmurs, "It's 'cause I'm gettin' hard from suckin' you like that, touchin' you," he trails his fingers down your sides gently, making you shiver, "You like feelin' it there?"

You feel yourself slowly nodding, eyes going even more hazy and hooded, "I wanna touch it."

"I know you do," he whispers, "I want you to touch it too, sweetheart. But I'm gonna play with you a little longer," he leans his face down and licks a small stripe against your other nipple, making your hips buck, "Then I'll teach you how to touch it, that alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, "Please."

"You like when I play with you, don't you?" he murmurs against your breast, then captures your other nipple in his mouth and starts to suck.

"Y-yes," you repeat, hand coming up again to tangle in his hair, already overwhelmed by the sensation, "I missed it."

He hums, sending another cascade of tingles throughout your body. To think that less than half an hour ago you were laying in bed wondering if he still wanted you; now you're naked and he's on top of you with his mouth on your breast. How is this your life?

"What did'ya miss?" he pulls off for barely a few seconds, scruff scratching perfectly against your sensitive skin, "Tell me, babygirl, wanna know what you've been thinkin' about."

You whimper when he goes back to suckling, your fingers threading through his greying curls. It's hard to get your thoughts straight when he's making you feel like this, every tight suck and wet lick going directly to your aching core.

"J-just missed you touching me," you breathe, voice rough and wanton with pleasure, "Missed your hands on me, your fingers..."

At your words he carefully brings one of his hands downward, caressing your body gently as he goes. Your breath hitches when he swipes his middle and index finger down your wet seam, urging you to open up for him. You uncross your trembling legs, looking down to watch as he continues to suck on your breast while his fingers dip down to your wetness.

"Inside," you whisper, finishing your thought but almost giving him a command at the same time; he doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing both fingers past your entrance and slipping them inside your throbbing hole, "Fuck," you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, "Like that."

You can feel the head of his cock through his pajama pants, pulsing against your thigh, leaving a sticky spot in the fabric. The fact that he's getting hard just by doing this to you, getting wet in his own way, it just turns you on even more.

He pulls off your breast with a wet pop and tilts his head up to look at you, pressing little kisses around your nipple and then pulling himself up a bit to hover over you. You feel his clothed cock prod your lower belly and you shiver again.

"Wanted to be full again, huh?" he murmurs, eyes dark, "Missed havin' these big fingers inside you?"

You nod and tug at his curls, urging him to lean his face down toward you. He takes the hint immediately, smirking a bit before reaching down to press his lips to yours and kiss you hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, contentment and arousal flooding through you as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moves from his hair to cup his jaw, loving the feeling of his beard beneath your fingers.

"Wanna know what I missed?" he asks against your lips, voice deep and breathy, "Missed this tiny little hole, so tight, all for me," at his words he curls the tips of his fingers inside of you, making you emit a loud whimper that makes him grin, "That's right, takin' my fingers so well, angel. Bet you could take three now," you feel another one of his fingers prod you alongside his others, "You want that, babygirl? Want three of those big fingers?"

You swallow nervously but slowly nod, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "Wanna be full."

"Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You hear the sounds you're making but you're not quite sure where they're coming from or how you're making them; you sound pathetic and breathless as he fucks you with his fingers, teases the third at your hole and leans down to kiss you again. His tongue slips past your lips and you feel the vibration of your own moans in his mouth when his thumb gently teases your clit.

"There you go, angel," he mutters against your lips as his third finger breaches your entrance, slowly pushes past the other two, "Thaaat's it, babygirl."

You tremble underneath him, feeling your body tense up at the new intrusion. You've had three of your own fingers inside yourself, but not three of his, long and thick and so much bigger than your own. You hear your whimpers turn into cries as his fingers fill you up, your own hands coming up to grip his back, nails digging into the skin.

"Shhh," he soothes, trailing more kisses along your face in an attempt to relax you, "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." And you are okay, being underneath him like this, being entirely at his mercy as he pushes your limits, helps you discover something new. It burns a bit, stretches and pulls and stings, but he talks you through it, whispers reassuring words in your ear, and you know you're safe.

He stills once all three fingers are deep inside, then pulls himself up a bit to look at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear and peering down with a soft expression despite the depraved circumstances.

"How's that feel?" he whispers, voice gentle and soothing, "Tell me."

You're still making whimpering noises, shaky and quiet, but you're able to reply with the only word you can bring to the front of your mind: "Full."

He smiles down at you, brushes his nose against yours, "You did so good, angel," he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours, "I'm prouda you."

He knows what he's doing with that phrase; immediately you feel yourself loosen beneath him, hands going slightly limp against his back. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and slowly begins to move his fingers again, pumping them in and out at an even pace.

It's amazing. It's so different than just two fingers, so much bigger and fuller - you've never felt anything like it; something so dirty but somehow passionate and warm. He kisses you as he fucks you with them, hovering over you with his hot skin emanating onto yours, wisps of hair from his chest and stomach tickling you everywhere. He thumbs your clit again and you moan loudly against his lips, your orgasm swelling in your belly as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

"You gonna come, angel?" he asks you softly, sweetly, pulling back a bit to stare deeply into your wide eyes, "Yeah, you're gonna come on those big fingers, huh? Can feel your pussy gettin' all tight around me, she wants it so bad doesn't she?"

You moan even louder as you frantically nod, "Yes, gonna come, gonna come," you cry out, overwhelmed by the thickness of his fingers and the way he's looking at you, the way he's talking to you; everything is just him.

"That's right, give it to me, sweet girl," he urges you, plunging into you faster and faster as his thumb rotates mercilessly against your clit, "Make a mess for me, soak those fingers, there you go."

You keen, high and borderline ridiculous as you stiffen beneath him and begin to shake, pitiful sounds escaping your mouth as you come. He fucks you through it, watching your face every step of the way and not stopping his movements until you've come down completely. You lay beneath him, chest heaving and eyes closing involuntarily as he strokes your thigh tenderly, reassuringly. He keeps his fingers lodged deep inside of you, not moving but simply keeping you full as you come down from your orgasm; you find yourself hoping he doesn't pull them out just yet.

"Can I show you somethin'?" he asks softly, and you open your eyes to find him still peering down at your face. You can't speak, can only nod as you bite down on your lip and try to catch your breath, your entire brain focused solely on the way his fingers feel inside you. As if he can read your mind, he's suddenly pulling them out and bringing them up to hover between the two of you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, suddenly feeling beyond empty as you pout up at him. He just chuckles to himself, still holding his three fingers - wet and glistening - in front of you while his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his pajama pants. Your eyes go wide, lips parting a bit as you look from his face to where his hand is and back again.

Without words from either of you, he slowly reaches inside and pulls out his cock, thick and dripping. You make a weird sound in the back of your throat, sitting up slightly as you peer at it with wonder. He's showed it to you before, it's nothing new, and yet...

"That's about the same width, wouldn't you say?" he asks you quietly, bringing his dripping fingers down to his hard cock and aligning them side by side; he's right - the thickness of all three of his fingers is relatively similar to the thickness of his cock. There's certainly different aspects - the length being the main difference - but the overall width is pretty spot on.

"Y-yeah," you say softly, eyes glued to it, "Pretty close."

You watch as he carefully drags his fingers along the thick length of his cock, still soaked with your release. He spreads your juices along it with his thumb and fingers, fists it gently and very slowly fucks his fist once. Your eyes are hooded and dark, saliva beginning to pool inside your mouth for reasons you can't even begin to understand.

"You just took three fingers," he continues, thumb tracing the base of his wide tip, "So wouldn't you say that answers a question you've been worryin' your pretty little head about?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, trying to figure out what he means. It's hard to focus on absolutely anything else when his dick is right there in front of you, practically begging to be touched, the fat head pulsing and drooling under your gaze.

"Oh, this is gonna be a problem, isn't it?" he says, amused as he continues to slowly stroke himself, "Can't even think when there's a cock in front of you, huh?"

The words snap you back to reality, but only slightly. You smile sheepishly as you will yourself to look up at his face and away from his dick, "Wh-what question, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles, "You were afraid it wouldn't fit inside you, babygirl," he reminds you gently, "But it will, we just proved that."

Your brain slowly makes sense of what he's saying and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you; he's right. It had burned a bit, been uncomfortable for a moment or two, but ultimately you'd been able to take all three and enjoy it. You feel a smile spread across your face, and you notice his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you.

"You're right," you say breathlessly, smile still wide, "I did it, didn't I?"

His expression softens even more and he smiles back at you, laughing quietly to himself. He opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think better of it, pulling one of his legs back and moving to sit beside you on the bed instead of over you. Your brow furrows a bit in confusion.

"What is it?"

He just shakes his head, still smiling softly to himself, "Nothin', you're just... you're adorable."

Your cheeks warm at that, unable to help feeling a little self conscious. Now that you've come down from your orgasm you're suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, of the fact that he can see every inch of your body. You draw the covers up around yourself quickly, hoping he won't mind.

"Such a shy little thing," he murmurs softly, but makes no move to pull the blankets down again like he had before, just watches you with a smile as your gaze slowly falls back to where he's hard and aching.

"Can I...?" you can't bring yourself to say the words, feeling flustered and nervous at the very thought. He just nods and reaches over to touch your hand, strokes your trembling fingers in his grip.

You watch as he carefully maneuvers your hand toward his crotch and slowly places your hand on his cock. Your fingers curl around his girth almost instinctively, imitating what you've seen him do before. Your lips part, breath hitching as your skin touches his most intimate area, a place on a man you never thought you'd ever be able to feel, at least not until you were married.

It's soft. Not in terms of arousal but just in texture, a silky and smooth feeling you hadn't been expecting. You stare down at your own hand in slight awe as your thumb gently strokes along his shaft, brow furrowing at how different it is than what you'd imagined. It's surprisingly just a body part, just an extension of Joel that usually remains hidden and secret; it's not as scary or intimidating when you can touch it like this, play with it like he plays with you.

"Wow," you say softly, barely aware of it as your fist ever so slowly moves along his length, pumps him just once in that hypnotic way he'd showed you; he's still covered in your own release, wet and slippery, but somehow you don't feel grossed out by it.

"You're a natural," he replies just as quietly, and your skin heats again when you look up to see his face, see the desire and pleasure in his expression, "Don't think there's much I need to teach you, to be honest. My parts are a lot simpler than yours."

You smile to yourself and pump him slowly again, this time brushing against the wet and throbbing tip. He makes a faint grunting sound that makes your eyebrows go up.

"This part..." you say quietly, thumbing the head ever so slightly and feeling your heart race when it pulses beneath you, "It feels different?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, biting down on his lip for a moment, "That part's sensitive, kinda like your clit."

You nod slowly, pushing your thumb up a bit and slowly rotating it along the sensitive area. He inhales sharply, grunts again when you prod the spongey head with both your thumb and index finger, teasing it like he'd done with your nipple.

"Fuck," he mutters softly, voice heavy and breathless, "That's it, angel, you got it."

His praise is like a warm blanket, shrouding you in safety and comfort as you slowly pump his cock again, teasing the head intermittently and trying not to smile too much every time he makes another one of those breathy grunting sounds. You feel pride swelling in your chest, the knowledge that you're actually making him feel good pushing you to continue on.

"What about these?" you ask softly, stilling your hand on his cock for a moment to gesture toward his balls, round and heavy beneath the base, "Does it....do they feel good when they get touched, too?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice dark and full of arousal, "They do."

"Can I touch them?"

The sound that emits from his throat sounds almost like a growl, low and husky, "Yes," he groans, "Go ahead and touch 'em, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice is slightly desperate, bordering on depraved. Your eyes travel back up to his face and his jaw is slack, eyes hooded as he watches you touch him. You've never seen him like this, almost completely wrecked by something you did.

"Gotta be real gentle," he continues, taking a breath through his nostrils and reaching down to pull his pajama pants down a bit more for easier access, "They're sensitive too."

You resume your slow pumping of his cock with one hand while your other reaches down to lightly trail the tips of your fingers along the shape of his balls, round and tender. You cup them gently, teasing them one by one in your palm. He hisses in pleasure, eyes shutting tightly as he leans back a bit against the headboard.

"Feel good?" you whisper, trying your best to fall into the role Joel usually takes on, the role of the person giving the pleasure.

"Yes, baby," he groans, pressing the backs of his hands against his shut eyes, "Yes, feels so good, sweetheart."

Your pumping gets a bit faster, a bit wetter as precum continues to drool from the tip and down his shaft. It's unbelievable that you're really sitting here in a man's bed, a man about thirty years older than you, pumping his cock and making him come apart like this. You can feel yourself throbbing beneath the blankets, getting wet all over again at the reality of the situation, and when your movements cause the blankets to fall from your chest and expose your breasts again, you don't bother trying to cover up.

Joel groans at the sight, reaching over to tweak one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper, "You know what happens when a man comes?" he asks you suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure, "You learn about that in school?"

You nod quickly, feeling sweat trickle down your face as you continue to stroke him up and down, "Yes," you whisper, "I know what happens."

