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nexusnyx · 1 year

Note

omg congrats on 10.5k, thats frickin amazing!! ♡ if you feel like writing it,

🖋 + joel miller

"you couldn't love me if you tried. You couldn't love anything"

"that's not true"

hi Rhi! first, thank you so much. i stared at your prompt 'till the scene came to me, and i hope you like it. — main masterlist | 🏷️: established 'situationship', post-outbreak, insecure!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, insecure!Joel, mentions of smut, adult themes so minors DNI, feelings confession. [WC: 2.1k]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ˗ˏˋ꒰ you call it madness ꒱

Joel had the power to awaken the most potent, brand-new things to your surface. Since he had arrived in Jackson with the bright kid trailing after him and his mountains of pent-up trauma, Joel lived under your skin.

At first, it was because of his cold, indifferent distance.

Then, when the first couple of months passed by and working side by side forced proximity on you two leading you to the realization that a lot of the gruffness and silence was just a facade, the issue became his nonchalant air of detached.

Everything you wanted was to have in him the same effect he had on you.

That tingle. That burn on your nape when the person enters the room. The hype-awareness of their every move. You wanted Joel attached to you, glued to your skin, and when you got it, he made you swallow all your need and desire down with the bitter pill of what having you Joel meant.

Having Joel came with the taste of cheap alcohol, the scent of burnt things, and that quivering darkness that seemed to follow him unless Ellie was around.

It came with his ghosts hanging off his back, and his mind stuck in a limbo that cemented in him the idea that his ghosts weighted more than they did.

It took him months to allow you into his life. Months of you trying to figure out why he pissed you off so much and why even though his monosyllabic bullshit made your skin itch, you still found a way to interact with him at every given opportunity.

When he started laughing at your jokes—no, when Joel started snickering under his breath whenever you made a sharp comment to a fellow worker, it became your addiction. The fact that you were not other people.

Not for him.

Wearing him down was supposed to be about getting him off of your mind, removing him from under your skin.

It ended up being your ticket into his home, his life, his bed.

Joel had this power of making you do things you had no clue you even knew how.

Things that the you from before — a someone who’d been deceased long ago — would gasp out loud at.

But fuck all of that. Fuck anything that strayed away from being the reason for Joel Miller laughing, or god forbid, making him and Ellie happy.

You’d take it all to pay the price for that.

You’d accept his days of silence and his days of trying to make jokes, or teach you and Ellie how to play the guitar eve if you sucked at it and the girl had what seemed like a natural talent.

So what if Joel sometimes bled his darkness all over you?

You begged for it.

So what if he whispered the filthiest things in your ear as he took you wherever he wanted, however he wanted, claiming you over and over with fingerprints imprinted on your skin, beard burns leaving red trails from your face and neck all the way down to places other people would never get a chance to look at again, according to Joel himself?

Considering how welcoming you were to all of it, one would think you’d know your place. Or at least know better than to expect out of Joel Miller something he stopped believing he can give to anyone a long time ago.

Despite your best judgment, you did hope. You wished, and dreamt of it, and cried about it in silent tears on his damn pillow when he turned away from you to sleep sometimes.

It goes on until he catches up to all of it.

Joel always catches up to things. Especially if that thing is related to you.

On a winter night, a whole year after he and Ellie have settled and officially made a home, you two are discussing things after dinner in his kitchen.

Ellie went to a friend’s house, leaving the both of you to your shitty pizzas and even shittier booze. Joel, propped against the sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair a messy mop of curls, looks pissed off at your comment that, “she gotta at least put the Miller stare away. Time it properly, if she wants to make more friends.”

It was supposed to be a joke. Something only you two would understand. Instead, Joel turns around with that pinch between his eyes.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

You put the mug down, thrown back by his tone, making a noncommittal sound. He repeats his question, confirming you did hear what you thought, and it makes you snicker. “Joel. Would you like a goddamn mirror right now, handsome?”

The nickname does nothing to phase his look. “You sayin’ I’m a bad influence on her? That I’m the reason she ain’t got no other friends?’

“Woah, woah—take it many, many steps back, cowboy—”

“I ain’t laughin’. I don’t know why you are.”

“Because it’s ridiculous!” All your ironic humor is gone. Evaporated like water under the scolding sun. “D’you hear yourself? I said time it properly, Joel. I know exactly just how useful the grouchy look is, trust me.”

“I don’t tell her to do that shit. She’s always been like that.” He turns back around with that stiffness in his shoulders.

“I know.” You try calming yourself, your voice, your tone. Joel can be prickly, as can you. “It’s… her little way. It makes Ellie Ellie, and honestly, it’s what makes her stand out. Her personality’s one of a kind, that’s for sure, and I wouldn’t trade an inch of it for anything else, but she’s—impulsive. And while I love, all I’m sayin is—”

“Other people don’t,” he completes.

“Exactly.”

There was the noise of the final dishes being placed to dry, and Joel cleaning up his work.

“You love how impulsive she is?” Although Joel’s finished, he keeps his back to you. His tone is back to an amused one, for some reason.

“Sure I do.” You loved her since you two were out of town and got stuck in a blizzard together, and Ellie told you about her friend Riley. Loved, with every fiber in you. “It’s not useful, but it just means her fire’s alive. I like that. It’s better than the alternative. You know what happens when people’s fires die.”

At that, Joel finally turns around, drying his hands in his own clothes, fixing his dark eyes on you. “Yeah. I’ve got a mirror.”

God, you think. There he goes again.

You sigh, annoyed and angry, just like that. In a split second. Because of four little words. “If you’re gonna start talking shit about yourself—”

Joel cuts you with his laugh. “Sorry. ‘m sorry.” He steps closer to you, pulling the chair he was using during dinner closer until it’s glued on yours, and he sits. “Dunno why you hate it so much, but I’ve leared better. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Better than the alternative, you guessed. You hummed, not that over your sudden wave of anger.

The way he saw himself contrasted who he was so much that it pissed you off more than any Clicker ever could.

“Hey.” Joel brings up one hand to cup your cheek, and it soothes his cold hand over your jaw, landing on your nape. “‘s fine. I won’t be talkin’ about broken old me, ‘kay?”

Fire raged in your veins and his hand on your neck was the only anchor keeping your from storming off his house.

“It’s like you wanna piss me off sometimes.”

Joel has the audacity to laugh at you. “I just said I ain’t gonna say anythin’, woman.”

“You’re not broken,” you argue, serious and angry enough to get that insanely stupidly gorgeous and self-depracating smile out of his face.

“We’ll just agree to disagree here—”

“No, we fucking won’t. You’re not a thing, you can’t broken if you’re not a thing.”

“That’s funny, ‘cause I feel a lot of fuckin’ pieces missing.” Joel rarely speaks with that roughness directed towards you, but that’s better. Realer than the sardonic smile. He sighs deeply, his face relaxing a second after. Tired, he squeezes your neck. “Look—I made a stupid joke. I know you don’t like me talkin’ shit about myself for lord knows what reason, so I won’t—”

“‘Cause they’re not true.”

It surprises you both, you think. The crack in your voice. The shimmery wetness in your vision blurring the sight of a stunned Joel certainly surprises you.

You swallow the knot in your throat, but it’s stuck there. You speak around it anyway. “It’s the same way you feel when they talk about ‘er, ok?” You sniffle, looking away from him to blink down the tears. “I fucking hate it.”

It’s how you feel when they shittalk Ellie.

The words hang in the air for a heavy second until you realize what you’ve laid on the table.

Joel loves Ellie. That much is known.

You love Ellie. That much was known, too.

When he speaks again, Joel is the one who sounds choked. "You couldn't love me if you tried. You couldn't love anything." It pulls your gaze back to him. “Not about me. Ain’t nothing about me worth lovin’.” He shakes his head, and his hand is gone from your neck, leaving only the cold ghost of it in the process.

You couldn’t love me.

It’s your turn to laugh.

"That's not true."

He paused, and you saw his Addam's apple bobbing before he shakes his head, still in disbelief.

“You know what I did. More than anyone I’ve met before. You know there’s nothing here to love.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“It’s the fuckin’ truth,” Joel’s starting to sound on the verge of tears, and your eyes glue to his face.

“Joel, I don’t know what was misunderstood in my little nod and silence when you shared all those things about your past that night, but let me make something clear to you—I know the difference.” Joel’s frown between hsi brown deepens, but his eyes remain on yours. “You think I don’t? Don’t you ever condescend me to the point of thinking I don’t know the different between what’s rotten and what’s not in this world.”

Not saying ‘between what’s good and bad’ is a deliberate choice, and it keeps Joel’s attention hooked.

Somehow, you know this is your only chance, so you forego all thinking and just allow all your feelings for him to pour out of your pores and slip through your lips.

“I heard all you told me and I don’t give a fuck about what you did when dissassociating out of your mind. What you did to survive, or what you did ‘cause you saw all the real rotten all around. When you say shit like ‘ain’t nothin’ about me worth living’ you put yourself in the same sack as people like that fucker David or other people who really are rotten. Who did and are horrible outta pleasure. Outta desire for it. And that is not you.”

If you could reach to him, this was when.

You lean forward, making the distance between you both smaller.

This time, you cup his neck.

“And let me make this crystal clear ‘cause apparently it wasn’t. That last thing you did? To save her?” You breathe deeply. “If it was me in your place, I would’ve done the exact fucking same. A room full of wannabe scientists and a bunch of equipment from god knows when, swearing that killing the only person who’s apparently immue is gonna solve something?” You scoff. “Joel, I would’ve burned that building to the ground with everyone in it.”

"You…"

The words never come to him.

Instead, what comes forward is Joel.

Something in your speech breaks the dem that you had no idea existed, and Joel floods towards you.

Crashing his lips against yours, he devours.

His kiss demands a surrender because it delivers things he never gave you before. Joel holds onto your face like a lifeline, groaning against your mouth and lifting both of your bodies to press you closer to him, suddenly desperate. Suddenly devout, and it spills from his eyes.

When Joel pulls back to look at you, there’s a fright and a hope in them that makes you realize why he turned around. Why he kept his distance.

Joel thought you could never get him. Not truly, and not personally.

“You…” he whispers, lips still touching yours. His eyes are saying so much that words evaded him. “I…” Joel swallows so thickly that you hear it this time, and it draws a whimper from you.

“I know, Joel,” you whine, pulling him in for another kiss.I know you could. That maybe now you’ll allow yourself to, all your kisses say. I already do. I already do.

🏷 @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeiaaa — @levylovegood — @simply-sams-things — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 — @averysblog — @pedrostories — @fleursirvart — @sirtommyholland — @capbrie — @hawsx3 — @superflymaterial — @ashleyforeverareject — @girlofchaos — @queerponcho — @am-3-thyst — @nyotamalfoy — @my-tearsricochet — @ponyboys-sunsets — @peqchsoup

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ* . join my Fireplace celebration. *

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koshkamartell · 23 days

Text

No One But Me

masterlist

You walk with Joel back to his house without saying a word. After the confrontation at the mess hall there is a sense of exhilaration flowing throughout your whole body; you feel so light and free like you're walking on a cloud, with your heart thumping but your mind blank, still not having processed just what happened. All you can focus on is Joel's firm hand against your back and how safe and protected you feel in this moment.

You huddle closer to Joel to shield yourself against the cold night wind that whips against your cheeks. The cold weather has not eased and the amount of snowfall that has graced the landscape recently most likely indicates that it will continue for a while yet. The warmth of Joel's body radiates onto you and you whimper, feeling like a kitten yearning for somewhere soft to sleep. When you press your face into his side and inhale, taking comfort in his familiar scent, Joel's arm wraps tightly around your waist.

At the house Joel shuffles into the living room and flops down onto his arm chair with a grunt. He bends forward to remove his boots while you slip your shoes off at the front door. Now that you are surrounded by the quiet privacy of the house, away from the din of the mess hall and the prying eyes of other people, your high begins to evaporate. The weight of reality sinks ontop of your head and pours a flurry of questions down into your brain.

You need to talk about it, you need to know.

"Why did you do that?" You ask quietly as you unwind the scarf from your neck. You hang it on one of the coat hooks by the door. "And for Rhi, too? I thought you hated my friends."

Joel manspreads and leans back into the chair, the muscles of his body visibly relaxing as he settles against the cushion. You watch him while you remove your coat, your eyes falling to the way he dangles one of his hands by the inside of his thigh, close to his crotch. It is so effortlessly and distractingly sexy - why does Joel have to be so handsome, so strong, so beautiful?

He tilts his head to the side slightly and regards you with an almost scornful air.

"You really think I'd let some asshole talk to my woman like that?" Joel scoffs. "Or to any woman, for that matter?"

You stand still by the door contemplating his words. You couldn't ever deny that Joel was overprotective, but to witness him defend you publicly - and your friend, who he had expressed disdain for in the past - had left you astonished. It was exciting to witness him assert his authority over someone else for your sake, to reprimand someone for merely speaking about you disrespectfully. It was also undeniably arousing.

"Didn't see no one else pull him into line," Joel added.

You bow your head and scuff your socked foot back and forth over the floorboard. The mention of this observation stung you more than you expected, perhaps because it was true. Oscar had not defended you; he hadn't even noticed what was happening because he was too busy flirting with Gayle. You knew you shouldn't feel disappointed. You had no right to feel failed by him, not when you and Oscar weren't even together, but especially because you were still technically with Joel. You needed to suppress these useless emotions, these feelings that were pointless to cling to when they seemed so nonsensical.

Joel had done what he vowed to do. He was trying to fix the damage he had caused, trying to show that he was sorry. He had finally given you what you had wanted all along. And although deep down in the depths of your heart you believed the destruction to be irrevocable, you now felt you had little choice but to carry on. You had a family with Joel and Ellie, and he had proved he loved you and wanted to protect you.

And Oscar, your sweet, kind Oscar...he had found someone to love, someone to spend his time with, someone who was actually worthy of him.

You had to accept that this was your life. You had to try rekindle some of the lost love you had for the man infront of you.

"Yes, that's true," you admit quietly without looking up. You toy with the end of your braid that hung over your shoulder, awkward and unsure what to say next.

"Don't matter, though. Only matters that I was there, baby." Joel assures you gently, as if offering you comfort from something that had upset you.

You glimpse at Joel from under your lashes and see how his large puppy dog eyes stare at you with sincerity, serious yet soft, silently beseeching you to understand his devotion. In this instant you can't help the endearment that tugs at your heart.

"Now come here," Joel urges with a pat of his large hand against his thigh. This command and your subsequent subservience is a well practiced dance for you and Joel now, and the resulting gratification has conditioned you to want it. You want to sit in Joel's lap, you want to feel close to his broad chest and soft stomach and hear his praise.

You saunt over to the armchair obediantly and demurely slide into his lap without saying a word. His big mitt comes to rest on your lower back to support you.

"There's my good girl." Joel murmers as his opposite hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having been in this exact position many times, your lower belly still flutters with arousal every time you are perched on his thick thigh.

"Tell me somethin'," Joel cooes in his honeyed Texan accent. "Did you like what happened back there tonight? You liked me tellin' that cocky piece of shit to fuck off?"

You did, and he knows it.

You bite back a smile and look down at your fingers fiddling in your lap. Joel is watching your reaction intently, focused on every microexpression that passes over your features. It makes you feel exposed and far too self conscious to answer his question or look at him, but in this situation you know he doesn't mind too much. Joel is savouring the flirtatious tension buzzing between you both - all part of the addictive, intoxicating game of seduction that he loves to enact with you.

Joel strokes his thumb over your chin and smirks proudly. "Yeah, my baby girl liked it, ain't that right?"

The gesture combined with the timbre of his voice makes your inner thighs clench together and a tiny whimper slip from your mouth. It is shameful, you think, how easily Joel can coax such a response from your body with just the pitch of his voice. Joel must be thinking along the same lines because he lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they do when he's genuinely amused by something.

"Just needed daddy to take control and keep you safe, huh?" He croons. You nod, certain that a pink tinge is now spreading across your cheeks.

"Show me them pretty eyes."

Joel's thumb and forefinger angle your chin upwards, directing you to look at him. The beguiling spell he's weaving has already begun to hypnotise you; your eyes are large and dreamy with desire while you chew your bottom lip, one of your hands now trailing up his chest to fist the collar of his flannel in a way that seems to beg him to keep going. Joel hums knowingly and shifts his hand to cup your jaw in his calloused palm.

"Want everyone to know you're mine, huh?Don't you worry, baby, I'll tell 'em," Joel purrs seductively, his hooded eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"Tell 'em you're mine and I'm yours. That I'm the only man who can take care of you and fuck you like you need. What do ya think of that?"

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whimper softly. You are hardly aware of the way you're already squirming in his lap from being so turned on. Joel chuckles darkly and nuzzles his nose against yours.

"Reckon you'd love that," he whispers. "Everybody in town knowin' it's me who gets this pussy wet and beggin' to get fucked. "

You are so desperate for some kind of relief from your throbbing clit that your hips unconsciously grind down into his thigh.

"Bet you're fuckin' soakin' through your panties right now," Joel rasps.

His hand snakes down your neck and your breasts and roams over your belly to the waist band of your jeans. You exhale a breathy sigh and lean back into his chest, parting your legs instinctively and angling your hips the tiniest bit upward.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Know how desperate that little pussy gets for me."

Joel's fingers slip under your pants and past your underwear, the pads of his fingers immediately meeting with your slick arousal. He groans into your neck and dips two fingers lower toward your opening to collect the wetness seeping out of you. Joel brings them back up to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation of his lubricated digits making you moan softly and buck your hips. You can feel the hardness of his huge cock in his jeans underneath your ass.

"Yeah," Joel breaths. "So needy and I've barely touched ya."

Your eyes roll back and your hand reaches up to run your fingers through his hair "Yes," you whisper back. "N-need you so much."

Joel hums, a deep rumbling in his throat. He massages your clit at a steady, leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to plunge his fingers down into your pussy hole.

"I know, babydoll, I know. Need daddy to touch you and make you feel good, huh?"

Your eyes fall shut and you nod eagerly, your fingers tugging at his crown of greying curls.

"Please, please," you beg. "Make me feel good."

"I will," Joel murmers. His voice is now rough and husky with his own desire. "Get upstairs and strip, wait for me on the bed."

He retracts his hand from your pussy and pulls out of your underwear, making you whine and pout at the loss. His fingers shine obscenely with your slick.

"Do as your told," Joel growls.

He urges you to stand with a firm push of his hand against your back, then heaves himself off the armchair. You obey and scamper up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

••••••

Not even five minutes later you are completely naked and laying your back in Joel's bed. He lays on his stomach in the middle of your open legs, still fully clothed, still the one in control despite having his head buried between your thighs.

Joel starts by licking a slow, thick stripe from your opening up to your clit. The sensation of his warm tongue caressing the most sensitive spot of your body forces a long moan to escape from your lips. You shiver momentarily and your back arches.

Joel groans hungrily and slowly laps at your clit, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs as he holds you open for him to devour. He continues the motion of his tongue over and over until you can feel the wet mess of your slick and his saliva drip down to your asshole.

Joel had always loved eating your pussy. But tonight he seems determined to take his time pulling you apart. His mouth works expertly to lavish you with such intense pleasure that you feel you'd float away if not for the tight grip of your fists in his hair.

You keen with every fat, languid stroke of Joel's tongue and then gasp when he occasionally stops to suckle on your sensitive bundle of nerves. The alternating actions have your whole body tensing and shuddering, steadily building up to what you know will be an explosive orgasm.

Joel stops and pulls his face from your exposed pussy to speak, his moustache glistening with your juices.

"Taste so fuckin' sweet, babydoll." He pants, his voice rough with lust filled hunger. "Want you to soak my face when you cum, alright?"

You nod, dazed and drunk, unable to form any words. Joel gives your inner thigh a firm swat with his hand to get your attention. You yelp and buck your hips, instinctively tugging on his hair that you still hold in your fists.

"Yes daddy," you gasp. "Yes."

Joel hums in approval and leans back in to continue eating your pussy. He presses his two thick fingers against your entrance and he swirls his tongue back over your clit, his nose bumping against your mound.

"Joel," you moan loudly. "Fuck, don't stop, please...f-feels so good."

Your hips rock in small circles, chasing the stimulation of his tongue, desperate for the tightening coil of your climax to hit its peak. When Joel slowly pushes his fingers all the way inside of you and curls them to hit your g spot, you cry out at the overwhelming pleasure. You are wrecked, totally devoid of any coherent thought and not able to utter anything but his name. Joel, Joel, Joel.

He begins to fuck you steadily with his thick fingers while sucking gently on your clit, making you wail loudly, your walls contracting tightly. It doesn't take much longer for your ecstasy to culminate in a fervent orgasm, heightened by Joel's unrelenting ministrations. You squeal and arch your back as you cum and gush into Joel's mouth, your vision bursting with stars.

"Oh my God, Joel," you choke out through panting breaths. "Fuck!"

Joel continues thrusting and sucking all the way through your climax, only letting up once your walls have stopped spasming and your moans are reduced to soft sighs. Joel cannot completely stop there, though; he prolongs your bliss with light swipes of his tongue over your throbbing clit until your legs shake and you mewl pathetically from the overstimulation. Only then does he stop and slide his fingers outside you, leaving your cunt a quivering mess.

Joel crawls ontop of your lax body and captures your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You are still delirious from your high but you can taste yourself on his tongue, can smell yourself on his moustache, and it is utterly intoxicating.

He kisses you and it is savage and desperate and loving all at once; nothing exists in this vacuum of carnality but you and Joel, just the heat of your bodies and the thundering of your hearts, seemingly forever entwined.

A week and a half had passed since the incident in the dining hall. Day to day life remained the same, although there were some small changes in your routine.

One of the other teachers, Mrs. Thompson, was entering her third trimester of pregnancy and had been experiencing progressively worsening morning sickness and swelling in her feet. She approached you before class one day and burst into tears as she recounted the agony of heartburn and regular episodes of vomiting, the pain of bearing weight on her swollen soles. Although Mrs. Thompson had three older children, the effects on her body from this pregnancy had been the most challenging. She confided that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to persevere through the sickness in order to continue her work duties.

You understood right away that Mrs. Thompson needed your help in covering her shifts, and so you readily offered your availability before she could even ask. Mrs. Thompson was a good woman, always hard working and dependable, someone you looked up to in the community. You wanted to help alleviate her stress and make yourself useful, so you offered to swap your Wednesday at the library for her teaching shift at the school. You could switch your library day to a different day, perhaps even take on an extra work duty.

You ignored the sad ache in your chest and accompanied Mrs. Thompson to meet with Maria about your proposed roster changes.

Time to move on, you thought.

Joel wasn't supposed to see you tonight.

He was supposed to be spending the evening at Tommy's playing poker with a bunch of the guys that made up Tommy's social circle. Some were senior patrolmen, like Troy and Joel, while others were friends he had known since the early days of his arrival in Jackson.

Cocky, charismatic and idealistic, Tommy had always found it relatively easy to make friends and was a well liked and popular member of the Jackson committee. He cherished the commraderie of the community, ever grateful of the security and love it had bestowed upon him, and he did his best to nurture this brotherhood.

It was very clear that Tommy's personality was fundamentally different to that of his older brother's. Joel hated what he deemed as meaningless socialisation and avoided most gatherings, but for Tommy's poker nights he made an exception. Despite their differences and rocky history, Joel felt an undying loyalty to his brother and secretly treasured the time they spent together. He was also encouraged by Ellie, who threatened to kick his old ass if he didn't make an effort to participate for Tommy's sake.

Joel wasn't supposed to visit you tonight but with each passing minute he was becoming more desperate to see your face. He was falling more in love with you, losing more and more of himself in his obsession with you. He wasn't able to tolerate another night of giving you space. He refused to.

With the aid of a few shots of whiskey Joel was able to persist through three rounds of poker before making the excuse that he was tired and was going to go home. The men all protested and tried to persuade him to stay, playfully insulting his age and joking about his stamina in all areas of life. Tommy slapped him on the back with a knowing grin and told him to "get the fuck outta here".

Joel made his way directly to your place, stalking through the camouflaging vegetation on the makeshift path his boots had created from repeated trampling over the past year. He couldn't wait to see your pretty face and kiss you and run his hands all over your soft body.

Joel was about to sneak in through the side door of your cottage when he heard your voice floating along the late night breeze. He paused. It seemed to be coming from your front porch.

Why were you awake and who were you talking to?

Even with his good ear facing the direction of your voice Joel couldn't quite make out what was being said, so he skulked slowly along the wall toward the front of your cottage. He stopped at the very edge of the weatherboard exterior and peeked furtively around the corner.

Joel's entire body went rigid at the sight of Oscar standing at the end of your porch.

What the fuck is going on?

••••••

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late. But I just had to see you."

"No, it's okay, really. I wasn't asleep or anything." You sound slightly breathless.

The way you're self consciously tugging on the bottom of your sleep shorts and pursing your lips makes Oscar want to swoop in and kiss you. But he just nods and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Oh, good. Good." He mumbles.

There is a moment of silence while the two of you look each other up and down, soaking up the unfamiliar sight of the other in casual sleeping clothes. You crack a tiny smile at the fitted black sweat pants and loose grey sweater he wears, faded red block letters that spell HARVARD adorning the front. In turn Oscar's eyes scan over the length of your bare legs, the fuzzy mismatched socks on your feet, and the oversized pink sweater covering the top half of your body.

"Why are you here, Oscar?" You ask quietly. "Why do you need to see me?"

Oscar bows his head and swallows thickly, steeling himself for this very scene he had been dreaming of for weeks.

"I'm here because I just can't stop. I can't stop thinking about you. Because I hate myself for not telling you how I felt about you sooner."

Okay, this is it, he thinks. Oscar lifts his head to look directly into your eyes and the words seem to spill from his mouth before he can properly articulate himself.

Your eyes widen in shock and blink rapidly. "W..what? How you felt?"

"Yes, how I feel," he quickly corrects. "But please let me finish. I need to say this because it is eating me up inside." Oscar beseeches, his emotive brown eyes pleading with you. You nod your understanding and chew your bottom lip nervously as you wait for him to finish.

"I love you." Oscar confesses softly. "I've loved you since the first day I met you."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. He sees the glimmer of tears welling just above your waterline and resists the urge to kiss your eyelids. It feels like an eternity that you are standing face to face on the porch of your cottage, gazing at each other in weighted stillness as if time has stopped.

