#you could pay people to fix the roads

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My favorite quarry has been closed, which sucks because it's a great place to let my dog swim (her favorite thing to do). I finally remembered to look up what's going on. The city is spending 6mi to make it bougie. It's a fucking 100 year old quarry. It's purpose is for trashy people to go get wasted and jump off the 200ft cliff and die. They're completely paving over the entire thing and adding in, like, concessions and bathrooms and shit. And I'm normally ok with improvements. Bathrooms are definitely something I like to see at parks. But these aren't normal bathrooms. It's a bunch of single stalls that cost probably 20k each to build when you could also just build a normal toilet for 5k.... The whole project reeks of waste. Meanwhile, I'm out here driving on roads so piss poor that I've experienced better driving conditions in Mexico. I've driven on washed out country gravel roads that don't jostle me around so much. My car is so fucked from how bad the roads are. There's also a growing homeless problem because we're rated one of the least affordable cities in the nation due to TN having beef with paying much more than $13/hr but your average rent here being $1600/mo. But that's ok! We'll continue ignoring all that and spend a whole fuck ton improving a park (and by that I mean stripping it of everything that makes it cool). I can't do math to save my life, but I know for goddamn sure I'd do a hell of a lot more to actually improve shit than the argument for why this quarry needs to be destroyed. I'm just waiting for them to announce it's $10 a day to park, too.

[puppyluver256]

I'm anxious driving lately for different bridge-closure-related reasons so

[the-cimmerians]

In 2022, Massachusetts residents voted in favor of a Fair Tax ballot measure to extra-super-duper-tax those earning more than one million dollars a year and to spend the revenue from that on education and transportation initiatives.

Naturally, there were the naysayers. Those who warned that all of the state’s rich people would move away to their very own Galt’s Gulch or whatever, if they were forced to pay a four percent tax on anything they make over a million dollars. The implication there, of course, is that raising this tax would, ironically, lead to the state collecting less revenue overall.

That didn’t happen! In fact, the state has already raised $1.8 billion in revenue so far for this fiscal year — which is $800 million more than they expected, and they still have a few months to go. The vast majority of the surplus will go to a fund that legislators can use for one-time investments in various projects.

The revenue has already been invested in universal school lunches, in more scholarships to public colleges, in improvements to the MBTA, and to repair roads and bridges. These are all things that will improve the quality of life for everyone, including the “ultra-rich” who happen to live there. The fact is, it’s just nice to live in a society that is more civil, that takes care of its people and its children and that fixes things when they are broken.

[ ]

Elizabeth Warren, Pramila Jayapal, and others have introduced bills in the House and Senate for a nationwide millionaire’s tax of two percent — two cents on the dollar for all wealth exceeding $50 million and six percent on all wealth over a billion dollars. This would bring in an estimated $3.75 trillion over 10 years, which we could use to improve the lives of all US citizens. We could have so many nice things!

It’s time to stop living in fear of what millionaires and billionaires — who have made their fortunes off of roads we’ve paid for and employees we’ve paid to educate — will do or where they will move if forced to pay their fair share. That’s no way to live. If they have some place better to go that won’t force them to contribute to improving their community? Let them. Other people will come along and be more than happy to pick up where they left off. But more than likely, they won’t do jack shit because they’re rich, and if they wanted to live someplace else, they’d be there by now.

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[princessbrunette]

sometimes, bunny!reader had very little self awareness. even less when she was with rafe.

you’re at the nail salon, waiting for the lady that worked there to fetch the card machine so rafe could pay for the mani pedi you just received. he’d been running errands all day, but had made that little window of time so he could pick you up and pay for you himself — he was thoughtful like that, for you anyway.

“taking her time, jesus.” rafe complains under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks around the salon, straight faced. you tsk, gently smacking the arm of his that you clung to.

“they’re having a busy day, rafey! don’t be rude.” you inform through a glossy pout, adjusting your grip on him when he shrugs carelessly.

“yeah well, i got shit to do. what time is it, anyway?”

you lift your phone, tapping the screen with one taloned nail to awaken it. rafe looks over your shoulder too, like he subconsciously didn’t even trust you to tell him the right time. sometimes you did that, telling him it was earlier than it was when he’d ask so that he’d spend longer with you, thinking he had more time. whilst you were on the well behaved side, it was one of your more sneaky habits.

however, the kook boys attention is stolen from the clock at the top of your screen nearly immediately when you carelessly display his own dick on the lockscreen. the worst part is how you’re not even trying to hide it, practically waving it around for the salon to see. you turn the screen towards him, bracelets jangling as you shake the screen a little.

“see, m’not lying about the time toda—”

rafe snatches the phone from your hand, wide eyed as he glances around. “the hell is this, huh? why is my dick your lockscreen? don’t need people seein’ what i’m working with kid, jesus— change that shit. now.” he scolds and you pout.

“but, daddy i like seeing it.” you put on the innocent act— one you do all too well as you bat your eyelashes up at him, clasping your freshly manicured hands at your front, thinking the ‘daddy’ nickname will win you some points.

“do you like sitting down? ‘cos you’re not gonna be able to do that either if you start talkin’ back. change it.”

you stare him down for a second, resisting a foot thump before yielding, sulkily taking your phone back and opening up your camera roll to find a better picture to use as your lockscreen.

“good. play stupid games win stupid prizes alright i don’t need you parading my—” his lecture his cut short by the salon assistant returning, asking if he’d like to pay with cash or card.

you continue to sulk once you’re in the passenger seat to his car, choosing to inspect your nails over interacting with him. as he concentrates on pulling out of his spot, he glances at you quickly. “hey, cheer up.” it’s more of a command and your pout only deepens.

“i liked my lockscreen rafey. i changed it because i missed you.”

surprisingly, he huffs out a quiet laugh.

“and — and a picture of just me wouldn’t have sufficed? nah, you missed my dick.” he shakes his head, squinting out at the road ahead.

“missed both.” its quiet, but he hears anyway— glancing at you once more.

“yeah? well guess where we’re headed now?”

your interest is piqued and you peer over at him, eyeing the handsome cameron.

“home. so once again, you’re gettin’ what you want. so… so stop looking so heartbroken, alright? you’ll get your fix.”

like that, all is forgotten, leaning over the console to smear a glossy kiss to his cheek and grab him through his pants — usual behaviour back in tact.

[tora-ken]

meeting you for the first time

genre fluff, gojo satoru x fem!reader

warnings none

wc; 873

please do not plagiarise or share my works on any other social media platforms. as always, reblogs are appreciated <3

“satoru? are you even listening?” his best friends, shoko and suguru wave a hand in front of his face, as they notice the white haired boy isn’t paying any attention.

“he’s spaced out again, what’s going on with him recently?” shoko mutters in annoyance, laying down against the grass as the three of them sit in an empty field, away from the noise.

satoru isn’t too sure why he’s spacing out again, in fact he’s not sure why he’s acting this way at all. everything just seems so plain, so boring. he should be happy really, for once in his life, everything is peaceful, his parents aren’t nagging at him to ask if he’s finally decided what university he wants to go off to, his aunts and uncles haven’t come to visit in a while, which means he doesn’t have to deal with more questions of what he’s going to do with his future. the teachers at his school, although they do try, don’t come up to him to ask about why he’s been skipping detention and not doing his homework. despite all this peace, he finds no meaning.

“satoru! you’re doing it again!” this time it’s suguru who snaps him out of his daze, “what are you even thinking about?”

“nothing,” he huffs, laying down on his stomach, “absolutely nothing, that’s the problem.” shoko and suguru share a confused expression, before staring back at their friend.

“alright, you…you do that man…” suguru pats his shoulder before standing up, “how about we go to the café near mine? they’re serving pancakes for half price today.” satoru’s ear twitches, and he jumps right up, his lethargy suddenly dissipating the moment suguru mentions ‘pancakes’.

the three of them, with satoru tucked between suguru and shoko, pace down the streets towards their signature café, talking idly about everything and nothing, except that satoru is gazing off again, looking straight ahead of him, without a thought in his eyes.

the street is bustling with life, children running around the park across the road, cars politely following the speed limit, the cyclists ringing their bells to let people know they’re coming by, well, some of the cyclists—

“hey- hey watch out!” a scream wakes satoru out of his stupor, and the cyclist crashes into satoru, the both of them falling stupidly on their asses.

“what the hell, why didn’t you ring your fu-“ he pauses in awe.

“i’m so so so sorry, my bell isn’t working, and my brakes are broken i’ve been meaning to get them fixed — i swear i was on my way to fix them, the bike repair shop is right down there, i’m so sorry for hurting you, oh my god are you okay—my cupcakes!” you ramble on before him, and it’s like satoru’s been introduced to paradise.

“it-it’s okay…” amazed, he stands up, and picks your bike up as you pick up the crushed cupcakes on the ground, salvaging what you can, and he watches in reverence as your hair falls down your face, only for you to push it back behind your ear, picking up the next cupcake.

“god, this is all my fault, is there anything i can do to fix this, i’m so sorry, i ripped your trousers, do you want money? a cupcake? oh my god-“ you try to offer him one of the cupcakes that weren��t destroyed, to fix the rip on satoru’s trousers.

“hey! it’s fine…you don’t need to do anything, except maybe get that bike fixed.” he sputters out, you were so beautiful.

all of a sudden, the world was colourful, he could hear the children’s laughs, smell the fresh scent of the pancakes being made right down the street where he was meant to be, and most of all—he noticed how bright your eyes were.

shoko and suguru watch, with jaws dropped as their lifeless best friend stares at the stranger before them in utter adoration, before they look at each other and hold it in themselves to not laugh out loud.

“um, i’m really sorry to do this, but i need to go fix this bike, but i’ll pay you back for your trousers, just find me somehow, my name is y/n!” you shout across the street, as you put the cupcakes back in the broken basket, and cycle off again chaotically.

he stares at you until you disappear again, his heart beating 100 miles a minute. “i just met the love of my life.” satoru almost melts into the ground as he remembers how mesmerising you were, as messy as you were, and he dreams of an entire life with you.

“oh we know…” suguru laughs.

“how is she going to be the love of your life if you probably won’t see her again?” shoko interrupts, breaking satoru out of his daydream, and he turns around to run down the direction where you cycled off.

“satoru??” his best friends scream in unison as he disappears.

“i’m going to find her, i’ll be right back!” and he skedaddles down the same corner you turned, to find that stupid bike repair shop, to find you.

and satoru gojo thinks that maybe life isn’t so boring, if someone as ethereal as you exists in it.

a/n: hope u enjoyed my attempt at fluff !!

©️tora-ken 2024

[punkshort]

Roommates | 10. just us two

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into your new lives together.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol and food consumption, massive quantities of fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex (reader is on BC), oral sex (f!receiving), spanking, pussy pronouns, multiple orgasms, some sex tape action 👀

WC: 7.1K

A/N: Okay, we've reached the end of the road for these two! I can't believe I'm wrapping up another fic, jfc. Thank you so much for sticking around and expressing so much love and excitement for this story. It means so much to me that I'm able to share this part of myself with people who are just as happy as me about these characters. This chapter wasn't really necessary, most loose ends are already tied up but they deserved to be happy, so this entire chapter is just love and fluff and smut. Shout out to @txtattoostark for listening to me yap and for the watermelon moonshine inspo. Enjoy, and thanks again ❤️

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

Joel smiled to himself as he watched you in the kitchen with his mom from his spot in the living room. The old radio next to the sink, dusty and missing two buttons, was softly playing jazz music while you both worked on dinner. It wasn't the trailer park he grew up in. The small ranch house his mother bought with the life insurance money she received after his father passed away wasn't too bad. He begged her for years to let him give her some money, to buy her a place closer to town, to pay for new appliances at the very least, but she always refused. Instead, he found himself visiting her whenever he had a few days off so he could fix the sink or the washer or cut the grass.

He didn't mind. It was a good excuse to come visit. He enjoyed catching up and spending time with her.

But now, with you? Watching the way you seamlessly moved around the kitchen, laughing with his mom and stirring things in pots while swaying your hips in those tight denim shorts... yeah, this was different. This was much better.

"Hey, brother," Tommy said from behind, startling him out of his rosy daydream. Joel stood with a smile to engulf Tommy in a hug once he kicked off his shoes.

"You look tan," he remarked, then reached for Maria and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"New Orleans was sunny," Tommy said, holding some bottle of clear alcohol in his hand. "Brought back some moonshine. Watermelon. Mama's favorite."

"Oh, Tommy! Maria! You're back!" their mother cried from the kitchen before wiping her hands on a towel and hurrying over to the front door, her worn out blue slippers catching on the rug as she walked. "How was your honeymoon?" she asked after she squeezed them both within an inch of their lives.

"Amazing," Maria said happily. "We had such a great time. Have you ever been?"

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "Maybe James will take me one day."

"Is he here?" Tommy asked, handing his mother the liquor.

"No, he's visiting his daughter out of town this weekend. Come on, I have some snacks out."

The four of them entered the kitchen and you swiveled around with a big smile. Setting down the wooden spoon you were holding, you threw your arms around Maria's neck, then Tommy's.

"How was it?" you asked them, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

You and Maria fell into an animated conversation about some haunted ghost tour when Tommy cleared his throat and propped his hands on his hips.

The pair of you stopped talking to look at him questioningly, then realization dawned on you. You smirked and shook your head before digging into your back pocket to pull out a folded bill and slapped it into his palm.

"You were right, Tommy."

He laughed and tucked the money into his shirt pocket.

"Thought you mighta forgot."

Joel frowned and looked between the two of you curiously, but Maria seemed to know exactly what was going on because she was already chuckling to herself.

You glanced over at Joel, who was eating a cracker with cheese, and your expression softened. "Best hundred bucks I ever lost."

"The hell you givin' him a hundred bucks for?" Joel asked incredulously, but you just slipped your arms around his waist and rested your chin against his chest with a smile.

"I lost a bet," you told him.

He practically melted into a puddle under your touch. He couldn't get enough. After a year of denying yourselves or sneaking around, it felt so good to be open. He refused to ever take it for granted, so he tilted your face up and pressed a tender kiss against your lips. He felt your mouth twitch into a smile when Tommy groaned in fake disgust.

"Thought we were the newlyweds here."

You broke the kiss to shoot him a look over your shoulder.

"Try and keep up."

Joel tossed his head back and laughed, then released his hold on you so you could return to the stove. Maria washed her hands and picked up a knife to chop vegetables and Tommy reached for the bottle of moonshine their mother left on the counter.

"Let's crack into this," he said, and Joel nodded. He weaved through the kitchen to open up the cupboard where the glasses were kept, grabbing five tumblers. You were swaying again with the music and you gently knocked into him with your hips, just enough to tease him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Watch yourself, baby," he warned with a wink before placing the glasses down next to Tommy so he could pour.

Joel couldn't remember a time he had seen his mother look so happy. The five of them sat around her dining room table, a table made for four but you all squeezed in, knees knocking together underneath, arms brushing against one another, and it felt perfect.

He leaned back in his chair after finishing his food, one arm draped along the back of your chair, his other hand loosely holding his glass of moonshine and he smiled. He tried to pay attention to Maria and his brother tell stories about their honeymoon, but he had a hard time looking away from you. Eventually, he stopped trying. His gaze slid down your face, admiring your smile and the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

He was so fucking lucky.

Tearing his eyes away to bring his glass to his lips, he caught his mother watching him across the table with a knowing smile. She winked at him before giving Tommy her attention once again and Joel felt his face warm.

Once dinner was over, he and Tommy stood to clear everyone's plates. A habit that was formed early on in their lives. Whoever didn't cook had to clean up.

After the dishes were done and the leftovers were packed away, the two brothers refilled their glasses and wandered out to the back porch where their mother, you and Maria had ended up.

Maria and Mrs. Miller were strolling around the yard, their mother pointing out plants and flowers and telling Maria some long winded story about each. The deer hate this one. Cindy up the street cut a chunk of this out of her garden for me, can you believe how big it is now? I got this from Home Depot on clearance half dead, look how good it's doing.

"Better go save her," Tommy murmured before jogging down the steps. Joel plopped himself next to you on the porch with a sigh and clinked your glasses together.

"Lucky you already got the flower tour earlier," he told you.

You bit your lip and chuckled. "She really loves her garden."

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting and you could hear the crickets coming to life all around you. Birds swooped anxiously overhead, rushing back to their nests for the night. A cool breeze floated through the air, rustling your hair and making you shiver.

"C'mere," he murmured, patting his thigh. You smirked and shook your head but put your glass down and stood to perch on his leg, wrapping your arms around his neck lovingly and giving him a chaste kiss.

He hummed in approval and licked his lips. "Taste good."

"Like watermelon?" you asked, fingers twisting around the long strands of hair on the back of his head.

He nodded. "And you."

You kissed him once again, lingering a bit longer that time so you could fully appreciate the softness of his lips between yours and breathing in deep the scent of soap still stuck to his skin.

Then voices began to grow louder behind you, indicating your alone time was coming to an end.

Tommy stumbled on the stairs leading up the porch and you turned around on Joel's lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you right where you were, before teasing his brother.

"Better take it easy. You been out for two weeks at work, you ain't callin' in tomorrow 'cause you're hungover."

Tommy rolled his eyes and took your abandoned chair.

"Yes, boss."

"How are things at the bar, Joel?" his mother asked, sitting down with a sigh. "I'm so glad you found some work I can actually tell my girlfriends about without lying."

You stifled a giggle and glanced at Maria, who was also trying to hold back her laughter.