He groans again, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath as he begins to palm your breasts, "I'm about to come, darlin'. There's gonna be a lot, need to know where to aim it."

You bite down on your lip, trying to keep all your focus on making him feel good and not on the hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples. "Wh-where do you want it to go?" But you already know the answer.

"Here," he grunts, thumbing your hard nipples, "These. Wanna come all over these pretty tits, sweetheart, will you let me?"

You nod, "Y-yes, Mr. Miller."

It's everything he needs to suddenly pull himself up from the bed and pull your hands off him, gesturing for you to lie back against his pillows. Your heart races in anticipation, eyes going wide and lips parting again as he leans over you and starts to jack his cock, fast and unrelenting. This is what he'd done the other night, when you'd talked on the phone; you'd tried to imagine what he'd looked like, making his own mess... now you're about to find out.

"Stay just like that, babygirl, just like that," he grunts out, pumping himself over and over as he aims the tip toward your bare breasts, swollen from all the attention he's given them tonight. His expression is tense and so is his body, soft stomach suddenly taut with pressure, chest heaving as he works his hand. He looks almost pained, brows scrunched together as he pulls himself over the edge.

"Come," you find yourself saying quietly, a shaky whimper playing at the edge of your voice, "Come for me."

Within seconds of your words your skin is hit with long ropes of a warm, white liquid, splattering across your breasts in uneven patterns. You watch with hooded eyes as Joel slows his strokes, groans louder than he has all night as his release spurts continuously from the head of his cock, painting you all over. His tense expression eases into one of pure bliss as he tosses his head back again, moaning up at the ceiling.

Wow.

Without asking for permission, without even questioning whether it's proper sex etiquette to do so, you find your hand travelling quickly downward to your wet pussy. You frantically begin to rub your clit, still gazing up at Joel's pleasured form, feeling his come slipping down the sides of your breasts onto the sheets below. You throb and pulse beneath your fingers, whining softly to yourself as your body readies itself for your second orgasm.

Joel looks down at you then, cock still in hand, slowly beginning to soften. He sees what you're doing immediately, and the devilish smirk that crosses his face is enough to send you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck," you moan out as you come, trembling in the sheets and curling your toes in pleasure, "Mmmm," you squirm and writhe beneath his gaze until it's over, then lay still and loose on the bed with barely any thoughts floating through your mind.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to collect yourselves. You can't help but look down at your chest, see the thick patches of come splattered all over your breasts, your nipples. How all of that could come from one person is wild to you; this certainly hadn't been taught in any of your health classes.

The memory of being so naïve, so innocent... it makes you grin. Because you couldn't be further from that person anymore, the one who did everything that was asked of her, never listened to her own heart, stayed on the sidelines and focused on math and extracurriculars and God while other people had these experiences. And now here you are - actually having them.

"I guess I'm not a good little Christian girl anymore," you find yourself saying with a shaky giggle; you suddenly feel reinvigorated, sexually liberated... free.

Joel laughs at that, breathless and genuine. He grins down at you, releases his cock and shuffles downward to lay beside you, "You're my good little Christian girl," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cradle your face, "You did so good."

"Did I?" you ask sincerely, "Be honest, I wanna know."

He just smiles and thumbs your cheek, eyes going crinkly, "You were perfect, babygirl, I swear." He leans forward and kisses you gently, sweetly, like you both didn't just do something completely filthy and depraved - but you're starting to realize that maybe it's normal to do things like this, not as taboo and sinful as you'd always thought.

When you part, you're suddenly painfully aware of the state of the bed, not to mention both of your bodies. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat, you've got come dripping down your skin, and both fluids are already beginning to stain the bedsheets. You make a face.

"Can we...can we change the sheets? And can I maybe take a shower?"

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your cheek one last time before pulling back to extricate himself from the bed, "I'll change 'em, sweetheart. You go get in the shower, it's right across the hall."

You slip out of bed on shaky legs, losing your balance a bit and having to grab on to Joel's bed side table for support. You both laugh, and you find comfort in the casual intimacy of it all - both of you standing there naked without any shame or embarrassment. It's strange and new but so refreshing, that familiar safe feeling warming your skin as you make your way to the bathroom. You pick up your discarded nightdress as you go.

You stare at yourself in Joel's bathroom mirror for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide as they trail up and down your bare form. Splotches cover different parts of your skin, especially your breasts, nipples swollen and dark, not to mention covered in come. You feel an ache between your legs again at the sight and almost roll your eyes at yourself - when will you stop being this insatiable?

Unable to push down the urge to do so, you carefully drag one of your fingers through the layer of white splattered across your chest, fascinated by its sticky texture. He'd marked you, in more ways than one.

The shower is pleasant and relatively quick; you want to get back in Joel's arms as soon as possible. You try not to think too much about the implication of that desire, the safety you feel when you're with him versus the anxiety you feel when you're not and what exactly that means. You try to remind yourself of your roommates and their experiences, their ability to sleep around without catching feelings or getting attached. How do they do it? How do they do it when being close to another person like this is so intimate and special?

You change back into the nightdress after your shower and slip back into Joel's room, finding him laying in the freshly made bed beneath a new duvet. For a moment you think he might be sleeping, quietly shutting the door behind you and tiptoeing over to the bed. However when you get close enough he opens his eyes and looks at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," he murmurs, reaching down to pull back the blankets on the other side - your side, "Get on in."

Your heart pounds harder than it probably should.

Climbing into bed beside Joel feels surprisingly normal, easy. You wriggle underneath the duvet and cuddle in beside him, immediately wrapping an arm around his solid form and nuzzling your head against his shoulder. He's wearing his pajama pants again but his torso is still bare, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline and you can't help but smile.

"I'm glad I came over," you whisper with a content sigh, "I was... I was starting to worry you didn't want me."

"Really?" he asks softly, brow furrowing, "Why's that?"

You shake your head and nuzzle in deeper, "Just me being self conscious and insecure, as usual."

His hand comes up to rub your back soothingly, circling it with his palm through your thin nightdress. He pulls you in a bit closer, kisses your forehead again with a bit more firmness.

"It's normal to feel that way," he murmurs against your skin, "But I do want you, babygirl. You're all I think about lately, I mean that." You shiver at his words, closing your eyes and willing yourself to believe that he really does mean them like he says. "Most beautiful little thing I've had in my bed for a long time."

You press a gentle kiss to his collarbone in response, nose trailing along the skin. He didn't shower but you're sort of glad he didn't; he still smells like sex, a deep masculine musk that you can only attribute to him now, a scent that makes you feel safe.

"I just feel bad...making us sneak around and all that," you admit, "I know it's childish and silly, but I'm so scared of disappointing my parents. I shouldn't be but I am."

"You're young," he says softly, tenderly, "That kinda stuff still matters, especially when you're livin' with them. I get it, honey. You don't have to defend yourself."

You grimace against his skin, "I just wish this could be more normal. That you could just be a guy I'm seeing instead of my guitar teacher," you shake your head, "It's not fair."

He pulls you in even closer with a soft chuckle, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm lookin' forward to teachin' you how to play."

You make a face, "Hymns," you say with a roll of your eyes, "You're teaching me how to play hymns. I don't see anything exciting or sexy about that."

"We'll make it sexy," he murmurs, inching his face downward so it's more level with yours, eyes casting down to your lips, "Thought you were my good little Christian girl."

All thoughts suddenly seem arbitrary when he's looking at you like that, your gaze immediately going hazy as he leans in and kisses you deep, pushes his tongue inside your mouth softly and tastes you. You hum against his mouth as a response, thighs tightening together as if on instinct the second you feel yourself begin to throb again.

"Are you?" he asks huskily when he pulls away, eyes dark but tired, "Are you my good little Christian girl, baby?"

You nod, swallowing down your arousal, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

"You gonna let me touch you while I teach you guitar?"

You nod again, biting back a whimper, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

His eyes dart back down to your lips, hand on your back traveling downward to cup your bare ass beneath the nightdress, "You gonna let me fuck that soft little pussy while you play one of your hymns?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller," you repeat, leaning forward to bury your face in his warm skin and inhale him again, moan softly against the hair on his chest, "Yes."

He squeezes your ass for a moment and then brings his hand back up, pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you tightly, "See, babygirl?" he whispers, "Told you we'll make it sexy."

Joel's alarm wakes you around six, rousing you from one of the best sleeps of your life. You open your eyes groggily, feeling him lean over you in bed to turn it off, warm chest brushing your arm. You roll over in bed and cuddle into him again, humming sleepily to yourself when he pulls you in close.

"I gotta get ready for work," he murmurs gently into your hair, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

You frown sleepily but don't have the energy to protest, eyes closing again as you melt back into his pillow. You feel him release you from his embrace and press a kiss to your forehead, a simple reminder that this isn't some dream you're having, it's somehow reality. You smile and fall asleep again within seconds.

He wakes you up again after about half an hour, seats himself on the edge of his bed and strokes your hair. You peer up at him with a sleepy and satisfied expression, unable to stop the words that fall immediately from your lips:

"Kiss me."

He doesn't need convincing, still thumbing your hair behind your ear as he leans down and kisses you softly, bumps your nose against his and lets your tongue lazily explore his mouth, tasting mouthwash. You sigh contentedly, pulling back to smile at him while he strokes your cheek.

"Sleep good?" he asks you softly.

You nod, remembering the closeness the two of you had shared all night, the soft hugs and tender cuddles, the quiet intimacy you've never experienced with anyone else. "Amazing," you whisper.

He kisses you again before you get out of bed, then takes your hand as he leads you downstairs. You grab your jacket on the way out of his bedroom, still hanging on the back of his door. You look down at yourself as you both reach the top of the stairs, realizing there's no way you'll be able to walk home in an outfit like this without certainly being accosted by a nosy neighbor.

You push down your worry when you reach the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face when you see that the kitchen table is set with breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You made me breakfast?" you ask in awe, looking from the food to Joel and back again.

He laughs, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, "I did," he says with a smile, "And as much as I'd love for us to just sit and enjoy it," he looks down at his watch with a grimace as he takes a sip of coffee, "we have about ten minutes before I gotta drive you home and then get to work."

You sit down at the table, picking up your fork and immediately digging into the eggs, "You're gonna drive me home?"

He seats himself across from you, watching you enjoy what he'd cooked with a fond smile, "Can't have you walkin' home in that tiny little thing, can I?" he says teasingly, "Your parents would wring my neck."

You groan, "Oh god, please don't even joke about that. If they knew..."

He just chuckles and starts to eat, looking up every now and then to give you one of those crinkly-eyed crooked smiles that makes you weak. You smile through mouthfuls of food and feel your skin alight every time you feel his gaze on you.

"I don't usually eat this fast, I promise," you say through a mouthful of bacon, covering your mouth, "It's only 'cause we're on a time crunch."

He shakes his head, still smiling, "You're so damn cute."

You try your hardest not to reach across the table and pull him toward you for a kiss.

The drive from his house to yours is extremely short, no less than two minutes. Still, you enjoy the short time you spend in his truck, his big hand spread out on your bare thigh while he hums along to a tune on the radio and gives you soft little sideways glances that makes your heart flutter. You can't help but feel like someone else when you're with him, someone more carefree and outgoing, happier and more experienced. It's only when you slowly near your house that you realize maybe this person is who you really are.

"Stop here," you tell Joel with a grimace, still a few houses away, "My parents are still home."

"How're you gonna get in?" he asks with an edge of concern to his voice, eyeing your house, "Think you can climb the fence?"

You bite your lip, "Probably. I've never done it before but I don't have much choice," you lean your head against the backrest in irritation, "God, why did I choose now to rebel? I coulda learned how to do all this shit when I was a kid if I hadn't been so obsessed with being perfect."

He gives you a sympathetic look, thumb stroking your thigh reassuringly, "I'll stay right here 'til you're inside."

You yearn to lean over the small space between you and kiss him, but you know there's always a risk of a neighbor coming out of their house and seeing you. Instead, you place your hand atop the one on your thigh and squeeze his fingers gently, giving him a small smile.

"I had a really nice night," you say quietly, unsure how exactly this kind of thing is done, "And morning."

"So did I, sweetheart," he replies, voice tender, "We'll do it again, promise."

With one final squeeze of his hand you slip out of his truck, tying your jacket around your waist to cover up your legs a bit. It leaves your upper half more exposed than you'd like, your eyes going wide when you realize how much cleavage this nightdress really shows.

"Here," Joel says, understanding your reaction immediately, "Wear this on top." Without giving you any time to protest he's unbuckling himself to undo his plaid button down, shirking it off his shoulders and handing it to you. It leaves him in a t-shirt and jeans, your eyes trailing to his strong arms without meaning to, the arms that had held you close all night.

"Thank you," you murmur, brow furrowing a bit, "You're sure?"

He smiles crookedly and buckles up again, "I'm sure, angel. You keep that."

Your heart flutters as you wrap his shirt around you, slipping your arms into the much too long sleeves and inhaling the scent of him - your new favorite smell - surrounding you. You're never getting rid of this. Ever.

