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enwrites · 11 months

Text

Cloud Nine (p.sh)

parings: brother’s bff!sunghoon x afab!reader

warning: 18+ MDNI !! not proofread (sorry for mistakes)

genre/cw: smut, e2l, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sunghoon is a creep kinda, brother’s best friend trope, spit play, oral (male receiving), pillow riding, degradation, size kink, strength play, choking, breeding, spanking, sunghoon is pretty mean to reader, one year age gap, jay is your brother (lmk if anything was missed!)

synopsis: You and Sunghoon have never gotten along. Ever. Constant bickering and fights to the point your brother is fed up as well. What no one knew was how badly you wanted Sunghoon spewing those same words to your face in your bed. What happens when he sees something he shouldn’t have seen?

wc: 3.6k words

a/n: hi hi !! this is my first ever fic on here !! pls let me know how this was and im happy to receive any feedback <3 a hee fic is currently in the works, i just had sunghoon brain rot so i needed to let this one out LOL (update: part two coming soon ;))

[ masterlist ] [ part 2 ]

From as long as you remember, you have always hated your brother’s best friend— Park Sunghoon. Nothing about him amused you and you especially hated the way he always seems to be at your house every weekend. You couldn’t escape him. From his annoying laugh to his stupid ego, you hated everything.

But you couldn’t help but be so attracted to him. Yes, he was annoying but man was he just everything in a package. Tall and gorgeous… not to mention his insanely fit body. You couldn’t help but wonder how big he’d be, hovering over your small frame. But everything disappears in an instant the moment you hear loud knocks on your door.

“Y/n can you get that! It’s Sunghoon!” your brother Jay yells at you from the kitchen. The knocks persist as you stay put, pretending to ignore your older brother as it was his friend anyways. Why should you open the door for a monster? “Y/n please, I’ll make you something to eat too,” your brother begs you. With a loud groan you mutter a “fine” and drag yourself off the couch, heading to the door to open it. Before he could loudly bang on the door once more, you pull the door open. He looks at you with a disgusted face.

“Ugh, did not wanna see your face at the door,” he spits, walking past you making sure to bump your shoulder with his. You slam the door shut giving an annoyed smile back at him.

“If you had forgotten, this has been my house forever, you’re lucky I even open the door for heathens like you,” you spit back, your voice laced with venom. He squints his eyes at you, sticking his tongue out as he makes his way towards the kitchen. “Jay, can you tell your annoying little sister to shut the hell up for once oh my god,” Sunghoon complained to Jay as he walked into the Kitchen.

“How about you both shut the hell up,” Jay annoyedly said rolling his eyes as he put the pizza he’s been working on in the oven. He was never fond of the both of you constantly barking at one another. He thought maybe he was insane for thinking he felt some sort of tension between the two of you. He loved you both but seriously wished he could sew both of your mouths together whenever he felt like it.

“HE STARTED IT!” You yelled in protest. You crossed your arms as you stood at the kitchen doorway, Sunghoon sticking his tongue out at you once again before turning to Jay.

“I don’t care who started it, can you both just give me a single day of peace!” Jay exclaims letting out a sigh. A migraine was surely going to form sooner or later for him. Before you both can protest, he ushers the both of you out so that he can finish making the pizzas with some sanity left. You both grumpily make your way to the couch and sit on opposite ends. To your surprise, at least your favorite show was playing when you got back to your seat on the couch.

“This show is so stupid, I’m changing it,” Sunghoon says as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. Before he could get it, you immediately jumped up and grabbed the remote first.

“NO. This is my favorite show and my house, I’m not letting you change anything,” you loudly said to him. But he wasn’t going to let you go easily.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if this is your favorite show or not, I wanna watch something else,” He spits back. With that, he lunges at you towards the remote. You hurriedly crawl back to where you were, making sure he couldn’t take the remote away from you.

“Sunghoon stop it,” You struggled to let out as he was enclosing you on the couch. Your breath starts to hitch the closer he gets to you. You could feel him breathing on you. He pins you beneath him, his arms longer than yours as he reaches for the remote you try to hold behind your head. Sunghoon didn’t realize how compromising of a position you both were in until he finally reached for the remote in your hands and looked down at you.

There you were, under him, staring back at him with your doe eyes, crop top hiked up just a bit to where your bra was showing. He didn’t realize how short your shorts really were until now. Eying you up and down, he licks his lips. His thoughts were interrupted with you trying to get him off of you. You have come to your senses and realized how turned on he had just made you, immediately trying to push him off. He just pins your arms down more, inching closer to your ear.

“Stupid girls like you don’t deserve to do things they wanna do,” he whispers. His hot breath sends tingles down your body and you swear you get a little wetter. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t budge. “Are you going to apologize to me for being so annoying now?” he asks. He looks at you, finding it amusing the way you’re struggling under him right now. He can’t help but think how you’d look naked under him. Sunghoon has always had a thing for you.

“Apologize for what? For your mother raising a dickface, that's you?” you bite back, rolling your eyes at him. Before he could say anything, Jay yells from

in the kitchen the pizzas are done. Sunghoon loosens his grip which gives you the perfect opportunity to push him down and onto the floor, scurrying your way towards your brother. Sunghoon gets up shaking his head… this wasn’t over for him.

Hours passed since your little altercation with Sunghoon earlier in the living room. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Your mind was racing and it didn’t help that he wore his stupid gray sweatpants once again. Thinking about the way he pinned you down and whispered in your ear was enough to get you excited again. With that, you take your shorts and crop top off, leaving you in just your lace undergarments underneath. You just so happened to put on a white matching set— Sunghoon’s favorite color.

To the thought of Sunghoon, you lean back down onto your bed and start to rub small circles on your panty covered clit. It’s embarrassing how wet you already were just thinking about him. You rub just a bit more, sliding your fingers up and down your pussy, feeling the wetness that pooled down there. But this wasn’t enough. You were so desperate and in need of something to satisfy you. You sit up, grabbing the second pillow beside you, putting it beneath you.

Folding it just a bit, you straddle it. Slowly grinding down onto the pillow under you, imagining yourself riding Sunghoon. You hump the pillow in desperation, trying to get off. You grind and grind, wishing Sunghoon’s cock filled you up instead.

Unbeknownst to you, Jay had fallen asleep to the movie he and Sunghoon were watching. Realizing that his friend was asleep, he decided to make his way to find you, just to mess with you again. He always found it so cute how annoyed you’d get to his teasing. But today was different, he wanted more. If it weren’t for Jay, he swears he would’ve taken you on the couch right there and then. Making his way down the long hall towards your room, he notices a faint light coming from the small crack of your door. He carefully steps closer and to his surprise, the sight before him was nothing he ever expected to see in a million years.

There you were, on your bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy lace lingerie set, grinding down on a pillow so desperately. He watches you, making sure he stays as quiet as possible to not get caught. There you were, humping a pillow, your hips grinding over and over, letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard. Did you know your door was a bit cracked? Who cares, he was enjoying the view.

Sunghoon palms himself as he watches you, not wanting to even blink in fear of missing the show. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. Before the realization of him being a creep watching you pleasure yourself through the crack of your door, that’s when he hears it. You had moaned his name. His dick twitched in his pants, painfully hard and needing to be released.

“S-Sunghoon, you feel so good,” you moaned, increasing your speed on the pillow. He swore he was gonna explode right then and there. He had to have you. But he knew he had to punish you as well. He pushes the door open even more and to his surprise you hadn’t noticed yet. Hell, you haven’t even noticed the fact that he closed the door before him as well.

Loss in your trance, Sunghoon watched you just for a bit before making his move. He clears his throat to get your attention. Startled, you urgently grabbed your blanket to cover yourself, shocked to see Sunghoon in your room. There he looked at you with a smug smile painted on his face.

You swore you saw evil behind those eyes.

“Oh don’t stop now, I was enjoying my show,” he pouts, walking closer to you, standing in front of your bed. “Go on, I’m here now, isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked in a cheeky tone. Your face was red and embarrassment washed over you. You wanted to run away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, go on, continue what you were doing,” he demanded, pulling your blanket off of you. You were at a loss for words. But something in you gave into him. You start to straddle the pillow again, grinding your pussy against it. Embarrassed, you tilt your head down, trying to avoid any eye contact. You can’t help but get so turned on as he watches you. You hump your pillow desperately letting out whines and moans, trying your best to not be too loud.

“Hoonie~,” You moaned loudly, humping your pillow as you grew wetter. You felt so dirty. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. You felt like you were on cloud nine and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Sunghoon smirks, he takes in the scene in front of him, he couldn’t take it anymore and slips his pants down, freeing his hard on. He starts to slowly stroke, watching you as you pleasure yourself. His tip was red and angry, leaking a bit of precum already. He wanted to see more of you.

“Take your bra off,” he demands. You look up at him, shocked to see him pleasuring himself. The sight of his cock making your mouth water. He was huge. No way you can fit that in you, you don’t even think it’ll fit in your mouth. Nevertheless, you obliged and took your bra off, your boobs slowly falling out of the cups. Embarrassed, you try to cover yourself again. He takes his pants and boxers off right away, signaling for you to get closer to him. He needed to feel your mouth on him.

“As much as I love to see you getting yourself off, I need your pretty little mouth on my cock right now,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside you. He pushes you off the bed and onto your knees right in front of him. Watching you carefully, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face against his cock.

“Open wide,” he instructs, hand still in your hair. You reach your hand up to his shaft, opening your mouth to finally get a taste of him. His tip was already leaking. You put his tip in your mouth. He lets out low groans, guiding you as he grips onto your hair even more. As you expected, he definitely could not fit into your mouth. So using your hand that was on his shaft, you start to stroke him as you suck him off. Getting lost in the pleaser, he needed to be down your throat and that he was gonna do.

“Hands behind your back now,” he firmly said, the tone of his voice catching you off guard but you obliged, your panties getting stickier as the seconds passed. You put your hands behind your back and he starts to buck his hips, his tip reaching further and further down your throat. The sound of him groaning fills the room immediately. You just prayed to the lord your brother was sound asleep.

With his dick down your throat, you can’t help but feel so turned on. This was dirty, you’ve never deepthroat a dick in your life. Well dicks as big as Sunghoon’s. He watches you, making sure to keep eye contact.

“I’ve always known you were a little whore, but letting me fuck your little mouth while your brother’s asleep down the hall?” he grunts out, slamming his cock in and out of your mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in the pleasure. He felt as if he was in a dream. Your eyes teary as all you can let out are moans against his dick. Being too turned on, you snaked your hand from behind your back and into your panties. You attempt to rub your clit as he fucks into your mouth. Now it was your turn to close your eyes from the intense pleasure. Your moans intensify, catching Sunghoon’s attention.

There he saw you, touching yourself. As much as he enjoyed watching you get off, never did he allow you to pleasure yourself as you were pleasuring him. He forcefully tugs you by your hair and off his cock, shaking his head at you as if he was disappointed. You take this time to catch your breath, puzzled at why he suddenly stopped. He then pulls you up by your hair, making sure you were eye level with him. He takes his other hand and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to make sure you were looking right into his eyes. Chills ran through your body.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” he quietly asks, you can feel his breath on your face. You shake your head, looking pitiful in his eyes. “Did I say you can touch yourself?” he repeats, that venomous tone coming back to his voice. You were nervous.

“N-No…,” you shakily said. Your breathing intensifies. Sunghoon lets out an almost evil laugh. “I guess this little slut needs a punishment.”

With that, he tosses you onto the bed. With your backside up, he drags your body to the edge. Standing right behind you, your legs hanging off, he starts to caress your cheeks. Taking in the beauty of your backside, it took everything in him to not take you right there and then.

“Take your panties off,” he demands. You angle your butt up just a bit and reach behind you, slowly pulling them down, making sure he sees everything. He was watching you as if you were his prey and he was about to get ready to feast on a meal. The glistening sheen of your arousal stares back at him as you fully remove your panties. He couldn’t wait to have you. He makes his way closer to you, one hand on your ass and the other sliding up and down your folds. You were soaking, practically dripping down your legs.

“Please… touch me Hoonie…,” you softly spoke, the lack of physical action killing you on the inside. Still painfully hard and turned on, he swore he was going to explode right there, hearing your soft voice begging for him to touch you. Before you could speak up again, he spanks you. Caught off guard, you let out a yelp, the action turning you on even more. And then again, a spank lands onto your cheeks. His other hand’s still feeling your wetness, teasing you in an agonizing way. “I wanna hear you beg.”

You shiver a bit as his voice drops even lower than before. You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you in the first place. Feeling a sense of pride wash over, you were getting a bit fed up and were about to protest until yet another slap landed onto your cheek. This time harder than the previous two.

“I said– beg,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You gulp, feeling trapped beneath him.

“Hoonie please… need you so bad,” every sense of pride and dignity was thrown out the window as you let those words out of your mouth. “Sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?” he snickers back, egging you on. With one hand now on your waist and the other rubbing his tip up and down your slick folds, he needed to hear you say it one more time. Too horny to even fight back, you crumbled beneath him, just wanting his cock in you as soon as possible.

“Sunghoon please fuck me already, I need your cock in me right now!” you loudly said, he leans back down and into your ear he whispers a “good girl.” He pushes his tip into you, already feeling like your pussy was sucking him in. You both let out a moan. He felt so big in you and it was just the tip.

“S-So… big …,” you muttered. He chuckles. “It’s just the tip baby, can’t handle my cock already?” he presses. You shake your head letting out a tiny squeal and he enters you even more. Fully into you, you felt as if you were being stretched out to the max, no way could you handle this. Yet your pussy was craving more.

Sunghoon couldn't handle it, without giving you any proper time to adjust, he starts stroking into you. Grabbing onto your waist with both of his hands, he fucks you hard on the edge of the bed. Seeing your small frame beneath him and the way your body was just engulfed by his hands, he gets even more turned on.

“So fucking tight Y/n, so fucking wet and all for me– is that right doll?” he grunts out as he slams his cock into you, trying his hardest not to cum. But your cute little moans were making it so hard for him, he felt so lost in the pleasure.

“Y-Yes all y-yours Hoonie~,” you moan loudly, not a single worry in your body. Just you and Sunghoon. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see your face. In a swift second, Sunghoon flips you over, still standing at the edge of the bed, he puts your legs over his shoulders as he pumps deeper into you. Fucking you into your bed, he leans down, grabbing your face he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your lips mesh together like they’ve been dying for this moment all their lives. He reaches down to your neck, giving it a small squeeze, startled, you open your mouth which gives him access to stick his tongue. Your tongues dance with one other, Sunghoon starting to feel drunk off of you. After what felt like forever, he pulls back, hand on your jaw, holding your mouth open. He spits in it. You let out a loud whiny moan, feeling more aroused than ever before in your life. You instantly swallow, making him lose his mind.

“You’re such a filthy little slut, swallowing my spit, letting me fuck you like this, is this what you wanted– huh?” He speaks to you, all you could get out were little yelps of “yes.” With your arms snaked around his neck, he pushes your legs off from his shoulders, shocking you he lifts you up off the bed and starts to pound into you harder and harder. You knew Sunghoon was fit but you didn’t know he was that fit. Taking you by surprise with this new angle, he holds you up as he fucks you hard, his pace increasing. You start to feel a knot in your stomach form, getting so close to your climax. Your pussy clenching around him, so tight and pulsating, he knew he was getting close as well. Room filled entirely of moans, skin slapping, and the smell of sex, you needed him to fill you up.