"Good, Mama," Joel said, ignoring her other comment. His chin came to rest over your shoulder as he spoke. "The remodel is done. Opened up the room so there's a place to dance. Easier for customers to move around. Everyone's been real excited to see the changes. Been busy."

"He's been working so hard, too," you added, twisting to your side so your fingers could lovingly rake through the hair on the back of his neck. "Some days I don't even see him."

Mrs. Miller gave you a sympathetic look but you could tell she was proud of her oldest son for venturing outside his comfort zone and applying himself.

"So you're all moved in, I take it?" Maria asked, and you nodded.

"Didn't really have much. Most of my things were still packed from when I moved out."

"She's been sprucin' up the place, too. You oughta see it," Joel said fondly. "Got pretty lookin' art on the walls, fluffy pillows and blankets for the couch. Actually got some food in the damn fridge, too."

Tommy laughed heartily. "That mean you'll stop swipin' fries and shit from the kitchen?"

"Hey, I'm payin' for those fries. I'll take 'em if I want 'em," he said with a scowl, then looked up at you, his eyes softening. "But it's nice to have dinner waitin' for me at home," he added, bringing a smile to your face.

"You were always terrible at cooking," you teased, tugging on his earlobe playfully between your fingers.

The night dragged on, the stars lit up the quiet night sky and Mrs. Miller eventually began to yawn, indicating it was time to head home.

Home.

It felt so right to think of it that way. It was where you belonged. But you knew it wasn't simply the house. You could have been living in a shack and you would still be just as happy because it was with him.

Joel gripped your thigh while he drove his truck with one hand on the steering wheel. The windows were down, the wind whipped at your face, tangling your hair when you turned your head to gaze over at him.

"See anythin' you like?" he teased when he spotted you admiring him from the corner of his eye.

You giggled and felt his fingers squeeze your bare leg.

"You know what I want?"

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards and his eyes darkened with excitement. "What's that, sweetheart?"

You seductively ran your palm up his arm, sighing at the way his muscles twitched under your fingertips.

"I would really, really love... a vegetable garden."

You laughed at the way his face fell in mock disappointment.

"I'll build you a vegetable garden," he finally said as he turned onto your street.

"Really?" you asked with a huge smile. He nodded and shot you a wink.

"'Course. Whatever you want, baby."

Joel stayed true to his word. About a week later you woke up on Saturday morning to the distant sound of a hammer beating a piece of wood in the backyard. Stretching a lazy arm out to your side, you pouted when you found Joel was missing.

Then the pieces slowly clicked together.

It was a rare weekend off for him. You had been talking about it for the past few days. He was looking forward to Tommy returning to work so he wouldn't be so short staffed and he could relax with you for two whole days. You didn't come up with any plans except laying in bed, ordering takeout and watching movies, content to just spend time together. But Joel sweetly surprised you by waking up early, something he absolutely detested, so he could build you the vegetable garden you asked for.

You lightly padded down the steps still clad in your tank top and shorts to grab a mug from the cupboard. The coffee pot sizzled with heat when you plucked it from the burner, half the liquid already gone. Once you fixed it the way you liked, you walked out onto the back deck and leaned over the railing, your mug cupped in both hands, to fully appreciate the sight before you.

Joel had his back to you as he crouched over a simple rectangular wooden frame on the ground. You could see the sweat collecting on the back of his neck and it made your mouth water. As your eyes traveled lower, you noticed the dark patches in his shirt forming at his collar and between his shoulder blades, making your thighs clench together while he worked, completely oblivious to you watching him, listening to him grunt and sigh when he lifted a new piece of wood.

You swallowed thickly before taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes never leaving his form while he stood to stretch his back. He lifted his hat from his head and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. Something was so fucking hot about him getting all sweaty and worked up, but on that particular day? When he was making you something, sacrificing his rare down time just for you? It lit a fire inside you that couldn't be tamed.

Before he noticed, you scooted back inside to fill up a glass of ice water. With your hand hovering over the door handle, you got an idea that sent a jolt of arousal right through you. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking your panties off to land on the couch, and shimmied your shorts back on.

Your pulse was fucking racing with excitement when you stepped outside once again, but this time you made sure to make a little noise so Joel would hear you. When the door clicked shut, he turned around and grinned before setting down his tools and stepping into the shade.

"Thank you, darlin'," he murmured when you handed him the water.

"You're welcome," you replied, your hands clasping behind your back as you practically vibrated in place with nervous energy. His eyes flicked down your body curiously right when he was finishing up his drink.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, sensing something was off while he set the glass down on the deck.

"Mhmm," you said, a nervous grin spreading across your face. "Missed you, though."

He chuckled and wiped some sweat away from his face with the bottom of his shirt. Your mouth went dry and your eyes instantly locked onto his tanned stomach and the dark smattering of curls that led below his waistband. The sleep shorts you were wearing were thin. If they were a lighter color, you could probably see right through them if you really looked. As it turned out, they were also terrible at absorbing moisture because they were sticking uncomfortably to your inner thighs while you waited for him to notice.

"Huh?" you said when you realized he was speaking.

He shook his head and dropped his shirt back down. "I said, I'm makin' you the damn garden you wanted."

You inched forward and took his hand in yours. "Well, do you think it can wait? Because I need to show you something inside that needs your help."

Somehow, he was still not picking up what you were implying.

"Baby, I'm on a roll. I just need another hour, maybe two-"

You tugged the hand you were holding between your legs and his eyes widened when he felt the wetness waiting for him there.

"Sorry. Got tired of being subtle," you told him with a playful smirk. He whipped his head around, checking to see if any of the neighbors were out tending to their lawns or enjoying their morning coffee on their patios while his fingers hooked around the soaked material.

You saw in his face the exact moment he realized you were bare underneath your shorts. It was like his brain was buffering, desperately trying to calculate how long he allowed you to stand there practically begging to be fucked while he rambled on about a goddamn garden. The surprise in his features slowly faded into the hazy, lust filled gaze you were so familiar with, and you smiled triumphantly.

"Get your ass inside right fuckin' now before I do somethin' that'll get us both thrown in jail," he growled, something primal shifting in his face while his body flooded with arousal, his need for you dripping heavier in his veins with each steady beat of his heart.

You squeaked and covered your ass when he swat at you from behind, then you hurried past him, back into the house.

Looking back on it, to think you would have made it upstairs to your bedroom was comical. His hands grabbed your hips halfway up the carpeted steps, pulling you down as you laughed giddily and pretended to try to fight off his attack, clawing fruitlessly at the stairs while he smiled into your lower back where his mouth was alternating kisses and bites across your skin.

"You wanted attention, you got it," he mumbled before yanking your shorts down and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your ass. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to make you yelp in surprise and leave a few linear indents in your skin.

Joel usually took his time with you. He preferred it that way. He liked to watch your face as he tormented you between your legs. He liked to see what new sounds he could pull from your throat when he changed an angle.

But not that day.

No, that day he yanked your shorts all the way off, tossing them over his shoulder and down the steps before grabbing your hips with his hands, all rough and sweaty from working outside.

You braced yourself for the inevitable stretch, the welcome yet slightly painful intrusion that you yearned for, but what happened next shocked you.

Your eyes widened and you gasped when you felt his mouth descend on your pussy from behind, his tongue immediately setting an intense pace, which was a change from the way he usually ate you. But speed and passion weren't the only variation. He never, ever went down on you from behind before.

"I- J-Joel, what are... oh," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he lapped eagerly at your core. Instinctively, you spread your hips and sunk down further onto his mouth. Your cheek was rubbing harshly against the carpet and your lips were parted, allowing a small trail of drool to trickle down your chin. If you had any awareness left, you might have cared, but the pleasure he was building between your legs left your brain completely numb.

"Oh, fuck yes, Joel - keep going, just like that," you groaned, reaching behind you blindly to grab a fistful of his hair. "Fuck you and that fucking mouth," you gasped when his tongue flatted against your clit. He chuckled against your core but didn't stop. His hand slid up the back of your thigh and gave your cheek a firm jiggle before smacking his palm down across your ass. You jolted forward, your forehead bumping up against the next step, and cried out for more so he did it again, but on the other side.

"You like that?" he panted, pulling away from you for just a moment to catch his breath. You arched your back, giving him a generous view of the mess he left between your legs and he was afraid for the first time ever that he might come completely untouched. He inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw your cunt pulse, calling to him like a goddamn siren at sea. "Fuck, so beautiful," he growled before closing his eyes and picking up right where he left off.

His thumbs spread your lips so his tongue could tease your entrance, scooping up your arousal and rutting his hips against the stairs, eating you like he was about to go off to war.

"I'm... oh, shit, Joel!" you exclaimed, pulling at his hair roughly so he wouldn't dare try to stop when you were so close to your climax. And he could sense it. He was good at that. He knew what you needed sometimes before you even knew. So once again, he brought his palm down sharply across your ass, a little harder that time but not too much. Just enough to leave a few seconds of sting, electrifying your nerve endings and pulling you over the edge.

Two tears rolled down your cheeks when you came. The little bit of pain from his hand and the carpet digging into your cheek and knees mixed with your pleasure in such a way that it left you breathless.

Finally, once he felt your legs begin to tremble and whimpers fell from your lips, he pulled away with a deep gasp. His eyes were pinned to the way your pussy looked; all drenched with a combination of his spit and your release, and he cursed under his breath.

"She looks so fuckin' good, baby, wish you could see what I see," he murmured, mesmerized as he continued to stare without any shame. You hardly had any of your senses. Your breath was ragged and your throat was dry but still, you tilted your chin and whispered, "show me."

A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes lit up.

"Yeah? You'd let me take a picture of this pretty pussy?" he asked, but he was already digging in his back pocket for his phone. You nodded, eyes still closed.

When both his hands left your waist, you arched your back a bit more and spread your legs, presenting yourself to him. You heard a deep groan rumble from his chest and he whispered, "fuckin' natural, baby," before you heard the shutter on his phone. One, two, three times at least you heard the familiar little click, click, then he leaned over your slumped body and slid his phone in front of your face.

"See? Look at you. Look at what I get to see," he murmured into your ear. Your eyes opened and widened as you stared at your wrecked pussy on the screen.

"Oh, wow," you breathed, not expecting at all to find it sexy, but you did. You fucking did. "Look at what you did to me," you said, craning your neck over your shoulder. His eyes flickered with heat and his mouth crashed down onto yours.

"Just wait til I split you open on my cock," he said, his voice rumbling against your back. "Have you all stuffed full with my cum. Now that's a pretty sight."

You groaned and shakily pushed yourself up.

"I'm begging you, please, Joel... do not fuck me on these stairs. My knees are killing me."

He laughed and helped you stand, legs wobbling just a little.

"Nah. I got an idea and we can't do it here."

You laid underneath the covers in bed, your lower half still bare and your tank top still on while you nervously chewed on your lower lip, watching Joel at the foot of the bed tinker with a camcorder he had buried somewhere in his closet that he swore up and down he never used with anyone else.

Never wanted to before, he had said when you eyed it suspiciously after he explained he swiped it from a set when it was used as a prop in one of his films years ago.

"Battery's dead but I'll just leave it plugged in," he said, then he flipped out the little screen tucked into the side of the device and swiveled it around so it was facing out. He set it on his end table and adjusted it until he was satisfied with the angle, then looked over his shoulder with a grin.

"You sure?" he clarified again. Your eyes flickered from him to the camera, then back again.

"Yeah," you squeaked, your voice very clearly betraying you. His gaze softened and he leaned across the bed to press a chaste kiss against your forehead.

"We don't gotta do this," he assured you. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"No," you replied, shaking your head. "I want to, I'm just nervous."

He scoffed and readjusted himself so he was lying next to you, blocking the idle camera.

"Nothin' to be nervous 'bout. It's just for me 'n you," he murmured before cupping your face and pressing his lips tenderly against yours. When his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, you sighed and looped your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace and deepening the kiss. His hand slid down from your cheek to squeeze your breast, groaning a little when he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

His lips dragged down to your jaw, his teeth grazing your throat until he found a spot he liked and latched on while pushing the sheets from your body. The anticipation bubbled up while his hand continued to travel lower, your legs instinctively falling open for him. You finally relaxed when he successfully distracted you with his fingers through your folds and gasped as he slid two inside you with ease.

"Oh, yeah, you're ready for me," he moaned into your neck, his erection bordering on painful. He exhaled shakily when one of your hands wrapped around his length and began to gently stroke him, your palm so soft and warm that he almost forgot about the camera.

"C'mon, baby, sit up f'me," he said, pulling his hand from between your legs and leaning back so he could kick his jeans off. You scrambled to sit, your breaths coming in shallow pants as you watched him tug his shirt over his head. When he reached for the hem of your tank top, he paused and turned to tap the record button on the camcorder. Instantly, your limbs went rigid and your hands fell to your lap, covering yourself, but when he turned back to you he pinched your chin in his fingers, pulling your nervous gaze from the camera lens.

"Eyes on me," he told you, his voice low and deep, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and raised your arms so he could peel off your tank top. He tossed it onto the floor and sat back on his heels to admire the way your tits sat exposed to him, his eyes darkening when your nipples hardened with arousal. He lunged forward and took one in his mouth, his hot, wet tongue lavishing your pebbled skin before switching to the other one. You tipped your head back and moaned, mouth open as you stared up blankly at the ceiling, your fingers rising to get tangled in his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, planting little kisses all over your chest and circling his arms around your ribs, tugging you closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trembling when his cock pressed between your bodies, his erection sliding through your wet heat and suddenly you couldn't breathe.

"I-I need you," you whimpered, weakly lifting your hips into his lap.

"I know, baby, I know," he hummed. One hand dropped to cup your ass so he could reposition his legs underneath you, then flexed his hips so the tip of his cock lined up with your opening. "Want me to fuck you just like this? Sittin' in my lap?"

You nodded, your eyelids heavy with desire as you tightened your grip around his neck. The second he pressed into you, you gasped. He watched with adoration as your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, breathing deep and slow as you relaxed and slowly took him.

"Joel," you whispered, jaw slack. "Joel, I love you."

He moaned and pulled your hips flush with his, forcing you to take the last few inches all at once. "I love you, too, baby. Christ, you're incredible. Fuckin' look at you."

Look at you. His words made you remember the camera. Your eyes flickered over to the little rectangular screen, the outline of your bodies perfectly centered, and you swallowed tightly.

"Pretend like it's the mirror," he whispered in your ear as he began to gently rock in and out, "just like the mirror at the hotel, okay?"

You nodded and sighed, your shoulders loosening and your muscles relaxing as you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his. He tightened his grip around your middle, his body engulfing you in warmth. You rested your head on his shoulder as he continued to fuck you nice and slow, stretching you out around him, reaching depths that had you reeling.

This was it. There was nothing else outside those four walls. You had everything you ever wanted right there. The way he kissed you, touched you, made love to you always left you feeling so safe. Deep down, you always knew he was the missing piece in your life, the mysterious thing you kept searching for in others and were always left disappointed. Because nobody else ever loved you and cared for you the way he did.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you told him, your tongue dragging up his neck, collecting the dried sweat with a moan. You began to bounce in his lap a little faster and he immediately matched your pace with thrusts of his own.

"I'm the one who's lucky," he said through clenched teeth. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tucked his chin to his chest so he could watch himself disappear inside your cunt. "So soft. Softest pussy. So fuckin' warm and wet, you feel so good. Goddamnit, every fuckin' time..."

You smiled to yourself as you listened to him ramble. "Maybe we're both lucky."

He chuckled and you gasped when his cock brushed up against that one spot that made you see stars. You feverishly grabbed his face with both hands and bit desperately at his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth and making him groan.

Your body was loose and pliant now, so with more confidence you quickened the roll of your hips, relishing in the way his cock felt dragging in and out of you, how your clit rubbed against the coarse hair at his base, in the noises you managed to pull from his throat each time your skin slapped together.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Show me what you like. Oh, good girl," he groaned, hands sliding up your back to hold you as you began to lose yourself. He could see it in the look in your eyes and the way your fingers dug into his shoulders.

It was the most beautiful fucking thing.

Your body moved perfectly in tandem with his, your sharp gasps and his deep groans filling the room, the camera long forgotten by now.

"Oh, god, I'm close," you whimpered as you felt the heat that had been building begin to quickly creep up and spread through your stomach. "Oh, fuck. Oh, god... Joel, don't stop, please..." you begged, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your vision began to blur.

"I ain't stoppin'. C'mon, give it to me, lemme feel you," he growled. He snapped steadily into you now, each thrust punctuated by a grunt while his eyes locked on yours, watching with pride as you crumbled and fell apart, your walls squeezing him so beautifully as you came that it nearly pulled him right over the edge with you.

It happened fast. One second you were in his lap, your body tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the next he had pulled out of you and flipped you onto your hands and knees. Only when you felt his thick cock slide back inside did you fully realize you had switched positions. And shit, taking him from that particular angle always was so much more intense, but combined with the fact that your new view included the camera in the corner of your eye made everything so much more powerful.

You could fucking see him now and you couldn't look away, completely entranced with the way his face looked as he slammed into you. His mouth hung open as he looked down at you with what could only be described as complete and utter desire. You could feel his hand running up the length of your spine but you could also see the look of worship in his eye, the way his face twisted in pleasure when he watched your ass ripple from the force of his hips, and you felt a heavy wave suddenly crash over you once again.

"Oh, fuck!" Joel groaned loudly as he watched another orgasm shoot through you. His hands grabbed at your waist to try to keep you still, but you were trembling everywhere and you couldn't hold yourself up any longer.