The moonlight is the only source of illumination around you and its beams offer just enough light for Oscar to see your features. He didn't think it could be possible but you look even more beautiful under the soft glow of the moon.

There's a sudden crackling sound nearby that shatters the moment and causes you both to jerk your heads toward the street. A squirrel darts out from a shadow and scampers up a tree across the way. You let out a breathless, nervous laugh and Oscar turns back to you.

"I know you're with Joel Miller now and I shouldn't be here. But I just needed to tell you." Oscar says solemnly. "I came to the library today to tell you but you weren't there."

You sigh and wrap your arms around your waist, seemingly shrinking into yourself. "I changed my roster. I thought you wouldn't come, anyway." You mumble, looking out onto the street to avoid Oscar's gaze.

"Really? Why wouldn't I?" He questions, frowning with confusion. "I always meet you on Wednesdays."

You huff like you're close to exasperation.

"You stood me up the last time," you retort sharply. "And you're busy with Gayle now. I didn't expect you to."

His face contorts with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Stood you up? Gayle?

"I didn't stand you up!" Oscar blurts out. "I left you a note saying sorry, that I had to fill in a patrol shift for Joel. Didn't you see?"

It's your turn to look puzzled now and when you speak your tone is significantly softer and borders on apprehensive.

"What note? And...you filled Joel's shift?"

"Yes, I slipped a note under the library door that morning apologising. Tommy was desperate to get someone to cover Joel." Oscar explains with calm sincerity. You're staring at him now and he cannot quite decipher why you appear so timid all of a sudden.

"And I'm not with Gayle. Why would you think that?" Oscar reaches out to cup your elbow, no longer able to resist touching you, needing you to see him and hear him. "I hardly know her."

You allow him to hold your arm while you sigh once more. He notices your body shivering and how your bare legs are now prickled all over with goosebumps.

Shit, you must be freezing, but you have yet to invite him inside your home to escape the cold. Maybe you're not pleased that he's knocked on your door. Maybe it's time to go.

"I promise you, I am not with Gayle. And I'm sorry, both for not telling you about my feelings earlier...and for coming tonight," Oscar mutters awkwardly, pulling away from you. "Uhm, so...have a good night."

He turns to go but before he can walk away from your porch he feels a tug at the back of his sweater, then your sweet voice uttering a plea.

"Oscar, please wait, don't go."

When he whips back around and sees your bottom lip nervously pulled between your teeth and your eyebrows dolefully knitted together he wants nothing more than to enfold you into his arms and kiss you. Oscar is positive that if he were given that opportunity, to have that moment with you as his last on this earth, he would die a happy man.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you croak. "I don't know what to tell you. You don't know how much you've meant to me these past few months, how happy you've made me. You became the best thing in my life."

"Are you...is what you're saying true?" He murmers in stunned disbelief. "Me?"

When you sniffle and nod your head, Oscar's heart is flooded with an overwhelming surge of adoration and relief. He's made you happy. That's all he ever wanted - your happiness.

"Your friendship has saved me in many ways, you know," you whisper. There's a hard lump stuck in your throat causing your voice to come out thick and cracked. "And for that I will always love you."

Oscar takes hold of your hand and you interlace your fingers with his as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You give his hand a small squeeze.

"But I am with Joel," you affirm. "And although things...well, they haven't always been so good. They really haven't been good."

You are crying now.

"But we've been together for over a year now. And Ellie's even given us her blessing. We are a family now. I...I just can't leave that, even if I wanted to."

Oscar feels at a loss as you unleash your emotions onto him. He is torn between wanting to comfort you and wanting to tell you to forget it, forget everything he confessed to you, to forget him completely.

"Pease understand that I just can't, Oscar." You sob.

And despite his own heart beginning to crumble and perish, he unlocks his hand from yours and pulls you into his tight embrace. You fall into Oscar and bury your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other supports your lower back, keeping you pinned firmly against his front.

"I want you in my life," he whispers. "As my friend, as my lover...whatever you give me, I want it."

Oscar isn't sure how much time passes before he eventually extracts you from his hold. He knows he needs to leave. He bestows a final kiss on your temple and bids you goodnight, forcing himself to ignore your little whimper of sadness. Oscar leaves you alone in the darkness and retreats from your cottage without glimpsing back at you.

••••••

The unbearable pain of betrayl and jealousy crush Joel's heart like a vice. He shuts his eyes and squeezes his shaking hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches so hard that his head begins to pound.

For the first time ever, Joel is almost paralysed by an onslaught of emotion; he isn't angry or provoked into impulsive violence, but instead is genuinely hurt by what he has heard. He had given you so much, had tried so hard to change for you, and this is how you act? You're practically cheating on him right now, baring your soul to another man while bad mouthing him.

How could you?

Joel slumps against the side of the cottage and tilts his head back, trying his best to maintain control over his increasingly panicked breaths.

Fuck, not now, not now.

He loves you. You're his. When did you become so unhappy with him? Didn't you love him, too?

Joel shakes his head, willing his buzzing mind to silence itself, to allow him to breathe and rein in the hysteria that threatens to take over. He exhales a heavy, shuddering breath and feels some of the pent up pressure inside his chest disperse along with it.

He stays slumped against the wall while he rides through the wave of panic. It takes almost five minutes for the distress to abate enough for Joel to decide to abandon his plan to surprise you tonight. He goes back to his own house and gets drunk instead.

Joel meets you at your cottage for dinner the following night. You have made a lamb and vegetable stew specially for him as you've noticed it is one of the very few dishes that Joel consumes with zeal every single time. You still crave his praise - that groan of pleasure that rumbles in his throat as he takes his first bite always makes your tummy flutter and your heart beam with pride.

You aren't hungry but you join him at the dining table anyway, perched on the chair opposite him with a novel in your hand. You know Joel likes it when you are close by, keeping him company throughout even the smallest of tasks.

Joel is quiet during the meal, even more so than he usually is, but you don't pay much attention to his brooding. He is prone to sullen moods and you have become accostumed to the occasional bouts of grumpiness, now unfazed by Joel Miller's characteristic sullen sulking.

Maybe he had a bad day at work, or maybe he's just tired. Whatever the reason, you show no curiosity or concern, only paying attention to the book you're reading.

It's a paper back romance novel, a genre you had never really delved into before, but decided to take a chance on. The spine is worn and the cover is dog eared, but the picture depicted on the front of the book was enough to capture your interest. The artwork shows a woman dressed in a corseted gown collapsing into the arms of a handsome man above her. The swell of her round breasts peek out from the top of her neckline and her head is tilted back sensually as she gazes up at him.

When you had first spotted the book and studied the cover you felt a flutter inside the walls of your pussy. It was erotic, the way the characters were positioned, the passion and lust conveyed through their expressions. You thought there was a romantic quality to the scene, too, something in the way the man's hands cradled his lover, and that was what prompted you to give it a go.

You're so lost in the story that jumps to life from the pages of text that you don't even register what Joel says at first.

"Hmm?" You look up at him from the spot you were reading.

"Said I don't want you eatin' in the hall anymore." Joel says offhandedly as he scrapes his spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, not even looking at you, the words falling so casually from his lips.

Your brows crease at the sudden random remark and you look at him, confused. You lay your book open in your lap and clear your throat to speak.

"Uh, what do you mean? Why not?"

Joel doesn't respond to you right away, instead chewing the food in his mouth in an unhurried manner, then taking a long sip from the glass of water next to him. He still does not meet your eyes and it feels as though he is purposely ignoring you. You wonder if he is secretly enjoying the drawn out suspense from his lack of explanation, and irritation prickles your skin at his apathy.

"Joel?" You implore as you lean forward to catch his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Too many men there, don't want them lookin' at you." He states gruffly.

He scoops up the last bit of stew and eats it before dumping the spoon in his bowl and finally looking up at you. His expression is unreadable, almost blank.

You stare at him still frowning. As far as you are aware, no men look at you in the mess hall during dinner or any other meal times, and if they did then it did not perturb you as long as none of them spoke to you.

"No one looks at me, Joel," you say firmly.

"That's a lie and you know it," Joel spits out straight away.

The bitterness in his tone startles you. It makes you feel caught out and exposed.

Is he talking about someone in particular or is he just acting paranoid and possessive?

Regardless of what Joel is alluding to you still keep your eyes focused on him, not wanting to let him intimidate you. It seems impossible though, with the stoic way his eyes bore into you, and it takes all your will to not bow your head.

You do not want Joel to dictate what you can and can't do without a logical reason, and not wanting you to eat in the mess hall because there are other men around seems ridiculous to you. Well, it is ridiculous. Why had this not been an issue before?

Joel sits back in his chair and crosses his arms without breaking eye contact with you. He licks his tongue across his top teeth and clicks his tongue.

The atmosphere in the dining room is suddenly loaded with tension. You realise that whatever has been simmering inside Joel tonight is about to spill out from him. His jaw ticks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say adamantly.

Joel scoffs and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't? You didn't see how your little friend Estrada was starin' at you the whole damn time we were there?"

Shit.

That day at lunch time the dining hall had been teeming with people; among them were you and your friends at one table, Joel and Tommy at another, and Oscar and a few patrolmen sitting at another. You caught glimpses of both Joel and Oscar staring at you from time to time and you couldn't relax at all. At the time you had hoped the men hadn't noticed the other gazing at you, but now you knew Joel had.

You understand immediately that you will need to tread carefully with this conversation.

You look away from Joel and shake your head.

"No, I didn't," you lie.

You grab your book and push your chair back to stand, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. You turn away to walk out of the room and hear Joel's chair drag as he jumps up to follow you.

"Where you goin'?" He barks.

"To bed," you bite back at him.

You hurry to the bedroom and push the door open. Joel is so close behind you that you can hear the heavy breaths of frustration huffing from his nose. He grabs hold of your upper arm and whirls you back around to look at him, your face close to his.

"Did you tell him you already got a man?" Joel asks accusingly, his firey brown eyes darting back and forth between yours. "When you were spendin' so much time with him behind my back?"

"Behind your back?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Joel bristles. "His visits to your work, sneaking around to see you on his fuckin' lunch break."

Your breath siezes in your lungs and you stare back at Joel, incapable of masking the panic that briefly glosses over your eyes.

He knows.

Joel clocks the alarm in your expression, what he interprets as a silent admission, and snarls. "Tell me, did you tell him you're mine?"

You're suddenly struck by the absurdity of what Joel is asking you. How could anyone have known you belonged to Joel when he was the one who refused to be in an honest relationship with you? He had dictated the terms of your relationship this whole time, and yet here he was now, criticising you for keeping it a secret?

You shrug your arm out of his grip and raise your hands in an exasperated gesture. Your resolve to remain calm and navigate the conversation had completely disappeared.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" You snap. "Tell him I am taken but my boyfriend won't walk down the street holding my hand? You didn't want to publicly be with me so why would Oscar know you're my man? Seriously Joel, that is so unfair!"

Joel lifts his eyebrows, surprised at your little outburst. Just when did you become disrespectful like this? How did you get the balls to speak to him like this? Where had his good girl gone? Maybe he had been giving you too much freedom lately, was too lenient in allowing you to call the shots.

Maybe it was time to rein you in a bit.

Joel's eyes darken and narrow at you. You instantly recognise that look - the look of stern intimidation that challenged you to quickly rethink your behaviour lest you wanted some kind of cruel reprimand. The palpable change in his demeanour is disturbing but you cross your arms over your chest and boldly hold his gaze, lips pouted defiantly.

Joel runs his hand over his face and chuckles mirthlessly. "Christ, baby. When did you become such a goddamn brat?"

"All I did was ask what I was supposed to do." You argue stubbornly. "You know what? Whatever, Joel. I don't want to have this conversation."

"You really think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" Joel asks cooly, voice low and bordering on ominous. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"Like what?" You heedlessly snip back.

"Like you're forgettin' who you're fuckin' speakin' to right now."

The foreboding tone of Joel's voice combined with his icy, piercing glare causes a stirring of the familiar knot of anxious dread in your lower belly. It's all so reminiscent of the past episodes of violence he's inflicted upon you.

Was this the calm before the storm? There was no way you could do this again, no way you could endure whatever nastiness he was going to impose on you.

Your confidence deflates rapidly and you realise you need to change tact to diffuse the situation. You sag your shoulders and drop your chin in an effort to appear more submissive.

"I'm just confused about how...what you expected of me, Joel." You reply timidly. "I'm just asking--"

"No, see...you ain't," Joel shook his head. "You're bein' downright disrespectful right now. I suggest you watch your tongue."

Your strategy hasn't worked. You were too bold, too rebellious, and now you will pay the price. You gulp and instinctively step backwards to maintain some distance between you and Joel.

"I'm not," you protest weakly, hating the pleading inflection that comes across in your voice. "But you're getting upset with me for something that isn't my fault."

"And leadin' him on wasn't?" Joel growls, his fists clenching by his sides. Your mouth falls open in shock.

Leading Oscar on? By being friends and spending time together? The shock fizzles away and is replaced by anger; anger at Joel for his unfair judgement, anger at yourself for not having told Oscar how you truly felt earlier, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

"Lead him on? How? By being friends?" You retort. "Talking about...about books and-and music and whatever else friends talk about?"

It was so much more than that, you know. You're purposely diminishing the beauty of what you and Oscar shared, downplaying just how important the friendship was to you. If Joel found out just what Oscar meant to you then you would truly dread what may happen.

"Why the fuck do you need him for?" Joel booms. "I'm not good enough for you to talk about that shit with?"

You almost scoff at how ridiculous he sounds. It is like he is mocking you. Joel had never initiated any kind of discussion with you about anything meaningful - no profound conversations about music or books, no questions about your work or your passions, no display of genuine interest for anything that mattered to you.

However, Oscar was the complete opposite. He asked question after question about you and listened intently to everything you had to say. How could Joel be so ignorant to your needs and feelings?

Had he truly never acknowledged you as an individual, as a woman with a personality and dreams and desires?

"You don't like to talk about those things with me! Infact you don't like to talk about anything with me!" You argue back, rage and frustration once again swallowing your sense of self preservation and robbing you of your better judgement. "All you want to do is fuck me, Joel!"

Joel's reaction comes faster than you could anticipate. He reaches out and snatches your bicep tightly into his grasp, making you squeal in pain and surprise. He roughly drags you toward him and brings your face close to his, his lip curled into a snarl and his chest expanding wide.

His eyes appear black, pupils blown wide with wrath. It elicits a deep seated fear from within your gut, that ever present primitive fight or flight mechanism, adrenals in overdrive from the previous times Joel has unleashed his vehemence upon you. All of your courage drains from your body and you tremble, tears quickly filling your eyes.

"You better fuckin' quit this before I make you regret what the fuck you just said," Joel hisses.

"Let go of me," you whimper, "let me go right now."

"Not til you listen to what I have to say to you, you cheating little bitch," he growls.

You flinch at his vemon laced words but his iron grasp on you keeps you from recoiling away. You hang your head and begin to sob pitifully.

"From now on, you will not talk to another man. You will not look at another man. You are going to live at my house and you will come straight home from your work duties. You hear me?"

Joel gives your arm a tight shake. When you don't say anything in response he squeezes your flesh between his fingers, causing you to cry out.

"Answer me!" He barks.

"Y-yes sir," you sob in defeat, your tears falling directly to the floor as your head remains bowed.

Joel releases his hold on your arm and leans down to whisper into your ear, voice low and menacing.

"And if I see you with that son of a bitch ever again, I'll kill him."

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missannfairy @bean-security

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

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kookygranger · 2 months

Text

Sparks Fly

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Series Masterlist

700 words

You rub the pinched spot in your lower back, waiting for the wheat pack in your microwave to finish heating up as you stare at the half-packed boxes and all the little bits and pieces that still need to be wrapped and boxed up.

“I can help.”

His voice makes you jump, still not used to one outside your head interrupting your space. You turn and watch him over your shoulder, arms crossed and biceps squished under his tight striped polo.

“Go on then.”

His eyes flicker towards you, wavering in his unfounded confidence before he walks to your desk. His hand stretches out, veins that seem to become clearer every day moving under skin that could easily pass for sun-kissed and animated, if anyone else could see him. It flexes for a moment above a ceramic teapot, hesitating before he makes a grabbing motion that passes right through it.

You click the side of your cheek, “Close one,” and move back to the kitchen when you hear the beep of the microwave, missing the way Steve’s shoulders deflate. You can feel his presence behind you as you press the heat into your lower back, sighing with relief.

“So uh, why is it you’re leaving again? This place really…fits you.”

You turn around, watching him take in all the tweaks of personality around your kitchen with a shoulder to the doorframe.

“Some of the coven is parting ways, and I sided with Rhi and her vampire lover. I can’t stay here with a good conscience, besides,” you shrug as you place a kettle over the stove, “it’s just stuff. It can all come with me.”

Steve hums, and you turn back towards him.

“What did that noise mean?”

“Nothin’” he shrugs, “Just I was wondering,” his hazel eyes burrow into your soul, making you squirm under his gaze, “can I come with you?” He shifts at the ill-hidden shock on your face.

“You want to come with me? Shouldn’t you be,” you waved your hand in the air, “moving to the next place? I thought you talked to Rhi?”

“I did. She told me to stop freaking you out and let the light consume me or something.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you.”

You frown, “Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to,” he clears his throat. “I guess I could…go.”

You shake your head, “No, I mean–if you want to stay, you can. It’s your…afterlife.”

“And go with you?”

“If it’s what you want?”

“What do you want?”

You take a deep breath, your chest puffing before exhaling slowly. “I’ve almost gotten used to your…” warmth, “commentary.” He smirks and your eyes drift to the permanent shadow of fuzz that frames his pink lips. You wonder if he regrets not shaving on the day of his death.

“So, I’m coming with you?” You shrug in a non-committal yes, and his face morphs into a frown, “How do I do that?”

You roll your eyes, moving to grab a mug out of the cupboard as the water begins to boil. “Figure it out, ghost boy.” You can feel his smile without needing to see it, a tingle spreading down your spine in its wake every time.

***

The familiar warmth was the first thing you’d noticed when you’d walked into your new apartment, following a trail through to the living room until you came across his ethereal form, more real than ever, leaning against the wall. Arms and feet casually crossed with that smug smile plastered on his face.

“Found ya.”

It was closer to the city, your new place. An easier route to the nightlife and music scene but entirely lacking in the coating of magic that had been left over the hundreds of years you’d spent in the house situated in the coven’s community. It was a blank canvas, but you’d sprinkle some of that cosmic energy into the space in no time.

You groan as your back clicks, stretching out another day of moving pains and surveying your progress. You’d gotten the kitchen and essentials unpacked in one day, just books, records, frames and crystals left.

“Alright, I’m ordering takeout for dinner.” It was weird. No longer just talking to yourself. Feeling another presence in your space.

His hand reaches out in reflex, motioning to squeeze your arm, and you feel a hot point of contact, flinching at the zap that travels through your arm. Steve frowns, staring at where his hand had touched you, then looks back up at you, mirroring your look of shock.

“What the hell was that?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #ghost!steve harrington #witch!reader #stranger things fanfiction #she writes

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dindjarindiaries · 4 months

Text

The Rising Phoenix - Chapter One

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

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pairing ➵ din djarin x fem!oc rating ➵ mature (18+) tags ➵ enemies to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut, strong language, sexual references word count ➵ 3.847k chapter summary ➵ This year's team of Mandalorian recruits embark on their journey to Kyrbej, their home for the next brutal cycle.

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CHAPTER ONE

I tie off my right boot and stand up, facing the reflection of myself in the long piece of reflective transparisteel. The leather of my training gear groans at the movements. I bite my cheek. That will take some getting used to.

Damn. I look disproportionate as hell with my beskar helmet and absolutely no other armor joining it. That will be another thing I’ll have to get used to.

Not that there will be any mirrors for me to see myself at Kyrbej. The training grounds on the other side of Concordia’s surface are known for their practicality, not any type of luxury. Certainly not anything more than what we already have in our stronghold. If I want to look at myself, I’ll have to bring my own shard of reflective transparisteel.

Given Linessa’s warnings about how the next cycle will go, though, I’m fairly sure I won’t want to look at myself, anyway.

I’m only able to heave one more breath before there’s a rapid knocking at my door. “Rhi! Hurry! You’re barely giving me any time to say goodbye!”

I swallow the sudden knot my twin sister’s words tie in my throat and pick up my rucksack. It’s heavy as hell, but given the fact I’ll be living out of it, I’m surprised it’s not even heavier. I slide my door open and Rowyn’s standing there, her emerald helmet adorned with gold embellishments flashing in my gaze as she lunges forward to wrap her arms tight around me.

The rucksack falls to the floor as I hug her back. For the first time since we were younglings, our paths are diverging. It’s the Way, as Mom has reminded me so many times before, as the Ancestors have called us each to our own unique paths.

“I’ll see you soon.” I say the words to Rowyn with confidence, even if there’s a wide-open chasm of uncertainty in my chest. I’ve been preparing for this for years, ever since I slid this beskar over my head. My hand cups the back of her helmet. “You better have a full suit ready for me when I get back.”

Rowyn manages a short laugh at that. “First of all, I’m not in charge of giving you armor.” She pulls away and holds my own emerald helmet between her hands, though I can see the white accents I added to each curve of the beskar reflected in her visor. “Second of all, I’m gonna need more than a cycle to learn how to make a full fucking suit.”

I laugh with her. Our helmets touch, silence sitting between us, before I step away and hold her hands in mine. “Tell the Armorer to go easy on you." I squeeze her hands. “I know how easily you blister.”

“I could say the very same about you.” Rowyn’s thumb runs over my palm. “But I think I’ll have it easier over here than you will over there.”

I scoff. “Have you met the Armorer?”

Rowyn can’t laugh this time. I don’t need to see her face to identify her concern. After years without seeing a single person’s face, it’s easy to spot emotions in other ways, especially the people I know best. “Just be careful, Rhi.”

“I will.” I give her hands another squeeze. “You’ve seen how well I can kick ass.”

Rowyn’s helmet tilts, her substitution for a smile. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I chuckle and sigh, going in for one last hug. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Row.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rhi.”

“Rhiane,” Mom’s voice calls for me further down the corridor. “It’s time to get going.”

Rowyn and I step away from each other at the same time. I pick up my rucksack and nod at her, taking in the last of my twin sister before I turn and start to walk towards Mom. Rowyn, however, adds one more thing over my shoulder. “And Rhiane!”

I whip my helmet around. Rowyn jogs to get closer to me, lowering her modulated voice so only I can hear.

“Kick Din Djarin’s ass for me.”

I huff at that, as much as the sound of his name alone sets my chest aflame with deeply planted bitterness. “Easy.”

“Rhiane.” Mom’s voice is more stern now. I wince and turn to face her again, her battle-worn emerald suit of armor serving as a warning rather than an inspiration right now. “Let’s go.”

I look at my boots as I follow her out of the part of the stronghold I’ve called home for twenty-two cycles, now. Hopefully, Dad’s waiting outside, or else I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. There’s no way Mom’s going to let me back inside, and I can’t blame her. The last thing I’d want to do is either hold up the whole group of this cycle’s recruits or have to run like hell to catch up to them.

The maze of the stronghold soon gives way to Concordia’s swirling atmosphere, and as I look up, I can see the distant image of Mandalore. The familiar ache of curiosity and nostalgia I have no need for hits at the sight of our people’s homeworld. I wonder if earning my place as a warrior will ever grant me permission to visit our history there. Even Mom and Dad seem to miss it after running a few missions there when I was little.

Speaking of Dad, he stands with the other parents of my fellow recruits, who will see us off as we head to Kyrbej. There are less parents here than there are recruits, even if there aren’t that many of us. I push the unnecessary observation away and focus on the last goodbyes I have to make.

“You’re late, Rhiane,” Dad greets me, his gloved hand tapping the side of his helmet—and no doubt powering down the chrono within his visor.

Mom offers him the answer. “Rowyn.”

Dad nods in understanding. He approaches me and sets a strong hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this day, verd’ika.” I smile to myself at the nickname. I’ve had it ever since I tried to force Rowyn into wrestling matches when we were kids. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

“Thank you.” I nod, maintaining my composure and respect in light of the fellow Mandalorians who surround us.

“The Fighting Corps isn’t ready for you.” Mom speaks up next. She presses her hand against the back of my emerald helmet to make it meet her own. “But you are damn sure ready for it.”

My eyes start to sting, my nose prickling and my throat tied up in a spikey knot. Shit. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, even if my beskar could hide it—but I hadn’t expected my parents to show me anything more than tough-love in front of others. “Thank you.” I force the words through my tightened throat.

“The cycle will be over before you know it.” Dad steps towards me when Mom gives him room to, his helmet also meeting my own. “You’ll be a full-fledged warrior next time we see you.”

“Just a full-fledged recruit, Dad.” I manage to maintain my usual smartass tone even amidst my emotional struggle. Dad huffs and steps away. I look between my parents and lower my helmet in love and respect. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Their comforting voices are a chorus that wrap around me like a sweet embrace as I force myself to turn my back on them. I join the group of recruits and get in formation, falling into the empty space in the two-by-two line that’s been saved for me.

“It’s about time your ass turned up.” The recruit at my side’s tone is full of nothing but amusement as she tilts her purple helmet at me. “I was starting to think you were having second thoughts.”

I shoved my shoulder against hers. “Fuck off, Sahra.” I tilt my helmet back at her. “As if I’d be the one between us to stay behind.”

I could almost feel the hot waves of Sahra’s embarrassment warming my black leathers. “That’s different. Since Thiio’s due for his training next year—.”

“—You’ll be spending two cycles apart, not just one. I know.” I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “But this will be good for you two. You’ve been inseparable ever since they moved his family’s wing closer to yours.”

“And?” Sahra’s curt response is almost a challenge.

“Selfishly, it gives me more alone time with you.” I let her hand go and shrug. “Plus, who knows. Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.” I gesture with my helmet to the path we’re about to take. “There’s gonna be a lot of extra adrenaline we have to take care of out there.”

“Fair point.” Sahra becomes more amused again as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And who exactly do you think you’ll be choosing for that task?”