Before you knew it, with one hard pump, you screamed, cumming all over his cock. Overstimulated, he sets you back down onto the bed, helping you ride out your orgasm as he was soon to reach his. The feeling of your wetness and your cum all mixed into one was enough for him to unload right into you. With a few more strokes, he releases, holding onto your body as he rides out his own climax, pumping his seed into you. You felt so full and exhausted. He carefully pulls out, watching as his cum spills out from your pussy. It was a sight he never wanted to forget. He quickly grabs his phone to capture the moment, fingering his load that was spilling out of you back into your hole. You couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit embarrassed. Sunghoon lays beside you, as he trails kisses along your neck.

“Fuck– you’re all mine,” he said against your neck. Before any realization could hit the both of you as to what you guys just did with one another, the distinct sound of buzzing came from both of your phones. Your faces went pale.

*Jay added Y/n and Sunghoon to a group.*

Jay: You guys are fucking disgusting.

1K notes · View notes

revrover · 2 years

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The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island.

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return.

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers.

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine.

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs.

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down.

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock.

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean.

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you.

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house.

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours.

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets.

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing.

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage.

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger.

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth.

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict.

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock.

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night.

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home.

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted.

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess.

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it.

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon.

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean.

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there.

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle.

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back.

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time."

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing.

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten."

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful.

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand.

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss.

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #mcu namor #namor x y/n #k'uk'ulkan #namor fluff #namor imagine #mcu imagine #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namora #wakanda forever #namor x gen!reader #namor x fem!reader

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surielstea · 3 months

Text

Caretaker

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭

2.2k words

My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.

I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.

My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.

Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.

It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.

There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.

"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.

"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.

"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.

"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.

"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.

"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.

"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.

"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.

I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.

Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.

"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.

"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.

"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.

"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.

"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.

"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.

"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?

He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.

"Mhm." I nod tiredly.

"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.

"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.

"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.

—

About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.

I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.

The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.

"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.

"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.

"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.

"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.

"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.

"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.

"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.

His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.

"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.

"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?

It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.

So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.

"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,

"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.

"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.

"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.

"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.

Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.

#azriel #sarah j maas #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #x reader #acomaf #fanfic #comfort fic #sickfic #im so lonely #i need him #suriels tea

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

pretending to be dead in front of hxh yans. because why the hell not?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and implied violence.

Word Count: 900. (this was only supposed to be 400 😭)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

Chrollo will know right away. There is no doubt about that. Even if he was in another room and just happened to walk in through the doorway as you flopped on the floor like a fish.

He will probably hit you up with a "Darling, get up or we won't go to the museum tonight" or something like that. He likes using this carrot and stick technique quite a lot, but with his own spin on it using his manipulation tactics. He will lure you in with a reward for behaving yourself or take something away when you are bad.

If you continue this charade despite his threats, he will attempt to entertain you for a bit. Maybe he pokes you with the end of an umbrella or something, or mockingly weeps your supposed death. Eventually this will annoy you so much you will surrender.

His response is directly proportional to why you did this. Did you do it for attention? He will gladly give it to you, with reading to you and handfeeding you your favorite food, still warm from its takeout box, or maybe he even attempted to make it himself (though, if the dish doesn't come out as planned, as his perfectionism is a huge part of him, he will throw it out before you even find out he cooked something in the first place).

Did you do it so he would actually think you are dead so you could sneak off to freedom? Well, expect him to tease you about it from this point forward, but nothing serious happens. Unless you attempt to attack him and actually prevail, usually his punishments are bare to none.

Nobunaga

Nobunaga is many things. Being in touch with reality is definitely not one of them. He already sees you as a fragile little baby, so trying to play dead in front of him will cause him to have a panic attack of sorts.

He believes your entire act, as bad as you were doing it. He cries and caresses you in his arms. His crusty, dry lips, unholy body odor, and his utterly disgusting breath will be the only reasons you will ever reveal your cover.

He reacts to you being alive as horribly as you expect. He will start yelling at you, scolding you like a toddler who snuck into the cookie jar and not a captive trying to get back to society once more. If he was already in a somewhat bad mood, like you rejected his advances for the umpteenth time, and he got annoyed at you playing "hard to get" again, expect to even be sent to bed without dinner or dessert. Horrifying, right?

But, then again, dinner is always raw or burnt. You are sometimes convinced Nobunaga is trying to poison you to further immobile you, so you won't attempt to escape further. Maybe this whole playing dead thing was successful, in its own way? You would rather eat pebbles than the halfway cooked rice Nobunaga puts in your pink plastic plate.

Feitan

Feitan just stares at you, not blinking. He already knows what you are trying to do. He already has a staring problem, observing everything you do, from drawing to looking outside the small, barred window in your room, so his reaction, in all honesty, does not surprise you one bit.

He will just go about his day. Feitan is an expert on the human body, being the Troupe's lead torturer and all, so he knows the difference from when you are faking being sick (or in this case dead) from when you are actually sick (a possibility from both the escape attempts and the fact that Feitan's little cabin in the middle of the woods has no heat or air conditioner. He says he does not need it, so he does not recognize it as a problem).

As always, he says nothing. He only sees this as a little bit of a tantrum you're having, and lets you have your way for once. When you eventually give up or when he has had enough of watching you, he'll leave the room to do something else.

But nothing bad happens to you, shockingly. But there is major emphasis on to you. If you have refused to admit defeat, he'll torture yet another poor unfortunate soul in his basement, their screams much louder than usual, and you will break at one point or another, either asking Feitan to stop or going to your room to put your pillow (which can also be a weapon with how hard it is) over your ears.

Machi

Machi, similar to two of the three assfarts, knows exactly what you are doing. But, like Nobunaga, she still worries, although she does not show it, and she also scolds you.

But, unlike the rest of them, she tries to listen to you after she shakes you into revealing yourself. She wants to know why you did that. If you say to try to escape from her, her heart will be broken once again.

Machi may not be the most emotionally understanding, but she does in fact try, although what she does after this incident is largely the opposite of what you wanted to happen. Even though her intentions are good, in her opinion. She will become more present in your life, bringing home more gifts for you and trying to hug you whenever you ask, although she will never initiate it herself.

She hopes you won't do that again. She'll tell you as such. She was not trying to manipulate you with the increase in gifts and consensual touches, but you will feel so bad you won't attempt such a thing from that point forward.

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cdbabymp3 · 3 months

Text

𐙚only me ― hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah won't spend time alone with you

notes/warnings: slight angst to fluff, apologetic bf hamzah save me pls 🙏 (unedited sry!)

"phone? keys? wallet? house key?" you run down the list of items your boyfriend always seems to forget before going out.

hamzah pats both pockets for the listed items, giving a proud thumbs up that he has everything he needs.

"we gotta get going, though." he mentions, pulling his car key out of his pocket and readjusting the hat atop his head

you pause, mid-smile, "wha-why? you said 6:30, hamzah!" trying not to panic, you rush into your shared room, sorting through your closet for the dress you planned on wearing.

hamzah follows you, voice trailing behind, "it was 6:30, yes, but martin-"

you felt your stomach pang.

"martin's coming?" you ask, attempting to sound genuine in your questioning, but who were you kidding? this was not the first time martin had tagged along to one of your dates. praying hamzah couldn't see the slight disappointment in your face, you distracted yourself with manically rummaging for the right shoes to go with your dress. he stood against the doorway, letting out a brief sigh.

maybe you weren't so good at hiding that disappointment because hamzah slowly walked over to you, gently grabbing your hands and stopping your frenzied state.

"what's the matter, hm? you don't want martin to come?"

"not really..." barely above a whisper, your eyes finally meet his

"why not?"

god, for someone so smart, he could be so oblivious sometimes.

you sat down on the bed, letting your dress pile on your lap, playing with the fabric.

"martin always comes with us. i can't remember that last time we went to dinner and he wasn't there. when we first started dating, it was fine and i don't want you to think i don't like him- because i do- i just...it just feels like you don't want to be around me." your voice quivers, a slight tinge of insecurity catches in your throat, "only me."

hamzah frowns, sitting on the bed next to you. "y/n, that's not true, i promise." he takes the dress out of your hands and sets it aside, hands returning to hold your smaller ones. his thumbs caress your knuckles the way he always does when he's think carefully about what to say next.

you're not sure if it's the physical touch or finally confessing how you feel, but a warm tear rolls down your cheek suddenly. he clicks his tongue at this, softly wiping the tear before it can slide off your face.

"then why?" you start wipe another tear that falls

he catches the stray tear before you do, "why what?"

"why do you always invite martin?"

"oh, well, the truth?" he laughs nervously, "i get so fucking nervous around you, y/n."

you sit up in shock, "what?"

"yeah, i'm serious. it's bad. so bad that i rely on martin as my, like-"

"wingman." you finish for him, admittedly relieved at his answer

hamzah laughs, nodding, a faint blush stains his cheeks. "yep." you lean over and kiss him, feeling his body tense with anticipation, he really was nervous...he allows himself a second more of the kiss before leaving your lips, "but i need to get over it. you're right, martin needs to hit the road." he gets up and quickly sends a text to martin, shoving his phone back in his pocket, and helping you up. "i'm sorry i made you feel like that, baby. never again, just you and me from now on, yeah?"

you melt, giving him a tight hug. "do i still have time to get all dressed up?" you mumble against his chest, eyes looking over at your dress still laid out on the bed.

he kisses your forehead, "take as long as you need."

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @junebugin-july , @itgirlvirgo , @sie17136

#jules speaks !! 🐻ིྀ #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #slushy noobz #cdbabymp3

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lilrainbowcloud · 4 months

Text

LAND AMONG THE STARS

Chapter 01 [masterlist]

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2.6k

"Bring him to the infirmary, we'll let him rest there until he awakes." Gesturing to the very unconscious new demigod, Chiron nodded his head to you as a sign of giving you the responsibility to monitor him.

As the head of the Apollo's cabin, the majority of the injuries that required healing were given to you due to the gift your father had blessed you with. And as always, you never complained. Accepting those in need into your cabin was something that you welcomed as to show your gratefulness towards the ability you held in your hands.

As Percy, the name you heard Chiron greeted him with, laid on the bed freshly cleaned from the dirt and grimes from the night before, you couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards the boy.

Words carried through the air told you that his mother was sacrificed to protect him from the minotaur that was chasing them. Unconsciously, your eyes drifted towards the twisted horn on the table. Grover had brought it back with him as a 'trophy' of sorts.

Percy was brave. So was his mother, who was just a mere mortal.

Letting out a soft exhale through your nose, you turned back to the boy. Brows furrowed, the corner of his lips turned down. He must be having a nightmare of sorts. You hoped it wasn't to relieve what had happened last night.

Gently, you ran the pads of your fingers over his forehead, a soft glow illuminated under your palm. A smile formed on your face as you watched his face relaxing. At least you could keep the nightmares away for a little while. You were aware of how dreams may be a prophecy themselves and cannot be pushed away.

A knock on the door made you stand back up, turning as you did to face your visitor.

Of course, it was Annabeth.

The persistent Athena's child stood in the doorway of the room with a sheepish smile on her face. Which you reflected with an amused one of your own, already knowing her intentions of coming. Still, you had the means to ask her.

"Yes, Annabeth?"

"Sorry to bother you, but I know that you have other counselor duties out there..." Hopeful wide eyes started at you as she voiced out her wishes. You knew this already. Happens every time a new demigod enters. "I can help you look after him!"

A giggle escaped your mouth as your smile grew wider by her antics to you to let her observe the newcomer.

"Aren't you also a counselor?"

Stunned, Annabeth's mouth hung open as she couldn't form a quick response. You might as well save herself.

"Alright, alright. You can help me look after him."

Her body stood straighter, jolting upward with excitement? You couldn't tell much of her behavior, but one thing you knew of her, she always gets a way to obtain whatever she wants.

"But~ you have to report to me if anything happens, deal?"

"Deal!" With a firm handshake, though it was not needed to do so but she had held out her hand first, you left her with monitoring duty as you made your way to the said 'counselor duties'.

🏹 Your pov

A few days passed since he first arrived. And the day he woke up you left Grover with him to go outside of camp for more supplies of bandaids, ibuprofen, and other. Sure you had the ability to heal minor injuries in minutes, but for other bigger cases, they would need help from mortal creations to not drain the energy out of you. Added to the fact that you loved to experiment with new medical knowledge that you had read from the books you borrowed from the Athena's cabin.

After your quick run, you went back to camp and into the infirmary to check up on Percy.

Only to be greeted by an empty unmade bed. The horn was still there on the table.

Another patient waking up fine was a satisfaction in your book.

With a little smile on your face, you went to unload your supplies in the storage cabinet and back to work on your checklist of To-Dos for the day.

🔱 Percy's pov

"Is it time to give up? I don't think I'm good at any of this," Feeling dejected and disappointed in himself, Percy couldn't help but feel bad for Luke. He felt like he's wasting his time trying to help him.

"It's useless," he let out under his breath, eyes trailing the dirt under his shoes.

"Hey come one don't give up yet," Putting a firm hand on Percy's shoulder, Luke gave him the same smile he showed him throughout the day. He couldn't understand how he's so persistent and helpful.

A contrast to the previous people that had dealt with him in his life, always giving up and thrown around. But this time, he felt hopeful to have made a genuine connection with someone. Even if he felt guilty. But he swore that he was really trying.

"I have one more thing you can try," Patting him on the back twice, Luke got up from the pavilion's stairs where they were sitting and stood up. Offering a hand for Percy to take. "Come on."

Percy knew the trail here. Next to the Big House, as they called it. The infirmary where he started his day at. What was he going to do here? All his life he had been getting injured rather than being the one to heal injuries.

He gave a look of incredulity at Luke. However, Percy noticed his demeanor change. The way he's holding back a smile that threatens to spread across his face as if not to show excitement, running a hand through his hair. And the way his back straightened before he lifted his knuckles to knock on the door. He was preparing to present himself to someone.

Crossing through the threshold, the place was quiet and calm.

"Yes?" A voice came from another part of the building. From the... kitchen? Which seemed like to Percy as they both filed into the room. The smell of antibiotics was much stronger here. The smell of hospitals and clinics.

"Hey, [Y/N]," Luke greeted the girl who was standing over the counter top in the middle of the room with various pill bottles and a ceramic mortar and pestle in the centre of it.

They both stopped short away from her. Guessing it was to not contaminate her pristine workspace with their dirty air from a whole day of camp tour. But Percy felt like they had already done that the moment they took their first step into the cabin. He almost said sorry out loud.

"Luke! And oh Percy! I'm so glad you woke up," Taking the white latex gloves off of her hands, she gave them a bright smile, one comparable to the sun as the room seemed to brighten up a bit. At least that's what Percy felt. He glanced over at Luke for confirmation but found that he was staring at the girl. The tone of her voice was clear with excitement.

It didn't take a genius to tell that she was a daughter of Apollo. I mean, she's already working in the infirmary. Wasn't that obvious enough?

But now, Percy noticed, her presence was a calming one. He instantly felt gravitated towards her. With what the sun being the centre of the solar system while the planets move around her. He liked her already. Another possible genuine friend maybe?

"I came back this morning to check up on you but you weren't here so I thought you had gone around camp on your own," Rounding the corner of the counter, she stood in front of them with her hands inside of the front pockets of her lab coat before leaning on the counter. The same smile still on her face. She really reminded Percy of a real mortal doctor.

Suddenly feeling shy under her gaze, Percy rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, sorry, I just needed to move right away you know," his eyes kept glancing from the girl to the ground, "from being in bed for days."

Gaze softening, her smile was pulled into a line, "It's okay, all that matters was your well being," Her voice quieted a bit, "I'm sorry for what happened."