With a wave you hurry down the sidewalk, feeling slightly ridiculous in your layered and baggy outfit but relieved that you're covered up. You eye the tall white fence of your backyard, trying to formulate a plan in your head as you go. Hop the fence, get a ladder from the tool shed and climb up to your bedroom? But did you even leave your window open? You can't help but feel rage in your chest for your parents rules, the curfew, all the nonsense you've been living with for your entire life. Why the fuck don't you have a fucking key to your own fucking house?

You can feel Joel's eyes on you when you reach the fence, still sitting in his truck a few houses down.

Please, God, you think to yourself as you slip one of your sneakers in between the fence posts and yank yourself up, I know I've sinned. I know I'm a mess. And I'm not even sure I really believe in you anymore. But please, if you're there, don't let me make a fool of myself in front of Joel Miller.

Surprisingly, your prayer seems to work. Climbing up the fence is relatively easy; you keep an eye out for your neighbors as you quickly pull yourself over and flop down on the other side, extremely grateful that neither your jacket nor Joel's shirt gets caught on anything. You hurry to the tool shed, eyeing your bedroom window as you go and feeling beyond relieved when you see that it's wide open; God bless Texan summers.

You decide to wait inside the tool shed until your parents are gone, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself with the ladder. You close the door behind you and sink to the concrete floor, heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you've just done overwhelms you.

You snuck out to see a man. You slept in his bed. He drove you home so you could sneak back in.

Quiet laughter fills the tool shed, all coming from your own mouth. You grin to yourself and shake your head in the darkness, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes. Who are you? Who is this new person you've become? You don't know, but you love her.

You find yourself pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket and typing out a new message, but this time it's not to Joel - it's to your friends from college:

i think i'm officially a bad girl.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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moroser · 2 years ago

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[incoming long and personal and dark post]

it dawned on me that it’s april and that means it’s been 6 years since i stopped doing drugs. big achievement. i did weed the whole time, thinking i needed it to keep away from the worse stuff, but i stopped that too, almost 2 months ago now. everything i’m about to talk about i did without anyone in my life (offline) noticing and all by myself.

my entire life has been unstable and so difficult. and i mean difficult and sad. i used to drink pretty heavily, but i stopped when i found pills. i was taking pretty much any opioid i could find, i even stole them. i was text book addict with pills. i had every excuse to keep going with it, it made sense to me at the time. i was in so much pain mentally, emotionally, and eventually, physically. taking them was reprieve.

eventually, i was taking so many a day, quite honestly i should have died. my brain was blank, i lost my creativity and i stopped drawing, which is the one thing i love the most to do. create. even though i did not stop, the fact i felt nothing in that realm anymore was heartbreaking. i’d spent several nights staring at the ceiling practically waiting to die. i had one dream that i can remember while on drugs and it was of me staring at myself opened-eyed and dead on my bed. it shook me.

the drugs affected my ability to think, cry and feel, then one day on my way to work, after taking so many, i got so sick on the side of the road on the freeway several times. eventually i pulled off into a town i didn’t know and passed out in the parking lot of a gas station for who knows how long. i woke up dazed with the taste of puke in my mouth, and totally dehydrated. i missed work, i was embarrassed with myself. i have no idea how long i sat there for before getting out of the car to walk around. eventually i made it home but i felt like i wasn’t the same after that.

decided to detox (after trying before, and failing), which was the worst events i’ve been through in my life. took days, nearly a week to get over the worst of the symptoms. i don’t think i slept at all. i was so sick, shakes and chills, vomiting, etc. i let spongebob play for the entire time, that sponge grounded me lol. i’d made it through that time. and i stuck too it, using my desire to feel my creativity again and wanting to be better to my body to stay away from relapse.

2017 i cleared my system of alcohol, pills, energy drinks, pop, and the only thing i’d let myself use was weed because i felt it would stop me from everything else. and technically, it did. it aided me for a long time. but the passed ~3 years i’ve been so ill with stomach issues and nausea and throwing up that i decided to stop that too.

so now i’ve been completely sober for 1 month and 21 days. for the first time since high school i have nothing in my system that is altering me the way substance abuse has. it’s been a major adjustment. my focus is shit, my sleeping is difficult and my dreams are insanity. it literally feels like i’m sleeping just to wake up somewhere else because my dreams are so vivid and clear. i wake up every four hours having to adjust and remember i actually live here, not in dreamland. i didn’t dream at all while on drugs or weed, so in a way, i welcome the vibrancy of them.

looking back, none of those things helped me. they only broke and shrouded my spirit with a darkness i don’t want to feel ever again. i want to be healthy and i want to give my body the chances that it deserves. i want to heal properly. i want to live so much. i want to find someone to be with that will understand me and accept me even with my flaws and history. i feel better already, but i know there’s still a long journey ahead and i can only hope it gets better. i deserve better. i know i’m a good person. i know i have so much creative potential in me and it’s what i want to give my energy and soul to.

thanks for listening, if you read this. i am proud of myself for getting as far as i have but the support from my friends and strangers online has been a colossal sense of communal help i’ve never had offline. sharing my art has been a big help and just people enjoying it means so much to me. thank you.

#tw drugs #tw death #journaling again cause its what i do #dont do drugs please. take it from me #tw addiction

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silverskye13 · 1 year ago

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can i ask how you get the motivation to write? ive been writing for most of my life but i have such a hard time sticking with it

Honestly it just comes from the overwhelming desire to create. In a perfect world, I would rather animate or make comics, but my life is short on time, so I write instead. I can take my fic with me everywhere, squeezing in writing time while in lines or alone in the office or whatever. It's versatile.

For long projects specifically, it helps to have a plan. You don't have to outline everything [though I know people who do that]. Knowing you have a premise and a major climax somewhere is sufficient. The premise is interesting to you, the major climax is the very cool finish line you want to cross. Setting that goal of "write until you write the thing you desperately want to write" keeps me going. It's why I write chronologically instead of cherry picking scenes I have ideas for and then filling in the blanks later. I treat those scenes like they're dessert. You want it? Work for it :3 not to say cherry picking is a bad thing. I know plenty of people it works for. I just know myself, and if I give myself the fun payoff when I want it, I won't slog through the rest.

In the shorter term other things that help:

Making music playlists or mood boards or whatever. Give your brain a reason to keep picking at the story outside of the story context. Make it fun to work on. Don't feel like writing but don't want to forget you have a project? Add songs to the playlist, look up photos for setting inspiration, make a Tumblr tag for quotes. It has the added bonus of helping your story along, and giving you a reason to make the world and characters better.

Don't be afraid to drop it. Like, seriously. I know this whole post is about motivation, but nothing kills a project more than getting insanely guilty about said project. You're allowed to take days, weeks, months, years to rest on a project. Just because you put it down doesn't mean it'll stay down, and agonizing over putting it down will just ensure it's harder to pick up again. If you're staring at a project and you would rather do literally anything but work on it, don't work on it.

Uhm, counter to that, if it's been awhile and you're scared to start again? Just write gibberish. I have a section on every large document called "cut pieces" where I slam out the most dogshit writing and after I get warmed up, I cut it and put it at the bottom of the doc. For two reasons. The first being you've got the swing of things so you can get rid of all the practice you did getting to that point. The second being it might not be as bad as you think it is. Someday you're gonna remember that dialogue, and you're going to want to salvage it.

Keep aids handy! Especially for things that bring you trouble. For me it's descriptions. I love descriptions, but I often have trouble thinking up good ones or I have something specific in mind I can't nail down, or I've been staring at a wall for an hour trying to think of a good way to describe clouds and I can't. So I keep a description document, full of descriptions from books I've read or previous ones I've written, that I can use as a jumping off point. It speeds things up, keeps me from dithering on something stupid, and sometimes someone already described the perfect cloud, yanno? [As before so again, if anyone wants my description document, feel free to ask. It's massive and it's organized.]

Never stop at the end of a chapter. Well, you can stop at the end of a chapter sometimes it's 2am and you just wanna write [Chapter 11] on the header and go to bed. But normally I like to keep writing a few more paragraphs? So when I start [Chapter 11] I'm not staring at a blank page. Blank pages will always win a staring context. Put an I there so it blinks instead.

Change your document color. Like the paper color? White is so mean sometimes. My screen is black with white text. Other writers I know swear by lavender or green. White is just so hard to break man there's just something about it.

Last one but, keep reading. Like, why do you want to write? Because you want to tell a story sure, but why do you want to tell a story? Well, probably because you read a good one somewhere, and you want to give other people that "I read a good story" feeling. So keep reading. One of the most motivating things you can do is remind yourself why you're slaving over a hot keyboard.

.... And this got very long sorry :'D

Hope this? Helps?

#answering asks #anonymous #the barking writer #writing advice #also sorry if this sounds stilted or theres spelling errors #its midnight and my sleep aids are dragging me to hell as we speak #i can barely keep my eyes open #forgive me if any of this is incoheren #writing #reference

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fractalkiss · 5 months ago

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tierno (ferrari au) fic notes / commentary

i've tried a couple of times to start writing this post sooner and each time i've just stared at the blank grey space and just closed the text editor. and now it's mid-june. lol how has it been 2 months already since i posted this fic. but i will write this up since i do want to talk about it, belatedly, and it was born out of an au by a friend that i really had a lot of fun coming up with inspired by the lovely art.

concept

obviously this is all thanks to dave @penaltyboxboxbox. i distinctly remember looking at the piece and going 'WOW so cool! how would that work.' i moved along and went back to life. and then a week later i saw it reblogged again on the dash and got slapped in the face by the question. literally how would that work. how would it happen. i love canon divergence sooooo much btw even though i was worried about having to change the year in dave's work from 2017 to 2018 because lol, the fucking research threw me a curveball.

thought that this was going to be fernando pov because to upend and change his ferrari era from loser to championship winner with the red team, would be cool. and then i figured it couldn't work because i already knew what i wanted to happen anyway with him in the fic - that he'd retire after the championships, after ferrari just cannot keep up with the evolving changes in the sport over the years compared to their stronger contenders. retirement is all so anti-climactic and a given, so what the hell would even be interesting there lmao. it would feel like a weird fix-it and i have never done a fix-it fic in my life. let flaws be flaws etc.

so then i started writing this in lance pov, and told myself that this would just be me exploring how would lance be like in a team without his father's direct influence and hold. i say direct, because i'm always reminded of the rumours that lawrence funded some part of fernando's career as well while he was in ferrari, but don't quote me on that those are just (believable and unsurprising) rumours.

process

started writing this early january. and then i did not touch the wip at all or write anything for about 3 weeks in february?? i spent so long just casually trawling for research in between writing the first few scenes because i had not figured out what would be the conflict yet. i asked a couple of friends to read over some of what i had, just to help me point out any blind spots. sometimes i still can't tell how my tone comes off in early draft stages. i kind of knew what i wanted to do with it, i just didn't know yet how to execute it.

thing that never fails to surprise me about writing is that whatever i think would be so fun and exciting to do would STILL turn out to be excruciating and difficult on some days. i think i've made about 6 versions of the draft. i love research and i LOVED that this gave me an opportunity to dig into more things, but at some point, the research felt like too much, but i managed to spread it out in a digestible way in the story. it's challenging to glean what you can from actual canon to use in a fic without it sounding trite or boring, like some mechanical retelling.

ANYWAY. by the time i'd written the 2016 party scene where lance and his gf were eavesdropping on fernando having sex with not-linda, i still had no fucking idea what a good narrative here would be. i was distracting myself by making the playlist, and choosing to just move around parts of the wip here and there in the doc aimlessly just to see some things and hope that i'd figure it out. to put it simply: fernando wins a few championships (stared at some of the details in dave's art, and got tickled at the cards and their numbers) then retires. ok. and lance would eventually move on from ferrari, which he will at some point if they don't give his seat to someone else, but he'd have his father to fall back on so ok. how boring.

and then i realized, hold on, that SUCKS actually. that would kind of be a huge fucking bummer if you were already finally living out a childhood dream with the team almost every racing driver dreamt of. huge bummer when your big fat crush retires as well after a harrowing but magical year of finally getting the validation you wanted.

there's something devastating about how quickly athletes are forced to grow up, and with lance, the issue is both obvious but also it's complicated. it's not as if he doesn't possess any autonomy to make his own decisions, but there's a certain agency you're not entirely granted with when you do something with a parent, no matter how loving and giving that parent is to you. lance is like...the schrodinger's cat of an adult but i could say the same about all of these men and people born into wealthy privilege, or people who could never just bear to cut off their parents, to some extent. of course it's fernando who has to tell lance this in the story: "I will tell you something your father won't. You are upset because you know now what it feels like, to have people support you and your racing ability without him."

also something really devastating about how family is just a self-fulfilling prophecy. i love that word, self-fulfilling. i think it's tragic and i do think everything about ferrari is tragicomedy so it goes hand in hand.

this is why i also think andrea stella and fernando's driver-engineer relationship is compelling: fernando has everything he should have to win, except the one thing they can't grant him. but he thinks he should be grateful to be in the team, and he's teetered back and forth between demanding everything he should have and not wanting to fuck things up when he's fighting for championships, so he clings on to the belief that ferrari seems to carry, that ferrari makes you feel, and you can hear the trust in andrea stella's radio messages to fernando that i (and plenty of others) believed was kind and steady and almost nurturing to fernando in getting the most of the car and helping to fine-tune his strengths as a driver amidst the pressure. you can't truly say that luca baldisserri following lance to williams after the fda was even close to a similar parallel done entirely out of devotion, but i'd like to think it was duty, on luca's part. plus, if engineering young racers' wins in junior series gets you a nice salary from their dads, why not.

highlights of finishing this fic were:

getting to see beautiful and harrowing fanart of the fic by dave.

writing and getting to share the research and lore i gathered in this post. first time actually trying to put something like this together, and it was so fun... i love putting in my little captions under photos and adding in sources.

some of my fave lines from the fic:

"Thanks. You too," Lance replied, and Fernando's smile crooked up into a real one, sharp enough that it fish-hooked a fresh wave of fascination in Lance's stomach. Perfect teeth, Lance thought to himself as he ran his tongue along the back of his own.

