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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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The only thing you want to do is... [Price x fem!Reader]

Price broke his hand on the last mission. Fortunately for him, his caretaker is just as adorable as she is eager to help him in every way.

CW and tags: Legal age gap, power imbalance, daddy kink, pervert!Price, obsessive!Price, coercion into sex, handjob (m!receiving)

Word count: 3246

This work on AO3

You’re such a sunshine, it hurts.

John Price never considered himself to be a good man. He did what he had to do to protect his country, to ensure that big bad terrorists are kept at bay, and foreign militaries are ending up where they belong – somewhere in the ditch, with reports stating KIA an anonymous bullet drugged out of their skulls.

His job was just that – a job, something that had to be done because he knew that someone else, someone worse, would gladly take his place in case of retirement. The captain can be considered a fucking angel compared to some people he is working with – no one would ever dare call him evil when people like Graves still exist out there, hunting for innocents.

But you’re so fucking sweet to him, he simply can’t handle it.

When his arm got injured, and he was forced to get on leave for at least a month – he tried to argue for something less, but Lasswell silently pointed out that he hadn’t had a break in the past five years, and she would kick him out of his own Task Force if he’d continue to refuse – he got assigned a caretaker by Kate recommendation.

John was fully expecting some old lady, probably a retired officer or field medic. Maybe some burly man with too much time on his hands and the ability to give really nice massages under flights of bullets. Perhaps, worst case scenario, he would be assigned an actual; nurse that wouldn’t buy any of his shit – that amount of whiskey he drinks is prescribed by his therapist, smoking cigars in the apartment is a nice form of relaxation, and he actually doesn’t need help and can go in service back again less than in two weeks.

But, the Captain got wee ol’ you, all nice and warm, and adorable, and too fucking young to have anything to do with his apartment.

You’re nice, warm, fresh out of college, where you got some recommendations about rehabilitating veterans back into normal lives. Probably was writing a Thesis about something as dumb as “Healing PTSD through flower crowns and little touches”. You chirp your way into his heart and refuse to go out – just like Kate promised to him, you really didn’t allow him to do anything on his own.

God, it was infuriating – how much he wanted to simply grab your shoulders and kiss you. Or kick you out and find someone else to take care of him, someone boring, someone of appropriate age. Without dumb, bright eyes and cute smiles, without enthusiasm, that can only be seen in unpaid interns and college graduates who still believe that the world is fair and nice.

You cook his dinners and clean up his apartment – as small as it is, never having a family or any other reason to make it even slightly bigger – and you do this with such a wide smile on your face it actually makes Price question basically everything he knows about young ladies doing charity work. You must be paid triple because you fold his underwear in neat little cubes and refuse to accept his help. Always chirped something about his hand like he can’t kill a man with his teeth only.

— I can fold my own pants, love.

He presses his body against the doorframe of the small bathroom – looks at your ass so shamelessly bent over the washing machine. You’re folding his dried clothes, and he can only pray that you aren’t slowly resenting him for being such a disgusting old man. He knew he looked good for his age, 37 years in this world molded him into something that many young women would consider hot – even though his beard is unkept and his hair grew a bit longer since he couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it, and his dominant hand is broken.

— We don’t want to sprain your hand even more, right? — Everythin’ is alright with my bloody hand…

— Lady Lasswell said I shouldn’t listen to you like this, sir. Sorry.

— Little minx.

— Me or Lady Lasswell?

John looks at you, so eager and cheerful, and he just wants to…he can’t, of course, he stops himself before he even forms the thought because it’s dirty and you don’t deserve this, and your shy smile as you laugh softly and push the last of the laundry in the neat pile on the washing machine.

You look too eager to please, and he has an idea – the one he will never act upon. Maybe will entertain himself later, stroking himself in some abandoned base deep in the snowy tundra, trying to remember your warmth as if a sinner like him can even comprehend your light.

God, you got him so bad, he starts thinking about good ol’ Jesus again. You really are a side to behold, aren’t ya.

He looks at you again – you’re so easy to please. You cook for him, the smell of home cooking that he almost forgot, all the ingredients you invited yourself to buy when he left his card for you. You didn’t think it was weird, not a single mischievous bone in your body – if anything, he was casually prompting you to go and buy yourself something nice, something as compensation for all the trouble you endured for him.