I shrug again. “I’ll have to wait and see.” I spot a familiar shine diagonally across from my position, about four rows of recruits ahead. “I do know who I won’t be choosing, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” My visor snaps over to Sahra. She dramatically fires my own words back at me. “Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.”

“Fuck no.” I find the silver helmet again, the only one in this entire group that hasn’t been painted, and tighten my jaw. “That doesn’t apply to him.”

“Really, Rhiane?” Sahra is using the tone of voice that makes it hard to tell if she’s being serious or not. “I always thought you two would be a power—.”

I shove my elbow hard enough into her ribs to make her lose her breath for a moment.

“Damn, fine then. Comm received.” Sahra rubs her hand over her ribs. “No more jokes about Djarin.”

The sound of his name causes his silver helmet to turn over his shoulder. I don’t let my visor stray from his, instead challenging him to look away first. My hands curl into fists at my sides and I wish I could swing them in his direction. I’ve already sparred with him enough times to know, though, that I won’t win—but neither will he.

The question now, then, is who’s going to win this staring contest of ours.

“Recruits!” A booming voice announces from the front of the group.

Another draw it is. We look away from each other at the same time, focusing our attention to the black-armored Mandalorian ahead of us. Captain Hosnan has been running the Fighting Corps’ training for cycles, even before more than half our ranks abandoned the Way during the Clone Wars.

“You’ve been training for cycles to see this moment. You’re now mere minutes away from embarking on this journey, a Mandalorian tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

My stomach twists with nerves I’m not used to having. The historical weight of this training isn’t lost on me, especially when I remember who my ancestors are. Settling for anything less than the goal I’ve made for myself in my mind is unacceptable.

“You’ve sworn the Creed. You’ve earned your most valuable piece of armor: your helmets.”

Each one of our helmets is unique in some way, all adorned with special colors and embellishments—except for Din’s. For some reason, it makes my blood boil even more.

“Now, you will go on to earn each piece of your full suit of armor with each challenge you undertake. It won’t be easy, but the generations before you have proven it can be done. I’m the first captain to have no deaths reported at Kyrbej in three-hundred years, so don’t be my first.”

I swallow hard. No pressure.

“But don’t be mistaken. This isn’t because I’m softer than the other captains.” Captain Hosnan crosses his arms over his cuirass. “It’s because I’m tougher, and that toughness yields results. So, if any one of you feels you’re not up for the challenge, do us all a favor and walk away now while you can. As for the rest of you…”

Captain Hosnan lowers his arms to lift his fist to the center of his cuirass, right over the kar’ta.

“Welcome to the Fighting Corps.” He lowers his helmet. “This is the Way.”

We all mirror his gesture, crossing our right arms over our chests and lowering our helmets. “This is the Way.”

The family members beside us are the last to say the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Captain Hosnan turns and begins to walk forward, and our group of recruits follows in obedient formation. I pull the straps of my rucksack higher on my shoulders and give Sahra a look. “Are you ready, Private Auren?”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Voss.”

▼▲▼

As it turns out, the hardest part of our cycle at Kyrbej is fucking walking there.

After endless hours of non-stop travel across this desolate moon we call home, Captain Hosnan has finally allowed us to make camp. We don’t have the supplies to pitch tents, so we settle for various alcoves in the nearby rock structures that have defined Concordia ever since it was settled—or, at least, mined.

My feet are throbbing and my legs nearly give out when I sit down beside Sahra at our makeshift fire, but at least this walk is breaking in my boots. I chew on the ration pack Rowyn helped me acquire from the kitchen of our wing, sliding the material in the gap between the lip of my helmet and my skin. There’s no chance I’m gonna be able to hunt something out here.

The recruits are scattered throughout the alcove in their small friend groups, the ones made long before Kyrbej was even on the horizon. I’m well aware these groups will be drastically different by the time we all complete our training, and not just because of Linessa’s warning. It’s common sense. The shit we’re about to go through this cycle changes people from the inside-out.

“I’ll be right back,” Sahra speaks up into our comfortable silence. She stands and brushes the dirt of the alcove off her leathers. “I’ll let you know if I find a decent corner of privacy for relieving ourselves.”

I snort with amusement and watch her as she strides away. I’m not on my own for long, though, as another person soon comes to take her place. I don’t bother fighting the snarl underneath my helmet or the roll of my eyes behind my visor.

“Voss.” Din’s modulated tone is curt as he stands over me.

“Djarin.” I all but bite his name out.

His arms cross over his chest. His broad chest. Shit, does that tiny detail really matter? “You seem tired.”

I scoff. “What a fucking compliment.” I sit up more and tilt my helmet. “Are you not exhausted from walking for at least six hours straight?” When he starts to reply, I hold up my hand. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve somehow been training for this specific part along with everything else.”

Din tilts his helmet back at me. “You’re catching on.”

Frustration pumps through my veins like hot, molten lava. “Well, what the hell do you want? Or did you just come over here to be an asshole?”

Din doesn’t waver at my hurled insults. “You tell me. Your friend was the one who said my name earlier.”

I narrow my eyes at him and hope he can somehow see their wrath behind my visor, even if it breaks the Creed. “Can’t live with the fact your name’s said in conversations you’re not a part of, Djarin?” I let out an amused huff. “Because I hate to tell you, people are allowed to say your name when you’re not around.”

“I would’ve been content to leave you to it.” Din shifts his weight to one hip. “But you were looking at me, so… naturally, I assumed you had something to say.”

“Nope.” I’m suddenly grateful for the Creed again that keeps my warm, embarrassed face from Din’s line of vision. Ancestors, forgive me. “Consider it a mistake.”

Din’s helmet straightens. “Let me give you some advice.” He gestures with his helmet to the view of Concordia outside the alcove. “There’s no room for mistakes at Kyrbej. Even one could move you down the ranks, and fast. My advice, then?” He drops his arms back to his sides, conveying his severity. “Don’t let it happen again.”

My anger becomes so volatile that I’m relieved I don’t have a metal suit of armor covering me. It would just melt into my skin. “So now you’re giving me orders?” I shake my helmet. “Hell no. And you say that as if I don’t already know.” My anger unties a cruel knot within my throat and unleashes its full wrath. “Unlike you, I have a fucking legacy to maintain.”

Din stiffens, but it only lasts for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but it’s not an unusual action for him. “Good.” He nods at me, having the audacity to remain civil after my harsh bite—and making me feel like the asshole here. “I expect it won’t happen again, then.”

He turns his back before he can see my middle finger extended up at him. I curse under my breath and wrap my arms around myself for more warmth, glancing at the unfinished ration pack on my lap. I’ve lost my appetite, and I could use the rest for breakfast, anyway.

No. I am not letting this man make me eat myself alive because he was the one who approached me in the first place. He’s trying to get to me mentally, since he can’t beat me physically. I won’t let him win.

Sahra returns and sits even closer to my side than she had before. “Damn, what did I miss?” Her visor gives me a once-over. “You’re tenser than a lariat.” She points at my unfinished ration. “And I expected that to be crumbs by now.”

“What do you think happened?” My visor’s glaring in Din’s direction, even though he’s become lost within the fray of recruits. I find his silver helmet amidst a group of other foundling recruits. He’s the biggest of them all.

“You mean, who do I think happened?” Sahra huffs. “It’s not really a question.”

“He was an asshole for coming over here, and then he made me be an asshole back.”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “He ‘made’ you?”

I finally turn to face her. “He wanted to know why you said his name earlier, before we left.”

I hate the way I can practically see Sahra’s purple helmet grow brighter, as if the fire suddenly got more powerful. “Yeah? And what did he have to say about my brilliant joke?”

“Your brilliantly fucking stupid joke? Yeah, he doesn’t know about it.” I huff in indignation. “He just threatened me not to make the ‘mistake’ of using his name without telling him about it again.”

Sahra’s shoulders tense at that. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” I rest even further against the smooth slab of stone supporting me.

“So, how exactly were you an asshole in this context?”

I cringe, squeezing my eyes tight behind my visor in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me.” The only person who knows the Creed better than me is Din himself. The man’s a stickler for the rules and customs of our people. The foundlings are the future.

“Let me guess.” Sahra’s fingers tap over her thigh in unnecessary concentration. I already know she’s going to get it right on the first try. “You made a jab about him being a foundling?”

I palm my helmet with one of my hands. “Why am I such an ass about that sometimes, Sahra?” I shake my head.

“It’s the only leverage you have on him.” Sahra shrugs and pokes at the fire to keep it burning. “He’s not the most open about his life before his rescue, and he’s definitely not the type to tell anyone how he feels about it—or anything else.”

I stare at the fire. “That doesn’t make it right. He just…” I clench my hands into tight fists, “shit, he makes me so damn angry sometimes.”

“It may not be right, but it’s understandable.” Sahra nods at me. “You were predicted to be the top of our cycle from a young fucking age. Then Djarin just comes in, and… well, he’s the only one who can threaten that.”

I exhale deeply and close my eyes, feeling the weight of this day and situation upon me. “I don’t want to think about that day anymore.”

Sahra’s hand gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.” I hear her shuffling around as she leans back next to me. “Get some rest. I have a feeling Hosnan’s gonna have us up and at ‘em as early as possible.”

Sahra’s right. It feels like I’ve been asleep for all of five minutes when the sound of beskar-on-beskar rings throughout the alcove.

The rest of the recruits and I jolt awake, looking to see Captain Hosnan with his gauntlets crossed over each other. “Morning, recruits! You have five minutes to fully put out your fires, pack your rucksacks, and relieve yourselves before we continue on!”

I groan and let my helmet hit the stone behind me for a moment. We’re not even at Kyrbej yet, and I already understand why I’ve trained like hell for this cycle.

But we will be getting to Kyrbej today, and that excitement alone is what gets me moving faster than anything else.

Once we’re all back on our feet and in our two-by-two formation, Captain Hosnan continues on our path to Kyrbej. Sahra’s quick to notice the sudden hop in my step. “What’s got you so excited to walk another six hours straight?”

I shoot her an incredulous look. “Kyrbej.”

“Right.” Sahra’s visor rises to the swirling sky for a moment. “I almost forgot the destination.”

“I’ve only been training my whole life for it.” I smile to myself, experience my first true wave of joy since leaving the stronghold. “Plus, I’ll finally get to see Linessa.”

Sahra’s helmet snaps back towards me. “Oh, shit, that’s right. She was team leader last year.”

“Damn right she was.” I tilt my helmet towards her. “She’s a Vizsla, after all.”

Sahra snorts. “If Paz was my older brother, I’d work my ass off to be team leader, too.” She gives me a knowing look. “But I’m not even gonna try when I know who it’s going to.”

I bite my cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“By the Ancestors, Rhiane, don’t lose your confidence already.” Sahra nudges my arm. “Your jab at Djarin may have been brutal, but it’s true. Even if he could possibly manage to beat you out in skill, when was the last time they made someone who’s not tied to a clan or a house a fucking team leader?”

My jaw remains wired shut. She’s right. The revelation floods relief through me. “Fair point. I’ll give you that.”

I don’t have another option; I have to believe her. Failing to become team leader isn’t an option. I won’t be able to face Dad, Mom, or even Rowyn if I don’t earn the title.

The hours go by surprisingly quickly, either because of the haziness of my exhaustion or because of the verbal games Sahra and I play to keep ourselves entertained. That haze, however, is quickly replaced by shocking clarity as the adrenaline kicks in at the sight on the horizon.

The unmistakable pillars of Kyrbej frame a tight group of Mandalorian warriors, those who will be serving as our officers, leaders, and teachers for the next cycle. I’m already searching for Linessa’s telltale blue helmet, but as much as I love the woman who’s like another sister to me, she’s not the only reason why my heart is racing with excitement.

After cycles and cycles of waiting, I’m finally at Kyrbej. I’m finally facing my long-awaited destiny. Not even my doubts about Djarin or team leader can quell my pure anticipation.

I don’t have to be Force-sensitive to know that I—and Kyrbej itself—won’t ever be the same after this moment.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

#i am SO excited for this one!!!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the rising phoenix #dindjarindiaries

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redskull199987 · 1 year

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Imagine this Y/n is Jack’s granddaughter who got kidnapped when she was 15 years old. They never found her so Jack thought that she is you know 💀. Buuuut one day girl about Fred’s age came to Moriarty’s mansion and William was like How can we help you and she was like im here ti see my grandpa. So after Jack explained everything Willism was like yeah she can stay (so he can f her the same night) BC THEY WERE PLAYING SIMON SAYS BUT SPICY ONE(they have known each other bc Moriarty lived at her place after the incident of there Mansion).

Do tou think you can write rhis?

I am so sorry that it took me that long to write this. I did enjoy it very much In the end. I changed it a little bit tho, but not much. The only difference is that they're playing chess, instead of Simon Says, I hope that's fine^^

A Bet

William James Moriarty x female!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, apart from that it's basically just making out, lil bit of fluff

Summary: After years of being away you, the granddaughter of Jack Renfield, finally return to him. How convenient that he lives with the Moriarty family now...

Masterlist

I stumbled through the empty streets of London. It was already late at night, so you could barely spot any people outside. Only here and there, a lonely soul was making their way home.

I was one of them. One of the many lonely souls, who who had to eke out their existence in this city. But today, I was hoping to finally find my home again, my family. Or, what was left of it.

I had almost reached the Moriarty residence. I knew, that I was making a bet here. There wasn't a hundred percent chance of finding my Grandfather Jack Renfield here. He was the only family that I had left. And after finally escaping the family, I was sold to after I was kidnapped when I was 15, my sole goal was to find my grandfather.

And the Moriarty's were the only clue, that I had. I knew that he used to work for them. I had seen them a few times, back then. Back then when everything was still at peace. When London wasn't burning itself up, with half of its residents supporting a murderous genius and the other half trying to bring him down.

My mind kept racing, as I finally reached the door's of the Moriarty residence. It was huge, but that was expected. After all, they were lords.

With shaky hands, I opened the metal gate and made my way to the main entrance.

I could see light inside, which meant that they were still awake, or at least someone was still awake.

I breathed in heavyly, before I climbed the stairs to the door. I looked at it for a few seconds, before raising my hand and knocking loudly three times.

I hadn't realized that I had held my breath in, until the door in front of me opened.

A tall young man with blond hair and mesmerizing red eyes was looking at me.

I had recognized his eyes. It could only be him. The genius.

"William?", I asked, my voice weak.

"Pardon me, young Lady, but do I know you?", He asked politely.

"I am looking for my Grandfather, Jack Renfield.",I explained.

I watched as his eyes widened, when he realized who was standing here in front of him.

"Y/N...is that really you?", he mumbled, a hand raised to rest it on my shoulder.

"Yes.", I stated, "It is really me."

William softly ushered me inside, while taking off my soaked coat. I waited for him to put it down to dry.

He then showed me the way to the living room area.

I noticed several people sitting there. I counted six in total, seven together with William.

They eyed me suspiciously, after noticing us.

"This might be a shock for the most of us, but...", William started, his hand still on my shoulder.

But before he could finish, the man who I had undoubtedly identified as my Grandfather jumped up and walked over to us. He stopped right in front of me, his eyes wide and his hands trembling.

" Y/N", he said quietly, "Is it really you?"

I felt how my eyes started to water:"It's me, Grandpa"

He sniffled before pulling me into his embrace. I held onto him tight. I finally had him back. I had my family back.

A few weeks had passed, since my return. William and his brothers had generously allowed me to stay at their residence.

I had also been let in on their plan to change the nation. And to be honest, to realize that William was the Criminal Mastermind was not hard.

I had also been introduced to Colonel Moran, Fred, Von Herder and Bond.

They were all very different but they worked together perfectly.

And while Fred was very reserved and quiet, Moran and Von Herder were Chaos. Even though, they were a different kind of chaos. While Moran basically started flirting from the first second he saw me (much to the dismay of my grandfather), Von Herder was only passionately ranting about his guns. And as much as I liked listening to his talks, it was a lot more pleasant to talk with Bond and share a nice cup of tea with him. He had also let me in on his story, while I told him mine. I felt like he was one of the few who understood what I had been trough.

Well, apart from William. He was able to read me like an open book. Since I arrived we only had a handfull of interactions. After all he was a busy man, a math professor and criminal Mastermind at the same time.

Nevertheless, it always felt like he knew something that I didn't, when we talked.

He had asked me to join his group on the third or fourth evening already. He explained that he understood if I didn't want to join his cause, it was dangerous after all and with my past. He told me that he couldn't promise to keep me save and out of his business. It would be hard, since everyone who lived here, openly talked about the plans they had.

So, I agreed and William had slowly filled me in over the next few days. Until I knew his plan and everything that they had achieved so far. It was truly exhilarating, but also intimating to see what one group of people could achieve, if they only worked hard enough.

"What are you thinking about?"

I was ripped out of my thoughts, when I heard William's voice behind me. I turned around an granted the young man a smile. My mind started to wander at that thought again. He must've been 23 or 24 by now. Not much older than me.

"I was about to make a tea.", I finally answered his question, as William was still staring at me expecting an answer, "Would you like some as well?"

He smiled politely:"That would be nice. It's strange not to have Louis around."

I nodded at his words. I remembered that William had sent his brother off to a mission a few days ago. He was accompanied by Fred, Moran and Bond. And with Von Herder always hanging out in the basement and Albert being away most of the day, busy with his work as a Lord, William, my Grandfather and me were the only one's left in the residence.

After a few minutes the tea was finished and I reached for two cups, but I couldn't reach them. Louis usually made tea in this house and he was taller than me, so naturally the cups rested higher in the cupboard.

"Mind if I help?", I heard William smile next to me. He gently pushed me aside and grabbed two cups, before handing them to me.

"T-Thank you.",I mumbled. Why was I stuttering?

"No problem", he grinned. I handed him his cup and he made his way over to the sofa.

I watched him for a few seconds, before deciding to go back to my room. I was about to leave, as I heard William call my name.

"Y/N?", he asked.

I turned back around, tea still in my hands:"Yes, William?"

"Would you join me for a party of chess?", he smiled.

I didn't know what to say for a few seconds. Surely, I couldn't win against him, could I? After all, he was a genius.

"Sure.", I smiled and made my way over to him. Why did I say yes?

"What do I get, when I win?", I joked, as I sat down in front of him. William smirked at me, as he started to prepare the game.

"Whatever you want.",he smiled.

I felt how my cheeks reddened at his words. Why was he making me nervous all of a sudden?

"Does the same count for me?", he asked.

"What do you mean?", I said as I made my first move.

"When I win", he explained while moving his first figure,"Do I get a wish?"

I only nodded at his request, too bashfull to open my mouth again. I had to win this, or it would be the end of me. But the smile on William's face made me nervous. Would I be able to win this?

I lost. Hard. He defeated me in minutes. I barely had time to finish my tea. I didn't even realize how he did it this fast, but he did it and now he had a free wish.

"I guess, I shouldn't have betted on this.", I mumbled.

"Probably not.",William chuckled.

I watched as he slowly stood up. He was standing directly in front of me now.

"What is your wish?", I gulped.

William only smiled, before he held out his hand to me. After eyeing it for a few seconds, I raised my own hand to grab his. William gently laced his fingers with mine, before pulling me to my feet.

My eyes widened, as I realized how close we were. My chest pressed up against his and I felt how William gently put his arm around my waist.

What he did next surprised me. His movements were fast. With one swift motion, he sat back down on the sofa behind him. But he had pulled me with him, so that I had landed on his lap.

I gasped, as I felt his soft hands on my waist and his warm body beneath mine.

"William?", I whispered.

"This is my wish, Y/N,", he mumbled and raised a hand. He gently caressed my cheek.

"Just...say stop, if you're uncomfortable and I will stop.", William explained and closed his eyes. He leaned in closer, until his forehead rested against mine.

"It's okay.", I mumbled.

I watched as William opened his eyes again, but he was hesitant so I decided to help him. I raised my hands to rest on his shoulders to pull him closer. My left hand wandered to his tie, pulling him impossibly closer. William finally seemed to understand that I wanted this as much as him.

He overcame the last few inches between us and pressed his lips on mine.

I hummed against his lips. He was soft and unexperienced, but it still felt heavenly. One of his hands rested against my cheek, while his other hand pulled my body flush against his.

"Will...",I mumbled against his lips.

"Yes, my love?", he smiled, while his lips kept kissing the skin that was exposed to him. First my jawline and then my neck. He left a trail of featherlight kisses. My eyes closed at the pleasant feeling of his lips. This was something that I had never experienced before. The gentleness of his touch. His soft lips, his nimble fingers. It was Intoxicating.

A small moan escaped my lips, as William found my sweetpot. His lips kept traveling lower and lower, until he had reached the soft material of my dress. On the other hand I could feel his delicate touch on my thighs. His hands that pushed my dress up higher and higher, untill his hands comfortably rested on the exposed skin of my hips.

"William", I moaned again, "Shouldn't we...?"

William seemed to understand my hint, as he hoisted me up against his hips, his lips never leaving my skin. My arms closed around his neck, as he walked the both of us to his bedroom.

The last thought I had, before his bedroom door closed, was that hopefully, my grandfather didn't hear us. Or anyone else.

I awoke to the soft sunlight tickling my skin. My eyes fluttered open and once I had adjusted to the bright light, I realized where I was. It was William's room.

I wanted to turn around, but I realized that two strong arms were wrapped around me to keep me in place.

"A few more minutes", I heard William mumble against my neck. He pulled me closer against his chest.

"My grandfather will kill us", I mumbled and leaned into his embrace.

"He definitely will", William agreed. I could almost hear the smile on his face.

"It was worth it.",he admitted. His grip around me loosened a bit, so that I could turn around in his embrace.

He had finally opened his eyes, which were Intensely gazing at me now.

I raised me hand to gently comb through his messy hair. William sighed at my actions and let his eyes fall close again.

"It was worth it.", I finally agreed.

William opened his eyes and smiled. I felt how his hands wandered to my waist and he pulled me closer again. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I think it's better, if we tell my grandpa now.",I mumbled.

"Something tells me, he already knows", William chuckled.

"How come?", I asked perplexed.

"Darling", he smiled, "It was impossible to not hear us last night."

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

Text

Complete series Total word count: 26,949 Eddie Munson x Reader

The gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake was meant to spit the quartet out in the Upside Down. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were meant to be there. He wasn’t meant to be alone. But when Eddie comes to on the shoreline, you’re there. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s not Lover’s Lake. It’s not 1986.

Warnings: Depictions of drowning; drug use; reference to mental illness - very light; mentions of the cult/murder shit that went down in '86; very mild smut; discussion of being queer in the 80s; reference to canon typical violence; grief; cemetery setting; bad understanding of Indiana geography; reference to parental child abuse (non-sexual)

Chapters

1: Lover's Lake, 1584 words The beginning.

2: Hey, Siri, 3794 words Hey, Siri, play Should I Stay or Should I Go?

3: World Wide Web, 3351 words Two questions. First question: is Eddie cool now? Second question: where are they now?

4: Cemetery Drive, 3427 words Éowyn is no man and Eddie looks for Wayne.

5: Red Bull, 3694 words It’s not Friday but you’re in love.

6: Operation '86, 4519 words Welcome back to Hawkins, old friends. Get out your whiteboards and red string. Keep a look out for the ‘Exit 2022’ sign. Buckle up, because this is the penultimate chapter.

7: A Hellfire Homecoming, 6594 words All good things must come to an end.

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/Reader #Stranger Things Fanfic #Masterlist #Rhi Masterlist

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terushimooo · 1 year

Text

BREATHER

A composition on the decomposition of mind, body, and soul

vampire!Jean x human!reader

t/w: lots of blood, open sores, vague allusion to self-harm and domestic abuse, implied tortured and depressed reader, activation of potential trypophobia, one bug eaten, eating/drinking of blood, noncon vampire bite, implied abduction. Please let me know if I missed anything!!!!

a/n: thank you to both @iwaasfairy and @seijorhi for inviting me into your collab! I’m super excited to be back for my yearly contribution! I dedicate this piece to Rhi, my wife, and the eternal victim to my fics. I swear this is one of my most normal drabbles!! Happy supper early birthday my love!!!

And, of course, thank you to @bontenten for being my ride or die beta for life!!

w/c: 1.3k

Check out the events masterlist HERE and the corresponding art piece HERE

Stagnant, lifeless, putrid decomposition.

None are words that should be associated with someone entering their so-called “prime”.

And yet, here you are.

Every morning slowly becomes harder than the last, every day more painful.

Unseen to others, sores wrack your body, oozing and scabbing over in an almost religious fashion.

And yet, unlike religion, or maybe more like it than anyone else would care to admit, no matter how hard you pray, scrubbing and disinfecting the lifeless skin of weakened limbs, your body refuses to heal.

But that’s just the way Jean likes it.

On dark days when the clouds block out the sun, when the cool drizzle of rain thumps heavily onto his sun kissed skin, Jean can’t help but catch a glimpse of an unspoken truth.

You’re just so fragile… so weak… so…

So painfully human…

But, that’s precisely the way Jean likes you.

It’s on days like today, with goosebumps prickling your skin and teeth chattering violently from miles away, that a gnawing voice burrows its way deep into the crevices of Jean’s mind. It’s like he can’t control it, can’t stop the compulsion that has him seeking you out in your only time of freedom, the only time he lets you out of your confinement.

Even a moment without you is too long.

The strong breeze carries the smell of rain, renewal, rejuvenation, but most importantly, reward. It carries the scent of you, his dearest companion… his favourite, most precious pet.

Although your lips never truly part, never except to cry out and whimper in pathetic attempts for mercy, you call to Jean. Like a siren’s song, the soft trickle of blood from wounds beaten open by the rain’s percussion lures him in. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Jean pushes his way through chest-high blades of grass, wet stalks brushing up against haphazardly buttoned flannel and his best denim. An odd combination, but you weren’t there to help him dress in the morning. Clearly, Jean thinks with a scoff, a scoff soon replaced with a smirk and throaty chuckle, clearly you wanted a head start in the game he likes to call life. Or rather, your battle for it.

As Jean stares down the traces of limp foliage, grass and branches disturbed by previous passage, he can’t help but wonder just how far you’ve gotten this time. His eyes light up with his first trace of reward, with a gentle puddle of blood cradled perfectly in the cracks and crevices of the abrasive bark of a towering oak.

