#I F E L L OUT OF MY CHAIR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saradika · 1 year

Text

— only if for a night

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

Rated E - 6.5k

Tags: spoilers for 03.01, neighbor!din, established past encounter, flirting / mutual yearning, hot springs makeout, soft dom!din, outercourse, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, PiV

A/N: based on that little line from s03.01 about the hot springs. Many liberties taken with the creed.

When it appears the droid repair will take longer than expected, Din finds himself taking Karga up on the offer for the parcel of land.

And when you go to give your new neighbor a warm welcome - you never imagine that it would be the very man you haven’t been to stop thinking about.

He’d never been all that great at saying no.

It was easy when he was on the job - dealing with strangers. Questions rarely came when the saw him as just a symbol. Something to be feared.

A Mandalorian.

When it was a friend… well, that was a different story. Somehow, Karga had gotten under his skin. Twisting words around until he found himself agreeing to that parcel of land, out by the flats.

His stay was only temporary. That, he made sure of to mention. More than once, each time more firmly.

“Ah, but you always come back.” Karga had smiled, while they overlooked the city, “I know you have your business to attend to.”

Glancing down at Grogu, still spinning in the chair, “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a home to return to? To know you have a place, here?”

“I’ll think about it.” He had hedged, hands braced on his hips.

Somewhere along their walk later - their path had changed. Through the center of town, past the now deconstructed monument.

Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the tidy hut - Grogu wandering through the back door and into the sizable yard, as he found himself signing the deed.

“We’ll worry about the details later.” Karga had winked - and then he was gone.

Leaving Din alone, in his new space. Half-exasperated as he checks through the rooms.

A living space that flows into a small kitchen. Smoothed stone walls, a hallway that leads to a bathroom, with a full-sized sonic. The sharp right curve as the building continues back - a master bedroom taking up the last third of the L-shaped unit.

It might be nice to have a private place to sleep for a few days, while he waited for IG-11 to be repaired. His legs and back aching from sleeping in the starfighter.

And he’s never loved inns. Never trusted them completely - not even on Nevarro.

A small head peeks around the doorway, as he stands in the middle of the bedroom. The cotton curtains fluttering with the breeze, a view of the hot springs and the thick line of trees visible from the open window.

“What do you think, kid?” He finds himself asking.

Grogu coos happily, and his lips curve underneath his helmet.

“Yeah.” He hums. “I think so, too.”

———

“Finally sold that place, next to yours.”

You frown, glancing up from your datapad. Feet kicked up on the desk in your office, catching up on comms.

The news is unexpected, you hadn’t known anyone was looking at the property. Karga hadn’t pressed for you to put out any advertisements in the past couple weeks. Acted like he’s been saving it - but for what, you didn’t know.

“Would say I’m glad, but I was getting used to the private hot springs access.” You smile, removing your feet, pushing yourself up to greet him, “You need me to get the paperwork together?”

“No need, I handled it.”

That makes your eyebrow raise. Karga had certainly done a lot for Nevarro. The green trees outside - the expansion of the city - was more than enough proof.

But you had never seen him handle any of the minute details. Never had been his style.

No, that was your job.

“I’d like you to stop by though.” He says, fingers stroking the white bristles of his beard, “Make sure he’s doing alright. Explain about the expansions, I didn’t get a chance to cover that part.”

“Sure thing.” You nod, already collecting your things, “You know I would anyways, since he’s my neighbor and all.”

But Karga’s focus on this new buyer nudges at your attention - a beat passing, before you add, “Is it someone high profile? Should I know them?”

His answering look is knowing. And cryptic, as only he can be, “Something like that.”

Leaving your office with an amused smile - and you more curious than ever.

———

Your fist raps twice on the closed blast door. A hand smoothing down the front of your tunic, wrinkled with your brisk walk over from the office. The basket tucked under your arm, filled to the brim with goodies hand-picked from "the stash".

A crate stored in one of Karga's many rooms, filled with gifts from shops in town, potential business partners, visiting travellers.

Anything expensive he accepted for himself - the rest you collect, with the dual purpose of handling it for him, and finding a use for the item.

Creating welcome kits for all those who are new to the city, things to make their houses feel more like homes. Blankets to fend off the evening chill. Vouchers for a warm meal at the local cantina. Dried meats and fruits - trinkets for the children if there are any.

Fingers crossed that your new neighbor is someone nice. Not like that Weequay you had roomed next to when you had lived downtown - keeping you up late with their band practice. Chords loudly strum on their hallisket, somehow always off-key. Overly rude, whenever you had gently tried to bring it up.

Back then, you woke with the dawn, due down at the new school just after daybreak. Rough did not even begin to cover it.

Moving out here, the change in your duties, had been nice. Certainly a walk every morning, but the privacy was well appreciated.

Quiet nights after spending the day keeping up with the whirlwind that was Greef Karga. Soaking away the stress in the small clusters of hot springs that make their way along the flats.

No one answers, so you inch around the side of the building to check the back. One of the many bonuses about being this far out - the large yards and extra space. Past the narrow landing pad - the shining chrome ship that rests on it.

Your nose wrinkles at the sleek lines, the overall ostentation.

Stars, if it's another 'Karga'...

Pushing the thought aside as you call out, ahead, "Hello! Anyone home?"

"Back here." A voice replies, sounding muffled.

You’re rounding the corner of the hut, when you freeze. Only the vice-like grip on the handle keeping the basket from tumbling across the stone patio.

Because you do know him.

Intimately.

Though it’s been a while. Over a year, maybe two?

But there was no mistaking the shine of his silver armor. The little friend that’s still by his side.

“Oh.” You greet him, intelligently.

His helmet turns at your voice, his own form going still for a long moment. The child lets out a coo, his small head turning as he leans over the edge of the water, splashing the surface.

“Hi. Karga sent me over. I mean, I would have come anyways.” You clear your throat as you find your voice - hiking a thumb over your shoulder, “Seeing as we’re neighbors, and all.”

“Neighbors.” He repeats, his voice a low monotone.

It’s so strange to hear it again.

You’d spent ages thinking about it. About that night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than blowing off steam.

Back then, you had still worked at the school. Filling in as the teaching droid became accustomed to the class - still developing the emotional intelligence part of its AI.

You had been an aide, making sure things ran smoothly. And it had, until those few days that the Child had been in attendance.

It still makes you smile to remember the bits of blue cookie smeared on his face.

That’s when you had met the Mandalorian, picking up his child. And then running into him again, later at the cantina.

Ending up in his ship, even later after that. Staying longer than you meant to, until the indigo sky was streaked with pink and grey.

You still think about the cold bite of his armor against your bare skin. The low rasp of his voice, lips forming around rough words of praise that had burrowed into your brain.

Just one night, but it had stayed in your memory for the hundreds that came after.

“Uh, yes.” You snap back to reality, as you jiggle the basket. Walking over, because it was too late to flee - setting it down on the low stone table.

Your face heats - you're not sure how to word this. Unsure if it was more awkward to get out with it, or pretend like this was the first time you’ve met.

After a moment, you make your decision. Better to just be honest.

Your hand extends, as you give him your name. A small cringe of a smile, as you hedge, "I don't know if you remember-"

His answer cuts you off, as his hand takes yours, "I do."

Oh.

The vocoder makes it impossible to tell the exact tone of his response. If it was a good memory, or if he was disappointed in this strange reunion.

You’re saved from the awkwardness of not knowing, when the child toddles over. A wide grin spreads over your face, plucking a treat out of the basket.

“Just look at you!” Sinking to your knees - you glance up, before handing the piece of candy over, “Is this okay?”

The Mandalorian’s head dips in a nod, a heat in your cheeks as you turn back. Placing it into the little outstretched hands, as you marvel.

“You’ve really grown!”

His ears wiggle, the peek of his teeth as he smiles.

Not bigger, but certainly more confident. A sweetness shining, more certain of the steps he takes. A tightness in your chest, as he shows it to Mando - clutched tight in his fist.

“That’s right.” He replies patiently, “Tell her ‘thank you’, Grogu.”

Grogu makes a sound that could pass as a thanks, making his way to the rock border of the small garden.

Leaving you looking up at the Mandalorian. The angle doing something to you - all that shining armor. You on your knees.

His head, still tilting down. Cocked, your way.

But then, you’re remembering why you’re there. Pushing yourself to your feet, burning with embarrassment.

“Uh, right. The details.” You rush, turning away. Back towards the border of the property, your finger pointing, “The hot springs runs through your back yard and mine. Some huts are lucky enough to have their own.”

A shrug, as you turn back, “But most have to share. It’s great this time of year, it gets chilly at night. He’ll love it.”

Your head tilts towards Grogu, still munching away. Mando nods, slowly walking over to stand beside you, looking out at the natural springs. The thick trees above, making a sort of barrier to the huts behind it.

“Oh, and your house.”

The last detail.

“They’re built so you can add on. It’s a good size for one right now. But if you need more space there’s room on the sides, or add another floor.” You gesture to the spots, so he can picture the expansion.

“Should be pretty easy. You would just tell me or Karga, and there’s a couple droids that have it down to a science.”

His head tilting to look where you point. A beat, before he asks, “Have you added onto yours?”

Your eyes meet his visor, surprised.

Lips pressing together as you think about it, your head shaking. Smiling sheepishly.

“No. Like I said… it’s uh, good for one.”

He hums at that, but doesn’t ask anything else. Nor does he look away, his hands resting on his hips.

A dozen questions on the tip of your tongue. Holding them back because you’re not sure how to ask them. Not wanting the answer to be different from what you’re hoping.

So instead, you just smile.

“The last step is usually a tour, but I’m sure we can skip that part. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

There’s a beat, while he seems to think about it. A hesitance, before he nods.

“Right. Thank you, we should be fine.”

Almost a reluctance.

But you’re certain you’re imagining it.

———

It’s lucky that he didn’t take you up on the tour. You barely make the walk back to your house before your comm is beeping - an emergency that has you running back into town.

A no-show from a contractor, for a job that needed to be done today. The afternoon is spent with your sleeves rolled up, helping out yourself, the work bleeding into the evening.

The morning becoming a blur, as you drag yourself home. Just thinking about sinking into the springs for a couple minutes, resting your aching feet.

Grabbing a ration bar as you change into one of your suits, your robe and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Leaving the door open, letting the cool night air into your house as you head towards the back.

Your things dumped on a low wooden bench, as you stretch - arms high above you head. A low, throaty groan as you step into the hot water, finding your favorite nook to rest in.

It’s only then, in the water with the skies above, that you think about the Mandalorian. A thrill at seeing him again, even if it didn’t go anywhere.

With his line of work, you can’t pretend you weren’t worried. Hadn’t been thinking about him, hoping he and his son were alright.

Hoping for other things, as well.

When your eyes finally open - you freeze.

The object of your affections sitting a few yards away from you, supplies spread out on the stone table. In the middle of cleaning a long rifle, a piece of cloth in his hands.

Seemingly frozen as well, his helmet tipped your way. The moment stretching out, until you’re letting out a little “oh”, dipping down into the water.

“Sorry,” You give him a little wave - unsure what else to do, “Didn’t see you out here.”

Moving closer to the edge, your hands bracing on the raised lip, “I can go. Long day, just needed a minute.”

“No.” He shifts then, a gloved hand going flat, “Please, stay.”

You’re pleased. To continue soaking, and to continue taking him in. Your chin resting on the curl of your fingers, watching him work.

It’s quiet - the rustle of the leaves above. A chirp of the crickets, the summer days starting to tip into autumn.

“What happened today?” Mando asks you, your head lifting.

Frowning - the question loaded. Did he mean earlier? Like, when you first rounded the corner into his backyard?

He takes pity on you, “You said today was long.”

“Mmm.” You sigh, now understanding. Biting back a smile, pleased that he’s asking about you, “I guess it wasn’t too bad. Just putting out a few fires for Karga.”

He hums, like he understands your implication.

But then, you’re remembering that he’s friends with him. Your nose crinkles, “Not that I am complaining. He’s done a lot for this city, we’re all grateful.”

“You can be honest with me.” His tone sounds amused, and you relax.

The tools set down, as he moves closer. The slow creak of his armor, the overhead lights glinting as he lower himself to one of the chairs that rest close to the edge.

Close enough that he could step into the water, the steam that rises up in the chilly evening air. His helmet tipping down to where you sit.

Your eyebrow lifts, “You thinking about coming in? I can close my eyes for you.”

Remembering what he said, before. The reason why he stayed wrapped in his armor, his helmet always firmly fixed in place.

His head tilts, considering. A long moment - as you hope - before he answers.

“Not tonight.”

The disappointment pools in your belly - but you move on quickly as he asks, “How long have you been working for him? I didn’t see you at the school.”

He had looked. That moment when he walked through town - later, when they ran into the pirates. A worry, fueling him to act when they had threatened to take that drink in the renovated building, where the old saloon used to dwell.

The disappointment melts into fondness, “A while. Close to a year? It’s fun, he can just be a lot, you know?”

He makes a sound of agreement, knowing full well.

“Very convincing and influential. I find myself doing all kinds of stuff just because he asks,” You laugh, your chin cupped in your hand, “He’s got his eyes on some big prizes. High Magistrate. Mining and trade routes.”

Your gaze drifts, going far away, “It’s great for the city. The expansion, all the money coming in. He loves it. The job, the finery of it all. But, personally… I’m not sure it’s what I want.”

The words trail off, as you get lost.

“What do you want?” His voice brings you back.

You blink, looking up at him, “I just want a place to call my own. Something just for me.”

Head tilting towards you little hut, as you start to feel a little self-conscious, “I’m sure that sounds stupid.”

His helmet stays focused on you, as he answers.

“No. I think I understand.”

———

When it came to this hut, he had floundered. Finding himself agreeing, even though he knew he’d be gone again in days. Now, there’s a question that lingers. Heavy on his mind and heart as the hours bleed into the next.

But this time, he knows what he wants. When the question comes, he’ll have the answer.

The next evening, he’s waiting for you.

Surprising you, seeing him in just the flightsuit, as you exit your hut. Pausing mid-step when you see how he lingers. Self-conscious now, in his own way.

Your question comes, again.

“You coming in?”

This time, he nods. Fingers lingering at the zipper on his chest - the anticipation curling in your stomach as you watch.

His hands going still. Wanting this, but the sting of his betrayal to the creed is still a fresh, aching wound. Letting someone see his face. Even though it was the only way.

You head inclines towards a spot in the back of the springs. Where the trees are thick, blocking out the twinkling stars above.

“I can wait there.” You tell him, “I won’t look.”

It’s the last assurance he needs.

He nods.

Making you way to the back, sinking down into the springs. Nervous and excited and thrilled, as you find the spot - where he joins you soon after.

Helmet still on, you can hear the buzz of his groan as the hot water hits his skin. Easing the aches in his back, from the hours of flying.

It’s a little narrow for two, but you fit together - facing each other, under the trees. Where the night and the shadow of the branches weave together - until you can only see the soft, loose outline of his shape.

You can’t believe he got in. Fingers itching to reach out and touch - but you hold back. Still not knowing how he feels, if he wants the same thing as you.

Instead, you fill the silence with soft questions. About him this time - where he’s been, what’s happened since you last saw him.

Some of the tension easing.

And slowly, he tells you. How they became separated. How he had gotten him back, only for the reunion to be cut short. Never saying how the absence effected him - but after seeing their bond today, you knew it had to be hard.

Finally, about their reunion.

With each story, each confession - you find yourselves moving closer. Inching along the natural stone seating until the feet of space dwindle down to mere inches between you.

You wonder if he can hear your heart. The way it thuds in your chest, as his knee brushes yours.

It’s quiet now, other than the ripple of water as your leg stretches out - foot resting on the outcropping of rock he sits on.

"I'm not staying long. Just a few days." The rasp of his voice breaks the silence. His leg brushes yours again.

A soft warning. Letting you know that this would be like last time.

But it’s not the same. Not really.

Your lips press together - the peek of your tongue as you wet them, "You'll be back. You just bought a house here."

"Yes.” He acknowledges, “But I don't know when-“

“I don’t mind”. Your own confession comes easily, in the dark. Leg shifting until your foot taps against his thigh, against bare skin, "Stop overthinking things. When was the last time you had some fun?"

There’s a low breath at your question, a buzz through his vocoder.

"Not since I last saw you."

You know he doesn't mean yesterday. The tickle in your stomach turns into full-on butterflies as your fingers drift - bridging the small gap between you. Finding his on the stone.

Fingertips dragging across knuckles, the back of his hand. Against smooth, bare skin. Before he moves - his hand curling around your wrist, tugging you forward.

A startled yelp as he hauls you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his - shins pressing into the bench beneath you.

Hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders. His own slowly sliding over your thighs, up to your hips. Fingers kneading soft flesh as you shift, fitting yourself snug against him.

Feeling him.

The clothed, thick curve that’s pressing against your core. A soft sound in your throat as you rock your hips unconsciously against his cock, finally putting pressure on the spot that has been aching for him.

“Maybe you can remind me how.” He rasps, his own hips tilting up, grinding.

Your laugh is strangled as you meet him. Relief in many more ways than one as you brace your hands on his shoulders. Moving more purposely this time as you roll your hips.

Finding the spot that makes you shudder, nails sinking into his skin. His own hands grasping at you, the sharp hiss of breath through his helmet.

It’s too dark to see more than outlines, but you still find his visor. Trying to imagine where his eyes would be, before yours drop down - admiring the rare glimpse of his neck.

His shoulders, broad and strong. Fingers touching features you can’t make out - the coarse, peppered-grey curls on his chest. Decades of scars, each with a story. His form slightly softened by age, but still moving you effortlessly.

The grip on your hips loosen, a hand drifting up. Leaving droplets of water on your skin as his fingers skim your waist, then higher.

A knuckle brushing your breast, over the top of your suit. Teasing at the edge.

“Gods, yes.” You sigh, leaning back to give him room.

To watch him tug the cloth to the side, then down. Baring a breast, and then the other. Fingers dipping down to the water, dragging a wet thumb over the pebbled peak.

You’re clenching, your pace picking up. Leaning into his touch, grinding your pussy against him.

That low voice of his, encouraging you, “Keep riding me, mesh’la. Fuck, just like that.”

It makes you shudder. Pleasure coils in your head, the build-up making your thoughts hazy. So close to what you need, but not quite enough.

A frustrated whine slides through your teeth, your eyes lifting to his. A hand letting go to dip down, between your thighs - but he catches it with his own.

Bringing it back up to his shoulder, before his dips below the waistband. To where you’re wet, slick with arousal. Whimpering when his fingers circle your clit, making you mindless. Prone to babble, the words hushed in the quiet night.

“Stars, I missed you. Feel just as good as I remember.”

A beat, where his fingers linger. Just for a second, before he’s shifting beneath you - increasing the sweet pressure.

“You thought about this?”

Your eyelids flutter closed, your chest crushed against his. Feeling the slick slide of his fingers, exactly the touch you needed.

“Mhm. All the time.” The confession come easy, drunk as you are on pleasure, “How hard you made me come, how fucking good you are with your fingers.”

The praise sinks into his skin, smoothing over the thin cracks of insecurity. He had thought of you, too. Often.

Fucking his fist to the memory, so like the way your hand worked between your own thighs at night.

Just a night but it had felt like so much more. A connection.

He has you close. It almost feels like time is ticking down, each press of his fingers bringing you towards the end. An arm wraps around you, pinning you against him as you gasp.

More praise falling, just for him.

“Oh, you’re going to make me come. Just like that, please-”

His breath harsh as he concentrates, as your face buried into his neck. Muffling your cry as you’re brought over that edge, going stiff in his arms.

Gasping against his skin, as he coos in your ear. The words muted through the haze, buzzing against your skin. Finding bliss, in this dark corner of the springs.

A long moment of silence, as you find your limbs again.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, as your cheek presses against his helmet.

Cool against your hot skin, a soft sigh as you relax against him. Embarrassed, now your head is a little more clear, “What, that I fantasized about you?”

Mando makes a sound, a low laugh, “When you said you’d close your eyes. Did you mean that?”

Your head tilts back, so you can see him. Where his face would be, your palms skimming down his arms, “Yeah, I meant that.”

He stands then, taking you with him - your legs still hooked around his waist. Walking you to the side of the springs before your feet touch down, fingers curling around your wrist - tugging them up until your hand covers your eyes.

“Is your house the same as mine?”

Helping you out of the pool as you answer, his hand around your other wrist, “Mirrored.”

Guiding you to the back door, taking a second in the dark to wipe you both down with the towels you left.

Before he’s pulling you deeper, through the kitchen. Back to your bedroom. It’s still dark when your back is pressing against the matress, his hips between your thighs.

The light is low here. A string of ambient bulbs twinkling above your bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He pauses, as you shift below him.

Looking debauched, where you lay against the mattress. Bare legs, you core just covered by the cloth bottoms. The peek of flushed, tight nipples where he has tugged your top aside.

Practically begging for his mouth, the brush of his tongue.

He had been planning to take you in the darkness. Now, he can’t bear the thought of not being able to watch you fall apart with his own eyes.

“Can I blindfold you?” He husks, fingers trailing up your thighs.

You don’t know why he’s asking, but you agree, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes.” The tips changing course, tracing the cut of your swimsuit, along the inside of your thigh, “Do you have something I could use?”

Already, the lack of sight has you on edge in the best way - your legs inching further apart. The hand not covering your eyes reaching up - searching beneath the nest of pillows.

Fingers catching on the elastic of the sleeping mask, as you tug it down. Another gift that Karga had discarded, one that found its way into your pocket, along with the matching silk robe, the jar of bath oils.

He helps you fit it into place, his thumb smoothing over your cheek - as your sight dissolves into true darkness.

Gasping, as he tugs at the ties of your top - baring you. A pneumatic hiss that you don’t recognize - ears straining as something heavy is set down on the side table.

The wet swipe of a tongue against the curve of your breast, flattening over your nipple. Wrapping around to suck, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” You hiss, reaching for him. Grasping strong shoulders that hover over you, as his knuckles trap the other, gently pinching.

His helmet. He took it off, for you.

The weight of his actions crash into you, a tightness in your chest that has you gasping. His groan sounding pretty as presses an open-mouth kiss against your sternum, the sound unfiltered.

Another, as he moves down.

“Wanted to fuck you in the hot springs,” Fingers catch on the waistband of your suit bottoms, your hips lifting as he pulls them down, “Tug these off of you, just like this. Would you have let me?”

You moan, unable to help it - your answer eager, “Yes. Anything you want.”

He hums in approval - broad hands nudging under your thighs, another tug as he pulls you towards the edge of your bed.

Even with the mask your eyes close, a thrill of excitement as you wait for the press of his cock. Aching for him to fill you, your mind taking you back to last time.

How he had sunk into you. The sweet stretch until the cool armor on his thighs pressed against your skin from behind.

“But there’s something else I wanted more.” His voice breaks into your thoughts, bringing you back.

And it’s not his cock that kisses your cunt. It’s his lips, pressed against the slick, swollen flesh. Your hips flex as you whimper, his hand sliding to press against your stomach.

Pinning you down, as he groans against your pussy. Tongue pointing to flick against your clit before he pulls back. The scratch of facial hair against your thigh as he presses a kiss there.

“Thought about you, too. Dreamed about tasting your sweet little cunt. Making you come on my tongue.”

His mouth following his words, warm where the rest against your skin. Taking his time as he spreads you open with his fingers. Tongue tracing from the tight bud of your clit, down.

Pressing the tip into you. Tasting your release, your slick arousal, as you reach for him. Fingers sinking into soft curls - another realization, another small detail about him that you tuck inside your heart.

