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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

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Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .8

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Discussions of child abandonment

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Posted a day early bc I adore all of you so much <3

Artwork is Kiss by Edward Munch (1897)

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

You have to pick the places you don’t want to walk away from.

Joan Didion, The Book of Common Prayer

The passage of time is a strange thing when wading through the midst of grief. At once, a sort of liminal space you’ve created to enshroud your existence, protect yourself in. Like all time has stopped, and you’ve cemented yourself in this space where your pain and sadness was created, but also, with life continuing to churn around you without pause. So that you’re left to watch as everything around you passes by – all while you’re unable to move, breathe, change.

It was… saying it was difficult would have been laughable – inane – to move on from the scene in the park. The look on Joel’s face, his silence, Sarah’s cries for her mother. You wanted to be there for them, to know what was happening between them, if Sarah was okay, if Joel was okay. But you remain in your shroud instead, surrounded only by all the things you want, but will not let yourself have, surrounded by all the ghosts of your past you’re so fucking tired of holding on to.

The day’s been abysmal – exhausting and sluggish, and it seems as though everything that could have gone wrong, had. Like the universe was working overtime to turn your existence into one ridiculous, cosmic punch line. And now, well into the evening, and much, much later than you should be leaving the school, you make your way towards your lonely car at the far end of the parking lot. You’d had to stay late to figure out a delivery issue with your order of supplies for the rest of the semester and had lost track of time once again. Now nearing eleven PM, you’re exhausted and hungry and freezing – the true chill of late autumn finally sweeping into the city with an angry vengeance.

You’d had Sarah at the forefront of your mind all day, worse than usual, for some reason. You couldn’t stop thinking about the sound of her little voice asking you if you’d had as much fun with her as she’d had with you. She’d embedded herself into your heart in such a short time, and as inextricably as her father had. Just one more painful thing you had to carry on without.

You climb into your car and sit for a moment, head tilted back against the headrest, staring out into the dark night. You’ve felt on the verge of tears all day, a tight, pinched heat hovering just at the edge of your forebrain, ready to break and spill at the slightest provocation, and just sitting here now, after such a terrible day, at the thought of having to go back to your lonely, quiet house and get into a cold bed, only to dream about him, well, it has those tears rushing forward and spilling unencumbered from your eyes.

You must surely paint a very sad and pathetic image, sitting here alone in your dark car, crying over a man who you’d so definitively pushed away, you thought that whatever he might’ve felt about you at one point, would surely turn to hatred eventually, after having hurt him so much. The thought fills you with a rueful bitterness, and you think that after everything, it’s only what you deserve. You think of his coaxing voice, telling Sarah that it’d all be okay, and as you reach to turn the key in the ignition, you think that maybe you’ll get yourself an ice cream with sprinkles too, maybe that’ll make you feel even a little better, just like he’d said, make you feel close to them, but when you turn your wrist all the car does is give a pitifully sad sputter and croak and then nothing. You turn the key again, again, the lights on the dash flicker, and then it goes completely silent and dead. And yeah, this is just exactly what you’d expect. You’re sure that you’re being punished. Punished for ever getting involved with him, for falling in love with him, for pushing him away, for hurting him, punished for existing, perhaps, because God can things get any worse? You don’t think so. Your tears renew their vigor, and then you’re slumped over, brow pressed to the steering wheel as you sob. It’s so late and you’re so tired. All you want is to go home to him. All you want is to see him, to have him hold you and tell you in that deep, comforting voice that it’ll all be okay. Gerri had mentioned that she had plans with her sister tonight, you don’t want to interrupt that, and you realize, as you wrack your brain for what to do, that you have no one to call to come help you. It’s closer to midnight than not, and you’re entirely alone here, stranded in the cold night.

And at that terribly sad, despairing thought, you pick up your phone and dial his number. You don’t even consider the fact that it’s late, that he could be busy, asleep, with Sarah or his wife. The impulse is uncontrollable, you need him, you need to hear his voice. Nothing else matters. It only rings twice before that gorgeous bass is rumbling in your eardrum. Your eyes flutter shut at the sound of it, all your breath whooshing out of you in a pained exhale.

“Hello?”

“Joel–” you gasp.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is immediately full of panicked worry.

“I’m sorry to call so late. I– I didn’t–”

He says your name sharply, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I– I didn’t have anyone else to call, I’m sorry and a– a–,” you can’t catch your breath, “I– I didn’t want to– to call anyone else, and– and I’ve had just– just the worst day, and Joel– Joel, I miss you so much, and I’m so sorry,” you cry. “I can’t stop thinking about you saying that this was hurting you, that I was hurting you, and then Sarah, and– and now my car won’t start and I– I can’t, Joel. I just can’t do this anymore.” You let your forehead fall forward onto the steering wheel as you feel tears drip down your chin and onto your lap, digging your nails painfully into the leather of the wheel.

“Jesus Christ, where are you?” You can hear him moving around quickly on his end, the jingle of his keys. He says something you can’t make out to someone on the other side, and your heart seizes with panic for one second, but then: the snap of his fingers, and Tommy, I’ll call you, closer to the receiver, and your anxiety abates for a moment. “It’s eleven o’clock at night. Are you at the school? Are you by yourself?”

“Yes– yes, the college.”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Don’t cry anymore, and listen to me,” his voice goes, suddenly, very serious, snapping you to attention, “You didn’t hurt me,” he says. “Okay? I don’t want you thinkin’ that. The circumstances, perhaps, but never you. Do you understand me?”

He can’t see you shake your head, but you do it anyway. I’m sorry, you whisper again. You know you did, you know your indecision and recalcitrance and rejection hurt him. “Wait, Joel–” you don't know what you want him to wait for because all you can think, all you can feel, is the most tremendous amount of relief you’ve probably ever felt in your entire life. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming for you. It’ll all be okay now.

“I’ll be right there, baby. Don’t worry, and lock your goddamn doors.” You hear the slam of a door. “Ten minutes.”

He makes it in seven. Your cheek is smushed against the steering wheel, half of your face gone to numbness now, when his headlights swing into the dark parking lot. You pick your head up, blinking your blurry eyes, trying to collect yourself – stop your crying, but you’re dizzy, half lulled to sleep by the headache brought on by your tears and anxiety, and then he’s there at your door, rapping on the window and tugging on the handle for you to open it. You flip the lock, and he rips the door open, coming to a crouch in front of you and taking your wet face into his hands, swiping his thumbs beneath your swollen, aching eyes. Your tears fall harder. You can’t help it. He’s touching you, he’s here, after weeks and weeks of dreaming of him and hurting for him and missing him, needing him, he’s here and he’s touching you.

“Joel–” you sob, throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as tightly as you can.

“Fuck, baby, please, please, don’t cry like this. Please, you’re breakin’ my heart.” He rubs your back in long, soothing strokes, trying to calm your wracking sobs.

“I’m– I’m sorry – I can’t help it. I– I’ve missed you so– so much,” you hiccup. He presses your head into the crook of his neck, drapes one of your knees over his crouched leg to pull you in closer to him. You’re so warm, you mumble into his skin, delirious.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he soothes, “I’m here now. No more crying. I’m gonna make it okay. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Not gonna let you miss me anymore, sweet girl. No matter what you say. This ends now.”

Please, please, you whisper again and again over the sound of your tears. You don’t even know what it is, really, that you’re pleading for. You only know that if he doesn’t give it to you, you feel you might surely die without it. “I’m so tired, Joel,” you whisper, as he holds you, settles you in his arms.

He follows you home in his truck after he gets your car to start again, says he wants to make sure you get there safe. You hope what he really wants is to just stay with you a little bit longer.

As you clamber out of your car in your driveway, your heavy tote weighing your shoulder down, he’s already there, gently gripping your elbow to help you out, sliding your bag off your shoulder and relieving you of the burden.

“I’m– I’m okay. You don’t have to.”

“Hush, let me take care of you,” he murmurs as he takes your keys from your grasp and slides his warm palm along the small of your back, urging you towards your house where he unlocks the door and follows you into the dark interior.

“Joel, it’s alright. If you need to go, or–”

“There’s nowhere I gotta be other than right here, sweetheart.” He sets your bag down by the door as you retreat to the far side of the living room. You need space to breathe, to collect your thoughts, or you’ll throw yourself at him, melt onto the ground at his feet and turn into a puddle of tears and desperate want right before his eyes. You think that what little dignity you’re still holding on to should be preserved right now, at least in front of him.

“Sarah?”

“Tommy’s with her.”

“Eva…?”

“She left,” he says plainly.

“On another trip?” And there’s a sort of desperate, hysterical edge starting to fill your voice at the look in his eyes. There’s something in his gaze that tells you that this is it, this is the point of no return for the both of you, for some reason.

“No, baby. She left for good. Weeks ago – got divorce papers in the mail on Monday.”

“Wh– but I–” you turn away from him, shaking your head and rubbing at your aching temple as you pace back and forth.

“You what?”

You stop your pacing, turning back to face him, entirely at a loss. “But I don’t understand…” you say, voice small – childlike.

He steps towards you, the most tender look in his eyes, “What don’t you understand, my love?” said so, so gently.

“She just left Sarah?” Your hot tears are falling once again, uncontrollable, causing your voice to hitch and break. The image of your mother, walking away from you with that tall, dark stranger, never turning back, never coming back to you. She’d gone away that day, and had never really come back again, not in any real sense. And now Sarah, the same thing was happening to Sarah. You feel a hot surge of anger rise up inside of you like a cresting wave. You go almost dizzy at the intensity of the feeling rising up, and you’re forced to reach out to the closest surface for support. A weeper in a long line of weepers, and you are so fucking tired of it. You never want to shed another tear over any of this ever again, for the rest of your life. You just want to be happy, you just want peace, you just want to let go of this interminable anger and resentment, let the wound close, please, please, please. Just let go of it already.

“I don’t– why would she just leave? How could she just leave her like that?” I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t. How could she just leave like that? How could she just leave me like that? How could my mother just leave me like she did? How can a mother just go away and never come back to her little girl? You’d never understand. You couldn’t.

And yet, through the haze of your panic and grief, his voice breaking through the turmoil is loud and clear. You realize that his hands are on you now, cradling you in his embrace, pressing kisses to your hot face and hair, murmuring in that gentle, and reassuring tone you love so much: I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, and I’ll never leave either of you. I swear to you, I swear, I swear.

And once again you’re reminded of category, of the power of category and what comes before it and what comes after it. What is feeling before category? No longer possibility, but promise, promise, the promise of his love. For even if he hasn’t said it aloud, you feel it in the press of his hands, the reassurance of his voice, in his presence here, in this moment, coming to you when you needed him so badly, despite everything else. There is promise in the love he translates into your body, into your soul.

And then it breaks through the haze of your mind: my love, my love, my love.

And there is your category, after all.

You feel him sink to the ground with you held in his arms, and he cradles you as you cry. As you let out what you promise yourself in those moments, to be the last anguished tears you will ever shed for your past again, for the loss of a mother, for the idea of the right kind of love. He cradles you and pets your hair and whispers words of reassurance and love and comfort into your ear until you're lost to the sound of his quiet voice and his stroking hands, and you fall into the first sleep in months where he doesn’t visit you in your dreams.

You come to slowly, taking stock of your exhausted body. Your head throbs, but there is the most delicious heat seeping into you everywhere, comforting and heavy and blazingly hot. He shifts as he realizes you’re beginning to wake up, and his arms tighten around you for a moment, before he’s pulling back to cradle your head and look down at you. You realize that you’re both laying in the dark coolness of your bedroom. He must have carried you in here after you’d cried yourself into exhaustion, stayed with you to accompany you in your sleep.

He rumbles at you, deep in his chest, drags his fingers along your scalp and down the length of your hair, and your eyes flutter closed at the sound, at the feel of him. You love him so, so much. You are so in love with him.

My love, my love, my love. A shiver wracks through you, and you let out a tiny whimper.

“How do you feel?” he murmurs. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m–” you clear your throat, it feels raw, your voice coming out rough and scratchy, “I’m okay.” He’s quiet for a beat, taking your face in, and you bring your hands up to wrap around your throat, to keep yourself from grabbing at him, pulling him over you and never letting him go. You’re afraid, you don’t know what’s supposed to happen now. His wife had left his daughter, she’d sent him divorce papers, but you’d pushed him away, you’d hurt him, and he’d not come to look for you since. You didn’t know where you stood, despite him being here, despite his words and his touch, you were unsure what it was that would or could happen now.

He looks down at you for a second longer, and then nods once and moves to stand, pulling his arm slowly from beneath your head so as not to jostle you. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Okay, you whisper as he turns to go out into the kitchen. You lay there for a second, listening to the sounds of him moving around your home, and it fills you, once again, with the most intense of longings. You want to hear him existing in your home, in your space, for the rest of your life. You’re so full of love for him, love and longing and a deep awareness of how good and kind and caring he is, and you want the opportunity to be able to give him everything he deserves.

When you step out of your restroom a few minutes later, he’s sitting at the edge of your bed, a cold glass of water dripping down onto a coaster on your bedside table. You pause at the door, leaning against the frame to stop and stare at him. He’s still not cut his hair. You wonder if he’d let you do it for him. You have the ridiculous thought that you don’t want anyone else touching his hair ever again. It’s yours, he’s yours, and you want to be the only person in the whole world who gets the privilege of experiencing that sort of intimacy with him.

He stands too after a moment, and you watch his eyes sweep down your frame – fire for you burning in his gaze. He still wants you, and oh, it’s all you need to know. He lifts one thick, strong arm to drag his fingers through his overly long curls, and you admire the lacework of blue veins beneath the stretched skin of his bulging bicep. He lets out a deep, long breath, you watch the wide wings of his rib cage contract and expand as his lungs work. His arm falls limply to his side.

“Will you come over here?” he says, so softly, but with a note of distressed fervor at having you so near, and yet, not being able to touch you, but also, at the same time, afraid, afraid that you’ll reject him again. Your eyes flutter shut at the sound, and then you’re stumbling forward and throwing yourself into his arms.

He catches your skull in the firm grip of his wide palm, thick fingers twisting in your long locks, “This is it,” he says, looking down into your face, “You understand me?” And yes, yes you do. You realize that there’d always been a part of you that wanted someone to tell you, to claim you, to tell you that you were theirs without doubt or stipulation, to tell you that you belonged to them, and here he was, doing just that – had been trying to do so from the very first moment. The realization fills you with the deepest of comfort.

Your eyes flutter closed and you nod, yes, you whisper, I understand, and then you’re letting your head fall back on your neck, opening to him, and he’s kissing you, pressing his mouth to yours and taking you with a sense of savage, desperate victory. Finally, finally, the two of you have found yourselves on the same sure footing, finally, you can give yourselves to each other without anything else to interfere or hold you back.

His strong hand anchors your head exactly at the angle that he wants you, and he sweeps his tongue deep into your mouth, slick and wet and molten. His other hand slipping down your back to clutch the soft swell of your ass and press you up and into him.