There's a saying that Fernando's mother taught Edoardo. The saying is Spanish, Edo's words lilting in a thin curl that Lance had to lean forward a bit to hear it again: La cabra tira al monte. The goat always takes to the mountains, which then means that you can hold down the goat in a pen but that won't change where it came from. "Fernando has always been who he is, and his heart, always up in the real mountains of his home," Edoardo said, raised his glass of lemonade in mock salute, and Fernando silently flicked a card at Edo's direction across the birch table almost childishly. That race weekend in Montreal, the weather stays the same, as clear and beautiful outside as it had been all week.

Lance stops idly rolling the pen he's been holding, a habit he'd gained from writing the confidence mantra they'd made him do at the academy. "Well. Can't beat a dead horse." "Beat, what?" "Luca was done here," says Lance, shifting in his seat. "So I'm saying that it's pointless because uh, the horse is dead and you can't like, get it to move." He makes a whipping motion with his hand.

As a teenager, Fernando had Ayrton Senna's picture stuck on the inside of his closet above his racing gear. For all of Lance's responses to the obligatory interview question that asked who his favourite driver was, he never had Fernando's picture up in his bedroom. Didn't exactly need it when Fernando's been around for years now, coming and going at Dad's invitations in the warmest season like object permanence developed through red-toned photos of a memory.

i love the theory of object permanence so much btw!! just saying.

writing anything new lately has been um...well. i thought i could do it again last week, but it turns out i'm still not fully back into it yet. and that's fine. i signed up for a fest (non-motorsport fandom) so...pray that it will help me kill the fears. guess i'll also go back to my attempts for other fic ideas, we will get through this. i'm trying to write more intentionally, less reactionary, so i guess if that means putting out less things then this is positive at least. hope i have fun along the way is all!

#**#back on my bullshit #talking about writing instead of writing

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morrisxn02 · 1 year ago

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c'est lâche, mon grand, on te dira c'est l'âge (self-para) (sort of)

tl;dr: therapy is now in session for your favorite (???) rich boy (said no one, ever) and succession-character-wannabe, walmart roy! and the diagnostic is absolutely scandalous !!! (not really) (this is just a lil funny thing as a follow-up to the rave and a pre-summer self-para) - this was on my drafts for waaaay too long and i just forgot to post it ic date: the week after the rave, before the commencement gala. tw: brief mention of drug use, anxiety

disclaimer: i wanted this thread to be more dialogue-centric, not a full-on para, so that's why there's very little about eddie's or dr. reichmann's thought processes here.

(...)

“It's been a while...” Dr. Helena Reichmann, Ph.D. asks as she sips on her chamomile tea.

He nods.

“You seem anxious.”

“No. I'm all right.” He immediately stops fidgeting his feet.

"You texted me at 6AM on a Sunday morning saying you needed to talk. Want to start with that?"

He remains silent for a moment.

"I thought I had done something very... Um, messed up. But I was wrong."

She says nothing. He understands, she wants him to explain.

"It's nothing really. Don't worry." His voice trembles a bit. Her brows crease. "I was on drugs."

“You mean marijuana?” She knows he is prone to using weed occasionally. But that is not what he means.

"No."

"You used heavy drugs?" The disbelief in her tone is almost funny.

“I went to a rave. I took molly for the first time.” A smoke screen.

"So you were under the influence and you thought you had done something messed up?" She mirrors his tone.

He just nods. She takes notes.

“And how did that feel? The molly.”

“I don’t know.” He lies again, not so well this time. She writes it down.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I did.”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“I’m not sure.”

She takes note.

“Let's get back to that, though. What was it you thought you had done?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought I had told someone something that I shouldn't.” He starts fidgeting again. She writes it down.

He cannot tell her about G. Too much at stake. Things even she doesn’t know.

"Well, I'm having a hard time believing you. You are clearly anxious about it..."

“Don’t you have some meditation technique that I can use, then?”

“No. And even if I did, we both know that kind of thing doesn't work for you.”

“Well, I don’t know, doesn't matter." She doesn't buy what he is selling. "Let's talk about something else.”

“Listen, the only way to help you is by understanding what happened. We won't get anywhere if you keep things from me."

He says nothing. She sighs.

“And do you have anyone you can talk to about this, at least? Someone you trust?”

“Lucas and Océane.”

“I mean at school.” Her tone is reprimanding. She knows he knows what she means.

“No.”

“Well, you should.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Don’t you feel like you need that? That you need someone to talk to?”

“I’ve already got someone.”

“Someone that is not 3000 miles away?”

“I talk to them all the time. It’s almost like they’re here.”

“No, Edward, it’s not, and you know it.”

Silence. He stares at her, face completely blank. Devoid of any sort of expression that can help her lead their conversation down a specific path. She rolls her eyes.

“You are very challenging, do you know that?”

“Are you supposed to say that to a patient?”

“If I think that’s what they need to hear, then yes.”

“And what, exactly, makes me challenging?”

She doesn't answer, instead she pushes him, “Is Cara like this? Was Greer?”

“Is.”

“Sorry? Who is?”

“Greer. You used the wrong tense.”

“Edward…” She has been subtly trying to prepare him for the worst. For the bad news, if it ever comes to. Which, she is pretty sure, is only a matter of time.

“Is Greer like this?” He insists, voice unbending, words coming in pregnant pauses to reinforce the imposition. Treating Greer like she was dead was the one thing that would get him to storm out of her clinic.

“Are Cara and Greer like this?” She half-concedes.

“Like what?” She likes to push him. He likes to push her back.

“Resolute.” It sounds like that word has been very carefully chosen. And he picks up on it.

“You mean stubborn?” He fires back, a smirk on his face.

She nods.

“Yes.”

“The three of you?”

He nods. She writes it down.

“And have you tried getting close to Cara? Last time you were here, you told me you would.”

“Yes.”

“And-?“

“What do you think?”

“Bad?”

“Not too bad. Not good either.”

“Hm. And do you think you two can get along?”

“Don’t know… Can’t tell yet.”

“Who doesn’t know, Edward? Who can’t tell?” She heavily emphasizes the pronouns. Almost as though she were a detective pressing a fellon to reveal the name of their accomplice.

“What do you mean? Me.”

“It’s intriguing to me how sometimes you don’t see yourself as the subject of your own actions.”

“Don’t use Freud on me.”

“I’m just saying… Whenever you talk about your family, you tend to eclipse the first person. Always happens...”

“Can you change the subject, please?”

“Do you think you envy her?” She pushes further. “Cara? Do you think you wish you were more–“

“Can you change the subject, please?” He insists, more incisively this time.

“Sure.” She grins triumphantly.

Any patient in their right mind would walk straight out of there. Not Edward, though. Edward likes that she can see through him. Edward likes that she treats their sessions like a game.

“Finals are right around the corner, right?"

"Yes."

"And I assume we're only seeing each other after your summer break now, correct?"

"Mhm."

"Are you still going to Manhattan for the summer? To work with your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The fuck do you mean? “Why”? Because that’s what he wants me to do.”

“Watch your tone.”

“Sorry.”

“You know, you only curse in our sessions when we’re talk–“

“Don’t.” He interrupts her.

She chuckles.

“Is that what you want to do?”

He doesn’t answer. She writes it down.

“Are you excited?”

“Sure.”

“Because it’s what you have to do, right?” She mimics his way of saying it, emphasizing the word have – it’s something he has said to her a dozen times before, and it always sounds like a burden. A cross he is involuntarily caring.

“You know it.” He replies with debauchery.

She shakes her head. Then writes again.

“Tell me, what is it that you’re looking forward to doing during your summer recess?”

“I’m going to Marseille in August.”

“With–?“

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s very nice.”

They both smile. Modest, but genuine. A truce. She is truly happy to hear that. He is truly happy to say it. She likes them. They're good for him.

“Edward, our time is over for today. But before you go, I want to tell you something.”

He rolls his eyes, and the smile immediately disappears.

“You need to find a balance between taking yourself too seriously and not taking yourself seriously at all. You are only 20 years old, Edward. You’re allowed to live your life like a 20-year-old.”

His face starts to burn.

“You need to stop rationalizing your feelings. You need to let yourself have a good time every once in a while. And, most importantly, you need to think about yourself. About what you really want to do with your life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart kid, Edward," She knows he enjoys the adulation, and she does it almost as if she is laying the groundwork for what will follow. "You know exactly what that means. You just want me to spell it out to you.”

“I’m waiting.”

"Remember what I said about not using the first person when your family is involved? That's what I mean. It's like you're not in the driver's seat of your own life sometimes..." She fires, a grin on her face. Well, he did ask for it...

He swallows hard, fighting the urge to nod in confirmation.

“There's more important things you should be worrying about than not getting drunk with your friends every once in a while, or always being top of the class. Instead, try putting more effort into figuring out who you are, what you want, and what makes you happy. Instead of caring so much about what others expect of you, or who they want you to be.”

They stay in silence for a few more seconds. That is exactly the reaction she is hoping for.

“Goodbye, Edward. Do me the kindness of telling my next patient I'm ready for her on your way out. You have my number if you need me before September.”

“Goodbye, doctor Reichmann.”

Before he walks out, she speaks again. “And, please, enjoy your summer.”

He nods, finally. Then leaves.

#self para #this has been in my drafts for so long and i hadn't had the time to finish it #anyway

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nonagesimus · 1 year ago

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Birthday Prompt 2 - Jason giving Dick a pep talk

Prompted by @dickgraysonwayne

Jason was all for the idea of taking space.

In a family chock full of busybodies with no social skills it was practically a survival strategy. Especially given he was liable to dip at the drop of a hat and spend months out of Gotham with no word, he really wasn’t going to judge anyone for being a tad MIA.

Except.

There were limits, y’know?

Dick needing a break after playing Bat for a week? Understandable. Dick fully dropping off the face of the earth and not answering texts after? Less understandable.

Maybe “dropping off the face the earth” was a little overdramatic. Dick was in Blüdhaven and they knew he was in Blüdhaven. It wasn’t unusual for him to ask to be put on emergency alerts only when he’d spent time away from the city. He just usually stayed just as active vis-á-vis group chats, social calls, and that kind of a thing. Not dead silent while Damian swung around Gotham like the world’s tiniest storm cloud. And as far as Damian went, the mood had to be bad to register above baseline.

So, Jason took a trip north.

Blüdhaven was as grey and greasy as ever. It didn't take long to find a spot Jason knew was on Nightwing's regular patrol route and post up. From then it was just patience.

"Hood." Dick hadn't made a sound on the approach. If Jason hadn't caught the barest glimpse of electric blue on an adjacent rooftop, he wouldn't have seen him coming at all. "Did you need something?"

"I can't drop in to say hi?" Jason asked, archly.

"Did you?"

"Immediately calling the bluff," he drawled. "Wow, you really are in a bad mood."

Dick folded his arms, staring with a flat look on his face. Jason turned to mirror him. The helmet gave him the advantage when it came to a blank facade. The only trial would be waiting his brother out. He sank his weight into his heels, watched the shift of Dick's jaw as he clearly made the same considerations.

In Jason's defence, Dick had a lot more practice, so it wasn't a big surprise who won.

"What's going on?" he said, baldly. "Because you left Gotham like you were on fire, and the brat has been acting like someone shaved his cat ever since. Spill."

"Shaved his cat?" Dick asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I don't know, it sounded like the kind of thing that would piss him off," he said. "That's not an answer."

"Why did something have to happen?" Dick shot back.

"You should know from being on the other side of it that strategy doesn't work," Jason said. "You want me to go ask Damian?"

"No," Dick said. Without elaborating.

Jason pulled his helmet off so he could better fix him with an unimpressed look.

"It's not a big deal," he amended. "I'll—I'll talk to Damian, it's fine."

"That's still not answering my question, Big Bird," Jason said. "Come on, now."

"Yeah." Dick's shoulders dropped. He took a few steps to the edge of the roof and then sat down, dangling his feet over the edge. “We had a bit of a fight the last night before B was due back, that's all."