You tug on them as he sighs against you, fucking you with his tongue. Slipping back up to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, while his fingers nudge at you.

Sinking the tip of one inside, teasing. Knuckles deep in your greedy cunt - first one, and then another. A low hum against your slit as you whine. Fingers crooking against the spongey spot that had you keening last time.

The combination is too much. Senses heightened to an extreme - each messy flick and press of his tongue sending sparks down your spine to collect and pool low in your belly.

Hearing each and every groan he makes, the rough timbre of his voice. Your own moans joining his, twisting around each other like your fingers in his curls.

The words panted out, achingly desperate.

“Oh, fuck-”

“Please, right there-”

Each breath shorter than the last. Your hands scrambling, leaving his locks to grip onto the pillow, as your hips flex against his mouth.

His fingers pounding steadily against a spot that makes you see stars. Chin and lips smeared with your slick as he coaxes you over the edge.

“Osik. I can feel you clenching around my fingers, mesh’la.” He groans, eyes fixed on where you take him, the silky shine of his fingers.

Flicking up to your face - wanting to watch you fall apart for him with his own eyes, “Want you to come for me, want to feel you gush on my fingers.”

And with a gasp, you do.

Your senses fading to a buzzing, white noise as your hips lift off the bed. Coming hard, pulsing around thick fingers as he watches, tilting his head to press his tongue against your clit. Feeling you there, each little thud where he’s pressed flat against you.

Leaving you gasping, loose-limbed. The sound turning warm and happy with the elation that spreads, settling over your limbs.

His hand swipes across his chin, as he pushes himself up. Arms wrapping under your thighs again, scooting you back onto the bed.

Achingly hard as he peels off the bottoms he still wears. Slick-stained fingers wrapping around his cock, the rough groan of relief as he jerks from base to flushed tip.

More than pleased by the way he has you smiling. Contented and floating, just from his fingers - the inexperienced swipe of his tongue.

He’d learn, for you. Let your fingers twist in his hair, tug him to the right spot until it’s all that he knows.

For now, he soaks you in. His knees pressing into the bed, hoisting your thighs over them. Angling his cock down, to tap against your pussy - a string of your slick clinging to the tip.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Feeling it’s wet heat, the way you’re arching into him already. Eyes greedy as he presses into you, watching the tip sink in.

How the tight grip of your cunt chokes him - inching in further, before he’s retreating. Pulling back, sliding the soaked tip across your folds again.

Your teeth grit, your hands searching for him. Curling around his wrists, as his hands hold your hips in place.

“Mando, please. Don’t tease me.”

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. Tonight, you’re his. Days of uncertainty - wondering if you had thought of him the way he did of you, culminating in this moment of desire that burns through him.

Not wanting to hear the name that follows him like a shadow.

“Din.” He grits out. Something tight in his chest loosening, “My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

Your lips wrap around the gift, making him throb when you parrot it back to him. That need making itself known, as he sinks into you again.

“Want you to stay it when you come.” His hands yank your hips, as his snap forward. Seating himself fully as you moan - as he buries his cock in you.

Din’s voice sounding tight, as he adds, “You got that?”

“Yes, Din.” You sigh dreamily, clenching around him as he moans.

Letting him set a rhythm that starts slow - lets you feel each inch as he drags himself out, before snapping in. Picking up as you cling to him, shifting until your legs are wrapping around his waist.

Hovering over you, tucking you beneath him as his hips snap against yours. Your hands wandering - sliding across his shoulders. Thumbs sweeping over the hollow of his throat, down through the coarse hair across his chest.

So much skin, bared for you to touch. You want to know every inch. Wish you could see - but you’re not that greedy. Happy to take this reunion for every ounce that it was.

But he leans into it. The warmth of your hand, the way your thighs wrap around him. That stiff hold of his shoulder and back loosening, as he lowers himself further.

Unable to resist the urge to see what it’s like. To press his lips against your cheek, feeling the bite of your fingernails when you sigh in surprise.

The whimper as he moves closer to your mouth, until his lips are ghosting over yours. Your head tilting up to chase him in the dark.

His name, once again.

“Din.”

There’s a snarl that rises in this chest. Muffled by the time it reaches to his throat, as his lips finally press against yours.

Starting slow, like the rut of his hips. Just a soft brush, before he draws back for a breath. Coming back for another, as you sigh and arch into him. Lips parting as his tongue brushes the seam, his hand slipping up to cup the back of your head.

He tastes like you. The sweet tang of your pussy on his tongue. Delving into your mouth as he fucks you, as you can do little more than just cling to him.

Soft moans and the needy press of your mouths layering with the wet sound of your joining. The angle stroking his cock against the spot that his fingers found, stealing your thoughts.

Not even realizing it’s your own voice, the panting “please, please-”. Each breath after a soft “oh” that gets sharper, higher, with each gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The voice in your ear sends a thrill down your spine. Joining that familiar fire that pools in your belly, “You’re taking me so well. Are you going to come for me again?”

His lips press against your throat, where your heart flutters. Feeling the bitten-back whine, as your legs clench around him.

Bracing yourself for the pleasure that’s about to tear through you, the spark that starts down low before it races down your limbs.

“Give me one more, cyar’ika.” He rasps, and you can’t help but obey.

That strung-tight string snaps. His name a sob on your lips as the orgasm crashes over you. A pleased hum against your skin as his thrusts snap harder - the rhythm sloppy as you tremble in his embrace.

Din’s breath is hot against your neck, his forehead pressed to your cheek. Feeling the tight clench of your wet cunt around his cock - his fingers biting into your hip as he seeks his own end.

“Where do you want me?” He grits out, “I’m not going to last, feel so good-”

Your legs tighten around his hips, pushing him deeper. Fingers lacing around his neck, the tip of one finding his curls again.

“Come in me.” You beg - hearing his rough groan at your words, “Still have the implant.”

“Fuck.”

He had felt it, last time. You had guided his fingers to the ridge beneath your skin, in that moment where you waited with baited breath for his cock to fill you.

Emptying himself the first time from behind, bent over some crates in the hull. The second, hours later. On your back, like this - but he had been armored then, your bare skin reflecting off the beskar as he stood between your thighs.

But now, your limbs are tangled. The heel of a foot pressed against his ass, his body rolling against yours. The messy press of his mouth against your skin.

A hiss, as he inhales.

Hands gripping onto you, as that breath is released in a rough groan, your own name on his lips. A sharp thrust as he buries himself deep, a shallow rock of his hips with each flex of his cock as he spills into you. The warmth flooding your walls, as he moves until you’ve taken all of him.

Until the aching, burning need is extinguished - as he relaxes like you did. Your nails scratching up his back and into his hair, a rumble of contentment as he shifts onto his side, and then back, pulling you with him.

Reaching down with one hand to pull the plug of the lights from the wall, blanketing the room in darkness. Fingers gentle as he lifts the mask. The brush of his lips against your eyelids.

Your cheek pressing against his chest, as his fingers trace patterns on your skin.

“I’m really happy I got to see you.” You yawn - blissfully limp, as you curl against him, “Even if you have to go.”

Sighing, as you arm drapes across his waist, “I’ll keep an eye on things until you come home.”

Home.

He can't pretend he hasn't already thought about it. What you had told him earlier, about these huts.

How the structures could change, evolve.

Spanning the space between your properties - expanding the walls and connecting hallways until the two houses become one. Truly a haven, a place where he could see himself growing old.

Not now, but... maybe someday.

Once this final quest was completed. Once he was redeemed. A true Mandalorian, once more.

But, that would be some time away. He has no idea what he will find on Mandalore. How long it will take to find Sundari, uncover the mines. It was no use to dwell on that future, when everything was uncertain.

So, instead… he finds himself silently hoping that the Anzellans will take just a little while longer.

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think 💖

mesh’la - beautiful / osik - shit / cyar’ika - sweetheart

#just a little something fun - I’ve missed writing for him #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut

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jobean12-blog · 7 months

Text

Can't Keep my Hands to Myself

Pairing: Pre!Outbreak Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 1,922

Summary: You and Joel have been flirting and dancing around each other for months but neither of you have made a move so Tommy decides to take matters into his own hands and plans a night out.

Author's Note: Here is my second story for Kinktober! One of my favorite things ever are a man's hands and Pedro and his hands are like porn so here we are. I literally just melt when I see them. It's real. LOL Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, teasing, tension, pet names, light praise, mentions of a-l-co-ho-l, light di-r-t-y talk, semi-pu-b-li-c s-e-x, f-in-ger-in-g.

PS the way he fucking rubs the arm of that chair. IS HE FOR REAL?!?! WTF PEDRO. How am I to live? Anyway, enjoy <3

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Why do you keep checkin’ the door?”

Joel’s question makes Tommy pull his eyes away from the entrance of the bar as his lips spread into a wide smile.

“No reason big brother.”

Joel’s eyes narrow as he grinds his teeth.

“What are you drinkin’?” Tommy asks him, ignoring Joel’s gruffness.

“Whiskey. On the rocks.”

Just as the bartender finishes pouring the amber liquid and Joel lifts the glass to his lips he catches movement by the doorway. It swings open and you walk in.

You don’t see him yet but he can’t take his eyes off you. He watches over the rim of his glass as you scan the crowd with slow steps.

“I didn’t know she was comin’,” Joel mumbles before downing the rest of the whiskey.

“That a problem?” Tommy asks with a smirk.

“No,” Joel states. “Course not. Why would it be?”

Tommy and Joel stare at each other, an unspoken challenge in their eyes, until you shout Tommy’s name and launch yourself into his arms.

“Hi Tommy!”

Tommy wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek.

You slip from his grasp and turn to Joel.

“Hey Joel,” you say, more quietly.

You lean in to kiss his cheek, missing how his eyelashes flutter closed and his grip tightens on the drink he’s still holding, the glass dwarfed in his large hand.

“Hi darlin’,” he replies.

You start to catch up with Tommy and order a drink, the whole while feeling the weight of Joel’s eyes on you.

“Do you want another?” you turn to ask him, eyeing the empty glass still clutched in his hand.

Your gaze lingers on his hand longer than it should and Joel clears his throat.

“I’m good,” he answers, still watching you intently.

After Tommy finishes off his third drink he excuses himself to the bathroom and you find yourself at the bar alone with Joel.

“I’m going to have one more,” you state, more to yourself than him.

You lean over the bar and try to get the bartenders attention. As you’re doing so, a body knocks into you, throwing you off balance and into Joel.

With an ‘oof’ you practically land in his lap, your palms pressed to his chest and his hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out as your body instinctively moves closer.

“Are you alright darlin’?” he murmurs, still holding onto you.

“What?” you say, blinking at him.

“You ok?” he asks again.

“Um…yeah. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…that guy is drunk and…”

“It’s ok,” Joel says.

Your hands slide up his chest and onto his shoulders as you right yourself. He still doesn’t let go of you. The man behind you teeters again and bumps you, causing you to slip between Joel’s spread thighs.

“He’s really drunk,” you whisper, your face only inches from Joels.

“Seems that way,” Joel grumbles. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Fine,” you assure him, not wanting to move.

Joel’s eyes drag away from yours as he looks over your shoulder. The drunken man is still wobbling on his feet so Joel slides his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, getting you out of the way.

When he removes one of his hands from your waist and rests it on his thigh your eyes are drawn to the gesture. Your skin heats as he spreads his thick fingers and rubs his jeans.

“If he doesn’t move I’m going to make him,” Joel growls.”

Your eyes lift and you meet his gaze. “Hmm?” you ask.

Joel studies your face. “Sure you’re ok princess?”

“Princess?” you repeat, glad to have his solid body keeping you upright.

The corner of Joel’s mouth lifts slightly and his eyes sparkle.

“Totally fine,” you whisper.

When the drunken guy doesn’t leave Joel stands, keeping you tucked safely into his side as he shifts his body protectively in front of you to block you from any more harm.

You feel Joel stiffen when the man knocks into him and just as he’s about to tell him off, the man’s friend rushes over and pulls him away from you both and the bar.

“I hope he has a ride home,” you mutter.

Joel just grunts, his body still pressed to yours as he cages you against the bar.

Tommy returns from the bathroom with a satisfied smug.

“What’s goin’ on here?” he asks, raising his brows as he looks between you two.

You and Joel stare blankly back before quickly separating.

“Nothin’. All good,” Joel mumbles, sitting back down on the barstool.

“Some guy was drunk and kept bumping into me. Pretty sure Joel was about to kick his ass but luckily his friend saved him.”

You giggle and look at Joel, grinning when he winks at you.

“You never got your drink?” Joel says as he waves down the bartender.

He orders for you and gets another whiskey for himself.

While you wait for the drinks Tommy fills you and Joel in on his latest dating escapades. You’re listening, trying to focus, but when Joel starts to mindlessly smooth his hand across the bar top it distracts you and you find yourself drowning in thoughts of what his hands would feel like on your bare skin.

“Babe?” Tommy says, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Yeah! Hi!” you squeak. “What did you say? I missed that.”

“I could tell,” Tommy teases before repeating his question.

You don’t dare look at Joel because you can feel his eyes on you.

You manage to stay involved in the rest of the conversation but then Tommy gets a phone call and walks outside the bar to take it.

You fiddle with your empty drink glass and avoid meeting Joel’s eyes.

“What’s goin’ on with you princess?” Joel asks.

He mimics your movements, twirling the whiskey glass between his long fingers. You watch the action instead of answering.

“Can you stop?” you ask, a bite in your words.

“Stop what?” he counters, leaning into your space.

You huff out a sigh of annoyance and cross your arms over your chest.

“Why do you keep staring at my hands?”

Your mouth falls open and then you close it abruptly.

“I am not!”

“Yes,” he murmurs as he takes the edge of your stool and pulls you and the seat between his spread legs, “you are. Wanna tell me why princess?”

“I’m not a princess.”

You press your lips together and raise your chin defiantly. His lips curl slowly upwards as he lifts his hand and ghosts it along your thigh, his touch so light it makes you shiver.

Your breath rushes out in a sigh and you drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“You have hands!” you blurt out, feeling flustered.

He stops moving his fingers and presses them into your skin.

“You’re right about that darlin’,” he smirks. “I do have hands.”

“Joel!” you huff. “What I meant to say…”

You trail off and look for your drink but you finished it a while ago so instead you grab Joel’s whiskey glass and throw back the last sip.

“You have really nice hands and your fingers are so…so…”

After you say the words you dip your chin and settle your gaze on his fingers pressed into your skin. “They’re so big.”

When you lift your face to look at him his jaw is clenched, the muscles flexing as he holds your gaze. Your eyes drop to his mouth and then wander over his beard.

“See somethin’ else you like princess?” he simpers.

Your fingers reach out, hovering just centimeters away from his lips and your breath hitches when you feel his grip on your thigh tighten. The air between you crackles with electricity and it feels like your skin is on fire.

He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, tilting his head closer as his calloused fingertips slide over your silky skin.

The moment is broken when you hear your name being shouted over the noise of the crowd. Joel’s eyes snap up and he pulls back. Your turn to see your friend coming toward you. Her excited hello breaks you out of your haze but you barely have time to say anything to Joel before your friend whisks you away to the bathroom, going on about how great it is to see you and how she has something to tell you that absolutely can’t wait.

After giving her as much attention as you can muster without being rude you excuse yourself and sneak out of the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to get back to Joel.

Before you can turn the corner of the dimly lit hallway a strong hand wraps around your arm and you’re yanked into something hard.

You gasp but sag in relief when you lock eyes with Joel’s dark brown irises, feeling his chest brush yours with every breath he takes.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, tension radiating off his entire body.

“Missed me that much?” you counter, batting your lashes.

His eyes darken at your cheekiness and your eyes light up in victory. He carefully backs you up toward the wall, trapping you against it with his body.

“Think I’ll keep you all to myself for the rest of the night,” he whispers, his voice hot against your ear.

With an arch to your back you press closer, lowering your lashes as your fingers dance up his chest. When you hear your name, a whispered plea on his lips, you comb your fingers through his hair and tug on the soft strands.

His hand slips around the back of your neck and draws you closer, his mouth so close you can feel his warm breath.

You lift a challenging brow and he growls, squeezing your neck harder as his free hand smooths down your curves, teasing the hem of your dress.

He dips his head, inching closer and at the same time his fingers move higher, grazing between your legs. You tremble in his arms.

With a hiss he runs a finger over your soaked panties. His touch is teasingly light and you spread your legs, opening them in a silent invite.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing your panties aside and sliding his finger through your wetness, gathering it before he circles your clit.

“Tell me princess. What do you want?”

“You…your fingers,” you whimper as you circle your hips. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

His groan is guttural and in sync with your wanton moan as he slips a long finger inside you, pushing deeper when you beg for more.

It isn’t until you’re chanting his name and quietly pleading that he adds a second finger, fucking you in earnest.

Your eyes flutter closed but he slides his hand from the back of your neck and settles it at the base of your throat, putting light pressure before his thumb presses under your chin and he pulls your focus to him.

“No, keep your eyes on me. I want to see you come for me.”

You’re instantly on the edge, teetering so close that the slightest stimulation will make you shatter. With a swipe of his thumb across your clit he pushes a third finger inside you, the stretch bordering on pleasurable pain and you come hard, crying out his name.

He draws out your bliss, fingers still buried deep inside you as he growls in your ear, “you’re going to remember just how much you love my hands with every step you take tomorrow.”

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @pedritosdarling @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pre!outbreak joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #pre!outbreak joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #pre!outbreak joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #kinktober 2023 #hand kink

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dimepdf · 2 years

Note

pleaseee i think we all deserve a joseph quinn “wired interview” fic :))

WIRED INTERVIEW. + JOSEPH QUINN

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? [ ❥ ] synopsis. one of Joseph's first interviews following the premiere of the new season and his public disclosure of his relationship. author's note. tis my birthday!

[ ❥ ] pairing. joseph quinn x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 1.5k

[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. Fluff, actor!reader, black coded, based this from Kim and Pete’s relationship, Joseph being smitten, literally just fluff series masterlist.

Y/N L/N & joseph quinn Answer the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

The interview starts off pretty tame. The couple that sat in the white room in front of the camera beamed with perfect happy smiles.

Joseph could not help but to touch Y/n in any way that he could.

Many of the fans suspect that his love language might have been touch from the complications and tiktoks of the male always reaching to hug/grab/hold the woman.

Joe wasn’t shy about his smitten state over Y/n that festered throughout the young years of the actors knowing each other. I

f there's one thing that the internet has been talking about since the opening week of Stranger Things releasing their new anticipated season, it's the new couple on set: Y/n L/N and Joseph Quinn’s rumored relationship.

After the pair met in the following year for the production of season four of Stranger Things, they've been spotted together a number of times, including the very adorable trending clips of them trending of the pair being more than friendly, begging the question from their fans: are they an item?

Just weeks after the release of the new season, Joseph and Y/n were spotted holding hands during an outing in NYC on what seemed to be a double date with their co-stars Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton at a pricey restaurant in the city.

Photos of the pair caused fans to speculate that maybe it just wasn't their characters that had a connection as well, though a source told People at the time, "Since we’re like one big close-knit circle of friends just being friends, it might come off that way to other people."

Following the many sightings, Joseph and Y/n were reported to have gone on a more private dinner date at another iconic Italian eatery, Campania's, in New York's Staten Island.

A source told Page Six, "Y/n arranged a dinner on the rooftop privately," adding that they didn't bring security with them and "quietly were able to sneak in and out."

A report from E! at the time also revealed why Joseph apparently likes Y/n, saying, "Y/n is a very down-to-earth person, who seems very grounded and humble every time that they hang out."

People reported that Joseph and Y/n were seen mingling a lot together during the after party of the Stranger Things watch party. Sources show proof of the pair together in almost every video that was posted from the small party that was attended mostly by the cast and production along with friends.

A source told People at the time that the couple was "always together." It was a "big night for them," another source told E! News. "But it seemed like they were in their own universe." The source also said the two didn’t want to be perceived as a couple in public. "They were careful not to show too much PDA with so many eyes around."

With the entirety of the entire internet (including Dojacat) wondering what was going on between the pair, Joseph decided to settle things earlier this week, during his current appearance at Comic Con, where a fan asked the long awaited question about the situation.

"I think everyone just wants to know—me mostly because, hello, you’re both so fine—but is it really just a rumor or are you and Y/N really an item?" The fan asked as the audience voiced their approval of the question. "Or is it all just, like, really good PR? You have to be honest."

Joseph couldn't seem to contain his blushful glance as he playfully fauxed an eye roll, dramatically leaning back from his chair as the crowd seemed to get louder with anticipation of his answer before responding: "I'm more offended honestly that you guys think it was all just a PR stunt."

Understandably, the crowd completely lost it for a moment before Joseph finally said, "I mean, we made out that one time in public and the next day she was just scrolling through twitter and all the replies were just like "guys, they're just besties, calm the hell down" and I’ve never been more concerned because we weren't even trying to hide it, it was more just waiting until everyone caught on."

Over on social media, the fans could not contain their excitement over the topic of conversation. "Love a black woman to infinity to infinity!!" said one twitter user with the clip of the reveal, with another adding, "I know I'm biting her fucking pillow and peeling back her fucking wig because of this one lmaooo."

Joseph and Y/n just keep getting cuter and cuter since their relationship became public. Finally, the actors share their first ever pictures together as a couple.

Y/n posted to her instagram page a grid of pictures that left fans in a frenzy. The spam of posts featuring Joseph and her wrapped in each other's embrace during the start of the new season's long production revealed to fans the long timeline of their relationship.

The pictures in question are captioned: "I'm sorry that you seemed to be confused…" Many suspect that the caption was to shade Doja Cat, the artist getting into quite a situation with Y/n’s younger costar Noah Schnapp, after taking to Instagram Live to publicly post their Instagram direct message conversation in a since-deleted TikTok.

In the exchange, the rapper asked the actor to help set her up with his co-star Joseph Quinn, which Y/n/L/n seemed to not take much interest in.

Click to view video

“Okay well you have to say it,” Y/n gestured with her ombre french tip nails, adjusting her brown wrap halter top from the hem that snug onto her brown skin just perfectly. Joseph gave a sort of side glance to the woman as his eyebrows creased.

“Cause’ It’ll sound better coming from you.” The whine in Y/ns voice was clear, not it an annoyed way just in the way of being playful when behind the camera a slight hesitation in leaning into his immediate touch.

“Honey, I think you sound just fine.” He reached to squeeze the plush on the woman's thigh, the high of her olive green mini skirt that covered only her middle thigh.

“Oh fuck off—hello, im Y/n L/n and this is,” the pair giggled at the drastic and dramatic mood switch that conterted Y/n features, the woman raising her hand to cover her smile subconsiously as she laughed brightly.

“Joseph Quinn.” Joseph answered with his voice peaking into a more gentle softer tone because of the laughter.

“And today we’re doing the wired autocomplete interview!”

Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet.

So WIRED asked Joseph and Y/n L/n some of the internet’s burning questions.

The video cuts to Joseph sitting with his legs folded, the white board littered with questions perched on to the start of his knee joint, which formed a bend.

Setting the board at an angle so it was sort of presented to Y/n as she sat a little off to the side, the questions all started with her name as she slouched into a more comfortable sitting posture to subconsciously lean more into Joseph as the interview continued.

"How old was Y/n in the Bruno Mars video?" the first question shot off as Joseph peeled the paper away, revealing the answer as he flipped the strip from his bed of his thumb.

