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vanteguccir · 3 months

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starve and die | c. sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader | Matt and Nick Sturniolo x reader (platonic)

Summary: When Nick and Matt test positive for covid and Chris has to go into lockdown to prevent catching the virus, who will look after them?

Warning: Covid-19, sickness.

Author's note: I've just watched the triplets new video and had this idea!!

PS.: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed as she turned off her car, preparing herself for the long days ahead, not that it was a burden for her to take care of her boyfriend and best friends, almost brothers.

Matt and Nick tested positive for Covid-19 two days ago, and the first thing Chris did upon receiving their test results was send a quick text to Y/N saying that they both had the virus and that he and his brothers would have to be in lockdown for at least five days.

He sent many texts asking her to not worry, as his brothers' symptoms weren't much more than the flu, and that he was fine and would stay in his room so he wouldn't run the risk of catching the virus too, but who said she listened?

Y/N knew that Chris wouldn't have the patience to make healthy food at least three times a day for him and his brothers, and she knew how afraid he was of getting sick too. Y/N didn't have that worry, being a medical student and a resident at LA's main private hospital, she knew very well how to deal with all of this and wouldn't spare any energy when taking care of her family.

The girl was grateful that her boss had empathy and gave her a few days off work.

With that, Y/N prepared herself the day before, going to the nearest pharmacy to buy some boxes of covid tests and a new box of disposable masks, since the one she had at home was running low, and then went to Target, buying several healthy snacks, fruits, vegetables and chicken to make several soups and light food dishes, not intending to make anything heavy or fatty with fear of making the boys' situation worse.

Today, before leaving the house, Y/N prepared a backpack with a few extra changes of clothes, without overfilling it due to having more than enough of it at the triplets' house. Furthermore, she took a purse and put everything she would need: masks, tests, food and some medicines that are allowed during covid to alleviate some symptoms.

Before getting out of the driver's seat, Y/N grabbed the mask she had ready next to her, putting it on her face and finally getting out of the car. Y/N closed the door and opened the back seat, grabbing her backpack and purse, quickly locking the car and walking to the front door. The girl searched the pocket of her Fresh Love sweatpants, soon finding the spare key to her boyfriend's house.

After unlocking the door, she opened it carefully, not wanting to make too much noise, already knowing that one of the boys had a headache, if not all of them.

The girl walked to the kitchen and placed her things on the counter, before going back to the door to close and lock it.

Before Y/N started her first task, she walked to Chris's room, seeing the door closed. She knocked twice lightly, opening it slowly and seeing Chris under the covers staring at the ceiling, in the dark, with only the light from his TV illuminating the space, the girl held back a laugh knowing that her boyfriend was probably losing his mind for staying locked in his room alone for days.

Chris quickly raised his head with the sound, taking a few seconds to realize that Y/N was there, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Babe, what are you doing here?" He asked, getting up quickly and walking towards her, asking with his eyes if he could get closer and the girl rolled her eyes, nodding.

"I came to take care of you three idiots." She mumbled against the mask, closing her eyes momentarily as she felt Chris's arms around her, never wanting to let go.

"I told you not to worry, I had everything under control." Chris murmured, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

"Of course, so much so that you were lying there staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world." She let out a laugh when she heard Chris snort. "I'm sure you must be starving, when was the last time you ate some real food?" Y/N questioned, seeing Chris shrug.

"You talk as if I didn't show up at the hospital almost everyday with lunch for you." Chris snapped like a child, crossing his arms.

"Lunch that Nick made." She argued, laughing loudly when Chris huffed, frowning. "I'm kidding, baby, I love it when you show up at the hospital with lunch for me." Y/N said, approaching and planting a kiss on Chris's shoulder behind the mask.

"By the way, weren't you on duty today?" Chris asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he took his phone out of his hoodie pocket and double-clicked the screen, checking the date.

"I did, but I asked my boss for a few days off so I could take care of you and she gave it to me." Y/N said smiling big, and Chris couldn't help but smile back as he saw his girlfriend's eyes shrink from her happy expression, without being able to see her smile directly.

"Well, since you're already here, I think I'm a little hungry." Chris joked, running his hand over his belly and giving her a mischievous smile.

"Alright little kid, I'm going to cook you something and you're going to stay here in your room and look pretty." The girl said, pushing Chris lightly, blowing a kiss and closing the door behind her.

Y/N walked to the kitchen again, not containing her goofy smile.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N lifted the lid of the pan, taking the wooden spoon and quickly tasting the chicken soup (here in Brazil we call it canja, and it works miracles when you're sick, and it's delicious), letting out a sound of pleasure for the flavor. She turned off the heat, taking three plates from the cupboard and the spoon, distributing the soup on each of the plates, sprinkling some leek on top before taking three spoons and placing them inside the plates.

The girl took three glasses and added fresh orange juice, which she made minutes before, and took two pills of the only headache medicine allowed during the virus.

Y/N opened one of the cabinets and took three trays, placing them side by side on the counter and arranging on top of each one the plate of soup, the glass of juice and the medicine pill.

She quickly grabbed the first tray and walked carefully to Matt's bedroom door, bending down and placing the tray on the floor before knocking on the door three times.

"Matt?"

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Y/N heard Matt's voice, feeling in his voice the pain the boy was feeling.

"I came to take care of you three, I made some soup and juice, they're in here." She replied, hearing the boy move around inside the room before walking away and returning to the kitchen, hearing the sound of the door opening and closing a few minutes later.

Y/N took the second tray and walked to Nick's room, hearing his voice behind the door, assuming he was on a call with someone or recording a video. The girl bent down and placed the tray on the floor again, knocking firmly on the door to make sure Nick heard.

"What are you doing outside your room, Chris?" Nick shouted from inside the room, making the girl laugh. "Y/N?!" He asked in surprise before quickly opening the door and Y/N applauded herself for wearing the mask. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?" Nick asked, holding the camera in one of his hands, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I took a few days off to take care of you three. And I made real food!" Y/N repeated the same sentence for the thousandth time, pointing to the tray, smiling when she saw the taller's eyes light up.

The boy bent down, picking up the tray with one of his hands and straightening up, raising the camera again and smiling wide at the lens.

"Guys, Y/N brought food for us, the hungry ones. Everyone say "thank you Y/N"." Nick spoke into the lens, smiling widely at the girl before closing the door after seeing her turn to go back to the kitchen.

Finally, the girl took the last tray and walked to the last room, her boyfriend's, where she would stay for the rest of the days, knowing that the boy was free of the virus.

"Honey? Open here for me, please." Y/N asked from behind the door, entering the room after Chris quickly opened it with a smile on his face, staring at the soup on the tray.

The girl let out a laugh, placing the tray on the boy's computer desk and sitting on his bed, pointing at the food.

"Bon appétit, my love."

"What would I do without you?" Chris asked, approaching the computer desk and sitting in the chair.

"Starve and die." She replied, laughing loudly behind her mask as she saw Chris shove a spoonful of soup into his mouth as he nodded quickly, without actually hearing her.

#sturniolo x reader #x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #love #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fic #imagine #chris x reader #doctor #youtuber

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reiderwriter · 3 months

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My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.

You accepted understanding from him, though.

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.”

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”

“What?”

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.

“I live down the hall.”

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”

“I have three PhD's-”

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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13leaguestories · 6 days

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Hey, I was in the process of replaying Superstition from scratch in order to start Season 3 with everything fresh in my mind.

But because of the overhaul of Season 1 you're planning to do, do you think I should still go on with that, or should I rather wait for you to actually release the update to Season 1?

Answering this now for all those curious and who may be doing the same and want to know if they need to wait.

It mostly depends on how much you care. SHORT ANSWER: you don't have to as S3 will have the necessary CC. But I think you should. There's just too many additions and tweaks happening.

LONG ANSWER:

I've added a tons of things in Ep1 by itself already and I'm not even done. I'll list some of the major changes so you can get an idea below.

Zillah is now romanceable in S1

Chanara will be introduced in S1 and also romanceable out the gate

Tons of romance scenes beings added and tweaked to fit new scenes, better convey ideas, and due to shifts in personality system

A bunch of smaller variables for characters being added (e.g. bad habits, height, sub-classes, religious, etc)

Nerve stat tweak

An additional scar in the beginning as well as a tweak on the main fears

Plot fixes!!

And then probably a bunch of other things I just don't remember off the top of my head.

So yea, I do think if you want to get the grand scope, wait and play it when S1 updates. As in S3, if you don't, you'll notice that Chanara no longer is some new character you know nothing about. You won't have some variables that won't be in the CC cos they'll be too many of them and are mostly flavor text.

S2 will be getting a similar treatment, can't say if it'll be as grand though but possibly because of all the changes S1 will have.

#superstition ask

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meshlasolus · 6 months

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Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

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@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

Text

Palpation - RMTJoel!Miller x f!Reader - 18+

Rating: 18+

Summary: You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good? (AU - NO OUTBREAK)

Words: 6.8k

Tags: RMTJoel!, unprofessionalism in the workplace, power imbalance (kinda?), consent king, massage (external and internal heh heh I'm so dang funny), soft!Joel, public sex, fingering, handjob.

a/n: Went for a massage at the spa (thanks to a thoughtful xmas gift!) and came up with this idea. I wanna make it REAL clear that this is FANTASY. Meaning RMT’s ain’t there to be sexualized. It’s all for the sensual fun of this story, but in no way should this EVER happen in real life. Alright, onto the smut.

===========================================

Palpation

"You need to see a massage therapist."

"No I don't," you insist scowling at your roommate Pam as you come hobbling across the room to sit next to her, pizza box in hand.

"It's been a week of you complaining about a sore back you got... How again?"

"Sneezing," you mumble with a frown. Pam opens the pizza box and you two grab a slice. Nothing to remind you of your age like pulling a muscle sneezing.

"A massage place just opened up a few blocks away last month. I saw it when I was getting groceries," Pam says pulling up her phone and typing quickly. "It's called ... Mill."

"Sounds pretentious."

"Looks gorgeous."

"Any reviews?"

"Yeah like sixty," Pam says sounding impressed. "Place has a 4.9 out of 5 on Google."

"Probably paid for them," you murmur, wiping your greasy fingers on your napkin.

"There are photos," Pam says. "This place looks stunning."

She holds up her phone and you swipe through several images of beautiful pristine rooms with the luscious looking massage tables. It's like through the phone you can smell lavender and hear gentle wind chimes playing.

"I've never been for a massage before," you say with a nervous glance back at her face. "Laying naked on scratchy sheets while some random person is touching me all over gives me the creeps."

"They're professionals," Pam says rolling her eyes and smirking. "They change sheets between clients and you wear as many clothes as you feel comfortable in."

Hmm. You didn't know that.

You consider this proposition as you flip through what to watch on Netflix. You have to admit that the idea of a massage sounds appealing after a solid week of being in pain and hunching when you walk. Pamela gloms onto the fact that you're being swayed.

"Okay I'm booking you in with the person all the reviews recommend" Pam says typing away.

"Guy or girl?"

"Guy."

"Oh."

"What?"

You wince. "Isn't it weird for a guy to massage a girl?"

"I get massages from guy massage therapists all the time," Pam says rolling her eyes at you. "It's

only weird if you make it weird."

///

This was a terrible fucking idea.

As soon as you walk through doors of "Mill" a week later you feel out of place. Beautifully carved doors and sumptuous looking couches decorate the front room. It smells like heaven in here, warm and fresh. Everything is so fancy.

You are not fancy.

You are anxious.

You've shaved every part of your body in a panic that morning, unsure if this is the correct protocol. What if they get grossed out by massaging body hair? What if your skin is too dry? What if your back is disgusting? You've never really looked at it that closely.

Pam told you they don't care, that they see actually gross shit every day and that your body will be a welcome change of pace. But you don't trust her because Pam also told you that you could pull off red leather pants in college.

She was definitely wrong about that.

A pleasant woman of about fifty sits at the front desk typing away. When you approach she smiles brightly at you.

"Hello welcome to Mill. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, hi, I'm here for the four pm," you say softly. This place is so serene it feels weird to speak louder than a whisper.

"And with which massage therapist?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, my friend booked it."

"Not a problem," the receptionist says with a bright smile as she passes you over a clipboard with a sheet and pencil attached to the clasp. "Just fill this in."

You look over the intake form, blown away by all the questions asking about everything from allergies to if diabetes runs in the family. You fill this in swiftly; your eyes darting to the clock over the door leading to what you assume are massage rooms. You've got ten minutes. You lick your lips nervously and go back to the form. You turn the page over, circling on the diagram of the human body where your pain is.

The last part is a yes or no checkbox.

1. I bruise easily

No.

2. I sleep 8+ hours a night

Fuck I wish. Nope.

3. I have back problems

Seems like a stupid question on a massage form. But yes, obviously.

4. I am satisfied sexually

Your pencil hovers over that question as your cheek heats up. You know it's asking you this for medical reasons but it still makes you feel embarrassed when you tick off: "No".

You finish the rest of the check boxes and then return the sheet and clipboard back to the woman. She gives you a smile and indicates behind you.

"Take a seat and he'll call you in."

You slip back into one of the oversized chairs as a beautiful black woman with heels walks in. She swishes by you with a smile before turning her attention to the receptionist.

"Hi, I have a four o'clock with Tommy."

"Perfect, I'll let him know."

The woman takes a seat next to you in one of the chairs typing. She's stunning with long legs and glossy black braids. Her large almond eyes drift over to you.

"Have you been here before?"