You fell onto your elbows, the side of your face pressing into the bed while he held up your hips, fucking into you harder now that he could tell you were spent. "I'm gonna come, baby, I'm -" he cut himself off with a desperate whine, the buildup from the past hour or so becoming too much and causing his release to intensify.

Your bodies finally stilled and he pumped you full of his spend, his groans getting caught in his throat as he pulsed inside you. He watched in a daze when his cum started to leak out even though he was still inside, and without thinking, he snatched the camera from the bedside table so he could get a close up.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he whispered hoarsely, chest heaving and hands shaking as he held the camera at his chest, pointing it down to where you were connected. "So glad you're back on the pill. Fuckin' beautiful, all full of me like this. Shit," he muttered, swiping a finger to collect some of his release to rub it over your clit. With a whine, your body jolted forward and he chuckled before dropping his hand, knowing you were too overstimulated.

"Joel," you whispered tiredly. Your eyelids were heavy and your thighs were shaking from the effort of holding yourself up.

"I know, baby, just one more thing and then I'll clean you up," he promised. He took a deep breath and steadied the camera before slipping out of you.

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat when he watched through the lens the way your body leaked of him, your pussy all swollen and stretched out, completely fucked, messy and used.

"Jesus," he croaked, wishing he could keep filming but your body sagged forward and he stopped the recording before tossing the camera onto the other side of the bed so he could check on you.

"You alright?"

You nodded, eyes closed, lips bitten raw, hair a complete mess but you still wore a satisfied smile.

"Tired. I think I'm gonna just..." you yawned and stretched out your shaky limbs. "Just gonna close my eyes for a sec."

He grinned and stood up to go to the bathroom, plucking a couple clean washcloths from the linen closet and wetting them both under the faucet so he could clean himself up with one and take the other back to you.

"Did you eat?" he asked softly as he gently and carefully dragged the washcloth through your thighs. You shook your head, eyes still closed. "I'm gonna go make you somethin'. Gotta eat, honey," he whispered before kissing the top of your head and covering you with the sheet. But by the time he came back upstairs with a bagel and cream cheese, you were fast asleep.

So you're getting married, then?

Well, he hasn't really asked me, not in so many words.

Four, you mean?

Huh?

Well, that's how many it takes: will you marry me?

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard two familiar voices reciting an even more familiar dialogue from the television, the volume turned down so low, you could hear the neighbor's dog barking from four houses down.

Joel shifted in bed next to you as quietly as he could, unaware you had awoken. You peered up at him, hair all messy, chest still bare, and you smiled when you caught him stifling a laugh at Audrey Hepburn.

"Hey," you said, voice coming out rougher than you expected, so you cleared your throat. He immediately muted the television and turned toward you, grinning as his eyes raked up and down your sleep-addled face.

"Hey, yourself," he said softly. He pushed the hair off your face, letting his thumb linger on your cheek while he continued to examine you closely. "Feelin' okay?"

You nodded and yawned, stretching your sore legs out underneath the blankets. "You fucked me into a coma."

He laughed heartily and rubbed his palm over his chest, embarrassment flushing his bronzed skin.

"But I guess that's what I get for shacking up with a pornstar," you added with a giggle. He tossed his head back and laughed even louder at that and you couldn't resist, his happiness too infectious. You inched forward and nuzzled into his side, his arm dropping to wrap around your shoulders.

When the laughter died down, he gazed lovingly at you and, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, reminded you, "ex-pornstar, but I suppose old habits die hard, huh?"

"Mm, maybe, but that's okay," you said, tracing light, invisible patterns on his stomach. "It's nothing I can't handle."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Careful, or I might have'ta hold you to that."

"Bring it on, superstar," you whispered before leaning up and pressing a gentle, soft kiss against his mouth. You licked your lips and hummed before looking up at him through your lashes. "Cream cheese?"

"I made you a bagel, but you fell asleep," he admitted, "but figured we could relax the rest of the day. Order in, watch movies... just like we said we would."

"I don't remember saying we would do all that naked," you teased.

"Thought that was implied, baby," he said with a frown. "You shacked up with a pornstar, what'd you expect?"

What did you expect? Did you ever imagine your life would turn out the way it did? Sitting in bed with a sheet wrapped around you, eating Chinese food and watching a Turner Classic Movies marathon with the man of your dreams? You always wished for it; before you met, after you became friends, while you were carrying on an illicit affair, and even when you weren't on speaking terms, you always, always wished for it. But did you ever really think it would come true?

You couldn't really remember, and at that point, it didn't matter. Because you didn't care how you got there, just as long as you were together, you were happy.

You did exactly what he said you would do. You stayed in bed until the sun began to set, wasting the whole day away curled into his side watching old movies and pointing out your favorite parts, exactly the way you used to.

It was around nine when Joel suggested going out for ice cream. Let's get out, stretch our legs and walk along the river, he had said after vowing to finish your vegetable garden the next day.

And on your way out, your hands fused together even while he struggled to lock the door one handed, you looked at the chairs on his porch and smiled to yourself.

"What's that for?" he asked, tapping your cheek lovingly while you walked side by side to his truck.

"Nothing, it's stupid," you told him with a shrug.

"Ain't nothin' you got to say is stupid to me."

You sighed when he let your hand go so you could round the truck and hop into the passenger seat. After you clicked your seatbelt into place, he put the keys in the ignition but waited to turn it on. Instead, he looked at you expectantly with his eyebrows raised.

"Fine," you mumbled, "I'm gonna sound fucking crazy, but... fine."

"Oh, well now this I gotta hear," he said.

You gave him a look before turning in your seat to face him. "The chairs on your porch." He nodded.

"So far, not crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Remember when I came by to drop off the shirts for the Jack and Jill party?"

He nodded again and you could feel the self-consciousness begin to creep up.

"We weren't on great terms back then. I had just found out you bought a house. I felt like I hardly even knew you anymore. And I was so damn nervous, I didn't want to fuck things up even more than I already had, but when I saw you had two..." You paused when you saw the flicker of understanding cross his face. "I thought you maybe found someone else. I know. It's crazy, like I said."

Joel smiled and reached his hand across the seat to lace together with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Got the second one for you."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise.

"What?" you breathed.

He gave you a shrug and tilted his head bashfully. "I was just waitin' for you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckling yourself so you could stretch your body over to his seat and pull him into a deep kiss.

"I thought I lost you," you whispered against his mouth, and he chuckled.

"You didn't. I was all yours that very first night, sweetheart."

You didn't even try to deny it. He was right. It seemed so obvious now. Why didn't you see it back then? But before you began to mentally chastise yourself for being so bullheaded, you stopped. You couldn't change the past, something you've been learning to accept in therapy for months now, but what you could do was focus on your future. And while you sat next to Joel as he drove towards your favorite ice cream place in town, windows down and stars twinkling in the sky, you smiled because your future together looked pretty damn bright.

[sunniepoo]

jj had spent a fair amount of time doing odd jobs all over different states but when his stay in an isolated,closed off community extends longer than expected, he can’t help but notice you; preachers daughter

when the storm outside brewed further, jj knew that he wouldn’t be able to travel for a while until everything was cleared up. the rough clash of the branches against the paley tinted window filled the air reminded him of the ongoing war of weathers outside, his eyes drifted into the endless fields of grass occasionally having a few buildings and houses adorned along the way tinted with a rough grey through the stained windows

he was lucky to have found refuge, the local preacher offering up his home to stay in while the storm calms down and he continues to do his work around town - fixing pipes and leaky sinks to cars and rundown trucks

different, everything here was different - it was as if the place was drowning in an endless silence gradually sucking the life out of the people but they didn’t seem to mind, mumbling on something about this is the way god had wanted them to live. it terrified him to start, being stuck somewhere like this; despite all his struggles back home in kildare at least it had life, friends,colour but the pay was quite generous and a couple weeks more couldn’t hurt him

“storms creating a right mess” the older man speaks, he was dressed in a dark cloak covering his body with a large cross necklaces adorning his neck. “s’gonna take a while for all the roads to clear up” jj replies, he would be lying if didn’t say the man in front of him didn’t intimidate him - he possessed the same loneliness that swarmed the rest of this town but he had offered up his home, gave him a hot meal; so he couldn’t be all that bad

at first he didn’t even see you, it wasn’t until the soft creak of the floorboard, he saw your small frame hidings behind the wall, watching him. the older man watched jj’s eyes shift, following at what was catching his attention “oh! i forgot to introduce you to our new guest honey” he says ushering you over to where they were standing “this young man will be staying with us for some time while he works. go on say hi” while he explains there is a slight look in his eye telling her it was okay. jj wasn’t going to bite

he didn’t miss the slight glint in your eyes as you locked eyes, your palm reaching out to meet his, it was a short handshake but he couldn’t forget the way your gentle hands gripped his, the tips of your fingers stroking against his “hi” it was barely a sound, moreso a squeak

cute. he thought, you looked nice - the kind of nice he thought was only in the movies, the kind of nice that would rather let the spider free than kill it

“well i’ll be off” your father interrupts the silence, pulling you into a quick hug before patting jj lightly on the shoulder “some work over at millers’ house” he begins to pack his stuff and leave before letting out a ‘don’t cause any trouble’ mostly aimed at you. mostly

it was silent for the most part, you’d run off to your room while he gathered his equipment and started working at the faulty sink in the kitchen. the long hours of the day seemed to fly by, he carried on as usual occasionally stopping for an odd break here and there and that’s when he saw you

you’d left your room door slightly open, sitting in between the gap watching him quietly “y’know you could come sit over here” he announces, hoping to have caught your attention “don’t bite, m’promise” the southern ting in his accent escaping between words. the light patter of your steps filled the air, replacing the once ominous silence, you’d decided to sit right opposite him, knees brought under your chin with big eyes staring into him

“are you hungry” the question comes very direct and forward, eyes never leaving his silently watching his every move. you knew your answer as the blonde lets out a cheeky grin, standing up to head towards the kitchen

what you were supposed to do was fix him a nice dinner and be in your way back to your room; what you were supposed to do was ask simple questions about his life and let him get on with his work - what you weren’t supposed to do was be sat on your kitchen counter with him working his way between your legs!

you didn’t even know how it happened, he was just so funny and he kept making you laugh and every time he spoke you found your eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips and the to his hands and the to the slight bulge of his cock in his pants. you hadn’t meant to fall into the temptation, if anyone found out oh god! you’d be in so much trouble, you’d be the talk of town

but something in you couldn’t find it in you to stop as his lips travelled down your body, loosely lifting your dress up to kiss between your thighs, kissing on top of your clothed pussy

“jay-jayj” the breathy moan that leaves your mouth is muffled by the patter of the rain against the window “n-not here, somewhere else” roughly grabbing the tops of his messy hair bringing him up from underneath your dress. you didn’t even have the self control to resist him - you’d been waiting for far too long for someone with life to come to this shitty little town and here he was in a 6ft blonde package.

he’d grabbed your hand locking your fingers together before dragging you over to the guest room he’d been sleeping in, gently nudging you to lay down on the bed. it was heaven, the way your lips collided against each other while his knees pealed your legs open. you could feel his hand sneaking down, slipping under the waistband of your panties, fingers rubbing slowly against your clit eliciting a loud moan from you

you felt shame as you looked at the walls decorated with framed pictures of mother mary, the rosary laying on the desk. how have come to do the one thing you’ve been told not to do? but it was so hard, trapped in this town where everyone had something to say about everyone, you couldn’t help but wonder - if there was something more outside the fields of grass, something like him

the same him whose tongue was down your throat “you sure about this sweatpea” he breathes out, mouth disconnecting from yours - panting slowly “cause you know once this happens…. there’s no going back” you couldn’t help but whimper at his words, giving him a small nod

“words baby.. words” he says before diving into the crook of your neck planting soft kisses along the bottom of your ear “mm yes jay yes yes yes” you were so so desperate to feel the spark, the colour, the life you’ve always wanted and if you passed on it now - it would never happen

the whine in your voice was all it took for him to pull at the straps of the top of your dress dragging it off you, letting your tits spill out leaving you in nothing but your panties

“jesuuus christ” as soon as he says that he doesn’t miss the subtle pout on your face at the name. right he would not approve “m’sorry babe” the apology is followed by the plaster of kisses down your stomach, getting closer and closer to your aching core “just got me acting crazy with all this. fuck . in front of me

you were soaked through and through thighs all sticky from your juices, “she really wants this…huh” it was cruel really how long he was taking, you were so tempted to just shove his face down there already “don’t worry papa s’gonna fix all of this” he’d already began to pull of your panties, mouth latching immediately on to your clit

“so fuckin’ good” he mumbles, words only making you more desperate “ah ah s’good jay” you moan out, hands roughly grabbing at the messy mop on top his head “so good” your pleasure only seemed to increase as his ringed fingers make their way into your needy little hole

the loud squelch that filled the air as his fingers piston roughly in and out of your soaking cunt, you were sure your juices were spread all over his mouth but that didn’t seem to stop him one bit, he was like a man starved the way his tongue flattened against your sensitive core, it had you morning like a kitten in heat

“oh god oh god oh god” as much as you hated using the lords name in vain, you couldn’t help as he fastened his face adding another finger inside your poor little hole. the blonde smirks mumbling “not god baby…..just me” your legs started to clamp lightly around his head, grinding your core against his face. you’d never be able to forget the way he made you writhe and tremble in his hold just from his mouth

you’d heard about it before, in old books that were thrown away for being ‘sent by the devil’ the feeling in your stomach - it was like a rough knot was tied in your stomach slowly building up “jay jay jay” you squeal as he moves his fingers impossibly faster “please jay ngh- need it uh- so bad jay” it was almost pathetic how needy you were for him but it only seemed to egg him on further

he was in his own form of bliss, jeans roughly grinding against the mattress beneath him, you were so perfect - he felt his cock throb harder than it ever has the moment he looked at you writhing against him “yeah that’s it” he breathily lets out “g’nna cum f’me baby” pillowy lips latching onto your fit sucking as harsh as possible while his fingers hit spots you’d never even dreamed of

“yes uh- yes ngh-yes” you were blessed to have your home at such a distance form town, it wouldn’t take much guessing to make out what was happening through the walls. the soft squeak was followed with a wave of sensations, a confusing pleasure taking out your body, causing almost pornographic moans to fill the room

overridden by pleasure your legs couldn’t stop shaking and much to jj’s surprise hot spurts of his own cum coated the front of his jeans as he came undone. the harsh pants were the only noise for some time before the troublesome blond came up lying next you

“did s’good babe” placing a firm kiss on your forehead pulling you into his arm, drawing soothing circles on your back as your realise the reality of what you’ve done. you were overridden with guilt but not because of what you’ve done but the lack of regret you have

you feel a weight go off the bed as jj gets up, arms reaching out to pick you up and bring you over to the bathroom. gentle, it was all so soft - it made you think about when he’d be gone, how you’d miss this, you’d be still stuck in this town with the same people, get married to someone you barely know and definitely don’t love. it made you press yourself as close as possible to him, soaking in his presence

and later that evening when you lay in his lap,his back pressed against the old couch as his hand strokes through the roots of your hair “m’gonna miss you so much” your hands travelled to wrap tightly around his arm like he’d be gone this second if you let go “don’ know what you saying sweetcheeks” he laughs, bringing a sweet kiss to the tops of your head “like you know” you breathe out, clearly melancholic about the situation “when you gotta go” eyes turning up to look at him

you didn’t expect him to say much, it was the truth and the both of you knew it - no one could change that. the palm of his hand grazes gently against your cheeks as he begins to speak, eyes locking with your intently “ion know a clue how m’gonna do it but your coming with me” his mouth leans down to place a deep kiss against your lips pulling you up against him

“really” the excitement in your voice was obvious, you typically would have thought he was bluffing but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes proved otherwise. he was serious. “really. gonna get you out of here” it was as if he was also telling himself “ find you somewhere nice. somewhere where you belong…kay’ sweets” the words eased your restless mind. maybe he was right

and in that moment jj knew that no matter what, he was taking you with him. he had no clue how he was gonna do this but he knew it was happening and he’d rather stay here and die than leave you

[willowed-wisp]

relationship headcanons [ ghost ]

SFW

- You didn’t know what to expect being set up by your childhood friend Kyle Garrick

- Having an inkling it would be someone he worked with in the ‘parachute regiment’. So you expected 5’11”, stocky build and maybe a Mohawk?

- What you got was 6’4”, unable to tell what build he had because of the hoodies and a mask?

- He scared you to begin with, especially when you heard his voice. And Simon was used to that, that’s why he didn’t date… he couldn’t remember the last time he had sex or even spoke romantically to a woman.

- You thought about walking out on the date, but held in there. Realising maybe he was so awkward around the other people in the pub. “Wanna take a walk?”

- “Think you can keep up?” That was the first confident thing Simon had said that night.

- Maybe walking along the canal wasn’t the best choice but he seemed harmless, not a serial killer… He leant against the railings… his eyes reflected the street lamp, the night a dreary sight.

- You went to start your car, no such luck- like your date. He hadn’t told you one thing about himself… date failed and now your car refused to work with you. Your phone at 1% charge… you couldn’t even call a taxi.

- When you started to walk to the pub, an off-road jet black 4x4 pulled up beside you. It was Simon. “Car trouble?”

- “Yeah…”

- “Get in.” Was it a bad idea to jump into the car of someone you’d only just met and communicated with through Kyle? Yes. Were you in any position to turn down his kindness? No. “I’ll drive ya home…”

- Then the pin dropped, “My house keys are in the car,” A dry laugh came from him- trying to imagine what he looked like under that thing.