He turns to slowly lower you down onto your bed, never once taking his mouth from yours. When you hit the soft surface he slides his mouth across your cheek, along the edge of your jaw, a gentle nip to the throb of your pulse and then further down to the wing of your clavicle. You drag your fingers through his hair, over his face, feeling the flutter of his lashes, the coarse roughness of his beard, the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders as his mouth moves over your skin. He pulls back to pull your top off and slide your trousers down your legs, and then he’s rolling you onto your side, your limbs divested entirely of their autonomy at the gentle maneuvering of his big hands, he unhooks the clasp of your bra, and then he’s pressing you entirely down onto your belly. Taking in the elegant sweep of your back, the delicate muscles twitching and trembling beneath the gorgeous surface of your skin. He slowly pulls your thong over the swell of your ass and bends to bite down on the supple flesh of your cheek – hard – laves his tongue over the hurt to soothe, and you keen, high pitched and wild for him, hips hitching in a needy little arc. He wants to mark you, brand you permanently. Write his name into your flesh, blood drawn for him to drink down.

There is a certain flavor of darkness swelling inside him, something possessive that demands he take you and mark you as his, only his, forever.

He pulls you up slightly by your hips and grips you by the meat of your ass to spread you wide for his inspection – red cunt, weeping and swollen already for him. So pretty, he tells you, praises you. You beautiful fucking thing.

He bends his head and licks the broad flat of his tongue from your clit, all the way through your sex to your asshole, presses his tongue there, just slightly, to let you feel the pressure at that secret little place he plans to eventually take for himself as well. Your moan at the feel of him there is loud and guttural. He clamps down on your hips, tight, to keep you from squirming away from his exploring mouth.

“Joel, please, please–” you beg, but it’s his turn now, his turn to do with you as he will. He flips you back over, tosses your legs over your head and pulls you up by the hips to start licking you in earnest. His mouth on your throbbing clit, his thumb in the cleft of your ass, he sucks on your clit hard, one foot planted on the ground, another bent on the edge of the bed, he supports your weight like that as he eats your cunt. “Knees hurt, baby,” he rumbles into your wet flesh. All you can do is moan and whimper his name over and over again. He licks into your fluttering hole, kisses and laps at your clit, over and over again, until he can feel the tremble of your thighs around his head and the shifting of your abdomen and then you’re coming on his tongue, scratching at his arms and sides, anywhere you can dig your nails into him and grapple for purchase.

“Please, please, take your clothes off, I want to feel your skin. I have to, please.”

He lets you down to pull back and reach around for the neck of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head, shucking off his jeans and boxers, and then he’s kneeling over you and pressing his entire heavy weight down into you, covering you with the broad expanse of his body. He squeezes and kneads your soft flesh, gripping the lush of your bottom to roll your wet core against his hard length. Your shared moan at the feel of the hot press of your aching flesh sliding alongside each other trembles through the lines of your body, and he pulls his hips back slightly, notching the wide head of his cock at your entrance and pushing into you slowly, slowly, so that you’re made to feel every throbbing inch of his thick girth. He shifts one of his knees further up beneath your thigh to anchor you more firmly into his lap and pulls his hips back and then drives back in, hard and deep so that his cockhead bumps at the mouth of your womb.

“Oh God, Joel– harder, please, harder, more,” you beg.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he groans into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at the line of muscle that connects your throat and shoulder, putting more of his weight behind his thrusts so that he’s ramming into you in slow but devastatingly deep strokes, his hand anchored at the base of your spine to pull you onto his impaling cock. “So much, baby. Was going out of my fucking mind without you. Need– need you. Fuck–” he moans as your inner walls start to clench and flutter at his words. You press your heels into the small of his back to urge him further into you. You want him deeper, need him harder.

He hooks a hand beneath one of your knees then, spreads you wide and angles his hips down so that he can drill into you. He pulls his head back to look into your eyes, “Come on my cock, come for me, sweetheart. Lemme feel that cunt soak me. I need it.” You’re stuffed so full, cunt stretched obscenely wide, pleasure and pain coalesce in your core, his battering cock stoking the fire in your blood until your pulsing and throbbing around his unrelenting length, cunt clenching and convulsing around him, trying to suck him deeper. He bares his teeth at you and almost growls at your wet gush. You arch your back further, muscles pulled tight as a bow string, trying to let him in deeper, deeper, you think that it’ll never be far enough, but he pulls out then, suddenly. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, and you cry out, trying to hold him by his hair, dragging your nails over his shoulders to pull him back to you, but he’s bending and gripping the backs of your thighs to spread you wide, wide for the broad expanse of his shoulders, and he’s licking through the swollen mess of your cunt, lapping unrelentingly at your clit, licking into your opening so that you’re forced to roll into another cresting orgasm. Your muscles clenching and throbbing, a deep, searing heat coiling in your pelvis and unspooling in a rush of wet, musky slick onto his tongue.

You’re beyond words, thought, consciousness, almost – a wet, trembling mess of a girl. You think you’re whispering his name over and over again, can feel the vibration of words in your throat, begging for something you have no name for, perhaps his love, his devotion, but no, you know you already have that. You can feel it in the press of his hands, in the sweep of his tongue, in the murmured words of adoration and praise he presses into your slick skin. My love. He sucks hard on your clit, once, twice, and then he’s flipping you over again and pulling your hips up, up, up, and pressing the incredible thickness of his cock back into you, sinking deep down to the end of you, and holding there, grinding, so that you’re left clawing and mewling desperately for him to relent, to move, to go harder, something, anything.

There’s a part of you that thinks you want him to destroy you, to unmake you, to unravel you to your very core and then put all your pieces back together himself.

“ Fuck– look at you… so pretty stuffed full of my cock, baby. So perfect. My perfect girl,” he grunts, slamming his hips into your ass. All you can do is mewl and whimper pathetically, twisting the sheets beneath you in your shaking fingers.

“What?” he pulls out, presses the wide head to your clit, then slides back up and in again, so slow. “How does it feel? Describe it to me – use your big girl words.”

“Unghh– so– so good. I don’t– I can’t,” you cry, “… so full.”

“Oh, I know,” he coos, reaching around to pinch your clit, up higher to cup your swinging breast, twisting your nipple harshly, “I know it’s hard to think when you’re so full of cock, isn’t it?”

He deepens the curve of your spine with a palm to the small of your back, face pressed into the mattress, ass up and completely open and vulnerable to him. His hips against the backs of your thighs are unrelenting as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock over and over, his balls slapping wetly against your clit, his other hand twisted tight in your hair. You can feel the rebound of your flesh at each of his thrusts, and you feel him getting more and more desperate. The rhythm of his hips translating all the weeks and months of wanting and anguish and lies and secrecy you’d volleyed back and forth between the two of you in whatever pathetic attempt you could muster to stay away from each other. All his frustration at you for pushing him away, keeping him at arms length, the painful cage of his marriage. You can feel all that repressed exasperation in the battering of his thick cock against your womb, balls slapping against your clit. He’s like a muted bruise deep inside you and you moan, your eyes rolling back into your head at the throb that rolls through your body.

“Don’t stop, please. Never stop.”

“Yeah? Like that, baby?” he grits.

He pulls you up against him, with one strong arm, back pressed tight to his chest, and you can feel the sweat sliding between the two of you. His breath is wet and panting, moaning, in your ear. His thrusts growing harder, deeper, erratic; he bands the inescapable strength of his forearm across your chest, pressing your breasts up and squeezing your tit tight in his big palm. You keen at the twisting pain, and he turns his face into your hair and groans, whimpers, the sound sliding through your hair as you start to come around his length one more time, cunt clenched so tight it hurts, almost pushes him out, but he fucks you through it. Forcing himself in again and again. You can feel your wetness dripping and smearing across both of your thighs – the wet gush of it, obscene. Your whole fist is clenched tightly around two of his fingers, holding on for dear life as you feel him start to come, the waves of his release rolling through him and into you, coating your insides with his hot spend. His heat blankets the bruise inside you know you’ll feel tomorrow, soothes and incites it at the same time. There’s a sudden flash of desperate gratitude within of you. He’s marked you. You’re his now.

“I love the way you take me,” he breathes into your ear, “My perfect girl.” He grinds deep, and your muscles work to pull him further, pull his spend in further. Your whole body trembles and shakes, your cunt clenching tight as a knot, and then going loose and shaky so that you can feel the gush of his come start to leak out of the place where you’re joined. He plants one thick arm on the bed in front of you so that he can bend forward and let the both of you fall slowly to the bed, still buried inside of you. You continue to clench around his length, and he still has your breast clutched in his grip so that when your front meets the surface of the bed he’s draped over your back, so big and muscular and heavy, and you love the feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress. You turn your head towards him, so that both your sweaty brows are pressed against each other, and the two of you can breathe each other in.

You stay like that for a long time, letting your oversensitive bodies come down from their trembling highs. Everything is sweaty and sticky and slick with your mingled come. Overwhelming in the most perfect way.

Eventually he rolls the two of you over so that he’s not crushing you, your head rests against his chest – both of you catching your breaths still. His cock lays heavy and soft on his belly, damp from your mingled come.

You dance your fingertips along his hip, draw unseen flowers and vines that grow up towards his ribs and down his thigh. His own fingertips are a slow drag along the notches in your spine. Little pauses at each dip where he presses into your skin – he’s telling you something. Pressing a silent message into those beats, and you’re hyper focused on the feeling of it as you cover him in your invisible greenery.

“What are you thinking?” you whisper. He’s quiet for a long time, and you’re worried it’s something bad. Regret or a wish for something different. But then he says: “I haven’t been this happy in a very, very long time.” And what more could you want to hear from him in this moment?

“Wanna know a secret?” he says.

“Mhmm,” you hum, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his dragging fingers over your damp skin.

“I stole your panties, that first time at the lake, the blue ones.”

Your eyes pop open, and you surge up to lean on one elbow and look at him, “Oh, you are so–” you swat at his chest, “I looked everywhere for those – I want them back!”

“Nah, they’re mine now.” He squeezes you into him, cranes his neck to nip at the swell of your naked breasts squished up against his hard chest.

You lay your head back down on him, and grumble, “You’re a panty thief.”

“I am.” And no one should sound that pleased, at the sound of that sort of accusation. “Prettiest little scrap of lace I’d ever seen in my life, I had to have ‘em. Blue’s my favorite color now, you know.” He fists your hair to bring your mouth to his, “Gonna buy you a hundred more pairs of blue panties for you to wear for me,” licks into you.

Later he says: “Can I tell you something selfish now?”

“Always.”

He’s quiet again for a beat, and you’re coming to recognize these silences of his as moments of gathering for his words, things that have never come easily to him. “Sarah’s the love of my life,” he says slowly. “Nothing has ever, ever made me happier than she has. I’ve never loved anything more than I loved her the first moment I held that tiny little baby in my hands. But sometimes– sometimes I just– I wanted something else, something other than just my child, something only mine– that makes me happy and belongs only to me. And she’s my daughter, and so of course she’s mine, right? But one day she’ll go away and make her own life, and what’ll I be left with? Just my memories of her? And– and sometimes I think I– I resent … not her, never her – but I guess the idea of that, maybe? I’m not sure that’s right… but that she’s my only source of– of joy. I resent that. And it — God, it makes me feel so fucking selfish and ungrateful … because I’m not, I’m– I’m grateful for the miracle of her every single day, it’s the first thing I think about when I open my eyes every morning, and I’d never, never discount that or– or not realize that she’s such a blessing and how fucking lucky I am to have her, but… I don’t know… Do you– you know? You know what I mean? Is that — that’s real bad, isn’t it?”

“No, Joel. It’s not at all,” you say softly. The look in his eyes devastates you. So unsure, so wary. Like you’d strike him down, like you’d discount his feelings, not even try and understand him. You cup his cheek and he turns to nuzzle his nose into the palm of your hand. “I know what you mean.”

“That’s what you are for me. That something else–” You’re quiet, taking in what he’s saying. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not scaring me. You could never do that.” You wrap your arms tighter around his waist, press a kiss to his belly, nuzzle the space under his ribs. “You’re a father, but you’re a man too. You deserve something else – besides just fatherhood – something for you. To make you happy.” You think of your mother, of Eva, two people who’d, like Joel, also wanted something for themselves – something besides parenthood that was only theirs, but who’d not known how to find it without forsaking all the rest. And Joel… who’d sacrifice anything for his daughter, even you, you’re sure. But still he’d fought for you, he’d hoped for you, and now look at the two of you, here together finally.

You lay holding each other for a long time through the night. You think of the hours and days and weeks you spent lying alone in this bed, missing him, hurting for him, and now, to have him here with you, with nothing else in the way, it feels like the most sacred sort of miracle.

“Will you take a shower with me?” you ask him eventually.

“Yeah, baby. ‘Course I will.”

The two of you stand under the warm spray together, his arms wrapped around your back, enshrouded in the cocoon of heat and steam. Your face tucked up beneath his jaw, you lick the warm water that runs down the slope of his neck, pepper small kisses to the beat of his pulse, his ear, the dip of his collarbone. His hands sweep over you in slick, roving arcs, squeezing your ass, traveling the slope of your spine, encircling your waist, exploring the lines of your ribs. His fingers are thick and strong and they press between the spaces of the bones in your chest, as if he’s looking for a gap in the protective outer shell that enshrines you, looking for a way to sneak in and peer inside, to the heart of you. If you could, you’d split your very skin for him, let him live inside you forever.

Your mouth moves down to the notch at the base of his throat, and you lave your tongue there, tasting the flavor of his warm skin. Then to the thick muscle connecting his neck and shoulder, you dig your teeth in, sharp and hungry, and suck hard. Hard enough that you hear a little gasp slip out of him, his fingers tangling in your hair painfully, pulling on the sensitive strands, but not to rip you away, rather to press you closer, to make sure you leave a mark of yourself in his skin.

You move down to his chest then, peppering open mouthed kisses over the broad expanse of his muscles there. He’s so hard, so strong everywhere. So much larger and more powerful than you are, and yet, he has the keenest ability to make you feel stronger than you’ve ever been, imbues in you the ability to feel like there isn’t anything you couldn’t do. As if there were a tether connecting the two of you, some sort of invisible string born from his heart and running all the way to yours, funneling that interminable strength of his, right into you. He makes you strong. He'd always let you be as vulnerable or as strong as you needed to be in the moment. Even despite his anger or pain or frustration he still let you get here on your own. And you realize that you’d never been allowed to be soft or sensitive – never given the chance to show your underbelly, being brought up in such a hostile environment, but he’d always given you that chance. He’d always been gentle, patient, understanding. He’d never been annoyed or frustrated at your overwhelming tears and nerves. He’d always let you be all the things you’d always been, but also gave you the chance to be all the things you’d always wanted to be, the ones you hadn’t even thought of yet. The possibility for you to grow into anything you’d like to be is endless in his embrace. You nuzzle into the smattering of chest hair at the center of his sternum, then a kiss over his heart. You pause there for a long moment, press your cheek to the surface and listen to the pulsing echo of his heart beating beneath his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as the beat thumps into your ear, and you shiver. This is the sound of Joel’s existence. When you turn your face up to his, his eyes are molten, full of heat and hunger and yes, there is it, love. You can see it melting out of him like ore. He loves you.