You shake your head. "No, have you?"

"No but my co-workers wouldn't stop talking about it," she says with a laugh. "I figured what the hell, ya know?"

"My roommate booked the appointment for me," you tell her grinning. "The thought of-"

Before you can finish your thoughts a voice reaches out.

"Maria?"

A handsome man pops out from around the door, glancing to the other woman and you're struck by how muscular he is. How glossy his dark hair is and how his pants fit him just right.

Thank Christ he's not my massage therapist. I would not be able to have his hands on me.

"Maria?"

"Hi," the girl says and you can see she has been similarly affected. If she was a cartoon there would have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Hi, I'm Tommy," the man says with a charming smile as Maria pulls her purse to her shoulder. "Follow me to room 1."

Maria stumbles after Tommy's disappearing figure but not before shooting you a look over her shoulder and mouthing "What the fuck?"

You hold in a giggle as the door closes. You pull out your phone hurriedly composing a text to Pam.

[3:58pm] You need a massage with a guy named Tommy here. Definitely your type.

You scroll back through a few work emails distracted until the door to the hallway opens with a creak.

A deep voice says your name and your glance up from your phone just in time to see a tall man with the sweetest smile you've ever seen standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. His dark curls are brushed back, threaded with silver.

Please no. He can’t be for me. He’s even hotter than the other one!

"Hi I'm Joel," he says extending a hand out to you as you stand and approach him. "I'll be your therapist today."

Shocked, you just stare at how long the fingers are, how broad the palm is that leads up to forearms and biceps just meant to squeeze. The white t-shirt he wears literally strains over his broad shoulders and biceps. And then you see it, the small dimple in his right cheek over a neatly trimmed beard. Your heart actually flutters at the sight of it.

He's fucking gorgeous.

And just as that thought registers with you, a dawning horror begins to flood your senses.

There's no way you're getting a massage from him. He's going to touch your almost naked body? He's going to be so... Close? Rubbing?! Just looking at him is causing a heartbeat to begin between your legs.

You still haven't reached out to shake his hand and Joel takes it back quickly, looking embarrassed.

"Follow me to room four."

On shaky legs you stumble after him in much the same way Maria did after Tommy. You watch the way his body moves so languidly, graceful despite his size. You try to ignore the twitch of his tight ass as he moves, willing yourself to focus on the artwork gracing the walls or observing how clean everything is.

Once inside the small space you take a chance to look around. It's simple, pristine white with dark grey floors. The walls hold pictures of nature, a horse walking through the forest. It's very calming to look at. It also smells divine in here, like a spring meadow. But you're not sure if it's the room or the man in the room with you.

You stroke the soft blanket overtop the expensive looking massage table, stilling in surprise as you feel its warmth. Joel is seated on a small rolling stool and he grabs a pen from behind his ear.

"So what brings you in today?"

"Is this blanket heated?"

"Uh," Joel looks confused at your response. "Yes."

"Jesus," you whistle impressed before you realize he's asked a question "Oh, I, uh, I've been having some back stuff lately."

"Work related injury?" He asks, pencil poised above your intake form on his clipboard.

"No."

"Did it come on suddenly?"

Do not tell him the truth.

"I was playing basketball and I wrenched it," you tell him airily as if innate athleticism is just one of your many gifts.

"Where exactly?" Joel asks coming to a stand and walking over to you. You try not to shake as he approaches. He tucks the pencil behind his ear and the clipboard under his arm.

"Uh, here," you say turning from him and pointing to your lower back. You face the wall surprised to see a mirror there. You see Joel in the reflection and watch his face turn studious as he stares at your lower back.

"Is it alright if I touch you for the assessment?" Joel says, eyes scanning down your back. You swallow.

“Sure.”

Please touch me everywhere.

Wait. When did that happen? When did the thought of Joel touching you go from terrifying to enticing?

You feel his large forefinger skate down your spine and dip to the dimple at your lower back. You inhale sharply, thighs pressing together tightly trying to tamp down the pleasured shiver that wants to take you over.

You see Joel's dark eyes dart to the mirror looking concerned as he meets your gaze in the reflection.

"You okay? That hurt?"

"No," you reply confused. "Why?"

"You're tremblin'."

He pulls back obviously concerned he's pressing too hard and you pray he doesn't notice your cheeks heating.

"No uh, just a little cold." You give a shaky laugh. "Good thing you have a heated blanket."

Joel gives a little half smirk and turns, pulling the pencil from behind his ear once more.

"Psoas major," he murmurs, making a note on his clipboard. "Pretty common for low back pain. Gonna start in the mid back and work my way down. Then I like to end with you facing up so i can get at those neck muscles. That work for you?"

"Yep."

"Great, just need you to sign this consent form."

He holds it out to you and you give it a cursory glance before scrawling your signature at the bottom. At this point you're willing to sign your voice away to a sea witch if it means getting Joel's hands on you quicker.

"Alright now, I'm gonna step out for a few so you can undress and get up on the table under the sheet. I'll knock before I come in. Alright?"

"Okay."

He gives a small smile before moving past you out the door, closing it behind him. He smells amazing. It's not the room smell. You can't place it but its warm and masculine and...

Oh fuck you're supposed to be getting undressed.

You hurriedly strip until you're in nothing but your underwear. You place all your things on the chair near the door. After a pause you move your bra underneath the pile.

You pull yourself up on the massage table maneuvering yourself until you're breast and belly down with your head nestled in the tufted face hole of the table.

You pull the warmed top sheet up to your neck and are amazed at how relaxed you already are. Maybe Pam was right maybe you have needed a massage all this time. You could drift off right here.

Tap tap.

"You ready?"

Your heart slams against your ribcage. That beautiful man is going to touch you. Rub you with oil with those big delicious looking hands of his.

"Uh, yeah ready," you call out in a strangled voice.

Calm the fuck down.

You hear the door open and close. All you can see face down is the hardwood floor. The lights dim and your straining ears hear the sound of Joel tapping on his phone. Soft meditation -like music fills the room and you take a deep breath as his voice murmurs next to you.

"That okay?"

"Yep."

He could play Scottish fucking bagpipes for all you care. You just want him to touch you.

"Your form says you've never had a massage before," Joel says quietly and you see his shoes underneath the table. Basic white Tom's should not turn you on the way that they do right now.

"No."

"Alright well just so you know, the next part is I'm gonna lower the sheet to your comfort level and then we can start. Yeah?"

"Yep."

The shoes are gone from your vision and you feel him drag down the blanket over your naked back until it rests low on your spine, just at the start of the swell of your ass. You suddenly wish you had cuter underpants on.

"This alright?"

"Yep."

Your eyes blow wide when he tucks it lightly in around your hips.

"Let's get started."

At the first touch of his hand on your spine, you twitch, your nervous body over stimulated by the situation alone. Joel's hands are off you completely, his voice concerned.

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Yeah sorry," you say with a breathless laugh. "Wasn't ready I guess."

Joel chuckles and it's a rich, delicious sound that makes your stomach flip.

"That's okay, shoulda gave warnin'. Startin now."

His hands alight to your midback pressing lightly. He does this down your spine to warm you up, he tells you. You don't care what he does. You'd happily become a human pretzel if it meant having Joel's hands on you.

The hands retreat and then there's the sound of lotion being squeezed and Joel rubbing his hands together. Those big, broad hands. You're so thankful he can't see how red your face is.

Joel begins between your scapula, his wide hands smoothing over your muscles with expert care. At first you're nervous when his hands touch places that have been overlooked for months by previous partners, but soon you allow your eyes to shut and your breathing to even out.

His hands go to your spine before Fanning out over your shoulder blades. The sensation is so fucking good, so tender. He rubs a knot there and you hiss with pleasure at the feeling of it being worked.

"Tell me if the pressure is too hard," he breathes.

"I actually like it hard."

The minute you say it you cringe. Why did that sound sexual? Because Joel is hot ? Because you're horny? Pamela's words float through your consciousness.

It's only weird if you make it weird.

Just relax. Ignore it. He's not saying anything. You try to pretend you didn't say something asinine and just close your eyes.

His oiled hands move down your spine, coming to press at your lower back, the problem area. Joel applies pressure gingerly before his thumbs begin to knead into the deep muscles there.

At first it hurts but you remain silent, needing it to continue. After the initial throbbing ebbs you relax into it, feeling the muscle relent under his talented fingers. The release feels so good that you actually sigh out loud.

"Ah, there we go," Joel purrs in a voice so husky you feel your panties physically dampen.

His hands move lower, fingers grazing just under the waistband of your panties as he massages your lower back, taking his time on the problem areas you mentioned.

It feels like heaven.

Somewhere around the midway mark you feel so relaxed that you actually drift off, carried away by Joel’s touch amongst the scent of sandalwood and the sound of flutes.

You shift awake when you hear Joel's raspy voice in your ear. You have no idea how much time has passed.

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over onto your back for me. I'll turn around."

You do as he says still partly drowsy, your whole body feeling warm and boneless. You roll over, sliding down the table a bit and tugging the blanket up until it covers your breasts. You secure it under your arms.

Your eyes crack open to see Joel turned away from you. His broad back is smooth under his shirt and from this angle you see his tight ass through his pants. He's like a Greek god in a white cotton t-shirt.

You hope you don't have ugly lines on your face from the hole but you accept that you probably do. Oh well. Not like Joel was gonna ask you out anyway. You close your eyes again.

"Okay. Ready."

You hear Joel place himself on the rolling stool. He slides behind you at the top of the massage table and you hold in a shudder as he moves your hair up out of his way, his fingertips grazing your neck. Immediately you feel your nipples tighten and you pray they can't be seen through the sheet.

His hands are oiled up and then move to your neck once more. His fingers glide along your collarbone before dragging over the muscles there. The sensation is incredible, the overlooked and overworked muscle celebration with the release of tension.

"Feels so nice," you mutter without thinking.

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says and you hear the smile in it. You can feel the warm huff of his minty breath fall over your cheek.

You realize belatedly that his face must be near yours and you feel your heartbeat quicken. Your thighs press together tightly and you're shocked at how turned on you are. Joel's touch, this room, this comfort has all conspired to get you to the edge of arousal.

His wide hands squeeze your neck muscles, gently vibrating. Something releases and your head swims warmly.

You wriggle slightly and Joel shifts his hands to the back of your skull. His thumbs press and begin to circle there, digging pleasantly.

"Your form says you get headaches."

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," he tells you, his voice tinged with pride. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

You don't know how to tell him that his patients probably just like anything he does because he's the most beautiful man you've seen outside a movie screen.

When his thumbs get to your temples you should have told him to stop. Because the thudding between your legs is increasing. With every swipe you feel your core tightening.

Calm down. Calm down.

His thumbs retreat and you feel a stab of relief go through you. That is until his fingers slide up the back of your neck through your hair...

And he tugs.

A simple motion, just a grab of your hair in his fists and a gentle tug to release the tension in your skull. Except it releases the tension.... Everywhere.

Pleasure overwhelms you, warm and flooding your entire body like sweet golden light. Your hands grip the sheets as your back arches unexpectedly, hips digging back against the table.

The sound of your shuddered cry hits the air sharply, like cool water thrown over the both of you.

And then silence.

//////

You're tense.

That much was clear when Joel saw you in the waiting room. When he touched your tight back and saw the pinched way your face looked in the mirror.

He was determined to get you to relax. To give you what he knew you needed: release from pain. He'd read your intake form, saw where the pain was, saw you were getting shitty sleep, the headaches. It makes sense that you were wound up.

And you'd nearly jolted off the table at his first touch of you. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. You were like a skittish horse, wild and needing desperately to be tamed.

And soon enough you'd calmed under his light touches. And now you seem pretty relaxed as the massage continues, Joel smiles when he thinks he hears you snoring quietly. He works away at the stubborn knots in your back.

He moves down your arm, hearing you give soft little whimpers in your sleep and noting when he gets to your hand that there's no wedding band there. He doesn't understand why that sticks out to him but it does. He works down your other arm doing the same.

He lets a hand drift along your spine, watching as you curve up for him like a cat. It's hypnotizing how his little grazes affect you so deeply. His eyes drift to the clock in the corner. Twenty minutes left.

His mouth goes to your ear.

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over for me. I'll turn around."

He turns, listening to the rustling sheets as you scoot down the table a bit, pulling the sheets up over you.

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says with a smile.

Everything is going well; you're going boneless in his hands again. So pliant and willing. Joel finds deep satisfaction in this. Like he's won your body over somehow, told it there's no reason for fear. He thinks it’s because you seemed so unimpressed with him at first, so dismissive. You wouldn’t even shake his hand. But now you seem like you’ve warmed up to him and this pleases him.

He sees the crease between your brows and smoothes over it with his thumb. He smiles when it disappears under his touch.

"Your form says you get headaches," he says remembering what he read earlier.

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," Joel says, proudly. He's never heard a bad word about his head massages. Hell, some people come in just for that. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

His thumbs move to your temple and that's when he first notices the shifting of your thighs. He assumes it's an itch and ignores it. Looking back that should have been his first indication.

When your breathing began to pick up he assumed he was just hitting a good spot. Mistake number two.

One of Joel's favorite things about massage is that as well as healing it can bring deep relaxation and even pleasure. When he gathers the hair at the back of your neck and tugs he does so in the hopes that it will work on releasing some of that headache tension you were talking about.

And then Joel hears it.