- “I can’t leave you on the street…” And that’s what led you straight into the passenger seat. His truck was spotless and surprisingly comfortable, like nobody had ever sat in that spot before you. “You can stay at mine for the night, don’t tell Garrick… he’ll have a field day….”

- “Thanks, but you could just drop me at a bus stop?” Not that you wanted that, not that you wanted anything from the good samaritan at the wheel.

- His head shook, “In this area? No chance, love,” You wondered how long he had travelled to go on this date because he had been driving half an hour before he pulled into a drive. From how he looked around getting out of the car and how high the garden hedge was, you thought it was lucky he hadn’t thrown a bag over your head.

- Not that you’d remember where he had taken you anyway.

- His house was almost barren, not many belongings. “Kitchen is on your left, living room on the right and bathroom is upstairs the first door you see…” He was talking much more than he had in the crowded environment.

- “D’ya have a phone charger? I’ll call Kyle to come get me tomorrow to look at the car…” He just gave you a stare, then you realised. Kyle didn’t live in your area anymore, over a hundred miles away. “Fuck…”

- “I’ll take a look at it in the morning…”

- “You sure? I can pay you fuel money,”

- Long story short, Simon turned down your money. And he kept coming back after he fixed your car, jotting your number down in case it gave you any more trouble.

- He doesn’t take his mask off until you have sex for the first time

- After that he rarely wears it when in private with you

- It’s weird when you have guests over (TF141) and he wears the damned thing

- You make sure you wash the masks every other day and make sure Simon alternates

- Never gets spots from them, either.

- Has tattoos but would never get a matching one with anyone

- He thinks it’s a jinx on any relationship or friendship

- You’re probably his first proper relationship

- Discloses he’s in the SAS when he gets deployed about a year into your relationship

- You never realised how worried sick you’d be until he got through the front door

- Bundles you in his arms, never taking the smell of your hair, perfume and skin for granted again

- Fixes all of your car troubles- he may have gone into mechanics had he had a settled childhood

- Finds it difficult to introduce you to the family, not because of you. Because of the baggage.

- His mother welcomed you but with caution in hand. Until you got talking to her and she just seemed to open up to you.

- She invites you round for dinner every Sunday. It makes Simon smile

- Never worked through his emotional baggage about his dad

- So when the subject of kids is brought up, he shudders

- You don’t press the matter, not with Simon

- He’s stubborn and you seem to be the only one who can change his mind

- Simon doesn’t fall in love easily but when he does, it’s deep and he’s never leaving your side

- Much more of a goofball than other people see- those dad jokes are primed and ready for an occasion

- Not a jealous guy, he knows you’re his…

- He’s more worried about you when he’s away

- It’s like a hole in his heart being away from you and he strives to get out uninjured and alive not to burden you

- Knows that if you can get past his work, you’ll get through anything

NSFW

- Your first time was very spontaneous, two months into you seeing him.

- The back of his car, you couldn’t remember the cause of it but you remember making out in the back of his truck

- Going out into the woodlands to cool off but instead, you were hitched on his hips and fingers dragging across his muscular shoulders.

- Clung to each other while his body rolled into yours, you biting down slightly on his clothes. Instead of purring his into the daylight air.

- It didn’t end there, the back of the truck and back at his.

- Practically never ending until the morning… where you’d lay on his chest. He was stroking through your hair

- Whenever he’s asleep, he recounts those memories and every encounter after that.. just so he can be close to you when away

- Surprisingly gentle- knows he’s a big guy

- Though he’s not without his rugged potential. Prefers not to be too rough

- Has sexual experience but nothing above 5 women and then it wasn’t reoccurring

- Doesn’t have a vice for sex, he loves feeling close to you

- Loves facing you, he loves that intimacy

- He’s quite an intimate guy

- Never wears the mask when you have sex

- If you ask him, he refuses… finds it difficult to open up about work and his experiences

- Closer than anybody else would be able to get, over his dead body

————

cod m.list | request guidelines | ghost m.list

[shrenvents]

hii can you do some dean smut, maybe he and reader meet in a dive bar or sum?? <3

a/n: sure thing, i hope u like 😉😘

Mind Games

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, v!penetration (protection used), language, fingering, some fluff, some jealousy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x you

Summary: You and Sam go way back. You and Dean as well, though he has no recollection of it, and for that, you make him pay.

Word Count: 4.1 k

...

The night had been long already when Sam texted you—“Hey, I'm in town. Drinks at Murphy's?”—but you didn’t hesitate to answer yes. It had been quite some time since you’d last seen him, and life had a funny way of pulling people apart after high school, though you and Sam tried to stay in touch here and there.

It hurt when he unexpectedly dropped out of school without explaining why, but thankfully he reconnected down the line, and the rest was history. He was just an easy friend, a good one you could pick up things with even after years of silence.

A dive bar wasn’t exactly your first choice. You preferred places with brighter lighting and cleaner, less sticky floors, without an old jukebox playing songs that were a hit, long before any patrons could remember. But Sam seemed to have a soft spot for them. It suited him, really—the unpretentious atmosphere, the cheap drinks. 

As you stepped past the creaky door, the scent of stale beer and cigarettes hit you like a wave of nostalgia. It reminded you of late nights sneaking into bars with Sam when you were underage, laughing too loud, worrying too little. The memory still made you smile.

You quickly spotted Sam, his broad frame hunched over a small booth in the corner, beer in hand. He looked up, eyes twinkling when he saw you, enthusiastically calling your name. Mid-wave, you froze and your heart skipped a beat after noticing who was sitting across from him —Dean. Sam’s older brother. 

Dean leaned back in his chair, lazily nursing a beer and his signature, cocky smirk as his eyes coasted his surroundings. He looked exactly the same, though his face was a little more rugged, and perhaps a little worn from life.

You’d had a ridiculous crush on Dean back in school. Your best friend's older brother. The guy who could make anyone laugh, who strode around like the world was his oyster. But he never noticed you. Not back then. Dean was too busy sleeping around, charming his way through the female student body, and leaving an abundance of broken hearts in his wake. The few times you were around him, he rarely glanced in your direction. And that was fine. Especially now, since you’ve grown up and moved on…

'Of course he's here,' you thought with an internal roll of your eyes, trying to steel yourself for the sudden rush of old, pitiful memories of unrequited love. You should've guessed he'd be here since Sam told you they'd hit the road together.

With a deep breath, you straightened out your shoulders and paced over, mustering all your strength to fix a calm smile onto your face as you greeted Sam, and his brother, who most likely wouldn’t really know you. "Long time no see," Sam remarked, standing to give you a bear hug, which you immediately returned. “Missed you."

"Missed you too," you replied with a pleased sigh. Your eyes then flickered to Dean for the briefest moment. He hadn’t moved, still reclined in his seat, watching you both with that curious tilt of his head. His silence stretched on long enough that it was clear—he didn’t recognize you.

'Typical,' you thought, and your smile tightened into a thin line as you slid into the booth. Ignoring the way Dean’s gaze dwindled, you decided two could play this game. It might be fun, even.

"Dean, you remember her now, don't you?" Sam asked, oblivious to the tension looming in the air as he gestured to you, hoping the in-person image would jog his memory.

Dean’s brows furrowed, and for a second, you swore you saw something flash behind his forest-coloured eyes. Then, as if he’d decided it wasn’t worth pretending, he shook his head, offering you a half-smile. You dismissed the swarming butterflies in your stomach, realizing this might just be the first time he's truly looked at you. And you’ve seen that look countless times from afar —it was the one he showed to the next girl he'd pick up.

"Sorry," Dean huffed dramatically, feigning disappointment having not remembered you. His voice was a low rumble that made your pulse quicken against your will. "Can’t say I do."

And there it was. Just as you expected. You’d spent countless afternoons back in high school, hanging out with Sam, romanticizing his older brother from the sidelines, praying he’d eventually give you the time of day. But Dean Winchester has always been… Well, Dean Winchester. And he always will be.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a smirk of your own, mimicking his relaxed demeanour. "Don’t worry about it. It’s been a while." Dean’s eyes narrowed momentarily, like he knew he’d missed something important, but had no clue what. Sam, ever the peacemaker, cut in with a laugh.

“Well, now that that's settled, drinks are on us. Let’s catch up.” Sam pushed a beer towards you and you downed nearly half, already determined to show that tonight, you weren't gonna be that quiet, shy, unnoticeable girl you were in school. If Dean noticed you now, he was in for one hell of a ride…

You and Sam probably spoke for less than an hour, because, unfortunately for Sam, he could barely get a word in with all of Dean's shameless flirting, which you somewhat entertained. Undoubtedly, neglecting him only egged him on more.

Throughout the night, after Sam gave up and wandered elsewhere, drunk and confused, Dean would make bold throwaway comments, steal lingering glances, and release that low chuckle every time you defiantly teased him. At first, it was satisfying—this was the guy you used to dream about noticing you, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off you. But as the hours ticked by, you recalled all too well who Dean really was: a player. A guy who’d probably seen countless women come and go without a second thought. However, now, with him slowly inching towards you, it was becoming increasingly difficult to disregard the urge to go home with him to spare your dignity.

The second the ragged surface of his jeans started grazing your thigh, you excused yourself to get another drink. Strutting over to the bar, you felt his eyes bore into your backside and a shiver racked down your spine. Rather dizzyly, you ordered another drink but were surprised when a tall stranger offered to pay for it. Despite the unwanted attention, with Dean eyeing you both, you selected to make this stranger an outlet for a potential mistake.

So just for show, you leaned in a little too close, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, ambling with your drink as if you were reluctant to return to Dean. His gaze was burning holes into the man's head the entire time, and you knew this was doing wonders to Dean's inflated ego. 

Then you heard a loud thud behind you, and just as you turned around, Dean was already there, standing close by, staring daggers into the stranger you ironically couldn't remember the name of. Dean then glanced down at you, wordlessly demanding eye contact, and you're rooted to the floor when his hand brazenly brushes across your lower back, to rest comfortably on your hip. "Hey," he smiled as his gaze softened, marking the smooth return of his playboy facade.

"How about we get outta here?" Dean whispered into your ear while his nose skimmed your hair. Subtly taking a deep breath, you seductively beam up at him and note how his grip tightened on your side as if he had to brace himself. "Exactly what I was thinking," you whispered back and Dean's eyes fluttered, and you're so close he likely thinks you're about to kiss, but you have other plans.

"Wanna go?" You asked the man you nearly forgot about, who seems almost as stunned as you sense Dean is. He takes a sharp intake of breath at his rejection, virtually staggering back from you, and the moment his hand lifts from your hot flesh, you slip away and grab the stranger's forearm, swiftly hauling him outside with you, without looking back. As you left, you waved goodbye to Sam. "I'll call you tomorrow," you said with an energetic wink, unable to conceal how giddy you were.

After your dramatic exit, you made it clear to the poor stranger that you had no intention of taking things any further than a walk to your car. But Dean didn’t know that. 

…

The very next day, you made more plans with Sam to make up for yesterday's turn of events, but Dean was relentless. For that whole week in fact. He obviously forced Sam to give him your number, and since then, there have been numerous texts, calls, and unexpected visits. Each time he found you, his approach became more serious, more focused, and still, you’d reject him every time, in a rather absentminded way, which drove him mad. You grew to love the way it made him squirm.

Today was one of those days, at a quiet little bar far from the one you met at, the conversation quickly turned south from the usual banter.

He’d barely sat down before that trademark smirk was back. His green eyes glinted as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between you, his fingers grazing yours. The touch was subtle, but deliberate—like he was testing the waters. You pulled your hand back just a fraction, enough for him to notice but not enough to discourage him. You were growing unsure of who you were punishing at this point.

"Missed me?" Dean's voice was deep, smooth, and far too confident for someone who’d been chasing you all week and failing miserably. You rolled your eyes playfully and took a sip of your drink. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just wanted to get a quiet drink," you quipped. Dean chuckled, undeterred, shaking his head. "Right, right. That’s why you agreed to meet me here. For a ‘quiet' drink." His voice dripped with mischievous sarcasm, and an undertone of sexual frustration.

You couldn’t help but grin. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." You crossed your legs and kicked out one, lightly touching Dean's, and he tensed. He then closed in, his fingers gently touching the back of your hand, this time pausing just long enough to send a quake up your arm. "You like to keep me guessing, don’t you?" He wet his lips, eyes darting to yours, which were shrivelling up with anticipation.

"Maybe," you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Or maybe I just like taking you down a few pegs." Dean laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sounded a bit like a scoff and sent a rush of heat through you. He didn’t pull away, and the teasing glow in his eyes eased for just a moment as he studied you.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" His voice dropped a notch, and his regard danced across your skin. "Ever since that night at Murphy's… I haven’t stopped thinking about you."

Though your pulse was racing, you shifted away, pretending to be unimpressed. "I'm sure you say that to all the ladies," you taunted with a roll of your eyes. Dean shook his head, his smile fading a little. "This isn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "Oh Please. Not even a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I didn’t remember you from school. But Sam and I've moved around so much; I never bothered to remember anyone." He winced, as if admitting it aloud stung a little. "Though I have no idea how I don't remember you. I wish I did," he expressed, and he sounded so sincere that you nearly swooned.

"But things are different now. This is different," he proclaimed, eyes wild with a fiery determination. You arched an eyebrow, scooting forward. "So, what’s this been about then?" Though you question Dean, you give him no time to respond, pressing on. "You're just upset that I didn’t fall into your lap like all the others?"

Dean’s eyes were ablaze, and he didn't retract into his seat. If anything, he dipped in closer. "Sorry I hurt your ego," you added, half-sarcastic, half-challenging. He shook his head and his jaw clenched. "Maybe it started out that way," he acknowledged, but his tone held not a trace of his usual humour. "But really, it isn’t like that anymore."

You tilted your head, intrigued by the sincerity in his voice, but confused by his articulation. You’d expected him to laugh it off, throw out a line, but this? This felt… as he said, different. Not to mention the way he was looking at you—like he was seeing you, really seeing you—made your heart skip a beat.

"Oooohhh, okay then," you mocked slowly, drawing out the words. "Tell me, what’s it like Dean?" If you weren't paying such close attention to him, you might have missed how his breath hitched and how his eyes darkened while he inched closer to you. The impish atmosphere between you two had suddenly altered, the circulating tension becoming thick and electric. His hand moved to your thigh under the table, his touch scalding, steady, while his other hand weaved through your fingers.

"It’s like…" He trailed off, his voice a whisper now, his lips brushing your ear. "Every time I see you, I have to resist the urge to…" He paused, cutting himself short as he moved back slightly. His breath was warm on your skin and he peered down at your lips once again, however this time, he appeared vulnerable.

"To what?" You whispered, barely able to get the words out as your heart pounded against your ribs. Dean’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours, his hand tautening on your leg, his thumb slowly rubbing your inner thigh. "To kiss you."

Before you could respond he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden, heated intensity that took your breath away. You melted into the kiss. All the teasing, the banter, the back-and-forth disappeared as you instinctively tangled your fingers into his hair, drawing him in.

Dean groaned softly against your lips, pleased by your instant reaction. His hand moved from yours to cup your cheek, his thumb gently gliding over your flushed skin as the kiss deepened. It was slow at first, then building, and heat swarmed your core when the hand gripping your thigh slid upwards. You felt the pent-up tension you'd been feeling all week, and since the moment you saw him, spill into your actions. He pressed flush against you, leaving no space, and you laid your legs overtop of his lap. His tongue licked your lips surface, grazing your teeth and you gasped, pulling away as much as he allowed.

Breathless and panting, Dean rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That’s what it’s like," he rasped airily, his voice hoarse. And for the first time, you believed him. Things may really be different.

As you got lost in your thoughts, he began to chant your name with that same smile widening. Both his hands then seized your upper arms, shaking you tenderly as he repeated your name. "Tell me what you're thinking," he more or less pleaded.

"I'm thinking that, if I find out you're lying to get in my pants, I'll kill you," you smirked devilishly, peering up at him through hooded eyes. His eyes morphed into a darker shade of black, turned on by your threat. You giggled, lightly shaking your head. "I can't fake this baby," Dean sweet talks, and you note how his manner seems looser now that he's gotten how he feels off his chest.

He pecks your cheek. "You know, I was pretty hurt when you left with that guy the other night," he huffed like the memory still haunted him. You stifled your laugh. "Uh-huh?" His eyes narrowed at your teasing response, though his smile hardly wavered. "You think that's funny?"

"Yeah," you replied immediately with a shrug. "Especially since I was deliberately messing with you." Dean's brows shot into his forehead, creasing it in utter disbelief and bafflement. "I didn't sleep with him Dean," your tone lowers wantonly, "like I said, I wanted to take you down a few pegs."

His wide eyes crinkled as he erupted with laughter, stammering "touché" in between chuckles. You laughed along, admiring how carefree he was at that moment. When his stream of laughter died out, you gulped at the strange look he suddenly showed. "It's a shame," he stated cryptically. Your face twisted with puzzlement, which made Dean's dreamlike expression grow, apparently in deep contemplation. "What?" You snapped jokingly.

"Oh nothing," he sighed while his palms skated down to your torso, cupping your ribcage as he looked to the distance sadly. You smacked his side which made a snort escape him. "Oh, just... If only you left with me that night," he remarked dolefully, unable to hide that glint of lust-fueled wit. "If only," you reiterated with a strained sound, also unable to hide your looping thoughts, which were clouded by desire. "How about we make that happen?" He kissed your other cheek. His lips lingered there and his breath fanned your skin. "How about it?" You responded airily and Dean laughed at your consistent repetition, clearly trying to push his buttons in a way he's grown to love.