"'Bit of a fight' is a regular conversation with that kid," Jason said.

"It was—" Dick shook his head. "Stupid. It was so stupid. We were chasing down Two Face, and he went charging in without waiting for me, and he didn't even get tagged, but I saw a bullet miss his head by like two inches and I just—"

"Freaked?" Jason said.

"Yeah." Dick shook his head. "Understatement. I did the full threaten to take him off patrol, and then he got furious, and he wouldn't talk to me before Bruce got back and I had to come home for work, and I spent the whole ride home thinking about how bad I fucked that up, and I didn't even get to apologise. So I fucked up as a brother to you, and I fucked up as a brother to Tim, and now I'm fucking up with Damian, it feels like I'm turning into Bruce—"

"Bullshit." Jason broke in before the tirade could get any more speed. Stomped over and sat down next to him, grumbling, “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me say nice things about you.”

Dick broke off, staring at Jason with eyes that were wide even through the domino lenses.

"I don't know where you got the impression that you weren't allowed to make any mistakes ever," Jason continued, looking out into the city. “And I don't know what happened between you and Tim, it's not like I was around, but when you say you fucked up with me, what are you talking about?"

Dick looked at him like it should have been obvious.

Which, Jason knew he'd talked a lot of shit over the years, but still.

"Lay it out for me," he said. At the very least it'd be a distraction from whatever Dick had said to Damian.

"I was never there for you," Dick said. "And I was an asshole about you being Robin, and I was mad at Bruce and I took it out on you—"

"You are so full of shit," Jason said.

Dick's jaw snapped shut in surprise.

"You weren't around much because you lived in a different city," he pointed out. "You were mad at me about Robin for a total of like five minutes, and yeah, you were mad at Bruce, but you used to come and hang out with me anyway, I—" He stopped to let out a long breath. "I know when I first got back, I was a real asshole about it, but I was being an asshole about everything back then."

"That doesn't mean you weren't telling the truth," Dick said, softly. He looked a little overwhelmed, when Jason managed a glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Ok, so I'm telling you now, I was just being a shithead," Jason said. "And if you overreacted with Damian, you already know it and want to apologise, so you're definitely not turning into Bruce." He had to force the words out, uncomfortable with how genuine they felt. "You're a good brother, Dick."

The overwhelmed look on Dick’s face broke into a wobbly smile. “Ok.”

Then Jason got about three seconds warning as the smile firmed up before Dick fully flopped over into him, draping over his shoulders, and pinching his cheek.

“What a good speech. Who knew you had that in you, Little Wing, I’m so proud.”

“Oh my god, get off,” Jason said, shoving ineffectually at Dick’s ribs. “If I’m not allowed to hide from vulnerability by being grumpy, you’re not allowed to do it with this.”

“I let you be grumpy instead of vulnerable all the time,” Dick said, but he did stop tugging at Jason’s cheek and settled into a regular hug. “I am proud of you, though.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason said. He stopped trying to shove Dick off, though.

“Yeah, ok.”

#dc fic #batfam fic #jason todd #dick grayson #my fic #birthday prompts

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telomeke · 2 years ago

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[ID text– Series of tweets posted by SIGHTS @ Oga_DoctorBlue (a black physician) starting at 10:23AM on 23August2018:

Why we need more black men in medicine. I had a patient this week who came in with left leg weakness over the last week. Younger black guy in his 30s. Brain MRI clearly indicates multiple sclerosis. So we all go in during morning rounds to give my man his diagnosis.

He has a bit of blank stare as he listens to my attending try to explain what he has. He was told earlier he mightve had a stroke, and now we're telling him he doesnt have a stroke. But he's clearly processing what he does have and just says "nah" to having any questions.

So we're running the patient list after rounding, and as we get to him my attending says somn like "idk if apathy is the word, seems like he doesnt care". Laughs and so does the rest of the team. I'm sitting there like, this aint it. And yes, I was the only one.

So after running the list, I don't even stick around with the team. I go straight back to dude's room and the code switch was automatic. "Look mane, I know all that was a lot. Did you really get what the doc was sayin?" Mans looked at me with a face of relief.

Now I'm goin into detail on MS, how it's different from a stroke, and what it means for him long term. The real validation came when he interrupted me early on and said "OH so it's a BRAIN thing I got?" "Yes my man it's a brain thing."

And now my dude understands what he has, why we need the tests we need, and what the rest of his life might look like. All because I could recognize what everyone else seemed to miss, from a cultural perspective. He's not apathetic. Folk just weren't connecting with him.

End ID.]

The rest of the Twitter thread was not posted, so it's reproduced here:

I'm in the right field fam.

Thanks for all the in depth conversation and support! Happened with a few thousand more people than expected 😂. I do wanna say…my attending wasnt and isnt ignorant or a bigot. He's very kindhearted. Just misread the patient response. I do it too, hence the need 4 diversity.

Case in point, the next day we rounded on the pt and he was much more interactive with the entire team, asking great questions and getting great responses. The diagnosis is tough but his story will end well

Link to Twitter thread here:

this ^^^^

#diversity

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 17 hours ago

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Alpha (6x16)

When Karin returned from her last stint in the field, she struggled to relate to others. After months spent observing wolves' non-verbal communication, she found herself instinctively relying on grunts and gestures rather than words. When she tried to speak, the right words seemed to elude her. Small talk felt as trivial as watching lone wolves interact with the pack only out of obligation, and when she tried to dive into her passion, most people responded with vacant looks or offhanded comments about their dog’s quirks.

For a long time, Stacy was the only exception. Her neighbor was always willing to lend a hand around the property when Karin needed help, and she was one of the only people who actually took an interest in her work. She was also the person to introduce her to the sides of the internet Karin had always avoided.

“I’m serious," Stacy had insisted, "there are forums on the World Wide Web for everything. My cousin is a total nerd and spends all her time formatting webpages on Geocities and chatting about some sci-fi show with her friends. On the information superhighway, everything is possible, you just need to know where to pull over. I bet if you just Ask Jeeves, you can totally find your pack.”

After a few weeks of convincing, Karin took the plunge, and it felt like a whole new world opened up. Behind the safety of a screen, she found a new sense of ease. She could finally “speak” without fumbling or watching for blank stares. Yet, as with any social group, hierarchies formed, alliances were made, and she found herself bonding with one person above the rest: a user who went by TrustNo1 .

It turned out Stacy was right—there were forums and chat rooms dedicated to every canid under the sun: wolves, dogs… even a Fox.

A few months ago, she posted about her experience living in the wilderness conducting research, and the next day, she got an AOL notification as a chat window popped up.

TrustNo1: During your research, have you ever come across any evidence that might point toward the existence of any cryptozoological primates?

L0neW0lf: You mean like Big Foot?

TrustNo1: I believe the preferred binomial nomenclature is Lasionycta sasquatch.

L0neW0lf: Hailing from the taxonomy of folklore and myth.

TrustNo1: Is that what you truly believe?

She typed No but then paused, looking at her response. Her nail traced the edge of the ‘enter’ key as the blinking cursor seemed to dare her to press down. While she was indeed interested in cryptids, the people online who shared that interest usually relied on sources like An American Werewolf in London or stories their great-great-grandma’s neighbor once removed claimed to have heard. Intelligent conversation was rare. But before she had a chance to decide, another message appeared on the screen.

TrustNo1: I ask because your work reminds me of one of my favorite texts on animal behavior. Dogs Don’t Lie by Karin Berquist. She asserts that: “Wolves exhibit an almost telepathic cohesion within packs, using complex vocalizations, body language, and scent to communicate across distances. This intelligence and social structure suggests that similar behaviors could exist in creatures with even greater cognitive capacity. In remote forests and mountain ranges, witnesses often describe bipedal figures employing coordinated, pack-like tactics—behaviors that bear a striking resemblance to those of wild canines. If wolves, out of necessity, form bonds so powerful and intricate, what might a hidden, more evolved species be capable of?”

Seeing her name and work typed out on the screen made her eyes widen and her heart pound. She typed a few responses before she found the right one.

And you believe her assertions?

CTRL + A, DELETE

That’s my research.

CTRL + A, DELETE

L0neW0lf: And what does that mean to you?

TrustNo1: I’ve drawn on Berquist’s theories a lot in my line of research. The phenomena she’s experienced concerning canid behaviors are similar to what you detailed in your post. I think it means you’re not alone in what you’re discovering—some things are only understood by those who’ve looked closely enough.

Karin stared at the message, her pulse quickening. Not alone. She’d spent so much time feeling isolated in her work, like her observations lived in a space that few others understood, much less cared about. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, she started typing, hesitated, then backspaced.

Who else sees it?

She stopped, deleted, and tried again.

L0neW0lf: What exactly have you seen?

TrustNo1: Enough to know that most people aren’t ready to understand that which scares them. You know what it’s like to observe something others don’t see. To trust what you’re seeing, even when it doesn’t make sense.

That was the first of many conversations. Soon after their initial talk, she confessed her identity to him and was met with a pleasantly enthusiastic reaction. In turn, she learned that his name was Fox Mulder, and he worked on unconventional cases for the FBI. It startled her at first, the idea that someone in such a prestigious position—a federal agent, no less—cared about her theories, her insights. He’d ask questions that made her feel seen, as though her life’s work held a purpose beyond the wilds.

Fox, or Mulder as he liked to be called, had a relentless drive, a need to believe in things others dismissed or feared. That need resonated deeply with her, as if he understood the ache of seeking answers in the shadows. It was a sentiment she recognized from her own life, from the countless hours spent searching for connections that most people could never see.

As the months passed, Karin found herself treasuring their conversations. She was no longer just a lone observer. Mulder’s belief made her feel as though, for the first time, she wasn’t alone in the questions that kept her searching. And for the first time, she felt there might be someone out there who truly understood why.

Or, at least, she wanted to believe.

Read the Rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

#all eyes lead to the truth #mulder #fanfic #scully #x files #msr #x files fanfic #the x files #season six #s6 #6x16 #alpha #karin berquist

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow.

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek.

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.”

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.”

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all.

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, ��Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound.

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

3K notes · View notes

bridgyrose · 2 years ago

Note

How would Winter and Blake react if it turns out they are online friends. Because they both enjoy writing short stories as well as doing small art projects and posted them

Winter paused as she stared at the multitude of emails that stated someone had looked at her short stories, had submitted a like, and commented on each one. It was a thought she had brushed aside after she had started training. After all, she hadnt visited the forum she posted those short stories onto for a couple years and was surprised anyone had found them buried under the rest of the stories and artwork. Then again, whoever FreedomReader119 was seemed to have a lot of free time on their hands from the amount of notifications with just that name listed.

Curiosity finally got the best of her and Winter clicked on the user’s name to see their page and what they posted. While she wasnt surprised about the lack of art or writing on the forum page, one piece of art did seem to catch her eye: a piece of artwork showing a White Fang protest rally. The details on the picture were clear, each expression of the people captured seemed clear as day, the colors were vibrant, the angry expressions on the protestors and the way the humans looked like they were shouting as they threw vegetables almost made it seem like you could hear every sound as if you were there.

A small *ding* chimed through her ears as she hit the like button on the artwork, not aware when she had moved her mouse enough to hit it. Her face paled as she stared at the blank comment section, unsure of what to write. Not that it mattered once she heard the chime of a new notification from FreedomReader119. With slow movements, Winter brought her mouse to the notification and froze once she saw a simple message.

“”Thanks for checking out my artwork. Hope you like it.”*

A smile crossed Winters face as she responded back, saying the words to herself as she typed them out to make sure everything sounded right. “It almost looks as if you were there.” She sent the message and bookmarked the page to check later. Even if the page didnt have much, there was still plenty for her to check.

Another ping interrupted her thoughts as a new message came up from the all too familiar user Id. *”That’s because I was. I travel around a lot and try to capture what I see.*”

Winter paused and looked through the artwork as she glanced at her watch. “Well… it couldnt hurt to take another look or two. I still have plenty of time.” With a quick scroll, she started to make her way through the artwork and poems before her training session.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, the notifications and messages had started to become more frequent between Winter and who she could only describe as a friend. Messages as comments on each other’s works had quickly changed to the two exchanging messaging IDs to send quick texts to between training and school for Winter, and whatever it was this Blake was doing. Her smile lit up with every text that came through from her friend.

Anothing ping lit up Winter’s scroll as the message scrawled itself on the screen. “*I’m going to be away for a while.”*

The smile on Winter’s face quickly disappeared as she read the message. “Going away? As in moving around?”

“*Going away as in I’m not going to be reachable for a while. A… long while.”*

“You cant go. A-at least, not yet. You had those poems you wanted to finish.”

“*And I have to put a few of them on hold. Look, I cant talk about it right now, but things… arent great.”*

“You’ll be back though eventually, right?” Winter froze before she sent the text, not sure if it had sounded desperate. After a few long moments of re-reading the text, she finally sent it. She didnt realize she had started to hold her breath as she waited for the next chime that felt like hours to come.