The shuddering gasp accompanied by the arch of your spine and twitch of your lower half. He sees your hands curl into the sheet on either side of you. If he'd been working anywhere near your lower back he would have brushed it off as a sore muscle. But as it is he knows what just happened.

You just came.

He sees it in the shuddering intake of breath you take now, the flush over your cheeks and what he can see of your chest. And the way your legs relax under the sheet.

It's not the first time a woman or man has been aroused on his table. He's had his fair share of tented blankets with the men and squirming women biting their bottom lips. The only difference is he's never made one come on his table before.

And they've never made him hard.

His cock is lengthening in his pants and he's so thankful that your eyes are closed. He momentarily panics, this has never happened before and the professionalism he strives for is rapidly escaping him.

He can see your face is screwed up in anxiety and a wave of pity mixed with shame goes through him. He knows what happened with you was completely involuntary.

And you were doing so well right before, totally limp in his grasp. You were relaxed and he'd given that to you but now you're entire body is turning in on itself, tight. All the good work you both did today leaving.

Just get over it. Do your job.

Joel's a professional and he knows how to handle these situations. The best course of action is to pretend like nothing is wrong.

"The pressure okay?"

"Yep," you say tightly, your entire body tensing up under his hands. He moves his hands back to your neck and rubs gently.

"Just relax," he whispers huskily. "We're finishing up."

This seems to relax you more, the thought that soon you'll be gone from this table.

He needs you gone from the table, from the room, from his practice. The more he touches you and looks at you, knowing how naked you are under that sheet, the more he feels that coiled sensation in his belly. He tries to ignore that ache in his cock. But the more he tries to ignore it the more it seems to pulse.

Your head shifts slightly, showing him more of your neck and suddenly he can't help himself. His face drifts slowly towards it, so close he can smell your perfume or your shampoo or lotion. Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious. It makes him want to run his tongue along your neck.

His eyes drift to your ear with its simple stud and Joel knows he’s in trouble because your fucking ear is turning him on. He clears his throat, voice rumbling from the base of his chest.

"Need it harder?"

He watches you shiver, sees the goosebumps rise all along your body and now he notices the tiny buds of your nipples through the top sheet. He holds in a growl as you give a small whimper.

"Uh... Yes, thank you."

Your breathy voice is so tentative and he loathes that it makes his cock twitch. He glances down to see his erection tents his pants almost comically now.

That's enough. This is a fucking patient, Miller.

He briefly removes his hands from you and stands, planning on flipping his aching cock up in the waistband of his boxers.

There's a sharp ring from inside your purse across the room that startles you both.

"Oh, shit, sorry," you say automatically lifting your head from the table and opening your eyes. "I thought I turned the ringer off-"

You've stopped talking and Joel realizes it's because his hard cock is almost at your eye level and you're staring directly at it. Joel's hands are hung at his sides, uselessly.

Your eyes drag to his, wide and unreadable and they stay fixed there for what feels like forever. The sound of the phone ringing grows dim and then finally silences.

He's going to be fucking arrested. You're going to leave a scathing review on Google. You're going to start screaming any second.

Joel feels like his entire world is being tilted on its axis the more your eyes drift between him and his still hard cock.

"I've... I don't..... I've never," Joel fumbles, trying to come up with the right words. "No ones ... No patients ever done this before... To me, I mean."

You flush so prettily at that, your smile is shy and crooked. You look at the table, embarrassed before your face is turned up to face him again.

"Would you..." You trail off licking your lips nervously. Joel feels his cock pulsing when you do. "Would it be okay if... If I.. Or you...?"

Joel watches your fingers reaching for his zipper before stopping, waiting for him to give the go ahead.

I should leave. Tell her it's inappropriate and go.

Joel ignores this thought entirely, instead he nods in understanding as he pops open the top button of his pants and slides the zipper down the teeth. Your eyes watch its descent with eager anticipation.

His cock is stiff in his boxers and he shyly covers the thick shaft and head poking aggressively from the slit in the middle. He expects that this will turn you off, his obvious arousal. But your eyes have grown glazed, mouth parted.

"Can I…touch?"

Joel sees your hand going towards the hand covering his cock. He swallows nervously. This is crossing all ethical and moral boundaries.

And yet ...

Joel nods, dropping his hand and you hesitate for a only a moment before your eyes drift to the belt at his hip. He realizes you've spotted the lotion bottle inside. Joel says nothing as you pump a few dabs of the massage oil into your palm before rubbing your hands together.

He feels his heart begin to hammer as your hand reaches between the two of you to grip the head of his cock lightly. Barely a touch and Joel feels a groan pulled from his chest.

His gaze is on your hand, watching as you begin to stroke, squeezing along the head. The lotion makes your hand glide perfectly, your grip strong and tight.

He lets his eyes drift over to your face and a new surge of arousal goes through him. Your face is fixed in concentration, cheeks flushed so fucking pretty. You give a twist of your wrist that has Joel's legs about to buckle.

"Oh fuck," Joel moans, head tilting forward. "So....Tha- that's so fucking good, baby."

///

Baby.

Your thighs press together almost painfully at his husky voice calling you that.

Baby.

You cannot believe what's happening. An hour ago you were terrified to have a stranger touch you and now you're jerking off your masseur's deliciously thick cock as he calls you baby.

He's so beautiful, eyes closed, hands braced against the table as you stroke him. He thrusts shallowly into your hand, wanting you to take the lead.

Everything about him is sexy to you. His tall frame arching over the table for you, the way you can see his ass clench in his pants when he moves against your palm. The little groans you're pulling from him, sailing past his teeth almost shyly.

Your own breathing is staggered because you can't stop looking at his mouth. It's parted, his breath coming out in long shudders. You want to kiss him so fucking badly but you're lying back on the table and he's standing. You wish you could see more of him, not just the cock pulled from the slit of his boxers.

"I don't deserve this," Joel groans, his shoulders rolling as he arches into your pumping hand.

"You do. You made me feel so good," you say softly. "I just wanna do the same."

His dark eyes open, glazed and fixed on you. His eyes dart everywhere, from your eyes to your mouth to your eyes and back down to your mouth.

You flinch when you feel his fingers slip under the sheet and begin to trail along your inner thigh.

"Wanna do it again," he rumbles. "Properly if that's okay."

You can only breathe shallowly as you force a nod. It's barely more than a twitch but it's all he needs. His fingers slide between your thighs, dancing there. He groans as he does this, your hand working him well.

He licks his lower lip, eyes never leaving your face as his fingers glide over your clothed pussy. You instinctively tilting into his touch, cheeks flaming. Joel runs a forefinger between your slit, feeling the soaking fabric of your panties there. You give a whimper as his eyelids shutter.

"I made you this wet?"

His voice is low, awed.

Again you give the smallest nod, feeling warm when Joel smiles at you. He looks so pleased with himself.

You dip your eyes down your body, unable to see anything other than movement of his hand under the sheet. For some reason that makes it even hotter.

Your eyes go back to his face just in time for his finger to slip under your panties and begin to tease your entrance. At this your body jerks and the sheet falls slightly, showing you left breast and very erect nipple. You watch his eyes greedily drink in the sight.

"Goddam."

Joel's hips begin to stutter and you feel his hand come to rest overtop yours. His hand is large and warm and he holds you gently, stilling your movements.

"Slower," he tells you in a rasp. "Want us to get there together."

Fuck. Could this guy get any sexier?

"Okay."

At this his finger enters you, joined quickly by a second at your whispered insistence. You struggle to maintain a slow speed over his slippery cock because of it. He begins to slowly work his way deep, curling delicately. You give a shuddering inhale, eyes at half mast.

"You want it harder?" Joel murmurs and from your position you can see his eyes are nearly black with desire as he looks down at your face. "Seem to remember you sayin' that's how you liked it."

You can only whimper as you nod. His palm grinds against your clit sending sparks of fire up your body.

"F-uuck!"

Your hand is slick with oil and you can hear your dual breathing and the wet sound of your hand working his cock mixing with the harmonious strings and wood flutes being played over the speaker.

You don't even know you're whining until Joel's free hand presses a finger to your lips, gently shushing you.

"They're gonna hear us," he tells you, voice rough and pupils dilated so much his eyes look black. You nod and he removes his finger from against your lips, much to your dismay.

Joel watches as your eyes roll back when he begins to move his fingers within you in earnest. Hitting deep and then retreating, pulsing there, curling and rubbing perfectly. Your hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes along his cock and Joel's eyes go from his cock to the blanket where his fingers work you so well.

Your eyes travel to where your hand works him. Holding him twitching in your palm, watching the head weep with precome makes you feel powerful. Taking down this broad, masculine form with no more than gentle tugs to his cock.

Joel-" you whisper, trying to be quiet but you're struggling. It feels so good. He feels so good. His eyes move to your face, his neck and cheeks flushed.

"Gonna come for me right here," Joel tells you in that low, syrupy way he speaks. The one that says relax, tell me if it's too hard. "Aren't you?"

"Y-yes," you huff, your entire body going rigid. "Yes, gonna come for you, Joel."

Joel feels his stomach tighten at the way you whimper his name. Your back arches, your hand is a blur along his cock. And then suddenly his fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside, the one that has everything in your body coming to life and your eyes roll back.

"Oh there she goes," Joel marvels. "There she fuckin' goes."

Joel's words curl down your body like his hands have done the last hour. They smooth and they press and they make you feel fucking amazing.

"Gonna... " is all you can get before your pleasure overtakes you. You’re body jolts once more and your head slopes back as you snap your free hand over your mouth to keep your moans contained.

"Uh huh, yeah baby, just like that," Joel urges you in heady whispers as you begin to climax. "You look so fucking good coming for me lik-- So fuck... Oh fuck... Makin' me-"

Joel slaps his free hand over his mouth seconds after over you. You let out a ragged moan at precisely the same time, the two of you climaxing with your hands over your mouths so as not to be heard.

His fingers work within you, pumping even as Joel releases himself in thick spurts over your stuttering hand. You soak his fingers under the sheet, body twisting with greedy desire as he stares at your face.

The soft glow of sex fades quickly when the gentle chime of Joel's phone goes off seconds later. Suddenly reality makes itself known, cold and unpleasant as Joel’s cock grows limp in your hand.

What the fuck just happened?

Joel reaches behind him to the shelf and turns back, taking your hand in his and wiping his spend from your palm, between your knuckles, down your wrist. He does this with a red face, not once looking at you. That's for the best because you're so mortified you want to shrivel up under the blanket.

When he's finished he runs a thumb over your knuckles, eyes darting to your face briefly before he drops your hand. He turns from you and tidies himself up, tucking himself away back in his boxers and zipping up his pants.

"That's uh... That's all we have time for today," Joel croaks from over his shoulder.

"Thanks," you say breathily, trying to regain your composure. You stare at his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The firm ass that you want to reach out a grab.

"How do you feel?"

He still hasn't turned around and you wonder what he's thinking. His eyes are so expressive and to have them hidden from you seems a shame because you can't gauge how he feels about what just happened.

"Uh ... Really good... You're very... Good."

At this Joel swallows and you feel like you're face must be on fire. You want to say something, anything to end this awkward exchange but Joel is already striding to the door.

"I'll leave you to get dressed, then."

The door giving a snick closed behind him leaving you to shakily get up from the table. You don't even look to see the evidence of your arousal; you just bunch the sheets up in a pile with shame creeping down your neck.

You don't even know if Joel is married or dating. Just because you're not doesn't mean he doesn't have a very fulfilling relationship outside these four walls. Guilt now takes you over to go along with the shame, like longtime friends holding hands and skipping.

The worst part of all of this was how much you liked it. The needing to be quiet, the rush of doing something forbidden, the feeling of his cock growing harder and harder in your grip. Making a man like that groan and moan for you. You wish you'd tasted him, even just a lick. You also wish he'd talked more. That deep voice of his is more potent than any aphrodisiac you know of.

What the fuck is wrong with me? This is a business. I just jerked a stranger off! This shouldn't turn me on.

You pull on your clothes in haste, tugging the purse over your shoulder and jerking open the door in a rush to leave. To your horror Joel stands just outside in the hallway, eyes on the ground. He looks like an admonished schoolboy forced to make an apology and the sight of it makes you wince.

"How're-"

You don't wait for him to finish the sentence. You want to get away from this place as soon as possible. You give a mumbling goodbye and move past him out the door, just as quiet and detached as when he first met you.

You burst into the waiting room, the door main closing behind you. It's empty save for the receptionist who looks over at you in surprise.

"I'm just here to pay," you tell her, hoping she can't see the shame in your eyes. You go to bring out your wallet from your purse.

"It's already been paid," The receptionist says cheerfully typing on her laptop.

Pam. Of course you're roommate paid for it. You flush as you consider what she actually paid for.

"Would you like to make another appointment?" The receptionist asks cheerfully. "Joel's schedule tends to fill up fast."

You swallow, fingers hovering over the counter. The question is so simple but the answer is anything but obvious.

Yes or No?

#RMT!Joel #Palpation #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #smut #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #fanfiction #soft!joel miller #soft!joel

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ifearimaybeanamericanidiot · 4 months

Text

Playing with his Hair

Chris x reader, 1st person, reader POV

TW: shitty manager

Summary: you've had a long day. Everything was way more difficult than it needed to be. Chris asks you to come over when you get off of work for a gaming stream.

I hate my job. Honestly, I wish I could quit. Most of my coworkers don't even do their jobs, preferring to dump it onto me and my couple close work friends. I know Chris wouldn't mind if I quit and depended on him until I found a different job for a little while, but I would just feel so guilty about it. He's never say it, but I can tell he's under a decent amount of stress trying to keep up a specific appearance for the triplets' fans. I wish all three of them would take a break and just focus on destressing for a little bit.