How is it that two people can become so wholly intertwined that words become, eventually, entirely futile? Unnecessary. You don’t need to hear him say it, at least not now, not until he wants to, but you can feel it, see it, hear it in the cadence of his voice when he swore to you that he’d never leave you, that he was here and he would remain here, that he wasn’t going to let you miss him anymore.

You start to lower to your knees slowly, face still turned up to his, your eyes never leaving his, but his hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to, baby. Floors hard.” And hearing his concern for you, that he’d think of that when you’re asking him to let you suck his cock, it makes you even more desperate to please him like this.

“Please, will you let me?” You resume your descent so he’s forced to either let you go, or pull on your hair too hard. “Will you let me do this for you? I want to taste you. I want you in my mouth.” You press a soft kiss to the skin beneath his belly button, your knees reach the shower floor, another kiss to his hip bone, your tongue runs a line at the crease of his hip and thigh, and then another kiss at the space right beside the thick root of his cock.

“Shit– yeah… yes, I’ll le– let you. God, fuck–” he spits, teeth bared in a growl. You’ve sucked one of the heavy, hanging weights of his balls gently into your hot mouth. You run your tongue along the soft skin, suckle gently on the round shape within, giving the sensitive surface as much of your wet mouth as you can. “My fucking God–” he whimpers above you. You wrap your hand around his rock hard length, fingers not fully meeting around the thickest part of him, and slowly start to jack his cock up and down, squeezing your grip at the head in a little twist. You stare up at his face the entire time, and you watch his head fall back on his neck, the strong muscles of his throat working as he pants and swallows, trying to keep his control. You hum deep in your throat, let him feel the vibration of the sound, and his hips start to thrust slowly up into your working hand. You pop your mouth off his sac and finally give the angry, flushed head the gift of your mouth. You press a gentle kiss to the curve of his tip, opening your mouth to flutter your tongue over the wide tip. You can taste the salty tang of his precum, leaking in a steady stream. Then your tongue, gentle as possible, pressed into the slit at the tip and he jerks, almost mewling at that. He’s panting above you, whispering your name over and over again, telling you how good you are, how perfect, how much he loves your mouth, what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this. You finally swallow him down in one smooth go, as far back as you can, and you hold there for a beat, another, another, working the muscles of your throat to swallow and tighten around him. His entire body is shaking now, trembling, his fist in your hair is so tight your eyes smart, tears springing to the corners. You pull back, take a breath and start to bob your head along the throbbing length in earnest. You can taste his precum at the back of your throat, and with how hard he’s trembling, you know he’s close. You hollow your cheeks around him and lave your tongue around the head on the pull back, suck hard on the tip, and then slide back as far as you can go, wrapping your hand around the base of him, the part that’s too much for you to take comfortably. Your tongue runs along the sensitive underside, you focus on the tender spot right beneath the flare of the wide mushroom head, flicking your tongue back and forth until he’s growling and moaning, his hips drawing back to start to saw his length in and out of your hot, suctioning mouth. Fucking your throat in earnest, just like you’d told him you wanted him to.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and swallow my entire load, you hear me?” he grits. “Gonna spill down that little throat and fill your belly with my come.” And fuck, your cunt throbs and clenches painfully at that. You moan up at him, pressing your thighs together to alleviate the aching want there, your watering eyes, looking up at him with all the adoration and pleading you can call forth. Yes, yes, you want to tell him, please, give me your come, give me everything you have. I can take anything if it’s from you. He anchors your head in his hands and fucks your mouth, all the way until you feel the fat tip hit the back of your throat, once, twice and then his cock seems to swell even further, just for a second, and it kicks inside your working mouth as he starts to come. Thick, searing hot spurts of salty, musky come that you swallow as fast as you can. His torso tilts forward, one arm coming up to steady himself against the shower wall behind you, and he moans, deep and guttural, his blazing eyes trained on yours the entire time. “Fuck, yes– fucking swallow it all,” his voice breaks at the end, quivering. You can feel globs of come seeping out of the corners of your mouth, and when he finally pulls his spent length from your mouth, a small whimper as you run your tongue against the extra sensitive underside at the last moment, he scoops the leaking spend back into your mouth with his thumb, pressing on the flat of your tongue as he makes sure you don’t miss a single drop of him. “All of it, sweet girl,” he whispers, eyes wide and feverish, “Every last drop.” You wrap your lips around his thumb and suck, circling your tongue around the digit, making sure you don’t miss anything. When you pull back with a loud, wet pop, he’s already bending to hook his hands beneath your underarms and jerking you up and into him, pressing his mouth savagely to yours and licking into your mouth to taste himself on your tongue.

Chapter .9

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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shinyrhinestones · 7 days ago

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Series summary: Readers new around town, and therefore doesnt know the place or people. However, she ends up befriending the most chaotic people she could find.

Warnings: Idk let me know if u spot any. (Also this isn’t historically correct bc i want it my way ig).

Pairing: Billie Joe X Fem!Reader

A/N: Alright so I’m bored and I’m gonna apparently explore different fandoms, cause heres a Billie Joe fic. However I lowkey dont know where to go with this fic so I’ll only post this part for now, and to my surprise there isn’t a lot of fics within this fandom..

——

On a regular day at the week you found yourself in a whole new place. You were actually here for studying, but it was gonna be a long year if you didn’t make any friends or connections at all. Now, making new friends isn’t all that easy, which is why at first you settled with s cat. A male cat who would keep you company. He was cuddly, but also took care of himself, like all cats pretty much do.

But at one point you had to face the fact that you didn’t do well without social contact. Yes, you still called back home, not only to your family but also friends. But who would be there for you when you hung up? Exept for your cat of course.

You really didn’t know how to meet new people. What kind of communities were there in your area? And how did you join?

For being a 21 year old, on your own in a new place, you really hoped that there was communities for your age. And interests. One to mention could be music. Music means a lot to many people, including you.

You pondered and wondered but you just physically couldn’t come up with anything. So you gave up.

A week later, walking down a street you weren’t familiar with. You were on your way home, and unfortunately couldn’t go the way you always did, when coming home from a long day at your school. You weren’t all to familiar with your surroundings yet, and therefore mostly only felt safe walking the known path, you had to walk pretty much every day.

But this time you were stressed out because the path you always walk, was unfortunately closed down. In a sense that an accident had happened, down that specific street. Ambulances and police cars parked down that street, with flashing lights everywhere. You knew you couldn’t just find your way around, but you tried walking down other Streets to see if anything was looking familiar.

But you only got more stressed as you felt completely lost. Your mind was racing with a thousands thoughts at once. What was gonna happen now? You were starting to get sweaty under your jacket, which was even more frustrating cause it was already hot outside. You wore a dark coloured summer jacket, cause every now and then the summer breeze would hit, in such a relieving way. But instead of standing and not knowing what to do you kept walking around. Walking down a street where you a bunch young people hanging around. It was little funny, so hang on here.

By a pair of stairs, leading down into what normally would look like a shop. But you could tell this wasn’t a shop. A few youths sitting or standing by the stairs, chilling. Most of them with a cigarette in between their fingers.

You hesitated walking down the street, because not only did this look like a closed off space, but you weren’t that well around people your age. Why? Not sure, but maybe its the way its so easy to get wronged by people you thought would understand you.

At first you thought you’d just walk past them, but what if you had to go past them again, cause you walked in the wrong direction, like you’ve been doing for some time now. Your stomach churned.

You then decided to go up and ask them for directions, since it was probably what you should’ve done for so long now.

You probably looked extremely nervous walking up to them by the way your lips curved into an awkward smile, and your slightly shaky voice.

“Uhm..Hello. I’m new around here and I seem to be a little lost..” You were trying to explain your situation as you were facing completely new humans. From what you could tell they were all men. It only made you more nervous to talk to them, as you also took in completely new appearences.

Most of them had unnatural hair colours. Blue and green. Tattoos and piercings. By a first impression, you’d think they were open-minded. And you tried to calm yourself with that. Maybe they wouldn’t judge you, like you always worried would happen anyways.

You felt like they had such an intense gaze but when a stranger approaches you, that will probably be an outcome.

“Yeah so, this is the street I’m headed.” You pulled out a piece of paper from your pocket. A piece of paper you had kept on you ever since you moved in, because of the fear of exactly this scenario.

One of the guys with with a tatto on his arm, and an earring hanging from his earlobe tried to reach out for it before one the others snatched it out of your grip. You took a look at the guy who tried, but failed. His hair was dark but not black. Quite lighter actually. And he was probably the tallest one, but you couldn’t exactly tell when most of them were sitting down. His face had a few sharp features. Like the shape of his face was sharp and somewhat bony. He had a long nose and a long face in general. His hair was messy.

He gave the other nameless guy a look, which you couldn’t read. You figured it was just normal teasing among friends.

The man holding and reading the piece of paper, was the one sitting on the top step of the stairs. His hair was blue, a quite bright one.

He read it, as the other ones let their eyes get a glimpse of the writing. He stood up and you could tell that he was definitely shorter than the other one. Now you got a better look at his face. His eyebrows were a bit long and black. His face oval and his eyes were green. But you noticed how he had small dark circles under his eyes, and you yourself knew what that was like. He probably didn’t get that much sleep, and if he did it wasn’t enjoyable.

He started explaining the directions for you but you could barely keep up. You had never been good at directions, or finding your way around. You really tried to understand, and you didn’t wanna make a fool of yourself.

You felt like giving up and just letting yourself wander around for hours again. But what good would that do? When he was done explaining he was looking at you. His eyes squinted from the suns rays. Which made a Line appear between his eyebrows, and a subtle scrunched nose. You gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “Thank you for the help.” You said, but he could sense the insecurity beaming out of you.

“Alright, come here.” He walked down to the end of the street as you followed behind. When he reached the corner, he started pointing to a bunch of directions while explaining. You were finally understanding, and he gave you back the piece of paper. “No problem.” He replied after you thanked him a second time. He kept standing for a moment by the end of the street, watching you for a few seconds as you made your way home. He turned away, and walked back to where he came from.

His friends had been joking around, and sounds of laughter escaped the young men. He sat down by stairs again, as one of his friends shoved him. “Should’ve asked for her nummer while you were at it.” A goofy tone echoed in his friends voice.

“Yeah, you snapped that piece of paper so quickly, I didn’t stand a chance.” His other friend joked along.

The blue haired guy shook his head, and reached for his friends cigarette box. “Hey!” He exclaimed in protest, but didn’t snatch it back. “You owe me now.” He gave a faint smile, and lit the cigarette with a black lighter.

For you, you couldn’t shake off the fact that this was the longest and most helpful conversation you had had in your everyday life outside of school yet. Not only that, but they were interesting guys. They looked different and probably on purpose. And to be honest they were interesting to you. What a bummer this is how it went.

—-

if anyone is actually interested and wants a part more let me know (: also there’s probably spelling mistakes sorry! English is not my first language guys. I’ll probably right one anyway but at the same time i would need something to be motivated for like be fr

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flowerslut · 5 months ago

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17 & 23?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I know people probably want me to answer this for roots but roots is so canon-compliant that getting into the little details really doesn’t add much to the story. instead, I’m gonna answer this one about call of the night!!!

what’s fun about call of the night is that imo it is canon-compliant, technically, if you squint, up until the late 18th century when I introduce cotn!Esme (who is honestly just a completely different character at this point). her presence, and her gift, is what alters the timeline and creates that canon divergence and why all the other tiny little details diverge as well. when vampires live alongside humans then suddenly (almost) everyone’s backstory has to change to fit that narrative!! so I love that most the cullens’ origin stories are so different—I think edward’s is the only one that hasn’t been talked about, but if it doesn’t come up in later stories then I’ll definitely share that one day—because I get to be more creative in that fun way that writing AUs allows!

I’ve been asked lots of little lore-related questions over the years, and since there’s going to be such a long gap in between books two and three, and there’s so many goddamn details in the first two fics, I’m going to put a little guide together at some point this or next year. it’ll basically be a CotN wiki when it’s done. that way, people who don’t feel like rereading before the novella or 3rd installment can just click around and refresh their memory. (I’ve also been told that a lot of Esme Details™️ are quite unclear, and that’s from people who’ve read CotN multiple times 💀)

hmmmm details details. I’m trying to think of things I can share that won’t spoil later stuff. I feel like so many people over the years have really asked all the right questions so far; if you browse through that link enough you'll get plenty of mindless bonus information! one thing that adds nothing to the story and that will never be mentioned in the text is that a few months ago lilia and I decided that instead of 9/11 never happening (boring, predictable) the same thing just happens on 9/12 (hilarious, galaxy-brained). so no, 9/11 isn't canon in the cotn!verse, but 9/12 is

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I probably do most of my writing in my bed even though, for the sake of my back, I try to sit at my desk more now as an adult. but alas, old habits die hard, yknow? I enjoy writing at night more and I love love love having the lights dimmed, candles lit, and some sort of ambient music playing in the background. I can’t listen to music with lyrics bc it distracts my brain too much, and I am not the type of person who can just “sit down and write for 20 minutes each day.” I struggle a lot with transitions when I don't have a strict plan/schedule for my day and that’s REALLY bad with writing. so when I DO write, I lowkey need to have at least a few hours of time set aside because I will write nonstop for that entire chunk of time. once I get going, stopping is something I only do because I have to, and rarely because I want to or because I just can’t go any longer. that's one of my weird superpowers: the ability to write for hours on end and get all the words out that I need to say. (and often times, too many words that aren’t even Needed)

but with all that said, now that I have a living room and a kitchen I can sit in (first time since 2019) I’ve been able to write in both!!!! which has been nice and refreshing!!!! unfortunately I haven’t been able to write too much since moving (even answering these asks has eaten into my carefully budgeted time) but i'm hoping to be able to get a few stories churned out (yes, including the cotn novella) this summer before the semester starts in the fall and podcast resumes!

weird questions for writers!