“*Maybe. Or… maybe it’ll be best if I’m forgotten. After all, I’m not exactly who you think I am. And since you dont really know me, it’ll be best if you forget.*”

“I dont want to forget you.” Winter sent her text and stared at the screen as she waited for the next one to come through. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, and still she had no response. During her downtime at Atlas Academy, she found herself keeping an eye on the news as the White Fang protests started to turn more violent as the days went on. All she could do was wait and worry.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blake sighed as she looked at the remains of her crushed scroll she kept in a small book she hollowed out. It hadnt taken much digging to figure out that Winter_Writing was Winter Schnee and that cutting all contact was for the best, even if she couldnt be clear about why. Even at that, she wasnt allowed to keep her scroll in order to keep from being tracked.

“Are you ready to go, Blake?” Adam asked.

Blake closed her book and put on a smile. “Yeah, I”m ready, just… finishing up some poetry.”

Adam rolled his eyes and motioned for Blake to follow. “Dont fall behind. If you cant keep up, then all you’ll do is slow me down.”

“Dont worry, I’ll be fine.” Blake started to pack up the rest of her things and paused when she saw a small poem she had written for Winter. She moved her fingers over the paper as she read the words over once more before folding it up and putting it into her pocket. When she had a chance, she’d make sure Winter would see it. Not that she’d recognize it.

#rwby #drabbles #blake belladonna #winter schnee #hidden writer au #hidden writer

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daddyjackfrost · 4 years ago

Note

hii! from your prompt list can i request 16 with sakusa?

hi!! yes ofc! y’all do be requesting a lot of angst tho. don’t hate me when your heart hurts😛🥰

prompt 16: “we’re not together.”

sakusa x f!reader

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort (post -timeskip)

Dating a high end volleyball player was hard.

No one told you of the sacrifices you would make and the turbulence of emotions you would feel. Still, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You hadn’t been with Sakusa long. You had known him for a few years but you two were just mutual friends. It was only when you moved to his town did you and Sakusa start getting close.

Your relationship was relatively new.

Sakusa had officially asked you on a date two months ago, and you two became official a week later. Although your status had changed, things with Sakusa were calm and hadn’t really changed.

There was a solid base of trust and respect that held your relationship together, and you knew that you and Sakusa were meant to be.

You were confident in your relationship. And you knew that Sakusa was a relatively private person, so when he asked to keep the relationship on the low until he was comfortable, you immediately agreed. You didn’t need the world to know you were dating him. You knew, and that was enough.

However, it did hurt when you couldn’t go to games with him, or leave with him. Due to his own, and his teams fan base, Sakusa was always surrounded, and he knew that if you were seen with him, the questions and press would be endless.

You understood where he was coming from, and respect his decision. But you told him that you wanted to at least where his jersey, which he reluctantly agreed too.

So, here you were. Sitting in your boyfriend’s jersey in the middle of the bleachers as fans cheered their loudest.

This game had been particularly long. Both teams unwilling to lose. You glanced down at your watch and frowned. You had taken the bus to get here and the last bus left ten minutes ago. You shrugged, I’ll tell Omi to take me.

One hour and a mere three points later, MBSY Black Jackals were celebrating their hard earned win. You smiled brightly, cheering with the crowd.

People rushed down the the floor, trying to get close to the players. You stayed back, letting the fans have their fill of sweat and one-sided adoration.

After the coach yelled for the gym to clear out, and once it did, you waited for Sakusa to take a shower. You smiled at Bokuto and Hinata, who both grinned at you, waving.

You felt eyes on your back but you shook them off. You needed to talk to Sakusa and tell him you needed a ride home, or to his place.

After about twenty minutes, Sakusa exited the locker room. He wore black sweatpants and a MBSY hoodie. His hair was went and his curls were on full display.

You stared at him with a slightly gape smile. Sakusa was the most beautiful man you had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and he was all yours.

You smiled at him when you caught his eye. “Omi, you did so well!”

Sakusa smiled at you, his eyes crinkling. It was a rare sight, but with you smiling at him and praising him, Sakusa couldn’t help it. He walked towards you, but you could see his eyes darting behind you and around you.

He was scared someone would see.

Sakusa and you walked out of the gym, hand in hand. It had been almost an hour since the game ended, and as you both walked and engaged in small talk, the idea of people still being around was not on your mind.

“Hey, Omi,” Sakusa turned his head slightly to look at you, “can I ride with you? The bus isn’t coming at this hour.”

Sakusa nodded, squeezing your hand. “Of course.”

He hated seeing you get on the bus after games when he would much rather have you seated beside him, but he wasn’t ready for the questions or the media that would come with a public relationship. Sakusa hated attention, and he knew that he had dedicated fans. The last thing he wanted was to make himself or you uncomfortable.

When the automatic doors opened, Sakusa immediately dropped your hand.

People hadn’t left. Fans surrounded the doors and your eyes widened. Curious and heated eyes eyed you and Sakusa, and your now unlinked hands.

Sakusa took a step away from you and your heart twisted. With his mask covering most of his face, you couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking.

Questions came blaring at Sakusa about you.

“Are you guys dating?”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“You’re dating that?”

“Are you guys together?”

You licked your lips at the looks you received. Some were filled with disgust, others with hatred. You now realized why Sakusa had wanted to keep your relationship private, but there was no point in hiding it now.

They had seen you holding hands, and you were waiting for Sakusa to say something.

And he did.

Just not what you were expecting.

“No, we’re not together.”

Your heart dropped into to your stomach and you slowly turned to face him. With wide eyes and a frown, you stared at Sakusa’s blank eyes.

Yes, you hadn’t been together long, but for him to blatantly disregard your relationship made you feel like he was embarrassed of you.

And maybe he was.

Fans turned their heads to look at you for your reaction. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried your best to smile. You understood where Sakusa was coming from, but he has no right to embarrass you or ignore your relationship.

You were worth more than that.

You pulled your sweater tighter around you. “Yes,” you said. You looked at Sakusa in the eyes and then said, “We’re not together.”

You pushed past the crowd and began walking down the street. You could hear the crowd firing questions at Sakusa but their voices fell flat on your ears. It wasn’t fair to Sakusa pick and choose when he wanted to ‘be’ in a relationship. Instead of flat out saying that you weren’t together, he could have chosen not to answered.

You scoffed, tired of his games. Now you were waking alone at night, all because Sakusa was too afraid to deal with the outcome of a public relationship.

The air was chilling and you were afraid. Walking home in the dark was dangerous, and you knew that. But there was no other way to get home.

Or so you thought.

A silver car pulled up beside you and you almost started crying until you saw a familiar silver-haired man poke his head out. Bokuto stared at you with disbelief. “Y/n? What are you doing walking at this house?”

You blinked a few times before chuckling. Of course Bokuto would be your knight in shining armour.

You shrugged, spreading your arms. “Just walking home after my boyfriend told everyone we’re not together.”

Bokuto frowned. He parked the car and nodded at you. “Come, I’ll give you a lift home.”

You smiled at Bokuto and nodded, walking to the passenger side and slipping in. You sighed in content. His car was warm.

“Bo, you played really well today.” Bokuto grinned at you, drumming his hands on the steering wheel.

“Thanks, y/n! Did you see my receive at the end? Wasn’t it amazing?”

You laughed, telling him it was. Sitting with Bokuto and talking like friends took your mind off Sakusa, who was sitting in his own car, frowning.

When you got home, you thanked and said goodbye to Bokuto, immediately making your way to your bed. Your phone rang and you ignored it, knowing who it was.

You slipped under your covers and shut your eyes, too tired to change or do anything. Your heart still hurt from Sakusa’s words and you told yourself you’d shower and change your bed sheets when you wake up.

Three hours later, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of your doorbell and loud knocking.

You groaned and got out of bed, fixing your shirt. You opened the door as you yawned, and your eyes fell on Sakusa. He stood rigidly outside your door. His eyes wide with concern and his fist raised to knock.

You blinked a few times before shutting the door on his face.

“Y/n!” Sakusa quietly shouted. “Open the door.”

You shook your head, and then realized he couldn’t see you. “No. Go away, Kiyoomi. I’m tired.”

Sakusa sighed, slightly leaning against your door. When he drove down the street you had walked on, only to find you gone, he panicked. He had driven down the road twice and around the block to look for you but he couldn’t find you. Sakusa had never felt so guilty in his life.

When he tried calling you, he got no answer. It wasn’t until Bokuto had texted him that he accidentally had his knee pads and had dropped you off that his heart had settled a little.

The knowledge of you being in a car alone with Bokuto made Sakusa slightly angry. But then he realized you wouldn’t have been with him if he hadn’t been such a coward and a terrible boyfriend.

“Please, y/n,” you heard Sakusa’s strained voice come through the door. “I need to see you.”

You sighed and opened the door, walking to your sofa so Sakusa could let himself in. You sat crossed legged on the sofa, hugging a pillow.

Sakusa silently walked in, gently shutting the door behind him. You stared at him through tired and slightly annoyed eyes.

Sakusa walked up to you, scratching the back of his neck. You gently shut your eyes, tired.

“I tried calling you.”

You scoffed, opening your right eye to stare at Sakusa’s awkward stance.

“Congratulations.”

Sakusa let out a sigh, and then awkwardly shuffled towards the couch, sitting beside you, but not close to you.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have said that we weren’t together.”

You sighed, opening up both your eyes and laying the pillow on your lap. You turned your head to face Sakusa and your eyes slightly widened. Sakusa was slightly hunched, and his lips were pulled into a frown, his eyes a cloud of emotions you couldn’t decipher.

“What would you have said, Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa turned his head, meeting your eyes. “What do you mean?”

You cleared your throat. “You said you shouldn’t have said we weren’t together. What would you have said instead, then?”

Sakusa was silent. He knew that you were tired of him brushing you off when it came to your relationship in public and he felt terrible. But Sakusa wasn’t ready for the media and attention he knew that he would get.

“I... don’t—”

You sat up straighter, cutting Sakusa off.

“Kiyoomi, I know that you’re not comfortable with a public relationship, and I totally understand that, but you completely shut us down tonight. I had to walk home alone, and who knows what would have happened if Bokuto hadn’t come.”

Sakusa’s frowned deepened.

“I just... I don’t know. I guess I want to be treated like your equal and not someone you can just brush off when it’s convenient for you.”

Sakusa’s eyes widened and he sharply turned his head to face you. “You are my equal, y/n.”

You let out a small laugh. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Silence washed over you both, and you stared at your feet. You were in stalemate. You couldn’t tell Sakusa that you wanted him to reveal your relationship. You would never do that. But you didn’t want him to completely shut you down in public either.

Sakusa cleared his throat, and when you lifted your head, your eyes slightly widened. He was much closer than he was before.

With a hesitant pause, Sakusa gently put his thin pale hand on your knee. You watched through careful eyes.

Sakusa rarely ever ignited touch with you.

“I’m genuinely really sorry, y/n. I was only thinking for myself, only considering how I would feel.”

You slightly nodded, confirming his words.

“Come with me to the game tomorrow.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised with his words. When you really looked at him, past the gentleness in his eyes, you saw promise.

There was no sign of nervousness. No indication of uncomfortableness.

“I am coming to the game tomorrow.”

Sakusa shook his head, gently rubbing your clothed knee unconsciously. “No, I mean,” Sakusa licked his lips, suddenly self-conscious. “Come with me tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow. Confused at what he was insinuating.

“As my girlfriend.”

You stared at Sakusa, waiting for him to take back his words.

“Kiyoomi... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Sakusa shook his head, a small gentle smile on his lips. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You stared at him, a look of shock on your face.

Sakusa pulled back, his lips pulling into a slightly wider grin. Your own lips lifted into a smile and you both stared at each other with goofy smiles and gentle eyes filled future promises.

“If you ever embarrass me like that in public though,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’ll tell the world you only eat blue teddy bear gummies.”

“Consider me threatened.”

hehe. angst refund @elektrosonix ? even though this is angst BUT there’s comfort at the end!

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @bokuatsubro @literaleftist @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @felixsamour @megumeee @aghashiii @fail-big

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #sakusa angst #sakusa drabble #msby sakusa #sakusa x reader #hq prompt #haikyuu sakusa #hana.writes!

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ryosmne · 3 years ago

Text

You're gonna fry your brain.

Hello everyone, since it's finals season and we're all probably really dead inside, I decided to self indulge in some tattoo artist! Sukuna writing, so here's this brainrot that won't let me focus on studying. You can read more of this au in the au masterlist.

I've been trying so hard to finish up a bartender! Dabi fic I have in the works for too long, hopefully I can get around to it too. After finals are done I'll be writing a lot more that's for sure.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive tones, that's it.

Finals are by far the worst thing about college, y/n knows that the hard way. She's been stressing herself out for the past few days, maybe weeks, going over the same material again and again. She'd constantly argue that she really needs to pass with an high grade that's why she's so obsessive over it.

Sukuna had tried multiple times to help her ease her nerves, he's been there, although he was the type who never really stuck his nose in a book for too long, regardless, his best girl needed a break, no matter how hard she denied it.