Nevertheless, I have about twenty minutes left in my shift before the next person gets here to take my place and I can clock out. The diner I work at is incredibly slow at the moment, so I pull my phone out behind the counter and check the time. Well, "check the time." Really, it's just to see Chris on my lock screen. His name pops up in my notifications. I unlock my phone and click on the little box.

Chris 💖: hey doll, I know you're at work, but do you want to come over after you get off? We're doing gaming stream. You can spend the night?

I grin at his message. He's so sweet. I shoot him back a thumbs up since my manager is approaching and slip my phone back into my pocket.

"Bad news, Kaitlyn is running late, so you'll have to stay late." I hate this man. I hold the string of curses in and respond calmly instead.

"How late are we talking?" I lean on the counter in front of me.

"I don't know exactly. Probably at least an extra thirty minutes past your clock out time." His leans across the counter, putting his face near mine. "That isn't an issue is it?" It sounds like a question, but I know better. I know John better than that. No, if I complain I risk my job.

"That's fine." It's not fine. The time moves slowly. At one point I swear the clock starts moving backwards. Eventually, Kaitlyn runs in, her hair messy and her face tired.

"I'm so sorry, babes." She says to me quickly. "I had no idea you were the one stuck here with John. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"You better." I say lightly, mostly joking. "I'm out of here. I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers though." I say as I walk towards the back to clock out. I bump into John. "Kaitlyn just got here, so I'm going to clock out now." He rolls his eyes at me, but says no protest.

I get into my car after clocking out and pull my phone out. I shoot Chris a text.

Me: sorry I'm running so late, Kaykat was late 😭😭 I'm heading over now.

Chris 💖: okay ma, I'll have fresh clothes waiting for you <3

He really is sweet. How did I get so lucky? I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. The drive goes by quickly and before I know it, I'm pulling into the familiar drive way. I park my car, and let myself into the house.

"Honey, I'm back from hell!" I call out. I make my way down to Chris's room when I get no answer. He's not there, but some of his clothes are laid out on the bed. He's laid out one of his hoodies and some sweats. It just seems a little hot for all of that. I grab a shirt from his closet, one that's been worn soft and open the drawer he had kindly donated to hold my growing collection of clothes at his house. I grab a pair of shorts, then change my mind. I grab a pair of his boxers and a pair of black thigh high compression socks. My legs are already aching from that shift, so I'll need the support. I set it on his bed and go to his bathroom. I take my make up off and let my hair down before going back into his room to change.

Once I'm changed and I've deemed myself suitable for public sight, I head upstairs to the room they always stream in. I can hear them yelling from down the hall. I softly open the door and slip in. Nick and Matt are busy yelling at Chris for dying.

"You're done! No more playing until you can stay alive for longer than five fucking minutes!" Nick yells. Matt takes over on playing the game. Chris turns around and spots me.

"Baby!" He rushes me and pulls me to his body. "I missed you!" He brings me to the couch they kept in the room against the wall.

"I missed you too. What are you guys playing?" I ask, sitting down. Chris takes my legs and puts them over his lap, sitting close to the rest of my body.

"Skyrim." He answers, taking one of my aching legs into his hands and begins rubbing. I let out a hiss. "You okay, doll?"

"Yeah, just a long ass shift. So fucking tired of John." I express to him.

"Tell him to fuck off." He makes his way up my leg, working his magic hands to ease the aches throughout my leg.

"I'd like to keep my job." I roll my eyes at him.

"Really? I heard there's a position open for my stay at home cutie. Pays seventeen kisses, twenty hugs, and unlimited cuddles and hour." He switches to the other leg.

"Really now? What about health benefits? Huh?" I try to keep my voice steady through his beginning ministrations on my other leg. From the look on his face, I didn't do a great job.

"You got me there, doll." He finishes with both legs after a few minutes and leans his upper body to lay on mine. This just so happens to put his head perfectly within range of my hands.

I reach one hand up and burrow it into his hair. I place my pointer and thumb on the outer sides of his nap and begin rubbing small circles into his skin. He groans softly.

"Baby, let me take care of you." He protests.

"No, this is what I want to do. I want you to lay here against me and let me play with your hair. Please?" I throw out a pout. He huffs.

"I'm making you something to eat in a little bit." He squints at me.

"Okay, monkey." I say, driving both my hands into his hair. I rub circles across his head, then I switch to lightly tracing his scalp with my nails. He lets out the smallest whine.

I start gently moving his hair around, running my hands through it and pulling them up before slowly releasing his hair so it drops back down to his head. He practically whimpers at the sensation. "Fuck ma, feels good. You're real good at this." He moves against my hand. I giggle. In my opinion, there's nothing more relaxing than playing with my favorite boy's hair.

"Good." I say. My stomach growls loudly.

"I think it's time I go make you something to eat." Chris perks up. My shoulders drop. "Don't worry, doll. I'll carry you, and you can continue playing with my hair once you've eaten." He places a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Okay, okay." I sigh. "Come on." He smiles brightly at me. God, how did I get so lucky to have such a sweet boy?

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #fluff #sturniolo fluff

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misstycloud · 11 months

Text

Unfortunate Love

Yandere childhood friend x taken GNreader

—————

Finn took a deep breath, a poor attempt to loosen his nerves. He had all reasons to be nervous, he was finally getting to see his long-time best friend after so many years. While they did speak on the phone and spent hours sending texts back and forth between their devices, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The blonde's felt his heart thump loudly against his chest, reminding him of all those moments in their youth when he was painfully in love with his friend and they had no clue.

Hah, they still don't! (Y/n), his bestie who doesn't know how they make him feel every time they speak. (Y/n) who had no idea of the lovesick gazes he would send them whenever they weren't looking. (Y/n) who was oblivious to his feelings for years, somehow never realising despite it staring them straight in the eyes. (Y/n) who remained clueless to his despair the day they announced their relationship. (Y/n) who never saw him on the floor in his room, covered with snot and ears, desperately crying for them.

Finn dubble checked his phone to make sure he was at the right address, it would be embarrassing to hype himself up only to be met with an old lady in the doorway. Geez, he knew (Y/n) would laugh their ass of if that happened and he'd rather not be ridiculed during their first reunion in so long. He smiled at the thought, god how he loved that laugh.

His friend always complained they hated it, but he found it cute and always reassured there was nothing to be ashamed of, even if they sounded like a 'dying-elephant-choking-on-its-own-trunk-while-having-a-cold-and-birthing-a-new-elephant.'

After just a few seconds after knocking on the wooden frame, the door swung open and he laid eyes on the most important person in his life.

"Oh my god, Finn!" You exclaimed in joy at the sight. "I haven't seen you like this in ages. It's great that you could come, I can't wait to show you everything I've told you about."

He giggled at your enthusiasm, it was always like this, you lifting him up and making him see the beauty in things he would otherwise pay no mind to.

You pulled Finn inside your apartment, excited to exhibit your home to him. "We've gotten a bunch of plants- to make the air in here fresh you know- and even started our own little plantation on the balcony. There are lots up on the roof, too. It's accessible to everyone in the building so we're not the only ones doing this. Oh, and there's a pool you can use! It's awesome for parties."

As the blonde man was getting sucked into your babble, one word in your speech painfully stuck out to him: We. Oh, right. He almost forgot. Your not alone living in this home.

"(Y/n), have you seen the wine? I wanted to bring it out for when- oh!" Finn looked passed you and saw a tall, handsome brunette make his way around the corner and meet eyes with him. "Why didn't you say he arrived already?" He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Trying to make me look bad, are we?" Your boyfriend teased you.

You slapped his arm, "Of course not, just got a bit caught up in the conversation, Eric. And I put the wine in the second box in the fridge, it's behind a bunch of other stuff so it's hard to see."

"Haha, okay, was getting panicky there." Eric stepped forward to properly greet his guest. "Hey, I'm Eric as you probably already know."

"Finn." He responded dryly, but if the other man noticed, he didn't express it. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"It's fun to meet one of (Y/n)'s old friends, I know you two go way back." Ushering his partner's childhood friend further inside, he spoke, "I hope the trip wasn't too much of a hassle, wouldn't want this to be of any trouble for you."

Of course it wasn't any trouble, Finn wanted to snap. But he wasn't dumb enough to do that. He understood what would happen if he acted upon his feelings.

“No, there were no issues.”

The three of you sat down in the living room, pouring the liquid evenly and getting the conversation started. Finn found himself multiple times wanting to throw your partner against the wall. It was so unfair. Everything was. Why did Eric get to live with you and he didn't? He knew you way better than your own boyfriend. You two have been together since you were crawling around in diapers. What could possibly beat that?

He was there when you lost your first tooth. He was there when you first learned to ride a bike, when you got that job at the ice cream shop in the plaza, and moved out of your parents house. All the important moments in your life, he had been present. And what the hell has Eric done except watering some plants with you? It was laughable. Anyone could see he was not worthy of being your boyfriend. Finn would do anything for you and he doubted the same could be said for Mr. Gardner.

A part of him was ashamed at the unethical length he was willing to go, but on the other hand those feeling were washed away when he saw you beaming at him. It was all worth it if it was for you.

You and Eric were retelling funny stories of your time in the city while Finn was writhing in envy, glaring slightly in the other man's direction, not that you noticed of course. Dinner rolled around and you served your friend with great eagerness, you have been working on your culinary skills for a while now and it was time to see if the work had payed off. The brunette had endured as your Guinea pig and said it tasted good, but you insisted the true test was giving the food to someone else.

"How is it?"

Finn gasped for added affect, "It's amazing (Y/n)! You're a fantastic chef, this is definitely the best meal I've ever had." He praised, and your ego nearly boosted through the roof.

Your cheeks dusted a light pink. "Haha, well thanks. It's not that good, but I appreciate it."

The blonde man simply smiled in content. The truth was, the dish was in fact not that good. It wasn't bad by any means, however it wouldn't win any award. The past was cooked too long and the sauce had a burnt taste to it. Despite all these factors, it was without a doubt the best meal he ever had. Because it was something you had made for him with your own hands. Even the ingredients were ones you'd grown by yourself. (Partly with your sweetheart's help, but Finn pretended not to know.)

You really were his true love. Which is why it is so sad. He wasn't sure if he could love anyone other than you. After he found out about your relationship status the young man tried to make himself like someone else; not everything works out the way we wish them to and he was therefore forced to live with his unrequited love.

"Actually, there's another reason we wanted you to visit." You joyfully mentioned. "It's pretty important."

Your friend chewed his food and gave you a nod, signaling you to continue your speech. He wondered what is was. It appeared to be a big deal, but he assumed it wasn't anything bad judging from your happy expression, one that was mirroring the brunette's. A dreadful feeling formed in his gut. He didn't like this.

"Well," you started, coyly. "Me and Eric have been dating for a long time now, and we want to take the next step in our lives together."

No, he really didn't like where this was going.

"So, we made the decision to-" you could barely contain your smile, " get married!"

Something in him shattered. Married? You? To someone else. Fuck, he wanted to cry. But that would definitely set you off into a worrying mess, something he'd rather avoid. No, no , no, he thought. It can't be! Although he tried to contain his emotions as best he could, it appeared som e of it slipped passed the mask.

"Hey, you good man?" Eric asked.

This comment attracted your attention, "Huh, are you not feeling well, Finn?" Fretting over his condition only served to worsen the situation, reminding him of what he couldn't have.

In the end he had to excuse himself and lie that he did feel a bit sick, and that he had been for a while but thought he would be fine after a while. You were sad that he had to leave so soon and wished him well. Escorting him to the door, you said to him, "Sad you're not 100% top today."

"Ehehe, yeah...." he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Technically it wasn't a lie, he did want to go and bury himself in a corner, though it was for other reasons entirely.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night here, it's no problem?" Oh how good willed you were, offering up space in your home to stop your friend from having to spend money on a hotel. Normally he'd love to spend the night, this time however, he didn't believe it to be a wise idea for any of you.

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll just get a hotel room not far away and then I'll drive back home tomorrow."

"Okay, maybe we can hangout before you go if you're better tomorrow?" You asked hopefully. "Just you and me like old days."

This made him smile. Just you and him. That sounded good. He agreed to your request and hugged you goodbye for the night. You waved to him from the window when he'd made his way outside and into his car. Watching Finn drive away, you felt a hand sneak itself around your waist.

"Think he'll be alright?" A deep voice sounded from behind you.

"Yes, it'll be all fine. Nothing a goodnight's rest can't fix." You assured. Though, something about your friend's reaction didn't sit right with you. He should be over the moon of your engagement, he seemed nothing like that. If anything, he looked...pained?

//////

Back in the car, the volume from the speakers were loud enough to burst one's eardrums. But that didn't matter the the driver. No he had a lot more to think about. The blaring music did nothing to ease the pain or distract him, which left him misrable.

Why the hell did you have to get engaged. Couldn't you have been fine as it was. Now, it was more serious than ever. In the beginning, he had actually hoped that you would eventually break up. That wouldn't happen now. Now it was legit. Legal papers and documents and everything. What was next on the list, kids?

Finn heaved a heavy breath, releasing a mix between a gurgle and sob. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he slowed the vehicle to a stop by the deserted road. The darkness kept people from seeing his sorry state; not that there were any out to begin with. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he yelled his pain.

Why do love hurt so much?