#answering these submissions 9 days late like the booked n busy bitch I am 😔#also yes I have had that cotnguide url hoarded for years now #the instant I knew it would be a trilogy I also knew that it would be both helpful and highkey necessary #also lilia and I may have come up with other canon but unimportant cotn details but i cant remember what any of them are for the life of me #cotn

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weebsinstash · 2 years ago

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Ok so I'm revisiting this post because I am ashamed to say I kind of got a decent length into this stupid audio book and I Have Some Thoughts

-I listened to the first story Prince Reagan on the WeHear app, which also has a duplicate app, DreameFM, that has different stories but are very obviously owned by the same people which idk kinda gives me some sort of scammy vibes? Like idk why they feel the need to keep the stories and apps separate besides maybe maximizing profit or something

-These stories are very, I guess on a letter scale are very C or B- tier. They feel very YA sometimes because some of them are quite literally "I just turned 16 which is when I'm destined to find my mate, like all members of my werewolf pack, and it turned out to be the alpha's son BRAD who's 6'2 with his fair skin amd his sandy blonde hair but im so plain and pale and thin like a stick that he chose the popular girl STACY over me who is a huge bitch with long blonde hair and-" like it's ok in quality but it's ultimately almost like Baby's First Fanfiction. Like I kind started listening to Prince Reagan to clown on it bc it gave me Wattpad story vibes

-THAT BEING SAID I kind of got my tits blown clean off because yeah depending on the story they charge you money but some things are free if you unlock a free chapter each day but like, these stories literally go from "my mate rejected me for a prettier more popular girl but I had a glow up and he wants to get back at me but I said no #girlboss and now my new mate is a LYCAN PRINCE" almost like teenager level stuff to just full on dropping the smut bomb and suddenly you're hit with them just straight up saying gushing cunt, soaking pussy, his cock is so hard, etc etc etc and like it caught me right off guard because I was like "oh we're gonna say cunt up in here? We're serving cunt in my cheesy werewolf FFN quality story?"

-There's a very, like. ... so the VAs speak English but they flub their lines sometimes in such a way and a lot of these scripts are so similar in nature that idk I feel tempted to say "this app is probably from another country or at the very least a really small indie operation" not that that's inherently bad but like both of these apps seem to churn out a lot of very likewise stories that they charge money for and it almost seems like a grift or something

-Some stories like Prince Reagan have a male and female voice actor who switch off and maybe guests for one off characters or unique voices, but other stories like the one I just picked up called The Defiant Mate will have just a woman doing everything and YEAH this CAN be cringey! Some of these voices make me want to laugh and the dialogue can really be, I wouldn't say the absolute bottom of the barrel, but...

-almost every single story revolves around one of three things: there's either got to be a supernatural element like vampires or werewolves (predominantly werewolves like OVERWHELMINGLY), the Male Lead is going to be a powerful rich CEO or Prince or something, and or he's going to be possessive if not outright toxic (like in Prince Reagan he basically kidnaps her from her home by coercing her to come with him with threats of violence against her family and he later handcuffs her to his bed so she doesn't go anywhere, and in The Defiant Mate the pritag Jay-la is childhood friends and also fwb with the male lead Nathan and then he finds his destined mate whatever who winds up swinging st JL who is secretly pregnant and she defends herself and Nathan outright banishes her and tells her to never return so she leaves with their hidden triplets and later Nathan has her kidnapped when she doesn't want to return at his summons. and also i hate that i find these cheesy but kind of want to write something of my own fjrhfjf)

Anyways each story has the like first 2 or 3 chapters free and I'd say they're a unique way to pass the time if you're interested in picking up any supernatural stories or audio books or anything of that nature. Sometimes I listen to them while I'm stocking shelves and kind of just trolling on the plot or actually kind of getting a little invested maybe 😳

NOOOO THOSE BASTARDS! 😫 I got one of those WeHear advertisements that have been going around YouTube and I didn't realize some of them are literal full audio book chapters, in an ad? And I listened to an entire like 10+ minute audio chapter of one of those you know werewolf romance stories ("oh my Alpha mate is a prick and chose another woman and now another Alpha wants me to be his mate and Luna" like one of those and I started getting sucked in and then it ended! Villainous! It's one of those pay by the chapter apps too and I HATE those 😫 this is SABOTAGE, TREACHERY, SNEAKERY

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brokenjere · 2 years ago

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bad in the bones (c.f) (part 2)

A/N: ahhh! Second part is here - let me know what you guys think in the comments or send me an inbox/ask bc I like talking to you guys 🥹🥹 hope you love it

Synopsis: first dinner in Cousins reveals some truths about the Fisher’s and Belly is convinced to make a change this summer

catch up here

I sit at the dinner table, sandwiched between Belly and Steven, and pick at the chicken that was on the plate in front of me. The conversation was bustling, especially between Jeremiah and Steven. You’d think that they never spoke during the other seasons, but I knew firsthand that wasn’t true. They just could not stop making jokes.

Laurel was sitting on one end the table and Susannah on the other and across from me, Conrad was slumped over, in his own little world, oblivious to everything going on in the world around him.

My stomach churns, not feeling really hungry but that could either be because I ate too many Twizzlers on the ride in or I was still suffering the heartbreak blues. “You okay?” Belly leans over and asks. I smile up at her and nod, shoving a piece of chicken in my mouth. She looks at me with pity and I knew she thought it was the latter and I hate that being a heartbroken, sad sap was a part of my personality now. I hate that that’s what she thinks about when she looks at me.

“So, Belly, I have something for you,” Susannah says, getting both of our attentions. She gets out of her chair, making us all watch as she grabs something from out of the kitchen. It’s a small, white envelope and she hands it to Belly. In gold letters scribbled on the front it reads: Cousins Beach Debutant Ball.

“Is this why you had to go to the country club earlier?” Laurel asks, making Susannah laugh and shrug. There was a country club here? Of course their was.

“What’s a debutant ball?” Belly asks, looking at Susannah. A scam. A show. A miserable excuse for people to put young girls on display. Laurel expresses my thoughts verbally and Susannah rebults, telling Belly that it was a coming of age. Like a bar mitzvah.

“It is not like a bar mitzvah,” Laurel scoffs. Susannah shrugs, accepting defeat.

“I’d really like you to consider,” she says, finally. Belly folds up the invitation and puts it down on the table.

“Debs are for sheep,” Conrad speaks up. It was the first time he spoke all dinner and everyone looks over at him. He doesn’t look up even after Jeremiah starts to take jabs at him.

“Didn’t you go last year? With Nicole?”

“Who’s Nicole?” Belly asks. I feel heat radiating off of her arms and Conrad looks up at her like she had no right to speak.

“It was after you guys left for Steven’s college tour. It doesn’t matter, I only went because Mom asked me to.” I remember that summer and how they came home early. Steven and his dad went off on a road trip to check out colleges and I remember being viciously jealous that his dad cared that much. I felt guilty for feeling that way when a few months later, Laurel and John announced their divorce.

The two brothers bicker back and forth before Susannah tells them to stop. I keep my eyes focused on the peas that I moved around on my plate, popping one or two in my mouth every few seconds. “Conrad quit football, you know,” Jeremiah says, getting in one final jab before Conrad throws his fork down on the plate, a crash reverbrating through the room. It bounces off the china cabinet on the other side of the room and everyones eyes widen as they watch him walk away.

“Was that really necessary?” Susannah sighs, putting her head in her hands, her golden hair falling in front of her face. I look at Jeremiah, finding out more about his personality in the last few moments than I had learned from all the stories Belly and Steven had told me. He was a jealous little brother.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I click it open: Mallory.

how is it?????

My fingers hover over the keyboard on my phone, deciding what words to use to describe my first day in Cousin’s so far. There isn’t a lot to say, really. Gorgeous, warm, a seaside dream. And then there were the boys. Gorgeous, warm, a seaside dream.

good. how is josh?

I want to kick myself the second I hit send on the message. Who cares how Josh is? Me, apparently. I did. He was in my thoughts during the rest of dinner, while I was in the shower afterward, and even now, as I lay in my bed and stare out the window at the ocean. I was hoping to drown in it, but I hadn’t even stepped foot in the sand yet.

ughhhhh, stop with him already. any cute boys?

Yes. I want to type. Two.

i’m not ready to move on

lame

I set my phone down on the bed next to me. I’m looking up at the white ceiling and trying to focus on the sound of the beach below me but I keep hearing his name. I love you. Please don’t walk away. Please come back.

My phone buzzes again: tell me more!!!

I type back a vague response about how the sky matches the blue of the ocean and how Susannah’s smile is just as pretty in person as in the photos that me and Mallory always used to stare at whenever we were at Aunt Laurel’s and I hit send, hoping it would saciate her hunger.

If I am the wild to Belly’s calm, Mallory is the tornado to my light shower. She is wilder, funnier, more outgoing, and certainly always the center of attention. I’m in her shadow while many would say Belly is in mine. Mallory always rode in the front seat and we rode in the back. She was always at the head of the table while we were on the side, passing the butter and salt back and forth while Mallory unfolded the drama around us.

I don’t get a text back, but there’s a knock on the door. Belly sticks her head inside and I sit up in bed, telling her to come in. “Nice pick,” she tells me. “This one has the best lighting.” She’s wet, her hair dripping down her back over an oversized t-shirt. I bet she has her swimsuit on underneath.

“I thought so, too.” She sits down next to me on the bed. “Night swim?” I ask.

She nods and laughs, pulling her hair to the front of her body. “Sorry. I should have asked you to come with,” she says.

“I probably would have said no, anyway,” I tell her. I probably would have agreed, but I didn’t want her to feel bad for not inviting me. After all, it was probably weird for her to have a shadow this summer and the last thing I wanted to do was put a damper on her summer.

“The boys said I’m not invited to the bonfire tonight,” she tells me. “They all just left and Steven said I had to stay in. The moms are getting ready for our movie night.”

“What? Who are they to decide?” I scoff, shifting in the bed, sitting up on my elbows. Belly shrugs and looks at me. Her eyes are pooling with tears and if she starts to cry, I don’t know that I would be able to hold myself back, either. So far, I had not cried. I did not cry when I told Mallory I’d be gone all summer and I did not cry when Josh texted me asking if it was true and I did not cry when he told me he would miss me but seeing Belly cry, might just do it for me.

“I told you, now that we’re older I get left out a lot more. I’m too young,” she says, using her fingers as quotes around the words too young.

“You’re one year younger than them,” I tell her, throwing myself off the bed and heading to the closet. Mallory insisted that I pack hot clothes. She told me, “you’ll never know if you’ll find a hot boy to occupy your time.”

I throw a blue dress at Belly and tell her, “get dressed. We’re going.” Her eyes lit up as she lifted the dress up. I grab a white one out of my closet, one a little more flowy than the one I gave to Belly but it was still short. Mallory was right, it was lame that I hadn’t moved on yet.

“Isn’t this a little short?” Belly asks, holding it up to her body. It ended right below her ass.

“Maybe it’ll make Conrad look,” I shrug.

I spin her around the full-size mirror in her bedroom and whistle as her hair twirls around her. “These boys won’t know what hit them.”

“And what about you?” She says, gawking at me. I wave her off and grab my shoes, putting them on to avoid the conversation. “How are we going to get out?” She asks. The bedroom door is closed, but she whispers as if the moms can hear us. Belly and I already went down and told the moms we were just going to spend the first night. Have a girls sleepover in Belly’s room, if you will. They dismissed us with a sad smile and we came back upstairs.

“We’ll sneak out,” I say. “You’ve never snuck out before?” I knew that was true. Belly would never have been caught dead sneaking out, but before this summer she never really needed to. “It’ll be fine,” I tell her, grabbing her hand. I make her carry her flip flops so the moms don’t hear them slapping as we walk down the stairs and I tip-toe in my sneakers down the wooden steps, moving so slow you could have fallen asleep by watching us.

To say that this bonfire was worth sneaking out for would be a lie. There were too many people here and the sand was littered with beer bottles and cups. Jumper was just as sleezy as I remembered. He tried to put his arm around Belly and I when we arrived, trying to flirt his way into some company. Belly’s too nice to ever tell him no, so I give him a fake smile and tell him to get lost before dragging her further down the beach.

She stops in her tracks, causing me to fly backward from the sudden stop. I give her a look but she’s looking beyond me, further down toward the fire. I follow her gaze to see Conrad with a girl between his legs. He has them up, his arms wrapped around his knees. A small girl, petite with a Red Sox hat on, was sitting between his knees laughing at a joke he made.

“Oh.” She nods at my unintentional words. “Do you want to go the other way?” I ask. What other way? The only way was straight ahead and that would be entering the snake pit. He sees us before she can decide.

Then, she does something I never would have guessed: she calls him out. “Who’s that?”

Conrad looks stunned too, as does the girl. She replies as if she’s being spoken to. “Nicole, and who are you?”

“I took her to the deb ball last year,” Conrad says. She is who he took to the ball. And here she is, between his legs. I feel the anger for Belly. Her anger is now my anger despite being able to feel it penetrating off of her skin.

“I thought you said deb balls are for sheep,” Belly spits her words at him. Nicole shifts and I grab Belly’s hand to pull her away before the fight escalates.

“God you’re such a brat.” His words are harsh. Not like they’re meant for a girl he’s known since childhood. There was a bitterness there only reserved for the people you love that have hurt you. I have heard that bitterness more times than I care to admit.

“Oh, shut up Conrad,” I tell him, stunning even myself. Belly looks at me but I ignore her. Me and Conrad stare at each other, unwavering.

Neither of us speak, so I walk away with Belly trailing behind me. I take her to the keg and pour her a drink. “Here,” I say. She takes the drink from my hand and stares at me. “What?”

“You just told him to shut up.”

“Like you weren’t thinking about saying it.”

She scoffs and then says, “yeah but I never would.” And then she laughs and I laugh with her because how could I not. “Did you see his face?”

“Who’s face?” I turn around and Jeremiah sticks his head between Belly and I.

“Cons when Yn told him to shut up,” Belly tells him, her eyes wide and a smile on her face. Jeremiah’s eyes basically bulged out of his head when he looked at me.

“You said that?” I nod, shrugging my shoulders. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. He was just a boy. A stupid, stupid boy. “What are you guys even doing here?” He asks.

“We snuck out,” Belly tells him.

“You snuck out?” Belly nods. “Who are you and what have you done to Isobel Conklin?” He asks, a smile spreading over his cheeks as he pulls her into his side. Belly laughs and tries to shrug but she can’t.

“You don’t know me when I’m with my better half,” she says, winking at me.

“More like a bad influence.” Jeremiah winks, telling me he’s just teasing but I stick my tongue out at him anyway, rolling my eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admits and squeezes Belly before he gets called away.

Belly chugs down her drink, barely stopping for a breath. I watch her as beer trickles down her chin and she wipes it away with the back of her hand. She hands me the cup and then gestures for me to refill it. I do. “Thanks,” she mumbles before taking a small drink of the freshly filled cup.

“You a heavy drinker now?” I ask, gently teasing her. But Belly was never much of a drinker. She had one or two occasionally at parties but never alone and never that much in such little time.

“He’s just so-“ she starts but then cuts herself off.

“So what?”

“So infuriating.” I nod as if I understand. “One minute he’s fine. We get along. I think maybe he even likes me back but then the next he’s canoodling with Nicole in the sand and telling me I’m a brat? What is that?” She drinks some more beer and I mirror her. “You know, last summer we were good. Great even. And now?” She shakes her head.