The air suddenly felt heavy. But before the grey stormy cloud could form in his mind, she reached out her hand, "My name is [Y/N] by the way. It's nice to finally meet you formally," Percy replied to her saying it was likewise as well.

"Thanks for taking care of me," he added.

"Anytime," she replied.

Luke continued with the subject of why they were here in the first place with a clear of his throat.

"I'm showing Percy around camp today and trying to find something he's good at," Gesturing to him.

🏹 Your pov

"Oh that's nice! How did it go? Do you like it here?" Clapping her hand once, you turned your attention from Luke to Percy.

"I haven't found anything I'm good at yet, but Luke said I could try here," He doesn't sound very confident in himself which amused you. It must have been so tiring for him to go through everything on his first day. You guessed the thirst for achieving glory was strong with this one.

"It's fine, you have plenty of time to figure that out. A lot of us have been through this too, know that."

Not missing a beat, you turned on your heels to the closet at the corner of the room, "Here, wash your hands and sanitize them first," Opening the closet, you search for two lab coats that fit both of them as you heard them do as you ordered.

As you helped to put Percy's coat on, he asked you, "So... What do you do here?" Like it was not clear as day enough, but hey, conversations must start somewhere right?

"She's the head counselor of Apollo's cabin. And she's kind of like our doctor here. Heals people and stuff with her magic," Luke said before you could answer him yourself. Raising your eyebrows at him, you crossed your arms over your torso, a habit you unconsciously did.

"Healer? Magic?," Percy looked between you two with wonder, it intrigued him for sure,"Like a Cleric?" The term was not foreign to you as it was thrown at you a couple of times by the campers that played Dungeons and Dragons.

"Yeah, like that. I heal people with my glowing hands," Holding up your hand and wiggling your fingers, you made the air around them shimmer with a part of your partly divine energy.

Looking up behind Percy, you saw Luke smiling at you. At this moment, he looked like a brotherly figure to Percy. That made your heart full to see him take in these new demigods and made them feel welcomed.

As much as he detested his father, he is a son of Hermes, who welcomed all travelers.

"That's so cool!" His blue eyes widen with new interest. You thought it was endearing.

"Okay," a clap of your hands, "All is clean, now you can help me make this soothing cream from this book I've read last night!"

🔱 Percy's pov

The need to impress her was overwhelming to Percy. He had never been more concentrated in his life since the day he first tried to read the scrambled words in his book.

Speaking of reading, he remembered that Luke had mentioned every demigods has the same problem. Which was why he asked about this to her as she traced the lines of a brown journal that looked like it had been through some stuff with worn down leather cover.

Pulling out a pair of gold wire frame glasses from her lab coat pocket, she handed it to him. "I use this. It's a special glasses made by the Hephaestus kids few years back. Helps with the dyslexia."

Examining the glasses in his hand, the craftsmanship of it was amazing. Not only does it serves its function, but the design of the frame with little gears magically rotating on the sides. He gave them back to her so as to not suddenly trip and fall and break the glasses.

An hour of science experiment later, Percy helped scoop the baby blue cream into a pot with a spatula. He couldn't believe that he actually made something today without failing! Maybe he was good at something here. But was he really a child of Apollo? It does not seem fit to him.

"Great job, Percy! It was a success," Resting her hands on her waist, she gave him a proud look, which was very satisfying for him. He smiled back at her.

"Apollo might just be your dad," Giving Percy a brotherly pat on the back, Luke gave him a reassuring smile.

"I don't think so, I don't have your eyes," Looking at her, Percy referred to the golden ring around her iris. The first striking thing that had caught his gaze the first time.

It was mesmerizing to see it flicker under the light. He realized why Luke had been stealing glances at her this whole time. Talking to her to get her attention just to see those golden eyes of hers.

"Am I doing this right, [Y/N]?"

" How do I do this, [Y/N]?"

"Which one of these bottles has this again?"

Anything really even though Percy knew that her instructions were pretty clear and with everything labeled you can't mess it up. But it was fun to see him being a chaos and her being so calm responding to him.

A little voice in his head was telling him something was up between these two counselors.

Percy started to think that it was more like Luke that wanted to go here for himself rather than helping him out to find his godly parent. But that didn't leave a negative thought in his head if it meant something to Luke.

"Oh this you get after you've been claimed," Pointing to her eyes, "Like Luke said, you'll never know! I would love to have another brother." The way she said it almost made Percy want to be claimed immediately. To be under her cozy comforting wing as a big sister who has a maternal aura to them, who wouldn't want that? Or was it just him missing his mom?

"I'm going to take this to the Ares cabin, they're the ones who requested it. Said something about muscle soreness or whatever. I thought they didn't get those?" Biting on her bottom lip as the realization came to her, for a moment she was lost in her thoughts.

"But anyway, thank you for helping me and," She looked up to him, " I hope you get settled in today. If you want help with anything, you know where to find me." Winking at him, she started to put away the bottles back to their respective places on the shelves.

"Meet you for dinner later?" Stopping before he exited the room, Luke looked back at her.

"Sure. See ya!" Waving them goodbye, they both thanked her and waved back before leaving the cabin.

But one look at Luke, Percy could tell that he was hoping to stay there longer. It was very calming compared to the chaos of the camp activities outside.

Still, he followed Luke outside.

A/N: hello! i hope you guys follow this series well! the reader's relationship with other characters, especially Luke will be explored more after capture the flag in the next chapter!

as always, likes, reblogs, comments, and asks are welcomed! reply here to be in the tag list!

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #pjo tv show #pjo #land among the stars🏹🗡️#percy jackson

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Text

Yandere Demon x GN! Reader x Yandere Angel

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: swearing, body horror

(An: hope you don’t mind me adding another member. Part one here)

The passage of time continues after the disappearance of your friend – Baron as your personal demon, and you suffering each day in the hell that was his affection. You could hardly breathe anymore with him invading your space at nearly every hour. You tried finding ways to get rid of him on your own, but ‘mysterious’ forces stopped you each time. Your phone or computer disappearing. The pages of library books you read flying off the spines. After a while, you gave up; believing only the act of a higher power could rid you of this demonic pest.

It was the weekend and you were enjoying the few days off. Well – as best as you could with a demon nearly twice your side holding hostage to the space beside you. How he managed to go without breaking the bedframe was honestly the most alarming thing about him. He curled at your side, feet edging over the end of the bed. His large forearm was draped over yours; your head cradled in the palm of his hand. His other limb was squeezes under your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. The lips of his second mouth were curled with a snore – a sound which was closer to a purr as it rumbled in his chest. It was almost a cute sight – almost being the keyword in this scenario.

The sunlight coming from your window was too bright for you to go back to sleep anyway. Using all your strength; you push his arm from over you, Baron whining in protest but remaining asleep. His other hand holds you tighter, claws raking against your skin through your shirt. You lay flat, his hand smooth out against your back. You manage to pull his arm from beneath you, but yours was still trapped beneath his, and felt heavier than the other times he had trapped you in bed. A tingling sensation ran up to your shoulder, but other than that it was complete dead weight. Thinking it felt asleep, you attempt to push him off it. An obvious mistake on your part; considering he was a hundred ton demon and not the lovable pet he acted so much like.

“Hey.” You shake Baron lightly. “Wake up.”

He stirs, humming in response to your demands. “Hmm?..”

“I can’t feel my arm, get off it.”

“ ‘Kay.” He rolls over, giving your arm some much needed air, but it still felt heavy. You could move it, sure, but it felt like there was a five pound weight taped to it. You slung your arm into your lap; finally realizing what weighted you down.

The flesh had been peeled away; the entire limb engulfed in a dark flame. It roared with a silent whisper, embers lingering longer than normal in the air. As they fell and touched the skin of your legs they too began to began to burn away in spots. Though not a lick of pain reached you, the fire slowly ate at your arm; the white of your bones peaking through.

“What the hell?”

Baron stretches, yawning with his jaws unhinged as he looked over at you. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, unfazed by the sight.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“Do you not see my arm being disintegrated?”

“Oh, I forgot to warn you about that. That’s what happens when you make a contract, but don’t use me for anything. It’s sort of a failsafe if someone thinks they can save their soul by not giving any orders.” He yawns again. “Sorry about that.”

“What can I do to stop it?”

“There’s only one thing you can do, Y/n~” If he wasn’t aware before, he was now; cross-legged and awaiting your word. If he had a tail it would be wagging. He was so close to getting what he yearned for-

“Yeah no.”

He cries out. “Come on!” Don’t think of it as a bad thing. It just means our union will finally be complete and we’ll be bound for eternity.”

“Hell no.”

You throw the blanket off you, stumbling from the bed and to your feet with a struggle for balance. You grab your phone from the table and leave the room; Baron at your heels not too long after. He ducks under the doorway, closing the small distance between you in a flash as you dip into the bathroom. You run your arm under the sink; the cool water darkening with the ash that fell, but your arm remained aflame. You attempt to scrub it off to no avail. In the mirror, Baron stands behind you; concern and fear present in his expression.

“Y/n, this is serious. Just give me an order.”

“Was me getting you off my arm not enough?”

“You know it wasn’t. Please, this isn’t even just about death, your entire existence will be erased. ”Your eyes met through the glass; desperation lusted in his voice. “Is it so hard to accept us becoming one?”

You grimace, shutting off the water and squeezing past Baron out the room. You continue down the hall, dialing a number in your phone as you walked.

“Who are you calling, Y/n?”

“No one.”

His tone darkened, patience running thin. “I can see you doing it right now. Is it the hospital? A priest? Outside help can’t save you from this.”

“I’m just ordering something. I can’t think on any empty stomach.”

He allows you your call; irritation setting in further. Even with your arm literally fading from existence, you hardly gave him the time of day. It irked him like nothing else

“It’ll be a minute, so we can finally discuss the elephant in the room….” As if addressing it set off a chain of events; your arm grows even heavier, flames up to your shoulder and now burning against your torso. Fatigue sets in, Baron grabbing onto you before you can fall to the floor. He props you against the wall, his own body keeping you from toppling forward. Looking up at the ceiling, a glow rained down that trapped you in a haze. It thrummed with indecipherable chatter similar to fly’s wings buzzing in your ears – a single string of text registering in your mind.

This has gone on long enough.

“Y/n? Y/n are you okay?” Baron cups the side of your head, trying to get you to look at him.

“I’m fine just.. a little off.”

“We need to fix this before it too late. I’m begging you, it can be anything.”

“I’ll think of something else.”

Baron is close to hysterics. “There is nothing else! Why can’t you see that I’ll do anything for you?! I’ll never betray you for as long as I live. I need you.”

He doesn’t know what to do. Gripping your charred limb, he fantasies of devouring it. As it was, it was a physical representation of your soul. If he ate it that would mean you’d definitely belong to him. A part of your soul would be fused with him, and life could be difficult without an arm. He’d never hurt you in a million years, but his teeth ache at the thought. He just wanted you to need him as much as he needed you. To wait on you on hand and foot until the end of time.

A knock on the door distracts you both; followed by another until three rhythmic beats hit the wood. You look at each other, Baron's hold slipping as you stand up straight to your best extent.

“Do you think that’s the food?”

“It’s only been like five minutes.”

“Do you think they can see…”You glance down at your body.. “..this?”

Baron shrugs.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.” You hobble towards the door. Baron wants to stop you, but knows he has no power to do so. The closer you get, the more an odd pressure presses down on your brain – like someone used a massage gun on a low setting. The presence on the other side was luminescence through the door, its aura seeping through the cracks – calling to you. You feel compelled to open the door as you draw near; flinging it open to greet whatever lied in wait.

The first thing you see is its torso, ending right at your head level and covered with a robe that draped to its feet – feathers fallen to the ground below. It was easily taller than Baron, somewhere around ten feet if you had to guess. Traveling your gaze upwards, you see a pair of wings shielded to its body; looking mended with the cloth due to both being the same pearl white color. Eyes burrowed into its exposed forearms; stuck stationary on different areas of the space. Finally at its head, four smaller wings covered its face; lips visible and posed in a gentle smile down at you. A streak of gold ran from chin upwards from what you could see; a golden halo wrapped in wispy strains of yellow behind its head.

“Good afternoon, Y/n. It’s an honor to be in your presence.” It begins. It’s voice was soft and masculine; echoing in your skull. “I am your guardian angel, Alasdair and I am here to save you.”

“…huh?”

“I am sure you are surprised. I am as well, considering all the paperwork it took for the high ups to allow me to, but I am to rid you of the evils in your life and remain with you for your remaining seventy four years on this earth to assure your spot in heaven.”

“Are you sure you have the right person?”

The eyes on it arms snap to yours, head tilting to the side. “I see that you’ve resisted the demon's temptations so far. Worry not for I have already smite the one that brought it into existence.”

“That… doesn’t sound very angel like.”

“My apologies, it is what I must do to protect your image as your eternal knight.”

“I think I’m good.” You shut and lock the door, turning around to see Baron who had watched the ordeal from the sidelines. His chipper mood was practically radiating; his arms open to you for a hug.

“You choose me over saving your damned soul. Oh I knew you loved me, Y/n!”

“I never said that. Somehow you just seemed like the lesser evil.”

“Harsh.. but a start.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best approach.

Out of thin air, a man appears before you; dressed to the nines in a fancy white suit and golden tie. His skin was a porcelain white along with nearly every other feature aside from golden rings around his eye. A halo hung behind his head, albeit dimmer than before. He bows before you, paying no mind to the demon staring him down right behind him.

“Alasdair at your service. I realize that form may have been frightening to you. I thought I had toned it down enough for you, but I see that I was mistaken. Allow me to help.”

He takes your cursed arm; fingers down to the knuckles at this point. He clasps it with both hands, warmth shooting upwards as brilliance overthrows the flames; snuffing them out until only your exposed bone remained. It shined with a honey colored blaze, the flesh repairing itself and making your arm whole once more. You test its mobility; the traces of a smile pulling at your lips.

“Impressive. Can you get rid of the contract like this too?”

Baron's rage boils over.

“Unfortunately, the only way I can do that is to smite the devil that’s destined itself to you. That wouldn’t be much of a problem, regardless.”

Baron makes him turn around, closing his fist around the smaller beings throat with teeth and glums flashing. Alasdair remains unfazed – smirking even as the demon seethes with anger.

“Is there a problem?”

“Of course there’s a fucking problem. First a bunch of pathetic humans, and now a limpdick, waste of space angel is coming after what belongs to me.”

“There’s no use for such vulgar language. Besides, if they belonged to anyone it would be me. I know them better than they know themselves. No one is a better fit for their servant than me."

Alasdair’s grin grows. “On top of that I’ve made a good impression from the start and they accepted my grace. If they wanted you, wouldn’t they have used your power by now?”

“I’ll break your limbs and make you devour your kin for those bastards thinking they can send someone to take Y/n from me!”

“I came on my own accord and the only person’s who’s safety matters to me is there’s.”

Baron snarls. He raises his hand, claws extended; but before he can bring them down you step between them both.

“Don’t you dare.”

He drops his hand and grip on Alasdair. “Y/n..? Why are you defending him?”

“Because they know who’s best. Isn’t that right, dearest?” Alasdair muses, twirling a finger through a lock of your hair. You smack his hand away.

“I’m not defending either of you. I’m tired and I don’t want to hear your bickering. I’m going to lay down and if you both can keep your heads on till I’m awake we can figure this out, got it?”

The two stare at you, then each other

“Fiine.”

“If that is what you wish, Y/n.”