He knows he shouldn’t, but how can he stop? How can he stop his tongue from darting out, from finding its place upon the crimson stained wood. A soft groan slips past his lips as Jean laps at your taste, as he furiously seeks out every last drop of your blood.

He can’t stand to waste it. Can’t stand for anyone else to have it, not even the earth or the trees that in turn, give you life, give you something crucial—breath and oxygen.

Pure ecstasy flashes behind Jean’s eyes with every drop. It’s almost enough to have him forget about the scrambling bugs and maggots, the beatles and bark shavings he crunches between his teeth in an attempt not to waste your treasure.

If he had a working heart, it would beat only for you. If he had a soul, it would be tied only to you. And if he had any sense of compassion, of a true fondness and love for you and your wellbeing, he would let you die.

But Jean doesn’t have a heart. He doesn’t have a soul. But most importantly, he doesn’t have compassion—not enough to grant you mercy.

His love is selfish. His love is unstable. And his love is everlasting. That much is made clear by the quickly hardening shaft of his cock, stimulated only by the quickly passing taste of your blood.

Jean loves the chase, the little game you two play.

It’s one you’re not even aware of.

Taking off through the woods, bare feet rubbed raw against the rough floors of the forest, nightgown torn to tatters, sores opened and oozing down your trembling body, rain chilling you down to your bones—this is no game. To you, this is real. This is a battle for life, at least, what you have left of it…

But this time, this time you’ve gone too far. This time, there's no coming back.

In his mind, Jean would find you thrashing through the thicket, eyes wide and heart racing, blood leaking steadily from unsealed and revisited wounds.

In his mind, you’d scream. Cry out. Beg on your hands and knees for mercy, for his love.

But never could he imagine the scene in front of him.

When he finds you, when he sees your wounds ripped open, and wrists torn ragged by a branch, he can only imagine you used to try and find freedom.

When he finds you, Jean’s not mad. He thinks nothing but how childish you are. How foolish you are for trying this. How much you’re going to regret this.

It’s clear now that he can’t trust you, that he can’t leave you alone for even a second. Not while you’re like this. Not while you’re still human.

Heavy lidded eyes begging to rest for eternity shoot open as you're made aware of Jean’s presence. He calls to you with soft coddling and reassurance, but all you hear is nails against slate, an agitating and grating sensation and you’re wrought from your slumber.

“P-please,” you beg, voice soft and inaudible to even your own ears. “Don’t.”

But Jean doesn’t negotiate with incoherency. Even if he claims to care, your pleas fall on entire deaf ears. Instead of evoking a sense of pity, they just serve to drive his cause, to stake his claim.

It’s all a flurry of limbs.

Wild, desperate, bleeding hands. Bare feet swinging in abandon. Mouth left open in mid scream. Fists covered in open wounds and split knuckles claw desperately at their captors embrace. Sharpened fangs piece through bleeding gums, only seconds before they find their way into the crook of your neck.

For Jean, it’s euphoria. It’s everything he’s always wanted, maybe even more. But for you, for the poor, weak, and battered body coddled tightly in your captors embrace, for you its torture.

Fire runs through your veins as your eyes roll back into your skull. Gritted teeth are cracked open in an attempt to rob Jean of what little pleasure you can, to rob him the pleasure of seeing your pain.

But inevitably, all your actions were in vain.

As you lay shaking on his chest, gentle convulsions wracking your already worn out limbs, blood continuing to flow freely from the numerous sores and wounds littering your paleing form, Jean can't help but smile in content.

This day, this hour, this moment, this second, on February fourteenth… It’s at times like this where he thanks the gods, the gods who cursed him to an eternal life of indentured sorrow and suffering.

The only sounds coming from your cracked lips are gargled groans of pain and distress. Tears stream readily down your face as Jean sucks from his own wrist to provide to you his one gift—the gift of life. Eternal life.

Forever by his side.

Cold, dead lips press against yours in anything but reverence. It’s hard, aggressive, and mixed with passion. But to Jean, to Jean it’s perfect. In fact, he could almost swear that your pain is really just pleasure. Your lips aren’t moving out of spite, but finally requited love.

As Jean continues to watch the seconds pass, to watch the life slowly drain from your quivering, whimpering lips, Jean thinks to himself that this must be the first time in the hundreds, maybe thousands of years in his pathetic existence that finally, with you turned and bound to him for all of eternity, finally, Jean can take a breather.

#yandere aot #aot x reader #jean x reader #yandere aot x reader #yandere jean #vampire jean #lee writes #tw lees infection

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lacyscabinet · 5 months

Note

May I request a Shauna Shipman 1996 ver x Fem!Reader? The whole thing is that Shauna has been in love with the reader for years, and the same with the reader. They confess to each other and start dating.

I hope rhis is okay with you for Shauna.

A/N: people, it's happening, I'm writing for someone who is not Natalie, shocking I know. I hope you'll enjoy this cause it's my first time writing for our girl Shauna!!!

MASTERLIST

Confessions

The evening was calm, the campfire was filled with the soft crackling of burning wood, winter was still far way and a part of you was still hoping to get rescued.

You found a quiet spot on a log, taking in the warmth of the fire.

Suddently Shauna quietly approached with smile, something was on her mind, you could tell by her tense gaze. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course," you replied, making space for her on the log.

As she sat down, there was a brief pause, a shared acknowledgment that there was something unsaid between you. Shauna took a deep breath, her demeanor shifting slightly.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," she began, her eyes meeting yours.

The flickering firelight painted a soft glow on Shauna's face, revealing a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"I've had...feelings for you, Y/N," Shauna confessed, her words sincere. "I've been feeling like this for a long time, and I figured it was time to be honest, after all, we are stuck in here..."

Your heart skipped a beat. The revelation caught you off guard, and yet, a warm feeling settled within you.

"Wow," you replied, a smile forming, it felt just like a dream, the girl who had been your best friend and gay awakening was now confessing her feelings to you?

"I've been feeling the same way, Shauna. It's just... I didn't know if you'd ever see me that way."

Shauna's expression softened, and a genuine smile played on her lips. "You? I've been scared you'd never see me as more than a friend."

"Maybe we've been holding back for too long," you suggested, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Shauna nodded, her fingers tracing patterns in the dirt. "Yeah, maybe we have."

You took a moment, the crackling of the fire providing a comforting lullabie to the conversation.

"What do we do now?" Shauna asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"We take it one step at a time," you said, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "See where it goes."

Shauna met your gaze, and the air seemed to lighten with the shared understanding. Them she softly leaned in, her hand on your cheek, her lips on yours. It felt like the relief you've patiently waiting for.

LITTLE EXTRA

"Y/N...I have something else to confess"

"Go ahead"

"I'm also pregnant-"

#shauna shipman x reader #shauna x reader #shauna shipman #shaunajackie #shauna sadecki #shauna yellowjackets #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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saintmurd0ck · 2 years

Note

congrats rhi!!! well deserved 👏🏼💖

🗽 - matt and frank are on the brain. what if you tried going on a date with them?? and they're making each other jealous, which eventually leads to all three of you breaking the bed in matt's apartment 👀

nik baby, thank you so much for this ask. i am so sorry it took so long, BUT i needed it to be absolutely perfect, and i think ive done it. it was absolute perfection, a joy to work on, and clearly you know me so well because this is one of my favourite things to write EVER and i will die on this hill!!!! i love you and thank you for your incredible request <3

winner's streak | frank castle x f!reader x matt murdock

masterlist

summary: you've had a little thing for your neighbours for the longest time. what's the worst that can happen when you ask them both on a date and turn it into a little friendly competition?

warnings: matt & frank roommate au, voyeurism/public exhibition, couple blind jokes, fingering, oral m and f receiving, unprotected p in v, spanking, choking, etc bruh there's so many i cant

THIS IS A LONG ASS FIC (9K WORDS DONT KILL ME) BUT PLEASE ENJOY AND REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED

Your groan reverberates against the iron door, echoing into the empty space of the stairwell.

ROOFTOP CLOSED, the paper sign reads, FOR SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE.

It’s impossible for your eyes to roll any further back. Of all days this rooftop is closed, why does it have to be today?

The notice scrunches in your hand as you pull it free from the door, shoving it down into your bag. You’re already annoyed about making the trek up to the rooftop, but thankfully it’s a quick trip back downstairs, and you’re outside on the fire escape in no time. The balmy afternoon wind flushes hot against your face, thin metal railing digging into your forearms as you lean forward, but your chest falls gracefully with the deep exhale that carries with it any negativity.

You’re grateful for the quiet. Besides the occasional siren, you’re high enough that you can barely hear the commotion of the streets – a rarity in this city – and apart from your noisy neighbours to the left, it’s pretty tranquil here.

Keeping an ear out for anyone disturbing your peace, you scout the apartments to either side of you, listening to the ambient sounds and whatever the street below has to offer. Nothing today; nothing except for the brush of wind rustling the trees and dislodging those clumsily pinned flyers you hate. Good.

With no one home around you, and weather almost too perfect for tanning, your hand snakes up your spine to where the strings of your bikini top lay, tied in a careless knot that comes undone in one tug. The summer heat hits your bare chest with a ferocity that surprises you, but you close your eyes and tip your head back, allowing the sun’s warmth to wash over your face and cascade down your body.

But then, it shoots straight at you; a whistling arrow that lodges itself into the centre of your chest. It’s the sound of a breath catching; an inhale so sharp you might mistake it for a hiss. Your head whips to the side.

“Frank,” you seethe, hands flying up to where you’re exposed.

He croaks out your name as your eyes level into his, bewildered stare parting his mouth in an ‘o’. He doesn’t know where to look as you muster a fake smile, tilting your head to the side so saccharinely you feel him cave inwards.

Frank’s body is still square to yours as he looks up to the sky. “Nice uh… sunny day, right?”

You scoff, arms tightening around your chest. “Cut the shit, Frank. Were you spying on me?”

His nostrils flare as he grips his coffee mug, knuckles turning white to the point where you think it’s going to break.

“Well?” you deadpan, a muscle twitching in your jaw.

He sputters at your question, and then it dawns on you.

He’s lost for words.

Your lips curl into a smile. First of all, you’re not really mad per se, you just like seeing him squirm. Secondly, Frank fucking Castle, your utterly menacing, 6 foot, ‘women call me daddy and I benchpress 400 lbs’ neighbour is lost for words. He’s stumbling over every syllable, and it’s like you have him by the balls.

Then again, maybe you just did.

You’ve seen the way he looks at you, not-so-slick with the little half-glances he shoots your way, or how his lips purse when he sees you in the hallway, the vein in his neck popping as an existing string of unholy thoughts undeniably course through his head. He’s always rushing to help you with something, whether it’s to carry your groceries, or to repair anything broken in your apartment.

You never complain, of course. With the way he treats you like a queen, and gets away looking like that? Yeah, you can’t fault his behaviour.

And that was just Frank’s side of things. His polar opposite, puppy-eyed roommate Matt has it just as bad for you, but Matt… oh, Matt… he makes you throb in ways you don’t understand. You’re the kind of girl who will never let a man tell you what to do, but Matt? He makes you want to get on your knees, submit yourself to him, devote yourself whole.

Matt’s not a grand gesture kind of guy as much as Frank is; he’s more of a smooth talker, knowing exactly when and how to lay on the charm. In fact, it’s not just that; he intrigues you. You’re observant – more than you give yourself credit for – and you notice the unexplainable, the somewhat impossible. It’s the bruised knuckles that so often leave his hands stained crimson, the cane that’s nowhere to be seen, the hushed phone calls and (to your displeasure), kiss-bitten lips.

You know a body as cut as his doesn’t come from walking to the office every day.

If you go out on your fire escape at just the right time, and tip your head in just the right direction, you can hear them talking about you. You’ve never admitted it out loud, but your heart flutters with the way Frank describes you to Matt, in what you’re wearing that day, or when he says those mundane things like, ‘she bought the same toothpaste as us!’

Alright, fine. You’ll admit it.

You think about them. A lot.

And in more ways than one.

You’ve indulged in their words, in their actions, in the little things they do that makes your skin hot and your back arch. It’s always variations of the same forbidden fantasy that creep into your mind, images that become more visceral as your fingers slip beyond the thin material of your soaked panties.

And in this fantasy, there's both of them, working you, stuffing you… until you can’t handle anymore, until you cry out both their names as you fall apart.

The worst bit? With time, your desire for them — or, whatever the hell you want to call it — has only grown stronger. It used to be that you’d run into them in the corridor, exchange a few ordinary greetings, maybe flash a pearly smile, and leave as they melt into man-sized puddles. Now if you run into each other, you all leave flustered, fumbling for the locks on your paint-chipped doors, desperately trying to conceal whatever indulgent thoughts you all harbour in your minds.

“You okay?” Frank’s gruff voice snaps you back down to earth.

You shake your head as you snap awake, your doe-eyes meeting his. “Hmm?”

He blushes, fingers straining against his coffee mug. “You just started starin’ off in the distance…”

You offer him a tight-lipped smile as your chest rises with a rapid breath, doing your best to ignore the second pulse that’s appeared in between your legs.

You really had to daydream at the right time, huh?

“Look,” he coughs, diverting his gaze, again, “M’sorry for uh… interruptin’ your–”

The graphic image of his body in yours while Matt’s underneath clouds your vision, and it turns your knees to jelly. “I-it’s fine.”

You spin on your heels, intent on dropping one of your arms to reach for the side door, but you conceive an idea.

“Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?”

You turn to face him. “Let’s go out tonight. You know that wine bar between 10th and 11th?”

He musses a hand through his hair, eyebrows raising as he nods. “Really?”

“What,” you pout, “you don’t wanna?”

A wry smile creeps across your face as he straightens his spine, the intensity of your stare a little too much for him as his eyes flick away, throat bobbing as he shifts in his stance, almost uncomfortably.

Oh.

You stifle a gasp, zoning in on the faint outline of him, straining against his jeans.

Pupils blown and lips pursed, he catches you staring, watching intently as your tongue snakes out to wet your lips. The vein in his neck is as prominent as ever as his eyes wander over your body, at your bikini bottoms that leave almost nothing to the imagination, at your half-naked self standing there in his presence.

An idea crosses your mind. An insanely, obscene, insane idea, but oh, you’re devious. Frank squeezes his coffee mug tighter, eyes pulsating as the corners of your mouth upturn into a cheeky grin…

And your hands drop from your chest.

All you hear is the soft murmur of a holy shit, the ceramic mug shattering apart in his hands, and the sound of your laugh echoing in the wind, carrying itself across the rooftops.

“I’ll see you tonight at 7, Frank.”

Matt catches you in the hallway later that day as you’re running errands, heartbeat thundering in your ears as he walks himself into your shoulder. He murmurs a quick ‘sorry’, straightening his suit jacket, preparing to continue his walk ahead.

“It’s me, Matt!” you call out, biting your lips he turns, his composure cracking with an infectious chuckle and a smile that crinkles his eyes.

He motions to his cane, shrugging his shoulders. “Whoops.”

Rolling your eyes, you push off your heels, inching closer to him, his voice smooth in your ears. “How was your day?”

You focus on a small piece of white lint sitting awkwardly on Matt’s lapel as he shifts his weight onto one foot, running your tongue over your teeth as you contemplate whether or not to flick it off.

“Actually,” you start, heat singeing the back of your neck as Frank pops into your mind, “you know what? It wasn’t that bad. How was yours?”

Matt chuckles half-heartedly, nodding. “That’s uh, that’s great to hear. Mine was… well, we received a hundred rhubarb pies as payment today. S’for a client we helped a while back.”

He leans his head in towards your giggle, hand flying up to loosen his tie. “Alright, I’m exaggerating,” – he tips his head to the side – “I’m told there were… four, at best, but Foggy’s acting like we have that many.”

A moment of silence passes between you, nothing but a gust of warm wind filling the negative space. Your breath picks up as your mind races. Say something. Anything.

A look of uncertainty flashes across Matt’s face as he purses his lips, hand coming up to brush against his stubble. “Look, I’ve– I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but–”

“For a while?” you interject, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah, a while,” – he rounds his shoulders, both hands gripping his cane – “d’ya wanna get a drink somewhere?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Matthew?”

He laughs, cheeks reddening at your question. “Only if that’s fine with you.”

“Hang on a second, how long exactly have you been thinking about this?”

Flustered, Matt pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, dimples showing as he tries to hide his sheepish smile. “A while.”

“Stop me when I get close.”

He grins from ear-to-ear.

“One month?” you ask.

“No.”

You feign surprise. “Three months?”

“Nope.”

Matt laughs as you gasp, loudly. Too loudly. “A year.”

“Longer than that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The nickname pools in your thighs, heating the tips of your ears, forcing you to bite back a moan.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Matt asks, nudging your foot with his cane.

What about Frank?

The memory of the obvious tent in Frank’s jeans tugs on the knot building behind your stomach.

“I– well, I have the apartment to myself tonight, so I could cook. For you,” Matt says, voice lined with anticipation.

“Huh,” you look up, swallowing a laugh. “Frank isn’t home tonight?”

Matt scrunches his face. “Uh… no. He said he had something on. I figured I might as well take advantage of the quiet.”

In an instant, a thought blossoms in your mind. It’s devious, it is so goddamn devious, but oh…

So are you.

You step forwards, breath coming out a little shaky as the heat from his body reflects onto yours. Reaching a hand up to his lapel, you brush off the lint you were eyeing earlier, indulging in the earnest grunt that falls from Matt’s lips.

“7 PM,” you whisper in his ear. “Meet me at the wine bar between 10th and 11th.”

He presses your hand against his collarbone, holding it steady as he tilts his head downwards. You’re shuddering at his touch, at the warmth and tingles it shoots through your veins, at the unexpected coarseness of his hands.

“It’s a date,” he confirms, letting go of your hand, the dimples in his grin remaining as he unlocks the door to his apartment.

The wine bar is intimate; only the sounds of hushed whispers and the clinking of glasses keeping you company. You tap your fingers against the lacquered wooden table, sucking in your cheeks as you look at the time. 7.15 PM. You’re a little annoyed, not just at the fact that they’re late, but at the straps of your sundress, thin and finicky things sliding off your shoulders with even the tiniest of movements. A sigh escapes your lips, condensation blooming across the wineglass in front of your face. Maybe they figured you’d double booked them, asked them to the same venue and on the same date without saying much more. So much for your devious little plan, huh?

You pick at your nails, wine crisp on your tastebuds, each subsequent sip making you dizzy, but slowly taking the edge off. Who cares if they don’t show up? You need a night out anyway.

As if on cue, the door opens, catching on the little silver doorbell, and Frank steps inside, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take him in. He’s somehow even more ruggedly handsome tonight, sharp jawline perfectly illuminated by the warm lighting.

He apologises to you profusely, pulling you in for a tight hug, the contact from the muscles flexing under his thin shirt heating your skin. He motions to the bartender for a glass of whatever you’re having, setting the flowers down beside you.

He rests his forearms on the table, dark eyes peering into yours. “Will you excuse my tardiness, pretty girl?”

Oh, my fuck. What the hell is it with you and nicknames?

‘Pretty girl’ jolts you upright with a throb, and it takes every single ounce of strength you possess not to just uproot him by the collar and have him right then and there. Unfortunately, your reaction is poorly masked, and you’re forced to watch as Frank’s knowing smile grows, stretching larger as the bartender brings him his drink.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his glass to yours, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, eyes moving lazily up and down your torso.

Frank leans back in the booth as he takes a sip, his shirt riding up to expose the smallest sliver of skin. “So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the reason for,” – he waves his hands around – “all this?”

You swallow what’s left of your wine, pressing your lips together. What were you supposed to say, that you were sick of the sexual tension and all you wanted was to have fun with Frank and his equally sexy roommate?

You say something else instead. “I like being spontaneous, Frank.”

He cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. “S’that so?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “I’m sick of doing the same thing all the time, and I need a little change in scenery.”

Frank shuffles towards you, muscles rippling under his long-sleeved shirt. “And you think I can do that for ‘ya?”

A half-smirk tugs on the corners of your lips as your fingers start to dance to where his hands are resting on the table…

But you jerk your hand back, ears pricking up at the sound of the door swinging open and slamming against the wooden frame, followed by a loud ‘sorry’ offered to whoever’s tending the bar.

Your stomach turns as the bartender guides Matt to your table at your signal.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Still think this is a good idea?

You’re not sure where to look as Frank’s sour expression shoots daggers straight at you, moving over hesitantly to make room for Matt in the booth.

Matt’s cold shoulder towards Frank is way too obvious as he sits down, setting his neatly folded cane on the table.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he swallows, “I had something I had to… take care of. But I came here as soon as I could.”

You glance down, flinching at the scabs across his knuckles, at the deep purple bruise on his cheek marring his features. There it is again, that thing about him you can’t quite figure out.

“Yeah, okay, the fuck is this?” Frank turns to you, quizzical look bordering on anger.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was a date,” – Matt chimes in, wagging his finger at you – “between the two of us”.

“She asked me here, Red,” Frank whips his head around, shoulders tensing.

Matt scoffs, throwing his head back. “You? She asked you.”

Frank grits his teeth, fists clenching tightly together. “Shut the hell up. At least I had the decency to get the lady flowers.”

Matt laughs scornfully. “Oh yeah Castle, that’s so original of you.”

“We needa take this outside, Red?”

The clink of three whiskey glasses being set down on your table is loud enough to collapse their argument.

The server clears their throat. “Excuse me. Courtesy of that man over there,” — they pause, pointing — “if you keep it down.”

You thank the server, flashing an apologetic smile at the man in the corner, and pull a glass towards you, tipping it straight into your mouth. Frank does the same, waving at the bar for three more, while Matt sips his furtively, licking his lips before he swallows.

“I can explain,” you start, grateful for the warmth of the whiskey spreading through your veins.

Your face grows hot as Matt and Frank sit back in the booth, training their attention on you. With your heart thundering in your chest, the alcohol rushes to your head, hitting you with that little bit of confidence you need.

You lean forwards on the table, cocking your head to the side. “Let’s not sugarcoat this, alright?”

Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt.

“You two think you’re so slick with your looks, and comments and… sink fixing,” you say, fingers curling into fists, “but the truth is, you don’t hide it well. At all.”

Matt presses his lips together as he slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while Frank takes a shallow breath.

Your forearms are now completely on the wood as you inch closer. “If you want me, you can just say so.”

The space between the three of you suddenly goes dead quiet; so quiet it’s as if time has fallen away, leaving you in your own little bubble.

“It’s lucky,” you pause, “that I have an affinity for you both. And I thought maybe… just maybe, we could have a little fun together.” You turn your head, making sure Frank catches the mischievous glint in your eyes.

You’re so far forwards now that your head is in between theirs, and you bring your hands up to their cheeks, pushing them closer to you. With their heads almost touching, and your lips one breath away from their ears, you feel the shudder running through their spines reverberate into your body. “Maybe we can make it a little interesting, hmm? Only if you’re up for it,” you wink.

Matt’s smirk peaks your nipples, spurring you to lower your voice, words dripping like honey. “Let’s just say the person who makes me cum the most tonight can take me on a real date.”

To his credit, Matt keeps his cool, merely interlacing his hands together on the table, sucking his cheeks in. Frank curses under his breath, gaze narrowing as he studies you, contemplating your proposition.

Matt is the first to speak, his voice dipping an octave. “Let’s go.”

Frank jerks his head in Matt’s direction, eyes wide. “Huh?”

Matt’s tone is insistent now. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Fuck, Red,” Frank whispers, hand coming up to stroke his chin, as the server sets three more whiskeys down on the table.

You exchange a glance with Frank before you throw back the liquid, head shaking as it burns the back of your throat. They follow suit, wasting no time at all, and while Frank leaves a generous tip at the table, you make a beeline for the door.

The cab is way too small for the three of you, but you squeeze into the middle seat anyway, biting back a wicked grin as Matt leans forward to give the driver his address.

There’s not a lot of space – well, not when you’re caught between two individuals with the muscle mass of an entire Planet Fitness combined – but you try to relax, heart racing as your body presses up against theirs. Something clenches in your jaw as you shuffle in the seat, the paper-wrapped bouquet of flowers crinkling by your feet. You’re not sure where to put your hands, but they come to settle at the edge of your sundress, where it’s ridden up almost beyond the point of modesty.

A thick finger sweeps against the back of your neck, catching you off-guard. The half-gasp half-cough you let out is louder than intended, and it draws the attention of the cab driver, who looks at you from his rearview mirror.

“Everything okay, miss?” he asks, concerned.

You will yourself to snap out of it, out of that lust-filled daze, squeezing your legs together as the throbbing in between your thighs intensifies.

“Yes,” you gulp. “Everything’s fine, thank you.”

Frank waits until the driver flicks his gaze back to the road ahead. “Didn’t mean to scare ‘ya, sweetheart. You want me to stop?”

You purse your lips. “No.”

He takes his hand away from your neck and hovers over the patch of skin your sundress did cover. He drags the tips of his fingers up your thigh, stopping just high enough to hear the tremble in your breath, shooting you a half-smirk as you suck your cheeks in.

“Frank.” Matt’s tone is stern as he tilts his chin upwards, nostrils flaring with his rising temper. “I thought we agreed to wait.”

Frank’s laugh is mirthlessly low. “Who said that, Red?”

You stare at your knee, at the big hand that’s found its mark. You’ve never noticed how gorgeous Frank’s hands are, the way he keeps his fingernails neatly trimmed, forked veins on the topside pulsating as he grips tighter, the light pink striations of healed scars running over his knuckles. And those fingers… God, if his fingers are that thick already, what would his–

You bite down on your lip, hard, as Frank pulls your knee towards him, spreading you apart in the seat. Fuck. Every nerve in your body is on fire as he lifts your hand up to his mouth, static electricity buzzing as his lips graze over your knuckles.

While Frank’s other hand slides under your dress, up to where the thin waistband of your panties sit, Matt leans over, as if to fix his seatbelt. Your eyes lull back in your head as he creeps forward instead, fingers skimming the inside of your thigh, their combined actions threatening to elicit a moan from your lips.

You’re not in control anymore.

Actually, you haven’t been in control for ages. It takes all of your willpower – well, what’s left of it – to not cry out, to not sit as far back as possible and let them…

“That’ll be $29.30,” the driver announces, brakes screeching as he pulls up outside your apartment building.

“Fuck!” you curse under your breath, reaching for your purse as you pull down your dress.