“Didn’t your mom say there was a vibe between you and Jeremiah?” I ask, trying to recall the conversation in the car on our way here. I was zoned out, staring out the window, picturing all the ways I could torture Josh with a pair of tweezers but I remember Laurel’s voice asking about Jeremiah and Steven’s outwardly disgust at the thought.

Belly waves me off. “We’re just best friends. Have been forever. He’s like my brother.”

“But if he likes you, why not give it a shot? Instead of pinning for Conrad when he acts like that?” It was just a suggestion, but Belly seems offended. She pulls back a little and furrows her eyebrows. I pretend not to notice and find Jeremiah in the crowd, his arm around a girl similarly to how he had his arm around Belly moments before. Maybe that’s why.

“Jeremiah doesn’t like me,” she says.

I shrug and drink my beer to avoid eye contact with her. She seems to let my comment go and continues her rant. “I just think if Conrad would get over himself, we could be fine again. I mean, out of all the summers, this so far has to be the worst he’s been.”

It just started, I want to say to her. But I don’t know Conrad. And I don’t know Jeremiah and who am I to give her advice about people and things I know nothing about. I don’t think I’d take any relationship advice from me right now as it stands, regardless.

My eyes find Conrad. He’s still in the sand but Nicole is gone. I don’t bother looking for her but it seems maybe Conrad is. Or he’s looking for Steven and Jeremiah. Or even Belly. His hair is in his face and he pushes it back with his hand and then he finds us by the keg and stops searching the beach.

He stares st me and I stare back as Belly talks. I see her hands waving in frustration through the corner of my eye and I nod like I’m listening but I think she’s too engrossed in her complaining to notice I’m not really paying much attention. Hate. Loser. Pain in the ass. All words she’s using to describe Conrad.

He gives me a small wave. And I wave back. He looks like maybe he’s about to stand up, but then Nicole comes back and she hands him a drink, taking his attention away from me and back onto her. “Are you even listening to me?” Belly finally asks, snapping her fingers in my face.

I look at her: all wide eyes and messy hair. “Yeah,” i lie. “I was listening to you.”

taglist: @marajillana

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher rec #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher fan fic #jeremiah fisher x reader #conrad fisher one shot #belly conklin

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reidslibrarybook · 3 years ago

Text

Give Up

Couple - Spencer x pregnant!reader

Requested - can i request a little blurb where like reider (you know who this is bc of that lol) asks spencer if there’s someone else bc he’s still sleeping in the living room and she knows it isn’t true but her insecurities get the best of her? maybe like a part two to the fic you just wrote? i thought of that and i was like i need my heart strings pulled

Warnings - language, sexual innuendos and lots of them , insecurity, not proofread (lmk if i missed some)

Summary - Spencer’s been leaving bed abruptly since the start of your pregnancy, what was more interesting than staying home with you and your daughter?

Category - fluff and hurt/comfort i think?

Word Count - 4k

A/N - this one is kinda cute ngl but reader is hella dramatic lmao.

ident and italics = flashback

masterlist

join my taglist here!

—————————————-

Marriage was a two-way street, an agreement of compromise and a vow to never let go of the other. Your pregnancy was not easy in any way, filled with horrible discomfort and an annoying possibility of mood swings every time something ticked you off.

The two of you had to give up lots of things to make your little family work, especially since you were carrying your second child. You and Spencer agreed to make more time for each other and your kids— the both of you stepping down from the dangerous or time-consuming aspects of your jobs.

You always wondered if he secretly resented you for prompting him to give up his work as a field agent at the BAU. He was still there, working with Penelope at the office instead of flying from state to state every week, but you couldn’t help but question if a part of his heart blamed you for withholding him from doing something he loved.

He constantly reassured you but you were never certain despite the happy smile that was plastered on his face whenever he was around you or your daughter, Aurora. You thought the name was fitting since he always called her his ‘little princess’ but you preferred a shorter one, so the two of you settled on Aurora and Rory for short.

Spencer loved her and he loved you, at least you thought so.

Every day, in the early morning before dawn, he’d leave the bed and come back an hour or two later. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get up every once in a while because his brain wouldn’t stop churning, but, much to your chagrin, the act had become a daily occurrence.

You never knew where he was going and you didn’t want to ask either. Ignorance was always your downfall and it was clear that the flaw wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

“Mommy,” your eyes fluttered open to see Rory standing at the edge of the bed near your face, “Wake up, Mommy.”

You nodded groggily, “I’m awake. What’s wrong?”

“Can I sleep with you please?”

You smiled and nodded, sitting up just enough to pick her up from the floor and roll her over to the center of the bed… a bed that was missing Spencer.

“Where’s Daddy?”

You pulled her close to your chest, being careful of the little bump on your stomach that continued to grow.

“I don’t know, love.”

“Daddy left earlier, I saw him leave.”

You furrowed your brows as your heart rate began to pick up from its resting state. “You saw him leave?”

She nodded her head rapidly, her tiny hands continuing to paw at your back. “Mhm, he told me not to tell you.”

The figure in your arms began to wiggle out of your grasp until she was flush with your face.

“Please don’t tell Daddy I told you, I don’t want him to get mad at me.” She squeezed your cheeks with her baby hands, rocking your head from side to side to emphasize her point.

“I promise, Rory. Now, you have to get to sleep. You have school tomorrow,” you whispered into her hair as she returned to her position with her face in your neck.

She slowly moved her head up and down until soft snores fell from her lips. You were still wide awake, your mind wandering to the different possibilities. He could be anywhere and you had absolutely no idea where ‘anywhere’ was.

—————————--

Your eyelids opened as soon as you heard the creaking of your bedroom door, a tall lean figure walking in and sliding into bed wordlessly beside you. Your body had a visceral reaction to his return, immediately gravitating towards him and reaching your hands over to grab him closer for warmth.

He looked over at you, completely surprised that you had woken up so quickly after his return. Spencer tried his best to open his eyes so they’d adjust to the dimly lit room, illuminated by the soft glow of both the moon and the sun.

“Y/N, you’re awake?”

You nodded, squishing Rory in between the two of your bodies as you nuzzled your head into his chest. Your nose scrunched up as your senses were bombarded with a familiar scent that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Where were you,” you whispered. You could feel his heart rate pick up as his breathing pattern became more and more irregular.

“I was hungry so I went out for a snack.”

“You left the house for a snack at 4 am?”

He sucked in a breath. “Yup.”

“So what did you get?”

He used his hand to rub your back, most likely trying to distract you from the make-shift interrogation going on while the two of you laid in bed. “A cinnamon roll.”

You lifted your head. “A cinnamon roll?”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you get me one?”

Your pregnancy brought around weird cravings for things that you never craved before— bagels and carrots and… cinnamon rolls.

He laughed, “You were sleeping.”

A wide smile crossed your face as you sat up, your baby bump hitting your legs as you crossed them. “I would have woken up for cinnamon rolls.”

“So you’d wake up for cinnamon rolls but not for me when I get home at night?”

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “Well if you brought home cinnamon rolls, it’d be a different story.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’d like a hug from my pregnant wife.”

“You’d think with your genius brain you’d understand that everything comes with a price.”

“Even if it’s just a hug?”

“I am carrying your child.”

He didn’t reply, a sly smile on his face as he nodded and looked away from you.

You take a throw pillow lying on the side of your bed, smacking him with it. “Spencer Walter Reid, what are you insinuating?”

“The fact that it takes a whole cinnamon roll for you to get out of bed to hug me makes me question… things,” he teased, a smug grin wiped across the bottom half of his face.

“If you keep talking like that then you leave me no choice but to withhold kisses and cuddles.”

His back straightened as he shot upwards, “What?” Your little girl stirred in your arms after his yelp.

His lips turned into a pout as he made grabby hands in your direction, pulling you into his chest and mumbling that he’d never let you go.

“I’ll bring you cinnamon rolls every day, I promise. Just for you, my love.”

A warm sensation spread through your chest, your heart pumping the tender feeling throughout your body.

“You better.”

“I will, as long as you don’t withhold kisses or cuddles or… other things.”

You giggled, kissing his cheek and pushing him back into bed.

It was moments like those that made your doubts and insecurities wash away with the tide of the ocean.

But further receding of the water only left promises of an even larger wave.

—————————————-

After Spencer left that morning with Rory in the backseat of his car, your brain began to ruminate on the possibility of Spencer’s possible infidelity.

You questioned his loyalty but you didn’t want to.

He was too suspicious with his constant sneaking out that had become a habit of his ever since the start of your pregnancy.

Spencer always calmed your insecurities that took over your thoughts, even before he knocked you up a second time. It had gotten worse as your stomach began to grow to accommodate the child inside you. He was always there to assure you that he loved you for you and nothing else.

But how could you believe him when he disappeared for two hours every day before the crack of dawn without a word?

You walked into the bullpen during Spencer’s lunch break, a break you knew he’d be gone for since he had specified that he was going out with Morgan.

All you wanted to do was ask Penelope if something was wrong at work or if he had shown signs of indignation for you or his resignation from being a field agent. You held a warm croissant in your hand, your feet making contact with the carpet of the bullpen.

Every step you took caused your mind and heart to race in parallelity, the palm of your hands beginning to sweat. You knocked on the door and entered the room as she made a muffled affirmative noise.

“Baby Momma Reid! Welcome to my batcave. Have a seat, my esteemed guest.”

You laughed, “Thank you. This is for you.”

She took the paper bag and looked inside before her eyes lit up. Penelope reached her hand in and savored the bite of the buttery pastry.

“So, what do I owe the honor of both your presence and a croissant?”

“I was wondering if we could talk… about Spencer.”

Her eyes flicked up to yours immediately. “What about him?”

“He’s been acting weird. You know, leaving bed at odd hours of the night and lying about his whereabouts occasionally.”

A contemplative look rested on her face, she wiped up the crumbs on her face and leaned back into her chair.

“Look, Y/N. Spencer loves you, he really does. I doubt he’s doing anything-”

You stopped her, closing your eyes to avoid what might be a fracture in your marriage. “I know that he’d never do anything. I just,” you sighed, “I just want to know if I did something to make him upset or leave or something. I don’t know.”

She gave you a pitiful look. “Well, he does keep a safe in a drawer under his desk.”

“A safe? Do you know what’s in it?”

“No. He’s pretty secretive about it.”

“Okay, thank you.” You offered her a smile and pushed open the door before she got a chance to say anything else.

There was a nagging feeling inside of you, hoping that he wasn’t hiding anything that needed to be hidden. It wouldn’t be hard to open it since the two of you had a universal agreement that ran throughout the start of your relationship. Every single code was a specific variation of the first day you met.

You punched it into the little safe you found in a drawer just like Penelope had said, finding that it wouldn’t open even after you entered the pattern of numbers three times over.

Why wasn’t it working?

You continued trying until your fingers refused to be still enough to enter the code on the silicone buttons. It may have been a menial detail to others but it was an important one to you.

There was a whole argument about it in the late stages of your relationship about remembering codes and passwords. He made a big deal about sticking to one so that your brain could remember.

He came up with a series of numbers that only the two of you could remember— the date of the day you first met combined with the address of the coffee shop you bumped into him in.

It was such a trivial little thing to be upset over.

But he hated change… and so did you.

—————————————-

Somehow, you managed to get into a fender bender right as you left the parking lot— not realizing that there was someone in front of you despite having your eyes glued to the road.

You made your way over to the hospital just to be sure that you, but mostly your baby, were alright. Somewhere in the mix-up, Spencer had been looped into the situation— sending you frantic messages about your health and how you were doing.

He hastily made his way over to the hospital room, completely dazed with a crazed look in his eye. He was bouncing around, asking nurses and other service providers for every single minute detail about your health and the state of your child.

It was adorable to watch him run into the room as a sea of questions were thrown into your ear. He would not stop asking you about how you were feeling or if something felt off.

He held your hand, refusing to let go. Spencer probably even looked more like a patient than you did, his face pale as he worried for you and your baby.

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“What if something’s wrong, what if something is wrong with the baby?”

“If something were wrong I think I’d feel it. Either way, they’re running tests so we’ll find out soon enough,” you reassured. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, rubbing a hand over your stomach as if he was holding your baby’s hand too.

You shouldn’t have been so distracted by such a minor dilemma. It was so insignificant but your mind refused to let it go no matter how irrational it was.

A knock on the door drew the two of you out of your head, lost in your thoughts.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reid,” she greeted, “Good news is that you and the little one are alright. Bad news is that your baby’s heart rate is a little higher than I’d like.”

You looked between the doctor and Spencer. “Wh- what does that mean?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Lots of things can cause an increase in heart rate including stress, which is the most likely factor. Try resting and keeping your own heart rate down, that’s your best bet of keeping this situation under control.”

You nodded, pressing your lips into a firm line as you awaited the onslaught of questions that would most definitely be coming from Spencer. You could let him know about your fears or completely disregard your questions— but that had already proven to affect you and your child negatively.

It was so hard for you to confront him about it. It was an illogical speculation without any evidence or factual support and you knew it. But a little part of your brain wouldn’t stop bugging you about it.

Your relationship with Spencer was established on a mutual understanding that the two of you could always share your feelings with the other no matter what.

But you didn’t know what was stopping you.

—————————————-

He shut the door behind you, sighing and grabbing a cup of water from the cupboard for you.

Spencer sat down beside you on the table and handed you the glass of water, looking you directly in the eye. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

You diverted your gaze from his, afraid that you’d crack under pressure. “Nothing, Spencer. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what? I- is it me, did I do something?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not.”

“Then what is it,” he grabbed your hands and took them in his, rubbing his thumbs over them tenderly, “J- just tell me and I can fix it. Anything for you.”

Your eyes started to water. “It’s really not a big deal, I- I’m probably just blowing everything out of proportions, Spence.”

“All your feelings are valid, just tell me what’s going on. What’s bothering you?”

You sucked in a breath, trying to prepare yourself for the worst— the worst being he was screwing someone else. “You’ve um, you’ve been leaving a bed a lot lately and I guess that I’m just worried that I’ve done something wrong.”

He wrinkled his eyes, the connection between your worries and his leaving not put together in his mind. It wasn’t until he looked straight at you with rounded eyes and a slightly opened mouth did he link the two.

“Y- you think I’m… cheating on you?”

“I- I don’t know, Spencer. All I know is that you’ve been spending less and less time with me in the morning and telling Rory not to let me know that you’re leaving.” He laughed as your forehead creased while you raised your eyebrows.

“Y/N,” he grinned, “I would never do something like that to you, ever. I love you and I love Rory and I love our little pumpkin. I would never give any of you up for anything.”

You bit your lip. “Then why are you leaving?”

“I um,” his eyes shifted from left to right, “I may have been going on coffee runs early in the morning so you wouldn’t find out.”

Your mouth fell open in complete shock. “You’ve been sneaking out in the morning so you wouldn’t lose our bet?”

You reached for the coffee machine with one hand as you tried your best to pour cereal for Rory with the other.

As you were about to push the button, Spencer smacked your hand away and unplugged the machine from the outlet.