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creedslove · 6 months

Text

RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨

Marcus Pike x f!reader

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

Summary: you and Marcus had a brief but loving marriage, until it wasn't anymore. Choosing an amicable divorce you both moved on with your lives until destiny made you run into each other once more, with a difference this time: your ex-husband was engaged now

Warnings: mentions of divorce, a little bit of angst, fluff, some jealousy, age gap (their ages are not specified but he's 10 years older than her)

A/N: besties, I'm so happy I finally managed to write something for our husband Pike. I've always wanted to do so, but I knew I couldn't just force myself into it otherwise it wouldn't work properly, and just like that, this idea came up and I couldn't get it out of my mind ❤️ also, I know some people don't like age gap, but I can't imagine reader being Marcus age mostly because reader is me 🥴 and also because it would make sense to the story, so although it's not specified, I pictured them getting married around early 20s(reader) early 30s (Pike) and running into each other again around late 20s/early 30s (reader) and late 30s/early 40s (Pike)

3.9k words

You weren't fond of getting married young, to you, it sounded nothing like madness, as you simply couldn't wrap your head around the fact that people often abdicated from their lives, plans and dreams to get stuck in a relationship. It made no sense to you, especially since you had been working your ass off during all your years in college, the prospect of having a successful and promising career motivated you to go after your dreams. Relationships, marriages, building up families hadn't crossed your mind at all, a little affair with a cute guy here and there were the only things that ever got remotely close to dating, at the same time you only saw yourself as someone who wouldn't settle down.

And that was before Marcus Pike walked into your life.

If someone asked you to explain what exactly happened, perhaps you wouldn't be able to understand it yourself let alone explain it to someone, but that man swept you off your feet. You'd met him during a history of art lecture at campus one Thursday evening. He had just joined the FBI in the art department, fresh in his new job but still assisting his former professor and mentor in college lectures. He was probably ten or so years older than you, and yet, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was by far the most handsome man you'd seen in those four long years you'd spent in that institution, there was something so captivating in his beautiful eyes, his breathtaking smile and how smart and sweet he was towards anyone. And he caught you staring; it seemed you took his attention as much as he took yours, and even if you needed that lecture for extra credit, you couldn't give a single crap about medieval art, because that man was everything you could see in front of you. That was so unlike your personality, usually, you'd be focused on everything else, but you simply couldn't look away from that handsome assistant.

When the lecture was finally over, you were sure you'd missed at least half of it, being too busy concentrating on someone else instead of the subject, you still had a few doubts about the matter and you walked to the stage, willing to ask the professor some questions and clarify any doubts you had, and that was the moment you both locked eyes for the first time. The handsome guy that caught your attention, whose name was Marcus, soon found out the moment you shook hands and realized how big his was compared to yours and how truly handsome he was, even more so than you had already noticed when you were a few meters away. He was also mesmerized by you and he couldn't hide it, he knew you were younger than him, but at that moment all he could process was how gorgeous and smart that girl was in front of him. He kept around while you talked to his mentor, being polite enough not to interrupt him but holding himself back so he wouldn't add his own comments. He just wanted an excuse to talk to you, see if he could approach and see where things could go, so the moment he had the opportunity to be with you alone for a while, he immediately threw his charms - and Marcus was a charming guy - in your first conversation you liked how intelligent and nice he was, he made you laugh and when he invited you to have pancakes some dinner nearby the campus, you couldn't say no.

And that was the beginning of your love story.

Everything you believed went through the roof from the moment you met Marcus. He was incredible, the most fascinating man you'd met and whereas he was older than you, that only seemed to spice things up both in the sexual and emotional sense. You had never been treated like that before, he made you feel like a queen, as cheesy as it may sound, that's just how you felt through your relationship with Marcus. He was a gentleman, sweet and he didn't know what to do in order to please you; he went slowly at first, even if his intentions were clear from the very first time you went out to eat, he was a little afraid you would be weirded out by him, and he couldn't be further from the truth. Each time he took you out on a date, it felt like you were living the plot of any sweet but cliche rom com movie. It felt just too good to be true and a part of you feared that it wouldn't work. But it did, for as long as it lasted.

The dates with Marcus were so special, he was thoughtful and he always made sure to take you somewhere nice; it was either a nice restaurant so you could get to know their different menu, or art galleries in which he would show you his favorite works and tell you as much as you wanted to hear about them. He was always afraid of boring you with his subjects but on the contrary, you always enjoyed listening to him talk, it was entertaining, soothing and you could spend hours watching how his eyes sparkled whenever he addressed anything he truly enjoyed. And even if he put some effort into them, your favorite date by far was whenever you two would spend some time just hanging out together in his apartment. Dim lights, old movies on TV and Marcus' protective grip around your body, always pulling you closer and making sure you were warm in his embrace for the rest of the night.

The first kiss you shared with him after you both went to the movies together. It was a classic movie rerun and even if Casablanca wasn't your favorite, you knew he enjoyed it, and seeing it on a big screen was definitely a nice experience. Besides, he promised you that once Titanic hit the theaters in the next classic session, he would definitely take you.

At the end of the movie, you walked out the theater holding hands, you were silent, but instead of reflecting over the story you'd just watched you reflected over your relationship with Marcus; you were falling deeper and deeper for him, deeper and more intensely than you ever thought you would, and when he stopped and placed your hands on your hips you couldn't resist being kissed by him.

It felt right.

The first night you both spent together was right after he took you to see the concert of his former band; he'd left the band when he graduated from college, but he still remained friends with the guys and eventually enjoyed visiting them on stage. And that night he insisted on taking his bass for a last ride and even risked a song on the microphone, all of that for you.

By then, there was no fighting or convincing otherwise, you were head over heels for Marcus; especially when you two had sex for the first time after that. One could think Marcus is too soft, but not when it comes to that; he knows how to act, how to please and how to demand what he wants and after you tried him, a real man, there was no way you could go back to college boys ever again.

Your relationship evolved fast and in less than a year he proposed to you; he was sure you were what he wanted in the future, just as you had thrown away all your beliefs and you'd surrounded yourself completely to the man you loved, so you said yes. Even if your whole life you said you wouldn't get married, not while young at least, not without having a consistent, successful career.

And there you were, fresh out of college, with very little work experience, a job in an area you didn't want but had to take in order to gather experience and knowledge and walking down the aisle in a white dress, feeling as happy as you could be, in order to become Mrs.Pike. The honeymoon had to be in Paris, a few people told you that couldn't be more cliche, and even if they meant it out of spite or if they were actually right, it didn't really matter to you; it felt so right for the two of you. Surrounded by art constantly during the day and making love at night, it was like a dream coming true, and you remember hoping your entire marriage would be like that: light, fun, full of love and happiness. And it was until it wasn't anymore.

You couldn't tell exactly when things started to go downhill, but if you had to guess, it would probably be due to the lack of time you both faced towards the end of your relationship. It just started getting harder after about a year, when the two of you really began struggling for your own careers. You, in your area, and Marcus with the FBI, it seemed to have become an obsession for you both, as date nights, walks in the park and gallery visitations simply stopped happening in order to focus on your extra tasks, overtime, solving cases. At some point it became a looping of excuses and promises to spend more time together:

"We'll go next weekend honey"

"We can have dinner together tomorrow"

"I promise I'll take you with me next time"

Needless to say, they never truly happened.

Just as you two distanced yourselves without even realizing, the bickering also started, adding another venomous sting to your relationship. Suddenly, small things turned into bigger ones, sources of stress and fights; if someone ever told you one day you'd have heated arguments with Marcus over a dropped sock, or an unwashed plate on the sink, you would call them crazy, but when that unfortunately happened to the two of you, you were shocked for a while, not believing you had become the kind of couple to argue over stupid things like those. It was heartbreaking. As you two barely had time for each other, sex was also off the table most nights, being too tired to do anything else other than sleep, Marcus suddenly came up with the idea of having a baby; he had a deep hope of fixing your marriage by getting you pregnant, after all, having kids had always been part of his plan and he was sure it was part of yours too.

At the same time you hadn't really thought it through. Technically, you had. You wanted kids. At some point, in the future, it wasn't rocket science to figure that adding a baby to a troubled marriage could not be the best idea. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, not when you saw the spike of excitement in his eyes, not when he held you and kissed you like in the beginning of your relationship, how he made time for you even if his FBI work was killing him, he still managed to bring you flowers, kiss you and made love to you. Perhaps he was trying to save your marriage, or he was just trying for the baby, you weren't so sure, but you could see the effort. And it was why it broke your heart to know you couldn't get pregnant at that moment, not with your job finally taking you places, the new opportunity of actually building a career and how young you still thought you were, being married was hard, but it was about you and Marcus, two adults who could handle yourselves but a baby? It was way too much responsibility. You couldn't find a way to tell him that, even if you were being a coward, it pained you you felt so hopeless to simply lie to Marcus and tell him you'd stopped taking your birth control pills, and even more so each time he looked at you with those disappointed, sad eyes, month after month of excitement and longing for that baby to be there, just to get a negative test after another. It was eating you up alive and after his insistence on taking you to a doctor - which you immediately refused - he managed to find your hidden stash of pills among your stuff. You tried explaining everything to him; how you weren't ready, you were scared and how broken you'd been at seeing him so upset. You cried, you opened your heart to Marcus and told him you wanted to be a mom to his child, some day, not at that moment, but in the future because things were finally working for the two of you once more. But you had lied to your husband, and lying to Marcus had no turning back.

He had no other option other than asking for a divorce after you lied and broke his heart, he felt upset, he could've forgiven you for many things, but not for playing with his heart when it came to the kids he dreamed of every single day.

You were tired, upset and at some point during your divorce process you'd convinced yourself you didn't love him anymore, but the reality was that you were just so empty you weren't able to feel things, you were numb.

The day you both signed the divorce papers in front of your lawyer and you were questioned whether you two wanted to go ahead with that decision, your heart shattered into a million pieces, more than any fights, when you heard Marcus' justification to why he was asking for the divorce.

"I'd rather get divorced while still loving you, than remaining together and risking to hate you"

When you heard those words, you had a sudden urge to get up and tear those papers into pieces, tell him you were both making a huge mistake, that toyover him and that you could make it work, you wanted to tell him you still had a beautiful future ahead of you, you and the gorgeous family you would have together. And the moment you took a deep breath to finally say all that out loud, you looked at Marcus signing the papers and officializing the divorce.

That was the last time you saw your ex-husband Marcus Pike, you just had no idea the next time you would run into him again would be in a few years later, while he was taking his new fiancee on a date.

•••

Marcus sighed as he could see the lack of excitement in Teresa's face the moment they got to the exhibit, he just didn't know why she agreed to go out with him if she didn't like it, it would be so much easier for the two of them if she was honest and told him she'd rather stay home and read a magazine, that way they would both be happy, and Marcus wouldn't have the feeling he was trying too hard all the time. Teresa liked him, she must have liked him, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his proposal and moved to DC with him. It was still early, she'd been there for a few weeks but he was confident things would work. He was hitting his forties now, one divorce, no kids and even if he finally got the position he had not only dreamed of but also worked so hard for in his dream job, he still felt something was missing. It took him a failed marriage to realize that money wasn't everything he needed, he simply missed the family he never had.

When he found Teresa he was still trying to pick the pieces of his heart, still trying to make things work on his own and when he saw her - an attractive, mature and intelligent woman, he thought that maybe he wouldn't be alone this time. You'd been the love of his life, he was convinced of that, but you two had gone way too fast and too intense, you were still young, you had so much to live so it made sense to him he would let you go and be free. He vowed himself not to rush into things, but this time it wasn't his choice, he was liking Teresa more and more and even if they weren't compatible most of the time, but when the opportunity of a lifetime came up he had to take his chances and she'd said yes. Still a little unsure and divided between him and Jane, but she said yes.

As they walked through the exhibit, he paid close attention to all the beautiful paintings scattered around the long hallways. He loved that atmosphere, the pictures so beautifully made by talented hands years or sometimes centuries ago.

"So it's just flowers?!" Teresa broke the silence as she looked around unimpressed and dragged his attention back to reality

"It's not just flowers, it's Monet… don't you like it? You told me you liked his paintings on our first date.." Marcus stated confused until the realization that she was just lying so she wouldn't appear ignorant or perhaps try to impress him a little. He saw how she cleared her throat and tried fixing what she just said but he stopped listening the moment he caught a glimpse of someone else crossing the same room and standing next to Rouen Cathedral, admiring it intently. He didn't even need to look twice to know it was you. You, who always loved that painting, even if it wasn't Monet's best in your ex-husband's opinion, you who had a fascination with old constructions such as cathedrals and would always snap several pictures of them, you, who was never exceptional at art but managed to get by and eventually fell more and more in love with art because of Marcus, not because you wanted to impress him or have him thinking you were smart, but because he actually made you see why he had that passion for it. And the moment that you turned around, his heart skipped a beat.

You looked the same, and yet, you also managed to look even more beautiful; more mature, more confident in yourself and for a brief moment Marcus was frozen in time, it was just like the first time he saw you, in which he could only see you in front of him and nothing else. He had no idea you still had that effect on him, it was so unusual and surprising and even if he had stalked your social media profiles here and there over the course of your separation, even if he wasn't proud of it, it was completely different than seeing you right there in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, should he approach you? Talk to you? Pretend he didn't see you?