Matt grabs your wrist, locking it in place as he takes out his wallet, gliding one finger along the top of the bills.

“I think this is a 50… Frank, a little help please?” Frank grunts in agreement as Matt hands the bill to the driver. “Keep the change.”

You don’t care that you flash Frank a little as he helps you out, smirking as you watch his chest tighten at the little scrap of fabric barely covering you, clenching the bouquet of flowers in his other hand. You yelp as he pulls you out towards him, flush against the hard muscle of his chest.

His gaze is piercing as he tips your chin upwards, irises paper thin around blown pupils. “You sure you know what you’re gettin’ into, pretty girl?”

You swat his hand away. “Oh Frank, I’m not quite sure you’re ready for me.”

“What, you think I can’t handle you or somethin’?”

He trains his eyes on your mouth as it shifts into a wry smile, your tongue darting out to lick your lips in one smooth motion. Frank opens his mouth to retort, to say something with the intention of buckling your knees, but Matt walks up to you with perfect timing, offering you his arm.

“Walk with me?”

Frank groans, throwing his head back. “How many times do I have to tell ‘ya, Red? You can’t keep using that trick. What happens the day someone says no, huh? Can’t walk by yourself?”

A hearty laugh bubbles from Matt’s chest. “First of all, go to hell. Secondly,” – his voice drops to a whisper – “no one’s gonna say no to a blind man.”

He turns to you, arm still on offer. “Right, sweetheart?”

You savour the priceless look on Frank’s face as you take Matt’s arm, linking it in yours. “Absolutely, Matthew.”

The walk upstairs to their apartment is excruciatingly slow; every step laced with the type of tension that sits thickly in the air. Arm still in tow with Matt’s, Frank trails behind the two of you, the thud of his boots against the wood echoing loudly in the stairway. You can feel him staring at you, at the way your dress flutters with each step upwards, the little glimpses of your ass making his mouth go dry.

Matt stops on the next landing, jerking your arm to do the same. Wordlessly, he drops his cane to the ground, unlinking his arm, tilting his chin upwards as if to settle his phantom gaze on you.

His lips are on yours before you can say anything, hands dropping to your waist, inching you towards the wall until he has you pinned. You mewl as he slips the straps of your dress off your shoulders, trailing his kisses down your neck, pressing himself into you.

“If there’s anything you’re uncomfortable with,” – he rasps, nipping a sensitive spot on your neck – “you tell us, okay?”

He smirks against your mouth as you tell him ‘yes’, dragging the tips of his fingers from your collarbone down your arm.

But the kiss is over as quickly as it started.

“Hey, hey, hey, what the fuck, Red?” Frank spits, yanking Matt back by the collar.

“Fuck you, Frank,” Matt retorts, stepping forward as his hands tighten into fists.

You stifle a giggle, trying your best not to show your amusement at the flowers that undercut Frank’s tone.

Frank looks at you, nostrils flaring at the way Matt’s messed up your hair. “Darlin’, it’s a fair competition, yeah?”

Matt interjects as you start to agree. “Alright, Castle, then tell me how much fun you had before I got there. You had a head start.”

Frank throws his hands up in the air, shaking his head. “For God’s sake Red, I didn’t ask for you to be late–”

Matt presses his lips together, cupping his hands over his face, the exasperation in his voice imminent. “I had things to do, Frank, I–”

You clear your throat. “Why don’t you two save this for when we’re upstairs, huh?”

They turn their heads in your direction, nodding.

The two remaining flights of stairs disappear under your feet in a matter of seconds.

You swear you hear a crack as Frank bursts into the apartment, ushering you in as he scrambles to kick the front door closed. Matt lets out a little laugh as you drag him inside, stomach twisting as he yanks your hand, spinning you towards him. His lips find yours in an instant as he shrugs his suit jacket off, hands coming up to cup your jaw.

Bouquet of flowers still in hand, Frank rushes to find a vase, faucet creaking as he waits for it to fill up.

“Hey!” he yells out, “Better not start anything without me!”

Matt breaks away from your kiss to undo his tie, whipping his head towards Frank in the kitchen. “Like you waited in the cab?”

He groans into your mouth as your tongue swipes along his bottom lip, teeth gently clashing together as he steadies his hands on your face.

“Frank?!” Matt calls, pulling off his glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Here.” Matt throws his glasses at Frank, who catches them in one hand, setting them onto the counter with a soft click.

As his mouth meets yours again, Matt’s hands begin to wander. As his thumbs brush over your nipples, he dances his fingers upwards, lingering for a moment on the hollow of your throat, coaxing a soft gasp from you as he uses a knuckle to trace its outline.

His lips skirt your collarbone as he lifts your dress up, grunting as he kneads your ass, grinding his hard cock into your leg. He continues moving his hands up to where your panties sit on your hips, picking at the waistband, listening intently for the snap of the elastic against your skin as he lets go.

There it is again, that fucking smirk.

“Matt,” you exhale sharply, nipping at his earlobe as he snaps your waistband once again. “Matt…”

“God, I love it when you say my name like that,” he groans, tugging your panties down your thighs.

He presses closer to you, wedging his hand under your dress, tracing a finger up your slick folds. You’re squirming in place, chest heaving as he puts pressure on your clit, circling it in a way that pulls on the knot building behind your stomach.

You make a sound you’ve never heard before as Frank comes up behind you, thick hands gripping your waist, holding you in place, steadying you for something you’ve only ever fantasised about.

Matt sinks his fingers into you, thumb still moving over your clit, brushing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Attagirl,” Frank whispers, as you tip your head back into his shoulder, vision going blurry at the way Matt curls his fingers inside you.

You’re a mess, dripping all over his hand, keening into his touch.

Frank’s voice is husky in your ear. “Look up at – that’s right, baby, look up at me.”

You stare into Frank’s eyes, mouth parted in a perfect ‘o’ as Matt growls, thumb so slick with your arousal that he glides over your clit with ease. All you manage to get out is ‘mmhm’ before Frank brings his fingers to your lips, commanding you to ‘suck’.

Frank purses his lips, throat bobbing as you seal your mouth around his fingers, bucking against Matt’s touch, eyes rolling back as he hits the back of your throat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“That’s right, darlin’,” Frank rasps, watching the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the telltale sign of your impending release.

Your cry is muffled as your orgasm rips through your body, flooding Matt’s hand, his own slacks staining with his leaking precum. There’s a string of spit clinging to Frank as he slides his fingers out from your mouth with a pop, but it doesn’t phase him; not one bit. In fact, he tips his head down to look at you like a trophy, something like a mix of awe and desire manifesting in his darkened gaze.

You wobble as Matt and Frank step away from you, slipping your dress off as you right your balance on the couch behind, bracing your wrists on the soft leather.

But there’s no rest for the wicked, and Frank beckons you towards him as he pulls his shirt off, leaving it in a heap on the floor. He sweeps you in for a kiss, full lips insistent against yours. He’s a little rougher than Matt, but somehow, his mouth is more forgiving, warm and soft as it melds to yours. You break the kiss, stepping back for a second to look him up and down, taking in as much detail as possible.

“Holy hell,” you say, Frank’s responding expression evidence that you actually said that out loud, and not in your head.

He looks at the floor, shyly messing a hand through his hair. “S’there uh… something you like?”

“Something I like?!” you exclaim, ogling him.

“Shut up, Frank. How the– Oh my God, Matt, get over here,” you command, motioning Frank to come up behind you.

You waste no time in unbuttoning Matt’s shirt, working your way from top to bottom. Unlike Frank and his efforts to woo you by walking around shirtless, you’ve never seen Matt without clothes on. He’s always in something, to your disdain…

Until now.

A gasp escapes your lips – partly from the way Frank’s leaving marks all over your neck – at Matt’s tanned skin underneath, at what he’s been hiding this entire time. You run your hand over the vast expanse of him, jaw dropping as he flexes underneath your hand, rigid muscle sending heat to your core. Your heart stills at the scars flecking his torso, some well healed, some angry and red as if they’re new.

Frank skirts his fingers over your nipples, pulling from you the tiniest whimper.

“Uh…” Matt starts, vacant eyes flicking upwards. “I can explain–”

Your voice hushes to a whisper. “Don’t worry about it, Matty, j-just… just c’mere, okay?”

The sound of Frank’s belt being unbuckled makes your breath catch in your throat, the clinking of metal ringing faintly in your ears as your fingers graze the deep vee lines on Matt’s hips. You watch as Matt sucks his cheeks in, cock twitching against the fabric of his slacks as you hook yourself into his waistband, pulling him closer to you by his belt.

Your mouth melts against his before you turn to Frank, who you know is desperate for attention from the way his arousal presses hard into your back. His tongue slips against yours, hand curving your jaw, tracing the contours of your face before it settles on your breast, drawing out a stifled moan as he rolls your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

“Alright Red,” Frank pants into your mouth, “I’m done being nice.”

Matt laughs scornfully as he kisses your neck hungrily, reaching around to your aching cunt once more.

Frank grunts as you palm him over his underwear, throwing his head back at the sensitivity of your touch. “Baby, did he make you cum good?”

You gulp, nodding as Frank smacks Matt’s hand away, rough fingers taking residence on your clit. “Yeah, Frank.”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Really? ‘Cause that was altar boy’s first time touchin’ a pussy.”

Matt puffs his chest out, striding forward. “Oh, you–”

Frank offers Matt nothing but a smug laugh as he picks you up over his shoulder, fingers digging into your waist as he carries you to the couch like you weigh nothing. Goosebumps erupt all over you as the cool leather makes contact with your skin, then as Frank knocks your knees apart with the push of a hand. A chill runs down your spine as you bare yourself to them, and although you know Matt can’t see you spread out like you want him to, you get the idea he knows exactly what’s going on; maybe the scent of your heightened arousal is easier for him to pick up.

“I haven’t let you off the hook, Castle,” Matt snarls. “You and me? After this we’re gonna settle it our way, yeah?”

“If it makes you sleep better at night, then yeah,” Frank retorts, head settling in between your legs.

Matt curses under his breath, fists coming up to press against his forehead. “Okay– just, fine. Just describe her to me Frank? Can you do that, then we’re even?”

“For now.”

“Fine, for now.”

You wiggle up on the couch, propping yourself up by your elbows as Frank flares his nostrils, inhaling you before him. “Fuck Red… the way she’s lyin’ on her back, spread out like this…”

Matt shudders as he palms himself, nodding.

You feel yourself heating up as you continue listening. “And she’s– she’s fucking drippin’, God, fuck.”

“Yeah?” Matt pants, shrugging off his slacks, hand closing around his cock as it springs free, tip leaking with precum. “Keep going.”

“And now, I’m gonna lick her pretty little clit.” Frank looks into your eyes, lips pressed together in a hard line. “You want me to do that for you, baby?”

The way your breath shakes as you say ‘yes’ makes the both of them smirk.

Then, Frank’s tongue flattens against your clit, drawing from you a sound you’ve only ever made while fantasising about them, only in the privacy of your bedroom, of your shower, and wherever else you’ve thought about them. Your back arches as he licks wet circles into you, pressure feeling like velvet on the most sensitive part of your body.

Matt finds a spot next to you as he strokes himself, eyes squeezed shut as the sounds you make travel through his body. You reach out, wrapping your hand around his cock as he leans over to play with your tits, marvelling at the thick length before you, at the way it looks like it was made for your pleasure.

‘Come here, Matt. You’re begging to be sucked’ are all the words you can manage in between moans, but he comes up right next to you, slapping his tip on your tongue. He groans as you lick along the underside of him, along the prominent vein that pulsates with every touch. He lets out a half-cry as you seal your mouth over him, taking him in so deep that he hits the back of your throat.

You start to bob your head, hand coming up to work his shaft in tandem, but Frank’s tongue slipping itself into the warmest, wettest part of you breaks you wholly, head tipping back as your peak sails through you.

Mouth and chin glistening with your cum, Frank looks up at you smugly, watching your erratic breathing as you come down from your high. He wipes his mouth before pushing off the couch to take his underwear off, cock so hard it slaps against his stomach. Your mouth goes dry at the girth, legs crossing over from the thought of him stretching you out; the pain that’ll give way to pleasure.

You get off the couch to kneel between them both, rug under your knees semi-cushioning you from the hardwood floor. A shudder runs through your body as you look up at them, standing tall over you, every hard contour of muscle illuminated in the dim light of the apartment. Pupils dilated and mind buzzing with the thought of every single thing you’d like to do to their bodies, you reach upwards, hands closing around their cocks, throbbing and warm under your touch. Your strokes are languid as you relish in the sounds that tumble from their mouths, string of curses music to your ears.

As your pace quickens, Matt tangles a hand in your hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for,” he says, jerking your head back ever-so-slightly at the jolt of pleasure that runs through his body.

“Hmm,” you chuckle, flattening your tongue on his head, the half-howl half-cry he gives you making your legs shake. “And what about you, Frank?” You look up at him with innocent eyes as you shift to his cock, coating him in your saliva as he fucks the back of your throat.

He ruts into your mouth, grunting the words out. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, darlin’.”

You move back to Matt, hand gliding easier along Frank’s length with the help of your spit, licking the underside of him before you take him all into your mouth. “Did you ever think this was gonna happen?”

Frank laughs as you push them together closer to you, taking turns to blow them. “You should see Red, jerkin’ himself to the thought of you.”

Frank jabs Matt in the chest lightly. “He’s not quiet about it.”

Matt turns red in the darkness, pursing his lips as his cock hits a spot at the back of your throat, making you gag. “Oh and what about you, Castle?”

Frank’s voice is gruff as he reaches down to play with your nipples. “Oh shut it, Red.”

You render them speechless for a second as you stuff them both into your mouth, stretching your lips to fit them in as much as possible. They’re big, bigger than you’ve ever had, so they barely fit, but God, you’re so good, trying to please them both at the same time.

“Fuck,” they curse, voices dropping an octave, Matt’s hand coiling tighter in your hair. Tears spill down your cheeks as you get sloppier, strings of saliva following you from one cock to the other.

“I can hear you,” – Matt pants – “saying her name in the shower.”

“Yeah, so? Maybe I did, once or twice.”

“No, no, no,” Matt laughs, “Not once or twice. All the damn time.”

Frank growls as Matt opens his mouth, fake moaning your name brazenly. “Cum for me darlin’, cum for m–”

A well placed kick to Matt’s ankle shuts him up, making him stumble backwards. “Yeah, okay, now I’m gonna say that to her for real.”

Frank shuffles behind you, bending you over the coffee table, pinning your outstretched arms at the wrists. The rug burn on your knees makes you hiss, but the resounding smack on your ass distracts you from the pain. It’s soothed by Frank’s wet cock slapping gently against his handprint, and then the trail of kisses he leaves from the welt to your pussy. He licks a broad stripe up your folds before plunging his fingers inside you, tongue exploring every part of you to see what sounds you make, what you like… what’s gonna get you to your next orgasm.

You let out a sharp exhale as you feel Frank being shoved away, the night air cold on your bare pussy, but you’re sent straight back to heaven as Matt’s mouth meets your core, tongue slipping inside your entrance as he spreads you apart with his hands. You recognise him by the way he eats you; he’s so much more gentler than Frank, taking his time with you as he worships your body.

But you’re not ready for the sensation of Frank lapping at your clit while Matt tongue-fucks your hole, the mewls and whimpers falling from your lips spurring them on to lick faster, prod deeper. You feel the pressure behind your stomach building to a crescendo, one that’s broken apart as you hear the sound of scuffling behind you, turning to see that Frank’s put Matt in a headlock.

Your eyes roll backwards in annoyance, frustrated at the way they’ve left you high and dry, a mix of your cum and their saliva dripping down your thighs and no orgasm to match.

“Darlin’?” Frank calls, slamming his hands on Matt’s chest.

“Yes, Frank?” you mumble, stretching your back over the coffee table.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes.”

In a flurry, Frank gets Matt flat on the ground enough that he can’t rise up to retaliate, not quickly at least, before pushing himself right into you. The combination of his thick girth and length makes you sweat, makes your eyes lull back in your head; the burn of the stretch slowly giving way to pleasure as he grinds into you.

He pulls back, far enough that you feel only the tip of him remaining inside, before slamming his hips into yours. You fall apart instantly as he drives his cock into that spot inside you, walls clenching and back arching as you pulsate around him.

Matt gets up, feet poised into a stance that screams ‘I’m gonna fucking kill you, Frank.’

“Did you? Did you just make her –”

“You’re goddamn right I did.”

Matt lets out an angry sigh before he helps you up, leading you to the dining table. He hoists you up on the table, brushing your hair to the side before grinning in your ear, every word dripping with want. “Alright sweetheart, here’s what’s gonna happen okay? I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve. None of that bullshit Castle’s been giving to you this whole time.”

The quiver in your breath makes him chuckle. “Ready for me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours?”

He drags his teeth along your pulse as you murmur ‘yes’ in his ear, nipping at the bruises Frank’s already left on your neck. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he traces himself on your folds, teasing you until you squeeze him, desperate for the gratification you know his cock will provide.

Frank comes up beside you, bending down to swirl his tongue over your nipple, fingers featherlight on your clit as he rubs it in small circles. You bite down on your bottom lip as Matt guides himself inside you, pushing until he can’t go any deeper, Frank’s fingers still wedged in between you.

He grits his teeth as he fucks you, one hand on your waist and the other wrapped around your thigh, the wet squelches of his thrusts almost too much for him to bear. Matt isn’t as girthy as Frank, but he reaches the deepest parts of you effortlessly, pistoning himself at an angle that makes you cry out his name. The way he drills himself into you echoes throughout the room, the sound of his hips snapping against yours the only thing you can focus on before you throw your head back, exploding on him.

Matt’s cocky grin makes you weak as he pulls out, chin levelling into Frank’s glowering stare. He brandishes his hands in front of him, palms pointed to you as if to say, ‘your turn now’.

Frank huffs at Matt as he scoops his hands under your ass, pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He wastes no time in filling your body with his, bending his knees as he drives himself upwards. You’re cockdumb at this point, eyes half-lidded and utterly glazed over, dopey smile the only thing you can muster as Matt tilts your chin up to his, kissing you hungrily as you moan into his mouth. Every thrust pulls from you a little mumble of unintelligible words, every nerve of yours firing at rates you didn’t think possible.

“Who’s winning, baby? Me or Frank?” Matt purrs, tongue scraping along your bottom lip.

“You’re b– fuck! Fuck, Frank!” – you say, in between his ruthless thrusts and the wicked gleam from his smile – “You’re both so good.”

You clench so tightly that Frank pops out of you for a second, but he doesn’t wait a beat to stuff himself back into you, continuing the relentless pace you know will have you ripped apart within minutes.

“That’s not good enough for us, darlin’,” Frank grits his teeth, hands digging into your ass.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even see and I know he’s not fucking you right.”

Frank snarls at Matt, swatting him out of the way as he lifts you onto his cock, off the table. Gripping your lower back, he pumps into you harder, the new angle making you want to tip your head back and howl. Ecstasy shoots through your veins as he carries you to the bedroom, cock still buried deep inside you.

He rakes his nails up your back as he uses your waist as leverage, moving you up and down on his cock with almost no effort at all.

“Yeah darlin’,” he groans, “You feel so fuckin’ good for me, you know that?”

You whimper in response, kissing him to muffle the cry that builds up from within… and your peak sails through your body, every muscle going taut, toes curling, fingernails leaving marks on his shoulders as your overstimulated body responds to his pleasure.

He lowers you on the bed, bracketing your head with his forearms, languid kisses matching the pace of his hips. You can feel every inch of him as he thrusts into you, body expanding to accommodate him as he stills inside.

“You’re fucking infuriating, Castle,” Matt barks, standing over the two of you as he strokes himself.

“Yeah, well, if you ain’t strong enough to fuck her standing, just say so,” Frank chuckles mirthlessly, coaxing you over the edge once more.

“You didn’t give me the goddamn chance!”

“Chance?” Frank spits, squeezing one of your tits, mattress dipping as he gets off the bed. “Oh by all means Red, be my guest.”

You’re caught between a gasp and a sharp exhale as fury embeds itself in Matt’s face, lips contorting into a snarl. You’ve never seen this side of him before; this dark edge simultaneously scaring you and turning you on more than you already are.

Something snaps in Matt.

He moves so quickly you almost miss it, akin to lightning flashing in a thunderstorm, pile-driving Frank into the bed so hard it’s a tangle of limbs and testosterone. Frank hits the bed, hard, hissing as Matt’s fist makes contact with his jaw, and then…

The soft splintering of wood, pricking Matt’s ears, sending him on high alert.

And the bed breaks. Two out of four legs collapsing in on themselves, the entire bed sinking on one side, catching all three of you off guard.

“Oops,” Matt grimaces, sheepish smile adorning his face.

Frank clicks his tongue, shaking his head at the broken bed as he gets up to his feet. “Goddamn it, Red. Really had to let your anger get the better of ‘ya, huh?”

You don’t care that your words are slurring a little. You’re cockdazed, and they better learn how to deal with it real fast. “Oh my God. You know what? I’m so sick of– I should’ve never made this bet if it was gonna get you two riled up like this–”

You wobble as you stand up, scowl scrunching your nose as you bare your teeth. “I’m so–”

Matt shuts you up with a kiss, not caring that your teeth clash a little, pulling you close to him by the ass. The feeling of his hard cock pressed up against your stomach melts you from within, drawing out a moan you can’t bite back.

“You’re right, sweetheart. We’re sorry,” Matt murmurs, tangling his fingers in the back of your head.

“Yeah darlin’, he’s right. We can get uh… a little competitive,” Frank lowers his voice, coming up behind you to press his kisses into your neck.

You scoff, but it’s quickly replaced by a soft sound, one that indicates you’re far from being done.

“I dunno, Red, you think she still wants us?” Frank grits, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Oh yeah,” Matt smirks, rubbing his cock on your clit, “I think she does.”

“I promise we’re gonna make it up to you, alright?” Frank teases, running his finger over the curve of your jaw. “Whatcha say, Red, wanna stuff her and make her scream for us?”

Matt’s devious smirk grows larger. “Only if she’s fine with it.”

He tips your chin upwards, the action exposing your neck enough so Frank can close his hand around it. “Are you fine with that?”

“You got some making up to do, gentlemen.”

“S’that a yes?” they say together.

“Yes.”

“Well, the bed is broken,” Matt sniffs the air, “but, we have all night and the entire apartment to explore, right?”

Matt’s grin is different now. Devilish.

And more so when Frank reciprocates it, eyes glinting with a feral hunger. “You’re damn right.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader smut #the punisher #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #rhi's mutuals 💗#daredevil #rhi responds 💌#saintmurd0ck 200 milestone celebration #rhi writes 💻#x reader

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seradyn · 7 months

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A Dream Come True (Chp. 12)

Chapter 12/35: A King's Garden

Another date with Ardyn; this time he has chosen to show you around the Emperor's gardens.

Link to work masterlist

Word count: 11,588

TW: None

Tags: @savage-rhi @blossom-adventures @ticklemycucumber

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>> What do you mean you won’t be able to play games with me today >:((((((

>> Satus, I do have a life, you know.

>> Life shmife! You always play games with me on Saturday!

You sighed down at the little device, your breath coming out as a wispy cloud under winter’s crisp sun. You were standing outside your apartment, waiting for Ardyn’s attendant to come pick you up, the glow of your phone illuminating your face. A restless crowd shuffled around you, the city alight with the excitement of a freedom the weekend promised.

Your own excitement swirled within you like a happy cloud when you awoke that morning, but it came to a screeching halt, when you remembered your little tradition with your friend. Satus had been the one to suggest it back in college; to de-stress from homework and the like, and neither of you saw a reason to stop when you’d graduated. It was part of your little slice of normal. You always looked forward to it.

You felt guilty for having to cancel with such short notice, but, in all fairness, Ardyn hadn’t given you much notice himself. He’d asked you out again barely twelve hours ahead of time. And on your happiness high, you’d agreed to it without remembering your obligation to your friend. You didn’t mean to leave him hanging like that, it just sort of happened.

>> You know how computers work. Just play something else!

>> Instructions unclear. I keep texting you.

>> Put down the phone then, ya goofy goober.

>> Well, see now, my friend isn’t online yet.

>> Goddamn it Satus! I have to go soon!

>> Alright alright. Do I at least get to know what you’re doing?

>> I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you.

>> >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

You shook your head at his antics, yet you laughed lightly at them too. He always loved to kid around, and being overly dramatic in situations like this was one of his favorite bits. He was probably already over it, giggling to himself about giving you a hard time. You’d have to remind yourself to reschedule your gaming session, as thanks for being a good sport.

The time was nearing 11:55, so you shoved your phone back in your pocket, bouncing on your heels as you waited to be picked up. Unfortunately, Ardyn hadn’t told you what kind of car they were going to drive, so you were left guessing with every vehicle that parked nearby. Your eyes tracked each one like a trained hawk, only to be disappointed when some unimportant businessman or woman got out.

A bell tolled off in the distance, signaling the turn of the hour. Its last chimes were still reverberating through the streets when a sleek, black car pulled up to your apartment building. You watched as a man in a pressed suit stepped out of it, the imperial emblem embroidered on his breast, and your heart skipped a hopeful beat. A bushy mustache of coppery brown hairs sat under his pointed nose, eyes a porcelain pool of rich chocolate as he scanned the bustling streets.

You raised a brow at him, your gazes meeting through the throng of bodies. He looked you up and down once, then nodded gently. Your cue to approach, and you followed it, though you maintained an air of caution.

“Miss,” the man said your name clearly as you came before him, his voice authorative and confident.

“That’s me,” you said, clutching the straps of your purse tightly for comfort.

The man placed his hand over his heart, bowing deeply to you. “The chancellor is expecting you. His Excellency has instructed me to escort you to his location.”

“T-thank you,” you said awkwardly, a bit flustered by the formality of his address. He didn’t seem to mind though, and quickly straightened, opening the car door for you. You thanked him again as you tucked yourself into the leather seat, the door slamming closed after you. You’d been put in the back, behind the front passenger seat, allowing you a clear view out the windshield. The inside smelled of cleaning supplies, and you wrinkled your nose. Ardyn’s car smelled much better.