Instead, you went out of your way to cook for him, to make him tea like he wanted it – without sugar, but with a small amount of milk poured into a cup that is probably the most expensive thing in this whole place except for his weapons.

The problem is – John Price doesn’t really like it when people are taking care of him. Not because he is shy or insecure, god forbid, but because he knows that if a pretty young thing like you is going to show him kindness, he will take a fucking mile and make you run from him as fast as you can. He has desires, he has needs, something that pretty good girls like you should know nothing about.

You’re so eager to please that you’ll probably jerk him off if he were to whine about his arm being broken and his inability to get himself off because of it. Which, in turn, gives him an…idea.

Price was never a good person – he isn’t the worst guy either. He sees your reactions, that adorable heat of your face when he brushes his knuckles over your cheek in an affectionate manner. How you are biting your lips every time you have to fold his underwear, when you cook for him, and he presses his body against yours, rocking his hips just gently enough to not make his arousal obvious. John knows you like him in more ways than just one – he doubts that such a lovegirl like you would ever agree to take care of a grumpy military man like him.

He wonders where your father is – probably out of the picture if his precious daughter is almost crying from a desire to please a guy like him. He wonders if you have a boyfriend or if you’re seeing someone else – if you’re a virgin or you already had a series of disappointing sessions with blokes that have no idea how to behave with an angel like you.

Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be taking care of a SAS captain – did your superiors forget to tell you just how girl-hungry men like him are? That he didn’t even bother to find a wife, and the loneliness of a single life will make him fucking explode if a girl as pretty as you were in the vicinity of that perverted old dog. You must be stupid – or so insanely naive, it’s not even funny.

He licks his lips, staring at you again. He is certainly isn’t a good guy – not the worst either, but it’s up for debate. He wants to hold you close and say all of those pretty good things he knows you want to hear. He also wants to push you as close to him as possible and just fuck that pretty girl until you’re begging for him to make you his wife. He’d always laugh at the thought of other military commanders and higher rank soldiers having sugar babies – especially the mercs and their fucking inability to keep a girl who isn’t tied to their paychecks. But now…he might just pay for your adorable pout and eagerness.

Might make a call to that one masked arsehole and ask how the hell he keeps his questionably young wife around without breaking her legs. Visibly, at least.

— Sir? Planet calls for Captain Price.

You giggle when you are waving your hand around him. Shit – looks like he zoned out for a hot minute, leaving you free to stare at his face, the fantom red spreading across his skin as if he is actually embarrassed to be caught like this. He isn’t, of course, he is stronger than some girl trying to get a rise out of him. He thinks he is stronger, at least.

You wave your hand in front of his face again, and the insects are kicking in – captain grabs your hand, not even caring that his supposed helplessness stems from the fact his dominant hand is still broken. He has no problems keeping you in place with just his left hand – and you almost look scared when you understand that you literally can’t move.

Your innocent smile turns into a pathetic whimper when he squeezes you even more. Bruises, no doubt, are starting to form already – well, it should be your fault. Good girls are usually smarter than teasing an old dog like him, even if you’re trying to play innocence. He knows what you are.

His future special girl that is. A wife, if he plays his cards right…and the captain was always good at poker.

— Shite, love. Sorry.

His smile mirrors yours – an innocent display like he didn’t almost break your wrist in his hold. He is still squeezing your hand, but not he slowly presses his lips against your knuckles – thin, dry lips gently caressing your skin in a gesture that you should never accept from a guy who kills people as a job. Who saves people, too – but a good guy with a gun is barely an upgrade from a bad one.

He kisses your fingers and finds heaven in the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. You are certainly embarrassed, and this is exactly what he wants – an old pervert trying to get in the pants of a cute girl who just wants to take care of him without any strings attached. He just has to make this whale thing complicated, isn’t he?

— It’s okay, sir. Just thought I lost you for a second.

— Not a chance.

Your smile looks a tad bit mischievous – that is, or he is simply hallucinating from painkillers he is forced to drink every morning because you refuse to let him feel pain even though he is used to it. You are acting like he is a soft doll made out of pink ribbons and soft plushes, not a seasoned soldier with his own thoughts and ideas about what he can do about your desire to please him. He might just use your eagerness – his cock has been pitching for too long without female attention, and he usually doesn’t indulge in shitty one-night stands in some sketchy pubs, but he can make an exception for now. For you.