His dark brown eyes glistened under the studio light as he glanced at the woman with a content smile, watching the start of a smile creep onto her glossed lips, Y/n glancing up at the ceiling in thought. "I was like, 21ish when I recorded the song."

"Can I just say how cool it is that you’ve casually been just a song for such an amazing artist?" Joseph interpreted as Y/n giggled at the compliment, her shoulders bouncing with her laughter as he added. "Like how many people can just casually say, "Oh yeah, I was in a Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak music video?" That's insane to me."

"Does Y/n…play the drums?" the question making Joseph's lips pout out as he menetally recalled the many times he would beg you to play the drums for him after seeing the dedication you put into learning the instrument for the show, your character being the outcast with big round glasses but a killer drumming skill, your average height being just below Sadie Sinks, giving you an advantage to be in the younger iconic cast, being an award-winning favorite when introduced in the second season.

"Uh, yes? Kind of, not as much as outside of the show, but I still had to learn a lot for the show." She was fidgeting with the underside of her nails. "It's sort of annoying sometimes though, because I really love having a decent nail length and I remember having a really cute nail set during production and the stylist was just like, "yeah, rip those off for me." I’ve never been more pissed."

"Who is Y/n L/n dating?" The question led the couple to smile at each other, Y/n leaving a gestured thumb to her boyfriend of almost 3 years.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @prettyeyedmaureen @torynicholsgf @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @lafresamilk @loveshineslikethesky @haechaniebom @hello-1000 @vxid42 @biggestslutever @spenglerslime @eddiesbitchx @slvdsjjk @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @eichenhouseproperty @hotgirlsshareaccounts @ran-rap

@lloromanic-png @avasjunkpile @punkrockcrocks @first-edition-dumpster-fire @batmetallady @woahhhfidget @ireadstoriesnotmakethem @notsoshynomore @the-night-owl-blr @1efleur @todoroki-slut @mjauqeen @scarlet-kazuha @lattayhottay16 @astralwaifu @prettyplant0 @imliterallygonnagetviolent @strangerthanfanfiction713 @graktung @sughcashsaiki @fzzybrain @caseket @spiritualwhore444 @xoxo-dede @sapppy-cocktail @joyrubyjanee

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hijackalx · 6 months

Text

GORTASH NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

hmm honestly feel like it depends on if hes feeling u or not. if he was just trying to catch a nut hes rude af. like before he leaves he'll throw a wet rag at u. and he used cold water to get it wet 🥲 BUTTTT if he really does like u i think he'll prolly run a bath for u both or something. i can see him washing ur hair/body for u 🥺

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

his chest duhhh lol thats why he walks around with his titties out. i think hes got a really good upper body in general. like shoulders/arms/chest. and i feel like hes an ass man. yes that means all booties ALL. he likes to spank, bite, and leave marks all over it. omggg the type to smack or pinch ur ass in public LMAO

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

yall already know im a firm believer that this man cums bucketfuls. he'll have u sitting there like "damn why is it still going" LMFAO almost exclusively wants to cum inside. to the point to where its hard to convince him not to. he wants to breed u sooo bad 😭😭

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

*NONCON MENTION* it gets him concerningly hard when u tell him no but let him do it anyway. like i dont think he would ever AGGRESSIVELY force u to do anything hence the "let him", but something about being able to change ur mind/overpower u does something to him *NONCON MENTION OVER*

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

well. i think hes an expert when it comes to pleasing himself (which is typically thru penetration, so for my AFABs if yall can finish vaginally just know he do be laying pipe 🤤) but he didnt really grow up caring about his sexual partners much lol. i do think he wants to please you though, like badly. thats the only reason hes willing to let u offer some guidance when it comes to giving oral/fingering u.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

mating press yall. like when he hooks ur legs over his shoulders and basically folds u like a lawn chair lol. also likes doggy though so he can pull ur hair and leave welts on ur ass lol.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

hes wayyyy too intense to be goofy at any moment while u guys are fuckin LMAO. like this man loves sex and gives his ALL. he puts his mf game face on and locks IN baby 😹😹

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

YESSSSSS !!!!! YES !!!!! this man is SO hairy EVERYWHERE !!!! the same texture as the hair on his head. im about to faint yall catch me

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

uhh. i can see him being kind of romantic on special occasions. but like i said hes pretty intense usually and to me that doesnt leave much room for romance lol. especially since he can be so mean too

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

yeah. like all the time. hes a hornball so if ur not around as an alternative he WILL be jizzing into his hand. omfg if yall are like, ever distanced from each other he will want to send nasty ass letters back and forth to keep him satisfied until u get back LMAO god forbid they ever end up at the wrong place

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his office. will fuck on every surface and up against every wall. everyone else is afraid to touch anything in there 😭

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he likes when u seem weaker than him, either in the sense that he has a physical or mental advantage over u. dont let anyone else treat u like that tho or he'll think ur a pussy lol

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

^^ as i mentioned letting other ppl have the same power over u as he does is a turn off. so if ur like me u got to grow a backbone or get the boot 🥾🤾‍♀️ 😭😭 anyway. i dont think he'll be willing to do anything that makes him feel "lesser" or more submissive. i mean u could probably trick him into doing it if u make him think its his idea or something LMAO

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i genuinely think he eventually gains an affinity for giving ??? he likes the sounds u make and the way u pull his hair. so yeah, gives lots of kisses and will mutter a lot of praises while down there too. dont get me wrong though u better be giving back too 😹😹

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

rough as fuckkkk bro. doesnt ever like to be gentle. sex just brings out a lot of aggression in him. u will be sore and bruised after. if u convince him to chill out he'll be a pouty baby about it

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

anywhere and everywhere possible. i dont think its a goal of his to be seen by others while doing it but i also dont think he cares so that doesnt really stop him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he'll try to get u to do all kinds of fucked up shit. including shit that is probably lowkey dangerous 😹😹 hes pretty sadistic so get ready gurl

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

15-20 mins max shawty lmao sorry 😹😹 and since he wants to act like a wild ape ur prolly not getting a round 2 since he wore himself out. but if u didnt get off in time he'll use his hand to help u finish even if hes sleepy 😴

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

will tease u at random times throughout the day by saying some absolutely horrendous shit in ur ear while ur in public and then acting like nothing happened. but usually doesnt want to waste much time before the act, so he might tease just enough to get u ready. nothing more though

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

heavy grunter and breather. will only moan occasionally if its really hitting right 😹😹 if u do get him to moan i can see it being decently loud. its like a reward

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high libido man........ prepare ur hole 🪦

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sometimes he can stay awake long enough for aftercare but other times itll have to come after a power nap 😭 youll be like "bae how was it" and turn around to see him completely unconscious. snoring and everythang

#enver gortash #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #enver gortash x tav #enver gortash x reader #x reader #headcanons #my headcanons #bg3 gortash #lord enver gortash

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oonajaeadira · 8 months

Text

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 3: Autumn

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Angst. Canon-typical tragedy (not main characters). Childbirth. A few names that may twist a knife.

Summary: You give Joel a lot to think about.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

It takes a lot to gain Joel's trust, and even longer to tame him. Thanks for sticking it out this long. We're finally shifting into acceptance mode.

“No, they do not make you look old. They make you look like Joel Miller in glasses. Just like the last five pairs. These are distinguished.”

“Looks like something my old man would have worn.”

“Your dad must have been a stunner. Assume the position. Bottom line.”

Turning him by his shoulders, you square Joel up to the line on the floor across from the eye chart at the back of the Jackson commissary.

“P…E Z O L C…F…T D.”

You pass him a handwritten note. “Good. Now use the bottom half of the lenses to read this one. Do it without squinting.”

Taking the paper, he squints. You pull on his arm to distance it correctly and he stops. He stares at the paper for a while. You might be concerned at the pause if he wasn’t taking a comically elongated time, breathing out hard through his nose, his jaw ticking left to right, feigning decisions, trying not to laugh. “Gimme a pencil.”

Without taking your eyes off him, you reach over to the counter and snag a pencil out of a cup and hand it to him, watch his eyebrows lift, his head shake, and give another dramatic sigh as he marks the paper before handing both the note and the pencil back over to you.

Joel Miller, will you go to the harvest dance with me? [x] yes or [ ] no.

“I don’t think these are gonna work,” he points to the black frames on his face. “Can’t read a damn thing. Not one damn word–” He can’t even make it through the sentence without cracking a smile, and only fully laughs when you playfully punch him in the arm.

“I’ll have you know this is a binding contract whether you can see it or not,” you join him in the tease, fanning the note in his face. “Just how blind are you???”

“Well, maybe I was working up to asking you the same question so…I guess not as blind as you seem to think.”

This slowly melts your laughter down to a smile. “Working up to it? What’s there to work up to? You mean… Did you…not want to?”

When his own smile fades, you realize too late that maybe he didn’t.

While you and Joel have fallen into a close friendship over the past few months, sometimes that’s all it really seems to be. There are moments that come close to something more–an arm draped over the back of your chair–or perhaps across your shoulders–as you stand in the back yard watching the fireflies, always a ready hand to help you up from a chair or the ground. If the two of you are ever in the same room, he’s always near, keeping you on his left where he can hear you. It took a while, but both Joel and Ellie have just stopped knocking when they come by, treating your house as they do Maria and Tommy’s–like family.

There are times he smiles in that way where his eyes shimmer and you think he’s coming around to falling for you. But he never pushes for more and you are beginning to wonder if he even wants that. After all, you’d learned from Tommy what life in a QZ can do to a person….and that’s on top of all the years the brothers spent surviving in some of the most violent and criminal ways possible.

Sometimes when you all sit out on Maria’s porch after dinner and watch the sunset together, he might take your hand in one of his–big, warm, roughened but gentle. And it’s at those times you almost forget about how he’d used it in the past. Almost.

With his bare hands, Tommy had said. Just come up behind ‘em and squeeze.

It takes time to become someone else. You always knew you’d need patience.

You just never braced yourself for something….a little less than affection.

“Listen, Songbird,” he sighs, his jaw shifting hard to one side. “I don’t want you to think–”

“Oh yeah, lookin’ goooooood,” Ellie’s opinion precedes your notice of her entrance. “Hey there, professor. I was looking for a book on relativity. Any suggestions?”

Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, he ignores her sass and turns instead to the commissary register to mark down the inventory he’s taking. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Maria?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, picking up an earthenware mug from a shelf and admiring the owl painted on it. “Her water broke. Baby’s coming. Can I claim this mug?”

“What??” Your body jerks, ready to run, but just barely holding back, shifting all the dismay you were just collecting and using it to power a new anxiety.

Joel’s head whips around, the glasses staying mercifully in place. “What are you doin’ looking for us? Go get Dr. Johnson!”

“Unclench yourself, my good sir. I already did. Went to her–” she says to him and then winks to you,”-- and Willa, thank you very much. You two didn’t tell me where you were going, you think I’m dumb enough to spend time hunting you down first? I’d be looking up and down Main forever. Have been. Almost went out back to see if you were eating spaghetti in the alley with one long noodle between you. Baby’s probably already here by now, jeez.” She spins on her heel, tapping the mug with a finger. “I’m taking this, thanks.”

Joel exchanges a look with you, the former conversation shoved roughly aside for a new concern. “I’ll register it and grab a few other necessaries. You go.”

This is no time to pick up the dropped dialogue but… maybe…should you stay and help? Oh. It takes a second to click that you can leave it to him. You don’t have to tell the man what’s needed for a new baby…after all, he knows more than you. Even if it was a whole other life or two ago.

And with a nod, you shelve your feelings for one more day and jog out the door to catch up with Ellie.

_____

Willa’s just walking out the door by the time you get to Maria and Tommy’s.

“You’re going?”

“For now,” she nods, working her shoes back onto her feet. “She’s got a while to go. It looks like it will be a pretty straightforward labor.”

“Did Dr. Johnson have anything to say?”

Her exhale tests high for irritation. “She’s upstairs. Why not go ask her yourself.”

“Wait. Willa. Did she send you away? I didn’t want to call her, but Joel thought–”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m going to go take a nap so I can get through the night. But she’s using up all the air in the room and what Maria needs is to rest as much as she can and let it come. A good midwife would know that. Too bad the medical authority in this town is a gastroenterologist and not an obstetrician. It’s a baby and she’s treating it like an obstructed bowel.” Muttering something further about obstructions and matters of the bowel in regards to Dr. Johnson, Willa pats you on the shoulder before making her exit. “Maria can have water for a couple more hours, then sips only. Make sure she eats something.”

Upstairs you find your old friend in full concentration mode–laying on her bed, eyes closed, breathing hard, forehead smooth but glistening–as she awaits the next contraction. Tommy’s curled up next to her, holding one of her hands, his forehead to her temple, matching her breath for breath.

Her other hand is being held aloft as the good Doctor checks her pulse. “Family only,” she condescends as you enter the room.

“Good idea,” you say, plonking down at the end of the bed with enough of a bounce that Maria opens her eyes and glares from behind her belly. When you point to her swollen feet and let your eyebrows request consent, she nods, shuts her eyes, and focuses back on the process as you take a foot onto your lap and start to massage.

Maria groans in contentment and Dr. Johnson takes it for discomfort. Turning to you, her silvery hair pulled back into a tight braid, her frown causes her jowls to deepen. “I really must insist that you clear the room. The fewer distractions she has, the better things are going to go for her.”

You pull your stockinged feet up onto the bed. “Is that how it was when you had kids?”

“I never had children,” the doctor snaps.

“I see. Well, Maria said she was gonna freak out if I wasn’t here, so it seems now we’ve got ourselves a conundrum between what the doctor says and the patient wants. But, seeing as how this is her second child and she is very much my family, I think I’m going with her wishes on this. I never got to meet the first one; I’m sure as hell not gonna miss a minute of my new godchild.”

“Who said you were going to be the godmother?” Maria grumbles.

“I did. It’s your own fault. You left the position open and nature abhors a vacuum, so I’m gonna plug my old ass into that hole.”

“You are mixing so many metaphors there. Where’s–nnnnn,” her face becomes a wall of teeth as the contraction hits, her body a live wire as you and Tommy move to soothe. It takes a good minute for her breathing to slow enough to ask, “Where’s…Willa?”

“She says she’ll check back in tonight. You’ll probably be at this awhile.”

“Well, then, if you’ve got your magic healing woman then I’m not really needed here,” Dr. Johnson’s smile only travels halfway up her face. “Blood pressure’s doing well, no signs of abnormality. I’m sure you’ll be just fine. If you need me, you know where to find me. Just send the foul-mouthed girl again. Certainly with a set of lungs like that, she can easily wake me up in a matter of minutes.”

Nobody stops the good doctor on her way out and the train of her passive-aggressive, attention-seeking attitude trails behind her.

“She means well,” Tommy answers your scathing look.

“Your wife didn’t ask for her.”

“My wife’s never been through labor without drugs before. And she’s older now. I just…” his eyes soften on her with concern as he leans in and presses a kiss to Maria’s forehead, “I just want her to be okay.”

“She’s Maria. Of course she will be.”

The subject groans with a minor cramp. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here and go make me a taco. I’m starving.”

She’s less than thrilled with the berries you bring instead– “water and fiber now, carbs later” –but is placated with you reading her to sleep from one of her favorite Amy Tan novels. Every now and then she wakes up with a contraction, but a little soothe in your voice and she’s out again.

After a few hours, Tommy goes to nap in a spare room and Willa returns with a bag full of clean linens, ready to take over, sending you out to get your own nap in.

It’s quiet downstairs, the setting sun throwing long shadows through the western windows, mixing with a few faint rainbows still filtering through the leaded stained glass over the door.

Maria’s not far from you in age. If there were still doctors in hospitals, they’d call her pregnancy not just geriatric, but advanced geriatric. Even with all the medicine that used to be available, she and the baby would still be under the care of several wary eyes. If they both make it, they’ll have beaten the odds. If they don’t–

Slumping down on the couch and pouring yourself over it–just to put your feet up and your head down for a second…just a second–you push worry out of your orbit. This isn’t a world to worry in anymore. What comes comes. All you can do is what you can do. Maria is strong. Tommy loves her. Willa’s capable. The baby’s on time. Everything’s going to be fine.

It has to be.

It hurts too much to consider an alternative.

_____

When your eyes open again, the house is dark and quiet, the sun long since set.

Although, not so quiet when your stomach growls. Nor so dark either, as you notice a faint glow coming from the kitchen.

A simple investigation leads you to a tea candle burning in a jar on the countertop, next to a scrap of paper with your name scrawled on it and a plate covered in a linen dishcloth, under which you discover a flatbread sandwich.

One look at the handwriting and you can imagine Joel coming by to check up on things only to find you asleep on the couch. There was no gentle-but-possibly-disruptive blanket-covering, no “thought you could use something to eat” beside your name on the note. Nothing but reverent candlelight and one word to let anyone who found the plate know for whom it was intended, no requests or commands, just a quiet devotion, a simple offering to a sleeping idol to be taken or left as you chose.

If he doesn’t want you to fall any harder for him, he’s doing a terrible job.

_____

The final labor comes the following morning, Tommy holding one of Maria’s hands and you the other–both of you gritting your teeth as her grip leaves bruises–and Willa holding the soles of Maria’s feet, giving her something to push against.

Joel’s been tasked with guarding the door to the house since Maria’s taken to screaming with each push–not in pain, but in ferocity–and the neighbors have been coming around in concern. He’s quick to turn them around and send them on their way and you’ve gathered from Ellie’s reports that they seemed offended until she started volunteering the information that Willa is upstairs helping out. Then everyone readily accepts that all is well and being taken care of.

But Maria, she’s the real star of the show here. Yes, she’s in pain, and yes, she’s tired and weeping–no tears, dehydrated–but she’s nothing if not a fighter. She wouldn’t be in Jackson without that being true. And, frankly, Jackson wouldn’t be Jackson if it weren’t true either.

When it’s all done and the delivery miraculously comes off without a hitch, when Willa checks the baby boy over and finds him responsive and healthy, ties him off and hands him over to Tommy, taking her leave to go wash up and rest, the room is eerily quiet.

“Hello, little man. I’m your dad,” Tommy whispers, on the edge of tears but too tired to cry as he sits next to Maria and shares the bundle with her, the two of them staring down in awe at the tiny new human. “I’m your dad, and this is your beautiful, strong, fantastic mamma. And your auntie’s here too and we’re all damn happy to meet you. Welcome home.”

Maria smiles wide, the pain already fading to memory, an unnecessary detail she’s gonna leave behind her in exchange for exponentially better days ahead.

“Good job, you three.” Adding to the kiss count on Maria’s head, you start to pick up some discarded towels and sheets, preparing to leave the new family to rest. “Did you finally agree on a name?”

“Oh, I think I settled early on,” Maria sighs, completely in love. “Riley.”

You hum in satisfaction. “Nice. Where’d that one come from?”

“Ellie suggested it and it just hit me right. It’s a good name for a boy or girl, but mostly I liked it because it’s a fighting name. All riled up and ready to go.”

“Sounds like trouble.”

Maria snorts. “Oh, I’m sure. After all, he is a Miller.”

“Damn right,” Tommy whispers, bestowing his legacy.

It’s an easy decision to make, your vow of silence. You’ll never let them know you feared losing her. Not when there’s more now to protect, more to love.

There's been enough fear. It isn't worth your time.

_____

Over the next week and change, a routine easily emerges. You make yourself available during the day for any needs–help with cooking, diaper washing, or just rocking Riley while Maria has a bath or Tommy needs a nap. After school, Ellie comes by and adds two more hands, truly turning childrearing into a village affair. Joel’s the last to add to the party after the sun starts getting low and construction on the new district slows down for the day, earlier if it’s his day for patrol. Every night is family dinner night now and sometimes Riley’s actually awake enough to join them.

Ellie can’t get enough of her new little friend. If she’s got empty hands she willingly fills them with baby, either rocking him or laying him on a cushion to watch him watching her. She’s not had a lot of experience with babies or newborns other than the lambs, but she’s a quick learner. It’s just one more thing that this harder world has deprived her of. Babies were few and far between in the QZ and Ellie seems bound and determined to make up for lost time, not wanting to miss an instant of growth or change.

Joel, on the other hand, is more stoic. If he was hard of hearing before, it almost completely disappears when Riley’s in the crook of his arm. He can’t help but be captivated by his new nephew and you catch a fond smile creeping along his cheek now and then, but there’s always something a little sad behind it, and when the light catches a glimmer off the face of his broken wristwatch, it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking.

It’s during one of these moments when Maria’s napping and Ellie and Tommy are out in the yard, that you finish up the dishes and plop yourself down on the couch next to Joel.

“Your arm tired? Want me to take him?”

“No. I’m fine,” he says quietly, trying not to wake the boy. But the silence is more for himself than the baby–Riley sleeps hard. For now.

You simply draw a knee up onto the couch and lean your elbow against the back cushion, watching them, chin in hand.

“Where’s Ellie?” he finally asks.

“Enough leaves are down. Tommy’s out back showing her how to make a leaf pile. And what to do with it.”

He chuckles, knowing exactly what’s proper and good to do with leaf piles. “We used to have a big maple out back when we were kids. Dad spent hours raking and nothing he could say or do could keep us from demolishing his work. Whip our hides and we'd be back out there the next day making a mess.”

“Well, at least lawn maintenance isn’t such a priority anymore, right? Just think of all the leaf piles this one’s gonna get. Let the destruction commence.”

“Yeah.” It’s slow and subtle, but the light slowly leaks from him, a twilight descending over his brow. “I guess there’s still a few pleasures to be had for kids in this world.”

This is why he’s always so contemplative with Riley. Worrying. Taking everything he’s seen and experienced and piling them onto one little baby, doing the parent thing, hoping that they’ll have a better life…but doubting that it could ever happen.

“There’s always going to be something, Joel. If the world hadn’t gone to hell, there’d still be car accidents and kidnappers and war in some far off country and the capitalist job market. A kid has every chance to have a good life in this time as in any other. And even if it isn’t in the world we remember, this one has you and me and all of us in it to look after one little boy who gets to live a life. Isn’t that what’s great?”

“Is it?” He finally turns to you. “You think it’s a good idea to bring a kid into this disaster?”

His eyes lay bare the puncture you’ve made in him, his sorrow and apprehension starting to vent, and it seems he hopes you can patch the hole because god knows his hands are full and not steady enough to handle the delicate procedure.

“Hey. Kids are going to happen, Joel. People are still going to find each other and fall in love and I hate to break it to you, but babies are sometimes a consequence of that. Biology’s a hell of a thing. But just because it’s not the world we knew as kids doesn’t mean it’s not worth living in. In fact, Ellie and Riley are going to do better than us, because they were born into it. They’ll have all of this kind of living in their bones from birth and don’t have to take twenty years to relearn it all. Or use up twenty years living life with regret.”

You expect him not to take that well, but he surprises you, softens, and turns back to the baby, his eyes skipping to his watch.

Maria told you once that sometimes she’s glad that Kevin died. He was still young–only 3 and a half–but he would have remembered. He would have held trauma. Back then, a lot of the little ones were lost, either to hunger or to attack…they didn’t know enough to be quiet.

Sarah on the other hand…. Joel didn’t know it, but Tommy had said once that Sarah would have never made it in this world. Too good. Trusting. Gentle. She would have been taken advantage of or become severely damaged by the shift coming in her formative years. Children are resilient, but a teenager’s psyche could be a difficult thing.

“Still not a good idea,” he mumbles. “But he’s here now.”

“Thank god. Maria needed another man in her life to boss around.”