However, he didn't time to think any further about it, not when you turned around and spotted him, your eyes widening at the moment you saw him. Much to your surprise your heart also raced at the sight of your ex-husband. Was it your mind playing tricks or was he even more handsome? You hadn't planned on approaching him, but you felt as if you were being taken involuntarily towards him.

"Marcus?! Hi!" You said with a sweet smile as he politely greeted you, expressing how surprised he was to see you and even more so to actually talk to you

"Wow, you look great… So beautiful" he smiled as you blushed softly and giggled

"You too, still very handsome… so what brings you to D-" you interrupted by a woman who walked in and wrapped her arm around his waist. She eyed you up and down, even if she still tried to be polite and discreet about it. You swallowed hard feeling awkward and Marcus turned to the other woman

"This is Teresa, my fiancee and this is my ex-wife" he cleared his throat as he said your name and Teresa simply nodded her head. You returned the gesture and the moment you meant to ask him a question she barged in

"You're his ex-wife? But you're so young…" you could see the light pink spreading through his cheek and groaned at how dumb she really was.

"Yeah, I'm younger than him… and are you a little older than Marcus?" You returned the sting with the same amount of poison and she scoffed, looking at him and groaned

"I'll go to the restroom" she said without looking into your eyes and walked away, making you chuckle as Marcus shot you a questioning look which you just shrugged and went back to the question that was lingering on your mind

"So, what are you doing here in DC? Having a romantic getaway or vacations?"

"Actually, I've moved here after I was promoted to the head of the new art department" he said with his typical smile and you could see how his eyes crinkled, your heart warming up as you expressed genuine surprise and happiness to know that. You were a witness to how hard he had worked for that and it just filled your heart with pride to know he made it. You weren't sure how to act, perhaps it wasn't right, but you had already wrapped your arms around his neck and given him probably the tightest hug you'd ever done. Even if it was brief, you couldn't help but feel how built up he was, how stronger he'd become and his characteristic scent made you so warm on the inside, it felt like you could've stayed forever in his embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Marcus! Honestly, you deserve it! I know I haven't been the most supportive wife and I'm very sorry about everything that happened, I should've been nicer to you, but well, all I'm trying to say is that I'm so proud of you!"

You said wholeheartedly and even if there were so many other things you needed to tell him, you knew it wasn't the right time and place. He just smiled and nodded, taking your hands into his big ones and thanking you for the support.

"Do you think we could grab a coffee or something? Just catch up?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know if it's a good idea, I mean, I can tell Teresa isn't my biggest fan and being honest with you, I wouldn't like my fiance's ex-wife around very much, but it's amazing to see you Marcus, truly, it makes me glad to know you are somewhat closer" you smiled again but let go of his hands the moment Teresa returned. Once more she just lingered around him, almost territorial as if she wanted to show you who owned Marcus. He also felt that, and it made him quite uncomfortable, so he cleared his throat and looked at you, saying goodbye and explaining they had dinner reservations.

As you watched them both leave, you felt a pang in your chest, thinking of the wonderful place he was probably taking her, the elaborate dates he had planned, the beautiful family they would probably build together. It could've been you, it was you for a while, unlike he might have thought you wanted all that with him, but it took you a divorce to realize it was a situation of the right person, wrong time. Perhaps if you tried again, it would work, you would like it to work, but Marcus had moved on, found himself someone he cared about and you had no right to break his heart and ruin his happiness once more.

____

A/N: my besties, I really hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is just a one-shot or if there'll be a continuation but I am so happy how this turned out. I love Marcus and I'm so happy our handsome FBI boyfriend finally got his own piece here! ❤️ remember that feedback is life, I'd love to hear what you all thought of it ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike one shot

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yuna542 · 1 year

Text

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 5 <-

Part 6

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, under 18 DNI!, Smut, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Fingering, Dry humping, mentions of sex, pet names

Word Count: 3k

Note: Yea… What can I say? Lee Know was my first Kpop Crush, so I really put my soul into this. So hear me out: I thought since your feedback is incredible, I wanted to give you something back. If you want to you can write suggestions/requests in the comments or dm me about what you'd like to read in the parts. If I like it I will think of something and include it in the story! So feel free to tell me your dirty (or sweet) little fantasies xD

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

"I finally want to see you dance live!", grumbled Lee Know as you emailed him his schedule for the day in the practice room.

"Maybe someday", you muttered as you skimmed over your messages.

“Stupid JYP with those stupid rules”, he sighed and you had to grin. You'd love to dance and maybe even do a livestream with Minho but the company probably wouldn't allow it. The Stream with Hyunjin was a spontaneous idea and you were sincerely happy that yet nobody from JYP had talked about it to you. You didn’t even know if they maybe had a talk with Hyunjin and you were sure, that he definitely wouldn’t tell you to protect you.

However one of the most important meetings was scheduled for this afternoon.

A meeting with a potential new sponsor and at the same time producer for the first music video of the comeback. So one of the most important meetings ever.

The first video had to work the way the guys imagined it and it was your job to make it work. It was essential that the new sponsor was on board.

To say you're nervous would be a massive understatement.

It was the first big meeting that you would have to do alone with Chan. Seungmin would also accompany you, which took some of the pressure off your shoulders. This was one thing you just couldn't mess up.

You just wanted to send Lee Know his appointments for today and skim them quick with him. The tasks consisted the meeting with a new choreographer and then discussing with DanceRacha whether their ideas for the choreography for the big video could be done as they wanted it or if they needed to work on it even more.

Hyunjin and Felix had both already written in your group chat that they were here at any moment and Jeongin was with them. As you walked into the room, Minho seemed to have been dancing all morning.

There were fine drops of sweat on his forehead and yet his skin was just glowing with freshness. Just like perfectly worked marble.

"The choreographer's name is Chun De-Jeong. His application was the most impressive and he has very good references. He sounded nice on the phone, too. But if you don't like something about him, just let me know and we'll find someone new”, you explained expertly and he smiled slightly.

"You really are the best manager we've ever had."

"I try my best", you replied, and that's when he sat down next to you on the sofa.

With that, you finished discussing his schedule as well.

"I've never seen you in a dress like that before...", he mused aloud, and right away you were tugging at the hem of the white fabric on your thigh.

"Is it too much? Do you think it would be better if I change?"

Concerned, you stroke the fine roses printed on the fabric. Directly, Lee Know shook his head, regretting his words.

"No. It's perfect. You are... It looks very cute. You look very beautiful", he said quickly, stumbling over his own words.

Actually, he couldn't take his eyes off the thin fabric the whole time, where it perfectly hugged your curves and sat firmly against your waist. Exploring your profile, Minho noticed from the moment you came in that you seemed tense and restless today.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Quickly nodding, you shove your Ipad into your handbag next to the sofa.

"Yeah... Everything's fine. I'm just a little nervous about the meeting today."

"With that spoiled ass sponsor?"

You nodded again, kneading your hands restlessly in your lap. Carefully he puts one hand on yours and managed to cover both of your cramped hands with his.

Instead of a joke or a mean comment that you would have expected, his voice softened and he squeezed your hands reassuringly.

"You don't have to be nervous. Business people like that are often strange and not exactly sociable. They are assholes, but you're so adorable that he surely won’t refuse any of your wishes."

A worried sigh wrings itself from your throat and you finally managed to look him in the eye. Only now did he recognize the great concern on your face and moved instantly closer to you.

"What if I don't? What if I mess up and you lose a major sponsor because of me? They will fire me..."

His chocolate brown eyes seemed protective, eyeing you with such confidence that you wanted to snuggle up to him. He placed his other hand on your thigh and gently stroked it.

"You won't mess up. And even if it won't work out, we'll find another sponsor."

A soft laugh escaped you as he quoted you, and he too smiled in relief when he saw that energetic sparkle in your eyes again.

Minho was suddenly so gentle and caring in a way you had never witnessed. In front of the others, he always tried to appear tough and untouchable, always had a cheeky comment on his lips and seemed to let nothing upset him.

But right now his other side appeared. His touches were careful on your skin, as if he feared to break you and he was full of care. It’s a side of him that he reserved just for you.

You intertwined your hand with his and squeezed it gently. As you did so, your thighs were tight against each other and he gave you endless confidence with just that. He believed in you and that alone was such a big ego boost.

Your heart began to melt and your eyes were automatically on his engaging lips.

"Thank you Lino. That really helped. I didn’t know you could be so soft.”

Suddenly his facial expression changed. He looked confused, as if he had woken up from a dream, and quickly smiled again in amusement.

"That being said, you have Chan with you. He's gotten each of us out of trouble several times."

There he was again. The tough Lee Know, and he wondered to himself why he had suddenly gone so soft. It was your mere presence that made him protective. He enjoyed feeling your warm skin and seeing the happy twinkle in your beautiful eyes.

In fact, he managed to make you laugh again and it sounded better than music to his ears.

"Don't worry too much. We definitely won't give you back, kitten."

His hand squeezed your own protectively and it touched you that he dropped his walls in front of you. Without thinking, you leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

You just could not have expressed your gratitude with words.

However, he froze completely and before you could pull away, he grabbed your face rougher than he wanted to. Firmly, he pulled you closer and it took you a few seconds to realise that his lips were already on yours.

Overwhelmed, you clenched your hands until you could feel his pleasant grip on your hip. The other hand was on your cheek and when you finally understood, you put all the desire and concern into the kiss.

At first he was slow, savoring every second until he took your lower lip between his teeth and let his tongue brush over it. As soon as you opened your lips a little, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss with his whole body.

He seemed like an addict who couldn't get enough and became more and more impetuous. He tasted like a heady mix of sweet strawberries and spicy mint.

Finally he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you onto his lap, where he didn't stop licking his tongue into your mouth. Your hands went into his hair and tugged on his strands. His hands went on a ramble, pushing your dress up until he could firmly grip your ass.

A small squeak of pain escaped you as he squeezed tightly and you felt the corners of his mouth lift at your lips despite your eyes being closed.

"You even purr like a little kitten", he growled and you were completely caught in a trance of arousal and passion as he began to spread wet kisses on your collarbone. He sucked on your skin and pushed you demanding against his lap.

The little sighs and your tensed face made the blood rush between his legs and he wanted to fuck you right there against the couch. But he also loved to tease you until you would whimper and beg him to fuck you senseless. That made the painful erection in his pants much more worth it. His hand lightly brushed your thigh dangerously close to your core.

His tongue licked along your collarbone, down to your cleavage, where he slowly pulled the fabric down and worked on your soft skin so intensely with his mouth that you feared just coming from it on his lap.

The bruises Hyunjin had sucked into your skin were almost gone and Minho wanted to make sure, to mark you again so that the other members would see it. He wanted them to know that you were already his little toy and that they had to make a great effort, to get to him.

Overwhelmed, you felt his bulge feel frighteningly large beneath you and immediately you wanted to see if it was really as immense as it felt on your covered pussy. The straps of your white dress fell off your shoulders and Minho's hands kneaded the flesh on your ass so hard that you would definitely get bruises. But that only fueled the arousal in your whole body.

"Admit it, Kitten! You only put on that cute slutty dress to drive me crazy!", he murmured against your skin, and everything about him made you dizzy. A hard hiss escaped him and he looked up at you with an exited bliss in his eyes.

“Damn didn’t thought you’re so fucking needy, Baby.”

With questioning eyes you let your fingers go trough his soft hair.

“What?”

“You’re grinding on me”, he explained and kissed the heated skin of your almost bare tits.

Suddenly, you became aware of your own body, feeling him underneath you and trying to feel as much of him as you can. You feel pleasant heat spread through your body, pooling together between your legs where you were far too effected by the feeling of his erection beneath you and somehow you still couldn’t make yourself stop, even though he looked at you with a teasing smile.

“Oh god. I’m sorry”, you murmured against his neck, but then, you felt his hands wrap around your hips further, fingers digging into the side of your ass, and you realised he’s helping you guide your hips.

He smelled so good that you just couldn’t stop rolling your hips against his.

“No need to apologise. That’s so fucking hot”, he growled and pulled your chin back, to kiss you deeply, while he pushed you even further against his hard bulge.

”That’s it, there you go“, he said softly as you moan into his mouth and started to move your hips against his length and you couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering, when the only thing between your clit and his dick was the thin fabric of your clothes.

Suddenly his voice is right by your ear and snaps you out of your aroused trance, so close it sends shivers down your spine:

”You should have told me you like dry humping my dick this much. Fuck, it makes me so hard, can you feel that, kitten?“

You could just nod and get flustered by his words.

Your behaviour was so messy and desperate, even Minho started to lose himself and he kissed you as if he’s never kissed before. It’s more tongue and teeth than needed, tasting you and moaning into your mouth when your tongue meets his. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Someone could come in an catch you, how you pounce on each other like heated teenagers, but the hurried kisses make your head feel like it’s spinning.

It hasn’t been long, you know that, but you’re already started to get close. Like with Hyunjin, you felt things that you never had experienced before. There was something about these boys that made you go crazy and they definitely knew what they were doing.

Even though your underwear and his sweatpants were seperating you from feeling him, there was something so intense about this and about Minho that it hardly mattered, and you knew it won’t be long until he would get you making a mess in your panties.

Unable to keep up with how good it felt, luckily Minho still had a hold on you, and when he noticed that it’s getting more difficult for you to keep composed, he gripped your flesh even harder.

Embarrassed you hid your face in the crook of his neck as he guided you by the hips harder and harder against his hard dick. With one hand he pulled you back by the nape of the neck so that you had to look at him while you dry humped him like a kitty in heat.