The driver didn’t say anything as he got in, the vehicle coming to life with a gentle purr. Thankfully, as soon as he’d gotten onto the road, he turned on the radio, saving you from uncomfortable silence as you stared out the window.

…Investigators are still hesitant to rule out foul play in the disappearance of a small family, discovered earlier this morning…

Gralea, while still impressive in the light of day, was a city whose true beauty shined at night. Your date on the town had proven such. The neon lights and the glowing signs flickered under the overwhelming brightness of the sun, unable to compete with the rays that broke through the clouds.

…Witnesses say a strange man was seen visiting the victims just before they were discovered, yet the scene inside would suggest a daemon attack…

The radio crackled as the reporter babbled on, your eyes glued to the outside and your driver remaining silent. At intersections, you could gaze down the corridor of endless skyscrapers, which stretched for many blocks before another wall of glass and concrete blocked your view. Between the buildings, you were able to glimpse where the sky was dominated by an enormous cover of steel and blinking lights. Zegnautus Keep. That was where Satus worked.

And Ardyn, you realized with a squint.

…The frequency and intensity of daemon attacks has grown over the last few weeks. We caution listeners to stay inside and lock their doors at night in these uncertain times…

The driver turned away from the Keep, and it disappeared behind you in a sea of spires. It took you a long time to finally glimpse the marbled walls of the imperial palace, separating the emperor from the rest of the city. It was in a secluded district, across town from where you resided. The buildings gradually thinned, until the car rolled to a stop in front of wide, ornate gates. Seemingly on their own, their hinges shrilling, they creaked open and you entered the palace grounds.

Said building was massive, sprawling with ivory tendrils that stretched to the very edges of its protective wall, like creeping vines of ivy. Unlike the castles you’d seen in storybooks, this one was flater, sturdier, looking more like a fortress than an emperor’s dwelling. What few towers stretched into the grey sky were topped in gold, ornamental buttresses supporting their clawing reach. You could faintly see the main doors, which were dark and inlaid with more gold, a wide set of stairs leading down to the road before it.

In front of the palace, the road stretched out into an O shape, almost like the emperor wanted his guests to admire the palace before he met with them. Patches of green were dotted all around the grounds, grass enclosed by pruned shrubs and sliced by walking paths. In the center of this circular road was a neatly trimmed lawn, which framed a massive statue of the Hexathon. It caught your attention, and you found yourself studying it as the palace loomed closer.

Titan sat at the bottom, heaving a crude chunk of earth over his head. Ramuh, Shiva, and Ifrit were above him, the deities of ice and fire swirling around the middle of the statue in a silent ballet. Ramuh stood between them, his staff thrust importantly into Titan’s stone. Leviathan snaked her serpentine body around all of them, her waves lapping at their heels and her reptilian maw open in a mute roar. Above all the gods, looking down on them as if in subjugation, was Bahamut, his bladed wings spread proudly, his armored talons clutching a detailed sword.

You squinted at him as you began to round the bend. Something about the Draconian…was making you feel strange. A worm of unease wiggled restlessly in your gut as you stared at the god’s soulless eyes. You’d never had much of an opinion on any of the gods, but now, something about them just seemed…off.

It wasn’t as bad as Ifrit’s affect on you, though. His marbled eyes locked forward, his face absent of expression. But you could see it; the anger that burned in his irises, how his nose wrinkled with his hatred for man. You could remember it so clearly, the dream like a thorn in your side, reminding you what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his flames.You blanched, your arm tingling with phantom pain, and you rubbed it instinctively, trying to make the sensation go away.

Stop being weird. Stop letting those stupid dreams get to you.

You let out a slow breath, forcing your gaze away from the statue, and the images out of your head.

That was just as well, as the car began to slow, the stairs leading up to the palace reaching down to you. Now that you were closer, you noticed two soldiers standing on either side of it, their weapons held smartly and heads held high. You stared at them, feeling they seemed odd somehow, but quickly averted your gaze. You didn’t want to be rude.

As soon as the car’s engine died, the attendant nearly leapt out of the vehicle to open your door for you. You smiled at him, and thanked him again as he helped you out. He only nodded in response, gesturing up at the palace doors.

“Please, follow me,” he said, striding ahead of you and starting up the stairs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; you didn’t want to know what those soldiers would do if they found you without a chaperone. Something about them irked you.

When you could see them clearly, you understood why; they were no simple foot soldiers, they were Magitek Troopers. You’d never seen any up close, but you immediately felt off put by them. Apathetic expressions set in steel, unblinking red eyes peering through slits in their visors. You had to wonder why they were given human faces; to unsettle the enemy, or to keep the regular infantry in line?

Either way, they gave you the creeps. You walked closer to the attendant, eyes trained on the soldiers warily. They gave no regard to you or your escort, staying stiffly in place as you walked between them. The attendant seemed unperturbed, giving them as much acknowledgement as they offered, wordlessly pulling one of the ornate doors open for you. You quickly darted inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you could no longer see their blank stares.

While he was busy closing the undoubtedly heavy slab of stone, your eyes widened, taking in the grand foyer. You’d expected the palace to be extravagant, but this almost felt excessive. The ceilings were so high, you had to crane your neck to spot the bejeweled chandeliers hanging from it, intricate designs carved into every inch of the architecture. The palace looked entirely made from white marble, your footfalls echoing hollowly on the polished tiles. The walls were trimmed in gold, and useless artifacts dotted the corners; statues and vases set in all manner of gems. Twin hallways stretched deeper into the palace on either side, undoubtedly filled to the brim with more priceless nick knacks. Your parent’s estate was a slum in comparison.

“Please, right this way.” The attendant strode past you, veering off to the left with the assumption you would follow. And you would be a fool not to, the echoing clop of your footsteps on the tile fading from the lobby as you journeyed deeper into the winding maze. Twists and turns too many to count, past countless sealed doors with more Magitek guards standing watch, your walk was a silent one. You were too busy eyeing the soldiers for conversation, like they may suddenly come to life at the scent of an outsider amongst them. Of course, no such things came to pass, and the halls remained deserted of any other human presence but that of you both. It was…eerie. Almost lifeless. The ridiculous opulence displayed in how much gold was slapped into everything only added to its oppressiveness.

Eventually, after you were sure there was no chance of you remembering the way back, the hallway came to an end, a set of polished wood doors on the farthest wall, flanked by, what else, two more Magitek Troopers. You tensed at seeing them, staying close to the attendant as he walked up to them, turning to you with purpose.

“The Chancellor shall be waiting for you through these doors,” he said, gesturing at them. “You need not worry, the soldiers stationed here have been instructed to treat you with the utmost respect. Though I caution you not to go exploring without his Excellency; they may mistake you for an intruder.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said, looking at them up and down at his obvious warning. They gave no reaction to either of you, set like statues with lights for eyes.

The attendant bowed to you in parting, and you gave him a grateful nod. When he hesitated to take his leave, it dawned on you that perhaps you should tip him. You didn’t mind the prospect; he’d been nothing but kind to you thus far, and you didn’t want to come off as rude. Slinging your purse in front of you, you began digging through it, searching for a bill or coin you could offer him. Because of this, you failed to notice the confusion that donned his face.

“Ma’am, is everything alright?” He asked cautiously, the tonelessness of his voice fading for a moment in puzzlement.

You huffed down at yourself in response, your search coming up fruitless. “I’m sorry,” you said, keeping your gaze down to hide a wave of shame that lapped at your mood. “I don’t have any cash on me.”

The attendant looked you up and down, before giving you a wide smile.

“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” he said with obvious amusement. “The Chancellor ensures I am well compensated.”

You gave him a pointed, unbelieving look. “Really?” You questioned. Ardyn didn’t strike you as someone who cared much for making sure servants were well paid. He hadn’t even bothered to tip your server from the night before.

With an affirming nod that assuaged your worries, you smiled back at him. “Good,” you stated firmly. “I won’t stand for anything less.”

The man chuckled lightly. “I can see why the chancellor is fond of you.”

Your cheeks flamed at that, and you turned away from him. “T-thanks,” You stuttered, unsure what else you could say. The man gave you a final approving look before he departed, disappearing around the corner on light feet. It wasn’t long until his footsteps had faded completely, and you smiled in his direction before turning back to the doors.

Wearily, eyeing the troopers, you reached out and swung the door outward on silent hinges. Rays of light struck your face, forcing your eyes closed as you stepped through the threshold. You jumped when you heard the door close behind you, but then you relaxed. At least you were separated from the MTs now.

Shielding your face with your hand, your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness of the outside, a warm breeze combing through your hair. Even overcast, there was so much more light out here than there was inside the palace. When it didn’t hurt so much to open your eyes, you took in the scene before you, and a breath caught in your throat.

It was green. So wonderfully, organically green. The white tiles gave way to a neat path of cobblestones, weaving in and out of a lush field of grass, whose neatly trimmed blades were left just tall enough to tickle your ankles.

And there were flowers. Rows upon rows of flowers, organized by species and all in full bloom. In winter, no less. Orchids, tulips, roses, sylleblossoms, in more colors than there were in a rainbow. There were hundreds - no, thousands, it must have been. Some with blossoms that hung like bells, and others whose petals were spread wide, reaching upward towards an absent sun. Butterflies and bees obliged their welcoming blooms, gorging themselves on their nectar.

Trees, too, there were trees. Cherry blossoms and hanging willows, their thin branches gently swaying in the breeze. The wind caught on their leaves, singing a soothing lullaby to the birds that wistfully sung back. The stone pathways stretched deeper into the garden, twisting out of sight beneath archways of woven rose bushes. You could hear the faint gurgling of a fountain, hidden behind a wall of vines and brush.

It was like falling into a storybook; too perfect to be real.

And yet it was. You stood there for a long time, just admiring it. Gralea had become so industrial, barely any fauna had survived within its walls. They’d been slashed and burned to make way for imperial bases, for palaces, for office buildings that no one liked. It was so primally joyous to be surrounded by life, in every sense of the word. Like you could feel Eos sigh as her children flourished on her soil.

You were transfixed by the feeling, breathing deeply to catch that organic scent on your nose. So much so, that you jumped slightly when you felt a sudden weight upon your head, a black rim on the outskirts of your vision. Reaching a tentative hand up, you traced the outline of a hat.

“Now I dare say that looks much better on you than it does me,” a silky voice teased from behind you, announcing his presence before he stepped into view. Turning, you saw Ardyn was smirking as he eyed you up and down, but that was nothing new. It was when you noticed him without his beloved headwear that you realized he’d placed it upon your head instead.

Carefully, you traced the rim with a finger, noting the craftsmanship of the little thing. It was definitely designer, yet it looked so silly, combined with the rest of Ardyn’s ensemble. The thought had you smiling softly to yourself.

“Guess you’ve got good taste,” you said, your smile widening into a grin as you glanced at him. He’d walked a few paces ahead, but now he stopped to turn back to you.

“Ah ah ah!” Ardyn wagged a finger at you. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, come along. I’ve had a small luncheon prepared for us, and it would be a shame to let it spoil.”

You flashed him a bright smile. “Sounds wonderful,” you chirped, taking your place next to him as he began to lead you through the maze of flowers. Bright purples and deep blues, peach pinks and blushing reds, you reached out your hand to let your fingers glide gently across their petals. Their touch was like feathers, their aroma like the finest perfumes.

It was enchanting, especially for a city kid like you. You darted from bush to bush, inhaling their dreamy scent before trotting after Ardyn, who ventured off ahead of you. When you stopped for what must have been the tenth time, a merry chuckle chimed in your ears, and you turned, finding Ardyn’s golden eyes on you. His smirk had been twisted with an amused fondness, watching how you enjoyed the flowers with a near childlike innocence. You beamed brightly at him, a wordless thanks for bringing you there. It was gorgeous, and your heart soared with how perfect everything was.

And secluded, you thought, hiding a smirk by sticking your nose into more flowers. No one here to ogle at you this time, thank the gods. Perhaps Ardyn had been paying attention.

As you went to smell more of the flowers, a branch caught your head on something, startling you a little. Right - you were still wearing Ardyn’s hat. Glancing at him, he’d walked a few steps ahead of you again, unaware that you’d fallen behind. A playful smirk pulled at your lips, watching him blissfully saunter on without a care in the world.

Perhaps you should repay him for how he greeted you at the entrance…

You waited until he got a little further away, close to the end of long flowerbeds you walked between. As soon as he did, you quickly darted forward, almost jumping to swiftly place his hat back on his own head. You giggled when it fell over his eyes, his steps faltering in bewilderment as you scurried away, innocently burying yourself in the beautiful flora while he fumbled with the offending accessory. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lift it, revealing his own signature smirk that was equal parts amused and conniving.

Oh, he was so going to get you back for that.

“Best be careful,” Ardyn warned as he walked up to you, admiring the flowers you were using to hide your face. “One might say I’m a reigning champion at such games.”

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes briefly to enjoy the sweetness of the flowers.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, making a show of ignoring him, cupping another flower and bringing it closer, its amber petals almost seeming to glow in the afternoon rays that broke through the cloud cover.

Ardyn let out a laugh, making you smile widely to yourself. Even if you lost whatever game this was, hearing him laugh was prize enough for you.

“Oh, I knew there was a reason I took a liking to you!” He said delightfully. Warmth coated your neck at his remark, and a lock of hair found itself between your fingers.

Gods, him and his assistant?

“Come along now, darling,” Ardyn said, waiting to continue until you joined him. “We’re almost there.”

You shook yourself mentally, willing your blush to subside so you could smile at him. “Coming!”

The path from there diverged in several directions, and once you were at Arryn’s side, he led you deeper into the garden, the shrubs growing larger here. These bushes boasted thick branches and fat leaves, obscuring the rest of the garden with their grasping tendrils. The flowers before had been tall, to be sure, but now they stretched into the sky, as if they desired to be free of the soil that nourished them. It almost felt like those corn mazes you’d heard Satus mention sometimes, but you had no doubt this was infinitely more luxurious than stocks of corn. The flowers popped even more brightly against the darker background, drawing your eyes every which way as you tried to take all of them in.

“Here we are,” Ardyn breathed, coming to a stop at the end of the path. You halted at his side, looking up from the hydrangeas to see where he’d taken you.

Your eyes went wide, a tiny gasp escaping through your half parted lips.

The rows of flower beds gave way to a small clearing, in the center of which stood a proud cherry tree in full blossom. Bright pink tufts of petals coated its elegant branches, which would’ve provided ample shade, if the sun had been out. The ground was covered in the soft down of its buds, like a blanket of strawberry snow. Directly beneath the tree, a towel had been laid out, decorated with the twin dragons of the imperial emblem, who twined themselves down its middle. Atop the fabric was a large circular dish, filled to bursting with all manner of fruits and sweet berries, whose bright colors betrayed a taste of the tropics. To your right, another path spilled into an ornate gazebo, fit with blooming vines that hung down off its domed roof. Butterflies and bees hopped merrily from flower to flower, while birds playfully swooped between the branches, each frolicking in their own little slice of paradise.

“Ardyn…this is beautiful,” you said with unconcealed awe. The fairytale comparison felt even more fitting now, every detail lovingly crafted, like a painter over their latest work.

Ardyn hummed a soft laugh. “I’m pleased it’s to your liking,” he purred, again enjoying how impressed you were. He quite liked that look of amazement you wore.

“I mean…how can this place even exist?” You said, looking around at the peonies that framed the clearing like a halo. “It’s the beginning of winter.”

Ardyn hummed again, as if pondering your question, before wordlessly pointing upward. You followed the gesture, staring up at the gloomy sky with confusion. You squinted, unsure what you were looking for, before your eyes finally caught on what appeared to be a dark line cutting through the sky.

“A greenhouse,” Ardyn answered your unspoken question. “His Radiance had it installed many years ago. Said the palace had grown ‘stuffy’.”

The thought of the emperor having distaste for his own palace made you chortle quietly to yourself, your gaze fixed on the outline of the glass panels in the sky. “Can’t say I disagree with him.”

“I’ll be sure to inform him of your disapproval,” Ardyn teased. “Now, come. Let us enjoy the bounty I’ve had prepared.”

His boots crunched on the crisp lawn, the cobblestones fading to pebbles at the end of the path. The damp soil squished beneath your feet as you stepped to follow him, your restless eyes trying in vain to take in all the scenery. It wasn’t long before you reached the tarp, though you hesitated before it, unsure if you should take your shoes off to keep from tracking mud over it. Although, a glance at Ardyn told you he hadn’t deigned to do so, so you figured it was alright. He was already settling at the base of the tree, his back supported by its wide trunk and his legs stretched out in front of him. You seated yourself on his right, staying close but giving enough space so you wouldn’t touch each other accidentally. The fabric was unbelievably soft, yet kept the prick of the grass blades from stabbing you. Petals rained down gently from the tree above, but they were easy enough to brush aside.

“Please, help yourself,” Ardyn said, pulling the platter of fruit between the two of you. Upon further inspection, it contained more than just fruit, though. Squares of a pale cheese were stacked neatly on one side, with plain crackers butting up against them. Thin slices of a freckled meat were farthest from you, folded neatly over each other.

Ardyn gravitated towards the latter, taking a slice between his fingers and popping it into his mouth. You watched him chew for a moment before eyeing the cheese, hesitantly taking a square. You were a picky eater after all, and again, you worried over liking anything. Although, you spied ulwaat berries amongst the pile of fruit, one of your favorites, so at least you wouldn’t go hungry.

Cautiously, you nibbled off a corner, letting its taste flood your mouth. It was creamy with a light saltiness, becoming smoother as it melted in your mouth, and you let out a contented hum, eating the rest of the square in one bite. The pile of snacks dwindled as you both munched happily, a quiet calm spreading between you.

“I don’t believe we finished getting to know each other,” Ardyn said after he finished, his golden eyes falling to you. You met them with a nod, reaching for some of the blueberries you saw. Their vibrant sweetness exploded on your tongue as you bit through their supple skin.

“Tell me, have you gotten the chance to travel much?”

You shook your head as you gulped down your snack, looking back out at the bordering flower beds. “My parents never cared much to take me when they went on trips. And after I was kicked out, I never had the money.”

Ardyn let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixing ahead of himself. “A shame, really. Though, I suppose that means I’ll just have to show you around.”

You paused, glancing at him quizzically. “Like…show me around the world?”

“Where else?” Ardyn smirked at you, raising a brow challengingly. Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, unwilling to hold his gaze as a wave of heat washed down your shoulders.

He wants to take me around the world? The thought was sweet, yet it almost felt too good to be true. Why would he want to spoil you so much?

“Fear not,” Ardyn chuckled at your rising bashfulness. “I’ll ensure we don’t visit any wineries.”

You huffed a laugh at that, the tension leaving your muscles at his gentle jest. Truthfully, you were quite enchanted with the prospect. You’d been cooped up in the city since birth, and you longed to see what lay beyond those dreary walls. Sure, you’d been to a few places that boarded the city limits; small towns and rest stops when your parents visited their orchard, but aside from that, the outside was a complete mystery to you.

“I’d like that,” you said, a soft smile on your face.

Ardyn smirked. “Music to my ears!” He exclaimed, munching on a piece of cheese. You reached for a cracker, loudly crunching down on its dry saltiness.

“I have been wondering about your culinary tastes as well, though I suppose I should’ve inquired sooner,” Ardyn said. “I take it everything is to your liking so far?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah,” you said, swallowing the last of your cracker. “It’s all lovely, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He plucked some grapes from their bunch, rolling them around in his palm. “So, what is your favorite dish?”

“Hold on,” you said, your smile fading as a slight nervousness invaded your heart. “Last night, you got to ask all the questions. Today, I want to get to know you.”

You met his eyes as you said your piece. You didn’t want to seem pushy, or ungrateful for the dates, but you still didn’t know much about him. If someone asked you to describe him, you would be reduced to mostly talking about his choice of clothing, proving how little he’d revealed to you. Granted, it was only your second time sitting down with him, but you’d done your best to be honest the night before, and you felt you deserved the same courtesy. Though you hoped this wasn’t some invisible line you were stepping over; perhaps there was a reason he wasn’t able to discuss such things.

Ardyn met your questioning glare with a smile, instantly making the unease ebbe away.

“Very well,” he said. “You must forgive me if I seemed recluse; one can never be too cautious in my position. Though it is for that reason I cannot promise I can be entirely forthcoming with you.”

You shook your head with a smile of your own. “That’s okay, I understand. I just want to get to know you better.”

Ardyn gave you an understanding nod. “A reasonable request,” he assured. “Ask away.” He ate his grapes while he waited for your first question, grinding the rinds between his teeth.

Here’s your chance to learn more about him. Where to start… You figured you should start small, ease him into opening up.

“Sooo…what’s your favorite color?”

There was a pause, long enough you thought he may not have heard you, until Ardyn snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “That is what you wished so badly to know about me?”

The tips of your ears burned with self consciousness, and you looked away from him. “It’s just a question,” you said defensively. It was the first one that came to mind, and you figured it was good enough. “I didn’t think it was some big secret.”

Ardyn hummed, staring out at the expanse of flowers around you. Guess it is a secret, you thought glumly as the silence stretched, and he offered no answer. You let out a sigh through your nose, grabbing a slice of meat and eating it. The spices immediately exploded on your tongue, a piercing hotness mixed with a hint of salt and garlic.

“Green.”

You looked up at Ardyn, puzzled. “What?”

“My favorite color,” he met your eyes again, signature smirk in place. “Is green.”

The sourness you felt dissipated, and you brightened. “Yeah? Got a favorite shade?”

“Hmm. Tough one, that,” he mused. “I must say though, the deeper shades often catch my eye. They are incredibly rich colors, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would. I love a good phthalo green.”

“You really know your stuff! Pray tell, what is your favorite color, then?”

“Navy blue,” You said, layering a piece of cheese and meat onto a cracker.

“A most noble choice,” Ardyn cooed. “You certainly have fine tastes.”

“Didn’t used to like it,” You admitted, biting down on your little makeshift toast. The cheese and meat complimented each other quite well, with the cracker adding a light crunch. “It’s grown on me over the years.”

“I can certainly see why,” Ardyn said, smiling to himself. The conversation died down for a spell while you both ate, enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other's company.

At least, that’s what you hoped was happening. You were certainly starting to enjoy being around him.

“What’s your favorite animal?” You broached, once you finished your cracker.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not really one to care for fauna.” Ardyn laced his fingers in his lap, looking quite relaxed as he reclined against the tree.

“Well, what’s one animal you like, then?” Ardyn raised a brow at your insistence, and you flashed him a smile. He let out a sigh, knowing you wouldn’t let him get out of answering in some capacity.

“I have a slight fondness for our yellow-feathered friends,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened, and you gasped dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “So you are a chocobo person!”

“Noticed that, did you?” He chuckled, seeing the twinkle in your eyes. His answer had excited you a great deal.

“How could I not? Everyone knows that song.”

“Then it shouldn’t be so shocking I’m familiar with it.”

“That’s not the shocking part,” you shook your head. “More shocking that you happen to like that song.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “Something to listen to while I fill out paperwork.”

You hummed an agreement at that, chewing on some of the ulwaat berries, their bright sweetness a nice contrast to the saltiness of everything else.

“Might I ask what animal you find yourself fond of?”

“Hmm.” You pondered that as you popped the last of the berries in your mouth. “I also like chocobos, I always thought they were cute. And snakes too, I like snakes.”

“It seems we’re more alike than I thought, in regard to the former. Have you had a chance to ride one before, a chocobo?”

Your smile faded sadly. “No,” you sighed, your childhood dreams of doing so long since fizzled out. “My parents would be mortified by the thought. Always said it was ‘beneath’ us.”

He smirked smugly at the flower beds before himself. “Well, you’ll not have to worry about them any longer,” he said. “Perhaps our first destination should be one of the many ranches that lay to the west. I've heard some have quite remarkable flocks, with your pick of plumage.”

Your lips parted in shock. “You’d take me to see chocobos?” Your parents hadn’t even wanted you near the things, and here was the chancellor, offering to take you?

“But of course!” He flashed you a grin. “When I am not bound by my obligations here, it’ll be a day on my gil.”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded for a moment, before a smile began to tug at your cheeks. “That’s sweet Ardyn, I -…Thank you.” You thought about telling him he didn’t have to, that he didn’t need to spend his money on you, but the look on his face told you he would only insist. It was obvious to anyone this was one of his ways of flirting, and yet…it made your insides feel tangled with a warm fuzziness you couldn’t name.

Although, the former half of his sentence brought up something you’d been wondering about. It was decidedly more intimate than your previous questions though, and you hoped he wouldn’t take offense. But you had been curious.

“What’s it like…being chancellor?”

Ardyn scoffed playfully. “Got tired of small talk, did you?”

“You seemed rather disappointed I started small,” you countered.

“I suppose you have me there,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, to be perfectly honest, being chancellor isn’t as luxurious as one may be led to believe. I could be mistaken for a common accountant, given how often I am tasked with balancing budgets these days.”

“Not a numbers person?” You snickered.

“Oh, quite the contrary.” He waved his hand, swatting away the idea. “My fluency in numeracy is without question; it is the sheer boredom I feel from filling out such paperwork that makes some days drag on.”

“Do you like it? Being chancellor?”

Ardyn nodded. “Indeed I do. It is an honor to serve my country, paperwork and all.”

The way he said ‘my country’ told you there was more to that story, but you decided not to probe. After all, he’d already told you more about his position than you would’ve expected. You smiled though, instead remembering something he’d said the previous night.

“Coworkers and all?” You teased, flashing him a smirk of your own. He scoffed again at that, shaking his head.

“Yes, coworkers and all. Though calling them anything more than imbeciles is being generous.”

You laughed, hearing the clear annoyance in his tone. He didn’t bother trying to hide it.

“Why don’t you just fire them?” You questioned. “You’re like second in charge, right?”

Ardyn smiled, you supposed at your naivety. “That I am, though I am not in charge of his Radiance’s cabinet. I’m afraid I’m stuck with whomever the Emperor chooses.”

“Bummer,” you said, and Ardyn nodded. Would that he could get rid of those fools, but it was as he said; he was powerless in that regard.

“I trust what I’ve told you shall stay between us?” He asked, glancing at you. After all, he had to play nice with them, at least for the most part.

“Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“How relieving,” he sighed contentedly. “Have my answers satisfied you enough to permit me an inquiry?”