He’s not budged by your joke. Instead, he side-eyes you, hits you with a cynical question, trying to knock you off your rosy pedestal. “If you’re so happy about kids, why don’t you have any of your own?”

You shrug. “Got sheep. What. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what.”

“Not every woman wants kids, Mr. Man. Even if they like them a whole lot.”

“Biology’s a hell of a thing.”

Catching his not-so-clever info gathering, you smirk. “I had other things to concentrate on. And in the meantime, the factory had blessedly closed down.”

He can’t help the instinct that makes him truly assess you now. “You’re not old enough for that.”

You chuckle. “I’m starting to think what you don’t know about women could fill a few books, Joel Miller. You let me know when you’re ready to brush up.”

It’s at this point that Ellie calls in from the porch, telling Joel to “get your flat ass out here! Tommy says you’re a champion leaf-piler!”

“Goddammit,” he hisses as Riley starts to stir.

“Go on,” you smile, holding your arms out for the baby. “I’ve got him. We’ll need to wake his mamma up so he can eat soon anyway. Go on outside and play with the other kids. Be home before dark.”

_____

A few nights later, you’re making assessment in a full-length mirror on the inside of a closet door in a room in your house you very barely use. When was the last time you really had a look at yourself? And when was the last time you wore a dress?

Sure, it’s a fall dress, fine-knit by Addie as a gift for bringing her on as a Roostling so many years ago. You keep it for special occasions, which means you get to wear it maybe once a year. The wool is undyed, so the natural oat goes well with your brown leather work boots. Unfortunately, shoes are at a premium, so having a second pair just for fancy isn’t really a thing anymore. Doesn’t matter. The weather’s been a bit wet and the streets a bit muddy. Boots’ll do you just fine.

But you haven’t worn your hair like this in ages. Freshly washed and let to dry rather than set back or under a bandanna for utilitarian purposes, you almost forgot what it looked like natural like this.

You almost forgot that you could actually clean up quite pretty. Huh. Imagine forgetting a thing like that.

The knock at the front door’s expected. Even though Ellie and Joel come and go as they please, tonight you knew he’d do the polite thing and knock. The comfortable part of you wants to call down and tell him to just come in. But the hopeful part of you knows that this is his way of making an effort. Of taking a step your way.

“You sure?” you’d asked Maria earlier in the afternoon. “You’re gonna be okay for the night?”

“It’s a dance, not a trip to the moon. And Ellie’s here. We’ll have fun.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly not happy about diaper changing duty, but smiling through it. “Please. Go. Get him out of the house. The later he comes home the better. Bonus points if he’s not back until morning.”

“Jesus, Ellie.”

Maria only smirked in full agreement.

He’s waiting on your porch when you open the door, one thumb tucked into his belt, the other holding onto a porch pillar as he examines the sole of one boot.

“You step in something?”

“Shit, I hope not. I just cleaned these. I thought–” but of course he stops when he looks up and sees you. Joel himself doesn’t have a lot of extra clothes, and is dressed in a clean dark flannel and jeans, nothing you haven’t seen before–although tucked in this time–his hair is still wet and slicked back, exposing more of the gray.

Your getup, however, is a new sight for him, and he’s struck enough to let it show on his face. So you give him a twirl, let the dress swing a bit. “Get your fill, I only bring this out like once a year. You’ve earned it this time.”

The smile is subtle, but it’s there, along with the tiniest of nods.

It’s not a long walk to the mess hall, but on your way you both determine that Joel’s definitely stepped in something, and yes, it’s still worth holding his hand. Horses are gonna horse and stepping in crap is an everyday occurrence when you live around animals at the end of the world. He seems grateful and maybe a bit chagrined, but neither does he seem ready to let you go.

The mess hall’s brightly lit; several jack-o-lanterns carved by the town’s kids adorn the long tables which spill out into the street to make room for the buffet and the dancefloor inside. A good portion of the town is out tonight and mingling under the canopy of string lights.

Addie and Goldie are the first to find you and greet you, the former admiring her own handiwork on your dress–even if she’s much improved over the years–and the latter pushing mugs of warm cider at you and Joel. Willa, it seems, took to the Roost short after Riley’s birth, always opting to take solitary watch during big gatherings and celebrations. But she did help with the decorations and is responsible for a good portion of the cornbread on the banquet table. When they start asking questions about the baby, Joel politely excuses himself, muttering something about getting you a plate.

“And how’re you doing?” Goldie asks, nodding after Joel. “I didn’t think that grump would warm up to anyone, but I suppose you’re tenacious enough when you want someone. I don’t blame you. Grey Fox indeed. If I was twenty years older, we’d have to share.”

“Yeah, he’s coming around.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever take up with anyone again. I heard Ellie had a run-in with the lye.”

A sudden lump rises, nothing you can’t swallow down. “She’s fine. And so am I. Maybe I'm a little lonely is all. Maybe I got a type. Here’s to hoping I’m wrong where it counts!” You smile wide, clinking your mug with Goldie’s and drink deep, chasing away whatever guilt rudely decided to come calling.

Tonight’s supposed to be happy. Tonight’s your night with Joel. Just you and him. No family, no interruptions. The past is the past. And this night is easily the first of many.

Soon enough you catch him waving you down at one of the tables and join him for dinner.

“Figured you weren’t picky, so I got you some of everything.”

“Hells bells, Foxy. Were you planning on dancing with me at all tonight? Because I won’t be able to move if I eat all of this.”

At least he swallows what he’s chewing so he can answer you between forkfuls. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat what you don’t.”

“Then how are you gonna dance?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t plan on gettin’ rowdy. Not with these knees.”

“Oh my god, you old man. Did you really come here with me just to sit and eat? There’s a band playing. And they’re good. You’re not gonna dance with me?”

“To be honest,” he says, straining above the chatter spilling out of the hall and taking another bite of chicken, getting it mostly down before continuing with a pained squint, “I was never good at it. One of those ‘stand around with a beer and watch the band play’ kinda guys. But a pretty girl wanted me to slow dance, I could do that. More swaying than anything.”

“Well I guess that’s something to look forward to then.”

“Good thing you’re easy to please.”

It’s another hour sitting at the communal table, the night settling in and the fiddle and guitar music rolling out from inside the hall. A few friends come by to visit, Missy Tippett makes her way to Joel’s right side to flirt and he pretends to hear her, answering all questions with a “yep” even if they aren’t yes or no queries and you do your best not to laugh. True to his word, Joel takes on the leavings of your meal–nearly half the plate–while you chat with folks, and he rises beautifully to the challenge. Without having to scrape and scramble in the QZ or starving out in the wilds, he’s put on weight since the spring, just enough to fill out his hollowed cheeks and pleasantly soften down his belly. He keeps active with the construction enough that he’s putting away more fuel than storage, but it’s good to see him enjoying the harvest.

You’re mid-conversation with one of Willa’s brothers when Joel taps a knuckle on your elbow. Turning to find him with his chin in his hand, he points inside of the mess hall where a slow song just started, an old Buddy Holly tune, True Love Waits. The time has come then. Like the worn shoe that he is, he gets up and re-tucks his shirt as you excuse yourself and then let him lead you inside to the dance floor.

He’s an old-schooler, guiding you close around your waist and taking your hand in one of his.

In all the time Joel and Ellie have been in Jackson what you’ve felt toward him was a strong pull, a crush, an attraction. It’s been years since you felt drawn to someone like this. But it isn’t until this moment that you actually register the ramp up and learn that your species of butterflies don’t really seem to reside in your belly, but behind your sternum. The tip of your nose and chin tingle with the proximity to his, his breath warm and apple-scented, his flannel smelling of soap and being dried in the sun. His hand fits perfectly at your lower back and your arm was made to curve up and around his sturdy, ample shoulder.

It’s that feeling where you can’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a fraction of a second for fear of losing control, and so you focus on his chin instead, yearning to land your lips there.

It takes most of the song to realize he’s doing the same with the top of your head.

You should say something; it feels odd not to be poking fun somehow. But then, you can’t think of a damn thing to say now that you’re exactly where you’ve been wanting to be all these many months. Well, nothing witty anyway.

“It’s been forever since I slow danced with anyone.”

“Out of choice, I assume,” he answers after a while. “Seems odd you being here so long and not spoken for.”

“Not everyone has to be paired up for life to be worth living.”

“Maybe not. But it looks like you want to and I’m not sure how anyone says no to you if you set your sights. You’re damn persistent.”

The song ends and you break to applaud, ready to quip back. But there’s a look on his face, and expression that you’re not able to categorize in the context of this moment, only that it looks like he might want to leave or be alone.

“Joel, I’m sorry if I pushed you. I know you’re still settling in. I didn’t mean to–”

But the next song starts up, sweet and slow–You Belong To Me–and he doesn’t give you a chance to finish. He just pulls you in close, tucking your head against his shoulder under his jaw, taking your hand again and holding it against himself.

“I’m settled,” is all he says as you sway.

Determination. That’s the expression. A commitment laced with lingering sadness or fear.

And that’s okay, you think. After everything he’s been through, that’s okay. As long as he wants to be here with me, everything’s going to be okay.

At the end of the song he peels away, and while the expression has softened, it still remains.

You reach for his hand. “You wanna walk?”

He nods. You let him lead.

Outside in the crisp autumn night air, he doesn’t take the direct path to your house, instead, he ambles slowly down another road, toward Maria and Tommy’s place.

Joel’s a thinker. He’s got things to say but needs to put them in order in his head first. So you let him organize while you walk slowly beside him, the light and the pretty violin ballad fading behind you. It takes a little longer than you expect and you’re almost to the house when he finally speaks.

“I’m not good at this.”

“You say that like there’s one right way. Like I’m expecting something out of you.”

It’s obviously not what he expected you to say. “But you are.”

“Okay, maybe. But I’m also willing to meet you where you are.”

“No, that’s not what…” he breathes out hard, frustrated that his thoughts are getting out of order, but you wait. “You should be…expecting…something. You should want me to…reciprocate.”

“I do want that, but I can’t force you and I know it.” You amble on, watch his jaw tick. “Joel, I’m crazy about you and I’d love nothing more than for you to feel the same way about me. It’s been a long time since I felt that way about someone. But I know it’s different for you. I know you were more recently attached, and for a long time–”

“It wasn’t like that. Well…wasn't like this, anyway.”

You follow him silently past Maria and Tommy’s place–dark, everyone asleep–and take a turn that will eventually lead you to your own house. A block goes by before he finds his next words.

“Tess and I…our lives…we were…rough with each other. Cared for each other, but we were hard. We had to keep on our toes, couldn’t let feelings get in the way or make mistakes. But all that…stuff… We had each other physically but we kept a lot at arm’s length. Like a survival mode. Conserving our energy for things that kept us alive. Safe.”

“I think I understand. Tommy said–”

“Tommy didn’t understand shit. He thought I was using Tess. But he was wrong.” Even if he’s keeping his voice even, his eyes cold, you can see his fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of your eye. “I…I needed her and didn’t know it. She was right there and I should have… told her so. That’s what I think I’m saying. I don’t have any practice in anything that isn’t just surviving. And I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

“Are you pulling a ‘you deserve better’ on me?”

Another look of surprise. Again, you’ve thrown him for a loop.

“Because I do deserve better. You’re right. I do deserve to be loved and to be adored and to be happy. But so do you. Most of us do. Doesn’t mean everyone’s gonna get it. Sounds like you spent the last decade and change denying it for yourself and to someone else. But at least you had someone. At least you knew where you stood. Me, on the other hand…I spent the last decade remembering something like that and wishing it would come back, knowing it wouldn’t, and beating off any chance of having it again like a damn fool. Maria ever tell you about Troy?”

His headshake is subtle, but his look of concern not so much. You decide to let it roll off you just as you had with everyone else in the past ten years.

“Figures. Tommy’s got a big mouth but Maria’s always kept her trap shut when it’s not her story to tell.

“Troy was my...husband. We were married for three really good years. He was a refugee, like you. Came through from Seattle QZ with his sister. Ash was a wild one, loved the sheep. She was the last trainee we had before Ellie came out. She had a habit of wandering though, hopping the barrier for berries and honey and just to run free in the woods without a care in the world. Almost cut her off from going out to the Meadow, but Troy spoiled her, took her side in most things. His only weakness. Damn, I loved that stupid man so much.”

Coming up to your house, you take a seat on the steps, not ready to go inside yet. As you continue, Joel follows your lead and ends up beside you.

“You ever wonder why Maria and I don’t live on top of one another? Troy and I lived in the house next door. Once he died, I couldn’t bear to live there anymore.”

The breeze picks up and you give it a minute to die down. Joel’s voice pushes through your silence just above a whisper. “What happened?”

“Troy and Ash were out at the meadow and they weren’t answering the check-ins. So Willa and I went out there with the patrol. Right away we see almost the whole herd gathered in one lay. Not like them unless they’re protecting a sick or injured one. And that’s what they were doing, all huddled around the hole.

“Can’t say for certain how it went down, but from the looks of things, Ash got herself bit, nearly took off her forearm. Back then the area wasn’t so cleared out and Ash liked to play her chances outside the barriers as I’ve said. Must have scrambled back in and come looking for Troy or he brought her back thinking he could fix it and found out he was wrong. He blew her face clean off. He must have dug the hole and put her in it. Covered it with lye. Got in there with her. Shot himself.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Bodies were in pretty rough shape when we found ‘em.” The stars are bright tonight as you blink back tears in the dark. “I shouldn’t have let her go out there. I thought he would get her to take it seriously. I should have pushed. But. They were so close and I also know that I couldn’t ask him to choose my wants over hers. And in the end it looks like he wouldn’t have picked mine anyway.”

The power from the dam is being conserved for the harvest dance tonight, so the streetlamps are dark on your row. But the moon’s bright enough to catch Joel watching you, reassessing you.

“I’m very, very capable of deserving love, Joel. And I’m capable of giving it with my whole, stupid heart. I remember what the world used to be, and how it turned on a dime and how we all lost everything we were and had. And when I met Troy I thought that love could fix it. Nope. It doesn’t fix it. The past doesn’t go away. But it’s nice to have someone to walk through the better days with. To choose to live in the present and make it brighter.”

As if the world is an underscore to your story, one last, lonely cricket interrupts the silence, a holdout for the season, waiting a little too late to find itself a mate and a home.

“I’m a murderer, Songbird.”

It’s a simple statement.

“I know you are.”

“Just so you know. Just so you know what you’re getting into.”

Now it’s your turn to gather your thoughts. “We’re all a pile of our many selves. Who we were, who we choose to be going forward, how we see ourselves, how others see us. It’s all there, always will be. All of us a little broken. Fractured. But it doesn’t have to be just one thing forever. There’s no mark of Cain here. Just making choices every day to be the person you want to be. You find your people and you take care of them as best you can, and they do the same for you. You slip up, you start over tomorrow.”

And now it’s his turn to blink up at the night sky.

“You did what you had to do, Joel, we all did. We all had to revise the moral manual for a minute. Nice thing about Jackson these days is that there’s nothing you have to do. You can just do what you want, what makes you feel whole and alive. And if that’s something different every day, then that’s your choice. You say you’re not good at this, but you are. You danced with me. Walked with me. Listened. You’re just as good as you have to be and if you want to be better at it then you just...try again. You get unlimited tries.”

His expression is muddled in shadow, his face turned out of the light and focused on you.

Suddenly tired, you stand up and walk up the stairs to the door. “I had a nice time tonight, Foxy. The best. Even if it ended on a downer.”

��That’s my fault.”

“No. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just what life is now sometimes. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He’s slow about it, but he climbs the last few steps to the porch. You were wrong about the solitary cricket; there’s still a few still pushing the limits, challenging the first frost, singing to the moonlight.

Reaching out, letting his fingertips trail your arm all the way down, he captures your hand to keep you still and moves in, slow and quiet.

When he finally kisses you, it’s a tentative declaration, a promise of what he can give right here, right now; his kiss lingers in apology, showing you in every way that he has trouble letting go, unpracticed in being tender, but he’s willing to try.

Finally.

Every second lingered is worth the wait, only because you can feel that it won’t be the last.

“Guess I shouldn’t put off until tomorrow what I can start on today then,” he says when he steps back.

“That's a real good start.”

There’s not much more to say as he makes his way down the steps off into the night and toward his own house. No need. No expectations. There’s always tomorrow.

And since Joel’s come to town, it seems like every tomorrow’s usually been better than the yesterday before.

_____

You’ve been sitting on Maria’s couch knitting a sweater in the chilly morning sun for at least a good hour when Ellie comes down from upstairs.

“Oh hey, you’re here,” she says, throwing herself down on the floor by your feet and beginning to paw through your basket.

“I am. Didn’t have any plans today, thought I’d come and be on hand. How’s Riley?”

“Down for one of many naps. He’s growing so fast already.” Finding a full spindle in your stash, she begins unwinding it and forming it into a neat ball with practiced hands.

“That’s what babies do. He’ll be walking and talking before you know it.”

“We should bring him out to see the sheep when he’s walking.”

“We’ve got a corral of milkers in town he can visit. Probably not a great idea taking kids out of town. You’ll see when he’s up and about. Little kids like get away from you and hear themselves scream. Hard to keep safe if you’re dumb and loud.”

“Oh. Right.” She’s silent a while, slowly building her yarn ball.

“Something you wanna ask me? It’s not like you to volunteer to help with this part.”

There’s a certain way Ellie chews her lip and scrunches it at the same time. “I was thinking of asking you…if I could stay behind next time you go out to the Roost.”

That makes you chuckle. “Riley’s a little more fascinating than the sheep right now, huh. What. You thought I’d be mad?”

“No, just…I do like being out there. But I also feel like I can help here. For now. And I know you’re skipping your weeks to be here and I thought if I stayed you could go and then there’s still enough of us around….”

“The sheep are in good hands, they can wait. I’m in no hurry and I don’t mind being here. But I appreciate it.”

The yarn’s coming to an end, the ball in her hands reaching a pleasing softball size. “Can I ask you a favor then?”

“Of course.”

“Tommy went out to the reconstruction site and left his lunch and Maria asked me to bring it to him so he doesn’t come home for it and wake her or the baby.”

“But you wanna stay here.”

“Yeah.”

“Good timing.” Smiling and finishing up your row, you tuck the needles and sweater into the basket. “It’s a nice, dry day for a walk and I’ve been meaning to go see that sector. Tell you what. Eye for an eye. I go out there, you ball up all those spindles while I’m gone. Don't undo my knitting."

What the autumn sun is lacking in warmth, Ellie makes up for it with that spark of unbridled joy. “Fuck yeah, deal!”

_____

Swinging a bundle bag full of Tommy’s lunch and other sundries, you walk out to the old north edge of town. The wall’s come down here, another one erected a handful of blocks beyond, re-civilization slowly sweeping and expanding out as the need arises. The houses are in varying stages of disrepair, repair, and some have come down to use for scrap. Your elementary teacher’s house is still here, getting a spiff-up treatment and you’re remembering Mrs. Erstine and her roses fondly when there’s a sharp whistle and call of your name.

Joel’s walking down the block toward you with an easy smile and you return it as he nears. It’s been a couple of weeks since the harvest dance and you haven’t seen each other much outside of family dinners and scattered evenings at Maria and Tommy’s’. Between the rush to get some of these homes fit for winter and you helping out with all the canning and preserving down at the mess hall, a twilight trio on the porch with Ellie here and there has been your scant means of together time.

“What’s brought you up this way? Everything okay?” He’s good enough to bend his neck a little so you can meet his patchy cheek in a kiss.

“Tommy forgot his lunch and Maria wants to spare him a trip.” You hold up the bag. “And I brought treats for you too.”

His finger hooks the bag, trying to peek in. “Really.”

“Nah ah, not until you take me to your leader.”

“My leader,” he scoffs, turning and leading you up the street. “Ain’t nothin’ he can do I don’t have to come up after him and fix.”

“Speaking of fixing, we could use new shingles at the Roost. It’s been wet and I’ve heard there’s a leak.”

“Yeah? When you going out next? I’ll go out with you.”

Turning onto a more wooded road, you both follow the sound of hammers. “Well, Goldie’s up there now and I usually take after her. I suppose I could go next week before the rains really start up.”

“Next week then.”

As you approach a beautiful A-frame home, Tommy’s over to one side at a couple of sawhorses, measuring out a beam. Joel calls out to his brother with the same whistle he gave you.

“It’ll be just you and me,” you say. “Ellie wants to stay home with Riley.”

Joel’s head whips around. “What?”

“Hey there, ma’am-o-jam, what brings you up here? Everything alright?” Just like his brother.

“Yeah, all’s well. You forgot your lunch and my legs needed a stretch.”

“Oh shit,” he grins. “I was just starting to get hungry. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You gesture to the house. “This is really beautiful. It’s like a bigger version of the Roost.”

“It’s nothin’ like the Roost. It’s on the ground.” Tommy smiles as you swat at him. “We’ve started with all the houses that need the least amount of help, tearing down the ones that need the most to fix ‘em up. This one had a lot of protection from the elements–the sun and the snow–from all these pines around it. All the windows still in place. Mostly just had to clear out a couple of overgrowths in the basement–probably the previous owners gone to seed. But it’s all good treated hardwood. Good bones. It’ll stand another century or two.”

A small, involuntary shiver passes through you at the casual mention of dead infected. “Did you burn them? The previous owners.”

Your reaction doesn't escape Joel’s notice. “Did it myself. There were a few in this section. It’s okay. They were long gone. Dry as a bone. It’s safe here.”

He’s earned a smile, even if it’s a sad one. “That’s good. They must have loved this house, to want to stay here, even when they didn’t know any better. Can’t blame ‘em. Anyway,” you go through your bag, lifting out a small parcel and handing the rest to Tommy, “here you go. But this is yours,” offering the parcel to Joel but then snatching it away as he reaches for it, “only if you promise to be honest and tell me if you like it or not.”

Joel’s eyes light up when he opens the package. “Holy shit; is that…pecan pie?”

And Tommy winks as he takes his lunch and walks back toward the house.

“Heard it was your favorite.” You can’t help but laugh at his big dumb grin. “Don’t be too excited! I obviously had to make every substitution. Walnuts for pecans, honey for sugar; it’s not exact, but it should be close enough. Been working on my bakes.”

Taking a bite, he shakes his head in what at first seems like pain but soon reveals itself to be the opposite. “Damn woman. And you only bring me one piece?”

“You’re a carpenter. That’s a triangle obviously cut out of a full circle. You know there’s more where that came from.” It’s a pleasure to watch him lose a battle against another big bite. “I take it you’re happy.”

His mouth full of sticky sweetness but the crow’s feet setting in, all he can do is chew and cock his head, looking you over as if to say, damn right I am.

_____

Joel’s quiet the whole ride to the Roost. It’s easy to guess what’s troubling him. A whole week alone should be exciting, but he’s worrying about expectations again and there hasn’t been much time to talk about it…or he just didn’t want to.

“Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

“Present.”

“Bringing a Grey Fox in at the north gate.”

“Noted. You brought your own sheets I hope.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Joel’s frown and straightened shoulders as he suddenly loses the sympathetic gait with his horse. “Yup. Both sets. For two beds. Man’s here to work on that roof and I’m only payin’ him in food.”

“Ooof. Poor Joel. He deserves better.”

“Yeah, well I’m working on it. Boiled water last night and I didn’t even burn it.”

The banter seems to have relaxed him back into the saddle sag for the time being, and you keep it up until Goldie has you in her sights.

“I know you like sleeping under the stars, Foxy, but it’s been cold and wet. Bed’s yours. I’ll take the top bunk.”