"No hiding! I wanna see every adorable flustered expression you make!”, he demanded with a harsh tone, both of you trying to pull the other closer for more stimulation. Your hands still groped and scratched at eachothers skin as you desperately grinded on eachother.

He slipped one hand to your throbbing cunt and started to circle your clit, while you tried to get more friction. He was so hard by now that your mere movements on his dick almost made him come. But he did force himself to calm down because he just wanted to work you to an orgasm and see your beautiful face tensed with desire just for him.

”Don’t stop!“, he ordered and his harsh tone made you whimper.

”I want you to be good and cum for me like this, okay? Can you do that, kitten?“

As soon as he hit the sensitive part of your clit directly with his fingers, a naughty moan escaped you and you started to ride your cunt so hard against his cock that you had to claw your fingernails into his back.

“Fuck… Minho”, you cried and couldn’t think of something else than your high which was announced by the tremendous heat in your lower abdomen.

"Aw, you like that, baby?", he chirped with a growl and guided your hips so that he would still hit all your sweet spots through the fabric. You nodded, unable to speak, rocking your hips even harder against him and his fingers.

He pushed his fingers against your clit and noticed how your body tensed. Directly he accelerated the intensity and held your face tightly again with one hand in front of his so he could look at your teary eyes, swollen lips and aroused expression as he worked you to your orgasm with just the snapping of his hips and his hand. You wanted him as close as possibly and somehow this, his mouth mere millimeters from yours, swallowing your breath, wasn’t enough.

“I’m gonna cum…”, you whimpered and he hold your face even rougher, digging his fingernails into your soft cheeks.

“Look how easy it is to turn you into the neediest, sluttiest mess, kitten”, he growled and pressed you firmly onto his throbbing dick. The wet spot on his pants was already as big as a hand, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh I can’t wait to fuck that soaked little cunt till you cry my name all night!“

Your hands clawed for some type of, literally any, support on his shoulders while he grabbed your ass harsh.

„Be a good little slut and come for me!“, he demanded and his words twisted your mind.

Eventually you got so caught up in the moment you won’t even were able to stay focused on talking, and he started thrusting up, meeting your hips so you didn’t have to do any work. It’s this that finally does it for you, his hands holding you and his hips meeting yours and you automatically imagine how he would fuck you like this. You wanted more and more, caught up in his scent, his words and his body and finally your orgasm crashed over you.

He helped you to ride your high out and gently brushed his hand over your back.

"Feel better now?", he asked and kissed each corner of your mouth.

„Yes… Thank you, Minho.“

A little huff escaped your lips, while you still rubbed your overstimulated pussy against his length. The friction felt too good to stop, even though your soaked cunt was now extremely sensitive. He laughed lightly and ran his hands through your hair as you let your lips brush over his neck

„Greedy but polite. I like that“, he teased and kneaded your ass again. He couldn’t get enough of the perfect curves and the softness of your skin against his fingertips.

„I want you to fuck me, Minho“, you mumbled against his skin and kissed the sensitive spot on his neck beneath his ear. He instantly got goosebumps and in response he moved your hips again more firmly against his now painful hard length.

He would not and could not wait any longer. He longed to sink into your wet core and fuck you so hard until you begged him to stop. Therefore, he reached for his waistband and pulled it down. With a liberated gasp, his boner popped out and you had to bite your lower lip when you realized that it was even bigger than it had felt through the fabric. He would split you open, but you didn't care. Impatiently he pushed your panties aside and as he slipped into your aching core with just the tip, you already felt, how he stretched you out. Slowly you grinded your hips against his, gasping as only his tip filled you painfully good.

You were so dizzy that you almost didn't notice how the door to the practice room were opened and Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Felix walked in.

It wasn't until Minho glanced over your shoulder in annoyance. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the boys staring at you over your shoulder.

Hyunjin looked at you with a amused, yet unsurprised grin. Felix stared open-mouthed at your naked ass with the white thong on that Minho still had a firm grip on, and Jeongin looked perplexed but definitely aroused by the way you ass was wiggling and grinding against his friends dick.

In fact, the three were more than grateful to have burst into this situation.

"Can't you knock?", Minho spat at them, leaning his forehead against the crook of your neck to breathe in your sweet scent once more. His tip was already in your cunt and he considered, if he should just don‘t give a fuck about the others and push himself all the way into you. If he did that, he'd probably fuck you in front of them too. He already had to fight against his desire but your shocked face made him weak.

Hectically, you tugged your dress back down and adjusted the straps on your shoulders, while he slowly slipped out of you and tugged his dick into his pants.

"We've been knocking, calling and messaging", Felix said meekly, unable to get the image of Minho's hands all over you out of his head and immediately imagining what it would be like to have you sitting on his lap like that, riding his dick and moaning his name.

He cleared his throat and stared at the floor, trying not to get a boner in front of everyone like a needy little schoolboy.

"Yeah... but you seem to have been too busy. Obviously…”, Hyunjin said and his smile was breathtaking.

Minho let you off his lap only after a short resistance and cursed his members quietly. Jeongin was still frozen, looking at you as if you had just flown from heaven to earth.

Embarrassed, you fixed your hair, not resisting Hyunjin's intense gaze. To Felix, you almost wanted to apologize as his head glowed so much you could barely distinguish it from the red walls.

"You guys have to fuck everything up", Lee Know grumbled, leaning forward so they couldn't see the wet spot and the huge bulge in his sweatpants directly.

"We're really sorry, but we need you, Lino. We need to finally start working the choreography out."

Even though Hyunjin's eyes continued to rest on your boobs, he spoke normally to Minho. Gradually, your heartbeat calmed down and you tried to ignore what just happened. They almost caught you, fucking in the practice room. Anyone could have come in but Minho didn’t seem to care at all.

"You look stunning by the way, Jagi", Hyunjin said then and pulled you close to his chest. With his hands lingering on your back, he kissed you quickly. He just couldn’t resist you. The kiss was short but intense and you returned his smile with rosy cheeks.

"Yes. The dress is beautiful on you", Felix agreed and his cuteness sent butterflies in your stomach.

"Thank you. You guys are really sweet."

Jeongin still couldn't get a word out and shoved his hands into his pockets. Suddenly, you remembered something.

Panicking, you searched your phone in your bag and almost had a second heart attack as you read first the time and then Chan's messages where he asked when you guys are going to meet to prepare for the meeting.

"Shit!" you cursed, gathering your things. Along the way, you slipped on your Converse Chucks that you had left by the sofa.

"I have to go see Chan right now. Do you know where he is?"

Hyunjin shrugged and connected his phone to the stereo.

"He was still here this morning", Lee Know said from behind you.

Felix nodded and Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder briefly and replied:

"Yes, but left again around 10 o'clock."

Then Jeongin said:

"He was just at the dorm."

„Okay, Well shit. I'll go there then. We have the meeting in an hour. Fucking hell..."

As you storm out, a few more not so ladylike curses slipped out, due to the stress. The guys looked after you and Hyunjin sighed loudly.

"Is it just me, or is she even outrageously hot when she curses like a sailor?"

Lee Know snorted in amusement and the other two could only agree. Then Hyunjin looked back at Lee Know with a knowing grin.

Still irritated, he snapped at him:

"What?"

Hyunjin pouted his lips and shook his head defensively.

"Nothing. Just wondering why you decided to fuck her in the practice room, in the middle of the day, where anyone could have come in.“

„Thanks to you I didn't even get to fuck her yet“, he said sourly and the boys knew, that Lee Know would go hard on them today. He almost were able to fuck the hottest girl he ever met, and of course his stupid members had to screw it up.

"The choreographer is here“, Felix said, glancing at his phone.

"Do you want me to bring him in? He's been waiting for a while", Jeongin asked, to which Lee Know stood up, his hands in front of the big tent in his pants.

"Tell him he'll have to wait a few more minutes if he doesn't want to blow me."

Felix pressed his lips together and Jeongin looked at him in amazement, while Hyunjin laughed. As the door slammed shut behind Lee Know, Jeongin said monotonously:

"I definitely won't tell him that."

-> Part 7

——————————————————————-

Taglist (open):

@poisonivy21 @elizalabs3 @chartrucewhore @smutlemononeshot @froggiiimushroom @hgema @bookwyrm28 @gemini-demon @jeongchaos @nxahlxl @jihanlovic @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sassysausage2023 @marked-unknown @jannesti @yuhjoeyuh @bakedlilgoonie @thatgirlangelb @itstorimf @eastleighsblog @toomuchtellyneck @hanjiseoul @bandolls @queenyal @ashkeyboo72898 @ana-stasssiaaa @bossy-baby-jongho @galaxypox @n034sy @manns4005 @amara-mars @purple-belle @amararosesblog @tori719 @rindomo @freakinthesheets-excelexcel @sujurunaway @slay36queen @strawberry31 @niaalove @crazyllamasurfer @luunaruwu @jenseok17 @mariegalea @kimseungminsprincess @julciaqwerty @officialshania @whore4stucky9104 @foxinnie8 @i-dont-know-me-either @sirenthalia @jeonnginns @uno7 @mixling-blog @httpsmultifandom @spookysins @hyunlixwife @eastleighsblog @tuttifrutt01 @tzalethhwang @queenofdragons12 @elieli0001 @fixation-dump

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the-s1lly-corner · 11 months

Text

How they deal with outliving you

Some angst I've been having on the brain; particularly for the characters that dont age/live for a long time + adding a new character to the base list!!

Obvious CW for loss of a loved one/partner + the grief that comes with it, cause of d3ath across all is by natural causes

S/o is mortal, of course

Slenderman;

Considering the fact that he's an ancient creature that's existed for lord knows how long, it was inevitable that he would outlive you

The concept of you one day being gone was something he already thought about before pursuing you romantically

I feel like out of all the ones on this list, he's the most calm about it, he isn't obviously broken up about the loss

That's not to say he doesn't care; he does. You were very likely his first love; and you will likely be his only love. It'd be a different story if your life was snatched away by someone else; but if it were something natural like for these scenarios, he grieves quietly. In fact, deaths in his woods temporarily slow down during this period

He has a designated area in the woods dedicated to you; flowers, pretty rocks, mementos, etcetera

He does 'guard' over your old home, for a while. That's likely the most drastic thing he'd do; he can't bare the idea of someone taking your place when the wound is still so fresh

Splendorman;

How ironic to add in this new character; someone so bubbly and sweet, with a prompt so... sad..

He doesn't handle it as smoothly as slenderman does; he's an absolute wreck. You were his absolute favorite person in the whole wide world, and just like that, you were gone

Is visibly wilted for a long time after your passing; only really putting on his usual happy face when he's needed

He cries, loudly, and he almost looks lost as he sits; almost as if he's awaiting your return

He understands mortality and the concept of death, but he never prepared himself for this

How could loving someone hurt so bad?

He talks about you to everyone who'll listen; both so he doesn't ever forget you, and so others can hear how amazing he thought you were

I like to think that when you were alive he gave you flowers... daisies, probably... he always keeps a daisy on him; either pinned to his coat or hat

Laughing Jack;

Denial

Denial. It will take him so so so long to finally come to terms that you'll never be coming back

He sprials; at first selfishly believing that you had purposefully abandoned him.. and given his past with being forgotten; he first responds with rage... before fully caving in on himself

Rumors are spread in town that your old house is haunted; thanks to Jack's howling cries

Hoards a lot of your belongings

It takes him a while to recover; and he's more irritable after all is said and done

Eyeless Jack;

This one's gonna hurt; because Jack is already gloomy and reclusive as is

Unlike the others, he's mortal; however he ages on a slower rate

So while he retained his youth he saw you change

After you're gone, he just

Sits in his cabin for a few days

He doesn't really leave unless his monstrous hunger gnaws away at him enough to prompt him to go into one of his feral episodes

I feel like he'd be similar to slenderman; in terms of the fact he will likely never love again

It feels...

Odd, for him to return to his lonely life, the one he had before you stumbled into his life

Some days he found himself wishing to relive the day he met you; or to wake up one day in your arms

As if this were all some long nightmare

But it never comes

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annabelle--cane · 3 months

Text

hmm okay to round up some current disparate tmagp thoughts into one place:

-> the fear taxonomy: I'm not quite sure where I sit on the desires theory currently, but I think it's worth noting that while both of our case subjects from the first episode were explicitly afraid of the spooky things happening to them, none of the rest have been, and I think it's really interesting that tom the horror blogger's whole problem was that he was so desensitized to fear it made him foolhardy (the exact thing our lovely ms georgina barker overcompensated so hard to avoid). yes, you could pick probably any archives statement and try to frame it around a desire instead of a fear because that's how character motivations work, but I don't think it's wrong to point out that since episode two all of our subjects have been remarkably chill about the Horrors happening to them. I'm not totally onboard with the desires at time of writing, I think there a few details that don't quite line up with that idea, but I'm still keeping a pin in the theory.

I also don't think it's wrong to point out that things like "music so hauntingly beautiful it makes a crowd tear itself to bloody pieces" and "paranoia and eye-related gore popping up in conjunction to the magnus institute" are familiar scenarios and seem to match up to the entities as we know them. those are very specific motifs connected to very specific types of Horrors and I think saying it's random coincidence that we're seeing them again is a bit of a weird take.