“Alright, go ahead,” you said with a wave of your hand. He’d earned it. “You wanted to know my favorite food?”

“Actually I had something else in mind,” he said, turning to you. “Have any of the flowers here caught your eye?”

“O-oh,” his question caught you off guard, and you tried to remember all the different kinds you’d seen. There were so many, it was hard to settle on just one. “I liked the orchids we passed, I’ve always been fond of those. But really, everything here has been beautiful.”

“Orchids, hm?” He echoed, considering that for a moment. Without another word, he abruptly stood up, shaking the tiredness from his limbs and stretching a little. You looked up at him with bewilderment, wondering if you’d said something wrong.

“Worry not, I’ll be just a moment.” He smiled down at you. “Please, help yourself to anything you see. What’s mine is yours.”

With that, he left you under the tree, disappearing into the thicket of roses and thorns. You stared at his back as he left, wondering where he was going, but given his sudden interest in your flower preferences, you figured he may be gathering a bouquet for you. Not exactly subtle, though given his manner of dress, you supposed subtly wasn’t his strong suit. Still, the thought had you blushing, it was quite sweet, if that was indeed what he was doing. The man wasn’t kidding when he said he enjoyed chivalry.

While you waited for him to return, you scooted to the edge of the blanket, admiring the pink and yellow blooms all around you. Some leaned over the raised beds in which they resided, beckoning you to sample their luscious scents. You could hardly refuse them, smiling as their gentle petals caressed your face.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but you were soon startled out of your blissful indulgence when, again, something was placed on your head. This was definitely not a hat though, more of a circlet, and when you reached up to touch it, you felt flowers beneath your fingers.

Turning around, you were surprised to find Ardyn kneeling behind you, a wide, satisfied grin on his face. You hadn’t even heard him return, nor felt the blanket dip from the addition of his weight. The man was like a ninja when he wanted to be.

Carefully, you removed the circlet from your head so you could look at it. Your breath caught as you held it out in front of yourself, staring in stunned awe. Ardyn hadn’t simply gotten you a bouquet, no, the man had made you a flower crown. Comprised of the flowers you told him were your favorite, the craftsmanship was breathtakingly immaculate. Each of their stems were woven together at the perfect length, leaving just enough room for the flowers to create a stunning halo. Not a leaf was out of place, each of the dozen or so blooms he’d used pointing outward and on full display. You held it with the utmost care, afraid you might undo the stems should you treat it wrong.

“Do you like it?” Ardyn asked proudly, sitting on his shins and watching while you turned over the delicate crown.

“Like it?” You gaped at him, looking into his honied irises. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you might,” he snickered. You continued to admire his handiwork, turning the little thing over and feeling the petals between your fingers, which grew sticky from their yellow pollen. Ardyn simply watched you examine it, before he decided to gently cup your hands in his, guiding you to place it back on your head. You could feel the callouses on the tips of his fingers, and the warmth that sent a tingle down your arm, your heart skipping a beat.

“After all, it suits you…花の姫.” (Hana no hime; flower princess).

He let go as your eyes went wide, part of you unsure if you were hearing correctly. But no, he’d definitely just called you flower princess in ancient Lucian. The sweetness in his voice had a mad heat trickle down the tips of your ears, a blush spreading across your fair cheeks.

“I don’t know about ‘princess’,” you said shyly. “But you’re definitely かっこいいです.” (Kakkoii desu; handsome).

“Oh my!” Ardyn quipped. “Feeling bold today, are we?”

“You make me so,” you said, giggling at his prideful smirk. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, the compliment had certainly stroked his ego.

“I really am a bad influence, aren’t I?”

You both shared a laugh at the thought, though you couldn’t help but think it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. His own eccentricities made you feel more comfortable being yourself, which meant you could match his playful energy. Honestly, you were thankful for it, even if you weren’t sure why you felt the way you did.

When your laughs had been swallowed by the garden, Ardyn returned to his place under the tree, settling with his back against it. You watched him, waiting until he was comfortable before following him. You hesitated when you got back to where you were sitting before, debating with yourself if you should get closer to him, and you ultimately decided you did. You liked being near him. So you shoved the platter of food aside, causing Ardyn to raise a brow, but he made no protest. You plopped down next to him, only a few inches of space between you two, close enough you could smell his cologne.

“Might I ask you another question?” Ardyn said, once you’d settled in beside him.

“Sure,” you nodded to him.

“What is your greatest desire in life?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected that one from him; it was a bit of a deviation from where you’d left off. “You’re asking me about philosophy?”

He looked over at you, a knowing smile on his face. “It’s just a question,” he teased dramatically, and you scoffed.

“Alright alright,” you said with a wave of your hand. You didn’t mind the question, though you took a moment to really ponder it, a thousand different suitable answers coming and going, yet none feeling quite right. Sure, there were lots of things you desired, but none feeling worthy enough to say your life was dedicated to it. Not until you found something that really spoke to you.

“To make people happy,” you said truthfully. “I know what it feels like to be hated by people who are supposed to love you, and I don’t want anyone to have to face that alone. So I try my best to be kind. I don’t always succeed, but I try. If it means it can make someone a little happier, if my dumb joke made someone laugh, I think that makes it all worth it.”

“Hmm,” Ardyn stared ahead at the flowers, his eyes half lidded. “Spoken like a true altruist.”

You shook your head with a smile. You weren’t sure about that, but you wouldn’t argue. “What’s yours?”

Ardyn’s gaze traveled upward, watching the pink petals float down from the tree, swaying gently in the artificial wind.

“To bring justice to those who have wronged me,” he breathed. There was a dreaminess in his voice, and he seemed lost in thought as he said it. You stared at him, watching as unnameable emotions swirled in the depths of his eyes, and you felt a pang of sadness pierce your own heart. It sounded like whatever it was had been haunting him for a long time. You wanted to ask for details, but you knew it wasn’t your place to pry, especially in that moment.

Instead, you tentatively reached over, taking one of his hands into yours and giving it a gentle squeeze, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly. Ardyn blinked away his thoughts, returning to the present as he slowly met your eyes.

“I hope you succeed,” you said, giving his hand another squeeze, accompanied with a reassuring smile. He seemed startled by your words for a breath, before he regained his composure and matched your warm expression.

“Thank you,” he said, and you knew he was being sincere. The playful lilt that ever flavored his speech was noticeably absent.

You nodded to him as you let his hand go. The two of you allowed the silence to stretch, listening to the leaves rustle and the birds chirp. Both of you leaned your backs against the great tree, her bark smooth and welcoming. It was nice, just experiencing all that with him, and your heart soared with how well everything had gone so far. You wouldn’t mind spending many days like this, enjoying the quiet serenity of each other.

And then an idea popped into your head. You straightened slightly, glancing over at Ardyn. He looked quite relaxed, happily gazing at the bees that hopped from flower to flower. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, suddenly nervous about what you wished to ask him. His earlier words echoed in your head while you tried to sum up what little courage you had.

Feeling bold today, are we?

Why yes, yes I am, you thought, deciding to go through with it.

“Hey Ardyn?”

“Yes?”

“Can I…cuddle you?”

There was a pause. Ardyn’s brow furrowed, and he looked at you, puzzled.

“I beg your pardon?” He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Like, snuggle,” you said, wringing your hands while you felt another blush coming on. “You know; like holding each other.”

Ardyn seemed to think on the idea, like it was foreign to him. Then, an amused smile touched his lips.

“You’re certainly welcome to try,” he said with a shrug.

Challenge accepted.

You scooted closer, watching his face to make sure he was okay with what you were doing. He seemed indifferent so far, though he watched you out of the corner of his eye. Just before your bodies met, that’s when you made your move. Quickly, you crawled into his lap, making sure to be gentle as you settled into him. Ardyn made a startled sound, but did not protest your actions. You made yourself comfortable right under his chin, burying yourself in his many layers of fabric, his scent all around you. You closed your eyes in bliss, resting your head against his chest as your body soaked up his warmth.

“Is this okay?” You asked, looking up at him. His eyes were slightly wide, and his hands hovered at your sides, like he wanted to hold you, but was afraid of doing so.

“…Yes,” he said, but you could hear uncertainty in his tone.

“It’s okay if it’s not,” you said. “I’m just a cuddle bug.” It was true; ever since you were a child you’d loved cuddling. It felt so nice. It felt like love.

Ardyn took a moment to shed his doubts, but once he did, he chuckled softly, his arms finally wrapping around you, holding you to himself. One cupped the small of your back, while the other held your arms, his thumb carding across your skin. He brought his knees up, cradling you in his lap, which brought a smile to your face, knowing he had accepted this. You felt so comfortable, so safe being held in his arms.

“It’s quite alright, dear,” Ardyn said, and you could feel the words in his chest, next to his heartbeat. The vibrations felt so oddly familiar. “It’s simply…been a long time.”

You shook your head at that, another pang of sadness zipping through your chest. “Next time, I’m holding you.”

He let out a laugh, and you smiled.

“What a sight that would be,” he said, resting his chin atop your head. You could feel his sharp stubble prick your scalp, and you couldn’t help but think it felt nice. You sighed deeply as the conversation died down, Ardyn beginning to massage your skin with the pads of his fingers. His breaths were long and deep, and you enjoyed how they felt against your own.

When your eyes drooped close for a second time, a wave of drowsiness wafted down your shoulders. Don’t fall asleep, you warned yourself, but your body had other plans. Surrounded by Ardyn’s warmth, snuggly tucked into the gentle fabric of his scarves, the soft thumping of his heart began to lull you to sleep. You tried to keep yourself from succumbing, shaking yourself and blinking the sleepiness from your eyes, but you soon lost the strength to do so. You felt your body relax into Ardyn as you were pulled into the void of blissful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn’t used to feeling like this.

Not anymore.

Though, he could remember a time when it wasn’t uncommon. Where if some lucky interloper had claimed to have seen him basking in the gift of life, of love, it wouldn’t have seemed so outlandish. When he often found himself in the royal gardens, with the most wonderous woman on Eos in his arms, or him in hers…

But those warm memories had long faded to empty, darkened coals.

Yet, holding you, a parallel to those lost memories, he found himself reminiscing. As he nuzzled his face into your hair, pushing gentle kisses into the top of your head, he could see it. See her. The smell of flowers lingered from the crown he’d made you, and he was transported back to a time before he’d lost all he’d loved. He could smell the field of wheat they both adored, the sylleblossoms they traded, the fragrant wood of that old willow tree. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was Aera cradled in his lap, Aera whom he held like his most precious treasure.

But when he looked down…what he found was not his beloved. He saw you instead, sleeping like a babe, unaware of the turbulence that twisted his innards.

And part of him hated that. Was enraged that you made him feel the way she did.

He was filled with the sudden urge to shove you off himself. To yell and scream and even slay you for trying to usurp his heart.

His hardened gaze glared at your unconscious form at the thought.

He could kill you. The daemons hummed with glee at the prospect.

It would be so easy. Like trimming fussy, overgrown rose bushes…

…but he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Some part of him liked this. Your warmth. Relished in it, cherished it. It had been too long since someone truly cared for him, wanted what was best for him. It had been even longer since someone held him, ran their fingers across his skin with unconditional reverence. Those notions had died with Aera, when he became the Gods’ perfect monster.

Though despite his misgivings, you’d opened your own heart to him. It had taken some prying, to be sure, but you’d offered him something he hadn’t experienced in centuries. A connection that ran deeper than surface level, down to the very core of his being. What shriveled up, broken and blacked pieces of it that remained. He could see it when he looked into your eyes, the sheer amount of empathy they held, even from what little he’d told you. Somehow, you already cared for him.

And that fact was utterly terrifying.

Ardyn let out a frustrated sigh, watching the way it disturbed your hair. He brushed a stray lock of it out of your face, delighting in the softness of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers. Savoring how your lungs pushed on him with every breath. The feeling of your body relaxing into his.

Someone in this time cared for him. Trusted him.

He pulled you further into his chest, holding you tightly.

He wanted that. He needed that.

“Well played…” he murmured, a smirk blooming on his face. The Gods had certainly given him an apt challenge.

You stirred in his grasp, startling him out of his thoughts. He loosened his grip so you could move, watching as you sleepily crawled upwards, nuzzling the side of his face before placing a kiss on his jawline.

He blinked at the sudden affection, unsure how to respond, but you didn’t seem bothered by that. You immediately fell back asleep, settling into his form and breathing deeply.

He remained unmoving for a moment, before a sly chuckle left his lips.

“Quite the minx you are,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you once more.

“You seemed tense,” you surprised him with your voice, thick with a dreamy fog.

He huffed a small laugh at that. Perhaps you weren’t as oblivious as he thought.

“Not untrue, my dear,” he purred. “…Not untrue.”

He could feel his own eyelids begin to grow heavy. Ardyn rested his face against yours, breathing in deeply your scent as they drooped closed. His last words hung in the air as he succumbed to the temptation, a peaceful darkness welcoming him as he drifted away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ardyn wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he felt his consciousness slowly return. His eyes stuttered open, a groggy groan parting his lips as sleep slipped through his fingers. Much to his pleasure, it had been a dreamless rest.

“Your Excellency?”

He met the eyes of the meek attendant who’d awoken him, allowing his displeasure to frolic on his face. At least your own sleep hadn’t been ruined by the intrusion.

“I hope for your sake this is something important,” Ardyn warned, satisfied when the poor fellow visibly began to sweat.

“M-my apologies sir,” he stuttered. “But his Radiance has requested an audience with you.”

Ardyn let out an exasperated sigh, looking down at your sleeping form regretfully. “I suppose I’ll have to go see him then,” he said, barely containing his annoyance.

“My apologies, sir.”

Ardyn waved his hand, and the attendant scurried away immediately, happy to have escaped with his job intact.

Peering down at you, Ardyn let out a sorrowful sigh. Nuzzling his cheek against your forehead, he wondered how he was going to wake you. Part of him wanted to say to hell with the emperor, but he had too much left to do for that just yet. Still, he was quite sad what little peace he’d found that day was already coming to an end. Moments like that were so rare, he wanted to prolong it for as long as he could. Alas, the emperor was not a patient man.

“Darling…” Ardyn whispered, nudging you with his cheek. When you gave no response, he said your name, a little louder now. You roused slightly at hearing it, whimpering as you began to regain consciousness. Stubbornly, you burrowed yourself deeper into the folds of his clothes, hiding your face from the setting Sun. Ardyn smiled at your defiance, but he knew you couldn’t stay there forever.

“I’m afraid our time for naps has come to an end,” he said gently. You groaned, clutching onto him like he may disappear without a moments notice.

“Don’t wanna,” you said into his chest. Your voice was muffled by his coat and scarves, but he could still hear how the words were slurred through half-conscious lips.

Ardyn narrowed his eyes at you, then smiled. He let out a dramatic sigh, allowing his arms to fall limp at his sides.

“Whatever am I going to tell The Emperor?” He lamented, lacing his voice with facetious despair. “I fear he would not be so forgiving, were he to discover the fault for my tardiness was yours. I am only looking out for your safety.”

That got you moving. You sat up immediately, your eyes wide as you looked at him in shock. “The Emperor? Gods Ardyn, I’m sorry!” You started scrambling to become presentable, leaning out of his lap to brush crumbs off the blanket, adjusting the hem of your shirt, and frantically combing your fingers through your disheveled hair.

“Darling…darling,” Ardyn said, the urgency in his voice giving you pause.

“There’s no need to be so nervous!” He spoke between laughs. “His Radiance isn’t coming here, he has simply requested an audience with me.”

You stared at him for a moment, before you let your shoulders sag, sighing in relief. “Jeez Ardyn, don’t scare me like that. Still, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Come now, there’s no need for that,” he rubbed circles into your back with his thumb to reassure you. “It’s not often I have the luxury of a midday nap.”

A wide smile spread across your face. Ardyn almost wanted to reach out and pinch your adorable cheeks, but he resisted the urge.

“Yeah? Did you like it?”

He nodded. “That I did. ‘Twas nice to feel relaxed, if only for a little while.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” you said, and the warmth in your eyes almost made Ardyn feel lightheaded.

When was the last time someone looked at him like that?

“But I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Just as quickly, your face darkened again with guilt. Undeserved guilt, but Ardyn could see it nonetheless, and something inside him didn’t like it. Gently, he cupped your face in his hand, bringing your eyes back to him and tracing shapes into your cheek.

“You’re much too hard on yourself,” he said softly. “No such thing shall come to pass. And even should it, the blame would not rest on your shoulders.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, worry etched into your features, before you sighed loudly. “Okay,” you said, yet the worry didn’t fade. “If you say so.”

Arden flashed you a reassuring grin. You remained stoic as you looked at him, until your eyes absentmindedly flicked up, and you abruptly started giggling. Ardyn raised a brow at you, puzzled by the sudden change in demeanor.

“Something amusing?” He asked.

You smirked at him. “Yeah,” you said through another bout of snickers. “You have petals on your hat…and in your hair.”

Ardyn blinked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “You look cute like that.”

“Cute?” Ardyn huffed indignantly. “You insult me.”

“Oh come on,” you leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek with your nose. His lips parted in surprise from the affection, and you smiled big at him. “You’re adorable.”

Ardyn scoffed, making you laugh. He shook his head at you, before his smirk returned at full force.

“Well…I suppose it’s not as bad as having petals running down the front of my shirt.”

Your eyes went wide, smile gone as you looked down to find, indeed, there were petals going down your chest. Some had settled on your breasts, a few even found their way into your bra.

“Ugh, Ardyn!” You cried, flinching away from him to frantically swat away the petals. He laughed loudly while your ears burned a bright red, pulling your shirt up to hide your modesty. Ardyn couldn’t help but enjoy the irony of this situation, given how eager you’d been the other night, but he supposed this was his doing. Besides, you were technically ‘in public’, at least more so than you’d been at your apartment.

“Come now darling!” Ardyn said through bouts. “I have enough respect for you not to stare. At least…not much.”

You glared at him, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “You’re bad.”

“Never claimed to not be,” he said with a shrug. You shook your head at him, even as a chuckle bubbled up from your throat.

“Guess that’s why I like you.” You grinned at him.

His own smirk grew at that. His heart skipped a beat, and he told himself that’s because of how perfectly his plans were unfolding. You would be much easier to keep an eye on now.

“You’ve no idea how delighted I am to hear that,” he purred, grasping your hand and bringing it to his lips, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. It was cute how you tried to hide your blush by looking away, but Ardyn was far too keen for such things.

“I’m glad,” you spoke shyly, even while a happy grin remained on your lips. “So, when can I see you again?”

“Yes, about that,” Ardyn gave your hand a light squeeze before releasing it. “I had hoped you would join me for a little celebration the Emperor is putting together in half a fortnight. It will be a grand ball filled with all his Radiences greatest luxuries. Would you do me the honor of being my guest for the evening?”

“Oh gosh, Ardyn,” you said, wringing your hands nervously. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of thing, I’ve never spoken to any nobles besides you. I don’t even have anything nice to wear.”

“Nonsense!” Ardyn boasted. “It would be a privilege to have you at my side for the night. And you needn’t worry about attire nor your manners; I shall provide you with both.”

The look you gave him was full of doubt. “That’s sweet Ardyn, a-and I’m flattered, really, but…are you sure you want to be seen with me? What if I embarrass you or say something stupid?”

He supposed he couldn’t be surprised by your shyness, but seeing you like that nearly made him feel pity for you. Your self doubt was a plague, much like the rage of his own daemons, the both of you silent puppets to their whims. He almost felt sorry for you.

Almost.

“You needn’t worry,” Ardyn said softly, grasping your chin in his fingers to force your eyes back to himself. “I’m sure the noble houses will be too busy with their own jealousy, courtesy of the beautiful maiden at my side.”

That got a laugh out of you. He grinned as he let go of your face, the sound like a gentle wind chime, coaxed into singing by a soothing breeze. He found himself liking the sound, as odd as it was to acknowledge that.

“What happened to ‘flattery will get you nowhere’?” You asked with a knowing smirk. Ardyn returned the sentiment with his own signature smugness.

“Well…if you’d rather I didn’t call you such…”

“No no,” you said quickly, placing your head in the open palm he offered. You hummed happily as his thumb carded across your supple cheek. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I figured you would,” he said. “Now, I’m afraid we must be going, dearest. The emperor will only wait so long.”

You nodded. “Right.” Reluctantly, you crawled out of his lap, standing so you could stretch out a little. Ardyn found himself feeling cold now that you were gone, but he ignored that, rising to begin the trek back through the garden. You followed along behind him, taking one last look at all the flowers as you went.

“Oh, shouldn’t we bring the plate in?” You asked just as his boots touched the cobblestone pathway. He turned to see you looking at the platter of forgotten food, and he had to chuckle at your question.

“You’ve no reason to fret; a servant shall come and retrieve it for us,” he said.

“Oh…right.” You hurried after him, shoes crunching on the pebbles of the walkway. The journey back to the entrance was peaceful, and Ardyn enjoyed once again watching you bounce from flower to flower, gently caressing their delicate petals before darting to the next. You were more excitable than he would’ve guessed from your previous encounters.

Of course, Ardyn insisted on seeing you to the palace gates, which you were more than happy to agree to. He led you through the winding hallways, and you remained respectfully quiet, even while a soft smile still adorned your face. It wasn’t long before the palace’s grand doors came into view, with his most senior servant waiting obediently next to them.

“Justin will show you home,” Ardyn said, gesturing at said man. He bowed respectfully to the both of you as you approached, posture picture perfect.

“Of course Your Excellency. I will bring around the car.”

“See that you do,” Ardyn dismissed him, and he was out the door with a trained swiftness. He turned back to you, and you smiled at each other.

“Thank you, Ardyn,” you said. “It was all so wonderful. I’m glad you brought me here.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning that he was touched. “You’re very welcome dear,” he cooed. “I shall see you on the evening of the gala. In the meantime, I shall have suitable attire sent to your abode. You can expect it on Friday.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you Ardyn. I-I really don’t know what to say, that’s very sweet of you. You know you don’t have too.”

“Oh, but it’s been so long since I’ve had the chance to spoil someone. All I ask is that you join me for the festivities.” He raised his arms theatrically, indicating the decadent palace around you.

You giggled at his dramatics, your eyes full of warmth as you gave him one last smile. “Alright, I’ll see you then.” You waved at him as you turned, beginning to follow after the attendant. Just as you came to the door, you glanced over your shoulder, meeting his eyes. Ardyn titled his head inquisitively, watching indecision contort your expression. He thought it rather amusing, how you often seemed to struggle with internal debates.

Finally, you made up your mind. Without warning, you darted back to his side, standing on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his left cheek. Ardyn’s eyes widened, and you smirked proudly back at him.

“I’ll see you next week,” you said merrily. With that, you were gone, out through the double doors before Ardyn could respond. He stared after you for a moment before letting out a light laugh. You’d surprised him more than once today, and for that he was grateful, even if he knew the palace hands would doubtless be busy, spreading rumors of the chancellor’s newest toy. Perhaps that would get the obnoxious suitors that try to court him off his back for a little while.

He could muse about all that later though. He made his way back through the endless halls, the scarce servants scattered about bowing to him deeply as he walked by them, descending into the lower bowels to retrieve his beloved automobile. All the while, much of his thoughts were taken up by you. Reliving those soft moments you shared, analyzing the feelings that accompanied them. It was fascinating, for someone like him. The fluttering in his chest…he couldn’t tell if he despised it or adored it.

He wondered if you remembered the flower crown still perched on your head. You looked so heavenly with it…part of him hoped you would keep it. Would smell the blooms and think of him.

Even if the rest of him was swathed with rage. For none of this would matter, in the end. All that mattered, was that he got his revenge…

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Can you tell my love language is physical touch? 🤣🤣

I want to thank everyone that included me in those tag/ask games, even though I didn’t have time to do them. Thank you for thinking of me 💕💕

Next chapter is gala time!

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x you #a dream come true #ffxv fic #ffxv fanfic

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koshkamartell · 7 months

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No One But Me

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*chapter warnings* - alcohol consumption, noncon/dubcon piv

Ellie had spent a solid 15 minutes during dinner detailing the new comic she was in the process of illustrating. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she babbled on and gestured animatedly with her small hands. You listened dutifully, adding comments and asking questions where appropriate, trying to appear sincere in your interest. It was difficult to focus when the anxiety was still churning in her stomach and the welts on your flesh were throbbing.

Seeing Joel in the mess hall had rattled you. The pressure from Ellie, as well as the fact that your thoughts had been so convoluted all day, meant you hadn't even considered the possibility of Joel being there at the same time. The way he had stomped out of the mess hall soon after your arrival made you even more uneasy. You wondered where he was going, what he was thinking. You were too consumed with thoughts of Joel to notice Ellie's eyes narrow on you like a snake watching it's prey.

"What's this?" Ellie suddenly blurted.

She grabbed hold of one of your hands and yanked your blouse sleeve up your arm. You squeaked and pulled away from her but it was too late - Ellie had already seen the faint red rope marks on your wrist. You batted her away gently and she let go of your hand.

"The fuck happened to your wrist?" She frowned, her big eyes flickering from your hand to your face.

"Nothing, El," you lied cooly, tugging your sleeves down to properly cover the marks. "The cuffs on this shirt are a bit too tight, I think."

You would never hurt Ellie by telling her the truth. You cared about her far too much to purposely expose her to Joel's darker side and jeopardise her happiness. Or Joel's.

She searched your face for a moment, scrutinising your features for some indication of dishonesty. You mirrored her sober glower playfully, then stuck out your tongue. It was an attempt to break the tension and distract her, and it seemed to work. Ellie giggled a little, uncertainty still evident in the crease of her brows, but she let the moment pass without any more dispute. She changed the subject back to her comic idea, fortunately for you.

"Anyway, so the main character of this story is going to be like, really fuckin' smart..." Ellie continued rambling.

After another ten minutes, Ellie had only eaten half her plate of vegetables and venison before abandoning you in favour of a party she had been invited to. You didn't mind. Infact, you were relieved. It was the perfect opportunity for you to bolt back home and retreat under the covers of your bed. But just as Ellie was walking out the door, Kate, Rhi and Jess almost collided with her as they came strolling in.

Kate spotted you instantly and called out your name, waving to you enthusiastically. You sighed to yourself and waved back half heartedly. It looks like your plans would have to wait.