Without another word, he slides out of the booth and gently ushers you out, onto your feet, holding your hand firmly in his. With his spare hand, he drops some cash on the table and pulls you to his hip. He walked you both outside, leading you towards his car and you shuddered at the sight. It reminded you of the countless times he'd pick up Sam from school and you'd watch him from afar. The number of fantasies you had of him and that car made your body surge with a fierce, intoxicating need.

He opened his passenger seat and propped you inside, and you obediently admired his every move until he sat behind the wheel. One glimpse of his profile darting from you to the windscreen pushed you off the edge.

"Fuck," you quickly murmured, catching Dean off guard when you abruptly pounced on him, straddling his thighs. You cupped his dome, tugging on his short locks while his hands shot to your waist, dragging you downwards so he could grind into you. You both moaned into the messy kiss, so close to satisfaction, yet so far. He groaned your name when your lips moved to his neck, desperate to leave a mark. He reluctantly tried to halt your attack, but your need overpowered all logic. "I can't wait," he grunted when he wretched your face from his neck. Dean's head thumped against the seat's leather headrest and his eyes were glossy with a sort of determination.

"Get in the back," is all he ordered before he hastily assisted you onto the backseat. He climbed on top of you after grabbing a condom from the glove compartment, following your mouth eagerly, and pecking it a few times as he laid you down. "God you're sexy," he groaned. He then yanked off his jacket and shirt in two swift motions before that familiar smug expression consumed his features. "You're unbelievable," you scoffed and his smirk grew.

"I get that a lot," he commented jokingly and you smacked his side harder than before, displaying your exasperation. He laughed and you threaded your fingers into his hair again to shut him up. His mouth collided with yours, and his hands frantically removed both of your clothes. He sweared loudly when you bucked your hips up and rub his bulge —now covered by his boxers alone. His deep voice let out a surprising whimper when you did it again, this time using your hands to drag him down, clutching his defined hips.

You then had a sudden craving to admit to him how much you longed for this moment, but you opted for: "fuck me." Dean growled into your ear before kissing you rather harshly as he took himself out of his briefs. He cupped your bare breast, which is still partially hidden by your bra since he was too transfixed elsewhere to remove it completely.

When his cock hit your abdomen and he slid on the condom, you hummed a moan, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. "Jesus," he mumbled under his breath when his tip breached your slit. He smoothly glided inside, as if you were two puzzle pieces melding together. Your heart panged and you gasped, while Dean muttered nonsensically. He reared back to look into your eyes once he bottomed out. When he pulled away, his very breath abandoned his lungs as if his soul was now connected to your lips, and you'd be keeping it with you now and forever. For once, he actually felt like putty in someone's hands, and he didn't hate it. Not when you felt like Heaven, after years of experiencing Hellfire.

Underneath him, you remarked on how it felt to finally be touched by Dean... Addictive. Unhurriedly, he guided both your arms above your head, stretching out your spine, and holding your wrists in place with a single hand. The air stilled and you listened to his rapid heartbeats. The tension was palpable as his mouth descended onto yours —quickly going from slow and passionate, to needy and frenzied. Dean suddenly thrust and you yelped, which made him cease his movements immediately. He attempted to pull away from your mouth but you raised your head to pull him back down, unable to do anything else, not with your arms still hoisted above you. You rolled your hips into him and he released a lengthy grunt of approval, clearly understanding that you wanted him to resume his pounding.

He sped up his thrusting and you could barely hold back your cries, loving his strength and weight caging you in, and taking you roughly. Even though his lower half was aggressive, it was still Dean writhing into you, looking down at you with such tenderness, and kissing you in ways that made you hopelessly expect more. At this point, you'd take whatever he'd give you and thank him for it.

"Don't stop," you nearly shouted when your legs begun to shake. He released an animalistic sound, his strokes becoming increasingly choppy. Dean heaves your name, muttering, "You're some kind of fantasy, you know that?" Before you could respond he captured your lips, moaning into your mouth while his fingers slipped between you two. Suddenly his digits rubbed circles onto your clit and you gasped loudly, whining into his all-consuming kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt Dean smirk, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reprimand him when he makes you reach your climax, which rushes over you like a tidal wave, crashing into shore with a loud sob.

"Fuck," Dean's hips stuttered into you, and his eyes squeezed shut as he came, letting go of your wrists to prop himself up in a plank. He breathed in and out slowly, eyelids eventually fluttering open to witness you already surveying him, entranced by his face when it's full of ecstasy. "That was... Fucking amazing," he panted as he monitored your reddened complexion. You nodded, though you shied away from his gaze, feeling all too vulnerable, afraid that history was repeating itself, and you were already head-over-heels for Dean Winchester.

As your mind wandered into a dark place, Dean's calloused finger pads grabbed your attention when they caressed your jaw, swiping your cheek. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," he chuckled airily to himself before continuing, "and give me a chance to do that again—many, many times."

Now it's his turn to seem sheepish and you laugh, partially in shock. "No strings attached?" You arched a brow as you questioned what you were, despite having not gone on an actual date yet. He displayed a genuine smile as he shook his head no. "I'm already tangled up in them," he confessed with a shrug.

Your heart flipped and you fought to remain stoic. You then lifted your index finger above your nose, right in his eye line. "I'm givin' you one chance... To do that, over and over again," you whispered sensually, biting back your shit-eating grin. A giddy, boyish look took over Dean's face and your laughter burst through, making your core clench around him and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"How about we start that 'one chance' right now?" You purred, smirking at the way his eyes playfully narrowed. "Gladly."

[no-road-home]

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern on Backerkit now!

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern is a GMless one-to-three shot TTRPG based on games like MF0: Firebrands and The Sundered Land. It's a collection of 20 mini-games where former adventurers open a tavern together and reintegrate into society after a life on the road.

What happens after the adventure? What does daily life in a fantasy world look like? Stewpot draws inspiration from stories like Dungeon Meshi, Redwall, Frieren, and Bartender, as well as various aspects of D&D. It's a great way to wrap up a long-running fantasy TTRPG campaign.

Start a garden, cook monsters, run a festival booth, reforge old weapons, flirt with mysterious strangers, and more in a new version of the game with tons of art and new storybook-style layout!

(more info and full description of the mini-games in the read more!)

The structure of the game is based on characters having an Adventurer Job, with Adventurer Experiences that represent their abilities and powers, and a Town Job with Town Experiences. You can make new characters just for the game, or bring in old characters and recreate them with the existing Experiences or write your own.

As you play the game, you'll cross off Adventurer Experiences as you let go of them or let them fade into the background, and gain new Town Experiences that take their place. Along the way you'll upgrade your Tavern and give each other Keepsakes!

Games from the old Itch.io PDF version (0.41):

The First Step: Before you decided to put down roots here, before you found this group of friends, what were you doing? What was the first thing you learned about how to live in town?

NPC Sidequest: Your adventuring days may be over, but there are plenty of people in town that could use your help.

Wear and Tear: There’s always something to fix, or clean, or pay off.

Market Day: You never would have guessed how many things you need just to keep a tavern running. 

Homegrown: There’s something special about using ingredients grown nearby. Why not give growing your own a try?

Sliced: Sometimes supply routes get disrupted. Or maybe you just want to stand out from the rest of the taverns. Whatever the reason, you’re playing this game because you want or need to do one thing: cook with monster parts.

Romancing a Stranger: Someone in the tavern makes eye contact with you, and their gaze lingers a little longer than you’d expect. Your co-workers urge you on, and make every excuse they can to send you over to talk to the lovely Stranger.

Off the Clock: Where do you go after the tables are wiped down? Who’s heard every story you have about the worst people who have walked in?

A Friendly Tavern Brawl: Every tavern has its rowdy patrons. You know they’re good at heart, but sometimes when the ale is flowing and spirits are high, things get a little out of hand. How do you handle the situation?

Festival Day: Your town has a few festival days a year, and they’re some of your busiest. How do you prepare? How do you handle the influx of people?

A Bard's Tale: During your time as an adventurer, you accomplished many daring deeds. In fact, some of those deeds are retold to this day by travelling bards.

A Glass of the Gods: Sometimes a troubled adventurer will come in, looking for answers, and letting them drink themselves into oblivion is the wrong answer. It's up to you  to  mix the perfect drink, something perfect for the situation that can push the adventurer to look inside and find the answer on their own.

A Distinguished Guest: Someone important is in town, and they’re already almost here. The tavern has to be at its best for this guest. After all, they might leave a generous tip.

In the Rhythm of Things: Time passes. Rough edges are sanded down. Before you know it, life in town has become like breathing. You gather in your favorite part of the tavern and wonder where the time has gone.

New games for this crowdfunding campaign:

Shields and Skillets: Enchantments are volatile things, especially when they sit unused for long periods of time. You have to let go of your old equipment before it’s too late.

Shelter from the Storm: Early one morning, you feel it. A familiar ache in your bones. Something is coming.

A Funeral: As an adventurer, you said farewell many times. Sometimes it was only temporary. Most of the time, it wasn't. 

Retracing: You've left town for something: an errand, a vacation, an old favor. Suddenly, you recognize the route you're traveling. You've been this way before, during your adventuring days.

A Fleeting Memory: Something about the way the fire flickers lingers in your mind. The smell of hay and clover brings a tear to your eye. A fading memory resurfaces.

A Familiar Face: An old friend you haven't seen in a while has stopped by. Why not show them around the town and the tavern?

[yelenasdiary]

I saw your request were open and I’ve been dying to send you this request. I was wondering if you could do a top F reader x bottom Wanda. Reader is an eternal and their also deaf. They first met Wanda after the wandavision events. They have a one night stand and Wanda finds one she’s pregnant (reader has a penis} so now they’re trying to navigate the pregnancy and their relationship. They agree to do parent but as time goes on they start to fall in love! Please add a bunch of smut and fluff! Maybe some angst please

Take Me Home

Pairing:  Wanda Maximoff x Eternal, Fem! & Deaf! Reader

Summary:  A one night stand changes everything for the better.

Angst, Fluff & Brief Mention of Smut. 18+ ONLY, Minors & Men DNI!

Warnings: Mentions of Drinking, Reader has a penis, Unprotected Sex, Oral (Wanda Receiving), Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Mentions of Abortion | 2.5K

AC: Please know that I am not Deaf. So I write this purely on research, if I have said anything wrong or offensive, please kindly message me so I can fix it. I mean absolutely no harm. Reader communicates via sign language, so all conversations are in italics, this means they are signing and not verbally speaking. Thank you for sending this, although I didn’t include a full smut scene I still hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid's Dream Masterlist

Two pink lines stared back at her while her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was true before she even took the test, tears filled her eyes as she remembered the events that took place in Westview. Now in hiding, the ex-Avenger only had herself to fall back on. It was the one time she decided to grab a hot meal at the local bar near her remote mountainside cabin in the woods of Sokovia when she met you. 

You were having a few drinks by yourself when the woman sat only inches beside you at the bar. She was troubled, her sad presence screamed to you as you turned to her slightly and gave her a soft welcoming smile. She smiled back, even though she could barely bring herself to form the returning smile. 

“Rough Day?” you asked in sign language. She nodded, “rough couple of months” she signed back.

“Here, let me.” You smiled once more before placing a $10 bill on the bar to pay for her drink, “it seems you need something good right now” you signed. 

“Thank you” the woman smiled softly before taking a sip of her wine. 

She intrigued you to say the least, you’d never seen her around here before and assumed she was new to the small town, if you’d even call it that. The small street of buildings was only built for loggers that worked high in the mountains; it had the essentials. A small general store for basic needs, a mechanic and hardware store, a bakery, a doctor’s office and of course the bar which also acted as a restaurant. A small population of 100 people lived around here, well, 101 now that you’d made a cabin home for the past three months. 

You tried to go back to doing your own thing, having a drink, and completing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper but the woman’s running mind distracted your focus. You turned to face her only to notice she was already looking at you. Her eyes spoke a million words and suddenly you knew she wasn’t like anybody else in the bar. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you asked. She was hesitant at first, taking another sip of her drink so she didn’t waste your money, but she nodded.

“Are you here for me?” Wanda asked while the two of you walked slowly down the single road street covered in snow. “No. I am just a stranger you met in a bar” you replied with a soft smile in hopes it would ease her worries. It didn’t take Wanda very long to work out that you weren’t like everybody else in this town, there was a different kind of communication between the two of you. She could hear your thoughts just as much as you could hear hers. Although you knew very little of the woman, you knew enough to know she was in pain. 

----

Wanda’s mind replayed that night after you’d walked her home. How her nails dug deeply into your back as your lips were interlocked with hers and the way you reach for the bedsheets as your tongue overstimulated her clit but more importantly, she remembered the way you made her feel and how she’d never felt the things you made her feel, how you were able to make her forget even just for that night how much she was truly hurting. 

Those thoughts brought her back to the two pink lines staring back at her. “Fuck” she mumbled quietly to herself as she placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t having a moment while washing her hands that her twin boys that she missed deeply and how badly she wished to hold them just once more. 

Wanda rang your doorbell, a blue light flickered throughout your small cabin to alert you somebody was at the door. Wanda was the last person you expected to be standing on the other side, even if you sensed it was her before you even turned the knob. 

“Wanda how are you?” you asked, greeting her with a soft smile. She didn’t return the smile; her eyes were slightly puffy and red. “Is everything okay?” you asked. 

“Can I come in? we need to talk” she replied. You nodded, moving to the side to allow her to walk into your home. “I’m really sorry to come here out of the blue” she turned to you as you closed the door behind her. 

“Don’t stress, it’s okay. Not sure how you found my address but it’s okay” you chuckled in hopes it would lighten the mood, but it didn’t. 

“I’m pregnant” she said, getting to the point. The news shocked you a little but explained why you felt she didn’t arrive alone. “I don’t expect you to do anything or even want to be a part of this. I just thought you had a right to know” Wanda added. 

“It takes two to tangle, are you okay?” you replied trying to process the news. Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as she shrugged, “I d-don’t know, I made some mistakes that lead me to the reason why I even moved here” she explained, wiping the falling tears from her cheeks. You knew what she was talking about, you were an Eternal, of course you knew but you weren’t allowed to do anything about the events of Westview, and you didn’t ask too many questions about the situation. 

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, I am here for you and the baby. Whatever you decide to do, I am here. If you want to keep it, we will work it out. If you want to have an abortion, I will be there to hold your hand” you smiled ever so softly before you reached to get her a tissue. Wanda looked you in the eyes, allowing you to hear all her worries and concerns. 

You reached for her hand, “you’re not alone. We are in this together” you assured her. “We barely know each other. I do not expect you to step up like this” Wanda replied. 

“Let’s start with meeting up for coffee, well, decaf coffee. How does that sound? We can get to know each other more and talk about what is on your mind and if you want to go through with this or not” you offered. 

Wanda nodded as a light smile tugged at her lips, “I would like that, thank you”.

----

As the weeks went on, you and Wanda met for coffee three times a week. Most of the conversations were about getting to know one another and sometimes Wanda would bring up a worry or concern she had. You never asked her if she had made a decision on whether she would be keeping the baby or not, you felt that was something she would tell you when she was ready. 

Of course, one of Wanda’s most worrying concern was the baby’s health and what it meant for the baby to be born with the shared genes of a Witch and an Eternal. Both with so much power and abilities, it was something that Wanda couldn’t shake. This led to you telling her everything you knew about your abilities and powers. 

“This baby is going to be more than a handful of surprises” Wanda smiled softly making your eyes widen with excitement. 

“Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” you asked. Wanda nodded, “I want to have this baby. I want to do this with you and its okay if you don’t want to do this” she replied. You stood up from your seat and embraced Wanda in a hug, “I want to do this with you as well” you smiled as you both pulled away.

“I guess this means we have a lot more to talk about” Wanda smiled. 

----

You didn’t want to miss a single moment during Wanda’s pregnancy, it was a conversation that you brought to the table before Wanda asked if you’d like to come spend a couple nights a week at her place. You loved cooking for her every night and making her breakfast in bed when her morning sickness went away. After so many years of seeming almost everything, you never thought you’d find something so special again. 

Life was growing in front of your eyes, you finally had something to be excited about once again. A new chapter was opening up for you, a new life, a life you never thought you’d be able to have so the thought never crossed your mind and Wanda could see just how happy you were. She saw the smile on your face whenever she caught you admiring the ultra-sound photo, she saw the sparkle in your eyes whenever the two of you had a conversation about the baby. 

But for Wanda, it wasn’t the same. Although she was happy about having a baby, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking of her boys and how she wondered what they would think of a baby sibling. She wondered how they would react, she wondered if they would wish for a baby brother or sister, she wondered if they had their own name ideas to add to the list you and Wanda had slowly began to dot down. 

“What were they like? Your boys” you asked Wanda one night while she was lost in thought. She looked at you and smiled softly at the thought of talking about her twins. “They were perfect. Tommy is my little prankster” she starts with a chuckle, “he was always getting himself in all sorts of mischief. Billy, he was the opposite. He loved video games and training our dog Sparky. Both boys loved their ice cream and movie night” the smile on her lips only grew wider as she talked more about the beloved twins. 

“They sound like a lot of fun; you must miss them” you placed a hand on top of Wanda’s for comfort. 

“I do, a lot” A tear rolled down her cheek. You could tell she needed a shift of conversation and offered to make her a banana split milkshake to fill her cravings. 