You leave them to their own devices, heading back to bed to try and process what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

When you wake later you find yourself completely immobile. Alasdair laid to your right, propped slightly against the bed frame while holding onto your upper body. Baron was to your left, palm against your back once more and legs wrapped around yours. A natural hatred between the two; an obsessive love over you. Though who came first was a mystery, the other compiled in a cease-fire for that afternoon alone.

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wolven91 · 2 months

Text

Drifting - Part 3

The Nerve Suit was skintight and left nothing to the imagination.

Casper had already tried plucking the thin layer of jet black second skin away from himself, but hadn’t been able to get any purchase on it with his covered fingertips. Looking back to the mirror, the only thing exposed was his face and shaved head. The young man grimaced, he’d never been one for hair styles, but cutting off his messy brown curls had been an unpleasent twist that he hadn’t expected when agreeing to this experiment. Glancing down in the mirror, he instinctively covered himself, the suit rendered him genderless at a glance, but it was still rather obvious after more than a passing glance.

“Casper?” Came a voice and the now telltale sound of robotic legs whirring and walking towards the room the human was stood in. He glanced back at his normal clothes, then at the mirror again.

“In here.” The young man called out. The sounds of the robotic legs go louder until he saw Wren appear in the mirror in the doorway to the room. She was atop her bipedal robotic platform that most geckins used around anyone larger than their single foot in height.

“They’re all ready for you. Last chance to run without anyone seeing.” The foot tall green geckin offered without emotion in her voice. Neither judging, nor leading him in a certain way. Casper suspected that she had her own horse in this race, but out of everyone who the young man had spoken to; she’d been the most warm.

“This is going to be fun.” Casper began, convincing himself as much as her as he turned and, whilst trying to ignore that he was very much on display to her, she matched his pace as he marched toward the hanger. Speed and stride wasn’t a problem for the geckin, at least not for their platforms. They could outrun Casper at the push of a button, completely ignoring they’d outlast him with the fusion cores that powered them.

“It’s certainly going to be interesting, but why would you use the word ‘fun’?” Wren asked calmly, keeping the conversation light, but still obviously monitoring the man. The small green geckin had become his doctor and psychologist of sorts. Carefully watching him and seemingly keeping the more extreme ‘Zeet’, the head engineer, in check.

“Well, we have media and fantasy stories about piloting mechs. Whole franchises that are built around the concept of bipedal or multi-legged technicals. Apparently, I’m living the dream, and I didn’t even need to train for it.” Casper shrugged, feeling oddly disconnected from the current events.

“You understand this is unlikely to be easy right?” The small green alien gently pointed out. A glance down at her and Casper noted how her neck ruffle was pulled tight against her. He gave her a wane smile and nodded.

“Oh yes, Zeet has explained at length that it’ll be like learning to walk again. Moving an arm or leg on its own, is its own thing. Even all four limbs is another level, but I’m going to be controlling a thirty-foot mech, dealing with its balance, its systems, everything.” Casper grinned and chuckled as they entered the hanger proper, and the noise went up significantly. Casper had to raise his voice somewhat to ensure Wren could hear him, she had to practically shout back at him.

“He made a big deal that I would struggle to balance it without a tail.” The human said with a smirk.

Wren grinned a sharp grin.

Taking a moment to look up at the giant machine, Casper could only be impressed.

The mech itself was a rough translation of a human body. Two legs, two arms, a torso and a head on top. They had toyed with the idea of a more mobile machine, with digitigrade legs or even giving him equipment for his first outing, but Wren had been present and argued them all down. In the end, it was her pointing out, not for Casper’s safety, but the cost of breaking or damaging complicated equipment if the first piloting effort failed.

No point in having a fancy jetpack if a panicked human trigged the jets and crashed into the ceiling, rending the bay unusable for the foreseeable future.

So as Casper gave the giant bipedal vehicle a critical eye, he noted that it was surprisingly thin. The legs were slim, several meters wide to a normal human, but compared to the rest of the mech it felt like they were too small to lift such bulk. Likewise, the arms were malnourished, obviously barebones. He could see pistons and wires. They were all strapped down and had metal plates protecting them in places, but this mech was not designed for anything other than an experiment.

A prototype. Saying their true mechs often looked like geckins; digitigrade legs for explosive speed and massive mechanical tails for balance. Casper had to guess that this was the first, truly humanoid machine they’d made… and only in the short space of time too.

Their industry capability was frightening.

“He was quite upset that he had to remove the tail section of the mech. No point in adding parts and complexity for the first step.” She pointed out, that wasn’t something Casper had heard yet. Interesting. The next time Casper spoke, it was to Zeet in the form of a short, sharp ‘good luck’ and nod.

“You look ready, like a real geckin pilot.” The blue geckin pointed out, gesturing to the skintight Nerve Suit from his position on his own mobile platform.

“Just a bit taller.” Casper grinned, but realised he made a faux par with the immediate frown form Zeet. “Sorry. Nerves. The suits pretty tight, I didn’t realise it would be like this.” The young quickly said, running a gloved hand over his stomach. Thankfully, this change in topic was enough to remove the dark look on the blue geckin’s face as they rejoined the conversation again. He had to remember that geckins were touchy about their height…

“Yes, well the Nerve Suit is needed to ensure the body has as little feedback from your true body as possible. It should be plenty light as it’s only a pawful of atoms thick.” Casper pulled a face and rubbed his fingertips together. He felt pressure, but not sensation other than how slick his grip was.

“You ready to climb in? Remember, we’re just calibrating. Remember; don’t be disappointed if you can’t run yet, all we’re looking for is movement. Wiggle the feet, twitch the fingers. Look up and down.” Zeet rambled, nervous all of a sudden at the prospect of the human experiment. He continued to run through a check list of basic movements.

“I understand Zeet, I’ll do my best for you.” Casper promised, unsure if he could reach out and touch the shoulder of the geckin, or if that would be too far. Was he supposed to be the nervous one? With everything going on with humanity, it seemed impossible that they would allow anything to happen to the young man. Like walking along a tourist bridge and it has a glass floor; this was all simulated danger, not real danger. Right? Casper turned to the mech itself and headed towards the team of technicians who were waiting for him. They were crowded around the open hatch where Casper would climb in like a pack of scavengers waiting for their prey to fall over.

The clamber into the pilot chamber wasn’t the issue, nor was the coffin-like pod that required Casper to lay down with his arms crossed over his chest, it was the needles. The pod pressed in on his legs, hips and shoulders, his arms were still free for the moment, but would be locked into place when the sarcophagus’s lid came down into place. The inside of the casket was filled with a gel that had given way by several inches as he sat down, then shuffled himself in. If he was struck by anything, or more likely; fell over, the gel would absorb the impact to his physical body. It would also swell, once he was sealed, securing him in place.

“Legs in place!” Called one of the techs as they fit a breather over Casper’s nose and mouth.

Then, after a moment, Casper was stabbed.

Along the various rivers and paths that followed his nervous system, hundreds of hair thin needles all stabbed into him like a wave of bee stings, causing the human to grunt and flinch. The shoulder locks stopped him from moving too much as the techs gave curt nods that all was well. Then a series of five needles thrust into and along the young man’s spine and he lost all feeling of his body.

His eyes snapping open and gasping at the sudden pain and of a fear that something had gone wrong! He couldn’t move!

Zeet appeared in his vision, next to two of the techs that were disconnecting tubes from the mech itself.

“You’re good. First disconnect from your nervous system is always the worst they say. We’re about to give up control on the mech, you’ll be in the dark for a few minutes, but that’s it. Blink twice if you understand.” Asked the blue geckin, staring down at the human. Without a voice, the young man, blinked twice.

“Outstanding, good human. Lets get this closed and submerge him. Casper? You’ll hear me over the radio. Follow my instructions. You’re going to be seeing the world from a whole new perspective.”

Casper tried to nod but was reminded again that he couldn’t move at all. He just laid there.

Flat on his back, from the perspective of a corpse in a grave, looking up at the techs and Zeet, as if they were mourners about to throw the first handfuls of dirt upon him.

Then the lid of his casket slid closed and sealed against him. He felt pressure on his body as the gel filled casket embraced him and then all was still. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see or hear. He couldn’t smell anything. His body wanted to twitch, to move and kick. But even when he tried to test the limits of the pod, of the gel, he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even tell if he was moving!

Panic was rather rapidly growing within his chest as he lay there, alone in a sensationless void.

Was this what death felt like?

“-asper? Casper can you hear me?” Zeet’s voice appeared in his head.

He tried to instinctively respond, to say ‘[Yes]’, but immediately felt and knew it was pointless, his [paralyzed throat and mouth meant talking was out].

“Excellent! We’ve got your feed here. You don’t need your throat anymore.” Came the excited reply.

[What?]

“You’re connected to the machine’s transponder. You talk, or try to talk like normal, and we will read you.” Zeet explained, Casper could hear the excitement in his voice.

[Is everything okay?]

“It’s going fantastic! We literally just turned this system on and you’re already communicating with us. You’re a natural, human! You ready for more systems?”

With nothing better to do, Casper thought of his reply.

[Sure, let’s do it.]

“Alright, give me a minute.”

It was a strange method to talk. Casper could… feel? The correct way to communicate. It wasn’t his unprocessed thoughts being transmitted. He could feel what he was sending to Zeet, like he was approving every syllable. What information the human wanted to send, was sent, and nothing more. There was no tone, no emotion. His words, thoughts, sentences, were words on a screen.

Light appeared, briefly blinding Casper, who squinted, and the hangar immediately came into focus. His head was drooped forward and for the most part he could only see the floor that had been directly in front of the mech itself. There were geckins down there all running to and fro. Focusing on one, Casper’s vision rapidly zoomed in and he could see each and every individual scale on the yellow geckin tech’s face, before Casper relaxed his eyes a fraction and his vision pulled out slightly. The geckin tech monitored a console that sat beneath the tower where Casper had entered, seemingly unaware he was being watched.

“Okay, we’ve turned on your external cameras. Do you feel any new sensations? Any sort of… connections that you can access?” Zeet asked carefully.

[I can see.]

“Yes, we want you to access those so you can see out of the cameras attached to the recon unit.”

[No Zeet, I can see. There’s a yellow geckin at my feet.]

“You can- Hoy! Who’s below us?” Zeet shouted, Casper could tell it was loud, but the radio wasn’t being ‘heard’ in the sense that the human wasn’t using his ‘ears’ to hear the radio. He was… understanding it without the need for such things.

As Casper watched, the yellow geckin reacted, looking up and waving his arms up at someone before shrugging.

“You’re right! You’ve already… Hah! Okay then. This is beyond what I was hoping for. I think we can jump a few steps.”

“Sir, this is ill-advised.” Wren voice said, coming over the radio loud and clear.

“You’re here as a courtesy doctor, you’re welcome, but now as a courtesy, you will not interfere with my work.”

[What’s happening?]

“We’re going to disconnect you from our power and control. You will have full control of the mech and its systems.”

[You said that was dangerous?]

“For a normal pilot yet. But your aptitude for this was off the charts. I think it’s time to jump a few levels.”

There was a flurry of activity as the geckins who were milling about at Casper’s feet suddenly began disconnecting from the various consoles and began disappearing from the edge of the human’s vision. He could see the metal platforms that counted as the mech’s feet, but aside from that and the bottom of the tower, there was just the hanger floor.

“Alright, we’ve got everyone to a safe distance. In a few seconds, we’re passing control of the whole mech to yourself. We won’t be in control of anything. You ready?”

[As I’ll ever be.]

“Good. Hand off in 3… 2… 1…”

The change was sudden and startling. Immediately, Casper’s legs buckled as his knees weren’t prepared to take the sudden weight of his body once more. His arms flung forward as the ground rushed up to greet him, but he stopped himself from bouncing his head off the concrete by completing a half press-up.

There was too much, too fast. His body felt, stiff; tight. Like he’d been in a cramped position for so long that his whole body was sluggish.

It was too much. Casper felt lightheaded, as if he was suffocating! His heart was pounding in his chest so fast that it was humming! A giant metal hand reached up and clutched at his metal torso, sparks flying as the two metals clashed against each other.

[Something’s wrong!]

“It’s fine, just activate your intakes.” Zeet ordered calmly, despite the panic rising.

“He’s panicking, eject him.”

“No, he just needs to start up the intakes. Casper? Your reactor needs air flow, active the intakes.”

“Power it down Zeet! His vitals are spiking.”

[I don’t. I can’t. My chest feels tight!]

The human was panicking, he could feel something was wrong, like he was running on empty, like he needed to close his eyes and lay down. It felt like he was dying.

“Casper! Batteries are running low, active the intakes!”

The words were less clear now, like his mind was swimming. The young man felt for the first time since getting into the machine his vision failed, like he was blinking despite not needing to before now.

Wren’s voice broke through the roaring and nonsense that Casper was being bombarded by.

“Breathe Casper! Take a breath!”

The human sucked in air as deeply as he could shocked that he had forgotten such a normal thing.

From outside, the vents that lined the pectoral area of the mech slammed open with great turbines that sucked in the vital oxygen needed for the reactor that sat in the centre of the mech’s chest. It burped to life and the exhausts along the back of the machine began to spew heat and a cough of black smoke. To the geckin engineers, the ever-pleasant noise of a system booting up to full power whined to life as the human mech heaved in an oddly biological movement.

There were no ‘lungs’ built into the machine, only vents, fans, and a reactor to power it all, but the way it was gyrating, put only the image of someone who had been suffocating gulping in air into their minds. The mech was currently on one knee, the other leg folded to support its weight. One arm was placed on the ground and the second was still touching the chest plate, scratching the bare, unpainted metal.

[I’m okay.]

“’Breathe’ doctor?” Snapped Zeet, not addressing or not seeing the text on his console that Casper had sent.

“He’s not trained on the technical specifications of a machine. His point of reference is what he can feel. What he knows.” Replied Wren, defensively, but not backing down.

“He said they had media of mechs, that it was a common fantasy. What popular media doesn’t have common sense specs?!” Barked Zeet’s voice.

“He’s not a geckin, he’s human. The importance of certain subject will be different.” She replied, still sturdy in her observation.

The voices in Casper’s head continued to bicker as the world stopped swimming and he slowly raised his head to look around. He felt less sluggish now, like he had started to shake the cobwebs from his bones and movement was easier, as if he was awake again. He felt strong. Fast. As if his body not just wouldn’t fail him; but couldn’t.

== 0 ==

To the outside, whilst Zeet and Wren continued to argue the toss, the techs watched as the giant mech’s recon unit raised up and scanned the hanger. With a great heave, one of the legs raised the body up in a single smooth movement before the second leg straightened and held the giant mech upright and proud.

The mechanical hands, simple things, were raised as the cameras of the recon unit that sat atop the mech inspected them, as if seeing them for the first time. This was more than any of the techs had expected. New pilots barely got their radios working after the first hour, let alone movement. Why was it so… biological in its movements?

“Sir?” Called the head technician, up at the two geckins that were still arguing over utilizing the correct terminology in a professional setting and pointedly ignoring the several hundred-ton mech that was now moving around in a manner that was thought impossible for the timeline.

The mech took a single step forward, then a second.

“Sir?!” Shouted the head tech again, more urgently now.

Thankfully, Zeet and the good doctor paused their debate to look round, only to realize the mech was no longer where they left it.

It was currently headed towards the great metal shutter that blocked the outside world from the hanger. Beyond the shutter was the proving grounds, where pilots that had finally fully integrated with their mechs would prove that they were ready for furthering the geckin interests.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #mecha

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

Text

Firewatch Part 6

Summary: Things heat up with your and Kyle, and you try to enact your plan.