You smile awkwardly, still trying to get your hand out of his grasp. Little minx, teasing him like he can’t just push you on this exact washing machine and fuck you like a slut you are. Poor girl, you probably don’t even know what kind of thoughts he has in his head – even though your eyes tell him something your lips cannot articulate.

John acts on his instincts, and they usually don’t deceive him.

— If you want to help so badly, I can think of another way.

— Is that so, sir? You’re going to get him in so much shit with Lasswell, he doesn’t even know how he is going to get out of it after fucking her best little protege. Would have to marry you – like it’s not his end goal, like he doesn’t want to make your care for him a tad bit more permanent. He has done so many good things for humanity, why can’t he be a bit selfish and get himself a little something to make this place feel more like home?

He thinks of a pretty thing like you, heavy with his kids, cooking something nice and hearty in his house – not this crappy apartment, of course, he’d buy you something in the countryside, away from terrorists and public squares, with good schools and greenery all around.

You lick your lips and tilt your head to the side. He is daydreaming again.

— If you want to make me relax so badly, love, there is something I need help with…

Beating around the bush like this isn’t in his character – but he knows that you’re a good girl, maybe way too good and proper. He can’t just shove his dick in your hand, it would be too unpolite.

He has to prepare you, it’s a slow sniper mission where he needs to approach you as gently and quietly as possible – he still holds your hand in his, a phantom of his lips tucked away on the softness of your skin.

Then he places his hand on his growing erection – as awkwardly as he can operate with only using his left arm as a helper.

Price might not be the master of espionage, but he also didn’t get his rank for not being able to do cover missions under pressuring circumstances and lie in the faces of people who trust him. Not be the best person, of course, but he gives you a choice. You have all the power now – even with his weapons safely stashed in his bedroom, he knows he won’t ever try to force you. He won’t have to.

— Help your captain, eh?

You’re embarrassed, shy, scared even – your hands are trembling, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with morbid curiosity he never thought he’d find this adorable. You don’t stop and don’t try to fight him – like a little animal, nervous and terrified somewhat, you’re slowly indulging yourself in something that you actually shouldn’t.

He lets go of your hand and allows you to continue on your own – like a good girl, you only nod and slowly duck your palm in his boxers. He’d say that the way he is rock-solid just from looking at your ass and pouting on your face is weak, but he can afford to be a bit pathetic after so many weeks without the ability to jerk off. With your watchful gaze, he just couldn’t find it in his heart – or the only remaining working hand – to do something to help with his raging crush on this adorable social worker who comes to help him.

John is many things – a war hero, war criminal, the captain, and the butcher of many who may deem his actions irredeemable. He made peace with not being the poster good guy and often dirtying his hands just to keep the world clean – and he knows that, in the end, he deserves a pretty young thing to jerk him off while he kisses your hairline and whispers sweet nothing with that beautiful accent of his.

— This is not very… appropriate, sir.

— Bullocks, love. You’re helpin’, that’s why you’re here.

You’re nervous when your hand, squeezing his shaft firmly, goes up and down on his cock. You’re trying to find the rhythm in his quiet grunts and little moans, not having too much experience with pleasuring men who you like this much. It’s fear of disappointing him that makes you go wild, that approving gaze of his every time you press your soft fingers against the head of his cock and squeeze a little.

He is throbbing in your palm, pre-cum leaking on the small of your fingers – naturally, you lick it as slowly as possible, not breaking the eye contact.

Price moans.

— Bloody hell, luv…so good for daddy.

The name makes your ears burn, the desire growing in your stomach – you fight the urge to drop on your knees and take him fully in your mouth. This isn’t what he wants, you think, so you just continue to squeeze him more, making sure he is satisfied with every little movement your hand makes. You lick your lips and continue, feeble attempts at containing the rhythm with shaky fingers.

— I just wanted to help you with your life, not…this.

He chuckles, unharmed hand presses on the small of your back to fix you in place. You lick your lips, understanding that he is not going to let you go this easily – you don’t want to behave like this, of course, it’s against the terms of your contract and your agreement to help him without feelings attached, but he moans so deeply for you, hips are buckling to fuck the firmness of your hand like he is ready to use your moist, prepared pussy.