----

At six months, you and Wanda had grown closer. You were both wanting this co-parenting plan to work and began to look around for a home to move into together. The two of you would decorate the nursey together, Wanda using her powers to move the furniture around to save the hassle of you both burning yourselves out doing it. You went to every doctor’s appointment with Wanda and kept every ultra-sound photo they offered. Wanda loved seeing how excited and happy you were and as time went on, she found herself becoming more comfortable with the fact the twins weren’t here to share this new chapter with her. 

“How did you book this place?” Wanda asked after the waiter seated you both. It was Wanda’s birthday and you wanted to do something special for her, so you booked reservations at a restaurant she’d been talking about a lot recently. 

“I know the owner, they kind of owe me a favour” you replied before picking up the menu. Things had slightly been a little different between you both, usually you could hear each other’s thoughts and feelings but recently you had trouble connecting with Wanda that way. You thought maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy and maybe she just wanted that extra bit of privacy, so you tried not to think about it as much, but it was hard when you found yourself falling for her. 

“This is certainly a surprise, thank you” Wanda smiled. You returned the smile but quickly used the menu to hide the blushing of your cheeks. This was a new feeling that you had no control over. 

“Has something happened? Between us?” Wanda asked shortly after finishing her main meal, you shook your head before taking a mouthful of your drink. “Not at all, have I done something to make you think that?” you asked. 

“You just seem a little distant lately, that’s all” Wanda replied. 

“I’m sorry. I just thought that with only a few months left until the baby arrives that you might want some more alone time” you explained, not entirely a lie but a good enough excuse to stop her from thinking it was something more. 

“You know, we have spoken a lot about myself over the last few months but you don’t like to share much. I am here for you like you are for me and if you want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. We’re in this together, remember?” Wanda said looking deeply into your eyes. You took another mouthful of your drink and deep breath before replying. 

“I used to have a family and friends, but some went back to planet Olympia, some stayed on Earth and are trying to live a normal life, but I never felt like I fitted in anywhere. Not here and not in Olympia. I have been on my own for many years and I was getting tired of living this repetitive life. But when you said you wanted to keep the baby, everything changed for me. You have given me something new and exciting, a new life and I don’t want to ruin it because of something I can’t control” you explained.

“Why would you think you would ruin this? I would never stop you from being in our baby’s life if things didn’t work out with our plan” Wanda assured you. 

“Feelings weren’t apart of the plan” you replied. 

Wanda froze for a moment before she stood from her seat, you did the same thinking she was leaving but instead she walked up to you and gently cupped your face and kissing you deeply. You kissed her back, your hands resting gently on her lips, ever so slightly pulling her closer to you as you deepened the kiss. 

“Take me home” Wanda smiled softly as you both pulled away for air.

----

You woke up to find Wanda’s side of the bed empty, there was only one place she would be. You walked down the hall and there she was, cradling your baby girl back to sleep. The sight in front of you made you smile softly before you walked up behind Wanda, wrapping your arms around her and placing a kiss on her cheek. Wanda smiled softly, never taking her eyes off the little girl in her arms. 

Your body moved with Wanda’s until the little girl’s eyes came to a close and Wanda carefully placed her back in her crib. She turned in your arms to face you, kissing you softly. 

“I know it was your turn to tend to her, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s perfect” Wanda smiled. “Next time, wake me. I don’t want to miss a single thing” you replied before kissing her once more.

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[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 1 ~ THE SURVIVORS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: i cannot holler enough about how excited i've been to post this

chapter warnings: mentions of suicide, somewhat vividly described sick people, one mildly creepy dude, not a very juicy chapter because ya girl has to set everything up

chapter word count: 4.2k

The day they came, the sky ran red.

Red like cherry candy. Red like blood.

There were no warnings to indicate the end of life as it was. The ceiling of your world - of everyone’s - was its same innocent blue until, irrevocably, it wasn’t. One by one, the things blipped into humanity’s airspace, swarming in like they owned it, and the blue was vanquished, taking the status quo with it.

You were watching through the window of the lab instead of monitoring the cells you’d been culturing. The sound of shattering glass as one of your colleagues dropped something informed you that you were not the only one who wasn’t paying attention to their work; you rushed into the common room, where another colleague was switching to the news channel.

The source of the feeling of impending doom that had clouded your thoughts since that morning was confirmed as your eyes fixed on the screen. Before, you’d chalked it down to procrastination and yearning for the weekend, but as you watched one of the objects in the sky whizz down and make a landing space for itself by demolishing a block of flats with nothing a blast of light and smoke, you realised just where it came from.

Your boss cursed next to you, colourful and far too crude for the workspace.

As you saw what she was seeing on the TV, you decided you’d forgive her.

A previously invisible ramp in the side of what must be a spaceship had opened, and down it came a horse, a white horse, shining and resplendent, and yet the rider was the opposite - sallow faced and gaunt, arms too long and spindly with too thin skin stretching over fragile ribs. Worse was the face: it was all wrong. The nose seemed too high up, the mouth grotesquely wide and smiling.

You wished you could tear your eyes away, but you were transfixed, with the same horrified fascination a child watches a snail wither and shrivel into itself upon encountering salt.

The rider reached back with finger bones like spider’s legs and retrieved an arrow from the quiver on its back. The camera jolted as the cameraman took a step back, and began to shake as its head snapped to the side, its gaze catching on the lens. You recoiled, unadulterated fear rearing in your head, slicing through your thoughts - those eyes, like black holes, like endless hunger, pinned on you as if they could devour you through the screen.

You knew it then. You knew it, as if the thought had been planted in your head, a seed of fear and wrongness. This is your end, you heard, in a voice as black and velvet as night, and with so much depth it was as if there were thousands speaking at once. It cleaved through your head: The first horseman has come.

In a move too powerful and smooth for arms that spindly, the rider shot its arrow, and you saw it fly, so close to the camera you could almost taste the reek of illness as it tore by, burrowing itself into the cameraman's shoulder. The view pitched and fell, lurching towards the red sky before a new angle took its place.

You’d wished it hadn’t. From the new camera, you could see the cameraman who was hit retching and coughing, clutching the arrow buried in his shoulder. It thrummed from the impact, grotesquely sticking out like an extra limb, strange and stiff and now part of him. His torso undulated, convulsing, and he vomited up something big and bloody enough to be an organ onto the road. Behind him, the crowd was backing away, but you already saw the signs of infection - a woman covering her hand with her mouth as a cough wracked her body, a man pressing a palm to his side as his stomach cramped.

The first horseman had come.

Pestilence.

Soon after that, your colleagues began to rush home with wild, frantic eyes. You sat there, frozen, staring at the TV screen that had long since gone blank. Your parents called, their tinny voices breaking up every few seconds - no doubt millions of people were calling their own families all across the world - and told you to stay where you were to avoid infection until the authorities got everything under control.

They were sure it would all turn out alright. You weren’t - you made sure you told them you loved them before hanging up.

Next your sister called, coughing. She’d been working her shift at the hospital when the first horseman struck. There were no cures they could find, no concoctions that worked, no injections or antibodies or anything: they couldn’t even see what was causing the sickness, because the scans showed nothing unusual. Some patients held on longer than others, alive and just showing normal flu symptoms while others died before they could even reach the hospital.

You stayed on the line with her until she lied and told you she’d be alright, making a half assed excuse about feeding the dog so she could hang up.

You knew she just didn’t want you to hear her die.

It felt like cheating - it still feels like that - to be locked up in the lab, enveloped in silence aside from the hollow sound of you breathing and the growl of your stomach, safe while the rest of the world is either dead or collapsed and dying.

You’re beginning to wonder if you’re the last one. Not just because you didn’t glimpse anyone on your brief trips to the petrol station nearby to pilfer food, three masks secured over your face, but because your phone’s dead and the sockets in the lab don’t charge it. Power is down. Water is down, too.

Humanity is on its knees.

Yet still you hope, sitting with your legs tucked to your chest, wedged between the centrifuge and a table that’s set up with a long dead computer. You stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll hear footsteps, wondering when the rustling outside turns out to be a human, not a starving, half diseased fox; there has to be someone - you refuse any other alternative.

You’ve waited for someone to come and rescue you, for the TV to switch back on and a smiling reporter to tell you that it was all some gruesome puppet show put on by some crazy cult, that they’re all in custody and that everyone is fine. That everything is fine. You’ve waited, but no news has come. Still you won’t admit you’re on your own.

You can’t be the last one, and yet it feels that way - like you’re just a solitary, lone heartbeat in a city that used to be full of life, a reluctant survivor drowning in a sea of bodies.

Your head lists to one side, pressing your cheek against the cool metal of the side of the centrifuge so you don’t have to stare down the long space between the lab benches: it’s like being an air stewardess in the aisle of a plane, but the only passengers you have left to inform about safety precautions are the judgemental plastic chairs.

The lab is twice as long as it is wide, with two lab benches against each wall and one free standing one all the way through the middle. Normally, the huge space is a relief, because the previous labs you’ve worked in were at best cramped and at worst sweaty and bereft of air con, but now, it just makes you feel smaller, more alone.

Dim light filters through the gaping side of one of the blinds. For a few days, you kept the blinds open, hoping you’d be able to see if anyone was coming to save you, but you’ve closed them now. Looking out of the glass only ends in seeing bodies on the lifeless pavement outside.

In your dreams, your friends and family slam their hands against the windows, their mouths open in bloody screams, begging you to let them in. Each time, you try, and each time, the door won’t budge. Still, they accuse you, cursing and yelling, saying that you’re a greedy, useless coward.

Sometimes, you agree with them.

Their ships still hover overhead in the crimson sky, as if they’re watching the suffering they’ve caused, rubbing their hands together gleefully while supping on human fear, witnessing with greedy eyes as their first horseman of the apocalypse wipes out everyone - except, apparently, for you.

There’s a strange silence that hangs over the city, as if even the earth is holding its breath. No planes roar overhead, no cars horn in the streets, no trains hiss to a stop in the station - your world has lost its heartbeat. The quiet smothers you, suffocating, reminding you exactly who you are: a survivor, who even when granted luck and life, wishes it was someone else who made it out, someone else who has to shoulder the burden of trying to live in this mess.

To your left, on the table with the computer, there’s a small pile of knives, neatly stacked and ordered in size and sharpness. You took them from the kitchen on day six, the day after the water stopped. You’ve survived them and their temptation for a whole week now, pretending that they’re for your protection, but you’re still all too aware that your life has a timer on it, and there’s an all too easy way to end it early.

You can’t, though. You can’t do it. You tried, but you can’t - you couldn’t even pierce your own weak flesh with the dull steel, nor could you draw blood to stain that same steel the same red as the sky. Some voice within told you that you would be squandering humanity’s last hope at survival and filled you with enough guilt to not touch the knife pile again.

It’s just that you don’t want to be the last hope. You don’t want to be the one who fights valiantly to survive. Undoubtedly, that makes you a coward, for wanting to give in, for allowing things to just happen to you. Your mind won’t let you forget that. Even that is a weakness in itself.

The moment you decided to remain in the lab, not an inkling of a plan in your head, you doomed yourself to an isolated end.

At least if you had left, you wouldn’t have had to die alone.

It’s with that miserable thought that you begin to notice the strange noises. There’s this odd rhythmic thumping, mixed together with these strange scuffling noises and higher register sounds; they shatter the silence that you hate but got used to all the same, interrupting it rudely and irritating you, almost as if the hush had been speaking, you listening avidly to it.

Your heart rate picks up, and you immediately reach for a knife, cocking your head and straining your ears as the noises come closer. Slowly, you realise you know those sounds - the footsteps and voices of people running, people chasing.

A cry leaves you. It comes out strangled and weak, your voice cracking and buckling from lack of use. Your fingers tighten around the handle of the kitchen knife. Suddenly, you feel utterly stupid - there are people out there, surviving, and maybe other people, chasing the survivors but no doubt also trying to stay alive, and here you are, holed up in the place that you used to go for work every day, alternating between sleeping and contemplating death.

Your new found clarity is like lightning in your blood. You leap to your feet as if struck by it, electrified, your breathing quickening as you cock your head, listening harder. Yes, those are voices - human voices, and yes, those are footsteps - human footsteps.

The choice is made the moment it enters your mind.

Still holding the knife, you use your shoulder to barge open the door to the lab, and then the next - the one that contains the little chamber for sterilising before and after entering. You don’t bother to sanitise your hands as you leave. All the organic matter left out by you and your colleagues is long dead.

You’re unsure what you’re going to do once you glimpse the makers of the noise, just that you need to see that there are still humans out there, that all that time you spent thinking you were the last, you weren’t. The insignificance you feel as you hear them approaching is nothing but a relief, a weight off your chest - confirmation that you are not the last hope.

Despite the selfish slant of that thought, your heart jumps. You’re unexpectedly aware that all of your past conclusions are idiotic: a strange, philosophical grave you dug yourself into. The sound of human voices seems to have jolted you out of the madness of it all, of the horsemen and the weight of responsibility that was like rocks in your pockets while you were trying to swim. An almost smile cracks your tired face as you push open the door.

You freeze. This is something you can’t quite get rid of, even in your new-found excitement - the fleeting moment of paralysis when you step foot outside and the sky is neither azure blue or grey and scudding with clouds but red.

It took you at least five trips to take what you needed from the nearby petrol station’s convenience store, yet each time you went from a simple white ceiling to a boundless, crimson sky, you couldn’t help the hesitation that stilled your bones. The sight of it, so bloody and swarming with alien ships, awakens the instincts of a hunted prey within you. Your heart pounds, ready to fight or flee, your legs bending a little as if you could curl into yourself like a frightened mouse hiding from a barn owl.

You know you can’t hide. Worse, you know that they’re watching from their safe little vantage point, embedded in the sky, as you venture out of your stronghold and prison and workplace, holding nothing but a kitchen knife.

You feel stupid all over again.

You’re determined to not let it stop you - instead you push yourself to a jog, mentally berating yourself for not exercising even a little during your stint of self pity in the lab, because your lungs tighten after about fifteen steps, invisible iron bands appearing around your chest and constricting it.

Keeping your eyes ahead of you, you pick your way around a body slumped twenty metres from the lab, face down on the pavement. If you were brave enough, you would close their eyes and arrange them into a respectable position, but you’re terrified that you’ll turn them over and it will be the face of someone you know.

The footsteps are approaching. You can hear individual voices now: muffled cursing, panicked words, and you duck backwards into the shadows cast by the block of flats, the one with the Korean BBQ shop on the ground floor, watching as four men sprint across the open space of the petrol station. More footsteps sound, and your brow furrows, wondering who could be chasing them for them to be running so hard.

They’re all carrying knives. You don’t really notice that, though - you’re busy taking in their dirt smeared, masked faces and the horror in their eyes as they realise they’re backed up against the convenience store, wondering if whatever they’re so worried about means you should just leave them to their fate and run.

A crash sounds. You jump, as do the four men, the two older looking ones pushing the younger ones behind them. The biggest one, dressed in all black and broad in the shoulders, reaches up, one hand brushing over the mask covering the lower half of his face like some sort of nervous tic, his fingers tightening on his knife. Behind him, the tallest pushes so he’s standing in line with the other two, despite the dirty look sent to him by his other companion. The last hurtles into the convenience store, most likely looking for a back exit you know he won’t find.

Hesitantly, you take a step forward, craning your neck to glimpse their attackers, and surprise momentarily nails your feet to the ground.

You expected a horde of monsters eating up the distance towards them, or zombies, or anything inhuman pertaining to the end of the world that would insight the type of panic that reigns in their eyes. It’s nothing of the sort - nothing creeping or crawling or oozing, not even a pack of feral dogs that you heard pass by one night.

They’re humans. Several, maybe a dozen, their faces twisted with anger. But when you look closer, you see the signs of disease: red eyes, sallow faces and emaciated limbs like those of the first horseman.

Worst of all, they don’t look crazy. They look gravely sick, and even more furious, but there is no drool slipping from the corners of their cracked lips, no feverish glint to their eyes, and yet the very marrow of you tells you that this is not normal, human rage. This is something else. This is Pestilence.

Pestilence that will no doubt find you once it wipes out these four men.

You’re closer to them than the sick ones are. The moment you lurch into a sprint from your hiding spot, you know there’s no going back - whether you like it or not, you become one of the survivors, and whether you survive for much longer or not, you’re going to try and help them.

As you cross towards them, your foot splashes through a puddle - a glance confirms that one of the pumps has begun to leak, trailing petrol that has oozed down towards the road and collected by the curb. An idea forms in your mind, and as you run, you yank at the hairband in your hair, tugging it out roughly despite the complaints of your scalp.

“Lighter,” you gasp, skidding to a halt in front of the men. “Give me a lighter. Now.”

The one wearing all black lets out an involuntary shocked noise, his knife arm unconsciously lifting before he lowers it, while the one on his right looks at you distrustfully, scowling. There’s no sign of the last one or a possible lighter he might have - no doubt he’s still looking for an exit through the store, becoming more and more panic stricken as he can’t find one - but the tall one reacts immediately, digging through his pocket and handing you the item he finds.

Your fingers tremble as you fix your hairband around the lighter, making sure it’s tight enough that the button stays down and the flame remains on. It twangs off when you pull it too tight, and you scrabble for it, scooping it off the concrete and trying again, cursing under your breath and praying that you’ll make it out alive long enough to see if the look the scowling one is giving you will actually kill you.

“They’re close,” the one in all black says with an Australian accent. “Really close.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter, fumbling with the hairband.