“Spencer! I’m about to leave so I need my coffee now.”

He shook his head. “You know the drill. No coffee.”

“I can have a cup a day,” you pouted, sliding over the bowl of cereal over to Rory who was mindlessly coloring on the dining table.

“Nope. Not on my watch.”

You scoffed, “It’s easy for you to say, you can have coffee any time you want. I have to go 9 months without it.”

“You’re making it out to be harder than it really is,” he teased.

You walked up to him, pressing your body against him. “If you’re so confident that it’s easy, then why don’t you do it with me, hm?”

“You want me to stop drinking coffee with you?”

“Mhm. Is there a problem with that, Doctor?”

He shook his head, partially distracted by the direct eye line his eyes could follow down your shirt. “Nope.”

You stood on the tip of your toes, leaning your head upward to whisper in his ear. “What if you stopped doing other things with me? Would you be able to handle it then?”

“I don’t doubt it. The question is if you can handle it since it seems that you can never seem to keep your hands off of me.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know where you got that from.” You pushed him off of you and walked to plug in the coffee machine. Spencer managed to pull you back with your hands and corner you up against the edge of the countertop.

“I think the fact that I’ve managed to put a child in you twice is enough to show how much you want me.”

You leaned up and nipped his ear, “Last I checked, the process of making a child is a collaborative effort.”

“So you weren’t the one eager to get a call from me while I was on that one case?” he lifted your chin with his knuckle, “Do you want me to remind you of the way you begged for me to tell you what to do? How you pleaded for me to come home so you could derive satisfaction from me in person?”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you felt Spencer’s breath on your neck. The contact he was making with your tender skin sent shivers down your spine, and apparently transported the two of you to another world— completely forgetting that your 4-year-old daughter was in the same room.

You felt a slight tugging at your shirt. “Mommy, can you stop rubbing up against Daddy and fix my cereal. You forgot my bananas.”

You cleared your throat, trying to disperse the overwhelming feeling building up inside you. “Mhm, I can do that right now for you, hun.”

You could hear Spencer laughing behind you, feeling his eyes track you around the kitchen. You placed the bowl onto the table and tried your best to ignore the grinning bastard in the corner.

You tried your best to open the jar of jam from the fridge, grunting like a maniac to twist the lid open.

“You need some help with that?”

You didn’t even attempt to look over at him. “Nope, I got it.”

“Just like you got satisfying yourself without me while I was away on a case?”

You turned back to him, smiling and shoving the jar into his hands so he could open it. “You really need to stop, Spence. I’m still upset with you for not letting me drink coffee.”

“We can make a bet? Whoever breaks first has to change diapers for the first three months every single time.”

You folded your arms. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“If I can handle you when you’re all needy, then I can handle anything,” he laughed.

“I can’t believe you were trying to hide it from me. It makes me wonder what lengths you’re willing to go to get out of diaper changing,” you giggled.

He grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, carrying you bridal style into your bedroom. “I am a man of my word, scout’s honor.”

“‘Man of my word’ my ass, you slipped out of bed and left to drink coffee before I was even awake. Not to mention having Rory cover your tracks for you.”

He placed you down, gently— rolling over to the other side to cuddle you. “In my defense, I was only drinking coffee because I needed it to stay awake when you had me up all night rubbing your back and ankles.”

“You’re the one with the breeding kink, if you didn’t want to do any of that then you could have reigned in your carnal desires,” you joked.

He wiggled his head into yours, rubbing your stomach with his hands. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Well, you have to deal with the consequences now. The consequences being foot rubs, back massages, and a crap ton of cinnamon rolls.”

He brought the back of your hand up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on it. “Anything to gain your favor again, love.”

You leaned your head to the side so you’d have a better look at his face, making eye contact with his hazel eyes. “Wait, what’s in that safe in the bottom drawer of your desk?”

“The safe? H- how did you know about that?”

You pursed your lips and looked away, a glimmer of deviousness in your eye. “I may have asked Penelope for some insider information and snooped around a little.”

He laughed, “It’s some imported coffee beans that I use to make my special cup of coffee since the stuff they have in the breakroom is crap.”

Your eyes widened. “How long have you been drinking coffee in complete secrecy?”

“For a while now, I only lasted three days before I caved,” he confessed.

You slapped his arm jokingly. “You dick.”

He used a finger to poke your cheek that was puffed out through your lighthearted frustration. “You know, If you’re not too angry… I can make it up to you by doing something involving my dick.”

“I don’t think so, you have to pick up our daughter. So, stuff your horny little guy back in your pants and be on your merry little way.”

He pouted. “Little guy? It is by no means little, at least not according to the lewd noises you were making when I was using the ‘little guy’.”

You pushed him off of you, giggles falling from your lips. “Go, before we start the process of making our third baby right now.”

He sat up, flattening down his shirt while looking back at you with his signature ‘well actually’ face. “You know, we can’t really make a third baby, at least not while you’re currently-”

“Spencer,” you got up and physically pushed him out the door, “Go!”

He smiled and kissed you before shutting the door and walking out to the car. Just as he was about to open the car door, he yelled toward the open window that you were looking through.

“YOU KNOW I’M MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I CANNOT WAIT TO GET STARTED ON OUR THIRD ONE! I’M SURE IT WON’T TAKE LONG BUT WE CAN PROBABLY START PRACTICING ONCE I GET BACK HOME-”

You yell right back at him through the screen. “SPENCER, GO!”

“YOU’RE RIGHT, THE FASTER I GET BACK THE SOONER WE CAN GET START-”

You could feel your face heating up, walking away from the window and hoping that he’d stop relentlessly trying to embarrass you. You could hear him laughing and driving away in the next few moments as your heart fluttered with joy.

There was no reason to worry, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t give up for you.

—————————————-

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him.

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk.

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?”

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents.

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.

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oakskull · 4 years ago

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Guess who finished this illustration set,,

MEEEEEEE!!!

It's Cogchamp fnf sprites!!! I would have made a mod but unfortunately I don't have the right software to do so

Featuring such characters as

Tutorial Fox

5up.xtml

Brother Dearest

Tub and Crumb

Prime Bell

Um sir.

and last but not least, Sammy wants murder

These are weeks 1-4, and week 5 will be in a separate post bc of image limit(derogatory) and I worked really hard on this!! (more thoughts and stuff under the cut, I got kind of rambly haha)

It was super fun to draw in this style and I feel like I learned a lot about shading and shapes (shoes especially) by trying to recreate the style of a professional artist. I think I'll do more exercises like this in the future, just to keep learning!! Also obligatory reminder that these drawings are referenced HEAVILY from the original game sprites. I was trying to draw the cog champers(and dream) like they would be a mod for the game, so the poses and style are extremely similar if not the same. If I were to redo these illustrations I might put more personality and originality into the poses, but I didn't actually study the style at all before creating the first illustration (fundy, the one I posted here is actually a redraw to make him higher quality, the original was too small)

So yeah, over all, this was super fun and I'd definitely do it again. Maybe I'll redraw some of these in the future to be more creative, you can tell which ones I drew later on bc of the variety in poses and expressions, I was a lot more comfortable with the style (tho I did keep my own eyes and mouth style bc expressions are something thats really important to my style and I didn't want to feel like I was just like,, tracing) Sorry for rambling so long, I'll put this under a cut for all the people who just want to see pretty art.

On a more art related note, you may have noticed that Dream is Pico, you may be thinking "but dream isn't on Cogchamp" and you're Right. I didn't know what else to do okay? He's fundy's Ex so it kind of fits??? I dunno man, I gave him a more steam punk mask but kept the majority of his design similar to my normal dream design, so as to keep the Dream vibe. Yknow where he's always just a green blob? It kinda slaps tbh, branding is important.

Also regarding Prime Bell, again, I didn't know what else to do, I was thinking of doing something with the egg, but that's not on cogchamp (thank goodness) so I needed something else. I decided that the only like, tangentially related thing I could do was make an Evil prime bell, based on how Sam steals it idk maybe in this world its always the demon thing and is kinda like the ring from lord of the rings, where once you have it you can't give it up. In any case designing Prime Bell took a while (plus some help from Yipcord and Chaos Crew thx guys ❤ and specifically @valpurgatory who is what inspired me to personify the Prime Bell in the first place with their turn everything into a women philosophy (I @ed him so you can check out his blog he slaps. She's like the go to for saving women from Wilbur Soot's dirty mits)) but drawing it was surprisingly quick, mostly due to the fact that I figured out how to easily recreate the texture on the Lemon Monster's body. I did no shading bc that's what the Lemon monster looks like, and it kind of hurt bc it just looks kind of unfinished to me,,, I had some trouble with the week 5 design for Prime Bell bc I didn't want to abandon my first idea. I probably should have and would have gotten a better result, but I can't be bothered tbh. This is the 3rd day I'm working on this project (these were surprisingly quick the churn out, probably bc I was having a blast) and I simply do not want to alter anything. My idea was good but the execution didn't pan out. What am I saying the week 5 prime bell design isn't even on this post sjjdjsks

Anyway, go check out fnf(Friday Night Funkin) it's a rhythm game, it's free and the OST Slaps. I'd also highly recommend listening to the Whitty mod songs and the Neo mod songs,,,, good good music.

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russilton · 2 years ago

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i've been stalking your blog and both your fic snippets and artwork is so beautiful!! i was wondering if i will leave you notes is a finished fic? there was like one post abt it and it doesn't seem to be on ao3 (def already in love with the fic, no pressure if there isn't anything else sending lots of love!)

🥺 I love a good blog stalker, I’m so glad you like both the fics and art! I rlly love being able to do both, even if it triples my wips…

I will leave you notes is so close to finished! It’s the first fic I started writing for F1 RPF, way back in May! But it just kept growing, and I so want to finish it right because I love it so much.

The reason you only see it mentioned once is you’re the first to ask about it! I don’t like to post wips if I’m not sure anyone would like them hahah, not without prompt at least. And I will leave you notes has a slightly less exciting tag line bc it’s just a 2022 season get together fic all about how George and Lewis become more and more tactile with each other.

Additional fun fact: I wrote a whole scene of this sitting on a hill next to the wellington straight bridge at Silverstone when I went to watch Friday practice. Just so I could say that I did it lmao.

But since you’re here, I’ll give you the scene that started it all below the cut:

This first time Lewis touches George, it feels like lightning in his veins. Okay, it isn’t technically the first time, in years of being a Mercedes’ junior they had rubbed shoulders or been dragged into group pictures more than once, but those were accidental, fleeting brushes with no intent behind them.

This though is on purpose, a firm pat and a hand sliding down his arm as Lewis crouches next to where George is squeezed into the mock car for a test seat fitting. His hand is heavy and warm, stopping on George’s wrist and grounding him in a way that shouldn’t be possible. George can barely hear what various engineers are trying to point out to him over the pounding of blood in his ears. Voices fade into the background of George’s periphery, his attention too caught up in the soft tone of Lewis’s voice so close now, the smell of his cologne overpowering. It should make George wince, being this overstimulated, but instead he focuses on trying to take inconspicuous breaths, not too deep, but just enough to draw the smell into his nose.

When his ears stop ringing and he can hear Lewis properly again, he realises he’s supposed to be figuring out if the seat is rubbing anywhere. He thinks of the last time he was in a Mercedes’ seat, cramped tight, feet bruised and knuckles bleeding from trying to perform for the team and himself in Lewis’ crushing absence, the sides of the cockpit not the only thing pressing down on his shoulders. He didn’t get to speak to Lewis after, too caught up in the end of the season, and plagued by guilt-laced frustration. It didn’t feel right to seek him out either, when Lewis was clearly struggling with recovery and probably wouldn’t have appreciated George telling him how much he loved driving his car. The bruises on his calves were a reminder enough of how close he’d been.

This is a world away, the team is already trying to estimate his frame, but he misses the pain somewhat, because he remembers the emotion that came with it. Even a year later he thinks about Bahrain often. Dragging himself out of his memory he forces himself to listen properly to what Lewis is telling him.

“Make sure you shift about, really get a feel for the seat, and tell the team everything. Something that isn’t too bad right now will feel a hell of a lot different after 2 hours, especially towards the front of the grid”

Lewis winks at him then, and George fights the urge to shiver and hopes the flush climbing his cheeks will be written off as excitement. The older Brit is just being friendly, but George feels hero worship and something he doesn’t want to label, churning inside him. Shoving that to the back of his mind to unpack later when he doesn’t have multiple sets of eyes on him, he lets the larger reality of what’s happening set in. This is his seat, he’s in his dream car, next to the greatest driver in the world. He lets a giddy grin overtake him and laughter bubble in his chest.

When his eyes flick to Lewis, he gets a blinding smile back, and George feels that fragile, unlabelled feeling grow. He wants to bottle this feeling, but it’s over quickly, Lewis moving on to talk to senior engineers and machinists about the new car. All George can do is try to focus on what Shov is trying to tell him. It’s not like he won’t see Lewis again, they work together now.

#britcedes #gewis #4463 #asks #mark’s fic tag #anonymous #i will leave you notes

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ackerfics · 4 years ago

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hi! i don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are would you be interested in a soulmate au with mikasa. i adore soulmates au a lot! mikasa x fem!reader (aot cast reincarnated into the modern world and they get to have a happy and not stressful life)

she is half of my soul, as the poets say — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (soulmate au)

— warnings: none, just fluff

— summary: you finally found each other.

— word count: 3.2k

— author’s notes: thank you so much for the request !! i hope you enjoy reading this because i had a blast putting this all together. plus, i couldn't help but place a quote from 'the song of achilles' bc that was a masterpiece.

Underwater.

Your surroundings were submerged in the depths of the ocean to you.

The professor in front of the lecture hall continued his lesson in a cacophony of white noise. The occasional flipping of textbooks and the clacking of the keyboard droned, a majority of the students tried taking down what the middle-aged man was reciting. You should be doing those, too, but there was something about your day that made you want to skip class and bury yourself in a mound of blankets. The air-conditioning wasn’t helping at all, it just made you drift away, even more, images of flying people and humanoid giants flickering through your mind. Even your vision was becoming blurry as you stared at the seat in front of you, not noticing how your Ethics professor dismissed your class with a reminder of the paper that was due the following week. You were still seated as most of the students stood up, eager to spend the rest of their day inside their dormitories and apartments.

“[Name].” Somebody called out to you but the raw feeling of swinging in midair acted like a bubble, keeping you from going back to reality. The voice groaned in frustration at your lack of response. “Earth to [Name]! Hey, wake up!”

You shook out of your stupor with a blink, turning your head slowly at the person waiting for you. You took in her casual attire, so different from the daydream you were in. At first, you didn’t know about your whereabouts, making you look around the lecture hall — empty except for the two of you and the professor at front. The feeling of confusion once again dominated your sound mind as you breathed out, “Where am I? I thought I was just outside in this desert and I was surrounded by people who were crying like they were a hopeless case. Then there was someone screaming my name, saying they wouldn’t let me go.”