“Fine,” he grunts.

“And you’re not allowed to go up on the roof unless I’m around to spot you.”

“I can handle it.”

“Oh, I’m sure, but my nerves can’t. And this is my domain. I’m the boss out here.”

This gets you one half serving of smile with a side of eyeroll. “Yes ma’am.”

Once you’re settled in, Joel descends the ladder and starts going through the woodpile, looking for adequate repair material, taking up the axe to split some logs for shingles while you go take a cursory round through the meadows.

The sheep are mostly on the near side by the copse of trees housing the Roost, keeping a tight flock, settled down and facing into the wind. A few bleat as you arrive but none of them skitter, allowing you to pat a couple as they chew cud and to check any for painted marks in case Goldie found one of them sick or lame. Other than one small ram that wants to playfully butt you in the thigh, all seems well. The rest of the flock is mostly down by the river and you take a little time to make some noise and shoo them toward the others before circling back to the Roost….

…which is where you find Joel Miller up on the ladder prying at rotted shingles.

“What the hell did I say, Cinnamon Roll?”

“Hold your britches,” he calls down. “I’m just assessing.”

“How am I supposed to get up there and you got the ladder?”

“Oh now we have a quandary,” he jokes. “What are you gonna do if I don’t let you up?”

“You think I haven’t slept out with the sheep before? I’d have no issue with it but that it’s gonna rain, so maybe you should let me up so I can help and make that repair go faster.”

Coming down and moving the ladder to the balcony drop, he scans the sky with doubts. “What makes you think it’s gonna rain?”

“Because I read sheep.”

“You read sheep.”

“Yeah. They spell it out like a marching band. RAIN. Big letters. Cursive. Could you just–”

The ladder comes sliding down with a thunk and you climb, taking his helping hand as you reach the top.

He smirks. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

All you can do is shake your head and hide your grin. “Don’t you dare. I’m gonna get my gloves.”

As he starts to heft the ladder back up, you go inside and quickly grab a wool hat and a pair of deerhide gloves from your pack. Turning to go back out though, a glint catches your eye near the door.

There’s a new nail in the wall.

With a broken watch hanging from it.

Huh.

This must be the place where he feels like he can be free of it and of the past you gather it represents for him. A special spot for it by the door where he won’t forget it when he leaves, somewhere he can see it if he needs it, but not carry it so much.

It’s a nice piece but for the hole. Well cared for. 2:40. You realize with a little regret that you missed the anniversary, that Outbreak Day no longer registers. Which means you also didn’t–

He doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday, Tommy once said.

It had come and gone without much fuss. But also without any noticeable misery. Railroaded by a new nephew and hard work.

That’s good. He’s not forgetting, just letting it rest. Someday it will be a good day again.

“You gonna get out here and hold this thing or what? You’re the one said rain is coming.”

“Not me. It was the sheep. Hold your britches or get a better belt. I’m coming.”

_____

A gentle roll of thunder wakes you in the night and the Roost is dark as you listen for a moment to the rain pattering against the roof slanting up and over you, inches away. Tuning in, you train your ear for a hard patter, a splotch, any indication that the roof patch didn’t hold, but of course it has. It was mended by Joel Miller himself.

Well, at least it’s dry, but damn, it’s chilly. A glance toward the little iron stove shows you nothing but darkness, which means the fire’s out. As much as it hurts to leave the little nest of warmth you do have, it’s probably better to relight it and warm the place by morning, so down the bunk ladder you go, being as quiet as possible.

Somehow, it's always comforting waking up at night at the Roost. Your house in town is too quiet at night, too full of the possibility of unfamiliar ghosts--of those that lived there, of the society it held, of your own loneliness. At least out here you feel held by the trees and needed by the sheep. There are ghosts buried out there in the meadow, but they're long gone now, part of the land itself, land that was always wild and free and full of the kind of life that wasn't destroyed all at once in one day. Night at the Roost is a quiet comfort, a place of purpose and sisterhood and family. It's full of wooden and woolen things made by hands you know and is welcoming to everyone, including the moonlight and the stars.

It takes a little doing with the wind up and you have to manipulate the flue a bit, but after a few minutes there’s a lovely crackling and smell of pine. Padding over to the chair by the window to snatch the wool blanket there, you stop for a minute to look out at the storm, trying to catch a glimpse of the sheep in a flash of lightning, but there’s not much of that to be had, so you wrap the blanket around yourself and make your way back to the bunk ladder.

“Sheep okay out there?” Joel mumbles in the dimness from his bed, somewhere near your knee.

“They’re fine. Did I wake you up?”

“No. Been listening to the rain a while. You cold?”

“Yeah. Fire went out. You?”

His answer comes in the form of something like a sail in the darkness and it takes a second to realize that he’s holding his blankets open in an invitation. “Come on. You’re gonna let the heat out.”

Sliding into Joel’s warmth is an easy decision to make. And it’s not just the warmth of his sheets, but that he brings the covers around you, pulling you all the way into his chest against his soft old undershirt, tucking you in under his chin, wrapping you up in his whole, woodsmoke-scented self.

Every tension in you simply melts into bliss.

Resting his lips against your forehead, his breath fans gently at your hair. “I could get used to this.”

A long hum rides out on your exhale. “I think I already am.”

“You’re a good woman, you know that?”

“Spoken like a true Texan.”

A long kiss presses into your forehead. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’m gonna do my best to be good again, Songbird. Hope I can be what you want.”

“That’s easier than you imagine. You’ve been what I want since you showed up around here, so I’m already quite pleased. Hope I can be what you want.”

A new warmth takes you over as he starts to spread his hand along your back, simply running over your contours, testing out what it’s like to hold someone this way, slowly caressing, lightly squeezing, tucking you in tighter. “You seem to know what I want before I even do. I look forward to finding out what I want next.”

“Well, I have to admit. Your brother tipped me off about the pecan pie.”

He laughs a little as he tips your chin up to meet you in a kiss in the dark. It’s hesitant but hungry; a long time needed and a long time savored.

“Did your sheep say it was supposed to rain all day?”

His hair and beard ruffle softly under your fingertips. “I didn’t ask, but I think it probably will. Sure hope that new roof holds.”

“We could always just stay right here and keep an eye on it.”

“See? You know exactly what you want. We can do that. I’d say that’s a good day’s work.”

His hand splays big and warm on your back, pinning you close for another kiss. “I tend to agree.”

_____

PREVIOUS: SUMMER

NEXT: WINTER (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark #joel miller x mature reader

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lovingchrissposts · 2 months

Text

Our dirty little secret

Nates little sister x …sturniolo

Warnings: swearing, use of marijuana, use of y/n, mafia, drugs, kinda like refers to east side, ANGSTTT NOT PROOF READ SORRYY

A/N: i rlly liked this request and was so fun to write. I’m definitely gonna like make more parts but I’m just too lazy and this has been sitting in my drafts for like two weeks. Oopsiesss!! (The summary is terrible ik) the song has nothing do with this I just thought of it from the name of this

Summary: Nathans little sister y/n gets ‘introduced’ to two boys. Matthew and Christopher Sturniolo. Maybe reintroduced works better. They realize that she was an old co-worker of theirs and that theyre now on opposite teams so they can’t be friends. Nate and y/n are sent on a trip for 7 months to fulfill a girls requests and work. What will happen?

(Years ago)

“Y/N.” My older brother Nathan who goes by Nate screams up at me from the basement. I rip the blankets off of my legs and groan getting up.

“What?” I yell back from the top of the stairs my left foot hanging off getting ready to walk down. Nate peeks around the corner with his two friends Matt and Chris next to him.

“Yo, this is Matt.” Nate points at the boy standing on his left whos wearing the most innocent little boy outfit ever. Matt looks like he has brown curlyish hair that lays perfectly against his forehead and top of his head. His blue eyes are beaming through mine as Nate speaks again Matt shoots me a smile and nods gently.

“And, this is Chris.” Nate adds and i wave at him. I swear I think I stopped breathing for a second when I saw him. He was wearing gray sweatpants with a logo that looks like an F on the side and a white tank top with his nipples poking through the thin soft fabric. His hair is grown out to the sides and on his forehead.

“Hey,” I reply smiling trying to keep my cool to both of them. I look down at myself. I’m wearing the shittiest outfit ever and I let out a breath. “We are just gonna be in the back smoking some weed if you need anything.” Nate adds with a smile and his Nike slides slipping across the wooden floor as they exit through the back door.

The smell of weed fills my air as I’m sitting next to the three of them around a bonfire in my backyard. I’m absolutely fucking freezing even though we are around a fire.

I hear Nate laugh as they all remember funny stories from when they were younger. The taller boy with the over grown hair sits next to me drinking a beer instead of smoking the weed.

“Y/n?” Nate asks me making me snap my neck up to look at him. “Yeah?” I reply rubbing my arms slowly. “You okay you seem a little, spaced out?” He asks me curiously and i Shake my head. “Oh yeah haha sorry I was thinking about um..Kim.” I reply anxiously. Matt chuckles from beside me and puts his weed down.

“Whos Kim?” Matt asks licking his dry lips. “Oh my bestfriend from middle-“ I start to say as Nate’s phone rings from across the table. I look up and notice it’s our boss, Veno. His eyebrows raise and he stands up.

“Alright guys I’ll be right back I have to take this.” Nate mumbles and answers the phone walking inside. I’m now left alone with two guys I met about two hours ago but they seem..familiar..?

“Y/n, y/l/n.” Chris chuckles my name and looks at me with deaf eyes making my heart speed up a little bit. Shit.

“Y/l/n? It’s really you?” Matt says in shock.

“Uh. Yeah?” I reply awkwardly. And look at Matt and Chris. Chris slowly gets out of his chair setting his beer down. “Fuck. Really?” Chris whispers and I nod.

What. The. Fuck.

“You-Nate- huh?” Matt stutters out. “Nate is in the program?!” Once he says that I finally realize.

(Flash backs)

I just stepped into this guys office outside of post 89. I looked around. “Well hello, y/n.” Veno mumbled from his desk taking a sip of ‘coffee’

I stepped in again and my tan folders I had in my hands slipped and fell on the floor making all the papers go everywhere.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

Some guy with brown curly hair came up to me helping me pick up the files, after he helped me Veno made him and me sort the files again.

I could’ve sworn he hated me until he made conversation about who he was.

“Oh um by the way, I’m Christopher. Sturniolo. Chris for short.” He stated smiling at me nervously. I looked up at him and smiled back giving him my name.

We talked for about an hour while finishing sorting the files. Veno comes back in fixing his blazer and looks at the files. “Very well. Sturniolo, take Ms y/l/n around the warehouse for a quick tour.

So he did, we laughed, told stories, and became friends.

Nate and I’s family had moved across town making us go to different schools and I had to stop out of that program. Nate wasn’t in the same warehouse as me at the time so Chris and Matt didn’t know him till a few months ago when we visited for a family holiday.

“Shit, your Chris sturniolo?” I ask absolutely shocker that I’m seeing him again.

“Fuck, yes I am.” Chris replied and Matt let out a deep sigh. “We aren’t supposed to be friends with your brother, or you for that Matter.” Chris adds and him and Matt start to stand up gathering their weed and beers.

Fuck Nate is gonna kill me.

(Present time.)

Me and Nate had been assigned a trip to the Eastside for the program. We hadn’t been there in years and were really nervous.

This little ‘trip’ was us moving there for a few months (7) so we could fulfill this girl and get her on the program.

“Y/N!” Nate screamed at me and I knew he was packing the car to go so I quickly hurried my ass out of my room with my shoes on, jacket on, suitcase next to me, and backpack on along with a few boxes of furniture for our rental home.

“IM COMING.” I yell back and I rush down the stairs. I pull my suitcase out of the door locking it behind me. Over our driveway I pulled all my shit and shoved it in the trunk.

“Alright, alright, cmon.” Nate mumbled. It was around 4:30 in the morning and we had to be there by Noon. We stopped on the way to McDonald’s to get sweet teas, Pepsi, and coffees.

I was settled into the back until Veno called Nate telling him about what’s gonna happen over these 7 months.

What the fuck did I get myself into.

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

Text

Sickles, Snowflakes, & Sharks

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: When you find yourself in the hospital fretting over a friend, the last thing you expect is a chance at love. One handsome doctor, some shitty hospital coffee, sickles, snowflakes, and a shark is apparently all you need.

Warnings: Hospitals, Doctors, Mentioned injury to the arm, Mentions of blood

Word Count: 3712

Author Note: Hiya everyone! This is from a request submitted by @emma8895eb. They sent in a gorgeous picture set of Lewis Pullman from Lessons in Chemistry and requested an AU of Bob being a doctor. The gifs of the scene were indeed soft and fluffy, so of course, I had to write a soft and fluffy little fic to accompany them!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta-reading this fic for me!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You haven’t been in a hospital since you were very young. So, it figures your return is due to the fact one of your friends decided to be completely idiotic and stupid in the middle of the night. Who in the world thought it was a good idea to drink in the middle of a snowstorm in a barn?

It's a rhetorical question, of course. Only your friends, your roommates, would choose to do that. As if that wasn't stupid enough, they also decided to jump from the hayloft into the colossal pile of fragrant hay. One of them, Jake, because of course it was him, ended up impaling himself on a still sharp sickle. You were the only sober member of the party, so the consequences had been up to you to handle.

At least you managed to keep him from yanking the blade out of his forearm. You'd run out to the main house in the snow, swathed his arm in towels, and loaded him into your truck. The next step involved booking it to the hospital, of course, but that is easier said than done when it feels like an entire glacier was raining down over your head. The temperature on the dash was edging towards -15°F, and even with the heat blasting, you could hear Jake’s teeth chatter. Something told you he's going into shock. e His eyes were fever-bright, and he hadn't spoken in nearly twenty minutes. If you knew anything about Jake Seresin, the man couldn't shut up if he tried.

So your face is pinched, and it feels like you've got an elephant sitting on your chest when you roar into the Emergency Room drop-off loop with a squeal of brakes and rocket yourself out of the vehicle. You slam the driver's door shut and call for a couple of the nurses in scrubs nearby to help you get Jake out of the truck. Unsurprisingly, maneuvering Jake out of his seat, all six feet of him, is far harder than you think. Also unsurprising is how Jake is laid on a gurney and taken straight away to get some painkillers and X-rays done. Shortly after, while you're pacing the hallway outside the waiting room, a very nice ER Doctor comes out to tell you Jake needs surgery and is being carted away to the OR at that very moment. You can't help but feel a little like a marionette with its strings cut at the news.

When you slump, finally, into a hard-backed chair outside of a surgical suite, you're so tired you could cry. With adrenaline coursing through your system, your hands shake, and you're shivering, too. Of course, given your panic, you also completely forgot to grab a coat or gloves. So you’re sitting in the hospital with snow melting into your hair and soaking into the hem of your jeans. Your feet feel like ice, and you’re so worried you can’t sit still.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

You blink, and all of a sudden, someone is crouching in front of you. He’s wearing scrubs and a white doctor’s coat. There are wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his blue eyes seem to twinkle in the sterile lights.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft but warm.

When you look at your shaking hands, they are coated in rust, the color staining your skin in streaks.

“I, I don’t know.” Your voice sounds strangled as you choke the words out.

“Do you want to get cleaned up a little?” You nod, a little jerky bobble of your head up and down. His hands are warm as they cover yours, stalling the shivers as they pull you up.

“Truth be told,” He ducks in closer, murmuring into your ear in a way that should not be as sexy as it is, “I'm not supposed to be doing this.”

“But,” His voice makes sparks light up in your chest as he leads you into an elevator and up two floors. He keeps his hand hovering at the small of your back, close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin through your thin t-shirt. “What are the rules for if you can't break them every once in a while?”

The door he opens leads you to a locker room. You’re tongue-tied standing in such close quarters with this beautiful stranger. He turns, and the look of concentration on his face as he tugs out a spare set of scrubs takes your breath away.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you made a habit of doing this to unsuspecting girls covered in blood.”

“I, uh… I don't.”

“So why me? You don't even know my name. Nor do I know yours, for that matter.”

“Oh!” His laugh feels like champagne bubbles bursting across your tongue. “I’m Bob. Bob Floyd, I'm a trauma surgeon here at the hospital.”

“Well, Dr. Floyd.” You smile at the slight blush on the apples of his cheeks and introduce yourself. “You seem awfully familiar with breaking the rules for a man of your stature.”

“A man of my stature?”

“Yeah, sweet and kind. Bespectacled.”

“Bespectacled?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes crinkle with the force of his laugh as he tips his head back. A curl hangs over his forehead, and if your hands weren’t covered in blood you’d push it off his forehead for him.

“C’mon, silly girl. Get cleaned up. I’d love to continue this conversation when you don’t look like Carrie.”

Is it wrong to lay the moves on the hot trauma surgeon when one of your friends is in surgery? Your conscious mind is telling you it’s probably not the most moral of things to do. But the other part of you, the part routinely indulging in romances and squealing at the thought of a meet-cute, is begging you to hold onto the opportunity with both hands. You'd truly be stupid not to, you rationalize as you soap up your skin using the bottle of ginger and orange soap Doctor Bob gave you. It smells amazingly, mouth-wateringly delicious, and a part of you wonders if it smells as good on his skin as it does on yours. But you derail the thought before it goes any further and step out of the shower, shivering a little in the cold hospital air.

Goosebumps rise on your arms as you pull on the scrubs before bunching up your soiled clothes. What’s the likelihood Bob’s still out there? He’s probably gotten a call or something and needs to prep for surgery, right? There are probably a million better things he could be doing. You should return to the surgical suites and see if you can coax some information about Jake from a nice-looking nurse.

When you peek around the door, you're surprised to find Dr. Floyd is still there, arms crossed against the broad expanse of his chest, blue eyes narrowed in thought. Your eyes widen, taking in just how handsome this man is. With long legs, made even longer by the slim-fitting scrubs, muscular arms, broad chest, and slim waist, it feels like you're on a roller coaster ride because a flirty stranger shouldn't be this alluring. Of course, your favorite part of him has to be his eyes, navy blue and mercurial, the color seeming to shift depending on his mood and the atmosphere around him. They sparkle in the sterile lights when you step through the door, absolutely dwarfed by the scrubs on your body.

“Thank you for this, truly.” The words trip off your tongue in a futile attempt to stop the awkwardly shy way you've been staring at him.

“I was happy to.” Your breath catches as he steps forward, handing you soft, dark fabric. “Wear this, you look cold.”

Looking at the fine hairs rising on your arms and how your skin textures from the drafty, antiseptic-smelling breeze, it’s an offer you’re only too glad to accept from this sweet doctor.

“Would you, um…” When he drags his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, dislodging a curl that falls across his brow, you itch to push it back into place. “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather check on your friend.”

He’s babbling, and you feel bad as you toe at the pristine tile, murmuring, “I should probably check on Jake.”

It’s his turn to toe at the tile. A part of you is tickled to see he has a charm on his crocs in the shape of the blue shark from that Korean baby shark song.

“What would you say, sweetheart, if I told you I set it up so my colleagues would page me when your friend’s procedure is done?”

You’ve got bubbles crawling up your esophagus, popping blithely in your mind as you look up at this tall, broad man with the countenance of a puppy.

“I'd ask if the coffee in the cafeteria was any better than the cups dispensed out of the machine down the hall.”

“It's a little bit better than the machine, yeah.” There's something like a smile on his face as he looks down at you, blue eyes crinkling in joy.

“Then lead the way, Dr. Floyd.” Your cocked eyebrow and broad grin make him smile more, the curve of his lips growing as he tugs you in the other direction when you start walking the wrong way.

He makes you feel a little giddy as he walks you down to the cafeteria with his hand against the small of your back. When there are two cups of coffee in front of you, your confidence falls completely flat. It’s like you’re no longer sure what to say anymore. Dr. Floyd seems to be just as stymied for words as you are.

You sip on the bitter coffee because your hands are fidgeting and restless. He’s right about the coffee. It’s better than the machine coffee, but not by much. You fish for something to say because it’s awkward sitting in silence while staring at your coffee. If you’re not looking at your cup, you’re staring at your fingers, with nails clipped short and calloused with your work around the ranch. You can’t bring yourself to look your fill at Dr. Floyd, so you sneak looks at him as you fidget.

“So,” you smile, the gesture feeling awkward as your muscles contort. “How’d you get the baby shark charm on your Crocs, Dr. Floyd?”

He chuckles, eyes flashing behind his glasses as he sips his coffee.

“Would you believe it if I told you I’ve only been at this hospital for a few months now?”

You grin softly at him. It looks like he’s thinking about how to describe the shark charm best, brow furrowed and lips pursed. All you want is to know what’s going on in his head. So you’re content to sit in silence.

“My first rotation here was in the pediatric surgery ward. This adorable little girl was going in for open heart surgery. She was heart-breakingly beautiful, with the prettiest smile, despite how sick she was.”

“Is she okay now?” The words trip out of your mouth without your permission.

“Yeah, she’s perfect.” He’s smiling. “I kept her calm before she went under and greeted her when she woke up with a big stuffed shark from the toy store.” He grins conspiratorially at you. “They didn’t have any sharks in the hospital gift shop. She was so happy to see me that it nearly made me cry. She begged her mom and dad to get me a shark charm for my Crocs before she was released to go home. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

You’re smiling now in total, and when you shyly glance up at him, he’s smiling a smile that mirrors yours. “You sound like you love what you do, Doctor.”

“Call me Bob. Please.” He grins, and you shudder when you feel his feet tangle with yours beneath the plastic table. “Dr. Floyd is my dad. I still recoil and fight this urge to turn around to see if he’s behind me when I hear that name.”

“Bob, it is.” You giggle a little as you sip on your coffee. “So, you don’t swoop in like a knight in shining armor for any old catatonic girl covered in blood sitting in the waiting area?”

“I don’t.” He cards his fingers through his hair, “You’re special, believe it or not.”

You giggle a little uncomfortably. “How so?”

“You looked like you could use some help. It’s true what I said earlier. I rarely find pretty girls in the waiting room and show them places to get cleaned up. That seems to be something I only do for you.”

His smile fades a little then, brow furrowing again. If you were bolder you’d reach out to brush the wrinkled skin smooth again.

“You looked so lost. It’s weird because I didn’t even know your name.” When he says it, it feels like he’s tasting it on his tongue - and it looks like he likes your name in his mouth, too.

“I just wanted to make you smile and flirt a little bit, too.” When he lifts his eyes back up to meet yours, he’s smiling shyly. “So, is it working?”

You grin back and slide your hand out until you can take his hand. If anything, it stops his fidgeting.

“What’s the likelihood of a girl getting a nice piece of cake here?

“I hate to break it to you, Sugar, but we’re in a hospital. The only dessert we’ve got in Jello.”

“Sugar?”

He smiles. “Yeah, you’re sweet like sugar, especially when you smile at me like that. Give me a second. Let me see what I can get for you.”

When Bob stands up from the chair and strides over to the long counter, he gives you a little bit of room to breathe. It shouldn’t be this easy to fall for a man you barely know. There’s a reason why you were goofing around with your friends in an abandoned barn in the middle of a snowstorm, after all. You don’t have a lot of time for fun anymore.

You haven’t since inheriting the ranch from your great-aunt three years ago. There just hadn’t been enough time. In between getting the ranch running again and taking care of all of the animals, you’ve barely been sleeping. There was always something you needed to take care of, whether it was patrolling around the herds to make sure the coyotes hadn’t gotten them or spending hours going over the accounts to make sure there was enough money for food and medicine - for the humans and the animals.