******

Joel was dozing on the couch later that evening when there came a succession of loud knocks on his front door. He groaned as he got up, his back stiff and aching, and made his way to the door in a only a few large strides. He thought it must be Ellie coming home early from the party - but deep down he hoped it was you coming over to collapse into his arms and beg for his touch.

When he opened up the door he was greeted by Tommy. Tommy stood on the doorstep with his hands on his hips, his mouth downturned in grim sobriety. His expression made Joel stand to attention instantly.

"Tommy? Whatsa matter?" Joel asked straight away. "Ellie alright?"

"Ellie's fine. But Carl spotted raiders North West of the mountain this evenin'," Tommy explained with calm urgency, his voice low despite no one else being nearby. "We need to get a group out there and scoutin' by day break at the latest."

"Fuck," Joel muttered, shifting his eyes up and sighing.

Raiders were not a common threat but they posed a serious danger to the safety of the community. They usually consisted of groups of more than a dozen men, all of them armed somehow, searching for any place or any people to strip of supplies. With its agricultural vitality, amenities and abundance of resources, Jackson would be a prime target for raiders.

They had to gather some patrolmen and venture outside to find them.

Joel and Tommy knew first hand how ruthless raiders could be. It pissed Joel off to think of a bunch of strangers trying to bust their way into his town, wanting to steal what did not belong to them, thinking they were some big bad gang. Joel would gladly execute them all on the spot.

Joel's eyes flickered back to Tommy, who was staring back at him with a steely resolve that signalled he was ready to hunt and slaughter these assholes right this minute. Joel's jaw ticked.

He had to do it. He had to go. There was no way he wouldn't. Joel gave his brother a decisive nod, indicating he was prepared to join him.

"Round up Harry and Troy, meet me at the gate at 4o'clock," Joel ordered in a low voice. "Don't tell no one what's goin' on. Only Maria."

Tommy nodded in agreement then spun around on his heel, stalking away from the house and into the darkness of the night.

Joel ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. There would be a slight change of plans tonight, but it would still work out. He had been on a few of these missions before, special patrols where the more experienced men tracked and hunted groups of raiders and infected and eliminated them. Such operations could take anywhere from a couple of days to a month, depending on the weather conditions and the expanse of area that was being compromised.

It was impossible to tell how long Joel would be away for this time. He couldn't risk leaving without seeing you first. He needed to be certain that you wouldn't forget that it was he who took care of you, his hands your heart was cradled in, he who owned you. You were definitely frightened of him right now, so he planned to assuage that fear with something more pleasurable.

Joel glanced at the clock hanging in the loungeroom wall and took note of the time. 9.20pm. There was still time to have a drink and visit you before he had to leave for this expedition.

Joel started up the stairs to begin packing his bag.

******

You pushed the peas and mashed potato around your plate with your fork, only partly paying attention to the conversation happening around you.

You randomly wondered if any of them had been in a situation like yours before, if they too had loved someone who hurt them but were too ashamed to confine in anyone. Probably not, you deduced. They were so much braver and stronger than you. They weren't fucked up like you were.

"Are we having a party at the Bison for Cassie, a big final hurrah before she gets married to one dick for the rest of her life?" Rhi asked, earning a round of giggles from your friends. You were too preoccupied with your thoughts to join in.

Jess snapped her fingers infront of your face. "Hello? We need your input here!"

You jolted upright, accidentally irritating the marks on your backside and briefly wincing from the pain. You looked around at your friends' amused faces. "Yeah, sure, sounds fun."

"You okay?" Kate asked tentatively. She wasn't entirely oblivious to your mood, it seemed.

"Yeah," you replied casually, forcing a tight smile. "Just thinking of Cassie's gift and the design for her glory box."

Rhi clapped her hands together and squealed. "Oh! I forgot to tell you guys! I spoke to Sheila at the haberdashery and she said she has a panel of satin that would be perfect for Cassie's present. It looks alot like her dress, too."

You made a more conscious effort to engage in the conversation, not wanting any more attention on you.

"The wedding is in a month, so we better get working on it," you said confidently.

"How about tomorrow night?" Jess suggested.

You and your friends remained in the dining hall for the next half an hour going over your plans for Cassie's gift and the preparations for her hens night. It ended up being a welcome distraction for you and by the time you all finished dinner and agreed to go hang out at Kate's house, you felt a little less on edge.

******

By the time dusk crept over the town and the specks of stars appeared across the canvas of the evening sky, Oscar knew he was going to have a difficult time falling asleep that night.

His day hadn't been particularly stressful or challenging - infact it had been quite easy going - but from time to time he would wake up with a heaviness in his chest, and today was one of those days.

From this morning up until now, he felt an underlying anxiety inside him, a sorrowful clawing at his heart that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Unconsciously he knew why it was there. He had sort of been expecting it. But despite the years of enduring this burden of melancholy, Oscar had never quite gotten used to it.

And so instead of wallowing in his room with only the dark shadows of his memory for company, he decided to go to the Tipsy Bison and have a drink. He rarely drank to get drunk, but just enough to feel something close to happiness, a balm to soothe his unspoken hurt and make him forget for a little while. It helped with the nightmares.

When Oscar stepped out onto the street to begin the walk to the bar, he was struck by how beautiful and clear the night sky was, how the stars twinkled so prettily against the backdrop of black and deep blue. He marvelled at the heavens above him as he walked, welcoming the distraction from the dull ache in his ankle.

It was almost healed now. He would be back to patrolling soon. But right now he was enjoying the library shifts alot. It was different. It was new. And you were there.

The atmosphere of the main street was quiet and lonesome at this time of night. The cool air nipped at the nape of his neck, a timely reminder of the impending change of season, he thought to himself.

Oscar wished he could see you right now. Just to say hello. Ask if you were really alright. You looked sad today at the school and it worried him. Although he hadn't known you for very long, he found himself caring about you quite alot. There was something about you that attracted him. Not necessarily physically - although you were certainly beautiful - but emotionally and intellectually. He enjoyed the way you spoke and described things, how you listened to what he said with genuine interest, how your quiet company relaxed him and soothed the unrest in his heart.

But you were probably busy with your friends. Oscar supposed you must be popular in the community. How could you not be? You probably had a boyfriend, too; but he hadn't been daring enough to ask you about that. It didn't matter, though. He was content to be your friend. He just hoped you wanted his friendship, too.

When Oscar reached the Tipsy Bison he pushed open the saloon style doors and relished the hallmark ambience of the bar rush over him; the twang of the country music coming from the battered jukebox in the corner, the voices of the patrons talking and arguing, the yellowing glow of the lights pouring through the light haze of cigarette smoke. The Tipsy Bison was a little less than half full but was by no means subdued.

Oscar didn't stop to survey his surroundings before approaching the bar and ordering a beer. He took a seat on one of the stools and leaned his elbows on the counter, then ran a hand through his black curls. The anxiety was slowly consuming his thoughts, to the point that he hadn't even realised that Joel was sitting two spaces away from him.

Always vigilant of what was going on around him, Joel had noticed Oscar as soon as he sat down. He watched Oscar through his periphery, noting the defeated sag of his shoulders and the nervous way he raked his hand through his hair. Joel, being no stranger to self hatred and internal conflict, was adept at recognising when someone was struggling with something personal, and he could see something was bothering Oscar. Admittedly, he was curious. Especially now he knew you were working together at the library.

Joel had spent many hours patrolling with Oscar over the last few years and they shared a mutual respect of one another, not a friendship as such but a kind of comradery that only the patrolmen of Jackson shared. While Joel didn't care for cultivating friendships, he was comfortable enough initiating conversation with people when he was interested enough. And right now his interest was piqued.

"Somethin' on your mind, Estrada?" Joel asked without turning to face Oscar.

His question startled Oscar out of his thoughts, forcing him to straighten his back and look over to Joel.

"Oh, hey Miller," Oscar offered Joel a small grin, then shifted off the stool and onto the next one to sit beside Joel.

"Just the usual shit," he mumbled before taking a a swig of his beer. He let out a noise of satisfaction after swallowing it. "Goddamn, that hits the spot."

Joel hummed in response and toyed with the neck of his bottle, his thumb smoothing over the condensation that had formed over the glass. A comfortable minute of silence passed as they both savoured the beer Tommy had spent countless hours crafting and perfecting.

Oscar was a good man. He was friendly, talkative, and well liked by everyone. He didn't indulge in crude jokes or talk about sex, which Joel was grateful for (he fucking hated listening to crass banter almost as much as he hated someone talking unnecessarily). Oscar was never disrespectful towards anyone and he was a responsible patrolman.

But he didn't exude overtly masculine energy. He wasn't argumentative or had a bad temper, like alot of the other guys. He wasn't bloodthirsty or quick to prove his capabilities. To Joel, these traits automatically made Oscar weaker than him. And a little bit of a pussy.

It was because of these attributes that Joel did not perceive Oscar to be much of a threat regarding you. He had believed you when you said there was nothing going on with Oscar. Joel knew you well enough to know you were telling the truth. You were never good at lying, anyway. And you were always so open for him, so willing to please - you were such a good girl.

Joel recognised that a large part of your attraction to him was his own strength, his protective virility complimenting your soft, feminine nature so well. He too found it very appealing. So ofcourse you wouldn't be attracted to Oscar. You needed someone who could take care of you properly, and Joel was that man.

But Joel had to be honest with himself; witnessing the fear in your eyes had aroused him with such an unexpected ferocity that it was all he could think about tonight. Your innocent doe eyes wide with panic as you pleaded and begged, fuck, it filled Joel with a primal desire to devour you completely, body and soul. He couldn't wait to extract that reaction from you again.

But he knew he had to be careful with you. Scare you or hurt you too much and too quickly and you might tell Tommy or Maria on him, get him kicked out of Jackson, make Ellie hate him forever.

No, Joel had to be a little bit tender, especially now. You'd learnt your lesson after he punished you, solidifying the fact that you only belonged to him. Joel could afford to be gentle right now and coax you back to feeling safe and satisfied with what you two had. Show you how kind and caring he could be if you stayed a good girl. Without the sappy relationship bullshit that your bitch girlfriends no doubt planted in your head.

"Look like somethin's eatin' ya," Joel said casually, finally turning his head to look directly at Oscar. "Bad dreams again?"

Oscar gave a small shrug of his shoulders and sighed. "Most nights. Some are worse than others."

Joel nodded knowingly. He was no stranger to being startled awake, gasping for air, disturbed by the horrors projected in his mind in nightmares of the past. They still plagued Joel often enough for him to want to get drunk or fuck away his feelings every night. He wondered if Oscar had any secret vices.

Joel cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to hide the awkwardness he was feeling.

"Ya got no family here," Joel stated matter of factly. "That's part of your problem. You need somethin' to live for, needa have some roots."

Oscar chewed his bottom lip, listening reverently to what Joel was saying. Joel was uncomfortable speaking so candidly but it was necessary. He needed to in order to gain some insight into Oscar's intentions.

"Me...I got my kid and my brother," Joel said with an offhanded shrug. He sounded gruff but earnest. "They keep me goin'."

Oscar was silent. Joel glanced back up at him.

"You been in Jackson a while now. You got yourself a woman?" Joel asked, trying to come across as casual rather than inquisitive.

Oscar looked down and gave a tight shake of his head, then took a long chug of his beer. Joel raised an eyebrow.

"Nothin'? No girlfriend?"

"Nah, man." Oscar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Joel looked over both of his shoulders before lowering his voice into a hushed hiss. "Not even just a once in a while fuck?"

Oscar barked a short laugh. "No, definitely not."

Joel's nostrils flared as he inhaled, a mixture of relief and pride surging inside his chest. He knew you were telling the truth. Now Oscar just confirmed it. There's no way you would go behind his back. Especially not with this pussy Estrada.

Joel hid the smug satisfaction threatening to spill across his face. Instead, he scratched the side of his face nonchalantly. "Fuck it, women ain't nothin' but trouble anyways."

Oscar exhaled a partly suppressed chuckle. Joel finished the last mouthful of his drink and set the bottle down on the countertop with a thud.

"Gotta good way to get rid of those bad dreams, ya know," Joel smirked at him.

"Yeah?" Oscar gave him a curious half smile in return. "What's your remedy, Miller?

"Let's get you hammered," Joel grinned wolfishly. "Won't be thinkin' too much about anythin' then."

Oscar chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, Miller, I don't think--"

"Hey Clyde!" Joel cut off Oscar to call out to the bartender down the other end of the bar. "Another couple of beers and some shots of whiskey this way."

Joel smacked his hand over Oscar's shoulder in a brotherly gesture of affection.

"Trust me, you'll be feelin' alot better after this."

"Okay okay, just a couple more," Oscar acquiesced genially. "Thanks, Miller."

"Anytime, buddy."

This is too fuckin' easy, Joel thought.

******

Kate had walked you back to your cottage after dinnertime and stayed for an hour curled up on your couch drinking a cup of herbal tea. When she left you tried to read through the book Oscar had given you and create notes for upcoming lessons for your class, but you were so tired that you fell asleep in bed by 10pm.

It was sometime after midnight when you sensed the dip of the mattress under your body and then the warm caresses underneath your tank top.

The scruff of his beard tickled your face as he peppered warm kisses over you cheeks. His rough hand roamed over your body with greedy hunger, only stopping to squeeze your breasts and the soft skin of your stomach. Your brows creased as you began to rouse from slumber. Even through the drowsy haze of sleepiness you could still identify the familiarity of Joel's touch and scent.

"Joel?" You murmured groggily, your voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah, babygirl, it's me," Joel whispered.

He gave you a sloppy wet kiss on your mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips. Your body was unmoving underneath his touch, still heavy with the sedative remnants of sleep. It took some time for your muddled brain to fully register the taste and smell of alcohol that enveloped your senses.

He has been drinking. Possibly drunk. And now he is in your bedroom, on-top of you.

The realisation made your body snap to attention with panic. Your eyes fluttered open and you brought your hands up to press against his chest and break away from his plush, hungry lips. Joel relented and pulled back, bracing himself on one hand above your head.

How the fuck did he get in?

You could feel the heat of his erection pressing against your thigh and you exhaled a small gasp when you realised his lower half was naked.

"What-you," you mumbled, "what're you doing?"

You shrunk back into your pillow and dared to stare up at his face to try gauge his mood. Joel's gaze met yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, the curls of his hair dishevelled as if he had been running his hands through them. There was no cruelty in his expression this time, no anger. It was such a huge contrast to his demeanour the last time he was in your bedroom and it made you feel even more disorientated.

And fuck, he looked so sexy.

"It's jus' me, baby," he whispered, his voice soft and slurred with lust. "Needed to see you."

His fingers dipped underneath the band of your sleep shorts and a lustful groan rumbled in his throat when he cupped your naked sex. You shifted your hips slightly and Joel moved his hand further down, his fingertips gliding across your lips. He found your entrance and slowly pushed one of his thick digits inside your pussy. You moaned softly at the intrusion and involuntarily parted your legs when his whole finger slid inside.

"Joel," you whispered breathlessly, your eyes still locked.

"Pussy missed me, ain't that right, sugar?" Joel purred.

He lowered his face and kissed you once again and this time you allowed him to, accepting his tongue to roll lazily into your mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit gently and began to move to in slow circles as his finger slid out of your pussy, then back in again. Joel continued fingering you and your body slowly began responding to his touch, your pussy becoming wet with arousal. He pushed his finger all the way inside you and curled it against your g spot. The intense pleasure made your eyes roll back and pull yourself away from his lips.

It felt so fucking good.

"Fuck," you panted, "J-Joel."

"So wet," Joel groaned. "See how your body wants me, babydoll?"

He was right. Your body was betraying you - your dignity, your honour. You shouldn't want this, not with Joel. Not after how he treated you these past few months, and definitely not after what he did to you with his belt.

Fuck fuck fuck, what if he is back to hurt you again?

You reached down and grabbed onto his thick wrist with your small hand.

"Joel, no," your voice cracked. "You hurt me. I don't want to do this."

"Ssssh," he cooed. "I ain't here to hurt you, darlin'. I wanna make you feel good. Lemme show you that I care about ya."

Joel nuzzled his nose against your cheek tenderly then licked at the corner of your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a tiny moan.

Why was he acting so different? Why was he being so tender now? Did he really want to show you that he cared?

The logical, rational part of your brain was being overruled by the naive softness of your heart and the yearning between your legs. Some small part of you knew that you should be wary and not trust Joel at all. But it was hopeless - you loved him. Still.

Your hand unwrapped from his wrist. A silent sign of permission. Joel removed his same hand from inside your shorts. Despite yourself, you whined at the loss of his touch at your core.

Joel sat back on his splayed knees inbetween your legs, the upper half of his body still covered by his flannel shirt. You bit your bottom lip and watched him, nervous to be so vulnerable underneath him yet excited, the arousal in your belly growing. He looked so broad and powerful.

While gazing down at you Joel began unbuttoning the buttons of his flannel with enticing dexterity. In only a few seconds he had stripped it from himself and discarded it on the floor. You drank in the sight of him naked, his bare torso dotted with scars, the muscles of his biceps flexing, how his thick cock bobbed up against his soft stomach. Saliva was pooling on-top of your tongue inside your mouth.

Joel took hold of the bottom of your shorts and tugged them down your legs. You hissed at the sting when it passed over your ass, but Joel didn't seem to notice. He slipped the shorts down your legs and threw them to the floor. You were now naked except for the thin tank top you fell asleep in.

"Pull your legs up," Joel rasped. "Wanna see that sweet pussy spread open for me. Come on, honey, show me."

He wrapped a hand around his cock and watched you obediently bend your knees and reach down to part your lips with your fingers, exposing your sensitive flesh and your hole to him. You lifted your head up off the pillow to see Joel groan and stroke his dick.

"So fuckin' pretty," he murmured. "Just waitin' for me to fuck her." His eyes flickered up to your face. "That what you want? You want me to fuck you, babydoll?"

You couldn't disguise the thrill of desire pulsing all over your body. You were mesmerised by every inch of the man infront of you, any hint of apprehension or fear having vanished now Joel was naked inbetween your legs.

"Yes, Joel. Please." You practically moaned.

Joel smirked, satisfied with your willingness to submit. "Keep that pussy spread for me, sugar."

Your fingers remained still as he leaned over you and spat out a warm wad of saliva onto your pussy. Joel watched intently as it slid down to your hole. You felt yourself fluttering at the sensation. Joel planted one hand on the mattress near your head to brace himself and hovered over you; his other hand notched himself at your entrance.

You held your breath in anticipation. Then Joel pushed himself into your tight wet heat.

The initial stretch from the head of his dick entering you was uncomfortable and overwhelming. But Joel was mindful tonight. He slowly sheathed himself completely inside and allowed a few moments for your body to adjust to the feeling of fullness. A long soft moan escaped your lips.

"Oh my god, Joel," you breathed.

"Feels so fuckin' good, babydoll," Joel groaned.

His eyes were downcast, transfixed, while he rocked his hips back to slide his cock out half way, then forward to move back inside you. He did so again and again, creating a slow and steady rhythm of fucking you.

Your hands travelled up to skim over his biceps, fingertips dancing over his muscles. Joel may have been considerably older than you but his stamina and might were impressive regardless of age. You were in awe of just how powerful his body was, how gorgeous his face was.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fat cock parted your insides so deliciously. It felt so natural to be underneath him again. You dug your nails into his shoulders and moaned softly with each thrust.

"That's it," Joel growled lowly, voice gravelly with passion. "There's my good girl."

He fucked you with a slow, hard momentum that made your stomach muscles contract and your inner thighs quiver. You could feel the stretch from his veiny thickness in each punch of his cock. Your body and mind were totally intoxicated by the carnal bliss Joel was enrapturing you with.

His actions were passionate but not at all rough. In fact he was being so gentle tonight, almost loving. Was this what making love is?

Joel was breathing heavily above you, his mouth slack, his eyebrows knitted in intense pleasure. Joel's hand snaked down and started rubbing your clit with two thick fingers without disrupting the pace of his hips snapping into yours. The stimulation added a whole new level of intensity. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Oh fuck yes, Joel," you groaned loudly without inhibition.

You no longer felt the sharp burn of the bruised welts on your ass as your body was being pushed into the mattress. You did not feel the tenderness on your red wrists, or the confused sadness of your heartbeat. You only felt Joel.

"Ya like that?" Joel panted. "Whose this sweet pussy belong to, baby? Whose your daddy?"

He stared down at you as he continued massaging your clit in steady circles. He angled his pelvis in a way that allowed his dick to tap into your g spot, that sweet part of your plush insides that he knew drove you crazy.

You dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders and tilted your head back, a guttural moan rising from your throat. Your head was swimming, unable to formulate a thought or a verbalise an answer except for his name.

Joel's movements stilled as he shifted to sit upright on his knees. You whined and opened your eyes. He was watching you, his eyebrows raised.

"P-please," you whispered weakly. "Dont stop."

"Ya didn't answer me," he muttered.

You were too distracted to perceive the underlying hint of danger and annoyance in his words. His cock was resting thick and heavy inside you. It was tortuous. You tried to grind yourself against him, desperate for friction to relieve the tension built deep in your core.

"Joooel," you whimpered. "I'm sorry, you just feel so good, so amazing, please, please keep going "

Joel wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him.

"I'm gonna ask you again," he drawled calmly. He rocked his hips back and forth once teasingly. "Who owns this fuckin' pussy?"

"You do, Joel," you moaned, arching your back.

"Whose your fuckin' daddy?" Joel snarled, flexing his hand on your throat, a telltale gesture that he was holding back and close to snapping.

"You," you mewled pathetically, running your hands over his chest with fervor. "it's you, Joel."

He suddenly thrust all the way into you until his hips were flush against yours, his pubic bone slamming into yours. You cried out in shock. You were totally full of his girth with his heavy balls resting against your ass. The stretch at the opening of your vagina was actually painful. You could feel yourself tearing slightly.

"Ow, fuck, fuck! Joel," you whimpered, pressing your palms into his chest reflexively. "No, it's t-too much, too deep."

"Babygirl, this is my pussy and I'll go as deep as I fuckin' like," Joel growled. "So you're gonna shut the fuck up and take it."

The hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your eyes wide, your hands now limp by your sides. Joel started moving once again and was soon fucking you in deep, fast thrusts that hit your g spot each time, the action punctuated by Joel's heavy panting and the sound of the bed frame knocking against the wall.

Your mind was starting to go fuzzy, your vision blurry. The fiery pressure in your belly was growing and when Joel swiped the rough pad of his thumb over your clit your muscles squeezed around his shaft.

"You're gonna come on my cock," Joel ordered through ragged breaths. "And you're gonna thank me for it. You hear me, little slut?"

He relinquished his hold on your throat and you choked as your body gasped in a rush of air. You moaned and your eyelids fluttered when he then gave your cheek a few light rapid slaps.

"Gonna thank me for splittin' you open," Joel murmured, the drawl of his accent low and rich, pouring over your ears like thick honey. "For givin' this needy pussy what she's been beggin' for."

All you could do was moan as Joel relentlessly pummeled his cock into you, his thumb still rubbing your clit. It didn't take much longer for your orgasm to hit. The feverish climax flooded over your entire body and left you whimpering breathlessly and without any energy to move. Joel fucked you through your orgasm and allowed you a minute to recover before he ripped away from your body. You cried out from the sudden withdrawal.

Joel crawled up the bed so that he was straddling your torso. He grabbed a handful of your hair and lifted your head up from the pillow so that the fat head of his cock was directly infront of you, close to touching your lips.

"Thank me," he growled.

Joel began to pump his cock with his other hand. His dark hooded eyes narrowed on you. You licked your lips and stared back up at Joel. You felt the familiar desperate need to please him, to hear his praise reign over you.

"Thank you Joel," you purred. "Thank you for letting me come."

Joel groaned. His grip on your hair tightened. "Keep goin'."

"Thank you for splitting me open."

He fisted his cock faster, his hips rocking slightly as he chased his pleasure. You batted your eyelashes and moaned softly.

"Thank you for fucking my needy pussy."

Joel growled through heaving breaths as he came, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your face. You shut your eyes while his hand tangled in your hair held you still while. He continued to pump his cock and empty his load all over you.

"That's right," he panted, "take it. Good fucking girl."

When Joel had finished he let go of your hair and shifted to stand up from the bed. You blindly lifted the bottom of your tank top and gingerly wiped his cum from around your eyes, then the rest of your face. When you were able to open your eyes again you saw Joel already getting dressed.

Your heart sank. Was he really just going to leave straight away?

Joel looked at you as he hitched his jeans up.

"Raiders been spotted near Jackson. We got to get a patrol group out there tonight."

You felt your heart crack. He just fucked you and now he is going away?

You couldn't help the tears pooling in your eyes. "You're going?" You asked in a small voice.

Joel looked away from you as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. To your relief he wasn't wearing a belt.

"I gotta," he replied gruffly. "Don't know how long I'll be."

"Joel," you whispered.

You bowed your head and cried. You knew how dangerous this kind of mission was and despite the hurt you had endured at his hands, the possibility of him being injured or dying was devastating. You felt the warmth of his large hand stroke your head gently.

"Comin' back for you, sugar. Be good for me while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"Yes Joel," you croaked.

Joel pressed your face into his naked belly, your cheeks still sticky from his cum. You wrapped your arms around his middle and sobbed. He allowed you to cry, smoothing your hair in soothing strokes until you calmed down.

******

Joel had stayed just long enough for you to fall asleep cuddled into the crook of his arm. Your features were slightly strained as you slept, as if your worry and sadness of real life had seeped into your dreams. Your cheeks were still stained with a mixture of dried tears and his cum. Joel checked his watch. It wasn't long now. He managed to extract himself from the bed without waking you and finished getting dressed. He watched you silently for a few moments before leaving to find Ellie.

Joel knew your body craved him just as much as your heart did. You were so easy to placate. Now he could go with Tommy and hunt down those piece of shit raiders without needing to worry about you getting stupid ideas in your head.

However, neither of you could have foreseen the significance of events that were to develop during Joel's absence, nor the catastrophic repercussions of his return.

What did you all think of this chapter? How do we feel about Joel? How about our main character?

Things are going to ramp up in the next installment.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose

#joel miller #joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #joel miller dark fic #oscar isaac #dark! joel miller

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