The person pursed their lips, concerned and slightly creeped out at the nonsense coming out of your mouth. There weren’t any deserts near you right now because you two were in the middle of the city, inside a university. The way you phrased those words sounded like a plot from an apocalyptic movie you were bound to binge during academic breaks. There were accounts scattered around the internet about reincarnation that the person drank in the early hours of dawn when they couldn’t go to sleep but witnessing it in front of them, was another whole level of conspiracy theories. A hand was planted on your shoulder, your friend smiling sympathetically at you, knowing that you sometimes have these episodes inside your shared apartment. The look you gave them was enough to erase the wariness bubbling in your friend’s stomach, which spurred them to gather your things and placing them inside your backpack. Your friend worked in silence, however, they were aware of the stare you never took off from the side of their head.

“In case you don’t remember me,” your friend looked up at you with a twinkle of mischief in their irises, “I’m Hitch and I’m your roommate.” She was speaking to you as if you were a toddler, something that made annoyance tickle your chest.

“Hitch?” You mumbled, looking down on your lap for a solid minute until you gasped out loud, the sound echoing inside the lecture hall without any warning. The professor looked up from his seat, glare already in place at the disruption you caused. You buried your face in your hands, face erupting in hues of red because of the embarrassment creeping in your throat. “Oh, my God, don’t tell me I did it again.”

Hitch nodded with a shrug. “I mean, I’m used to your episodes but it always amazed me how you wake up from them all disoriented.” Finishing with her task of tidying your bag, she pulled on your arm. “I think I should record whatever you say next time, this could be my viral moment.” When you gave her a dry glare, she laughed. “Oh, come on, think of the possibilities! But pushing that aside, let’s have dinner first.”

“Hitch, it’s only four in the afternoon.”

She scoffed lightheartedly. “We can always have a midnight snack later. Right now, I’m craving something savory.” The two of you went outside the lecture hall’s door, not missing the look of relief from your Ethics professor as you linked your arm with Hitch’s. She turned to you expectantly. “Any ideas for dinner, bub?”

There was a churning feeling inside your stomach, very much like those life-and-death situations during exams where you rely on your gut for the correct answer if the test includes multiple-choice questions. This time, instead of the nagging voice telling you to encircle the first choice, your gut was telling you to head to the café near your university. Aside from their famous coffee blends and teas (the latter being one of their specialties), the café houses a variety of dishes in its menu, which doesn’t make them a café anymore but the owner still insisted that they’ll be known as that establishment. It was more of a restaurant than your regular coffee shop, making it a hit among the students in the University of Eldia, where a majority of the student body was either caffeine-dependent or reliant on fast food take-outs. The quaint café owned by Levi Ackerman was the perfect solution to yours and Hitch’s grumbling stomachs.

“How about the café just outside of uni?” You suggested, hoping that Hitch will consider the idea.

The said girl hummed, a finger placed on her chin. “The one owned by that grumpy short-stack?”

“Hey, that’s rude.”

Hitch shrugged without care, hoisting her tote bag up to her shoulder. “Even his cousin calls him that, you know?” At your raised eyebrow, all Hitch could do was laugh at your adorable, clueless expression. Between the two of you, the light-haired girl was the social butterfly in your friendship and you wouldn’t be surprised if she even had an inkling of the gossips happening around your year level.

“Relax, his cousin is a good person (that is if she doesn’t kill you with her blank stare), along with their little friendship circle. I must say, all of them look so adorable. You remember Annie, right?” She continued when she saw you nod, the mention of the blonde made you remember your time when the three of you shared your apartment. It was a good kind of chaotic, the three of you balancing out each other’s personalities. Annie was always the indifferent one, Hitch the most sociable, and you being the mediator of the two. “She’s dating one of Mikasa’s friends, Armin. Mikasa is the cousin, by the way, and I can clearly see the resemblance between her and the café’s owner. With the permanent scowl and all.”

“Uh-huh.”

You didn’t know what to do with the information so you only hummed and nodded your head every time Hitch spewed out a couple of trivia involving people you have heard down the hallways or being called during roll-calls. She even told you how one of Mikasa’s friends, Sasha Braus, was reprimanded for eating inside the class of an infamous terror teacher, which landed the girl on that professor’s blacklist. The girl, Sasha, was actually in one of your classes but you never really talked to her, all of your attention poured out into absorbing what the teacher relayed in the class. All of Hitch's ramblings spanned the entirety of your walk to the café — a talent your roommate has that amazed you every time it happened.

The smell of cinnamon greeted you once you stepped inside the café, the homey decorations making your heart warm in an instant. There were a couple of college students in separate tables, all of them draping their textbooks and readings in front of them, headphones plugged in despite the soothing background music brought by the café’s speakers. Now that you mention it in your head, midterms were coming up in a month and you hadn’t started organizing your revisions. As your mind was filled with the scent of flowers and coffee, Hitch tugged on the sleeves of your blouse, your light-haired friend wordlessly gesturing her head towards one of the empty tables overlooking the window showing the small garden beside the café. You nodded and flashed a thumbs-up, already knowing what Hitch’s order is the number of times she went home with take-outs from this establishment.

Thinking that you should order something for a change, you looked up at the menu board above the counter. With your order listed in your mind, you faced the person manning the counter, ready to relay your order to her. What greeted you, though, wasn’t a smiling cashier, instead, wide gray eyes stared at you with a slacked jaw — irises flecked with an emotion that sent your heart lurching inside your chest. She was a tall girl with muscles in the right places, black hair styled in a pixie cut that made you appreciate her features more. You faintly recalled that she was in one of your majors, which should explain the air of familiarity surrounding her. Her hands on the small notepad hovered over the current lilac paper, her posture rod straight as her breath hitched while staring into you. You weren’t sure what made her react like that so you slightly tilted your head back to look at the booths behind you. Hitch caught your eyes, raising her eyebrow in a silent question. Facing the counter attendant again, you were shocked to see that star-like tears were decorating her eyelashes, chapped lips wobbly.

It felt like you’ve seen that expression too many times but you were sure this was the first time you saw her face to face.

“Oi, Mikasa, why are you stalling?” A short black-haired man entered the space behind the counter, arms crossed and gaze questioning as he took in the breaking form of his employee. “It’s been a full minute and you still didn’t take the customer’s order.”

“Can I stay in the breakroom for a while?”

Your breath was taken away at the sound of her voice. It sounded like all four seasons were present in the soft-spoken tone she carried, very different from her tough physical appearance. You were left staring at her back, chest nearly bursting open because of how fast your heart pounded just from that sentence. Images of late-night trysts played in your head; of secret kisses that created an ocean of emotions inside you; of eyes looking at each other with tendrils of hope before the gates open, death beckoning you in its arms; of desperate promises, neither person could ever keep. All of them were so familiar and nostalgic that a swarm of butterflies was starting to infest your ribs and chest, sprouting flowers that clogged your throat from speaking.

Levi glanced at you, eyes analyzing your form with a hint of concern for his relative and wondering what made Mikasa act like that. “Sure, go ahead, brat, your friends are at the back. Hello, ma’am, I’ll be taking your order.”

“Oh, sure,” you murmured before beginning to list down the food you and Hitch will be indulging in, eyes curiously staring at the girl going inside the breakroom. “Uhm, is she going to be alright?” You tried asking Levi, who only looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “It looks like she had a fright here.”

“It’s the first time I saw her in that state, to be honest,” Levi simply answered, with no room for other discussions. “Your drinks will be served shortly.” He gave you a small gadget, his pointer finger pushing a button on the device, making it light up in a blinding red. “Once your drinks are ready, this will light up and you can get it here on the counter. Thank you for your patronage.”

“Thank you, too.”

It was only when you seated yourself in front of Hitch that you realized Mikasa’s voice sounded like the one always shouting your name in your daydreams, failing to keep the promise of never letting you go.

Mikasa was a mess.

First, before waking up for her 7 A.M. class one autumn day, she was haunted by the memories of her previous life (or this is what Armin told her, with him also remembering being born again from a different timeline, another universe altogether rather). In that more outdated version of this world, they were on the constant grapple with these beings called Titans. Her dreams became more complex the more time passed by as these Titans disappeared, replacing with it a looming war between two countries. Her daydreams always resulted in tear-stained cheeks, eyes then finding her best friend who started a mass genocide in their previous lives, Eren. When Mikasa remembered that part of her last life, she would often find herself staring deeply at the side of Eren’s head, resulting in the brown-haired man complaining about her soulless eyes. It looked like Eren didn’t remember it, which nearly drove Mikasa mad.

Until that day Eren came up to her after a three-hour lecture, all haggard with his man-bun in disarray, and shouting, “I’m so sorry for laughing at you, Mikasa! I had a dream during a lecture of those titan things you and Armin are talking about. I believe you!”

Second, the warmth of somebody was a constant in balancing out the horrors of her daydreams. Among the carnage, a body fitting against hers with the morning rays passing through the slit of the windows was a sight she didn’t want to wake up from. Threads of soft hair tickled her cheek, making way for an unforgettable shade of irises that she compared to the crystals they found underneath the Reiss estate. A smile so vibrant that it paled in comparison to the blue expanse of unknown waters they saw after killing all the Titans in Paradis. The smell of freshly picked flowers lingered in the air, acting like the comforting blanket Mikasa had when she was young. At first, she couldn’t see the face of the person but as the episodes became more vivid, Mikasa finally saw the woman of her dreams.

Pulchritudinous — that’s what you are.

After that encounter with you in the café, Mikasa immediately talked everything out with her two friends.

“So you’re saying that you kind of knew her but you don’t?” Eren pointed out after a spoonful of ice cream. “This is some conspiracy theory shit right here.”

“Eren,” Armin sighed. “This is not one of those videos you watch at 3 A.M., okay?” The blonde glanced at the last member of their little trio, who was pacing in front of them with a queasy expression on her face. “Mikasa, I know you feel like you’re in a pinch but please calm down.”

Eren leaned forward and took a spoonful of ice cream from the tub on the low table. “It’s no use, Armin. You know Mikasa.” He nodded his head towards the said girl. “Once she enters that state, we can’t do anything about it.”

“I know,” Armin trailed off, dejected.

Mikasa buried her hands through her hair. “This was so unexpected.”

“Clearly,” Eren dryly stated.

The blue-eyed boy beside him instantly hit the back of his head. “Eren!”

Mikasa stopped pacing, not hearing how Eren exclaimed ‘finally’, her face and neck erupting in a warm shade of red that made her two friends exchange a concerned glance. Placing a hand on her pounding chest, she murmured with half-lidded eyes, “She’s much more beautiful than my dreams depicted her to be.”

Armin breathed out a silent ‘oh’ while Eren snickered, “Great, she turned into a simp,” to which the former slapped another hand at the back of the green-eyed boy’s head.

“That explains it,” the black-haired girl exclaimed. “There were times where a voice inside my head tells me to be at this specific place at a specific time.” (“I’m concerned,” Eren stage-whispered to Armin.) “While applying for this university, I had a feeling that I should take up medical sciences. Every time I’m at the campus, I will always find myself in the library after five o’clock and there are instances that I would search the tables. And you guys know how I hate helping Levi in the café.” Eren and Armin nodded as if they were children. “I just realized that she was always there, I can see her now. Why did I miss her when all this time, I was meant to find her? And now that she’s finally in the café right when I told Levi that I felt like helping the shop, I ran away! I’m such an idiot!” Mikasa then sunk on one of the plush chairs, her groans mingling with the gloomy atmosphere she created.

“You’re not an idiot, Mikasa,” Armin told her, to which she replied with an aggravated groan.

“Yeah, you’re not an idiot, you’re just having a gay panic moment,” Eren casually announced. Both of his friends slowly turned their heads toward him. He stared right back, blinking as he shrugged. “You have to admit, I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not helping right now.”

“I’m just stating a fact, Armin!”

The blonde boy rolled his eyes. “So what are you going to do about this, Mikasa?”

“About Eren?”

“No,” Armin shook his head. “Eren will be fine with his two brain cells.”

“Hey, I’m right here.”

Armin rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze on his gray-eyed best friend. “So are you going to tell [Name] that you two are star-crossed lovers pre-destined since your previous lives?”

The confidence she gained the day before during that conversation with her childhood friends dissipated as Mikasa awkwardly stood in the middle of the university’s library, eyes widely staring at you, who was browsing the shelves for the reference material for your papers. She didn’t expect to meet you this suddenly. All she was supposed to do was borrow a reference material and there she realized that the two of you share the same major so most of your schedule line up with one another — the both of you share a free period. Almost as if you were surrounded by a magnetic field, Mikasa went in your direction, her heart matching her footsteps. Meters became feet as she looked at your captivating figure. Even with a shirt tucked inside a pair of jeans, you are still the most beautiful girl inside the library.

And as you lifted your gaze, your glinting irises meeting her gray ones, Mikasa swore her orbit was waiting for this moment to be tilted to you.

Tears were immediately present in your eyes when she stood in front of you, it was as if you remembered her.

“Hey,” Mikasa breathed shakily, hands gripping the strap of her backpack.

“Hey, starlight.”

That nickname. The one you blurted out when Mikasa invited you stargazing in the meadow beside the Survey Corps Headquarters. You said it suited her because her eyes reminded you of the glow of the stars forming a canopy above you. But for her, you were brighter than any star in the sky, you were an entire cosmos altogether. “You became a part of me the moment I laid my eyes on you in our town. Right then and there — wherever you go, I’ll go. Because I know, I’m a part of you as well.”

“You finally found me.”

You are half of her soul, as the poets say, and the Fates will do everything in their power that it stays like that for eternity.

#aot #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #soulmate au #rorywrites #new aot writing blog #mikasa

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extratragic · 4 years ago

Text

hold you

pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

warnings: lil bit of language. not much of a fight but a little bit? and insecurities. some mentions of sex.

word count: 1970

request: hey! I don't know if you are taking requests right now but if you are could you do a JJ one where the reader is insecure or thinks she’s overweight and they get in a fight bc JJ doesn't understand? like maybe he tries to pick her up or she won't sit on his lap? if you arent doing requests sorry! I love your writing xx

To say JJ was confused was an understatement. No, he was fucking perplexed, and he didn’t even know what that word meant. He heard you say it when the group found out that John B and Sarah were dating and he thought it was a funny word.

The day started off great. For him, at least.

For you, it started off horribly, but you tried to play it off and keep JJ from noticing.

Today was a day that everyone would be out on the boat. No one had to work and everyone was ready to spend a day with each other and relax. John B even prepped the boat the night before because he was so excited.

JJ woke you up by kissing you all over your face. Usually, waking up like that would make you feel amazing already, but you only enjoyed it for a minute before a switch flipped. JJ left the bed and the smile was wiped off of your face and your heart felt heavy.

“Baby! John B might strangle us if we’re not there in fifteen minutes!” JJ called from the bathroom.