God, what are you even thinking about?

You don’t know if you should be doing this, but the captain is not letting you go – and you can’t even do anything against his wishes, can you?

— We really shouldn’t be doing this.

— Quiet. I’ll help you out after my hand is healed, eh? — This isn’t what I’m talking about, sir.

— Now, let’s not use that here. I’m sir in the field, not here.

He is manipulating you as hard as he can – he can feel the tension in your eyes and the way you’re squeezing his cock, and he wants nothing more but to simply push you harder, make you fall apart in his hold like a precious porcelain vase. You’re sensitive and shy, just perfect for a bastard like him – his only regret is that the dumb cast on his right hand won’t really allow him to relax to have sex with you properly.

He will pay you back later – on your back, on your knees, on your tummy, moaning his name as he plunges his seed deep into you. It was about time he’d settle down with a pretty wife of his own – he can afford you, certainly.

— I can’t call you daddy, it’s embarrassing…

Your shy words are what send him over the edge. John Price was never a good guy to begin with, but your little pleas are enough to make him cum – and it’s certainly one of the biggest sins he has ever committed. Cute girl like you shouldn’t be so embarrassed about jerking him off, but here you are.

Your hands are covered in cum as he continues to release his seed, only sad because he wasn’t able to breed you properly – that’s the agenda for the time when he finally is freed from this dumb cast. Might just ask Lasswell for extended leave.

— You’ll just have to get used to this, love. Not letting you go after this.

You can only whimper when he kisses you – possessive and tender at the same time. A silent promise of making you his dumb little wife.

#cod #yandere price #price x reader #captain price #john price #captain john price #yandere cod #call of duty #cod imagine #cod fanfic

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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Things We Deserve

Summary: Astarion re-lives one of the traumatic episodes of his life, and considers himself unworthy of love.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, f!tav, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

TW: a mild description of forced prostitution

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @satanicspinosaurus for your help! I live for your commentaries on ethical issues.

It is on the same corner of the street in the Lower City. Again.

A young elf is looking for a “client”. It's not difficult — he has soft white curls, a gentle smile, the body sculptured by some elven god. A glance, two, some nice words — and there is a night of passion ahead.

A half-orc, almost twice as big as the elf, grabs his chin and studies his face as if Astarion is an inanimate object. Then orders to lift up his shirt. The client looks at him with the same expression as if he were buying a horse.

His hand gropes the elf’s crotch, causing him to moan.

"Works for me", the half-orc grabs a handful of silver curls with his stiff fingers. "Never fucked an elf".

Astarion obeys. This is what he is. A mere street whore.

No, go away, you don't need to do that anymore. You are free, don't let him touch you!

Astarion knows what will come next. Two half-orcs, who despise and hate elves to their guts will really enjoy having one for themselves for the whole night.

They’ll give him pain. Disgust. Burning touches.

"Entertain us, elf", the half-orc groans pressing the Astarion’s face into the pillow.

Here’s a joke: the elf wants to die. Sadly, he is already dead. And that's his life now. Forever.

Beatings. Non-consensual sex. Or consensual? Is this what he wants? He never says “no”, after all.

I want you all to burn down, Astarion thinks spreading his legs. I want you to suffer as much as I do!

The half-orcs never give him a chance to drag them to the Cazador’s mansion. They won't die. They won't suffer. They use Astarion and then leave. A small sack of silver breaks when it is thrown on the floor.

And Astarion will have to deal with his sore body and numb mind. Forcing himself to get someone else inside the brothel, knowing too well that he is already doomed for torture because he hasn’t returned on time. Even if he delivers the most innocent and beautiful virgin to Cazador, he will be punished anyway.

Flayed with a razor. What? He is a vampire. He will regenerate.

Astarion opens his eyes and finds himself on the floor.

Where is he?

It's not a brothel. More like an Inn?

Reality slips back into his mind, replacing the awful visions of the past.

It wasn't real. Of course, it wasn't.

He doesn't have to sell his body anymore. He doesn’t have to sleep with people he doesn't like and want. He won't be beaten for saying “no”. He even has the luxury to say “no” to Tav, the only person whose body he enjoys.