The first calving season had brought you Jake and Natasha in the middle of a rainstorm. They’d originally stayed just to help with a breech calf, and you’d asked them to stay permanently when you saw how the herd responded to Jake’s soft Texan burr and how at home Natasha had been on horseback under the cornflower blue sky, the wind teasing her hair out from its ponytail. Since then, it’s been the three of you and more animals than each of you know how to handle.

You don’t know for sure, but sometimes you think there’s something between your two friends. It’s easy to notice when you spend most of your day only with the two of them or with the animals on the farm. Maybe you should have let Nat drive Jake to the hospital. But with Betsie foaling soon and Nat one of the only people she trusted, you had no choice. You fumble for your phone, digging it out of your bag, and make sure you haven’t missed any calls or messages from your friend.

Betsie’s in labor. I’ve called Doc McCoy. I don’t know if he’ll make it out to the ranch in time, but don’t worry. You take care of Jake. I’ve got Betsie. Let me know when he’s okay.

She sounds angry or maybe stressed; her words sound clipped even over the phone. Either you’ll have to do a lot of groveling or plan to get her some time alone with Jake.

“Is everything okay?”

Your smile feels like it’s disappeared into thin air - like you couldn’t find it if you tried. Your light, easy demeanor is gone, and the burdens of your day-to-day life are back. But you still try to curve your lips up in Bob’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah.” You accept the plate of jiggling multi-colored Jello from him. “One of our mares is foaling back on the ranch. When it rains, it pours, I guess.”

“Is everything alright? Do you need to run back there?”

You poke lacklusterly at the jiggling sweet as you ponder how to respond to his earnest query. “No. Nat’s the only person the mare in question, Betsie, trusts.”

He blinks gently at you before nudging the Jello closer. “C’mon. You’ll feel better if you eat something.” His tone is quietly wheedling, and his blue eyes sear into you as you scoop a bite of the jiggling sweet into your mouth.

For several moments, it’s quiet. You can taste the artificial fruit as the Jello melts on your tongue. Inexplicably, it calms you as the sugar hits your stomach and dissipates the shadows brought on by stress.

“How long have you had the ranch?” Bob’s gently warm voice feels like being wrapped in blankets.

It feels like you’re wrapped in a dream, you and this handsome doctor, as you let the story spill into the quiet midnight atmosphere. There’s nobody else in the cafeteria with you, and it feels like there’s nobody else in the world. Maybe you shouldn’t share your struggles, things you haven’t told another soul, with a man you’ve only just met. But the stories spill off your tongue sweetly.

“The ranch is beautiful on winter mornings,” your voice is quiet as you intermittently sip your coffee. “It almost feels like a completely different universe.”

“What’s your favorite part of those winter mornings?”

Before you can respond, his phone rings. In an instant, it’s like the man you’ve been talking to for so long is a completely different person. His face shutters, his smiling mouth going flat as he listens to the voice spilling down the line. He hums and nods, all those little noises people make when they’re listening, spilling out in his rich, lush voice. You find yourself liking this side of Bob too - the doctor side.

When he hangs up the call and stands up, you scramble to join him in collecting the mugs of long-cold coffee and empty plates.

“Your friend, Jake?” Your head snaps up so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “He’s coming out of surgery now. They’re moving him into one of the Post-Anesthesia Care Units. My colleagues on the surgical team say he’s going to be fine. He’ll have to stay at the hospital for another couple of days. He’ll also have to be careful of his arm and not lift anything heavy for the next little while. But he’s going to heal up perfectly.”

You nearly crumple with relief as you follow Bob to the recovery rooms and take your spot next to Jake. The first thing you do when you see Jake again is text Natasha. Between phone calls with Natasha and talking to Jake’s doctors, you lose sight of Bob. As the days pass in trips between the ranch and the hospital, in talking to Natasha, in crying when you see your best friend finally open his eyes when the anesthesia wears away, you’re not sure you’ll ever see Dr. Floyd again.

Was he just a figment of your imagination in the dark hours of night?

You’re signing the last discharge forms two days later when you finally see him again.

“Hey.” He looks sheepish, a small grin curling the corners of his mouth up as he tries valiantly to ignore Jake and Natasha, bickering off to the side.

“Hey.”

“They’re discharging him today, huh?”

You grin at him. “Yeah. I’m glad he’s alright.”

“W-would you maybe want to have coffee sometime, again? Or maybe dinner?” Your heart stutters in its steady beat as you process the words. There’s something like hope growing in your chest before reality rears its ugly head.

“I’d love to. But with the ranch, I’m not sure how feasible it would be to drive an hour into town to have coffee.”

The light in his beautiful blue eyes dims. “Oh.”

“Maybe I can come down to the ranch, then?”

You smile and nod. Jake and Natasha have stopped talking in the background, which means they’ve noticed your conversation with this all too handsome doctor who is wholly out of your league.

“I’d love that.”

“Here,” He hands you his phone. “Put your number in, Sugar.”

When you hand the phone back with clammy palms, he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace. You think you can feel the brush of his lips across your forehead.

You’ve got a giddy smile on your face all the way home. Nat and Jake are anything but silent, taking turns asking you what happened in the hospital the night you tore into the Emergency Room drop off. Nat’s a little bolder than Jake is, asking,“So, who’s the cute doctor?” as soon as you’re on the road.

You barely manage to avoid their insistent attempts at wheedling the story out of you until you’ve gotten Jake settled into his room with Nat fluttering about fussing over him. You pull your phone out again in the confines of your bedroom, far away from prying eyes and people who know you too well and can read your every facial expression. There’s a message waiting for you.

Hey, this is Bob. I’d love to come by the ranch when I’m free. Just let me know, Sugar. Hopefully, the winter view you told me about is better than my dreams. I think it will be because it’s got you in it. You have to give me my sweater and scrubs back anyway, doll. So I’ll see you soon.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #bob imagine #robert bob floyd imagin #robert floyd imagine

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yungkiszka · 1 year

Text

|Pedro Pascal| NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they are like after sex)

Pedro takes good care of your after sex, whether it was a rough session or not. He makes sure you are cleaned up, have water and all that. Then he’ll hold you close and fall right asleep.

B= Body Part (favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Pedro can be insecure, he thinks because he’s older that he’s not as attractive. But he loves his hands and arms, he knows you love them and he loves wrapping his big hands around your neck.

He’s definitely an ass guy, whether it’s small or big he doesn’t care. He loves slapping your ass, cumming on it, biting it and everything.

He’s also a big fan of eyes. He loves eye contact and staring at your beautiful eyes.

C= Cum (literally anything to do with cum)

As much as he loves cumming in you, watching you with your mouth wide open, tongue out, gets him going.

“Let me see that pretty mouth baby, gonna cum.”

He says as your on your knees in front of him, him holding your chin up letting his cum spill into your mouth.

D= Dirty Secret (little dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to watch you get yourself off in front of him. Or even just masturbating together without touching each other at all.

“Sit there and make yourself cum for me, baby.”

“ ‘atta girl, love watching you get yourself off for daddy.”

E= Experience (how experienced are they?)

He’s very experienced, you are also experienced but he’s definitely thought you a thing or two. Experimenting with you and discovering what you like or don’t like.

F= Favorite Position (their favorite position/positions)

Doggie is definitely a top favorite of his. He likes to grab your hair, choke you from behind and leave marks on your ass.

Missionary is also a big favorite of his. He loves eye contact so much! He knows eye contact makes you nervous and makes you look deep into his eyes, holding your face and pounding into you.

Cowgirl! He loves holding your hands behind you and pounding up into you, your ass slapping on his thighs.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, ect.)

He’s pretty serious, unless he’s drunk. You guys will share a little laugh but get right back into it.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they down there)

He’s got a little bit of hair down there but it’s well groomed!

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect,ect.)

Super intimate and romantic. He will make you cum no matter what, whether you deserve it or not ,eventually he’ll make you cum.

J= Jack Off ( masturbation headcanon)

You’re sat on your bed, hands and legs tied up. Pedro sat on a chair right near the bed, pumping his cock slowly.

“Please let me touch you Pedro.”

“And why do you think you deserve that? After being such a slut today, you think you deserve this?”

He says as he spits down on his cock, antagonizing you.

He jerks off faster and deep groans come out of his mouth.

“Fuck, only if this was your sweet, little mouth wrapped around my cock, huh?”

He says staring right into your eyes, you try looking away but he gets up and lifts your face up, pumping his cock faster right in front of you.

“Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Being called daddy or sir!

“You gonna cum for me sweet girl?”

“Yes, daddy. Please”

or just being in control, having your hands cuffed behind your back and making you cum over and over. He loves overstimulating you.

Breeding kink, for sure! He’ll finish anywhere but loves to cum inside you.

L= Location (favorite place to have sex)

He really doesn’t have a preference, he will fuck you anywhere! He does like the privacy of your own home but will bend you over wherever, whenever.

M= Motivation ( what turns them on/ gets them going)

Sexting! He’s big into dirty text messages from you. Since he’s always so busy, a little dirty text or some nudes gets him going!

N= NO (something they won’t do/ turn offs)

He’s down to try anything, but will never make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skil,ect)

50/50 he loves eating you out, you taste like heaven to him.

But he also loves throat fucking you, coming home and making you get on your knees for him.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Ect)

He definitely does both, just depends on the mood.

When he’s slow and sensual he whispers sweet nothing to you and caresses you so softly.

“You’re so beautiful baby, wanna make you cum. Can you do that for me?” He says as one hand is caressing your cheek, the other rubbing circles on your clit.

When he’s in a rough mood he’s ROUGH, calling you filthy names, degrading you, hard smacks to your ass, hair pulling, you name it.

“You’re gonna be quite and take it like the good little slut you are,” he says shoving your head down into the pillow and your ass up in the air, “ fucking take it baby, there ya go.” He says as he lends a hard slap to your ass and a whimper comes out if you.

Q= Quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often, ect)

He is allll for quickies. As much as he loves taking his time with you, he’s down for a quickie at any point in time.

In the car, in the bathroom of a club, before interviews..

R= Risk ( are they down to experiment? do they take risks,ect)

He loves to try new things and loves being risky.

Touches under the table at a busy restaurant, seeing your face turn red and the biggest smirk on his face.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last)

Mans can go a solid 3-4 times a day. For his age it’s very surprising but he will never get enough of pleasing you. Even if he can’t finish, he loves to see you cum.

T= Toys (do they own sex toys? Do they use them on themself? On their partner?)

You both have quite a selection of sex toys. Mostly things like cuffs, rope, whips, blindfolds, you name it. When you’re feeling more dominant you’ll use the cuffs on him.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he looovveess teasing you, anywhere and anytime. He loves hearing you beg and whine for him, you’re putty in his hands.

V= Volume (how loud do they get?)

the GROANS that come out of him are UNHOLY. He’s super verbal and his groans are deep and drive you up the wall.

W= Wild Card ( just a random headcanon)

Pedro loves seeing you get off by riding his thigh. After a day of him teasing you, soaking through your panties.

“Go ahead, ride daddy’s thigh like a good girl.”

He says guiding your hips back and fourth slowly as you two make out.

X= X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Definelty like 7” and it’s girthyyyy

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

For a man his age his sex drive is still pretty damn high. Especially when he’s away from you for a while and comes back, he makes sure to show you how much he’s missed you.

Z= Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep after?)

Once he he’s cuddled up next to you , man’s out. Spooning you and sound asleep.

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine

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doubletalkingmaeve · 8 months

Text

Jason Newsted sfw alphabet

Needed to get this out of my system so I can sleep peacefully again

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s extremely affectionate and he’s not scared about showing it in public. He’ll hold your hand, have his arm around you, you name it and he’s doing it. He shows affection in a lot of ways but his main language is just being around you. Since he’s touring the world every other day, he likes to spend every second he can with you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Jason would be that one friend that you take everywhere because he’s so easy to talk to and can just read the room clearly. He’s very supportive and I’d see him as the friend who comes round and helps you fix something at your house. The friendship would start either because he knew you since he was young, you were a friend-of-a-friend or he just met you on the road.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves a cuddle!!!! You’re in his arms at every given opportunity. If you’re sitting together, he’d have his arm around the back of the chair you’re sat on. He’s hugging you from behind, arms around your waist if you’re sat on him, like I said before he’s a very affectionate person. After a tough day though, he’s got his head in the crook of your neck and cuddling you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning)

He wants to settle down and he plans to, things are just a little more awkward because of the whole “band” thing. He tries his best to make the balance work and he’s not always perfect with it. He’s a lot better at cleaning than he is cooking. The food he makes is edible but if you want to actually taste something… maybe he better take a step back.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Jase is not a shy person by any means, if he’s grown to be comfortable with you, but unfortunately it’s not working out, he’d tell you in person. He’d call you over for a chat at his and maybe prewarn you over the phone. He’d probably sugarcoat things a tiny bit and I see him as someone who’d blame himself if things went wrong (even if it obviously wasn’t)

F = Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Now, it’s obviously quite known that he isn’t exactly the most loyal man in the world but I feel like when he knows he’s found the one, he’s behaving himself. I feel like he’d wait at least a year and a half to two years before he proposes, and even then the wedding would be a couple months after that. He loves the idea of being a family and marriage is important to him.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Jason is extremely gentle. He’s one of the most patient and supportive people out there. He treats you like a gentleman and would never even dare to be caught dead talking bad about you, let alone treating you bad. He leaves soft kisses on you and is always there to listen. Doesn’t matter what the subject is, he wants you to come to him and share your problems.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

BIGGEST HUG LOVER IN THE ROOM!!! He’s constantly needy, he with smother you with hugs, especially when it’s just the two of you. His hugs are warm and tight but just the right amount. He’s always got either both arms around your waist or one there and the other over your shoulders. He could spend hours just cuddling and hugging you and that’s not an exaggeration.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I feel like after a couple weeks, but it all depends on the situation with you two. It might accidentally come out of his mouth and he just runs with it, but after a couple dates and when he feels the time is right, he’ll say it. After that, he’s always dropping it and will remind you everyday if he has to.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s not an overly jealous person, but jealousy is a normal emotion and everyone feels it some point. He doesn’t get jealous when you’re busy talking and hanging out with other men. The only expectation is when someone gets too touchy with you or says something out of line that be doesn’t like, only then does he get wound up. When Jason does get jealous though he goes deadly silent. The bubbly personality is gone and he’s fully tense. His body language and the death glares he gives speak for themselves.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses start of soft and nice. He likes to be gentle at first and if things are going well he’ll be the one to deepen the kiss. Jason doesn’t force anything on you, he can tell by the way your body reacts and he goes with it. He likes to kiss every single inch of you, but his favourite parts are your lips (of course) and your forehead. When it comes to him, I don’t think he’d every admit it unless you ask, but he has a soft spot for kisses on the side of his neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I mean this man is a literal child at heart so he fits right in. He’s likes to be the fun uncle and he takes that position very seriously. Him being more relaxed ultimately means you got the short straw and are now dubbed the strict one. He’s the type of person to completely spoil them even if he doesn’t realise it and whatever they want, they get. He’d gladly babysit if he’s asked to, he’d just be a great person to be around.

M = Morning (How are morning spent with them?)

I don’t see him as the worlds best morning person but I do see him as someone who is easily confused as soon as they wake up. Years of touring has left him with the “what country is this? what time? what--” questions. When he’s half awake he’s always patting his hand on your side of the bed to see if you’re still there which ends with him cuddling you to death or a sulking Jason. He’s always the one to get up and put the coffee on, but if the two of you are in no rush, then it’s cuddle time.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Once again, it depends, but even when it’s a night on tour or back in your home, expect to be served all the attention you could possibly want. The nights you’re on tour you normally have Jase talking about how good the last show was and how he’s excited for the next one. After finishing both of your night routines, you climb into bed and Jase is there with his arms wide open. You talk til you fall asleep. When you’re at home, you watch a movie or just browse the TV together until one of you gets tired. It’s roughly the same, with most nights ending up with neither of you getting sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think if you were friends/best friends before the two of you started dating than he’d be a lot more open to you early on. He’d tell you more personal things and how he feels about that. If you met in any other way I think he’d still be open but it might take two or three dates to get it out of him. Like I said before, he’s not a relatively shy person, he’s just private but if he’s comfortable around you, he’d be more open!

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s relatively patient. He’s just like anyone else with some things/people pissing him off more than others but he handles things well. He doesn’t immediately run his mouth, although he will easily tell you or anybody when he disagrees with something. He just gets quiet and bottles things inside of him until he feels it’s the right time to say it (which is extremely bad!!!)

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s extremely observant and whatever you say to him sticks in his head somehow. Whether you said you liked your eggs a certain way or that your great-great-grandmother’s cousin’s son’s neighbour’s dog was born in France, he’s got it memorised. Sometimes if he’s a little bit tired he might forget certain things but he’s relatively good. Important dates stick to him, he’s got your work schedule memorised. He’s just invested in your life.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

The first time the two of you met and the more banter-y conversations you have. Inside jokes makes him so happy and he’s fully prepared to tease you for years to come if you said something wrong. The first concert the two of you went to, the first time you got drunk, the first kiss, etc.. He’d also remember your reactions to when you all travel to new places that he might’ve already been to but it’s a first for you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Jason makes sure to keep his personal life far away as possible from the public. He’s known to be quite a private guy and will do everything he can to make sure that you are kept safe. He’ll talk about you briefly in interviews but won’t go into details, unless you’re comfortable with it but even then he probably won’t. If you’re going into an area that’s crowded with fans, he’ll walk closely in front of you to shield you from the cameras. For him, it would be the same thing but the other way around. You keeping his secrets private, things he says etc. I also feel like he’d appreciate you standing up for him. If someone is treating him like shit and you call them out, it would make him feel more protected.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in so much effort!!! Whether it’s a birthday or anniversary he’s always putting in so much thought about what to get you and how to make you feel special. Whenever he’s away for shows and you’re not there, he’s always bringing you back small gifts he bought that made him think of you. He just wants to make you happy. When he knows you’ve had a long day at work and he’s home, he’s getting the house ready for you and running all the errands that you’ve been behind with.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He always forgets to check the answering machine when he’s home. If he’s accidentally missed a call or let it right to a voicemail, he’s always got a “I’ll just get back to it later” attitude and he never does!!! If it’s something important he’s answering it in seconds but when it’s anyone else, he’s too lazy.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don’t think he’s overly concerned with looks, more about what’s comfortable for him. Sure he likes to look nice but once he’s home he choose his comfiest clothes over anything, even if it looms ridiculous. When it comes to being in public/events, he’s more dressed up to keep up with that ‘metalhead’ image (😌). Of course he wants to look good for you so maybe he’ll put in a little bit of effort. Like most of these, it really does depend but generally speaking, he doesn’t care that much

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Every day that he doesn’t see you feels like it’s dragging on forever. Even though you can talk on the phone if you needed to, that doesn’t make up for you being physically there with him. He hates being away from you and tries to drag you on tour as much as he physically can. If you were to ever leave him, it would take a toll on him greatly. He’s used to putting all his energy into you and now you’re not around he feels bored and empty.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Whenever he gets home and he’s trying to get back in the momento and the swing of things, he always leaves you notes on the fridge. When he’s catching up on sleep and you’re off to work early. He’ll write a note the night before for you to read when you make your way to the fridge. It’s always either about how he’s proud of you and how you’re gonna do amazing, something he forgot to mention the other day or just plans he’s thinking of making with you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I feel like with him he wouldn’t like someone who was too overly authoritative with him and what he does. There’s a good thing with being assertive, being able to have the confidence to do what you want to do and being able to back it up, it’s something that he’s attracted to. The problem lies when they try to dictate their beliefs and feelings onto him, and this is with everyone not just a partner. For the more physical side of it, I think having a partner who doesn’t want to do anything in general might not be the best for him. Sure having a lazy day is good (especially after a tour) but he gets bored easily and always has to have something to do.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He is a VERY heavy sleeper when he’s finally sleeping in a proper bed and not some random seat on any transportation. He doesn’t really snore that much but he nearly take up half the bed. He’s either sleeping hugging the pillow or you, whichever one is closer. Once he’s fallen asleep he’s out, there’s no way in hell you can wake him up without the military getting involved. Jason normally falls asleep first, he stays up late but he’s always fatigued. Sometimes he finds it hard to sleep because of his neck so you might have to sacrifice a pillow or two.

#cried writing this because I need him so badly #like no one else gets it #‘I get it’ no you don’t you don’t understand #metallica #jason newsted #Jason newsted headcanons #Jason newsted x reader #Jason newsted imagines #Jason newsted fanfic #Metallica headcanons #Metallica x reader #Metallica imagines #Metallica fanfic #sfw headcanons

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jobean12-blog · 7 months

Text

Temptations

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 1,854

Summary: Javi's always busy with work and despite his warnings you can't stay away...you miss him too much.

Author's Note: This is for my Kinktober and one of my favorite kinks- choking...the focus is mostly on the absolute sexiness of this man and his hands in general because clearly I can't stop myself! This is also my first time writing for Javi and I want to thank my sweet love @flordeamatista ❤️❤️for checking it over and making sure I stayed true to the character. Thank you all so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: sassy and flirty reader, Javi is a bit d-om-ish and pos-sess-iv-e, o-ra-l, f-in-g-er-in-g, ma-s-tu-r-ba-tio-n, softness too, a c-u-rs-e or three, light c-ho-k-in-g, c-o-c-k w-ar-m-in-g

Kinktober Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist (Pedro)

“Javi.”

He looks up from his drink, continuing to twirl the small glass between his fingers.

“Someone here to see you,” Steve says, giving nothing away.

“Who?” Javi asks, his eyes narrowing.

Steve just raises his eyebrows and cocks his head before walking off, leaving Javi’s office door open.

Javi mutters a curse under his breath before he lifts the drink to his lips and finishes it in one quick sip. He almost chokes on it a second later when you push the door open and saunter in.

“Surprised to see me?” you ask demurely as you slowly shut the door and lock it.

“Angel,” he growls out in warning. “What are you doing here?”

You feign a pout and toy with the tie of your jacket. “Aren’t you happy?”

He abruptly stands from his desk, his chair flying backward and banging into the wall.

You barely have time to react before he’s standing over you, one long finger pointed in your face and his eyes dark.

“I thought I told you not to come here.”

You stand your ground, raising your chin ever so slightly and meeting his gaze. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

You meant it to come out more powerfully, a strong statement, but instead it’s whiny and petulant.

“It’s not safe,” Javi says as he steps closer. “You know what I’m dealing with.”

You reach up to grab the ends of his loose tie, teasingly pulling on the fabric to bring him even closer.

“I made sure no one saw me,” you explain. “Even parked the car far away.”

He stares at you, unmoving, and you close the distance between you, pressing your body to his.

“What do you want?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips even as they twitch to touch you.

“You.”

“Angel.”

You hold his stare in challenge but he doesn’t relent and steps back to put some distance between you.

“Fine,” you huff. “I’ll leave.”

You turn on your heel and start for the door but before you grab the doorknob he has you in his arms, pressed back to the door with his knee between your legs.

A smile starts to curl your lips and he takes your chin between his fingers.

“You never listen, do you.”

It’s not a question, just a simple statement of the truth and your smile grows.

“And you work too hard,” you state, batting your lashes.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk as he dips his head, brushing his nose along your throat.

“Since you’re here…” he murmurs.

He drags himself away, leaving you panting against the door.

“Take your coat off. Get comfortable.”

With that he turns toward his desk and falls back into the chair.

You stay plastered to the door, carefully sliding the ties of your coat between your fingers.