You slowly stood up and went to your closet, quickly finding your favorite high waist bottoms and a cute top. JJ walked in before you could slip on one of his shirts.

“Damn, my girlfriend is so hot,” he sighed, leaning against the door.

You smiled weakly and put on a pair of jean shorts and one of the many t-shirts that he left at your house. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. It was like something went off in your brain and told you to suck in your stomach. Thankfully JJ didn’t notice the feeling and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Yeah. Are you?” He asked.

“Just need a few minutes,” you told him, getting out of his arms and going to the bathroom to finish getting yourself together.

When the two of you got to John B’s house with blankets and beers, it was easy to see that John B was excited for a day out on his boat with his friends. Kie and Pope showed up a few minutes later with more alcohol and snacks. John B didn’t hesitate to take off after everyone was situated.

“Wanna swim?” JJ asked you.

The boat had been anchored for a few minutes and the other three were already in the water, splashing each other and trying to dunk each other.

“Maybe later. I, uh, wanna tan,” you told him.

He nodded and pecked your lips before jumping into the water. You took a deep breath and looked down at your body, scrunching up your nose. You loved Kie to death, but being around her in a swimsuit made you feel uncomfortable. She had the perfect body in your eyes, and you didn’t.

It was hard to feel good about yourself when your best friend looked like that.

While the other four swam around the boat, you took your shorts off and laid on the bow of the boat while you were alone. It’d made awkward tan lines, but the shirt was staying on.

“Y/N! Get in!” Pope yelled.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, seeing JJ and Pope leaning against the boat and smiling at you.

“I don’t really feel like getting in the water today. I’m okay up here,” you told them.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Kie said, popping up beside JJ.

Your stomach churned when you saw how her arm rested over your boyfriends, but you ignored the feeling.

“Next time,” you said, smiling tightly.

Kie and Pope gave up, letting go of the boat and swimming over to John B again. JJ pulled himself up and got back onto the boat, walking over to you.

“JJ, I’m fine, really. Go have fun,” you sighed.

He laid down beside you, sliding his hand under the shirt you still had on and lazily running his fingers over your skin. You were very thankful that laying on your back made your stomach feel flat.

“Are you really, sweet girl?” He questioned.

You nodded, happily kissing him back when he pressed his lips to yours. He slid his hand down from your stomach and gripped your thigh, tugging on it to pull it over his waist but you stopped him.

“They could come back,” you told him.

He groaned and laid his head on your shoulder, keeping his hand on your leg. The feeling of his hands on you typically made you feel great, but now it was making it nervous. The only thoughts inside your mind revolved around him feeling too much and not thinking you were skinny enough. You knew about his crush on Kie before the two of you met, and it scared the hell out of you.

“Lay on me,” he told you.

“What?” You asked.

“Lay on me. I like holding you,” he shrugged.

Your heart was racing. You shook your head and he tried pulling on your leg, but you sat up quickly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sitting up beside you and putting his hand on your back.

“I’m fine. Just don’t feel well,” you muttered.

“C’mere then. I’ll hold you,” he said.

“I don’t- I don’t wanna be held, JJ. I just wanna lay by myself,” you told him.

He frowned and brought his hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You said that you love it when I hold you when you don’t feel good,” he said quietly.

He sounded hurt when he said that, and it felt like someone punched you in the gut. You didn’t want to make him feel bad because you felt bad. JJ was a touchy boyfriend, always having his hand on your leg or his arm around you. People usually saw you sitting on his lap at any party. He wasn’t used to not touching you.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just too hot right now. Maybe when we get back,” you told him.

He nodded and walked away from you, getting back into the water.

It didn’t get any better after that. JJ sat far away from you on the way back to the Chateau. When the boat docked at John B’s house, JJ quickly went into the house and was the first to shower.

You waited in the spare room while he showered, hoping to talk to him when he got out. It was never easy getting JJ to talk when he was hurt, especially when you were the reason behind his hurt. When he walked into the room, he acted like you weren’t even there.

“JJ,” you sighed, grabbing his hand.

He pulled his hand away from yours, going back to looking in the drawers for a new outfit.

“JJ, talk to me,” you told him as he put on his clothes.

“About what, y/n?” He snapped.

“Why you’re so angry! So what if I didn’t want you to hold me? It’s not a big deal, JJ!” You exclaimed.

“It feels like a big deal when you keep doing it! This is the fourth time this week! If you- fuck. If you want to break up then just tell me,” he told you, his voice cracking at the end.

You felt like someone was squeezing your heart. You never wanted your insecurities to end up hurting JJ. His eyes were welling up with tears and he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the end.

“I love you, JJ. I would never break up with you,” you said quietly.

“Then what the hell is going on with you? Is it my fault? Did someone do something to you?” He questioned.

He knew that you were insecure about your body. When the two of you started dating, it was easy for him to see how you tried to hide your body from everyone. You never wore slightly revealing clothes and all of your swimsuit bottoms were high or mid-rise.

“Remember the first time we went swimming after we got together?” You asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows but nodded, confused. “You kept trying to keep me away from you.”

You nodded and he sighed, sitting down on the bed beside you.

“How long have you felt like this, baby?” He asked.

“I dunno. It started a few weeks ago, it’s just been worse the last few days,” you shrugged.

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart so he could kneel between them with his hands on your hips. You gasped at the sudden move, moving back when he opened your legs.

“Listen to me. Medically, you’re not overweight. You’re actually probably underweight. And in my eyes, you’re so perfect. I mean, shit, come here,” he told you, standing quickly.

You laughed lightly at his quick movements, standing up and stumbling around until he was standing in front of the mirror you brought here a long time ago. He made sure you were standing in front of him as he wrapped his arms around your waist, putting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m gonna tell you everything that I love about your body, okay? Cool. We’re gonna start with your hair. First of all, it’s soft as hell. I love running my fingers through it, and I know that you love it when I pull on it,” he said, making you blush.

“And your whole face is the cutest and hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Your eyes are so pretty. Your nose is the perfect size so it doesn’t bump into mine when we kiss. And your lips,” he chuckled, kissing your jaw. “I am addicted to kissing you, sweet girl. The way you talk is beautiful, and don’t even get me started on how they look when they’re wrapped around my-”

“Stop,” you grinned, slapping his arm.

He grinned and kissed your jaw again.

“Your neck looks so pretty with my hand wrapped around it. Looks even better with hickeys, yeah?” He whispered, dragging his lips across the skin of your neck.

You sighed and laid your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Not yet, sweet girl. Look at yourself,” he told you.

You whined and lifted your head, looking in the mirror again.

“I love your arms. I love how you’re stronger than you look and how hot you look when you throw a punch. I don’t wanna get you too worked up, so I’ll just tell you that I love your boobs a lot and I could get off to just them alone.”

You giggled and he grinned proudly.

“Your stomach is my second favorite pillow. Second to the body parts previously stated. I love how you always let me lay with my head on your belly whenever I want to. I love your hips and how well you work them. I love your legs and how they look when you work out around me and how good they look when you’re tanning or swimming. I love your ass for many reasons. It’s my third favorite pillow and my second favorite view when I’m fucking you.”

“JJ,” you laughed, hitting his arm again.

He kissed your cheek, moving one of his hands up to gently cup your jaw, making sure you kept facing the mirror.

“I skipped a body part,” he whispered.

“I heard how much you love that body part last night,” you giggled.

He laughed lightly and nodded. He looked into your eyes through the reflection, taking pride in the way they sparkled like they didn’t before. The smile on your lips made him feel like he was on top of the world.

“I love you and your body,” he told you.

“I love you, Maybank,” you smiled.

#jj outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #obx jj maybank #imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx #request

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years ago

Text

Misfortune On A Flight

Request: Hi! Can you please write some period angst and fluff? I, For one, get very irritated and frustrated during periods, because of all the pain, vomiting, body weakness, no appetite. I would love to see some Jensen fluff here and angst also bc I read your stories earlier, and I love the way you write angst!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’m sorry I took so long, anon! Hope you like this!

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 1651

❅ ❅ ❅

The plane ride back home from Vancouver was one of the worst of your life. To being with you weren’t a morning person and the flight was at 4am. It also didn’t help that you were due for your period soon and the cramps were slowly starting to set in. You always got snippy and irritable during this time and Jensen more often than not ended up taking the brunt of it. But this time however, Jensen snapped back at your attitude, causing the two of you to get into a full blown fight right before leaving. He had been quite tired thanks to a rigorous shooting schedule and the exhaustion made him just as irritable and forgetful about what time of the month it was for you.

You took the window seat staring outside, trying your best to stave off the uncomfortably sick feeling seeping into you. Your body was tensed up and not to mention your emotions were all out of whack and all you wanted was to get back home and hide under the blankets until this passed. Jensen was beside you asleep. He hadn’t said a word to you the whole time and it was bugging you. But you were both too stubborn.

Just as you got comfortable in your seat ready to fall asleep a sharp cramp hit you, along with the telltale sign of blood flowing into your underwear. You sat upright flinching in pain. You quietly got out from your row, first class giving you plenty of space to not wake Jensen, and made your way to the bathroom with you handbag. You did what needed to be done and were upset by the fact that your favourite underwear was now ruined. But just as you were about to leave the toilet, a dizzy spell hit you. Your hand slammed against the wall while the other clutched onto your stomach to stave off the oncoming cramp.

There was a knock on the door, “Ma’am are you alright?” An air hosted asked, having heard a noise.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? You looked a little sick earlier.”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.” You said, trying not to cry. This was getting to be one of the worst mornings ever.

Once you had calmed down, you got out the toilet and gave a small smile to the kind lady worried about you and made your way back to your seat. Jensen was awake by now and he looked up at you.

“Where were you? you were gone for a while.” He asked.

“Toilet.” You snapped at him.

He rolled his eyes at your behaviour, “Jesus, Y/N what’s your problem? You’ve been acting like a brat ever since you woke up.” He was glaring at you slightly.

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him, “Just leave me alone, Jensen.” You mumbled looking out the window. You heard him scoff and go back to his book.

You didn’t understand why you were so angry at Jensen. It wasn’t his fault that he was pissed at you. But right now all you wanted to do was be mad at him, but at the same time as you felt more and more sick, you wanted his arms around you. You didn’t realise that a tear had escaped from your eyes and you were trying really hard to not let out a sob. It didn’t help that the dizzy spell was back, making your stomach churn. You shut your eyes tight, as one of the worst cramps rolled through you, and you let out a tiny gasp. You felt a hand on your shoulder making you tense up.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jensen asked, worriedly.

You couldn’t talk, you knew if you opened your mouth you’d puke. You just sat there shaking your head, shrugging his hand off your shoulder.

“Baby, do you need some water? You need to talk to me, Y/N. I’m worried.” He was on the edge of his seat, desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

You suddenly sat upright wide eyes, looking around for the barf bag provided to all passengers. You were shaking badly, your face clammy and sickly looking. Jensen finally understood what was about to happen and pulled out the bag from the seat in front of him. You grabbed it and threw up into it. You felt him rub your back, holding your hair back.

“It’s okay, I got you. Just let it out.” You heard him whisper.

Once you were finished, you rolled the bag and with Jensen’s help you made your way back to the toilet to dispose it and clean up. He waited outside till you were done and then walked you back to your seats. You curled up in yours shivering badly, which made Jensen reach for your hand luggage in the over head compartments to get a jacket for you.

“C-can you also get me some pain killers?” You asked him softly without making eye contact.

“Of course, honey.” He said pulling out some. He called the air hostess and asked for a bottle of water. He thanked her when she handed it to him and gave you the pills before opening the bottle for you.

You took the pills and settled down, waiting for them to do their job. Jensen noticed you were holding back your tears. He lifted the armrest between the two of you and pulled you close to him, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. This is what you needed.

“You got your periods, didn’t you?” He asked softly. To which he felt you nod against him. “Why didn’t you say anything, baby? Is that why you’ve been so snippy?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a brat today.”

“No, baby I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner.” He sighed. “Are the pills working?”

Just as he asked you gasped out in pain. It was the strongest cramp yet, making your cry and hold onto him harder.

“Okay, clearly not working.” He mumbled pulling you closer. “I got you, honey. It’s going to be ok.”

“Jay, I want to go home!” You cried.

“I know, Y/N. We are going home. I know you’re uncomfortable and emotional right now, but I’m right here.”

Hearing you cry, the kind air hostess from earlier came over, “Is there anything you need?”

You were sniffling and tears streamed down your cheeks onto his shirt. Despite Jensen’s warmth and your jacket you were still shaking. He was rubbing your arm to keep you warm, but decided that you needed a blanket.

“Can we please get a blanket? She’s not feeling well.” He asked politely.

“Of course! Anything else?” She asked to which he shook his head.

She brought over a blanket handing it over to him and left. Jensen wrapped you up in it, making sure you were tucked in comfortably. Your shaking had gone down and you were close to falling asleep.

An hour later they were distributing breakfast. Jensen shook you awake. “Baby, breakfast is here. You gotta wake up.” He whispered in your ear.

“Mmm, I’m not hungry.” You said snuggling into him eyes still closed.

“You barely had a proper dinner, Y/N.”

“Don’t feel good, Jay. Just wanna sleep.” You said. Your stomach was churning again just thinking about something to eat. But you could hear the worry in Jensen’s voice. He was always very protective over you, but even more so during this time since he knew how much you suffered.

“Just a few bites ok? For me.” He pleaded, sitting you up gently. He thanked the girl handing him the food and helped you unpack yours before he started on his.

“I can do it” You said embarrassed that you were treated like a child.

He kissed your temple and said, “Let me take care you, honey. I know how tired you are.”

You accepted his help, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You could barely eat a couple of bites before you felt nauseous again. You pushed your plate away and leaned your head back, wincing in pain as a cramp hit you.

“I can’t” You managed to get out, tearing up again. Man, you felt so weak and embarrassed. All you did was cry the whole time.

Jensen sighed and took your full plate and his empty one, handing it to the person collecting them.

“Do you have to puke again?” He asked worriedly.

“Don’t think so. It just hurts a lot.”

“Come here” He said, pulling you closer once again, but this time resting his hand on your stomach rubbing it. His large hand gave the right amount of pressure, elevating the pain a little.

“Feels better, Jay. Thank you.” You said.

“Good.” He kissed your head. “You should’ve told me you were going to get your periods. I could’ve postponed the flight to when you were better.”

“I thought I had a couple of days, Besides, you were excited about going back home to Austin and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“Y/N, you’re my home. Your comfort is my priority. I would’ve happily stayed back in Vancouver if it meant you’d be more comfortable.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I made you mad at me.”

He lifted your chin up and kissed you on your lips slowly. “Not your fault baby. Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you, Jay.”

“I love you too, Y/N” He said, puling out his ear phones. He handed you one, putting on the other and played your favourite songs to keep you distracted. You had another couple of hours until you landed, and Jensen did his best to help you through your pain. You both fell asleep cuddled up as comfortably as you could.

❅ ❅ ❅

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