Words: 2k

CW: Smut, dubcon (explanation in the tags if you want more info and don't mind slight spoilers)

Kyle Garrick was a complete mystery to you. The way he moved around you as if you had known one another forever, small touches gliding across you whenever he was close. The way he pouted cutely when even after putting food out for her, Dosia had no time at all for him. The way he asked a thousand questions and you watched as after every answer he took a moment to file the information away in his head. Your favourite colour, when you had got Dosia, what foods you liked, dream vacation spot, pet peeves and comfort shows. He received every answer with grace even when they surprised him.

“I didn’t think you’d be into horror” he said with a bright grin, deft hands peeling oranges for the dessert he was making now that lunch was happily bubbling away.

You didn’t mind cooking even if you didn’t have any great love for it, but you were more than content to just sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and watch him work. The lazy rays of sunlight kept catching him and you didn’t even find you were reluctant to admit to yourself that he was beautiful. Of course he was still happily in those wholesome flannel bottoms and no shirt. Of course.

“I think after the past 48 hours I might have lost my love of it” you answered, as if to remind yourself out loud that this beautiful man cooking your favourite meal for lunch was not someone to fall for.

It was fascinating to watch him frown and look at you with those eyes all full of apologies and longing. Fascinating and heart wrenching because it really made you feel guilty using him the way you intended. He abandoned the oranges and moved to where you were perched on the stool.

“We saved you luv, you’re safe.”

As if it was the fire that you had found horrifying. Although thinking about it now did make your heartbeat pick up when you remembered that awful choking smoke smothering and blinding you. You didn’t remember much from when you had been fading, too terrified to move towards the doorway when you could see the blaze through it. But you remembered the figure that had barreled through and roughly held your face for a moment in some sort of relief you were alive. You remembered being lifted and the quick flash of heat as you were carried through. You remembered the sky had never looked so beautiful even as grey as it was.

Kyle saw it again, saw you experiencing it in your head. Last time it had happened he had kissed you and had felt his self-control steam out of his ears immediately. You had been in those cute little dungarees then, but now you were dressed in Price’s sweatpants and tshirt and it did something for him. It felt forbidden to touch you when his Captain had so clearly marked you his, and that made the idea all the more attractive. But he fought it, he fought it as much as he could, instead taking your hand in his and smoothing his thumb in soothing circles.

“You are right here, you’re safe. You can breathe,” he said gently.

Stupid handsome boy and his stupid comfort and your stupid feelings.

“Thank you.”

There was a moment where you just stared at one another and you thought he might kiss you, but he didn’t. He kept himself still but for the thumb rubbing your knuckles. Except for this half baked plan to work you needed him to kiss you. You needed there to be evidence on your body of him for the others to see, especially Johnny. After all the past two times you had been cosy with Kyle it had been him that caught you, him that was mad about it.

“Kyle…” you whispered, finding that the tremor and neediness in your voice came easier than it should.

He had self-control, but not that much. Not enough to turn down the open invitation you were giving him even if he did suspect that you had some ulterior motive. He wasn’t stupid and you were far from the tame little thing he had imagined you so he didn’t buy the damsel act, but he also wasn’t a good enough man to let you know that when it ran the risk you would give up on whatever plan involved getting him on you.

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you leaned forward slightly to wrap your lips around the digit. You watched his eyes, how they were fixated on watching as your mouth welcomed his thumb and then welcomed two of his fingers when he switched to pressing them against your lips. You swirled your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken.

Honestly you had thought he would just kiss you as a response, not whatever this was. The pads of his fingers massaging orange oil into your tongue was causing a violent flurry of butterflies in your stomach, like you were on a roller coaster during the drop. You hadn't really meant to suckle on them the way you were doing, but it felt instinctual, it felt like you needed to see the bobbing of his Adams apple as he had to swallow thickly at the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

You just stared at him as he withdrew his fingers and looked at you, both of you flushed. His fingers were glistening with your saliva and he made no move to wipe them off.

"Tell me I can use them."

You thought your heart might have thudded hard enough to smash into your ribcage as you nodded shakily.

"Words luv."

He was being serious you realised. He really wanted to make sure you were enthusiastic in your consent. The man who had, with his team, kidnapped you and faked your death, wanted you to be enthusiastic in your consent. Fuck it was hard not to like him.

"You can use them," you said, voice cracking. He stared at you and waited, obvious that he wanted more than that. "You can use your fingers on me, I… Kyle please, want you to."

And you did. You did want him to. Before you could process that little fact and feel the mortification from having said it out loud, his fingers still wet from your saliva had slipped into the waistband of the sweats you were wearing and dragged straight from your entrance to your clit. He got even closer to you which let you drop your head against his chest and just pant, focusing on trying not to get overwhelmed.

It was difficult, it was so difficult. Kyle was spectacular with his fingers, playing with you softly enough that you were biting back little whines and begs for him to do more. If the fact that this was actually doing fuck all to leave a physical mark on you came to your head, you fully ignored it. If the fact that one of the hands you had clinging to his bare chest moved down to feel him through the fabric of his pants then you ignored that too. God you wanted to see if you could take him, he felt big.

“M’going to, come on luv, tell me I can” he said into your hair as his fingers teased at your entrance, looking for permission to sink them into your heat.

When you just mumbled incoherently he pressed his thumb to your clit and drew delicious circles with it, getting you insanely close to the edge and then slowing again and again.

“Words, need words.”

“I-I- fuck please. Ok please? Just fucking finger me already!”

You were near shouting at him and horribly embarrassed at the words that had snapped out of your mouth. How long had it been since someone else touched you like this? The hand you had on him slipped under his pants to really feel him, start pumping at that hot velvety cock that you knew would fit perfectly inside you. It would be a stretch, especially after so long, but fuck you wanted it so badly as his fingers finally speared into you, making you cry out pathetically against his chest. You were enjoying this immensely, but you tried to cling onto the last shreds of your plan. Kyle needed to like you, you needed to turn him against the others. And honestly if he did run away with you, would it be so bad to give in and stay with him?

Kyle may not have had the self-control to leave you be, but he was patient and could take it torturously slow. He was glad your face was buried as it was, not able to see the feral little grin he had at how out of control you got. You probably didn’t even realise that you were going fast and hard at his cock, getting him close enough that he knew he’d wind up cumming first if he didn’t stop you. It was fucking beautiful how you were wriggling in the stool, fucking yourself down onto his fingers and making circles with your hips to get more friction from his thumb on your clit. When he crooked his fingers inside you the strangled noise you made was music to his ears. He wasn’t intending of cumming first, was fully about to make you slow down, but then you gave yourself away.

“K-Kyle! Please, I- I don’t want the others to touch me, just you. I’m yours.”

So that was your game. Honestly he felt a little bad for you with how poorly put together this little scheme was. You were barely able to even commit to the words, clearly not really caring fully about what you were saying but forcing yourself to say it nonetheless. He slid his eyes to the window, locking them with Soap and Price outside with mischief clearly on his mind. He had noticed them arrive when you had been tumbling into flashbacks, had given them a small shake of the head to indicate they should hold off coming in and let him handle it. They wound up getting quite a show with how loud you were. Price only rolled his eyes at how dumb he found your attempt to sow discord between them and lit a cigar, turning away. Soap grinned, clearly delighted with the ammunition they now had, fully intending to watch the end of this little show.

“Say it again luv, who do you belong to?”

Hearing you sob out his name while wearing Price’s clothes, while he had his eyes locked with Soap outside, that had him groaning and cumming messily into your hand. And then without much ceremony he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hand back, stepping away from you.

You were wildly confused at first, left panting on the stool with one of your hand sticky from his cum and your whole body a live wire, desperate to finish. The confusion turned to white hot anger when he smirked at you, clearly not intending on finishing what he started. You went to screech at him when you heard the door open, whipping your head around to watch Johnny swagger in. You caught a glimpse of cigar smoke, oh God Price was out there.

Without even acknowledging you Kyle held out his fingers and Johnny walked over to suck your arousal off of them with a delighted little groan. You could not fucking breathe watching it. And when Johnny turned to you and delicately put a hand to your throat, growled into your ear, you thought your heart might have stopped.

“Stupid wee bonnie thing, your naw going tae cum until ye get permission from every single one of us.”

Just like that the heat of him was gone with a little warning squeeze to your throat and him and Kyle were discussing what was for lunch. They laughed jovially about the state of Kyle, Price finally coming in and telling him to go clean up while him and Johnny sorted the rest of the cooking. They were so comfortable around one another. Oh, oh this plan was never going to work was it?

You sat, wet and miserable and angry, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #ok so that CW #reader does consent to the smut but is not aware there is an audience #also like these people still kidnapped you so there's that #is this perhaps the dumbest reader I have ever written?#we'll blame it on the trauma

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

For Pleasure

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ content!! Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Cursing, food, people pointing guns at each other, non-sexual nudity, alcohol consumption, angst, mentions of death, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, fingering, hair pulling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, Joel smut comes with its own warning. Summary: A chance encounter outside of the QZ will change two lives forever, even if neither you nor Joel realizes it at the time. Notes: The much-requested prequel to For Her ! The response to the original piece was completely overwhelming and we are so grateful and humbled by everyone’s enthusiasm for this couple’s journey. Thank you for reading!

Going outside the walls, outside the so called ‘safety’ of the FEDRA Boston QZ was always a gamble. It was better to go in numbers, at least with Tess, so someone had his back. Another set of eyes and another weapon to handle the surprises that always spring up. That wasn’t possible though. Tess was not speaking to him. The on and off arrangement that they seemed to always drift back to was currently adrift, deciding that she would go back to her own place and give him space. It irritates him, but he’s not going to go groveling. She wanted to sleep beside him or not, her decision. She was a big girl, not a fucking child and he didn’t have the patience for that shit right now. He doesn’t even have Tommy. His brother abandoned him for the Fireflies. Caught up in their patriotic bullshit about bringing back democracy. Hard for democracy to survive when the entire house of cards is built on a shaky foundation. Every year more of the city was lost, more people lost. It wasn’t like people were having a shit ton of kids to boost the population. Tommy had left a year ago to head out, some secret mission and had barely said goodbye. The last words between them in person were slightly bitter, but Joel regrets that. So here he is, moving alone. His gun is a firm, familiar weight in his hand as he moves through the decaying remnants of society. Two fucking miles outside of Boston and he could be on the moon for all it matters. He had lost hours waiting for some infected to move from where he was crouched, too many of them for him to take on. Now it’s getting dark, and he’s needing to find someplace to stay.

The house doesn't look special from the outside. That's why he chooses it. The layer of dust over everything doesn't look interrupted, things haven't been upended. It isn't until he gets well inside the structure of the old Dutch Colonial farmhouse that Joel realizes he isn't alone. The sound of the door creaking open is deliberate. You had been investigating the kitchen, checking stores of food that might still be usable and been delighted with the discovery of running water. A shower - even a cold shower - is more than you've been able to have in weeks. Traveling from your last settlement after infection had taken hold turned out to be even harder than you expected, and it's not like you didn't know you were living in an apocalypse of sorts. There's a man on the other side of the doorway that looks like he would shoot a person as soon as look at them, so your gun is already aimed at the back of his head when you nudge the door open with your foot. "Turn around slowly." You order, trying to sound as icy as possible.

“Woah.” Joel closes his eyes for a moment and mouths a ‘fuck’ to himself. “Woah, easy….” He pulls his fingers away from the gun’s trigger. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m not wantin’ trouble.” He’s too tired for trouble, or maybe he’s tired of trouble but he just wants to find a place to bunk down, and apparently this area is taken. Slowly, he turns his body to face the voice and the gun in front of it. He’s learned that it doesn't matter if it’s a man or woman, both are deadly.

"You figured you'd just walk up in my house and start looking around?" It isn't yours. Not anything like it. But you're going to throw yourself into an act of over-confidence to cover up the fact that you almost just squeezed your thighs together when this guy turned around. How are some people still so fucking sexy after the end of the world?

“Your house?” Joel cuts his eyes around, taking in the tatty cover on the sofa and the inch deep layer of dust. “You’re a hell of a housekeeper.” He huffs at you in amusement. You’re pretty and obviously alone because he doesn’t hear anyone else knocking around. He would have been barreling in from wherever if he had been if he was with you.

"Didn't figure I'd be entertainin' gentleman callers," you gripe, imitating his light Southern accent. Wherever he's from, it's not Massachusetts.

Gentleman. Joel nearly snorts, appreciating the snark and slowly lowering his hands as he watches you closely. “Was just lookin’ for a place to hold up for the night.”

"Nothing else around here but empty houses with no food." The slight waiver to your hand is unintentional, and you swallow down your nerves. This man is the first person you've been near since leaving Maine and there's a mix of fear and relief coursing through you that you hadn't expected.

Joel sees your nervousness, the wariness that comes with coming across someone uninfected. The thought makes him narrow his eyes on the tremor of your hand. “You’re infected.” He hisses, the gun that had been hanging from his fingers now gripped tight and pointed right at your head. “When were you bitten?” He demands harshly.

“I’m not!” There’s more panic in your voice than you’re proud of, and instead of doubling down with keeping him arm’s length away you end up putting your free hand up in unconscious surrender. “I just — I left someplace where everybody else was. I’m not sick.”

He hasn’t survived nearly twenty years by believing someone. Too many people lie, not willing to face their fate. He rocks his jaw. Ten years ago he might have just shot you, but he doesn’t. Motioning to you with his revolver, Joel grunts. “Strip down. All of it. Let me see.”

In the world before the Outbreak you might actually have slapped him. Spit at him for being such a pig. But in the world before the Outbreak, a complete stranger demanding that you strip naked to prove your health would have deserved it. “Guns down.” That’s your first compromise. If you’re going to strip you don’t want to do it at gunpoint, and it’s not like you’ll have your own gun in hand to get the drop on him. “Then you prove it, too.”

It's an acceptable compromise. Joel nods and slowly lowers his weapon so he can slide it into his hips holster as soon as you start setting your own down. "Sounds fair." He tells you. It's not about seeing you bare, although you are gorgeous enough to make his mind stray, it's about making sure you don't turn in a few hours and come after him. It's only natural you would have the same fears, or worse.

"If we're both clean, we split the food." There's enough cans and things in the kitchen to give you both supplies. Whoever lived here was really into lentils and preserved meats which leads you to believe they had planned on living a good long life in the new world. That clearly hadn't panned out for them. "There's running water, too."

Joel tilts his head, surprised that you would be that generous when you were obviously here first. "If you aren't infected, I'll secure the house while you clean up, shower or whatever." He offers, knowing that for now there is a wary truce.

Barely pausing in unbuttoning your shirt, you glance up at him with a twisted smirk. "You want me to cook dinner while you shower, darling?" You bat your eyelashes at him dramatically, and you would roll your eyes at the same time if you could, but it's actually a good plan. Working together could help keep you both alive and actually let you rest. Being on your toes at all times is fucking exhausting.

He snorts, barely repressing a smile as he gives a small shake of his head. "Depends on if you can cook." He jokes, nearly groaning at the idea of a shower and shuffling slightly when you strip off your shirt. He inspects every inch of skin, even though he knows he's going to make you take it all off. Looking for bites or marks that would be indicative of infection. Unlike FEDRA agents, he doesn't have a scanner.

"Yeah. I can cook." It says something that you can't remember the last time you were naked with anyone, let alone anyone you found attractive. Instead of being tense from attraction, though, you're tense at the evidence of being attracted - hoping that you crumble your underwear away fast enough that he doesn't smell arousal on the fabric. You shove your clothes onto the chair next to where you're standing, arms out like you're at a doctor's office or dealing with the fucking FEDRA troops. "Satisfied?"