But two hundred years of memories are too vivid. Tortures. Humiliation. Misery. Forced prostitution. He had to do the most disgusting things on his master's whims, and Astarion is afraid nothing will ever wash it away.

The flood of darkness flushes his brain again. Astarion rises up on his knees as if in a desperate prayer.

Why him?

Why did it happen to him?

His life was stolen. His personality, his future, his past. All was brutally taken away along with his beating heart.

Leaving only pain and disgust.

Tears burn his skin. The scars hurt as if they are still fresh and bleeding.

He was stripped away of everything. Of freedom. Of dignity. Of his own self-respect.

The person he could have become. The future he could have embraced.

Why?

Why?!

He digs his nail deep into his skin as if trying to peel it off. He is a vampire. It will regenerate.

Touches. The smell of unwashed bodies. Movements inside him. The fake pleasure. Pain. Always — pain. Either physical or mental, but often both.

He clenches his fists and groans like a wounded animal.

"Astarion"

A gentle voice resonates with his broken thoughts.

“Astarion, are you with me?��

He looks up and sees Tav. She sits in front of him. Concerned face. Worried eyes. She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to touch him. Like he's a person.

Like he's worth something.

Like he's broken and she needs to be careful.

"Oh, hello, darling", the mask is on again. "I am sorry. I've been carried away a bit. Tell me how was your day in the sunlight."

Tav sighs. “Astarion, I returned an hour ago. And you’ve been like that all this time.”

"Darling, you could just call me over”, Astarion smiles.

"I have done it five times."

“Oh. Then … “

“Astarion, I know when your smile is sincere and when it’s not. Don’t force yourself.”

He stops and sits back.

“May I touch you?”, she asks.

He nods. The caress sends a shiver down his spine and Astarion flinches avoiding looking at Tav.

He remembers. Again, and again. Never-ending tortures disguised as pleasures. Things he would have never done voluntarily. The dirt on his skin. The poison on his tongue.

Astarion wants to hide. He wants to disappear. He wants to run away.

Tav crawls closer to him to hold him in her hands.

He shivers.

“Hush, I am here. Tell me what is plaguing you.”

He almost orders himself to relax. Tav is here. Tav loves him. Tav doesn’t judge. Whatever he tells her, she won’t get angry. She won’t hurt him. She won’t punish him. Tav won’t use him for sex and pleasure. It will never happen no matter what he does.

He can run away. He can say “no”. He can fight back.

"Just a memory of a certain night in the lower town. A night of... what I usually was supposed to do. I...” the words stuck in his throat. “I am tainting you, Tav. I am ruining you.”

"Stop", Tav puts her chin on his shoulder nuzzling his collarbone.

"I am a terrible person, Tav. I truly am. It all happened to me and I sometimes think what a terrible person I used to be if I inflicted it all upon myself.”

Instead of answering, Tav holds him tighter as if not to not allow him to drown in dark waters.

"Do you remember anything from your past life?"

"No"

"Then why do you think you were a bad person?”

“Because — … “

He doesn’t know the answer. A corrupt magistrate who would easily ruin people’s lives. An arrogant racist who hated everyone who didn’t belong to the pure fairy kin.

But was it true?

“Listen, Astarion. I won’t pretend I know what you were like back then. I won’t lie by saying I know why it happened to you. But everything you “know” about your past life comes from Cazador. What if it was just another of his tortures? He wanted you to believe you were a bad person. He wanted you to think you were guilty. I know that type. It’s a special pleasure for them to torture good people. He — “

“Made me a street whore.”

He spits the last word. Yes, that is what he was all these years. He can mask it all with fancy words. Conquests, lovers, seduction. When it was just abuse.

Words spill out of him.

"Sometimes I wasn’t even supposed to drag anyone to the mansion. It was more like retrieving information by doing the only thing I knew how to do well. Sometimes it was an order to pleasure someone - as a reward for them. Sometimes it was just pointless. Just one more thing to break me even more.”

"You say like you did it of your own free will", she says.

"I-"

"You did it because you were like a puppet. Because it was impossible to say “no”. The moment you set yourself free, you stopped doing that."

"And the first thing I did was seduce you!”

She cups his face and kisses his forehead. It causes another flow of tears.