Y/n had declined his invitations of going out, she dropped by the shop a few times, bringing Sukuna some food, but he could tell she was slowly burning herself up.

Today was no different, y/n had been writing everything down all day to help memorize it better. So many hours has passed since she started her study session but she didn't even notice that her clock read 8 pm already.

Sukuna did notice, y/n had been barely responding back to his texts and it was time he took matters into his own hands.

The earpiercing doorbell pulled y/n out of her trance like state, she quickly got up from her desk to go and get rid of whoever just rung it.

"Dollface, I was beginning to think you had died in there."

There was Sukuna, leaning in her doorframe, looking as good as he always did, in a plan white t shirt and a gray pair of sweatpants, holding a few bags and a huge basket.

"not quite, what's all this?"

Y/n motioned to the bags he had.

"Nothing much, just some things I picked up for you, will you let me in? this basket is fucking heavy."

No, the basket wasn't that heavy, Sukuna could carry it just fine, he just wanted to make sure that y/n didn't have a chance to deny him.

Y/n stepped aside to let Sukuna in, and he went straight to her kitchen, dropping his bags on the table.

"Thanks for dropping by babe, but I really need to finish the last three chapters I have left."

"Y/n, you're going to fry your brain at this rate, no more studying for today."

"But-"

"No buts, you won't read another sentence today. We're destressing together."

Turns out, Sukuna had brought over many different things. He's not the type of guy to shy away from anything, so the first thing he did was to grab y/n and drag her into her bathroom.

Sukuna had taken mental notes the first time he looked through y/n's skincare products, he was able to determine her skin type and he went a bit crazy, buying her different things to try out.

"You are insane, that's drunk elephant, why did you get this many things?"

"Because you have the really terrible cheap stuff, now shut up you're going to eat the soap if you keep talking with cleanser all over your face."

Now, y/n's skincare wasn't bad, Sukuna had expensive taste and he's a bit of a brand snob

Sukuna gently poked her cheek with a smile as y/n's face distorted because she had in fact tasted the cleanser and Sukuna could only laugh at her before she flicked some into his mouth too.

"Don't kiss me with a face mask on you brat"

Y/n let out a soft laugh, Sukuna was doing his best to concentrate at the task at hand. Matching y/n's nail polish to his. Y/n had just finished painting his, matte black like he requested but y/n gave him some white polish on his ring finger. Sukuna had argued for a bit, saying it didn't look good and that he didn't like it, but gave in after y/n gave him a puppy face, can you blame him?

"But you look so cute like that."

Y/n complained, knowing that this little comment was going to feed Sukuna's ego more.

"I know doll, but artificial orange doesn't taste as good as it smells."

Y/n once again wasn't wrong, his cocky attitude always creeped in at times, not that she minded.

Time passed fast with watching trash reality shows on y/n's couch, after their very own self care day, Sukuna made sure to fix something they could both eat. Now they were engolved in each others arms, y/n's sleepy eyes staring up at him.

"How are you feeling, doll?"

Sukuna's hand found her hair, gently resting on top of her head.

"Much better, you're the best you know that?"

"I've heard it once or twice, I'll give you reasons to say it more often"

He gave her a gentle smile, leaning closer to steal a kiss, a little more intimate than the ones they shared earlier.

" 'Kuna, I'm sorry I was so stressed and distant this week, I probably worried you-"

"Don't be stupid, it's ok, I just want you to know I'm here for you, and it's just finals. You're a smart cookie, I'm sure you'll do great."

Y/n found his words reassuring and nuzzled closer to him, letting her lungs burn with his scent that never got less intoxicating.

"Thank you 'kuna, what would I do without you?"

The last few words came out slurred, but Sukuna understood everything, y/n's breathing got steadier against him.

"I don't know doll I'm just glad to have you here, I promised to take good care of you."

And just like that, y/n was fast asleep next to him, he didn't mind her uncomfortable couch one bit all he cared about was how at peace she looked. Maybe he would move her to her bed later, he couldn't bring himself to do it now.

The next morning, y/n found herself on her bed, Sukuna had almost woken her up getting ready before he left to go to work, but he managed to put her right back to sleep with a kiss on the forehead and a light "don't wake up yet doll".

Y/n made her way to the kitchen, Sukuna usually left a little letter for her on the nightstand by the bed, he must've been in a rush today.

Not quite the case.

Sukuna not only made her, her favourite breakfast, he also left post it notes in some places.

You suck at food shopping, thank me later.

Was written on her fridge.

So that's what all the bags were for, y/n didn't find out last night because of how tired she was, and how much fun she had being around sukuna.

He had filled up her fridge with everything she ever needed to make a meal for herself or have a snack. Let's be honest Sukuna just wanted to cook for her again.

Another post it was found in her bathroom cabinet.

You're probably gonna get mad at me for this but I'm not sorry, you deserve it.

The poor cabinet was stuffed to the brim with brand name skincare that made anyone's wallet scream in anguish and a lot of bathbombs. Upon closer look y/n almost cried at how attentive Sukuna was, he took extra care to look out for her skins needs.

Y/n found the last post it on her desk while she did her revision.

Don't overwork yourself doll, you've got me for that.

Y/n brought Sukuna cupcakes from seven different bakeries to try that day.

Bonus Domain shenanigans: "Sukuna left early again?"

Megumi asked, the day had been going pretty slow he wasn't surprised his friend dipped.

"Yeah, he left this behind though."

Geto held up a very nice looking white shop bag, a slight glimmer in his eye let the rest of his friends know he planned something.

"So? What's in it anyways?"

Gojo was resting his chin on his hand, blank expression on his face, completely unamused by Geto's discovery.

"Give me that"

Nanami swiftly snatched the bag, curious to see what was inside of it. He reached in and retrieved several wrapped round objects.

"Bathbombs?"

He questioned puzzled, but then his lips tugged upward.

Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and Geto, each got two bathbombs, and even though they would outright say it, they were pretty damn exited to drop them in their bathtubs. That's what Sukuna gets for avoiding clean up.

Sukuna entered the shop barely greeting anyone and begun looking around. Fuck he was looking for something, everyone tried to keep their composure.

"Have you seen a white bag?"

He finally looked at the group of men before him.

"like a backpack? No "

Megumi spoke, Sukuna begun thinking he was remembering everything wrong, that's untill he saw something sticking out of Geto's pocket. That's for sure a bathbomb he bought for y/n

"You motherfuckers, how low can you stoop to steal my girls bathbombs?"

Hey it's me again, though I'd add that here, if you have specific skin demands I tried to cover that in here so everyone can enjoy it, I have lots of allergies and skin concerns so I'm kinda sensitive to that stuff. Hope you had fun reading, remember to take it easy, untill next time :>

Tag list: (comment or message me and I’ll gladly add you)

@artist4theworld @skatercashew

@divineteaty

@in-inception

@not-another-ackerman

@jjk-is-my-shit @ilovemarvel99

@thegaymadafakkasworld @readinghassavedmylife @ruler-of-the-skies

@bluebananasssss

@ghost-of-todoroki

@sabsaocit

@heaveus

@jackysenpaii @rebenok-zimnayaya

@aam1na @sore-eyes@ryan249057 @goobygoobster @charlie-xo @kamisamaundercover

@shadoweepingscream

@sunfloweroranges

@haleypearce

@crapimahuman

@fiona782

@levi-ships-eruri

@chocolatecake764

@stupid-simp33 @ciphersighs

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #tattoo artist sukuna #au ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #au sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #a happy ryosmne

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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whatisthiswritingthing · 4 years ago

Text

Announcement - Alex Morgan X Reader

Prompt: Can you do a Alex Morgan imagine where her and R just announce their relationship (which have been going on for let’s say for almost a year and R is younger then Alex as well). And some fans don’t like that they are together and are mad about it. So R ends up going into a little of a dark hole (like being a hemit, not going out anywhere, not answering Alex phones calls, and also ignoring her as well, showing up for practice late, not playing good, ignoring everyone on the team including her Bestfriend’s/ Team moms Ash and Ali just not being R normally bubbly slef,) until someone on the team (Ali) shows Alex what the fans have been doing and Alex plans a day full of surprise for R to show her how much she love R?

“Dinner tonight? My place?” Alex asked Y/N as they walked out of the practice facility.

“Umm, I don’t know, I’m pretty tired Al. I think I’m just going to head home and go to bed early,” Y/N wouldn’t look at Alex. She awkwardly adjusted her backpack straps, her shoulders hunched over, watching the ground as she walked.

Alex grabbed her girlfriends’ elbow, tugging her to a stop. She glanced around the parking lot to see if anyone else was close to them. As Y/N turned around, keeping head down, nervously tugging the straps on backpack more. Alex reached out and tried to hold Y/N’s hand, Y/N pulled her hand away, stepping backwards.

“Y/N…”Alex trained off, eyebrows creased. Heart breaking when her girlfriend physically pulled away from her. She had been pulling away for the past week. Y/N was never interested in spending time together, hardly replied to texts, never answered her calls, avoiding her at practice, now Alex couldn’t even touch her. “Is everything alright?”

“Uhh yea, of course, just tired,” Y/N nodded, still refusing to look up, shuffling her feet.

“It’s just, things seem weird between us.”

“Oh no, all good,” Y/N stiffly closed the distance between them, hesitating before placing an awkward kiss to Alex’s cheek before walking away. “I’ll call you later.”

Alex sighed and watched her girlfriend walk away, before slowing making her way to her car.

Y/N didn’t call Alex that night. Alex spent the night trying to find things keep herself busy, trying not to wait for her phone to ring. Finally, Alex caved as she got ready for bed, pulling up her text conversation with Y/N, hoping maybe she just missed a text from Y/N. Disappointed she hadn’t, she called her girlfriend.

Alex nervously paced back and forth next to her bed while she waited for Y/N to pick up the call. When it didn’t, she let out a groan, tossing her phone on her bed. She had no idea what happened between her and her girlfriend. They had been together for over a year, both teams had been incredibly supportive. Of course, some fans had started to speculate, but they always did. Everyone on the team had “dated” several other people also on the team, every look and touch was looked into and over looked in to. Alex and Y/N finally just stopped hiding it, confirming their relationship with a simple photo of them on Instagram, Y/N kissing Alex’s cheek, both smiling.

Alex didn’t think anything else about it, happy she no longer felt like she needed hide any aspect of her life. Y/N made her happy, Alex saw a future with the younger woman. She was proud Y/N was her girlfriend, she wanted everyone to know, wanted to show her off. After they posted the picture Alex had posted several other pictures of them, struggling to limit herself; she had so many good ones of them.

She finished getting ready for bed, calling Y/N one more time before going to sleep. Y/N didn’t answer again, this time sending Alex to voicemail. Alex pulled the phone away and glanced at the screen, sighing she put her phone on the end table and settled into bed, staring at the ceiling.

Y/N sighed when she saw her phone ringing again, she wanted to answer, she did. She wanted to talk to Alex, wanted to spend the night held in Alex’s arms, really wanted to explain to Alex why she had pulled away this week. Y/N loved Alex, she knew Alex was happy with her, that she made Alex happy in return. Y/N couldn’t agree fast enough when Alex said she wanted to stop hiding their relationship and announce it.

And then they did; they announced it. And then the comments came in. Lots of comments came in and they didn’t stop. Some were supportive, some said how happy they looked as a couple, how well suited they were for each other, some were proud of them, thanked them for the courage to come out themselves.

There unfortunately weren’t many of those, or at least not enough of them to make up for plethora of negative, offensive comments. So many people commented that their age difference was too significant. That Y/N was using Alex to advance her soccer career, to get more exposure. Fans said Alex could do much better, that Y/N was not good enough for Alex.

The fans were ruthless. Picking apart previous pictures, speculating other relationships. Tearing apart all of Y/N’s physical attributes. They didn’t hold back at all, they were ruthless.

It was everything she already thought, having other people seeing it, confirming it, was hitting her hard. Y/N had tried to avoid reading the comments, tried to avoid all social media. When that didn’t work, she turned her phone off entirely. But then she just sat and thought, which was worse than reading her phone.

So, she tried to keep herself busy. Her apartment was spotless. She went for a long run every night. She snuck back in their training facility to train. Everything she could do to distract herself; to exhaust herself so she could actually sleep at night.

“Did you get a good night sleep?” Alex sat on the chair next to Y/N the next morning before training.

“Oh, umm, yea, Y/N’s hands paused before continuing to tie her cleats, giving Alex a brief glance and a small smile.

“You look tired,” Alex commented, resting a hand on Y/N’s thigh.

“Thanks Alex, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” Y/N gave a sarcastic laugh, standing up and walking away before Alex could even say anything else.

Alex sighed and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

“You read the comments to then?” Ashlyn asked softly.

Alex’s eyes shot open, head turning quickly to the keepers.

“Comments?”

“Yea…” Ashlyn’s brow furrowed. “If it’s not the comments, what’s going on?”

Alex stared at Ashlyn for a second, expression blank, before she released another sigh and leaned against the wall. “Y/N’s avoiding me. What comments?”