"Turn around." It's not to get a perfect view of your ass, but his eyes fall immediately to it. Admiring it. Hell, he's fucking alive and still enough of a red-blooded man to enjoy a beautiful woman naked in front of him even though he wouldn't touch you. His eyes sweep over your back, your neck and shoulders and he even checks your ankles for marks. Quickly nodding, he doesn't want to make it weird. "Okay. My turn I guess."

"Yup." Relief is an unexpected thing to feel, but you know he could easily have shot you while your back was turned. You don't know anything about him except that you're both survivors, and survivors can do a hell of a lot of things to make sure they stay that way. But you push the thought out of your mind for now and grab your clothes, swiftly redressing while he starts unstrapping his various belts and untying his boots.

He's got no shame in undressing. Some like the look of him naked, or at least they did, but it's not about that right now. His jeans are shucked, thankfully the half chub he was sporting wasn't too obvious that he had been reactive to your naked body. Peeling off his clothes to stand straight and let you inspect him as he holds out his arms just like you did.

You’re embarrassed how fast your eyes go to his dick. Determined to pretend that you simply intended to start his inspection at his legs instead of his face, you don’t touch but mentally mark every bruise and healed cut along his skin, pushing away the impulse to fucking lick when you’re eye level with his chest. “Turn around.” Alright. At least he has no ass, you think to yourself with a smirk when his back is to you. If he looked like that, had that big a dick, and had a perfect ass you might have moaned or something equally ridiculous and horrifying. “Fine. Neither of us is infected.”

Turning around, Joel picks up his clothes. Amused that now you are looking everywhere but at him when you first saw him naked you could barely stop staring at his dick. "Do you want to make use of the running water first?" He asks, aware that the sun will be setting soon. "Or do you want to start dinner, sweetheart?" He chuckles, using a pet name like you had before. "If you want to soak in some water, I can make my shower quick and warm up a pot?" He offers, unsure why he is but the words are already out of his mouth. Perhaps because tonight will feel as normal as it could be in this world. Like the past twenty years weren't there.

“I’ll shower first.” There’s no point in trying to be precious about things, and you saw clothing on one of the upstairs bedrooms that will probably fit you. Having left Maine with almost nothing, it would be nice to have a change. “You secure the house.” Halfway to fleeing the scene, you catch yourself at the bottom of the dusty staircase and turn around. He’s buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt when you swallow your nerves and introduce yourself. First names are all that’s needed anymore, so it’s all you give, but it still feels polite.

Joel snorts, realizing he’s seen you naked and doesn't know your name. Like it was nearly thirty-five years ago and he was partying and bringing home chicks he didn’t know. “Joel.” He offers quietly. “Miller.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller.” It’s about as polite a meeting as anybody can have these days, and you offer him a nod before turning up the stairs. There’s lukewarm water calling your name, and you swear you saw bars of Dove soap up there, too. Not just the government issued shit FEDRA rations.

Joel listens to you moving around up there, just listening for a second before he starts looking around. The windows are all still intact and the door still locked, the frame still good. The house must have just been abandoned and never looted. He slides the entryway writing table against it just in case bad moves to the kitchen to secure the door there. It will be nice to sleep with only one eye open tonight, since there’s a stranger here.

******

Wrinkled clothing means nothing anymore. Not if it’s clean, and the carefully stored and arranged things arranged in the master bedroom upstairs are all familiar choices to pick through. Jeans, t-shirts, plaid flannels alongside deeper options that have no place in the world as it is now. Though something tells you that Joel might have appreciated that little black dress twenty years ago. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. Very unnecessary, wishful thinking.

With the house secure, Joel has already started cleaning up a spot for dinner. There’s no gas, but the fireplace looks decent and the idea of a hot meal after a shower sounds downright decadent, making him start the small fire and bring in a clean pot and an assortment of cans and jars into the living room to open and dump into a stew.

“Did you find the lentils?” Seeing that Joel already has things underway when you come downstairs gives you a truly unlooked for feeling of home. You can’t let yourself get attached to it, but it’s a nice thought to have.

“I did.” He nods and jerks his head back towards the kitchen. “Wanna grab the spices?” He asks as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’ll go clean up too, just– use whatever you want.”

“I hope they still have flavor.” You nod though, ready to dump in an entire shaker of cumin or cayenne just for a little bit of warmth or spice. Whatever it takes. “The shower in the master bedroom works. There’s good soap, too. Stuff we can split.”

Joel nods but he doesn't say anything, just strides past you and heads towards the stairs. He still has his gun on him, but that's just smart. Just because you didn't seem like you had ill intentions didn't mean it was a good idea to act like there wasn't danger around.

He’s gone maybe twenty minutes - a luxurious amount of time in this efficient world - and you’re sitting by the fire rifling through the nearest bookshelf while dinner bubbles away. When was the last time you were around this many books all at once? College for sure. Before the Outbreak. Before paper of any kind was for wiping shit and building fires.

The jeans he finds are a little big, but he doesn't give a shit. They are clean. Allowing him to wear something fresh and the t-shirt is soft. He even steals new socks and the boots are left off in favor of the ugly ass slippers he had found. He would put the boots back on later, but it was amazing to have them off for a while. "Damn near feel normal." He grunts as he walks back down the stairs and sees you look up from the bookshelf. "Like it's a stormy night and the power's off, right?" He jokes, shooting you a grin.

“Want me to read to you, darling?” Keeping up the joke, you bat your eyelashes and hold up the two books you had in your hands. “We’ve got a shelf full of classics here.”

"Better than flipping a table over an old game of Monopoly." Joel snorts, giving a small shrug as he looks around. "The house is secure and there's plenty of wood to keep a small fire goin'. If you want to bunk down here, stay warmer."

“Might be nice,” you admit, looking around the picturesque little house. The place was well loved and miraculously escaped being looted since whoever the owners were had died. “I’ll pull bedding out of one of the other bedrooms. You can take the master if you want it.” Falling asleep with a book in front of the fireplace might be the most luxurious idea you’ve heard in a decade and you love it.

Joel snorts and shakes his head. "Nah. I'll pull down a mattress for you and take the couch." It looks like it might only give him a few springs in his ass. He doesn't know why but the idea of you sleeping downstairs while he's upstairs bothers him but it does.

“A veritable sleepover.” You offer him a half smile, unsure why you feel so damn comfortable around a man who barely smiles and certainly doesn’t seem friendly. Probably just the fact that he’s sexy. You have to be honest with yourself. “Dinner’s going to take a while. Nothing to do but read or shoot the shit.”

Joel chuckles and looks around. "You didn't find any alcohol around here, did ya?" He asks. "Seems like either one of those is better with something to drink." He's not a man who likes to sit around and shoot the shit, but there's nothing else to do and he's not going to stay awake if you start reading to him.

“Bottom of the other bookshelf is false.” On the other side of the room, a large bookcase stands next to a window with a writing desk nearby. “I don’t know anything about scotch, but it’s supposed to get better with age, right?”

"I don't think it's gonna hurt. It's still liquor that we can't ever get again." Joel nearly drools when he sees the bottle. "Yeah, that's– that's gonna be good." He looks towards you. "You want a glass?"

“Sure. Why not?” It just adds to the domesticity of the random encounter, like two complete strangers playing fucking house in the apocalypse. You get up from where you were kneeling and nod toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab glasses.”

He hadn’t expected you to get them, but he lets you go into the other room. “Not a bad setup.” Joel hums to himself as he looks around the room. It will be nice to have an evening where he’s not completely on edge, although he drifts over to the windows, happy that the heavy curtains will block the scant light of the fireplace once the sun finishes going down.

“It’s a shame it was abandoned.” When you come back into the room with two glasses, he’s looking out the window and the setting sun that outlines his profile makes him look downright romantic. “They had real sipping glasses in the cupboard but that felt too fussy,” you tell him, offering him the set of heavy-bottomed double old fashioned glasses that you picked up instead.

“Too bad there’s no ice.” Joel smirks as he takes the glasses over to the bookcase where the bottle is to pour the scotch out for both of you.

“Ice.” You groan, almost a sound of ecstasy as you curl up on one corner of the couch. “I would do some extremely questionable things to have ice cold lemonade again.”

That actually makes Joel toss his head back and laugh. A deep, surprising belly laugh that seems to roll from a sense of humor he had long since buried in bitterness and sarcasm. “Lemonade, huh?” He asks, bringing the glass over to you and sitting down in an armchair beside it. “Just lemonade? No sweet tea or iced coffee?”

“Lemonade.” You tell him definitely, accepting the glass that he hands you as he sits. “FEDRA dickheads have coffee and tea. It’s shitty quality but it’s there. You can still get close to tea and coffee if you have access. But when was the last time you saw a damn lemon?”

“Uh….two days ago?” Joel asks, raising a brow as he takes a sip of his scotch and wincing at the burn. “Yeah, two days ago.”

"Where?" The demand pulls an absolute pout from you, eyebrows knitted together in dismay. You've had sexier dreams about lemonade than some of the men you used to date.

He snorts, enjoying the put out expression on your face. “Near Boston. Little….farm I know about.” He would never give away Bill and Frank’s location but they have a lemon tree in their backyard.

"Shit." The sour expression on your face seems to amuse him, and for some reason you deepen your pout just to see if it will make him laugh. When he laughed for real a few minutes ago it was such a gorgeous sound. "Well...cross your fingers for me that they have them out west. Cause we definitely didn't up in Maine."

“Too cold up there.” Joel reminds you. “Shit, it’s too cold in Boston.” He takes another sip, “is that where you’re headed, out west?” He asks, curious as to why you are by yourself.

"Yeah." You nod, pausing for a second to take a sip of the amber coloured liquid in your glass but being careful not to gulp too much and end up coughing like an amateur. Joel seems barely phased, but it's been so long since you had alcohol that you know you'll end up looking like a college freshman at a frat party if you go too hard. "It was time to leave. So that's where I'm going to go. Nothing like a little cross-country hike, right?"

“By yourself?” He asks, shocked that you would do that yourself. It doesn’t look like you’re terribly well equipped and it was dangerous. “That’s a hell of a journey alone.”

"I don't have a choice, really." Shrugging your shoulders, you take another sip of your drink and enjoy the burn, deciding that it's a damn shame you'll probably never have Scotch again in your life after tonight. "A couple of years ago I was going to leave campus and go down to Pennsylvania with some people but..." you shrug again and look down into your glass. "One of them got sick. She couldn't travel. So we stayed put. But now they're all dead, so I'm just...me."

"Pennsylvania?" Joel frowns, hating that it seems like you've lost everyone but that is life now. It's full of loss and very little joy. "What was in Pennsylvania?" He leans back in his chair and looks over at you in the firelight, curled up and comfortable. Like you are discussing heartbreak and loss.

"Nothing, really. Not anymore." The fire crackles beside you, wood popping occasionally and making the room smell cozy and inviting. Like it's an intimate dinner instead of an accidental encounter. "My family used to vacation down there when I was growing up. This town called Lake City. It's a little colony now...like a commune, I heard. Some kind of little paradise at the end of the world, ya know? I doubt it's actually like that, but dreams are hard to come by these days."

"Dreams are hard to come by." Joel murmurs, thinking about Tommy disappearing out west, chasing a dream of freedom, a life beyond FEDRA. He rocks his jaw and glances down at his watch, remembering Sarah and her silly, funny dreams for the future. A future that no longer exists. Maybe it never existed. "Sometimes, dreams are all we have though." He admits, downing the rest of his drink quickly and reaching for the bottle he had put on the coffee table.

"Am I going to get a gun pointed at me if I ask what you dream about?" The side arm isn't in sight but you doubt he left it upstairs. You certainly didn't store yours away - it's right on the coffee table beside you.

"I dream of the past." Joel murmurs quietly after a long moment, contemplating not answering you at all. He won't talk about the past, doesn't like to think about it but he dreams about it. "Anyway, Lake City, huh?" He asks, taking another swallow of the fiery liquid and welcoming the burn. "Still a long way from there."

"Yeah." Swallowing the last sip of liquid in your glass, you hold it out to him in a request for more. "I don't know that I'll go there, but even if I do it won't be for long. West is the goal."

Joel leans forward, holding out the bottle and pouring more into your glass. "You're gonna need a car, and supplies." He warns you. "And more fucking people."

"I'll manage." He's not exactly offering help, just advice, but you nod anyway. "Aren't you going to need shit to get wherever you're going, too? It's not like either of us has back up."

"I'm not going anywhere." Joel tells you. "Scavenging." He's not going to tell you that he's meeting his supplier for contraband. It would be too risky to do something as foolish as that. "Planning to head back to Boston in about a week."

"Boston." Every sip of alcohol goes down smoother than the last and you smile absentmindedly. "I went to a Red Sox game once. So much fucking fun."

"Field's nothing but a huge fungal growth." Joel tells you, frowning as he remembers that kid that Tess had brought with them to go on a run. He had stepped wrong and awoken a dozen infected. It hadn't been pretty. "Fuckin' shame."

"Shit." That earns a shake of your head, though you don't know why you're surprised to hear it. "Lemonade and baseball. I guess I know what I miss."

"Went to a few baseball games back in the day." Joel chuckles. "I get it. Nothing was like a hot dog with everything goddamn thing on it and an icy cold beer."

"Getting a ton of friends together, screaming shit at the field that the players will never hear in a million years but it just makes you feel like part of the game." You laugh, shaking your head and feeling the scotch actually start to hit you for the first time. It's been a long time since you had booze meant to do anything but numb pain. "My cousins all played. Used to draw out a makeshift diamond in the backyard of the rental house in Lake City."

"I played too." Joel admits after a moment, shrugging when your eyes widen slightly. "What the fuck else is there to do in Texas during the summer except baseball and swimming?"

"Texas!" One finger goes up like a symbol of epic success and you laugh, feeling much looser and freer thanks to the drink. "I knew I heard an accent."

"Yeah, yeah, the damn accent." Joel grumbles, although he's smirking at your overly excited face. "Never knew it would be so damn telling at the end of the world."

"It's sexy," you admit, and the words are out of your mouth before you can rethink how wise it is to say them at all.

"Sexy?" That was a word that hasn't been used to describe him in a long time. "Well, I'll keep that in mind, honey.” Joel teases, sending you a small wink.

"Just...ya know...being honest." Though you do sink down into the couch cushion a little more deeply and hold your glass in front of your face. The fucking wink was sexy, too.

“Well, then I guess I should be honest too.” Joel tells you, watching you sink into the sofa a little more. “I looked at you longer than I needed to when you stripped down. Because you’re ‘sexy’.”

"Oh yeah?" There's a smirk in your voice as you lower your glass again, almost putting it down on the table before you decide to finish off the last sip first. "So that was a little bit of a chub you were sporting, huh? I thought I was just imagining it."

“Still alive, ain’t I, honey?” Joel snorts, sending you a smirk with a small shrug. “Can’t exactly help it. But it’s a compliment.”

"Then I'll take it as such." And lock yourself in the bathroom later to get off to thinking about his dick, probably. Since he insists on sleeping in the living room you'll have to make your own privacy.

Joel taps his hand on his thigh before he stands. “I should get the mattress down the stairs if you’re wanting to be cozy.” It would give him a moment to clear his head, the thought of bending you over that sofa very appealing.

"I'll get bowls." You practically jolt up from the couch, nerves and liquid courage both at work in your veins. "Food's probably ready by now."

Joel nods and starts for the stairs again. Making his way to the bedroom with the queen sized bed and pulling the mattress off of it. Sure the two of you could sleep in beds, but it would get cold tonight and it would be warmer near the fire.