“I have my own free will, too,” she says. “Do you think I would sleep with you if I didn’t want to? I am not the person who hooks up with men in brothels and I am not the person who would enjoy a sentient trophy to fuck. It’s not normal to find people on streets and treat them like objects.”

Tav cradles him in her arms. Astarion’s muscles are still tense. He can’t do anything about that. Maybe, if Tav leaves him for a moment, he will find a way to relax but the mere thought of staying alone scares him.

She kisses him. Saying all the sweet words she knows to soothe his worries.

"I have an idea," she finally says. “Could you lie on your stomach?"

“What for?”

Tav kisses his neck.

"Please?"

He is trying to lie on the floor but Tav stops him.

“On the bed.”

He hesitates but agrees. Astarion puts his hands under his cheek. His bare back is exposed and it causes him to clench his fists again.

“I will stop if you feel uncomfortable, love. Just tell me and I will stop”

He nods. Tav saddles him with her hips and presses hands on his ribs.

“Can I touch your scars?”

“Yes.”

Tav presses arms into his skin causing a pleasant pressure. The fingers massage his back but there is nothing sexual about it. It's not a premise, not a prelude. It will lead to nothing. He won’t have to pay back.

The hands massage his back, strongly and gently.

"You have beautiful hands”, Tav murmurs. “They can do so many things —”

Yes, he thinks darkly, bringing pleasure mostly.

“They can sew, embroider. Pick up lockers. Steal pretty things. I like watching you doing tricks with coins. Can’t take my eyes off. Speaking of which… ”

Tav touches his curls.

“You have incredible eyes. Crimson red – “

The color of blood.

“The color of wine”, Tav proceeds. “You are always vigilant, like a cat on a hunt. You notice small details and see things I don’t.”

Tav moves a bit to be able to press a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You are so smart. You know so many things.” She gently touches his right ear. “I love your ears and how they peek out of your hair. They are so adorable especially when they twitch a bit, reacting to sounds or to your jaw movements.”

She keeps talking to him, massaging his back. The words of reassurance, of love, sound like a prayer. The touches and kisses cover his skin like a healing ointment.

Astarion feels protected. Loved.

And then it’s just too much.

He bursts into tears. Desperate, painful. Tears rip his chest apart causing pain in the throat.

Tav stops and gets off him allowing him to lay on his back.

“Astarion… Did I hurt you?”

He wants to say something but he can’t. He cries like a child abandoned in the streets. Cries like he did many years ago when the first tortures were inflicted upon him. When he realized no one would save him. That the Gods were silent and merciless.

“Astarion…”

All the darkness he has in his heart is spilling through the tears. They wash away the pain and disgust like rain washes dirt in the Lower City.

With effort he pulls Tav to him pressing her to his chest. She wraps her hands around him.

“Thank you”, he mutters through tears.

They sit like that for an eternity. Astarion listens to Tav’s heartbeat and breathing. He remembers her first reaction to his stories – anger. Pure, livid anger. Anger to people who did this to him. Not only Cazador but everyone who treated him like an object. And sorrow – she mourned his past along with him.

She is his happiness. The happiness he has never considered worthy of. He has found it with her. And he will be forever grateful for her patience and care.

“Tav?”, he whispers but she doesn’t reply. He pulls away a bit and sees she is asleep.

Astarion chuckles and helps Tav to lie on the bed beside him. He tucks her into the blanket and makes sure she lies on the dry side of the pillow (not the section damp with his tears).

And then, he begins whispering words like a prayer.

Thank you. Thank you for existing.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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roosterforme · 6 months

Text

How You Play the Game Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You find more comfort in Bradley's home and in his arms than anywhere else. But time is ticking down, and only a win by the Angels on Saturday evening will give you more of both. Bradley tries to make a compelling argument, because he knows it's finally time to start speaking his mind.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 7600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You woke with a small jump as soft lips and a bristly mustache met your cheek. "Bradley?" you mumbled as his deep chuckle next to your ear made you shiver. When you started to push the covers off and open your eyes, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm leaving for work, but you should stay in bed. You deserve a day off."

Now you were looking up at him standing next to his bed in his khaki uniform with all of his pins and his name tag. And he looked so good, you knew you were staring. It was almost startling seeing him like this when you were so used to all the Padres shirts and snug fitting jeans. Most of the people in his life were probably more used to this look. The Lieutenant Bradshaw look. But it was rendering you speechless.