-> norris, chester, and augustus. in-universe, these voices appeared out of nowhere about a year ago, and one of the central mysteries set up so far is "what the hell is up with all this weird tech?", I think it is a perfectly reasonable assumption to think these voices are part of the mystery and not just an excuse to get jonny and alex's voices in the show. if that were the case, why would there be a third voice? yes, this podcast is meant to be comprehensible to new listeners, but I don't think that rules out any direct ties to archives, I think part of the function of having fresh protagonists who don't know anything about the events of archives is that, if the audience needs to learn anything about the first show, they can learn it along with a viewer-surrogate character.

personally, I think it very unlikely that the voices are literally jon, martin, and jonah's actual consciousnesses trapped in computers, I think those characters' stories are done and there's something funkier happening here (neither them nor not them but a secret third thing, yknow), but dismissing any idea that the voices are related to the characters, again, feels like a weird take.

-> gwen bouchard. honestly I feel like the way the production team have treated gwen's connection to elias vs the way some fans have come at is kind of illustrative. I've seen a couple of groups of fans get weirdly smug about the idea that we don't know gwen is related to elias, her name could just be a red herring, meanwhile on the tmagp post-launch stream everyone there took it as obvious that gwen is a bouchard and thus related to elias. not everything is red herrings, guys. it would be an extremely weird writing move to set up a bunch of stuff with clear links and parallels to archives and have it all be meaningless.

#tmagp #marina marvels at life

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homecomingvn · 3 months

Text

Hey everyone! It's, uh, it's certainly been a minute.

If my brief return a few months ago and then radio silence yet again is any indicator, I'm sure most of y'all probably know where this is going.

HOMECOMING, as of now (and for the indefinite future) is going to be on hiatus, and maybe discontinued.

This project initially started out as a silly idea, a culmination of my love for the yandere vn community and the wonderful games it has created, and my original plot and cast of characters. In the beginning, I was trucking along, working on scripts, planning out routes, spending hours of research on coding and how to get this thing up and running. Not to mention, the attention my silly lil project garnered was a lot. At least to me. I've had a semi popular writing blog before, and was no stranger to inbox asks, and how they pile up, or the notes that popular posts can get.

I was far too ambitious in all honesty, and once the glitz and glamor of a new project wore off, I hit a massive wall. Hard. It seemed that to actually work on HOCO was much like pulling teeth - whether it was writing, drawing, or even *thinking* about it, I found myself sinking further and further into a imposter syndrome of sorts.

And well, I guess making this announcement is sort of proving it right.

Even so, I've always known when to take a step back, when to settle down -- and now, I'm just making it official. I owe you all at least that much.

The blog will be staying up - I have no plans to delete it in the slightest. I'll just log out of it most likely - I'll still be around on my personal tumblr, where I'll hopefully start being more active there again.

Nothing could have prepared me for just how much care, how much love you guys have shown HOCO - so much so, it's still hard to believe. All the fanart, the fanfic, the memes - they're all saved to my phone, in their own album. Thank you to all who have made amazing creations for my silly characters, as well as the countless asks y'all have sent - maybe one day I'll be able to answer all of them.

I really hope one day I can return to this project with fresh eyes -- I'm hoping real, substantial time away from it will help that process. There are other, personal projects that I've been doing that have helped that creative spark again, as well as indulging in traditional fandom activities, mostly fanart. Unfortunately, I think it's safe to say that my time in the Yan VN community is over for the time being, at least until/if I start working on HOCO again. (Or whenever I play the latest updates of 14DWY - I am the Leon Fan Club President after all ^^).

I've been rambling too long, and I think it's time to close this chapter for now. Thank you all again - and one last Henry for the road. They were there since the beginning of HOCO in 2019, so it feels right for them to be here at the end.

#🪳 - roachie scatter #♥️ - abt hoco #if you made it to the end thank you :3 #sorry about all the rambling - this has been rattling around in my head for months - im sorry it took this long

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sixhours · 2 months

Text

Chapter 1 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Portland, Maine September 26, 2003

“Fuck.”

The air in the bathroom is thick with moisture, making it hard to breathe. You wipe at the condensation on the mirror and stare at the face reflected back at you, pale and drawn in the yellow light.

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you mutter, holding the pregnancy test up and squinting, tilting it this way and that, hoping the extra line is just a trick of the light, but it doesn’t go away. You groan, internally vacillating between panic and rage.

Fuck.

There’s a knock at the door. Your girlfriend, Joanna, probably wondering what’s taking so long.

“Hey, you done? We just got called into the hospital again.”

“What?” You drop the stick onto the counter, but you can’t stop staring at it, the two clear blue lines taunting you. Outside your shared one-bedroom apartment a siren begins to wail. “I just got home.”

“That’s the job, babe,” Jo says. The doorknob creaks, breaking your reverie.

“Shit, just a sec,” you mutter, shoving your foot against the door and fumbling for some toilet paper to wrap the test in before tucking it at the bottom of the garbage can. You swallow the urge to vomit as Jo pokes her head in.

“You’ve been in here forever–”

“Jeez, privacy,” you snap, clutching the towel to your body more tightly, suddenly keenly aware of how flimsy it is, how exposed you are.

Jo’s eyes widen with hurt and you immediately soften, guilt stabbing at the gentlest swell in your abdomen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…it’s just been a long-ass day.”

You soothe her with a quick kiss, hoping she can’t taste the hint of bile under the mint of your toothpaste and mouthwash.

“I’ll be right there,” you say, ducking around her, headed to your room in search of fresh scrubs.

“You want something to eat? I made sandwiches to go.”

Your stomach turns. “No, I ate at the caf after my last shift,” you lie. “Is this an all-hands thing?” you call over your shoulder as you dig in the hamper. Nothing is clean, there’s never enough time to do laundry.

Plenty of time to fuck an old buddy and get knocked up, though , you think, setting your lips in a grim line and smoothing the wrinkles out of some navy blue slacks.

“Yeah, Dan says they’re calling everyone in,” she confirms. “Something about a virus, flu season’s starting early, they’re expecting a full house. It’s bad.”

“Mmm,” you say, pulling on the freshest top you can find and tying back your hair in a ponytail. You meet Jo at the door where she hands you a brown paper sack, presumably your sandwich.

“You okay?” she asks as you walk the four blocks to the hospital, grateful for the crisp fall air. You hope it hides the flush in your cheeks, hopes she didn’t hear you retching before you stepped into the shower. She reaches for your hand and takes it, but your fingers are numb. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically. “Just…tired.”

“Okay…hey, I had an idea for our anniversary next week.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s this new place on Congress Street, they do a great brunch with free mimosas? Since it’s on a Sunday I thought we could probably sneak in a date after your shift–”

“That’s fine,” you say automatically, squeezing her hand in weak reassurance; just the word brunch makes your stomach turn. “I mean, great, sounds great.”

She stops you outside the hospital’s employee entrance and holds fast to your hand to pull you back before you can go in.

“Babe. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You blink back tears, swallow hard, and it almost comes out. You open your mouth to speak, but the sound of a siren interrupts as an ambulance screams out of the nearby garage, lights flashing, and the moment is gone.

You pull her into a tight hug. She smells soft and warm and familiar, like oranges and vanilla. You press a tight kiss to the nape of her neck in an unusually public display of affection.

“Whoa,” she says softly, taking an unintentional step back as if to catch you.

“I’m okay,” you murmur into her neck. “We’ll be okay.”

~*~

The smell of antiseptic barely registers as you enter the building, so familiar to you now it’s like a second home. Joanna gives you a quick wave before being intercepted by her attending, who drags her off to the ICU to check on a patient.

By the time you drop your bag off at your locker, shoving the paper satchel with your sandwich at the back, you’ve almost put the pregnancy out of your mind. It comes naturally, this tight compartmentalization of your feelings, this easy decoupling from your emotional state.

The on-call attending physician looks no worse for the wear, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if someone higher up is overreacting to the news out of Indonesia. Your limited knowledge of virology knows the flu can’t jump that quickly. You’re over a hundred miles from the nearest major airport. It will be several days before what’s happening there crawls its way to this tiny state. It’s true, the waiting room is busy, but that’s not unusual for a Friday night.

You fight off a wave of nausea and take a clipboard from the wall.

~*~

Several hours later, at about the time a man named Joel Miller is holding his dead daughter in his arms somewhere in Texas, you are beginning to understand that this is not influenza.

Reports out of Boston and New York City are fragmented and, quite frankly, unbelievable. There’s a federal emergency warning on the screen of every television in the lobby and a growing sense of unease as nurses, doctors, and assistants dash between rooms, weaving between gurneys, calling out orders for beds, antibiotics, IVs. The thrum of the waiting room only grows louder and more insistent. The sirens are a constant, frenetic wail in the distance.

But all of that is a dim clamor in the background because your latest patient has a bite. A distinctly human-mouth-shaped arc of angry red impressions in the crook of their neck. The patient also has a sudden fever and a rash that is rapidly spreading up the side of their head.

Rashes don’t move like that, rashes don’t fucking undulate …

If you didn’t know better you’d think it was blood poisoning, but you’ve never seen sepsis like this. You watched the bite happen, watched a troubled man in the waiting room lurch from his chair and fly toward his victim, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her neck before being restrained by an orderly and the receptionist. That was maybe five minutes ago, and you’ve never seen an infection spread so fucking fast . By the time you’d helped the patient into a cot, they were already shivering, skin clammy and burning at the same time.

The patient is your partner, Joanna.

“What…the fuck,” she murmurs, chest heaving. Her neck twitches and jumps under your careful, probing touch. Her skin is already dewy with sweat, hot under your fingertips.

“Hold still,” you hiss, unsure if you’re talking to her or your trembling hands. You douse the bite in antiseptic, wiping away the blood with a clean square of gauze, leaning in to examine the rash again. It’s crept up from her collarbone to her ear, and it has to be your imagination, but you can almost see it…move. Joanna is shivering, whether from the fever or shock you don’t know, but you don’t have time to process before a shriek rings out from the hall.

“Need some help out here!”

Joanna grimaces, hissing softly through her teeth. “Go.”

“Jo–”

“Go. I’ll be fine,” she says, even as her eyes roll back in pain.

You give her one last desperate look, squeezing her hand, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” before ducking out of the room.

A woman is seizing on the floor, spasms jerking her limbs from side to side. A nurse looks up at you with wide eyes as he attempts to stabilize the patient’s head and neck. The seizing woman’s head turns sharply and her teeth make contact with his wrist, ripping a gash in the tender flesh.

“Shit!” he cries, jerking his hand away, blood running in rivulets down his arm.

“Go, I’ve got this,” you bark. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t ask if you’re sure, just backs away and runs down the hall.

A hot hand on your shoulder spins you around before you can figure out what to do with the writhing woman on the floor. It’s Joanna, her eyes cloudy. The heat radiates off her body in waves, the rash–

Not a rash.

–has spread up her neck, already red and raised welt-like lines are slithering–

Rashes don’t slither.

–around the sunken sockets of her eyes.

“Help…” she croaks. Her fingers pulse and twitch against your collarbone, gripping too tight, too close.

“Jo, it’s–” you start to soothe, intending to send her back to bed, but she’s staggering toward you in sharp jerks, her mouth glistening, and some deep, primal urge makes you recoil from your lover’s embrace. You stumble backward, heels catching on the woman on the floor, and you land on your tailbone behind her.

Joanna follows like a moth to your flame, pitching forward, crawling, oblivious to the woman on the floor who is also moving underneath her, rolling over in a jerky, twisting, impossible way. Both women lock onto you and you can almost feel their need, their–

Hunger.

From down the hall comes a rising chorus of shouts, a crash. Someone bursts through the doors from the waiting room, one shoulder soaked with blood. From between the swinging doors, you see glimpses of chaos, hear more screams.

No. No. Not Jo. Not–

Something inside you breaks; you scramble backward, barely stifling a moan. You feel a hand tighten around your ankle and you kick it away, the tile floor slippery against your sweaty palms. Another hand grasps, scrabbles, another kick; a bloody palm print gleams on the crisp white leather toe of your sneaker.

No! No! Get out!

By some miracle you find your feet, feel yourself turning, running down the hall, deeper into the hospital. A dim part of your brain reaches for a reprimand, but you can’t make yourself stop, driven by panic, passing lines of gurneys and bodies slumped on the floor. You’re acutely aware of the thick smell of blood, drowning out the familiar antiseptic wash. You push your way through crowded halls over a chorus of groans and screams.

Out get out get out out out–

You burst through an emergency exit at the back of the hospital gasping for air, pressing your back to the weathered brick. Your heart lurches in your chest, wishing for this to end, for you to wake up in your bed after a bad dream.

A pregnancy dream , you think, barking a manic laugh into the night, recalling that your biggest fear this morning had been a little nausea and a missing red dot on the calendar. You taste hot bile and feel yourself swaying, ready to empty the meager contents of your stomach next to the dumpster, but a blinding light freezes you in its glare.

“Stop right there!”

You blink, stunned. Then you see the gun.

A figure in Army fatigues is pointing a rifle at you. The trembling of the muzzle makes you understand he’s just as scared as you are. If you get sick now, you’re a dead woman.

You raise your shaking hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot, I’m a…I’m a doctor.”

He doesn’t lower the weapon. “Are you bit?”

“I’m not–I don’t know what–”

His voice rises, panic creeping in as he gestures with the rifle, jabbing it at you. “Are you bit?!? Are you sick?”

“No!” you say, trying not to let your voice shake. “No, I’m not sick.”

He swallows hard, appearing to take this in. You close your eyes in the endless seconds between breaths, waiting for the crack of the rifle.

You open your eyes at the sound of the gun being lowered to his side.

“Ma’am,” he says shakily. “I think you should come with me.”

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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