At last, it snaps into place. Spinning around, you turn and hurl it, launching it through the air. It hits the ground once, and for an awful moment you think you haven’t thrown it far enough, but then it catches the petrol and a roaring wall of flame surges up, so fast that the woman at the front of the mob runs straight into it.

She’s probably still going to die, if her sickness is anything like that which struck down the camera man those weeks ago, but nausea still tugs at your throat, and you look away, paling.

“Holy shit,” someone mumbles.

You turn. The man who they sent into the store to look for an exit has returned, lingering in the doorway as he stares up at the fire. From what it sounds, he’s Australian too, and he’s got lovely freckles, his hair a partially grown out blonde. You glance over at the others to find the scowler and the one in black, who carries himself like a leader, talking to each other quietly as they look at the roaring flames and the pacing figures behind them. It’s clear that the barrier separating you and the sick ones won’t last long.

You make another split second decision. It seems that you’ve become more decisive, since you never used to be this direct, but you guess that’s what the end of the world does: change people, shaping them to improve at survival, for the better or worse of others.

“You can come with me,” you offer. “I know somewhere we can lay low.”

The leader and the scowler exchange a glance. Freckles gives them both a hopeful look, while the tall one looks doggedly at the silhouettes behind the wall of flames as if he can will them away with his gaze, clearly already having made his judgement of you and leaving it up to the other three to decide. Eventually, the scowler gives the leader a curt nod.

The leader holds out his hand. “I’m Chan.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, giving him a brief smile.

“I’m Felix,” the freckled one says warmly, then points at the tall one. “That’s Seungmin.”

Seungmin jerks his chin at you. “Hey.”

Felix nudges the scowler. “And this is Minho.”

Minho eyes you like he might rip you apart with his bare hands, his gaze appraising as he looks you up and down, sizing you up as if he might need to take you down at any moment. You don’t miss the way his arms fill out his shirt, nor do you miss the daggers he stares at you.

You look away first, feeling a little intimidated as you gesture half heartedly down the road. “It’s this way.”

“Thank you,” Chan says, flashing you a dimple as you begin to walk. “You saved our lives.”

You frown. “Who were they, anyway?”

“It’s got something to do with the Pestilence from the first horseman,” he replies. “They go crazy when they’re near death.”

You laugh, although it sounds hollow. “I can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe I’m alive right now. I can’t believe you guys are alive right now, either.”

“We’re lucky, for sure,” Felix agrees. “We weren’t near the buildings they collapsed when the army sent the fighter jets, either. Were you close when it happened?”

“I didn’t know,” you confess, shame filling you. “I… I was hiding.”

The words are out before you can stop them. You expect accusatory looks, or even to be called a coward, but they just nod, Chan sighing, sympathy clear on Felix’s face. It lightens something in your heart, makes you realise that despite everything that must have happened to them, they’re still people - people who you’re bringing into your hiding spot.

“I work here,” you explain as you let them in. “Or used to, I guess.”

Chan glances around. “It’s a good place. There aren’t many buildings which are safe or haven’t been broken into.”

“You could stay,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

It’s stupid, really. They’d never agree. You’d be the one who would benefit the most, gaining people to watch your back, while to them you’d just be another mouth to feed and another body to protect. You do have a life debt on them, but when everyone’s lives are threatened, you suspect life debts don’t mean as much.

Minho’s gaze snaps to you from where it was wandering over the lab. “There are four more of us, you know.”

“And they’re noisy,” Seungmin adds.

Neither of those statements, you realise with a jolt, is a no. You fight to keep your facial expression under control. Your heart pounds - no doubt the cave woman bent on survival that woke up inside you the moment your instincts had to kick in is jumping for joy at the prospect of safety in numbers.

“I’d manage,” you reply, disbelieving. Surely they’re joking. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Chan is regarding you with a strange look on his face. You get the impression that he likes taking in strays - because that’s what you are, a stray, hoping to be let inside but far more likely to be shut out, relying on their kindness more than anything. You’re unable to think of any advantages to adding an eighth mouth to feed on top of his own, but you can see he’s weighing something up in his head.

Of course, they could just kill you and shove your body out the front door. For some reason, they haven’t, and now you’re stretching their kindness, possibly thinner than it can go. All the same, Chan is still looking at you, his strong features softened by his curls and the dimple that shows when a little smile tugs at his lips, almost as if he’s already fond of you.

“Why not?”

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro (let me know if you want to be added)

[marsoid]

answering these in one go

i got Sugar off a craigslist ad in 2016. she was listed for $9k but i got her for $8800, the seller knocked down the price literally just because he was nice and could tell i loved the car so much 🥹 my bank wouldn't let me pull out all the cash at once so i drove her home and paid him that Monday which is CRAZY but he trusted me to pay him and i did

when i first got her she didn't have power steering or power brakes (turned like a land yacht and stopped when she felt like it) so that was the first thing to address. fixed the horn and some other minor stuff that needed it. i also made the decision to replace the carburetor with EFI, which is kind of controversial in the classic car world lol but it's more fuel efficient

the EFI i had installed actually gave me the most problems over the years it was ALWAYS having issues and breaking down. but i recently had it reinstalled by someone who is NOT an idiot and I've had no problems for like 2 solid years I'm so fucking glad lol now she's more reliable than ever

she has a 350 small block V8 and auto transmission since she's my daily driver and allows for the smoothest ride possible as a commuter car. i don't race but she is fast lmao. I've never put pedal to metal but I've gotten her up to 80mph before without even flooring it so 😭 she can fucking Go lol. she kind of defaults to 30mph coasting so i have to have my foot on the brake to keep the speed limit in residentials

what else uhhh the cabin smells so good.... i love old car smell. I'm so lucky in her 53 years of being on the road she's apparently never had an owner that smoked inside the car i would have gone crazy if it smelled like cigarettes in there lmao

she has bench seats in the front and back which are like two little sofas. i used to nap back there on breaks when i was still working at a studio.

she has no airbags and you have to tighten the seatbelts yourself. there's an over the shoulder belt and separate waist belt. the passenger shoulder belt you gotta tug on after clicking it bc sometimes it comes loose on its own 😭 she is a death machine with no crumple zone so if i crash i will die 👍🏾 but I'm a very cautious driver and i don't even drive that much sooo IT'S FINE

she is very low tech besides the EFI and if there's ever an engine problem u can literally just look under the hood and mess with stuff until it's fixed. it's very spacious in there with a lot of room to poke around. cars in the 70s were made to last and because they are still so beloved to this day there's endless info online from enthusiasts about fixing stuff that pops up. some companies are still making new parts for classics so we don't have to dig through junkyards when we need replacements... unless u want to ofc, the hunt can be fun too LOL

i get people waving me down daily to ask me what year she is and tell me they used to have a Nova when they were younger or knew someone that did and how much they loved them and IDK IT'S SWEET!! ppl are always so happy to see her......... the antithesis of the cybertruck

thanks for reading here's some thirst traps

[melodygatesauthor]

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Four - The Student

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

This time I found you at a university. Of course things couldn’t just be simple. You couldn’t just be a faculty member or even a damn janitor, no…you had to be my fucking student. Why couldn’t things be easy just for once? It’s fine…I’ll just have to figure out how to work around it…

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5k

It was a morning like every other.

You were on your way to your physics class, coffee in hand and your two friends on either side of you, Mira and Stacy. Mira had a skip in her step, excited about a guy she met at the coffee shop just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, too concerned with the results of last week’s test in Dr. O’Hara’s class to be bothered with your friend’s endeavors.

“Hey!” Stacy screamed your name, grabbing your collar and pulling you back from the street and onto the curb.

A car flew by you, stopping your heart in your chest as you moved back from the street two more steps. You were so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t paid any attention to the road. Stacy spat your name in a scolding manner.

“Jesus, you almost got yourself killed, what the hell are you thinking?” She shook her head.

“Thank you,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I guess I’m just…I’m so nervous about my test I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, putting both hands on her hips like a parent scolding a child. “I’m sure you did fine on your test. You said you studied right?”

The three of you started walking again toward the building where your classes were held.

“Yeah, I did, but I mean…the last test I took I failed, I can’t fail again.” You felt dread weighing heavy on your chest as the large brick building blocked out the sun on your approach.

Mira patted your back. “You’re smart, I’m sure you did fine.” She chuckled as she jogged ahead toward the building. “Besides! I’m sure that Dr. O’Hara would let you suck his dick for a better grade!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at Mira’s comment. She never ceased to say things that were embarrassing beyond belief. Everyone knew that Dr. O’Hara was hot. The man wore dress shirts, sure, but either he couldn’t find ones that fit properly, or he intentionally wore a size too small so people would know he worked out. It was hard to think about much else when his pectorals were so prominently displayed under a thin veil of fabric. It didn’t help either that his nipples seemed to be perpetually stiff, clearly visibly underneath his shirt, just like they were today.

“Good morning cl–”

Dr. O’Hara’s failure to finish his sentence caught you off guard, forcing your eyes on him as you walked the rest of the way into the room. You felt nervous, averting your eyes immediately and staring at the floor as you walked to your desk. After your friend’s inappropriate comment, and his lingering gaze, you couldn’t help thinking about things a student shouldn’t imagine about their professor.

Things like…what if you could suck his dick for a better grade?

He cleared his throat. “Alright class, I’m going to pass back your tests now.”

You’d done a fine job on your exam. Miguel’s predecessor, the Miguel of this universe, had already graded your paper and even put a little smiley face next to the number 87 in red ink. It was obvious that this one hadn’t made any moves on you, but he had taken a liking to you. That wouldn’t work in Miguel’s favor though. He needed you to be so desperate that you might be willing to go to great lengths to get your grade fixed.

The jealousy that stabbed Miguel in the gut when he realized that his alternate was enraptured by you made it easy to rid himself of the man. In fact, he felt nothing as he watched the life leave Miguel’s eyes. He felt nothing as he buried the man so far into the ground that no one would ever find his body.

It wasn’t that Miguel wanted to be predatory toward you, in fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was clear that you were younger in this universe than in previous ones. Your birth date was the same, he saw it in your records on the school database before he took over for your prior professor, but the year was different. He’d already gone through great lengths just to find you, so what was a little manipulation just to have you? You’d be grateful in the end, he just knew it.

He passed the tests around, watching you carefully to gauge your response to his little note he made at the top of your test. 

Come to my office after your classes so we can discuss your grade and your future in my class.

You looked down at the glaring 62 on your exam with the note to meet Dr. O’Hara in his office later. A pit formed in your gut. The words, ‘your future in my class’, stuck out more than the rest. You gulped, hands shaking as you put the failed test in your book bag and turned your attention back to class. You hated that professors seemed to do that, handing out your tests prior to the start of class. How in the hell were you expected to focus for the rest of the class with the looming threat that you might be told to retake the class next semester?

He felt a little bad after seeing your face drop at the sight of the failed exam. In some ways Miguel missed the therapist. She was bold, more mature, and he felt like she was, personality-wise, the closest to you he had found thus far. In this universe you were naive, young, bright-eyed and inexperienced. In some ways that was exciting, thinking about how easy it would be to mold you into the woman he’d lost, or at least as close to the original as possible. In other ways he didn’t love the idea of corrupting you like that.

It didn’t matter though, in the end as long as he had you, whether by moral means or immoral, that’s all that mattered.

Later that evening, shortly after finishing your final class for the day, you found yourself standing outside of Dr. O’Hara’s office, knuckles rapping on the door in an uneven rhythm. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was deafening while you waited for him to open the door. Earlier you and your friends had joked about what you were going to do in there, but this wasn’t a movie, this was reality, and your professor wasn’t going to let you sleep your way out of a bad grade.

Not that you really wanted to do that anyway.

Your unusually tall professor opened the door, stepping back to let you inside. He was quiet when he locked the door, so quiet that you wouldn’t even notice he’d done it. You seemed a little smaller in this universe. Miguel wondered if it was because you were actually shorter, or if the fact that you were younger made it seem to be the case.

“I don’t understand why I got such a bad grade, Dr. O’Hara,” you turned to face him, failed test in hand, eyes already glistening wet with the threat of tears. “I worked really hard after you helped me understand it better.”

Fuck, he thought. His cock was already springing to life, slowly making his pants feel tighter while he looked at you. This was new territory that he didn’t know how to navigate. This wasn’t the type of person Miguel wanted to be, but he also wanted to start establishing his control over you now. If he could control you, he could keep you safe; he could have you.

“Yeah well, as you can see…” he snatched the test from your hand, “you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”

Something was different about Dr. O’Hara, you felt it as he ripped the paper from your hands. He was normally a very calm and collected type of professor, everyone loved him for that. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so harshly now. You clutched your book bag closer to yourself as though it would teleport you out of the room. He took a step closer, and you stepped back until your rear was against his desk. You felt trapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he said, seeing the terror in your expression. Miguel’s intention wasn’t to make you fear him, but at the same time, he was willing to do what it took to make you listen for once, since your alternates didn’t seem to pay his warnings any mind. “Look, I’d be willing to…fix your grade.”

He’d hoped that when he said it like that you would get the hint so he didn’t have to spell it out for you. Surely you’d seen enough pornos to know where this was going, right? It would make it less guilt inducing for him, and a lot less scary for you, at least that’s what he was thinking. 

“Fix it how? Is there extra credit?” You decided to continue on like you didn’t know what he was playing at.

“You could say that,” he said, taking another step toward you.

There was no way he meant what you thought he meant. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating that you were supposed to fuck your way into a better grade could he? That was just a stupid joke you and your friends had laughed about, albeit frequently, but it was just a joke. He couldn’t be serious.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his tight-fit slacks and the way they were especially tight around his groin. You gulped, looking back up at his eyes quickly, trying to appear not to have seen anything. Maybe if you kept your eyes anywhere but on his bulge it would go away, and he would let this go.

But you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Miguel took another step forward, bringing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your skin gently. He smirked, feeling satisfied to touch you again. Spending all the time in the last universe, he’d almost forgotten what you felt like.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and if you just listen to me you might even enjoy yourself.”

No matter how much you told yourself to run, to kick, to scream, you just stood there while Dr. O’Hara leaned forward, claiming your mouth in his and melting into you. He lifted you onto the desk like you were weightless, pushing himself against you until he was almost laying on top of you. You kissed him back, but the rest of you was frozen, unsure how to respond. Should you even be allowing this to happen, or should you be trying to stop him?

What would you do anyway? Fight him off? The man was built like a damn tank. You could work out for a hundred years and still never come close to moving him. On the bright side, you would probably pass your class, though this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

“P-please, Dr. O’Hara, s-stop–”

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing you deeper, “you want me to fix your grade right? You want to pass this class? Hm?”

He looked down at you, waiting for your answer, the guilt still nagging at him as he noticed a stray tear fall down the side of your face.

You nodded. “Y-yes, yes I do.”

“Then be quiet, and do what I say,” he demanded, sliding a massive hand up your skirt, his fingers teasing at the hem of your panties.

Your mind was racing with feelings you could hardly comprehend. On one hand, your body was tingling an overwhelming desire, a need to feel his touch in the most intimate way. His thick index finger tucked into the leg of your panties, knuckles sliding softly over your pussy lips. When he kissed you it didn’t feel like a dirty professor trying to take advantage, but rather a lover who wanted to take his time with you.

On the other hand, he was much older than you, and he was your professor. Not to mention the fact that you weren’t really interested in sleeping with him, despite the teasing from you and your friends.

That didn’t seem to matter now, he was pulling your underwear down your thighs and tossing them to the floor. He rubbed the pads of his index and middle fingers over your clit, forcing a choked whimper to escape your lungs. You thought about protesting his actions again, but decided against it. You didn’t want to piss him off, and you didn’t want to fail the class.

“There you go, honey,” he whispered against your lips, “don’t squirm too much okay? You’ll like it, I know you will.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to say otherwise. Dr. O’Hara pushed you down so your back was flat against the desk, his large hand pressed against your abdomen while his other started to undo his pants. You didn’t even want to look at it, so you stared out the window and kept your eyes trained on the gate at the entrance to the college campus. He exhaled a low and deep breath as he dragged the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Look at me, hermosa,” his voice was low, but still demanding.

You complied, turning your head slowly to look at him. Miguel tried to convince himself that you would come around, that you were just nervous for your first time together. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t delusional either, but he needed to believe that you would come around, because working with the you that was right in front of him was better than the unknown of whatever versions he may encounter in other universes. ‘The devil you know’, and all that.

“Hold on tight, honey,” he warned, sliding his dick through your slick entrance. He couldn’t even make it halfway in before it was too tight. “F-fuck baby…shit.”

You cried out, all of your resolve falling to the wayside. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.

“Dr. O’Hara pleas–”

Before you could even finish your plea his hand was covering your mouth. He shook his head, eyes narrowing dangerously in warning. You tried to beg with your eyes, your small sobs blocked by the brick wall of his palm only serving to make his cock throb inside your cunt. You grabbed onto his forearm, gripping it so tight your nails dug into his skin, but it may as well have been a pillar, unmoving and sturdy while he kept your mouth covered.

“Honey, please,” he hissed, his breaths of arousal interrupting his irritated tone. “I know it’s painful now but if you just relax, I’ll stretch you out so it won’t hurt anymore alright?”

You didn’t respond, and Miguel felt the guilt in his chest. The guilt didn’t outweigh the delicious feeling of your hole squeezing around the mere three inches he’d managed to get inside. He slid forward a little more, your eyes rolled back in response, your breaths turned into labored panting while you took him further.

“You’re doing great, hermosa,” he encouraged, “taking me so well.”