"Can I come to work with you today?" you asked him, earning another chuckle. Spending the day at his house doing your laundry, relaxing and eating everything in his refrigerator sounded actually pretty perfect, but you'd just rather be doing all of that with him here, too.

"It's not Take the sports writer you're completely infatuated with to work day."

Now you were the one laughing as you set up in bed and reached for him. "When's that day? I'll make sure I'm off."

He kissed you sweetly as his hand found your hip. "I think it's in April."

You were giggling against his smiling lips when he suddenly groaned. "I need to go. Text me if you need anything? Or if you just want to distract me?"

"I will."

"See ya, Ace."

When you heard the front door open and then close, you rolled over in his bed and buried your face in his pillow. Then you squeezed it to your body. Bradley smelled incredible, especially since you were so used to the sterile bleach scent of hotel bedding and the stale air of ballpark press boxes. You wished you could bottle this up and take it on the road with you. Take a little bit of Bradley wherever you went.

Before that thought could take further shape, you climbed out of his bed and shivered in just his TOP GUN tee shirt. Since he told you to make yourself comfortable, you allowed yourself to root around in his dresser drawers in search of a pair of socks. Your eyes caught on the frame of his mirror hanging over the dresser, and you smiled at your reflection as you reached up and touched the ticket from game one. It was the media pass he won from the radio program, and you traced the corners of it before you sat on his bed and put on a pair of his comically large socks.

It was early, but you were hungry, and you found a fully stocked refrigerator when you went to the kitchen. Bradley's home was a treasure trove of things that were normal for other people but not for you: bedding that smelled like heaven and a delicious assortment of fresh food. You pulled out a container of berries and then found oatmeal in his cabinets. Your stomach was growling loudly as you poured yourself some coffee from the pot he left out for you.

You sat on his living room couch with your breakfast and looked out the window. It was probably always this sunny here, always this inviting. Bradley's cottage was easily five times the size of your apartment, which you rarely thought about beyond it being a place to hold all of your things that didn't really matter. You didn't have time for stuff; just the clothes on your back and your computer.

When you finished the last bite of oatmeal, you felt tears in your eyes. You were so lonely. You were so tired of forcing yourself to work harder and harder to make up the deficit between yourself and your colleagues. You just wanted to hide here, in San Diego, with Bradley. You felt safe and desirable, and he wasn't yelling at you or telling you that you needed to go to Boston.

You took a deep breath as you went to the kitchen sink with your bowl and mug. There were a few other dishes there, so you washed everything for him and set them out to dry. It had been years since you hadn't done at least a little bit of work on a day off, so you went to get your computer out of his bedroom. But it smelled too good, so you carried your computer back to his bed and snuggled in where you could work on the beginning of your next article before the game tomorrow afternoon.

Your inbox was completely filled with offers from recruiters with other newspapers and online outlets. You knew some of them would send you a job offer in an instant without even asking you to interview with them. Some of them had even managed to corner you when you were on the job; they knew your schedule as well as you did. You were always sent to the most high profile matches and events. And while some aspects of what they were offering you sounded very enticing, you were already at The New York Times.

After you took some deep breaths, you deleted all of them and opened up a blank document and got to work. But you didn't get far before you closed your laptop, because writing baseball stats was a lot more fun when you were sitting on Bradley's lap. You decided to text him.

How's work?

Then you remembered he told you that you could check out his collection of baseball cards in the garage. You jumped out of bed and walked down the short hallway, peeking in the extra bedroom on the way. You opened one door, but it was just a linen closet which he actually had organized by color, which you found charming. The next door led you out to the small, attached garage which was also very tidy. You looked at everything on his shelves before you found some boxes that said Nick Bradshaw- Baseball Cards. The marker was very faded on the cardboard, so you slid the first one down very carefully.

When you carried it back inside to the living room, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Once you set the box down, you saw that you had a new message from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Work is not as fun as playing hooky with you. What are you up to, Baby?

You took a selfie with the box of baseball cards which you assumed had belonged to his father. You added the caption 'About to dig through these and swoon all over your living room.'