“Javi,” you sing. “I didn’t come here to watch you work.”

He looks up just as you pull the ties free, the sides of the coat falling open to reveal your mostly bare skin.

“Fuck,” he growls, letting his eyes sweep over you. “You’ve been walking around the office like that this whole time?”

You wave a dismissive hand and shrug the jacket from your shoulders, casually throwing it over the file cabinet.

“Fuck,” he repeats as he gets an unobstructed view of your lingerie set.

“You said that already,” you tease, not moving from the door.

With a wide spread of his legs he leans back in the chair and crooks his finger at you.

Each step you take is slow and calculated, the sway of your hips enticing in every way. You can already see the tightness in his pants and when you reach him and sit on the edge of the desk, you let your eyes drop between his legs.

The pen in his hand creaks under the pressure of his grip as you wait, dragging your gaze up his chest to meet his eyes.

He leans forward, invading your space and reaches up to trace his fingers over the fluttering pulse in your neck. You tilt your head, granting him better access and he smooths his fingers lower, tracing your collarbone.

Goosebumps rise against his touch and you let out a soft sigh.

His hands slide lower, along the swell of your breasts, then he grabs your legs, forcing them to spread open, knees laid back against the edge of his desk.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” he says as he stands, slowly sliding his loose tie from his neck.

Your breath hitches but you remain still.

With careful movements he takes each of your wrists in his hand and pulls your arms behind your back, settling your hands just above your ass. You feel him wrap his tie around your wrists and secure it tightly.

When he meets your eyes again he raises a questioning brow. You know he’s checking to make sure you’re comfortable but you can’t resist sassing him anyway.

“Sure you don’t want to use your cuffs?”

He sits back onto the chair with a muttered curse then leans in, inhaling against the skin of your thigh before nuzzling his nose along the silk between your legs.

“This pretty pussy of yours is all I want…to eat, to fuck, to own.”

You moan out his name and your hips roll.

“And when I tell you to do something…,” he whispers, knowing you’re desperate for his mouth, “I expect you to listen.”

He runs his thumb over the flimsy fabric, relishing in the slickness as your panties grow wetter.

“Javi,” you whine. “Stop teasing.”

“You think I should give you what you want?�� he asks, his soft kisses along your inner thighs making them shake.

“You just said my pussy is all you want…”

Your cheekiness makes his eyes flash with intense heat and he rips your panties down your legs, leaving them hanging off one heeled foot. He kisses his way back up your leg, nibbling your thigh and drawing a groan of impatience from your throat.

His hot breath blows over your pussy and you rock your hips in a desperate attempt for more.

He teases you still, his feather light kisses just out of reach.

“Please,” you cry out, even as your expression is one of pained frustration.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

“Please Javi,” you moan.

His tongue licks a long line through your folds and he immediately closes his lips around your clit, fluttering his tongue over and over.

“Yes Javi, just like that,” you say with a breathy exhale.

He savors all he can before sliding two fingers inside you and watching as you take them, the evidence of how much you love it glistening on his skin.

“So perfect Angel.”

You beg for more and he slides his free hand up to cup the base of your neck, putting enough pressure to let you know you’re his in every way. Your eyes squeeze shut and you choke out his name.

As his tongue works over your clit and he applies just the right amount of pressure to your throat, your walls start to swell and clench around his fingers.

He pulls away and presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing gently until you open your eyes to look at him.

“Tell me Angel. Who do you belong to? Tell me as you come all over my fingers.”

You whisper, your voice nearly raw from your pleading cries. “You…I belong to you Javi.”

He presses his lips to your clit once more and your back arches hard, your breath catching as shudders take over your muscles and your pussy tightens around his fingers.

With softening strokes and lazy kisses he draws out your pleasure and tenderly squeezes your throat.

“Then you better not forget it.”

Stay just like that,” he commands as he withdraws his fingers and stands.

He starts to unbuckle his belt, the leather hanging open as he begins to work on his pants. When his cock is free he swipes his fingers through your soaked pussy, gathering your orgasm and rubbing the sticky slickness along his length.

His free hand finds your throat again and he holds you in place, forced to watch and nothing more.

You struggle against the binds on your wrists, needing to be free as your eyes track his every move.

“Javi. Please. Let me touch you.”

His large hand moves up and down his cock in smooth strokes, pumping hard and fast, the tip bumping your clit and edging you toward overstimulation. Every time you flinch from the touch his smirk grows and his grip on your neck tightens.

“No touching. Not yet,” he rasps.

His thighs shake, tight with impending release. “I’m going to mark you Angel.”

“That’s so hot,” you whimper. “Come on me Javi.”

Your teeth are digging so hard into your bottom lip it’s painful and with three more strokes he grunts, his cum splashing across your pussy and lower stomach.

Spent, he releases your neck as he folds over you, kissing your lips and freeing your wrists. He looks between your bodies, taking in the sight of you covered in his release.

“Fuck Angel, you look perfect.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you dip your finger into the puddle then lift it to your lips, sliding it into your mouth and moaning at the flavor. His cock spasms at the sight before he meets your gaze, his expression sated but still full of burning heat.

Taking some tissues he quickly cleans you up before he sits back in his chair and pats his thigh. You slide off the desk into his arms.

“Aren’t you happy I came to visit?” you whisper into his neck.

He gives you a satisfied hum and wraps you up, gently running his fingers along your throat before his lips find yours again. His kiss is delicate and slow and your hands brush along his chest until you find the open collar of his shirt, dipping your fingers inside to touch his warm skin.

Your hands move higher, over his shoulders to caress his neck and face and you brush the hair from his sweaty forehead before scraping your fingers over his scalp. He murmurs your name, kissing you harder when you shift in his lap and straddle his waist.

“Angel,” he growls as he starts to harden beneath you. “Are you planning on distracting me from work for the rest of the day?”

You smile against his mouth with a roll of your hips, placing soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck, teasing any inch of his skin you can find.

And without an answer you reach between your bodies and take him in your hand, guiding him slowly inside you.

“FUCK,” he hisses, pulsing and throbbing and stretching you out so good.

His fingers dig into your skin before his hands wander over your body, caressing every curve.

“I won’t stop you from working Javi,” you hum as you get comfortable and lay your head along his shoulder, kissing just below his ear. “Go right ahead.”

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @lorilane33 @pedritosdarling

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #Javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #javier pena narcos #javier pena imagine #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos

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enha-sua · 10 months

Text

(🔴) ... [ NOW PLAYING ] [ENGENE-MADE] A-Z WITH SUA !

( a is for... ) at this point *tsk* i don't even know man , it's just at this point really

( b is for... ) boynextdoor *winks* listen to their song , it's a good song to skip down the street and disassociate from life.

( c is for... ) crab? jay i am allergic to crab , are you trying to take me out of this earth , what's your beef with me.

( d is for... ) don't you value the air , you like life right , then unhand my phone jake.

( e is for... ) *falls out of chair , gets up like nothing happened* "eh , i've had worse happened to me before."

( f is for... ) forget it , im getting the shoes , will deal with the consequences later.

( g is for... ) goddammit *looks at the staff* who said that *she's alone*

( h is for... ) have you seen my fake nail , im gonna try and glue it back on , i gotta get my moneys worth.

( i is for... ) i could've been a neurosurgeon had i not taken the idol role... think about that , i could've been holding a knife as a job *everyone is silently praying*

( j is for... ) *jungwon asking her to translate* jungwon my love , i am not the right person for this job , i can barely speak korean.

( k is for... ) karma is the best song on the album *check the comments* why are you guys booing me in the comments.

( l is for... ) love triangles bring me so much stress *literally sitting in between heeseung and sunghoon the biggest love triangle in kpop*

( m is for... ) maybe i am the problem... yeah it's definitely me.

( n is for... ) no , i simply don't want to do it , and you can't make.

( o is for... ) *randomly when it's quite* ooooh eeee like karma-a-a

( p is for... ) *screams at the top of her lungs* PARK SUNGHOON *sunghoon is scared* "can you get that"

( q is for... ) quite , im looking for my airpod and i can't think.

( r is for... ) *ni-ki talking while she's driving* ri-ki i will crash this car if i don't focus , calm down.

( s is for... ) so what you're saying is that you hate me , wow after all we've been through *all heeseung said was no*

( t is for... ) take my photo sunghoon *gets photo back* did you take it with a refrigerator, this is terrible.

( u is for... ) uhhh im not sure if i can answer that without legal liability.

( v is for... ) vote for me best enhypen member.

( w is for... ) what the hell *everyone is shock* what , i didn't say nothing

( x is for... ) xoxo <3 *thinks for a second* somi baby please come back i miss you

( y is for... ) *reads a mean comment* you hate my voice?? i mean you can turn off the live , im the one who has to live with it so.

( z is for... ) zero intellectual thoughts in there , just marbles and vibes.

©️ENHA-SUA

#꒰..🪷꒱ sua : content ⊹꒪#kpop added member #kpop reactions #enhypen 8th member #kpop addition #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #enhypen added member #enhypen reactions #kpop female member #enhypen female addition #enhypen female member #8th member of enhypen #enhypen addition #fictional idol addition #fictional idol oc #fictional idol community #fictional kpop idol

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emberfrostlovesloki · 6 months

Text

A for Effort [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Google) (Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@archaic-stranger)

Prompt: A meet-cute of how Aaron met the non-BAU reader at Penelope’s theater improv group show. And how Aaron accompanies the reader to host her Halloween extra-credit horror movie watch and discussion for her students.

Pairing: Hotch x fem presenting reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

Category: Angst/fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.2K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (unsub drugs and beats teenagers, Hotch takes a beating, awkwardness, mention of being cheated on (reader’s boyfriend cheats on her with a best friend), mention of separation, light drinking, unwanted touch (a guy is handsy with the reader), vomit is mentioned (in the context of the film The Exorcist), religious themes, mention of intimacy (sexual touch over the clothes) If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: This one is just me having fun. I did give my students extra credit where we watched a horror movie and discussed the elements of the film. I couldn’t help but picture Aaron there with me, so I wrote this. I teach English but I’ve made this story that there could be a plethora of subjects. I really like the meet-cute element of this story. It was fun to write. If you like this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Below I have included some cultural definitions for my international readers. If you’re from the States, especially the South and you know what dance halls and cotilion are, then feel free to skip this. I just want to make sure my readers feel included. Please know I am not good at line dancing or swing dancing - I do ballet to this is not my personal dance style. Lastly, before I sign off, you can vote for the next Aaron story you want from me at this post (linked). I hope you have a great night - Love Levi

Definitions

Dance Hall: An enclosed space with a dance floor, a stage for live music, and a bar (normally). The space is pretty age-inclusive and most music is country. Couples and singles come and often mix and match partners. Some people go to show off their skills here. The dances are normally line dances or swing dancing which relies a lot on improv. The lighting is normally dimmed, though not as much as at a nightclub.

Cotillion: Essentially manners class. These can be after school or on the weekends. It’s associated with the debutant circle and court.

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/l/g/s_ = your local grocery store

_y/e/c_ = your eye color.

_y/f/a(s)/s_ = your favorite art (or science) subject - aka English, film, art, psychology, etc.

_y/u_ = your university

_y/s’s/d’s/b_ = your subject’s department’s building

Aaron sat down in the second to last folding chair with a very small grunt. The sound was so quiet that Spencer, who was on his right side, didn’t even notice that he had made it. The last case had seen Hotch tracking down a stalker who was preying on teenage girls, drugging and beating them severely before dumping their bodies on the steps of their parent's houses to be found the next morning. Aaron had experienced the strength of the forty-seven-year-old unsub as they had sprinted down an alleyway. The team had gotten to the fifth victim just in time. With Rossi, Spencer, and Emily taking care of the teen, Aaron and Morgan gave chase on foot. When both met a crossroads, each took a path. Aaron took the sidewalk to the left. Using all of his strength, Hotch had been able to catch up to the unsub. When they reached a dead end, the power balance changed. The unsub, Kevin Leery, realized his only means of escape was fighting his way out. The man quickly turned before Aaron, who was now pretty winded from all the running, could pull his sidearm. Hotch had been victorious, though, by the state of his aching body, he might not say so. Rossi had called the paramedics for him. The medics assured Rossi and the team, more than himself, that he would be fine in a few days. That there were no broken bones, just some bruised ribs, and a pretty battered left hand. Aaron’s attention shifted as there seemed to be movement behind the small curtain that was waiting to be raised. Hotch was glad for this distraction. He needed his mind on other things than his body. When Garcia had taken up improv as a hobby, the whole team was on board. Especially Morgan. Derek, at least twice a week would say, “Now Babygirl, when do we get to see a performance?” Penelope would blush and say, “When we’re ready. You can’t rush talent, and the whole troupe is still getting everyone else's vibe.” Aaron would give a small smile that he tried to hide when he overheard these conversations. Improv felt like the perfect art for his technical analyst. When the first performance was announced, Garcia printed fliers and invited the whole team to come and watch the show and then grab dinner afterward. Everyone had joyfully agreed. Aaron had marked the date on his personal calendar over a month out. He ensured that Jack could be at Hailey’s that day. The anticipation grew as the one-night performance loomed. Garcia had said a few things about breaking the fourth wall and audience participation. Hotch was sure that whoever was picked wouldn’t be him. Garcia knew him too well to let that happen. Part of him wanted whoever was making that choice pick to Derek. He thought it would be fun to see his friend on stage attempting to play an act. And Aaron knew that Morgan was easy-going enough to play along with whatever the group had him do.

Aaron’s thoughts were pulled from the curtain and any movement that may or may not be going on behind it as someone tapped his shoulder and asked, “Sorry is this seat taken?” Hotch’s eyes snapped to the woman who was standing in the small aisle of the tiny theater the improv group had rented out for the evening. Aaron’s gaze looked into the inquisitive face of the stranger, and he said, “Yes, I mean no, No it’s not. Feel free to sit here. Sorry.” Hotch wasn’t sure why he was being stuttery all of a sudden. Most of it was probably because the woman who was now settling into the chair very close to his was incredibly beautiful. However, what Hotch told himself was that this mystery woman was holding flowers and he wasn’t. Hotch stopped himself from face-palming. He had forgotten to bring flowers for Penelope. He would profusely apologize after and then pay whatever amount he needed to get a florist to drop off an arraignment when he got back home. The woman next to him with some trepidation given his recent slip. She made one final shift, as she set her purse and the flowers on the ground in front of her and pulled out the program for the two-act play. While doing this, she inadvertently brushed her thigh up against his. Aaron felt a rush through his body at the contact. Very quietly the woman said, “Sorry.” Hotch looked over, and she was looking at him as if she was making sure he was alright for the unintended contact. Hotch gave a small nod and said, “Don’t worry about it.” After the contact, the person sitting next to him seemed to be the only thing he could focus on. She had pulled her legs and body tight into the chair, to not touch him again. The light scent of her perfume washed over him with her body heat. They were just an inch or two apart, and Hotch couldn’t help but observe her as she flipped through the program with an interest. To not seem weird or be caught staring, Aaron looked to his right at the team. If Spencer had noticed his odd behavior, the boy-wonder wasn’t letting on. But when Hotch’s eyes moved one chair over, Rossi looked at him with eyebrows raised. This time Aaron couldn't stifle the sigh that he let out at seeing Dave’s expression. His best friend on the team was always on to him about lighting up. About living a little. Aaron always rebuffed these comments. He thought he lived plenty -- and nearly died in the field more than that. All of these conversations, stated or unstated, had started a respectful time after Hailey had left him. Hotch was sure Rossi, and the whole team had seen that his marriage had been crumbling as much as he did. Maybe they saw it before he did. If they had, they didn’t say anything about it apart from Dave, and one very kind comment from Emily. Prentiss had asked him one day late in the office, “Are you alright, Aaron?” It was a hypothetical question, and he replied, “I think I am. Thank you for asking, Em.” They had left it at that. Aaron still thought about that comment sometimes. There was a small movement from the companion to his left like they had heard his sigh and stilled their movements because of it. Aaron willed himself to not look back at the woman. Thankfully the lights dimmed and the curtain raised.

The play was about a man who worked at an office and was slowly losing his mind. The program said the idea was loosely based on the short story, “Bartleby the Scrivener” by Melville. Garcia played the perky secretary who was always badgering the lead about this private life. The play was funny. The dynamic between the actors was natural as they riffed off each other and the confines of the small narrative being built between them. As the first act ramped to conflict with the lead, a youthful-looking man with a mustache broke the fourth wall and said, “But Maddison," which was Penelope’s character’s name, "there’s something I haven’t told you. I have a fiance! And they’re in the room with us” The small crowd in the room all took an intake of breath at the revelation. Suddenly everyone in the small assembled crowd looked at each other. Penelope said, “Well get her up here this instant! I’ve got to meet her. She must be mental if she’s in love with you.” There was a second that with bated horror, that Aaron thought the lead was going to point at him. But the man’s pointer finger pointed at the woman sitting next to him. All eyes turned to her. Aaron could see her deflate a tiny bit. As the man on stage said, “Come up here, beloved. Come and meet the source of my madness.” The woman got up and as she moved toward the stage, he guessed that the protagonist hadn’t informed her beforehand that this would be happening. In the back of his mind, Aaron thought, “What a dick move.” The man helped the woman up onto the stage. She was wearing a skirt, and she was more careful that she didn’t flash anyone as she was hoisted up on the stage than the man helping her upward. At seeing this, something small in Aaron twitched up comfortably. When the woman was on stage, Penelope rushed forward and hugged the woman. Aaron could see that Pen had also seen what he had. Hotch could see in Garcia’s embrace both an act and a real gesture of comfort. Garcia pulled back and asked, “So, you’re cooped up with this old bat all hours of the day and night? How are you coping with that?” There was a tense silence while the audience waited for the woman to respond. The lead moved toward the woman, and his right hand found purchase on her lower back. The woman seemed to lean into the touch. Aaron immediately assumed that the two were a couple. It would make sense if the mustache man had picked her. The silence persisted. It lay heavy over the crowd. It became awkward as the woman looked at the man and the audience. Her eyes shone with anxiety. Finally, the man said, “Have nothing to say about me, darling?” At this, finally, the woman said, looking directly, intently at the man, “Oh sweetness, I could go on and on, and on about you. I just don’t think your friend would like what I have to say.” As soon as that line was uttered, the curtain fell, signaling the short intermission.

The crowd cheered and applauded as the cast and the woman were veiled. Aaron could hear Emily and JJ, and Derek and Rossi’s conversations about the show so far. They sounded so happy. As Hotch offered a comment to Spencer about the intricacies of Melville’s writing and how it related to the performance, he couldn’t help but think how the woman, when giving her one line had been acting as well. But some small part of her tone had indicated that it wasn’t all an act. That fact gnawed at Aaron like a dog on a bone. The intermission was short, only about fifteen minutes long. As the minutes ticked by, Hotch waited for the woman to return to her seat. After what felt like an eternally long ten minutes, she reappeared and moved down the row to her seat. Hotch offered her a hand as she steeped with high heels around her purse, program, and flowers to take her seat. Aaron looked at her closely as she sat. It was clear to Aaron that she was less joyful than she had been before the show had started. The woman’s makeup was smudged a bit, and he wondered if she had been crying during the brief break. When she was seated, Hotch removed his hand and the woman, very quietly said, ‘Thank you.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Of course.” The man had mentioned engagement on stage, and he couldn’t help himself from looking for a ring on her left hand. He found none. His wedding ring sat heavy in a box on his bedside table, reminding him of his personal shortcomings. For one tiny moment, his heart ached for his woman. Whatever it was she was going through. Aaron rarely allowed himself to have these extraneous emotions, but in the here and now, he couldn’t seem to stop them. The repetition of the lights dimming and the curtain raising once more stopped any further thoughts on the matter. The second half of the play was as funny as the first as the lead slowly lost his sanity and refused to leave the office, even under the direct order of his boss. Subliminally, Aaron felt called out at that element of the storyline. When the play ended there was thunderous applause and a standing ovation was given to the cast. Everyone slowly filtered out of the room and Hotch noticed as the woman moved to the front of the stage and kissed the lead on the mouth, handing her flowers over to him. Aaron turned his head away at the moment of intimacy between the couple. Something about what had happened during the play didn’t sit right with him, but who was he to comment on relationships?

At the dinner after the show, Pen was showered with the praise she deserved. When things had quieted down, Aaron had over-apologized about not bringing flowers, and Garcia had wholly forgiven him. He asked in a more subdued voice, “So the lead, Richard, he chose who in the audience got called up on stage?” Hotch tried to sound nonchalant but wasn’t sure if he was being convincing. Garcia didn’t seem to notice, and replied, “Yeah. He called his girlfriend, obviously. I’ve had a few conversations with _y/n_ before and after rehearsals. She’s really sweet, and too good for Rich if I’m being honest. I don’t think she appreciated being called out like that.” Aaron nodded as a few more pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. The night wound down, and Hotch managed to get some flowers to Penelope around midnight. It might have cost him $83.75, but it was worth it to get Pen’s text, with a picture attached of the bouquet thanking him profusely. Pen included every flower emoji available in the message. As Aaron got ready to sleep, his thoughts shifted to the woman. He thought back to Garcia’s comments and remembered her name: _y/n_. As he drifted into sleep, he hoped that she was alright. She was happy.

Neither _y/n_or Aaron expected to see the other ever again. But they did a month later. Hotch was doing his weekly grocery shopping at _y/l/g/s_. The person in front of him in line for the check-out had a scant four items on the conveyor belt. The items were a bottle of wine, some strawberries, a bar of 75% dark chocolate, and a dozen pink roses. Hotch sighed softly and thought, ‘At least someone’s having a good time tonight.’ As the woman who looked oddly familiar to him got to the cashier, they rifled through her purse to find their credit card. She softly said, “Shit.” The cashier told her her total of $25.47. The woman said, “I’m sorry I forgot my wallet in my office. Please just put everything back. Sorry for the inconvenience.” At hearing the woman speak, Aaron recognized the voice of the woman who had sat next to him at Penelope’s performance. The woman seemed to be ready to leave, but Aaron stopped her and said, “I’ve got it.” The woman looked over at him and recognized him immediately. _y/n_, “Oh, No. You don’t have to do that.” Hotch gave her a reassuring smile and replied, “Really, it’s no problem.” He added, “You did very good while onstage by the way. You handled it with grace.” The woman flushed. She said a soft, “Thanks.” After a second, she extended her hand and said, “y/n_, _l/n_.” Aaron took her hand and replied, “Aaron, Hotchner.” _y/n_’s palm was warm in his hand. Lost in the moment, and the woman’s eyes. Hotch asked, “Date night?” At hearing this, _y/n_ seemed to cringe a little bit, and he wondered what he had said wrong. From the small assortment of things _y/n_ was attempting to buy, date night seemed to check out. Date night with Rich, as Pen had said last month. Hotch stopped from sighing at the idea. The woman replied a beat later, “It’s a pity party, actually.” Hearing this, Aaron’s eyes furrowed. _y/n_ quickly clarified, “Let me reframe that in a more positive light. I am taking myself on a date.” There was an awkward silence after that statement and a more awkward cough from the cashier. Aaron stepped up and pulled his card from his wallet in the back left pocket of his jeans. Once he had paid for _y/n_’s groceries, the cashier started scanning his items. The young employee had started to put his groceries in the same bag as _y/n_’s items. Aaron thought about saying something, but he stopped himself. The young man working the till seemed flustered, and he didn’t want to add to the man’s distress. It would be okay if he paid for both groceries and their groceries, and then he could separate _y/n_’s items from his own. _y/n_ stood nearby, tentatively. Once Aaron had paid for his things he grabbed another plastic bag. He shifted through his own items to find _y/n_’s. As he put the four products into the new bag, he had to ask, “‘Pity party?’” Hotch missed the large flush and look of shame on _y/n_’s face as she said candidly, “My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend.. Rich. He kinda cheated on me with my best friend. It’s a whole thing.” Hotch couldn’t help himself from cringing at her honesty. At how painful that must have been for _y/n_. All that Aaron’s brain could supply was a soft, “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.” _y/n_ shrugged her shoulders and said, “I mean, all of my friends and colleagues know. I don’t know why it would be much worse with you in the loop too. Plus you bought me my stuff and I appreciate that.” Aaron flushed again saying, “It’s really nothing given the circumstances.” He held his tongue after that. He had already said too much. Hotch couldn’t figure out where his brain went when he was near _y/n_, but it wasn’t his normal calm and composed self, that’s for sure.