Your legs tightened around his waist as your cunt stretched even wider around him. He was bigger than anything you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t get free from him. Finally he bottomed out inside you, when you looked down at where you were connected you could see a bulge in your abdomen. Your eyes widened in fear, as though seeing it made it feel that much bigger.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he cooed, rolling his hips back and then snapping forward again, forcing a guttural groan to erupt from deep within you. “That’s it, fuck, so tight-that’s-it.”

Miguel established a steady rhythm that was made easier by how wet your little hole got. At least you’re physically enjoying yourself, he thought to himself, still trying to ease the guilt brewing inside him. His free hand grabbed onto your thigh, leveraging himself even deeper. The sight of his fat cock bulging up through your stomach made him harder, if that were even possible. He thought, for only a second, about the fact that you might not be on birth control, but then decided he didn’t really give a shit.

Your makeup was ruined, black rivers running down your cheeks while you cried even harder. When Miguel looked down at where your pussy was split around his dick he could see why, you’d made a bloody mess between both your bodies. He questioned why he thought that was hot. Causing you pain shouldn’t feel that good, but it did, the sight of your blood making his pace even faster.

“Didn’t know you had such a little pussy,” he breathed between thrusts, “so tight, so-wet-fuck.”

When Miguel thought about it, the two of you - himself and you from the original universe -, never got that rough. It wasn’t something he knew he would like, having power over you like that, causing you pain and listening to your cries. Hearing you whimper now though, laying on his desk with your legs wrapped around him while he split you open, was making him feral. If making you cry was bad, then why the hell did it feel so fucking good?

“Are you going to come for me, honey?” He asked in a low whisper.

You didn’t answer, you just kept your eyes on his, a silent prayer that he would stop. He couldn’t stop now though, he was so damn close.

“Next time m-maybe, holy-shit-fuck-fuck-FUCK!”

His hips snapped forward, stuttering and halting against yours. You felt the searing hot ropes of his spend while it spilled inside your walls, cock throbbing and stretching you further with every spurt. His breathing was deep, low, and you guessed that if he weren’t afraid of being caught he would be much more vocal. He tossed his head back, using the hand that was on your hip to push his hair from where it fell into his eyes.

Once he was finished, Miguel released your mouth, the post-orgasm clarity making his guilt take over tenfold.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling out of you, the sudden feeling forcing a quiet cry from your swollen, trembling lips.

You didn’t speak. Now that he was finished you didn’t have words to say. What could you say? ‘You’re a monster’? ‘How could you do this to me’? ‘Why would you do this to me’? None of his answers would matter, and part of you still wondered if you’d asked for it some way. What else did you think your professor wanted you to come into his office for after all the classes had ended for the day? The red flags had been waving in your face and you ignored them. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you wanted this all along.

—

“Good morning handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from Miguel’s stubbled cheek, “you were out. Having a good dream?”

—

Miguel shot up in bed, quickly realizing that he was dreaming, the reminder of that day still so fucking clear in his mind.

He looked at the calendar sitting above the coffee maker in his apartment. Well, his apartment. It had already been four long weeks that he’d spent in that universe trying desperately to get you to like him. He could tell by the look on your face though that you were still terrified of him. 

He wondered if he should just leave, call it quits for this universe and move on to the next one. Miguel couldn’t shake the probability that something might be worse in the next universe though. What if he traveled there only to find that you were already dead? What if the next ten universes took him years to get through and eventually he was too old to keep looking for you? No matter how he looked at it, logically speaking, it was still better to try and work with the you in front of him, than to risk the unknown.

You couldn’t put into words the way you felt when you saw Dr. O’Hara every week in your physics class. You started sitting toward the back, hoping some other girl might grab his attention instead, but it never worked. He continued to summon you to his office in the late evenings, and he continued to fuck you until you could barely walk your way out of his office.

He terrified you.

And that terrified him.

“Dr. O’Hara,” the head of student affairs walked into Miguel’s office, pushing the already ajar door open and stepping inside.

“Oh, hi, Janice,” Miguel said, feeling his body become tense.

You better not have opened your fucking mouth, he thought.

“One of your students…” your name coming out of her mouth made him start to sweat, “...came to me and said she would like to drop out and take this class another semester. She said it doesn’t fit into her schedule right now so we need you to sign–”

“Halfway through the semester?” He asked, tone sharper than he intended. “No. She’s doing so well it would be a mistake.”

“It’s not really up to–”

“What’s the cutoff date for this kind of thing? Isn’t there always a cutoff date?”

“This Thursday is the–”

“No.”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“Let me talk to her.”

The woman sighed, handing him the paper, “I think it’s a mistake too, for the record. It would be a shame to have to do all that work all over again.”

The woman left, the sound of her clicking heels fading as she walked down the hall. Miguel looked at the sheet of paper, hands shaking as he looked down at your signature. There it was. The same signature on your fucking marriage certificate, right there, telling him that you’d had enough and wanted to leave him. 

He slammed his office door and walked over to his bag, the one where he kept your wedding photo. He hadn’t looked at it much since he’d left the original universe. The image of the two of you together brought him nothing but pain. He wanted you back so badly he was willing to rape a poor college girl that looked just like you in order to live in a fantasy that, deep down, he knew would never really hold a candle to the reality he once had.

Looking back he remembered the day of your wedding, the way you looked took his breath away. He was still mad that the therapist hadn’t worked out, if only she’d listened. Even the barista wasn’t too bad. She was a bit mouthy, but…no, he couldn’t stand the damn barista. She was a lost cause the moment she broke up with him.

Something told him that this version of you, the student, wasn’t going to work out from the beginning. He wanted it so badly though. When he tried to imagine a world where he could be happy with that version of you, he couldn’t. Even in the event he was able to convince you to marry him, or hell, even go on a date with him, he knew it would be all done in fear. You’d never look at him the way you did. 

You would never love him.

You startled him when you opened the door to his office unannounced. You could tell because he scrambled to put something into his bag as you entered. His gaze was still so harsh, and you thought maybe you shouldn’t have come at all, but you were afraid your consequences would be harsher if you ignored his long standing request to meet him in the office during the evenings. You closed the door behind yourself, knowing that he would probably do it anyway if you didn’t do it yourself. 

This is the last time, you thought. You do this one more time and then you’re done.

You hoped that by giving him what he so clearly wanted from you one last time, and perhaps being mature about it, you could convince him to let you go.

“D-Dr. O’Hara I–”

“You’re trying to drop out of my fucking class?” He snapped, eyes shooting spears through you.

You gulped, stepping toward the door, immediately regretting closing it behind yourself.

“W-well yes but I came to, um…well I thought we could–”

“Thought we could what?” He asked, standing quickly.

Regardless if you’d never love him, he was going to have to work with what he had, and right now he had a crying twenty something in front of him who was willing to do anything he said.

“We can do it just one more time and then I want to leave your class,” you whispered.

Dr. O’Hara strode over to you slowly, each step a booming quake that tore through what little determination you’d had when walking in there. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. You hated that your body had become conditioned to react pleasantly to his touch, a tingling sensation spreading down to your core.

“What did you say?” He hissed against your ear.

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to repeat yourself. You wanted to convince him that this was what was best for both of you since getting caught would surely end his career. No matter how much you willed yourself to speak though, not a fucking word came out. The only sound you made was a pathetic whimper, a dumb little sound that you knew he liked; he always moaned whenever you made it. 

“That’s what I thought, hermosa,” he whispered, “you can come back to my office tonight, and I’ll take good care of you like I always do, hm?”

He let go of you and stepped back, eyes scanning over your body and taking it all in as he had so many times before.

“Well, I-I can’t come tonight,” you admitted hastily, as though you might choke on the words if you didn’t spit them out.

“Why?” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Well my friends and I were going out tonight and–”

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re coming back here.”

Perhaps he’d said it too harshly, but knowing that there was a good possibility that this was the night of your death, your ‘canon event’ as he’d taken to calling it, he couldn’t risk you leaving his sight.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the dark glare in his eye told you that arguing was futile. It was clear that whatever this had started as, an exploitative endeavor, had turned into some sort of obsession that you weren’t going to be able to get out of easily.

“Please,” you mouthed, keeping your eyes on the floor.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so much guilt. Could he really keep this up? Would he really be able to spend the rest of both your lives looking into your fearful eyes and convince himself that it was alright? As long as he had you it didn’t matter if you were a little afraid…right?

“I know this is hard for you to understand, so I’ll make it simple for you,” he moved to grab you, but you slipped under his arm and started backing away.

“Stop doing this, please,” you were trying to get away from him now, another sign that this was probably a dead-end universe for him.

Miguel couldn’t imagine much worse than you being dead, but you feeling so afraid of him that you died trying to get away from him was right up there. He wondered if closing his oversized office window would’ve still resulted in your demise that night.

“Honey, I’m sorry, if you can just come here and have a seat we can talk–”

“No!” You yelled, continuing to back up, the open window at your back.

Miguel took a step forward.

“I’m not going to hurt you, let’s just–”

“You already did!” Your lips were trembling, your whole body was tense, “Stay away from me!”

“Mi vida, please!”

He watched you hit the low-sitting window sill. The school would get sued, no doubt, for not putting a screen, or at least some form of safety precaution, in place to prevent your fall from three stories up. He looked over the window sill, watching the blood spread from your body outward, covering the pavement below.

Miguel genuinely felt bad. He didn’t know if it was because he felt like he was losing you again. No, this wasn’t really like losing you. This felt more like guilt around causing the death of some college student who happened to look almost exactly like you, but she wasn’t really you.

In all honesty, appearance was the only thing this girl had in common with you. So Miguel wouldn’t shed a tear for her, though he would hold on to the turmoil he’d caused you in that universe for a while. He’d wear it with him to the next one, like a pin he’d collected as a souvenir. That thought actually made him laugh. It was the laugh of a man gone mad, but a laugh nonetheless.

Maybe by the end of his journey he’d have a whole stash of pins. Perhaps he’d be so weighed down by them that he wouldn’t be able to move anymore. It was entirely possible that a suitable replacement didn’t exist, and that maybe he’d never find the perfect one.

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Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Dibs

Summary- Eddie meets someone quite interesting on restock day at their favorite music shop

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None :)

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23 @wheels-of-despair @goatsmcgee @flawiette

(my tag list is always open, please let me know if you’d like to be added 🫶)

Word Count- 1.7k

“Restock day.”

Eddie’s eyes shot open as his hand gripped the phone, nearly pulling the cord straight out of the receiver as he shot out of bed.

All he needed to hear was those two words and he was given the adrenaline needed to get himself out of bed and get ready all within the span of five short minutes.

He had finally finished pulling his shirt over his head before reaching back for the forgotten phone laying on his mattress,

“Ready in five!” He shouted to Grant on the other end, not knowing wether he had hung up or not.

His hair was still a mess, and he was certain the jeans he grabbed from the pile of clothes on his floor definitely still had dirt stains all over them, but he didn’t care. It was restock day at the local record store. That’s all he cared about.

Once a month he and the rest of the guys would wake up early and head over to be the first ones in line before the store opened. They’d be up and ready to go with their lists in hand of what to look out for, knowing that if they didn’t leave with at least one then there’d be hell to pay.

Eddie sat on his stoop, ready to go for whenever he spotted Grants car pull through the park entrance. He wasn’t out there for more than a few moments before hearing the gravel crunching under the wheels of a car that was definitely going too fast for those types of roads. They’d get a few dirty looks from a couple of older residents as they left the park, but it was a price they were willing to pay for being able to still get there on time.

Eddie ran up as soon as he could see the rusted bumper on the front, hopping into the back seat next to Jeff.

“Still on time?” Eddie asked as he fixed himself in his seat.

“Still on time.” Grant said back as he looked to Eddie in the rear view mirror.

“I think if we gun it on the back roads we’ll get there earlier than planned.” Gareth said as he turned from the passenger seat.

“We already go at least 70 on these,” Jeff argued, “let’s not try and kill ourselves like last time.”

“Last time wasn’t my fault!” Eddie laughed, “I was being a good samaritan and letting those ducks pass the road.”

“You slammed on the breaks so hard i almost flew through the window.” Jeff said, earning a laugh from the boys up front.

“I think i still have a rug burn scar from the seatbelt.” Grant laughed.

After a quick drive and debrief of the records they were looking for, Grant quickly pulled into the parking lot. Each let out a sigh of relief as they saw that there were only three other cars in the lot, a few people gathered outside the door. They got into their spot and jogged to join in the small group waiting to get inside, thankful that they got there before the swarm of cars and a few kids on bicycles entered the lot. Within five minutes the parking lot was filled and there was a line that reached almost out to the street.

They paid no attention to the crowd behind them, doing their best to patiently wait for those final agonizing minutes before 10 am. When the doors were finally unlocked it was like some of the people behind them had never been in public before.

They were shoving past to get to the newest pop releases, and the boys paid them no mind as they headed over to the much less crowded rock section to scan through the full bins of the owners newest finds.

The boys scattered, each of them looking through the various bins and crates, moving onto the next as soon as they finished flipping through them. Eddie was in the zone as he flipped through a few older records he’d seen time and time again, not even noticing someone flipping through the same bin on the opposite side. His fingers moved quickly and stopped as soon as he saw it.

Alice Coopers new album was finally out, and he knew it had to be his the moment he heard ‘Prince of Darkness’ playing in that John Carpenter movie. He grasped the top of it and turned to show the guys, but he was pulled back as he felt it being tugged in the opposite direction. Eddie turned back to see who was trying to get this record from out of his hands, and he stopped for a moment when his eyes met yours.

He didn’t know what came over him.

A girl, a really pretty girl, was stood at the other side of the crate of records, holding the top of the record on the opposite side. And you weren’t letting go.

The boys glanced over, Eddie already having grabbed their attention before only made them stare. He was just standing there. Standing and staring.

Your eyes were locked onto his. This same scenario has happened to you countless amounts of times. You’d spot a record or a tape in a shop the same time as someone else and waited to see who would give in first. And it was never you.

But this one seemed different to you.

He wasn’t like the other guys that had gotten into this situation with you. He wasn’t moving his eyes over your body or trying to get a peek at the logo on your shirt to see if you were even a fan of this kind of music. He was just looking at you, with those deep brown eyes that you couldn’t help but look into.

All you could do was look at one another, waiting for the other to take their hand off the record to finally get it into their hands. And there’s no way in hell you were going to give in.

The rest of the guys watched the interaction from their spots at the crates, their eyes widening as they watched Eddie slowly take his hand away from the record.

He smiled to you as he let his hand drop.

“All yours.” He nodded.

You looked down at the record in your hands and looked back up to him,

“What’s your name?” You asked him.

His eyes widened for a moment, taking a quick glance around to see if he was the one you were asking, earning a giggle from you.

“Eddie.” He said, pursing his lips, knowing that the guys were no doubt going to rag on him for not only letting go of this record, but letting go of it just because the girl on the other end was pretty.

He knew they’d do the same, he was just the first to do it.

“Thanks Eddie.” You smiled and looked him over before walking over around the crate up to the line forming at the counter.

Eddie watched as you walked away, smiling to himself as he went back to sorting through the records before him. The guys finished looking through their crates and slowly made their way over to Eddie, their records in hand, ready to head up to the register while Eddie still had nothing.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asked as he stood next to Eddie.

“What? I’m sorry, should i have just ripped that out of that hot girls’ hand and said ‘dibs’?”

“No, i’m just saying you gave that up so easily,” Gareth glanced back over at you in line, “all for a girl?”

“A HOT girl. And who am i to deny a hot girl the right to listen to good music?” Eddie laughed to himself.

“Well good luck trying to find that record again,” Jeff said as he handed Eddie the Anthrax album he asked them to keep an eye out for, “a bunch of these have multiples but i don’t think i saw any more of that Alice Cooper record.”

“I’ll find it again. And if i don’t, it wasn’t meant to be.” Eddie shrugged as he got to the last record, pulling it out as soon as he recognized the Tesla logo on the front. He held it in his hands and took the Anthrax record from Jeff as they went to meet Grant in line.

Eddie glanced around and saw you at the front of the line, scribbling down something on a little piece of paper in front of you.

“How’d the search go?” Grant asked the guys as they huddled around him in line.

“Fine, except for the fact that Eddie gave up one of the only albums he was looking for to some girl.” Gareth groaned.

“What’s so wrong about that?” Eddie pleaded.

“She still here?” Grant asked Eddie, with Eddie quickly pointing you out as you finished up at the register, “Damn… Good call on that.”

“Thank you! Finally someone gets why i did it.” Eddie exclaimed, not noticing you approaching him until he felt one of the guys nudge his arm.

You smiled as you stood before Eddie, holding out a little piece of paper to him,

“Here.” You smiled as he opened it, watching his eyes widen a bit, “Just in case you ever wanted to borrow it.”

Eddie and the guys stayed quiet as they all looked at the slip of paper in his hands.

It was the written out receipt for the record you just bought, your name and phone number scribbled onto the front. Eddie quickly looked up to say his goodbyes, but by the time he was pulled from his trance you were nowhere to be seen.

They hadn’t even noticed the line moving in front of them until they heard a shout from someone behind them. They shuffled forward, Eddie neatly folding up the receipt in his hand and placing it onto his pocket with a smug grin on his face as he looked back to Gareth and Jeff,

“Which one of you was complaining about me giving up that record?”

The two of them were silent, Eddie laughing to himself as he turned to move with the line.

He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, quickly putting it into his pocket to keep it safe as they stepped forward with the line.

There was nothing he loved more than restock day.