Ashlyn didn’t say anything, just pulled her phone out, pulling up the photo Alex and Y/N posted a week earlier declaring their relationship. Alex gave Ashlyn a skeptical look before tentatively reaching for the phone.

Alex slowly scrolled through all the comments, mouth falling open the more she read, letting out a small gasp at the especially vicious comments. Having read enough, Alex hastily handed the phone back to Ashlyn.

“How could they say that about her? Us?” Alex had paled now; how had she missed this? “Is this why Y/N is avoiding me? You don’t think she believes any of this?” She shook her head, tears now threatening to fall.

“I don’t know, she won’t talk to me or Ali either. And she’s all over the place in practice, missed tackles, bad touches, you name it.” That Alex had started to notice. “Ali went out to warm up with her, she’s hoping to get her to talk.”

Alex quickly stood up, rushing out of the change room to find her girlfriend. As soon she got to the field, she saw Y/N already kicking balls at the empty net, no real intention other than aggression behind the kicks. The forward began to jog over to her girlfriend before she was intercepted by Ali.

“Fix this,” Ali said firmly, holding Alex’s arm to prevent her from moving forward.

“I’m trying to, Ashlyn showed me some of the comments. I had no idea,” Alex hung her head, guilt obvious in her expression.

“She won’t talk to me or Ash, but you need to remind her they aren’t true and how much you love her, how wrong every single negative comment is.”

Alex nodded along, eyes now watching her girlfriend across the field. She was already soaked in sweat, face scrunched as she focused, her jaw clenched tight, and the tension clear though out her body. Seeing her like this and now knowing about the comments, she suddenly felt lightheaded. This was the woman she supposedly cared, supposedly loved, and she had missed how much she was clearly hurting, struggling.

Before Alex could get to her girlfriend, the rest of players made their way on the field, Marc starting practice soon after. As Marc gave his pre practice meeting, Alex stood as close to Y/N as she could, the lengths on their bodies touching. Alex could see Y/N glance towards her out of the corner of her eye, jaw clenching before she shuffled away. Alex sighed and shuffled with her, remaining as close as possible, this time loosely gripping the hem of Y/N’s jersey.

Y/N turned her head slightly to see Alex’s hand on her jersey but didn’t move away this time. Alex shuffled the smallest amount closer, angling her body so her front was pressed against Y/N’s side. She tugged on the jersey as she leaned up on her toes to reach Y/N’s ear, “I love you gorgeous.”

Alex heard the sharp intake of breath and the catch before she could release it, she felt the slight tremble suddenly taking over. The forward remained as close as she could, this hadn’t been the reaction she expected. She hadn’t expected any reaction really.

Y/N let out a grateful sigh and pulled away from Alex as soon as Marc dismissed them to start their warmup. She then proceeded to do everything she could to avoid Alex the entire practice.

By the time Marc called practice to an end Y/N was exhausted. She dragged her feet to the locker room, shoulder slumped forward, completely in her head and unaware of anything around her.

Alex took advantage of this, sliding her arm along Y/N’s waist, pulling herself into Y/N’s chest. Y/N stumbled slightly; Alex tightened her grip to keep her up. She felt her girlfriend go rigid. “Hey love of my life,” she leaned up placing a gentle kiss on the underside of Y/N’s jaw. “I’ve decided I am coming over right now; we are going to have a hot bath together and cuddle on the couch. We have tomorrow off, we can order in and not leave the couch the whole night.”

Now Y/N began to pull away, “I’m exhausted Alex, I just want to shower and have a nap on the couch.”

“I know you are, beautiful,” Alex’s arms remained firm around Y/N’s waist. “you look ready to fall asleep standing up, so let me help.” She wanted to add, maybe you’ll tell me what’s wrong, but didn’t want to push her luck. “We can cuddle, I know you always sleep better with me.”

Alex waited for some of the tension to leave her body, then saw the small nod as she looked up with hopeful eyes. “Perfect, I’ll come over now.” She kept herself attached to Y/N as they continued into the change room.

The couple silently through the parking lot to their vehicles after gathering their things.

“Umm I guess I’ll see you at my place then?” Y/N awkwardly stopped at her car door.

“You bet,” Alex smiled, trying to draw some kind of smile from her girlfriend, “I’ll order food when I get there while you shower.” Alex stretched up and kissed Y/N the cheek before turning and going to her own car.

Y/N didn’t even wait for Alex when they got to her apartment. Alex let out a breath as she watched Y/N rush out of her car and go inside without looking her way.

By the time Alex made it into the condo, Y/N was already in the shower. She ordered supper for the two of them before getting everything ready for them to spend the rest of the night on the couch, pulling out a couple fluffy blankets, lighting a couple candles. Waiting for Y/N, she nervously paced the condo, trying to figure out how to talk to her.

Y/N shuffled out of the bedroom a few minutes later, finally giving Alex a small smile when she saw the small set up in the living room.

“Hey supper should be here any minute, why don’t you get settled and I’ll bring it over,” Alex gave Y/N a small smile. Y/N nodded and tentatively moved to the couch, sitting on the far end and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top. Alex watched, hating how uncomfortable Y/N looked in her own home now.

Alex brought the food over to the living room after it was delivered. Y/N didn’t even move while Alex pulled food cartons out. The silence tense and awkward. She shifted closer to Y/N on the couch, resting a hand on her thigh, “I got Italian, chicken parm for you, fettuccini for me,” Alex handed the container.

“Thanks,” Y/N rasped out. Alex kept herself close while they ate in uncomfortable silence, some random movie playing in the background.

Y/N placed her empty container on the coffee table, pulling her knees to her chest. Alex put her container down too, leaning into Y/N’s side, gentling pulling one arm off her knees to wrap around herself. Alex could feel the tension through Y/N’s body.

“What’s going on Y/N?” Alex whispered, rubbing a hand gently on her thigh. “Don’t tell me nothing, Ash showed me the comments.”

“Oh,” Y/N’s body deflated, she chewed on her bottom lip.

Alex reached up and rubbed her thumb along Y/N’s creased eyebrow, easing some of the tension, “none of it is true Y/N. I love you.”

“But,” Y/N started, releasing out a breath, “so many people are saying the same things Al, that must means it’s true, that they all see it too.”

“They’re just jealous,” Alex pushed herself up, so she was face to face with Y/N.

“I’m serious Alex,” Y/N grunted out, frustrated.

“So am I, Y/N. They are all projecting their feelings. You are living a life they want, living your dream, successful, happily in love. It’s what everyone wants, you have it and they don’t. So, they are tearing you down to make themselves feel better. Those things are all people hiding behind keyboards and screens, but I bet none of them have near the skill or drive or intelligence or passion you do,” Alex drew herself even closer, wrapping both hands around Y/N’s face and forcing her to make eye contact.

“So? You’re still so out of my league Alex, everyone else sees it. Maybe I am only getting called up because I’m dating you, because Vlatko thinks you won’t come or something,” Y/N tried to turn her face out of Alex’s grasp, fidgeting in her seat. Her anxiety spiking the more she spoke, the more she talked about her insecurities. She could feel tears beginning the build up behind her eyes, the urge to move becoming overwhelming.

Feeling her girlfriend beginning to shake, Alex shifted her hand down and began methodically squeezing the muscles, compressing them as she worked down her arms, all the way down to her fingers, tugging each one individually before moving back up.

“What do you need? To move or more compression?” Alex asked, sensing the building anxiety attack in her girlfriend. She knew Y/N needed to move around, that it help her think, process, that too much sitting made her anxious. She also knew that sometimes she needed the compression, needed her muscles to be squeezed tight. And that sometimes she needed both. But most importantly, she knew that Y/N needed to be given the option and the space to choose.

Y/N scrambled to get up, “move,” she mumbled beginning to pace, “both maybe,” she squeezed her fists, rapping her knuckles against her thigh.

Alex slowly got up and hesitantly approached her girlfriend, waiting to see what Y/N needed. When Y/N remained where she was, Alex closed the distance entirely, wrapping her in a tight hug. Alex just held firm, slowly beginning to sway them on the spot. They stayed that way for several minutes before Y/N finally began to relax in her arms, it happened slow than suddenly Alex felt like she was holding all of Y/N’s weight.

“Let’s go to bed beautiful,” Alex murmured softly into her ear, feeling her girlfriends breathing already slowing as she began to fall asleep, the small anxiety attack taking her last bit of energy.

Y/N nodded her head, hands tightening on the hem of Alex’s shirt, fingers scrapping the skin along with it. Alex gave her another second before pushing them apart and leading Y/N to the bedroom by one hand.

Alex began pulling sleep clothes for them both from Y/N’s dresser, when she felt a finger tap her forearm. She turned her head to see Y/N nervously chewing on her bottom lip, eyes focused on her finger resting on Alex’s arm, “can we, I like the skin contact,” her jaw flex as she clenched her teeth. “No shirts?”

“Of course,” Alex soothed, turning into Y/N’s touch, pulling her shirt off before reaching and assisting Y/N in removing hers. They both removed their pants and crawled into bed. Y/N blindly shot a hand out, gripping Alex’s hip to pull her to lay on top.

Alex understood Y/N’s intention, that she needed the weight, the heat of another body, the comfort of her familiar scent, the soft breath against her chest, and the gentle caress of her fingers along her hip bones. Y/N was asleep almost instantly, the past week of over training and under sleeping catching up to her. The comfort of having Alex with her settling her mind for the time being.

Y/N woke the next morning by Alex spreading kisses along her bare shoulders, her thumbs gently massaging her thumbs into her hips bones, slowly encouraging her to wake up.

Y/N sighed as she slowly awoke, burrowing her head under the pillow.

“Wake up Y/N/N,” Alex shifted the pillow out of the way, whispering in her ear.

“No,” Y/N grumbled, blinding reaching to pull Alex’s hand back to massage her hips, “more massage.”

Alex chuckled and began to work the muscles of Y/N’s lower back. She glided her hands up, working her shoulder blades, “how about a massage tonight? For now, Ash and Ali are going to meet us at the beach so you two fishies can surf.”

“I like surfing,” Y/N’s head popped up, her voice still thick and gravely with sleep.

“There she is,” Alex pressed Y/N’s shoulders, guiding her to lay on her back, leaning down to gently kiss her, “so that’s a yes to surfing?”

“Always yes to surfing,” Y/N sat up, hands on Alex’s hips, her mood already improving after spending the night with her girlfriend.

Alex rolled herself off, “then get up, time to go.”

Y/N got ready to go and was ready to leave the house in record time. She stood by the apartment door with her surfboard in hand, swim bag on her shoulders, she excitedly bounced on the spot.

Alex laughed when she walked to the door, “you look like a little kid ready for the first day of school.”

Y/N grinned back, a full smile spreading across her cheeks, eyes crinkling as it finally reached her eyes for the first time in days.

The couple spent the morning at the beach with Ali and Ashlyn; Y/N and Ashlyn spending majority of the time in the water. Once the two women were able to fish their partners from the water, Ali and Ashlyn left the couple to allow them to have the day together.

Alex guided Y/N along the boardwalk, leading her to small beach front café where they sat watching the water, having a peaceful brunch.

After brunch the couple returned home, “how about that massage now, then we take a nap for the afternoon?” Alex guided Y/N back to her bedroom, pulling her shirt off before getting a response.

Y/N nodded and let herself be pulled along, lifting her arms to let Alex undress her.

The striker pushed Y/N’s shorts past her hips, pushing her to sit on the bed before pulling her own off, leaving them both nude. Alex straddled Y/N’s hips, bringing their lips together she kissed her long and slow, tongue teasingly tapping her lips before pulling away entirely, “turn over,” she whispered, lips brushing but not quite touching.

Y/N did as she was told, Alex raising herself slightly to allow the movement, hands quickly finding the bare skin of her back.

Alex worked the strong muscles for several minutes, the silence only broken by Y/N’s sighs and soft moans, the occasional whimper when a sensitive spot was found. When Alex pressed on the spots that earned a whimper, she would lean down and gently press her lips to it, kissing it better. She gently guided Y/N’s arms above her head, working into the curve of her lats, gliding a thumb along each indented rib. Guiding her hands up the younger woman’s arms, she brought her body until her bare chest was pressed into Y/N’s back, interlacing their fingers at the top.

Alex turned her head so her cheek rested between Y/N’s shoulder blades, chin angled up so Y/N could hear her whispers, “how do you feel?” her lips brushed the skin.

Y/N gave a content moan, lips ticking up into a small grin.

“Good,” Alex whispered back, she released one hand to wrestle the blankets out from under them to cover them for a nap, “I know today won’t fix how you are feeling, but I hope you know how much I love you, and I will do everything I can do show you how much love you deserve. Promise me you’ll come talk to me instead of shutting me out next time? Even its just to tell me you need space; I’ll understand and respect whatever you need.”

Y/N slowly nodded, “I love you Alex.”

“I love you too,” Alex whispered back, “now go to sleep for now.” She tightened her hold, pulling Y/N closer to her chest.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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