This stew that he threw together smells amazing when you take the lid off the pot in the kitchen. You scoop some into two large bowls and dig for spoons in the drawer before also coming away with glasses of water. Food and water are good. They'll keep you from climbing into Joel's lap and making an idiot out of yourself.

With some mild cursing a little bit of muscle, Joel gets the mattress down the stairs. “Move the table, honey.” He grunts, moving the mattress into the living room so he can put it down in front of the fireplace, far enough back that it would catch on fire if an ember popped out.

Scrambling to do what he asks quickly, the bowls and glasses are put down on the coffee table so you can slide it out of the way and Joel gets the mattress down onto the floor a lot more easily than he got it down the stairs. "There." You nod when it's done and toss a pillow onto the mattress from the couch. "Comfy and cozy."

He snorts and shakes his head. “Guess we can get your blankets and shit after we eat.” He acknowledges. “Thought you might want to be warm and comfortable tonight.”

"Sexy and considerate." You offer him a smile and look back down at the mattress, wanting to point out that it's definitely big enough for two but also not wanting to ruin the light tone that the night has taken on. "Thank you, sweetie," you tease instead.

He snorts and nods. “Let’s eat, it’s been a few days since I’ve had a hot meal and it smells delicious.” He wants to make you smile again, tease you more but he also knows you have to be hungry.

His chair is boxed away by the mattress being on the floor so Joel sits down next to you on the sofa to take his bowl. The proximity of him makes your body hum but you force it down, telling yourself to ignore it. It's just that it's been a decade since you got laid, so of course you're hyper aware of the sexy Texan who admitted to finding you attractive. That's all.

The clinks of the spoons on the sides of the bowls and the sounds of eating accompany the crackling of the fire. Making Joel hum when the spice tickles the back of his throat. “So, you were in Maine the entire time? Or-“ He never starts conversations but he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. He looks over at you as he digs through the bowl for another tasty bite.

“Yeah…” Slightly surprised that he’s picking the conversation back up but happy to enjoy whatever companionship he’s willing to dole out, you nod a little and take a sip of water. “I was in college when the outbreak hit. Renting a big house off campus with a few friends, taking off jobs to pay the bills and partying every night we weren’t working.” It sounds silly now, or maybe you think that because you miss it so desperately, you can’t tell. “We stayed in that same house. Locked it down, defended it. Basically the whole neighborhood was ours but we never went far.”

“Ahhh those days.” Joel assumed you were younger than him and he was right. He nods and spoons up another bite. “How did you manage to survive? Someone taking farming classes?”

“One of us was in agriculture. Another was pre-med. Third girl was engineering and she’d grown up with an electrician for a mom.” The sigh you let out borders on long-suffering. “We used to joke…before it happened…that we were the perfect apocalypse crew. Cursed that for ourselves, didn’t we?”

“The irony of that joke.” Joel shakes his head, not mentioning all the times people he had known cycling through their ‘what I would do if’ scenarios. All of them were dead as far as he knows. “At least they were skills that were useful. Do you know the going rate is for a seamstress that’s worth a shit?”

“Portland QZ fell years ago,” you tell him with a half-shrug, scooping up another spoonful of your stew. “And we never had much contact with any of them anyway. I don’t know that much about how they work, if I’m honest.”

“Lots of control.” Joel grunts. “The biometric scanner is the lone determination for life or death. If you don’t pass….” He trails off and takes another bite. “Let’s just say that most of the bodies we dispose of aren’t coming from inside the walls.”

“Sounds fun.” Another mouthful of stew sounds better than talking about the end of the world or mass murder, and you chew slowly before glancing back at him. It doesn’t mean anything that he looks sad - everyone left in the world is sad - but there’s a knot in your stomach that wishes you could make him laugh again.

“Real riot.” Joel mumbles, poking at the stew and sighing. “Anyway- so how did your crew get sick? It wasn’t the fungus was it?”

“All but one.” You end up nodding again, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. Like the people you love most in the world weren’t ripped from you. “Zoe died first. Probably cancer, but it’s not like that’s easily diagnosable anymore. The rest…they were scavenging for firewood, nuts, berries, all that stuff. One wrong step and you wake up a dozen clickers. Priya came back with a chunk taken out of her shoulder, but Nadia and Claire…they didn’t make it out of the woods.”

“Sorry.” Joel murmurs softly. It wasn’t like there was much he could say to that. Everyone’s lost someone. Most have lost everyone and you fall in that category. “Fucking shit is what it is.” He sighs softly, glancing down at his watch and remembering his own loss.

“We all lost someone.” The impulse is there. To ask. To get to know him better. To have a genuine human connection with this man even just for a little while. But with so much sadness literally everywhere you look, you have to wonder at the fact that you’ve actually laughed with Joel and enjoyed his company. That there has been some small amount of light in the pervasive darkness of life around you. “I was very lucky to spend the time with them that we had.” Is what you say instead, offering him a soft smile. “Just like whoever gave you that watch was lucky to have you.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes went to the broken timepiece - so lovingly cared for and dedicatedly worn despite being obviously broken.

Instead of opening up, Joel sets the bowl down on the small table and gets up, deflecting. “Need to add more wood to the fire.” He excuses, unwilling to get into why she hadn’t been lucky. How he had failed her. He is well aware of the way you are watching him, can feel your eyes on his back as he crouches down and feeds a couple of pieces of nearly crumbling wood into the fire and poking it around.

“Thank you for cooking.” He has essentially done all the work himself - securing the house, setting up the fire, putting supper on to cook - and you wonder how much of it is because he doesn’t trust other people to do things right or if he’s used to taking care of people. Used to being in charge. Or maybe both. “A-and…for being nice enough to let me babble. You’re the first person I’ve talked to besides myself in weeks.”

“Tired of being the smartest one in the conversation?” Joel asks, chuckling slightly. “I get it. But you don’t have to thank me. You didn’t shoot my ass when I stumbled on your spot.”

“I appreciate you not shooting me to take the place for yourself.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling your spin around in your hand. “Plenty of others would have. The Outbreak brought out the best and the worst in people in all the most ridiculous ways. Mostly the worst.”

That was true, but Joel just nods and acknowledges that before he turns back towards you. Moving back to the sofa to finish his dinner. "There is something to be said for the evils of men."

"And the good in them." For as terrible as the world has gotten, you've refused to give up on humanity. Until very recently you had spent the End of the World with your very best friends - extraordinary women who made you believe that there could actually be a light at the end of the tunnel. "The good that men do shines brighter in the dark."

"Some shine brighter than others." Joel murmurs quietly, aware that his own light is very dim.

“And some are brighter than they know.” There is a certainty in the pit of your stomach about Joel - and it isn’t just the scotch talking, either. He’s special. You really don’t know how, or if he’s just becoming special to you, but there’s something there that tells you that you won’t forget the particular shade of deep brown of his eyes or the one lone dimple you saw displayed when he actually, truly laughed.

Joel takes another few bites of his meal before he scrapes the bowl clean and sets it down with a sigh. "Now I have to say that was the best fuckin' thing I've eaten in a long time." He groans, looking over at you. "Good to you?"

“The closest I’ve gotten to gourmet in decades.” Your bowl stacks in his, scraped clean with your own spoon. He clearly doesn’t want to talk so you just sit back and watch the fire quietly, unsure of what to do or say and desperately reminding yourself that this is not a fucking date.

"We should get your bed made up." Joel murmurs after a moment, aware that after his stomach is full, he likes to pass out. It'll just get darker and it's better to have it ready. "You can lay by the fire and read like you wanted to."

“What are you going to do?” Probably twenty years ago he would have fallen asleep with a bad movie on the television, but that time has long since passed.

"I could listen to you turning the pages, the fire crackling." He muses, smirking at the very domestic idea. "Saw a couple of candles upstairs too. Those big three wick things. Maybe we light a couple for my old eyes and I can read too."

It sounds romantic. Soft. Things he would probably hate to be called. “Sounds relaxing.” You decide on, lifting yourself off the couch to go upstairs and retrieve the bedding. “Can’t remember the last time I was relaxed.”

"Long fuckin' time ago for me." Joel snorts, shaking his head and standing up to follow you. "I think we deserve a relaxin' night, right?"

"Why not?" The two of you head upstairs, deciding to grab every blanket and pillow in sight and distribute them between you when you get downstairs. The candles he mentioned have various autumnal scents that will all more-or-less compliment each other if the scents are still noticeable after twenty years of sitting in a drawer. It will be a nice night, even without the romance that has no place in the world as it exists now.

Once the candles are lit, Joel looks around. Seeing the glow of the light, he gets up to check the curtains, wanting to be sure that no light is escaping out into the night and creating a beacon for anyone living outside. While both doors are secure and blocked, he would prefer to have a night of no late night surprises.

"We good?" His diligence gives you the freedom to peruse the bookshelf again. There was a copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover up there that you intend to read very discreetly.

“Should be. Want to sleep through the night for once.” Joel snorts, aware that it’s rare now, but he likes the idea of it here.

"I'll let you get in here." Moving away from the bookshelf, you toss your choice on the mattress and hope that even if he does glance over, that the plain fabric cover doesn't interest him enough to ask questions.

Joel snorts and walks over to the books. “Anything good?” He asks, lifting a brow. “A good romance in there?”

"I wouldn't have taken you for a love story kind of guy." It's just a tease, but it deflects from the fact that you did, in fact, zero in a romance novel immediately. "There's plenty, if that's what you want. Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility, The Great Gatsby..."

“Oh fuck that.” Joel rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Hated readin’ that shit in high school and I ain’t readin’ it now.” He grumbles. “They don’t have any of the good romance books? The ones with the large, throbbing members pulsing against her core? Or whatever shit they write to make it word porn?”

You snort, surprised to hear that that is what he's looking for - although you can't really blame him. It's not like anybody had porn to watch in the last twenty years. "Um..." Clearing your throat makes your ears burn, but you point down at the mattress where your choice of novel landed. "There's one like that."

“Damn, taken.” He huffs, fully aware that it had been what you had taken from the shelf. He had a feeling. “You could always read it aloud.” He suggests, smirking slightly.

"Now you go for that suggestion?" The look on his face has you burning with embarrassment, and you rub the back of your neck in an unconscious gesture of amusement. "I'm gonna need more scotch if you want me to read porn out loud." High-class porn, but porn nonetheless.

“We could read it or we could make it.” Joel suggests, enjoying the way that you are positively burning with embarrassment. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock and he smirks again, barely resisting the urge to make a dirty joke.

"Are you serious?" That's a damn sight further than you thought he would have gone, and when you finally pick your jaw up off the ground you look at him with one raised eyebrow.

“If you aren’t interested, say the word and it won’t be brought up again.” He tells you seriously. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but laying you out on the mattress in front of the fire sounds a hell of a lot better than reading anything.

"The booze wasn't what made me want to flirt with you." You admit, though you really didn't see this coming at all.

“Flirting’s a hell of a lot different from laying out on that bed wearing me for a blanket.” Joel huffs.

"You do this a lot with people you've just met out in the wild?" Of course he could lie, but so could you. For all he knows, you're a prostitute playing the virgin. The fact that you're neither of those things is beside the point.

“Can’t say that I’ve trusted anyone enough.” Joel admits, raising his brows at the obvious statement. “Don’t know why I trust you, maybe it’s because I’ve seen you naked.”

"You already know I don't have any weird rashes and or an alien head growing out of my shoulder." The ridiculousness of it makes you shake your head and huff a laugh. "It'd be a shame to waste the atmosphere. Fireplace, candles, little nest of blankets and pillows. It's the kind of thing somebody would have done on purpose back in the day."

“Kinda romantic.” Joel chuckles. “And I’ve got that throbbing member books always talk about.”

You snort, not expecting him to dive into dirty jokes, and step forward carefully. What throbbing you've got is a hell of a lot more discreet but just as insistent. "Yes...you definitely do."

It’s probably the ‘funniest’ Joel’s been in years, but you don’t seem to mind. Edging closer to him and he closes the gap slightly. “I’ll pull out.” He promises, knowing that no birth control lasts twenty years, even if you had one of those things inside you when Outbreak happened.

“I should certainly fucking hope so.” This isn’t the kind of world you want to bring a baby into, even if other people are. The need for sex is an instinct, one people give into every day. And a fucking fun instinct, which is why people still do it despite the danger.

Joel watches you for a moment before he reaches up and slowly starts to peel the t-shirt off. Watching you to make sure you don’t object before he tosses it down.

Watching him undress himself a few hours ago was perfunctory. It was careful and you were concentrating on the potential for danger instead of anticipating pleasure. “Let me.” If you’re going to do this, you’re not going to make the man undress himself.

He arches a brow, but he doesn’t stop you from coming closer. His own fingers itching to remove your clothes and get a closer look at your body. To touch you.

There’s nothing complicated about what he’s wearing. It’s not like anyone is walking around in elaborate suits anymore. The belt he has on must be his own because it’s seen far better days, but you slip your fingers into it and look up to find him watching you. The darkness in his eyes isn’t cold or hard, but curiosity and lust. It’s deep enough that you get lost in it entirely by accident, and without realizing it you’ve moved in close enough to tip your head back and kiss him while you pull his belt apart.

His own hands get greedy, pulling your shirt up and chuckling when you whine as he has to pull you away from undressing him to get it over your head. Your bra is worn, nearly to pieces but he’s careful as he unhooks it.

It’s really like someone set off an alarm that let both of you free. The way a tentative kiss turns hungry and you know you’ll have beard burn on every part of your body he drags his lips across. The calluses on his hands feel gorgeous on your sides, or maybe it's just that someone is actually touching you. No matter the reason, your entire body is on fire already.

Joel groans at the sight of your breasts, now fully able to touch and he doesn’t hesitate to fill his hands with you. Squeezing them and massaging them in his hands, feeling the tip hard against his palms.

All you can think right now is how fucking grateful you are that this house still had a usable shower. Because of that you have no problem leaning in to his touch or letting him study you now that he has his hands on you. Having sensitive tits was always a blessing when you were spending time with boys who hadn’t yet mastered foreplay - who knows if it will matter or not now, but it means every touch is going straight to your pussy.

He loves the way you moan, each squeeze eliciting another sound from you that makes his cock twitch as you unbutton his jeans. “Fuck.” He groans, watching as you bite your bottom lip, revealing the boxers he had swiped.

It’s better because you know what’s waiting for you underneath the last layer of soft cotton, and you gently scrape your nails along his skin as you pull the boxers down along with his jeans. You drop to your knees along with the clothing, knowing that he may not let you stay there but you at least want the smallest taste of the precum beading at the head of his cock.

“Shit!” Joel gasps when he feels your lips against his cock, not expecting that at all. Especially for this being a random, one night encounter. His hand immediately cradles your jaw and he pants. “You don’t- I don’t expect-“

“I want to.” You hold his eyes when you pull back, one hand wrapped around his base to feel the way he pulses in your hand as he hardens. “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw a cock worth sucking?”

It's on the tip of his tongue to remind you that you said you hadn’t been around anyone but all he can do is moan. “I- let me- we can do it- together.” He grunts out, not willing to just let you be the only one giving pleasure.

That’s as unexpected a suggestion to you as you offering a blow job was to him, but you pump his full length twice in your fist and pull away to shove your pants off. “Lay down.”

Joel is quick to lay down on the blankets and sheets you’ve piled up on the mattress. Watching eagerly as you finish stripping down. “Hurry up.” He urges.