Aaron let _y/n_ go to her car to not hold her up from her ‘date night.’ The recesses of Hotch’s brain wished he could get in the car with _y/n_ and join her in whatever activities she had planned for herself that evening. Hotch reprimanded himself for the thought. _y/n_ had just experienced a real pain, a hurt to the soul, and here he was longing after her like a puppy looking for some attention. For a pat on the back. Using more effort than he wished he had to, Aaron let the moment, the feelings for _y/n_ go. He had to for his well-being. He was certain that it was just fate that he and _y/n_ had bumped into each other twice. As Aaron drove back to his place and unloaded his groceries into his fridge, he found the receipt from the store. The four items from _y/n_ stood out at the top of the waxy paper. Again, he let all of those emotions, which he refused to address, go. Aaron fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and then took off his pants, as he moved into his bedroom. He decided to take a shower to clear his thoughts. Maybe to get another kind of relief that he had been missing since Hailey’s departure. Under the cascade of warm water, Aaron let go with his body and, as he began to dry his form with a warm towel, he cleansed his mind of impure thoughts. He wanted to sleep with an empty mind. One that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As he drifted off, Hotch hoped _y/n_ had also found some kind of release that night.

Another month and a half passed before they had their third meeting. It had been the worst team bonding training of all time. The presenter had cheery slides and made high-school-level references to trust and honesty between team members and cohorts. JJ, Rossi, and Morgan had all looked at him with clear disbelief at what they were being subjected to in the hour-long training. When the presenter mentioned something about a trust fall, Aaron almost lost his cool. He could deal with many things, the long hours, the gore he saw weekly, the stress of leading the team, and his eyestrain, but he drew the line at being forced to endure this. He looked over his team with eyebrows drawn taught. When he looked at Garcia she was laughing unabashedly. The presenter was looking at Penelope unsure of himself. Aaron shot Garcia a look that said, “Please, stop now,” even though he wanted to join in on the hilarity of the situation. Once the team had been released from the presenter’s lecture, Hotch gathered the team and said, “Well I promise you all, that…” He gesticulated with his hands, demonstrating, that training, “will never happen again. If you want some real team bonding let's go to that dance hall Emily keeps trying to get us to go to tonight.” Hearing this Prentiss flushed, but she had been saying that it was a really good time and it was. Emily had had a few great evenings at the new dance hall. After a moment of silence, Rossi said, “Here, here. I for one need a stiff drink after whatever that was.” The whole team seemed to relax after this. At eight-thirty, the team arrived at the venue. The space was large and the lot was full for a Tuesday evening. Everyone had changed except Aaron, who had come straight from the office. He had ditched his jacket in the trunk of his car. His suggestion had been an attempt to take Rossi’s advice to lighten up. As soon as he entered the crowded space, he realized that he had miscalculated. Everyone on the floor, those seated at the benches and tables on the sidelines, and those getting drinks at the bar were dressed very casually. His slacks and loafers didn’t belong here. As a way to deflect from making him the odd man out, Aaron offered to get the first round of drinks. As he got the orders from the team, he moved to the bar, and some of the BAU members, Emily, JJ, and Morgan, found partners and moved to the wooden dance floor. With a slew of drinks in tow. Hotch moved back to his friends and colleagues. Rossi, Penelope, and Spencer took a few sips, as they watched the dancers move to the country music. Aaron knew that this was mostly a Southern culture thing, but he understood that dancing was a universal pleasure, even if he wasn’t particularly good at it. His mother had signed him up for cotillion classes in high school and he reluctantly went every week for a month. His mom had wanted him to grow up the perfect gentleman, and even though he maybe hadn’t picked up all the dance moves, he thought he succeeded pretty well at the rest of it.

As the songs changed there seemed to be some excitement at the center of the floor. A couple was dancing with skill and the other dancers gave them room to improvise their steps and tricks. It was showing off for showing off’s sake. As Aaron looked over the pair on the floor he recognized the woman as _y/n_ from the play and the store. His eyes widened and Hotch looked at Penelope who was also watching _y/n_ with rapt wonder. Aaron turned his eyes back to the floor and the woman was pushed, pulled, dipped, and raised in a multitude of ways and speeds. As _y/n_ was raised in the air, supported by strong arms on her hips, a few cheers came from the crowd and fellow dancers. The woman even waved her hand in acknowledgment of the praise. Uplifted and in the spinning lights, she looked so happy, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Unlike her time on stage, she looked like she belonged up there, floating on air. Hotch felt himself flush all over and he looked away for a second. Rossi watched Aaron’s reaction with more than a little interest. After the song was over there was a small bit of applause at the skill put on display for the crowd. The talented man that had been dancing with _y/n_ kissed her on the cheek chastely. From what Aaron could see, the two were just friends or maybe dance partners, but not much more. Of course, he couldn’t hear what _y/n_ said to him, but as she turned toward Hotch’s group, there were no signs of arousal in her face or body, just unabated joy. Aaron hadn’t seen her this happy before, and he flushed again. Aaron internally told himself to ‘get a grip.' _y/n_ walked toward their table, not noticing them yet.

As she got closer Penelope called out for her saying, “Hey _y/n_, what a surprise to see you here!” The woman looked up and spotted Garcia and beamed. _y/n_ quickly moved over to the huddle of FBI agents and said, “Heya, Pen. What are you doing here?” _y/n_ looked over Rossi, Spencer, and then at Hotch. Her eyes grew a bit wider at seeing him and she said, “And you…” It took her a moment to remember Aaron’s name. When it came to her, she continued, “Aaron.” _y/n_ looked between Garcia and Hotch and asked, “Y’all know each other?” Penelope, ever the enthusiastic conversationalist said, “We all work together. This is my team.” Garica pointed to each of them saying their names. Spencer smiled at _y/n_ when his name was mentioned and Rossi shook her hand warmly. As Aaron’s name came up, _y/n_ gave a soft smile and she said, “It’s nice to see you again, Aaron.” He swallowed and said, “It’s nice to see you too.” And it was nice. To see her so radiant made him feel good. _y/n_, Garcia, and Rossi talked a bit about her dancing abilities and she seemed to shy away from her talent. Garcia couldn’t help herself and asked, “Did you ever take Richard here?” Hotch froze for a moment, unsure if Garcia was aware of the breakup. _y/n_’s soft snort made him feel better as she said, “Are you kidding me? He refused to come because I was better than him at dancing and other people wanted to interact with me. All four pairs of eyes were on her as _y/n_ shared some of her personal life with them. For a team of highly skilled profilers, having someone be so open was a bit strange. Penelope helped cut the feeling and said, “Of course he wouldn’t. The man really needs to get over his own ego. He complained about you and whined for a mouth at least during practice. He still talks about it. Honestly, he’s pathetic.” Garcia saying this had _y/n_ laughing and replied, “Tell me about it. I wished I’d seen it sooner, but c’est la vie I guess.” Penelope nodded along, and after a moment _y/n_ said, “Well I’m going to grab a drink at the bar, but I’ll swing by later if you’re still around. It was nice to see some of you again, and to meet you, Dr. Reid and Dave.” The team all said some form of “see you later,” as she moved away from them. As she passed Hotch, he gave her one of his rare smiles, or more like she had drawn the smile from him. Again Rossi noticed.

Three songs later _y/n_ was back on the dance floor with a much less skilled dancer. The man had his hands all over _y/n_ after the first minute of music and _y/n_ was constantly moving his hands up, or stopping them from moving lower. She had said twice and to “cut it out” but the man was not listening to her. Hotch and Rossi watched as it happened. Both men felt uncomfortable with what was happening. After another minute, _y/n_ pulled back and away from the man, telling him off. Her face was set in a more sour look as she moved to the sidelines and away from her temporary partner. The man sought to follow her, but Hotch was out of his seat as he watched the situation unfold before him. Rossi breathed a sigh of relief as his friend did this because he was about to do the same and he felt that _y/n_ might be a bit more comfortable with Aaron than himself. Hotch cut the man off from moving any closer to _y/n_ and said with a clear, firm, and determined voice, “Out. Now.” The man didn’t argue and Aaron wasn’t sure if it was his fancy dress or the look on his face, but either way, the man left. Hotch followed him with a searing glare until he left the establishment. Once the guy was gone, he turned to _y/n_ she looked at him with half awe half admiration. He couldn’t pinpoint the second emotion, but it wasn’t negative and that’s what mattered to him. He took two steps closer, getting close to her. He leaned down a bit and asked, “_y/n_, are you alright?” When he looked at her this closely he could see a warmth in her _y/e/c_ eyes. She nodded and said, “I’ll be fine. Unfortunately, that kind of behavior can be par for the course here. Asking total strangers for a dance means not all of them are fantastic people.” Hotch nodded, saying, “Well it still doesn’t make it right.” _y/n_ felt her breath hitch a bit as he said this. He said it with sincerity like he really meant it. _y/n_ had seen plenty of guys try to defend her honor or other cliches like that just to go and disrespect her themselves. She didn’t sense that at all in the tall man standing in front of her. _y/n_ was also impressed with his commanding presence. It had only taken two words to make the man flee the scene. Two. Words. She wondered what else he could do with his voice alone. _y/n_ flushed and looked to the floor for a second. The fact didn’t pass Aaron by. After a second, _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “Can I pay you back for your help with a drink or a dance? I haven’t seen you out on the floor yet. I’d be happy to partner with you if you like?” Hotch shifted a little, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He didn’t feel like another drink. He normally stuck to one or two, and he’d already had a second beer. He wanted to dance with _y/n_ but his two left feet didn’t seem too convinced that he could cut it with someone as skilled as _y/n_. _y/n_ could see his hesitation and said, “I can lead if you like. We can do just real easy steps.” Aaron looked at her and saw that she wouldn’t be embarrassed with him. She genuinely wanted to be with him like that. Hotch flushed again, more lightly this time, and he said, “Alright, I’ll do my best to not trip over my own feet.” _y/n_ chuckled as they took his hand and led him to a quieter part of the floor. A bit away from the team, which Hotch was grateful for; though he was sure the team was probably watching him. He didn’t blame them, he’d watch too if he could.

The dance went well. _y/n_ turned out to be a skilled instructor for him. He did try very hard to follow the steps and let _y/n_ improv off his lacking moves. At one point _y/n_ even let him do a little spin, which was very awkward given how much taller he was than her. He had to let go of her hand to make the 360-degree rotation. They had both laughed good-naturedly at how silly it was. When he was being treated like this, Aaron didn’t mind not having control. After another song, the music took a sudden change from country and swing to slow sensual music. _y/n_ let his hands go and took a step back. Aaron looked around, not sure why there had been such a dramatic change. People were slow dancing now and he looked to _y/n_ for clarity. _y/n_ gave him a gentle smile and said, “The last hour is always slow music so those who don’t like swing dancing or line dancing get a turn. I think it’s nice. Inclusive in a way. Aaron nodded and said, “Oh.” He stood still for a moment. He looked to the ground for an instant wondering how he was going to ask if she wanted to continue to dance. Because he did want to keep dancing with her. When he looked up, she was looking at him. _y/n_ was biting down lightly on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t see that her pupils were blown wide with desire. Her fingers were tapping against her leg lightly. _y/n_ wanted Aaron’s hands back in hers. Or behind her back while her arms rested on his shoulders. She wanted to be inexplicably close to him at that moment. Hotch didn’t say anything, didn’t need to say anything as he bridged the gap between them. His hands found purchase on her hips and _y/n_’s hand moved up to his shoulders. His hands glided over his chest softly. Aaron closed his eyes, and they both moved on instinct. With what was comfortable for them. _y/n_ melted into his touch, and his large hands gently landed on her body. They were warm and held her firmly like he was afraid that she might slip away if he let go. _y/n_ would be happy to reassure him that she would likely follow him to the ends of the earth even though she had only met him three times before. Aaron’s cologne smelled of rye and spruce, but it wasn’t the overpowering stuff teens and insecure men used with a heavy hand. This was refined. Elevated. It took a lot of what she had in her to not rest her head on his chest and take a deep breath. After two more songs, Aaron looked down at her and she seemed so at peace with him holding her close. And for the first time in a very long time, he leaped before he looked, as he leaned down further. He was slow, giving _y/n_ time to stop him, but she didn’t. Instead, she tipped her head up to meet his lips. The kiss was soft, respectful of how new and potentially strange this was, but neither could deny that the feeling was blissful. Hotch didn’t even care that JJ, Garcia, and Emily all had their mouths open in pure shock at his actions.

_y/n_ and Aaron’s relationship moved at a normal pace. As much as they had both been drawn to each other the night they had first kissed, both parties wanted to give the other space. To make sure things were comfortable and natural. _y/n_ wasn’t the type to commit to anything without fulling thinking and feeling it out. Aaron was the same for obvious reasons. But they had found a love and care between them, along with a passion that _y/n_ and Hotch had pretty much expected given the events the night at the dance hall. They both learned about each other, their jobs, and the intricacies of their lives. And after all that _y/n_ still wanted him, and Aaron was amazed at how nice it was to have someone steady to lean on. To care for while he wasn’t working. Someone had loved him back as intensely. As it turned out _y/n_ lectured _y/f/a(s)/s_ at _y/u_. And because of this, he was driving toward the university campus in _y/n_’s car with her in the passenger seat. They were chatting about his day in the office. Aaron was recounting some stories of Reid’s and _y/n_ listened with rapt attention. Hotch was being careful with his driving as it was near the college, which meant freshman with cars they hardly needed, and those partying a little too hard on Halloween night. They got onto campus proper and _y/n_ directed him to the parking lot. He had asked her if she wanted to take his car and she had reminded him that she had the faculty sticker on her windshield and he didn’t. She teased, “I don’t even think your FBI ID would persuade parking services. They are relentless in their mission.” Hotch had laughed at this and she warmed at hearing it. Aaron’s laugh sounded like a river running over smooth stones to her. It was gentle and mellow. Once they had parked, the pair moved to the _y/s’s/d’s/b_. The doors were still open given that some grad classes were still being held.

Three weeks ago Aaron had asked her if she was doing anything on Halloween and if she wanted to spend the evening with him. As _y/n_ listened to his question, she sighed and said, “I’m holding an extra credit opportunity for my students. We’re watching The Exorcist and then discussing it, but being with you sounds so nice. You could sit with me while we watch it and then hang out at my place after? That is if you don’t have Jack of course. Let’s not terrorize him so early on.” Hotch let out a breathy laugh and said, “Jack’s going to be with Hailey at some school trunk or treat event and he’s staying at her place to sleep off the sugar high. You’d let me sit in with you? In front of your students?” _y/n_ let out a little breath. She hadn’t expected him to say yes. She replied quickly, happily, “Of course I would! I mean most of my students know I have a partner, they might as well see you. And you can tell off students trying to canoodle while Regan gets possessed as have my eyes tightly shut.” Hotch chuckled and said, “Well I’ll leave the disciplining up to you, but I’m happy to be moral support and to calm your fear.” So they made the plans now they were walking the mostly empty hallways and up to the third floor. _y/n_ beeped into the faculty work room to print out the sign-in sheet and a guide for the most scary parts of the film for those who were like her; a scardey cat. As she moved into the small space and logged in to the computer, Aaron leaned against the door frame, filling the space. As the copies printed, she looked up at him and said, “I wish you’d follow me around all the time when I work. You could be a ghost haunting me.” Aaron smiled and said, “If I followed you around you’d soon learn that I’d fail your class. And we can’t have that, now can we?” The copies finished and _y/n_ grabbed them saying, “I’ve seen your writing, Aaron you are more than competent.” Hotch moved out of the way and his hand found hers as they moved to the lecture hall. _y/n_ had reserved the space because she expected a good turnout, the screen was large, and the audio system was reliable. _y/n_ asked Hotch to prop open the door with a chair. While he did this, she moved to the technology at the front of the room to the left of the lectern. _y/n_ signed into her Amazon and pulled up the film, checking the audio levels and turning on the closed captions for those who might need them. Aaron moved to _y/n_ and offered to take her purse for her. She smiled and nodded and he moved to the back of the room. He sat down near the center of the row. He called out across the space, “This good?” _y/n_ nodded and said back in a clear voice that carried in the space, “Perfect sweetheart.”

_y/n_ continued to stand at the front of the room and after another minute or so some students started to ramble in. _y/n_ instructed them to sign in on the sheet near the door. Many of the students had brought friends, roommates, boyfriends, or girlfriends along for moral support, or to laugh at the scary bits. _y/n_ had some casual conversations with some of the students and Aaron watched on with admiration. It was clear to him that _y/n_ had a connection with these young adults trying to figure life out for the first time. A few of the students noticed Aaron sitting at the back of the room, but none of them said anything to him or sat near him. It finally hit 7:30 p.m., and _y/n_ said, “Alright everyone, thanks for coming out. Let’s get going with the movie so you can all go out to the square or you’re older friends’s parties I’m not going to hear about on Thursday. Remember we’re paying attention so we can answer questions after.” Hearing this, the kids let out some laughs and chuckles. _y/n_ nearly forgot about the guides and said quickly, “Does anyone want a sheet with timestamps for the scares? Any other wimps out there like me?” There was silence and _y/n_ laughed at herself and said, “Alright guys, but don’t blame me when you have bad dreams tonight.” With that, _y/n_ started the film and moved to the door. She removed the chair and switched off the lights so the only light remaining was the two glowing exit signs on either side of the room. _y/n_ moved back to him and took a seat on his left side. It was dark and they were in the back, so she slipped her hand into his He gave it a gentle squeeze. True to her word, _y/n_ did close her eyes during some of the more difficult points of the movie. Now and then there would be some quiet chatter from the students. Some got up and opened the door to use the restroom. One student made it back to them to say they wanted to leave early to “go to their dorm.” _y/n_ smiled at the girl and said, “Okay, just make sure you’re signed in.” The teen nodded and said, “Thanks. See you Thursday.” At the end of the film, as Father Karras passes away, Hotch looks over _y/n_’s face. Her eyes were a bit misty. She had warned him that she got emotional at the end. She had looped him in because she didn’t want him to worry that she was so scared that she was crying, or crying for some other unknown reasons. As the credit started rolling, _y/n_ wiped her eyes and she moved to the front of the room.

She paused the movie and said, “Alright everyone, shield your eyes, the lights are coming back on.” Once the lights were on and everyone could see again, _y/n_ moved to the side of the lectern and leaned against it. She started by saying, “I’m going to make this quick because I’m sure there are places you want to be that aren’t here, and because I’m tired.” Hotch half knew that she wanted to be with him too, and it made him smile. _y/n_ asked, “So, what’s the tone of the film?” There was a brief silence, but then a young man said, “It’s camp.” That got a laugh from everyone and then opened the door for the class to bounce some ideas off each other. They spoke about theme and religion, and whether Regan or Chris acted as the final girl. They talked about Father Karra’s characterization and story arc. _y/n_ helped lead the conversation, but let her students talk and express their views. She asked, “So we’ve read the novel and seen the film and talked about the religious symbolism and overtones. So tell me what in the film is transubstantiated?” At this, there was a lingering silence. One girl offered, “Regan’s vomit?” _y/n_ chuckled and said, “Close, anyone else?” Aaron couldn’t help himself, because he also wanted to know the answer, so he said, “Is it Regan herself?” His comment reverberated to the front and twenty-one pairs of eyes turned to him. Hotch felt called out, but _y/n_ pulled the the student’s attention back to her by saying, “Yes very good. Now I can’t claim anything about authorial intent, but in my opinion, Regan is transubstantiation a literal transformation of her body and blood.”

_y/n_ quickly wrapped up the extra credit after that. A few minutes later Hotch and _y/n_ were back outside and headed to her car. They had stopped her her office for her to pick up a stack of papers that needed to be graded. Aaron smiled when he saw a picture of him and Jack pinned to the wall next to her degree. He leaned down and kissed her gently. As they pulled back, he said, “I love you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ hummed happily back at him. In the cold night, they moved across the campus grounds. It was dark and Aaron wrapped an arm around _y/n_’s waist, pulling her close to him. They passed by one of the emergency stations which looked to be broken. He looked down to _y/n_ and asked, “You keep a taser on you when you’re here at night, right?” _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “I carry pepper spray. I haven’t gotten a taser yet, but I will.” Hotch nodded as they walked into the parking garage. Aaron had done loads of research about the safety of the university once _y/n_ had told him where they worked. He had seen too many cases on college campuses to not be concerned for _y/n_’s safety. When they got back to the car, Aaron opened the door for _y/n_. She settled in and he moved to his seat. He turned on the heater and they cruised out onto the street. They talked a bit about the film, and Aaron asked why she cried at the end. What it meant to her. _y/n_ did her best to explain the real love and sacrifice Karras made to save Regan. How seeing Pazuzu restored his faith. _y/n_ made sure to clarify, “Even if a person doesn’t have faith, or that type of faith, I think pretty much anyone can see that he was finally at peace at the end.” Aaron nodded along, listening to her intently. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hotch asked, “So, how did I do Prof? Was my answer to your question actually right?” _y/n_ chuckled and said “I think you were right. Regan’s transformation was literal and it was the answer I was hoping for.” She looked over Aaron, his face lit by the streetlamps and dashboard. He was so beautiful to her and she added, “I give you an A for effort.” Hotch smiled at her comments, saying, “I’m happy to help. And hey, an A. You’ll make a good student of me yet.”

When they got to her place, they moved to the front door and _y/n_ pulled her keys from her purse and let them in. The bowl she had left out that had been filled with candy was now running low, and even though it was late, there weren’t going to be many more kids. _y/n_ moved to the counter and dumped more candy into the container. With that done, she locked the door behind her. Aaron and _y/n_ moved to her room and kicked off their shoes and socks. They changed into comfy clothes before crawling into bed. Three months into their relationship, they both kept a few pairs of clothes in the other’s space. In the bed, they were next to each other, the back of _y/n_’s head resting on his chest, her body positioned between his opened legs. Hotch’s hands moved over her chest and torso before moving lower slowly. He watched _y/n_ in the soft light of her lamps. Seeing her like this, seeing her care for her students, and for him made him nuzzle his face in her hair. It smelled of vanilla. As Aaron’s hand moved to a more intimate place, _y/n_’s intake of breath told him that she enjoyed what he was doing. She had told him many, many times that he was skilled in that area. The thought of her praise had him excited in his pants. Hotch asked in a low voice, full of desire, “Do you think I can get something more for my insightful comments than a hypothetic A?” _y/n_ squirmed a bit with pleasure before moving out between his legs. She moved to face him and kneeled in front of him. As her hand started moving over him and he let out a groan, she said, “For you Aaron, I’d do anything.”

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