“So impatient.” Not like you really disagree. Tossing your pants and stolen panties aside and kicking off the slippers you had found in the closet, you smirk to find Joel eyeing your pussy like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Comfortable?” There’s no way you’re going to sit on his face unless he’s in a comfortable position.

“Perfect.” Joel pats his chest and smirks at you. “Have a fucking seat.” He orders, enjoying the small shiver that seems to run through your body. He’s not been this carefree in awhile and he’s liking it. Just enjoying the moment and getting to touch a beautiful woman.

The shiver just keeps on going as you lower yourself over him. Feeling his hot breath on your legs is completely foreign and completely tantalizing, and you shut your eyes just for a second when you hear him inhale and groan. "Tap twice if I start suffocating you," you joke, bending forward to get your mouth around his thick cock again.

The retort in his lips dies swiftly when the heat of your mouth surrounds his cock again. Hands cupping your ass to drag you back to his tongue. Licking into you with the same eagerness that you are taking his cock down your throat.

Even the first touch is enough to make you moan, legs shaking with the intensity of a pleasure you had all but forgotten and your own vocal response making you double down on how ravenously you’re swallowing his rapidly hardening cock. The weight of him against your tongue is gorgeous, all those throbbing veins making you feel like you’ve stepped into some pre-outbreak pornographic fantasy. And even more so when you move the hand applying gentle pressure to the base of his length down to roll his heavy balls between your fingers to give them some stimulation as well.

Joel moans into your folds. Completely obsessed with the way that you are so enthusiastic about sucking his cock while still pushing your hips back for the slide of his tongue. He’s methodical, tasting you with firm swipes before delving into the quivering hole that is begging for a deeper taste.

The best cherry on the best sundae you could ever ask for is the way he tongue fucks you more determinedly when you swallow around his shaft. He’s too big to deep throat and you’re obviously out of practice anyway, but that doesn’t stop you from taking as much of him as you possibly can and letting your moans vibrate with every bob of your head.

There’s something to be said for feeling a hand that isn’t his own around the base of his shaft. He groans, loving how you use your hand in tandem with that mouth to make sure every inch of him is covered in you. “Fuck.” His muffled curse is poured into you before he pulls his tongue out to slide to fingers in that hole up to the knuckle, shuffling his chin down so he can latch onto your clit.

The squeak you let out is muffled by the cock that’s halfway down your throat, but your hips grind themselves down on Joel’s fingers eagerly. You genuinely can’t remember the last time you had anything inside you but your own fingers and his are so much thicker and the angle makes them feel so much longer. The pressure on your clit makes you sob in pleasure, the coil in your belly that has been building so quickly threatening to snap all at once under his attention.

It’s a glorious cascade effect. Every moan you make vibrates around him and makes him respond with sounds and moans of his own. Both of you filling the room with desperate, needy sounds as you work the other closer to that blinding pleasure. It’s just a matter of who will get there first.

It’s too much, but in the very best way, when Joel crooks his fingers Nearly against your g-spot like that and you wail. Tears streaming down your cheeks, spit escaping the corners of your mouth, legs shaking, pussy clenching down on his fingers like your life depends on it, your orgasm hits you all at once but you never take your mouth off of him for a second.

Joel throbs as you come apart for him. The sounds of his moan adding to the stimulation of your clit with his tongue. Fingers still buried deep in your cunt as it flutters around them, making him feel like a fucking god as you shake over his head, your thighs pressing against his cheeks.

Even though it's reluctant, you have to pull off him just momentarily. It's too hard to catch your breath with a dick down your throat, but the second you gasp for air it's his name on your lips instead of unintelligible moans of pleasure. "Fuck Joel. Oh my god."

He smirks, his tongue flicking over your clit one last time before he pulls away with a very smug chuckle. “Break your dry spell in a good way?” He asks, fingers still curled up inside you although he’s not applying quite as much pressure.

"Oh, you're gonna be smug about it?" Twisting back to look at him, there is a lopsided grin on your face regardless of pretending to be stern about it. "Yeah. Okay. You fuckin deserve to be."

Winking, Joel slaps your ass with his other hand. “Two for two, or do you want the main event?” There’s nothing else to do and he’s never been a selfish lover, so making you cum again would not be a problem.

"I'm not going to turn you down if you're offering." There were men you were in actual relationships with who avoided eating pussy like the plague. If tonight can be full of extended pleasure, you're not going to turn it away. No way in hell.

“Get on your back.” Joel slaps your ass again and pulls his fingers from your drenched walls. As much as he enjoyed your mouth on his cock, he won’t be able to stop himself from cumming a second time. Better to just make you cum again.

That answers the unspoken question of whether or not he wants you to keep going, and you lift yourself off of him with only a little reluctance. As much as you could spend hours like that, you know it's rarely the same for men. And Joel is closer to silver fox than not - he wears it so fucking well - so if he needs to cool down a little before fucking you, that's totally fine. You just take over the place where he was laying a second ago, piling the pillows under your head so you can watch him go down on you again.

This time, Joel gets to see more of you. It makes for a surprisingly tender moment as he slides his hands up your thighs, wiggling down so that he is lined up with your cunt. “Pretty.” He coos, looking at you in the firelight. He knows he doesn’t have to compliment you, but it’s true and it feels like you could use a compliment or two, to save for those lonely days.

Simple and direct. To the point, just like Joel is, and you can't find it in yourself to think that that one word is anything less than perfect. "How do you feel about hair pulling?" If you need to be digging your fingers into the sheets instead of his thick hair, you want to know.

“Why’d ya think I told you to get on your back?” Joel flashes you a very uncharacteristic, wolfish grin before he he diving back into your cunt.

“Shiiit!” You’re halfway laughing when he lowers his head again, but your hand goes right to his thick salt and pepper curls. You don’t know how you got lucky enough to stumble across this man in the wilds, but you’re definitely not going to take it for granted.

He hums, enjoying the first tug of pain as your fingers wind too tight around a few strands of his hair pull against his scalp. He loves the way you don’t hold back.

Apparently, without distraction, Joel is even hungrier with his tongue as deep in you as it will go. The gorgeous, prominent arc of his nose nestled against your clit isn’t something you ever would have thought to add to your fantasy list but it’ll be tucked away in your spank bank for the rest of your fucking life. Hopefully just the way your voice crying his name and choking curses will be for him.

Joel hangs onto your thighs like they are a life preserve. Curling his tongue up and relishing the way that you respond to him. He had expected maybe a halfway decent house to huddle up in overnight and maybe some hard beef jerky but he’s been treated like a king and currently having a fucking four course meal.

He’s methodical, voracious - not gentle or coaxing, but you don’t care about that right now. This isn’t a seduction, it’s the very definition of a one-night stand. There’s no reason to be quiet so you let him hear every gasp and moan, squirming under him and reveling in your amazing fucking luck that he stumbled across your hiding place today.

Joel keeps his tongue moving, his jaw flexing open and shut and his fingers finally join the mix. This time he’s not sinking them into you. No, his hands spread across your hips bones, both thumbs peeling your lips back to he has more access to you.

“Oh holy fuc—” If he’s trying to crawl inside you, you just might let him. “Fuck Joel, oh my god!” The praises tumble over each other but aren’t forced. You’re far too lost in yourself and how fucking good he makes you feel for anything to be a performance.

God, it’s been too long since someone has wailed his name like that. Nothing behind it but pure pleasure and he needs to hear more of it. Burrowing deeper, he attacks your cunt like he is starving and you are the tree of life.

If anyone were still around to walk by the house, they wouldn’t question what’s going on inside for a second. All of Joel’s double checking off curtains and lighting and securing the doors is moot in the face of the pornographic sounds coming from inside but for right now - for just a little while - you seem to have blissfully forgotten the state of the world at large. Your entire reality has hyperfixated on Joel.

Every stroke of his tongue begs you to cum, his eyes fixed on your face and he grunts into you when you pull so hard on his hair that moisture builds up in his eyes. The scene is completely debauched and all he needs is for you to soak his face once more before he fucks you.

The second time comes faster than the first. Maybe because you're primed for it now or maybe because he's learning your signals, but either way it doesn't matter. The way he builds you up to that second peak speaks to years of experience all focused directly on your dripping cunt. His name is on repeat, like your heartbeat falling from your lips, and by the time your legs start to shake you're convinced you might actually see stars.

Joel pulls away, watching your entire body seize with pleasure and he smirks happily. His cock is throbbing and he’s ground himself into the mattress enough that there’s a wet spot on the blanket.

"Fucking hell." When you can take a deep breath again you're shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure and grasping at his shoulders, silently begging him to crawl up your body. As intimate as the thing is, all you want to do right now is kiss him.

Obliging you is not a problem. His lips trail up your body, making small detours from areas that he wants to map. Until he’s finally pressing his lips to yours.

Tasting yourself from a lover's lips has never been an issue for you, and right now you're relishing how messy and fucking filthy this whole encounter has become. With one leg hitched up on his hip and her arms around his shoulders you feel like you could drown in him and it would still be a perfect encounter.

“You are so fucking responsive, honey.” Joel growls into your mouth. His hand slides up to wrap around your shoulder. “But I need to be inside you.”

You're nodding almost faster than you can say the words, just as desperate as he is to know what having him inside you will feel like. "I–fuck, do it, baby."

There’s no reason to rush except for the aching need to be buried inside you. Keeping his lips pressed to yours as he lines up and starts to slowly roll his hips forward to make sure that he’s snuggly pushing into your cunt.

The gasp he pushes out of you is drawn out - luxurious and indulgent and becomes a moan with that small pinch of momentary pain that comes from fitting a baseball bat into even the most flexible straw. When his hips are flush with yours you look down, taking in the sight of your joined bodies for the first time. “So fucking sexy.” You stand by that assessment, especially right now.

His jaw is tight, teeth grinding slightly at how hard he is clenching them together. You’re so fucking tight and hot around him. “Fuck, baby. You’re sexy.” He manages, his hand on your shoulder pulling you closer.

“Need you to move, baby.” If he feels good just staying still, you might cum again after about four thrusts.

“I can do that.” Joel huffs, nearly laughing as he draws his hips back.

“Oh fuck.” The feeling of being entirely empty only lasts for a second before he’s pressing forward again, filling you faster this time and more roughly. It’s perfect.

When it comes to actually fucking, Joel isn’t gentle. He’s not brutal, unless it’s wanted, but his pace and thrusts are rougher than a slow and gentle lovemaking session. He wants to be breathless, numb to everything but the pleasure and he wants his partner to be the same way. He hisses the first few slaps of his hips as he plunges into you.

Your hips rock in time with his, meeting his thrusts eagerly, and you shove the pillows out of the way in every direction to be able to twist and turn in any direction he wants you. The heat from the fireplace isn’t why you’re both starting to sweat and you pull your thighs up a little higher on his waist so he can plunge that much deeper into you with his next thrust. You want every ounce of pleasure he can give you and you’re going to make sure that you feel just as good for him.

“Good, so good.” Joel groans, rocking his hips just a little faster, sweat slicking up his body and making it easier to move over you. He doesn’t care though, turning his head and kissing you before biting your bottom lip.

His arms twine under your back, tugging you close and giving him more leverage to push deep and give both of you something to curse about. You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him complete control and yet not letting him get too far away. It's probably just the sex talking, but there's a connection tugging at you that only seems to shut up with the force of each thrust - so the more, the better.

His dark eyes watch you, humming when you accept the force of each thrust, your body begging for more even if you weren’t breathlessly urging him on. Both of you needing the sharp snap of his hips and the feeling of his cock beating into your body like humanity depends on it.

The closer to your peak that both of you climb, the more ragged and desperate his pace and your voice become. The harsh slap of skin on skin fills the room and dominates it, reverberating back any breathless cry that Joel doesn’t swallow down with a greedy kiss. The aching soreness you’ll be nursing tomorrow will be so worthwhile though, as you hang on to the gorgeous memory of tonight.

“Come on honey, need- fuck, need you to cum for me again.” Joel manages, grunting through every swing of his hips. Desperately close to cumming, but he wants to feel the clutch of your cunt around him before he does. “Come on honey, one more.”

It really isn’t that far away, but your words have left you and all you can do is moan your acknowledgement and slip your hand into the tight space between your bodies to rub your clit - that little bit of extra stimulation that you know will push you directly over the edge.

“That’s it.” Joel hisses, his frantic, unmeasured thrusts ramping up even more. Wanting to hear you scream in pleasure again.

Your back arches, hips practically rising off the mattress in an effort to get the most out of your own fingers as well as his increasingly erratic thrusts. Every time he bears down on you it becomes a little more desperate and that much sexier, until the last remaining thread tethering you to reality snaps entirely and sends you careening over the edge of pleasure with his name on your lips.

When you shatter, it’s like the world stops. Joel can’t even breathe, all he can do is watch as you fall apart in the most glorious fashion you possibly could. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Joel groans, one thrust later he’s pulling free of your body, cumming over your stomach in hot, sticky ropes of his seed.

It leaves you both panting. Chests heaving and bodies shaking, you don't even realize that you've lifted your head to steal a kiss until your lips find his. The messy, drawn-out meeting of tongues is indulgent - like the longest form of punctuation on the end of the sentence that is tonight.

Joel doesn’t hesitate to gather you close again, not caring if his cum is smearing over your and his skin. It’s not like he’s not been covered in worse. Instead, he just relaxes against you and hums happily into your mouth.

“Mmmm.” Embracing the moment for the simple but not insignificant thing it is, you just slip your arm around him and shift over, making sure he has room on the mattress to lie down beside you if or when he wants it. You’re going to sleep like a baby tonight, thoroughly exhausted from a moment of light in a world of darkness.

“Lemme clean you up and then we can sleep.” Joel grunts, moving over to grab a rag that had been set off to the side. Used as a pot holder, it was now perfect to wipe your skin clean.

“Hell of a way to spend a night.” You sigh, opening your eyes again to watch him as he cleans both of you up. Add aftercare to the list of things you weren’t expecting.

Joel chuckles and tosses the rag to the fire, watching it catch and burn. Turning back to you and settling back beside you to open his arm to invite you closer. “Best night in a long goddamn time.”

Coming closer immediately, you settle with your head on his shoulder so you can sleep on his chest. “Might have to think of a creative way to wake you up in the morning.” You have no illusions about the situation. Tomorrow you’ll go your ways and most likely never see each other again. He’ll forget your name. Your face. The sound of your voice. But maybe he’ll remember the way you made him feel, and that will be enough. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

He smirks and curls his arm around your shoulders and hugs you against him. “I was just about to say if you can get him up again tonight, feel free to ride him.”

“Mmmm.” The hum is more indulgent this time. Laced with a dirty giggle. “Better get a nap in, then. So I can wake you up after whatever inspirational dreams I’m sure I’ll have.”

His own chuckle is low, raspy and matches the playfulness of your tone. “Then we better get some sleep, honey.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. One that was just for pleasure.

“Night, Joel.” You murmur, leaving a fist of a kiss on his chest before closing your eyes. “Sweet dreams.” Yours, at least, will be the sweetest they’ve been in years.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swhor3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv For series: @lol-im-done @sezren @kyuupidwrites @spxctorsslxt @mythrielofsolitude @missmarmaladeth @midgetpottermills @spishsstuff @wrathofcats @rickysgrimes @that-friend-in-the-corner @123passwort @taygra5shaon @buckysmainhxe @mariwinns16 @superflymaterial @s1xthirty @gothicxbarbie @pedrettilov3r @flyingmushroomss @littleshadow17 @lovelyygirl8 @hairspeaks @zliteraturehoe @princessgriffin1998 @belahbelieve

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x female reader #The Last of Us #The Last of Us HBO #TLoU

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