The collection was impressive to say the least. You didn't collect cards, because you didn't have the time or space for them, but you knew which of his were valuable when you looked through them. You thought about how much fun it would be to organize these a little better with him. Your phone was vibrating again.

Bradley Bradshaw: You look gorgeous. Send me another picture?

You sent him another selfie, and then he asked for another one. This game went on and on until lunchtime when you decided to mess with him a little bit.

Now send me one, and you'll get something sexy in return.

He didn't respond immediately, and you figured he must be busy. You made a sandwich for lunch and ate it with some potato chips. Then you found his washer and dryer in a little closet across from the bathroom door and started a load of your dirty clothes. And then you got ready to get in the shower.

Your phone vibrated on the sink vanity, so you grabbed it before you stepped under the spray of hot water. And you almost dropped it when you saw a set of two photos of Bradley out in the bright sunlight in his uniform. In the first one, he was wearing some aviator sunglasses and smirking. In the second one, the sunglasses were gone, and he was smiling.

"Fuck," you moaned as you looked at the photos, making sure you didn't get your phone wet.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now where's my sexy Ace?

Before you could tell yourself what a big mistake you were making, you snapped a photo of yourself, water cascading down your breasts and a grin on your face. You sent it with the caption 'You look so good in those aviators, I'm about to start touching myself.'

You were standing there thinking about it. Your nipples were hard, and you were thinking about the scratch of Bradley's mustache on your skin. But his next message had your hand pausing before you could touch your clit.

Bradley Bradshaw: Jesus Christ, Baby. How am I supposed to focus when you send me something that good? Don't you dare touch yourself. I want you dialed up to eleven for me when I get home.

And now you were a whimpering mess as you tried to shower without letting yourself get off, wishing you had brought some sexy underwear on this trip with you.

-----------------------------

Well now Bradley was a mess, thinking about your body while he was supposed to be listening to a safety demonstration out on the tarmac. Why had he bothered to come to work today? He should have taken a second day off and spent it with you.

But you were leaving soon, and that was why he decided to try to keep to his normal routine. And you were exhausted whether you thought so or not, so he wanted you to have time to relax and unwind.

"Hey," Nat whispered, nudging his arm. "You okay?"

Bradley sighed and nodded, and then he held up his phone with a photo of you with the baseball cards for her to see. Nat pushed him a little further away from the group and hissed, "She's at your house? Are you insane?"

"Nat," he started, running his hand through his hair. "I know-"

"No, I don't think you do, Rooster. You're going to get your heart broken."

He nodded and looked down at their feet. "It's already unavoidable at this point. And she makes me feel so good."

His best friend sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know you're supposed to come to the Hard Deck for Mickey's birthday tonight, right?"

His plan was to bring you along, buy you a few drinks, maybe dance to the horrible collection of songs in the jukebox with you. "Yeah," he replied. "I'll come if she wants to join me, but I don't want you giving her the stink eye all night."

She scoffed. "I'll be perfectly nice to her."

Bradley shook his head, starting to get pissed off. "Will you though? See, the thing is, I'd like to think that I'm not the only one headed for some heartbreak here, Nat. I'd like to think she feels the same way I do. Like maybe I'm too good to be true, too. And maybe spending time with me now is worth the pain later."

Her face softened immediately. "You are, Rooster. You're too good to be fucking true. I promise I'll be nice. At the Hard Deck and next week if you want to talk about it then."

After that, Bradley just left early instead of hanging out on the tarmac with the others. He skipped the showers since he'd barely even done anything today. Then he could get home sooner and see you and just shower there. When he climbed in the Bronco, he texted to let you know he was on his way. And then he sat there with his key hovering next to the ignition.

You'd be gone by Monday morning. This was the only time he'd ever get to tell you he was on his way home to you. More than anything, he wanted to know if you were falling in love like he was. He wanted to know if there was even a tiny part of you that wanted to stay.

Ace: Hurry! I'm making dinner. And you should keep those aviators on when you get here... I'm dialed up to eleven.

He shoved the key into the ignition. He was pretty dialed up as well, but he knew it was at least in part because his heart was invested. He lived so close to base, it only took him a few minutes to get home. When he reached to remove his sunglasses and leave them in the cup holder, he smiled. Then he dashed up the walkway to his front door with his keys in hand and his aviators perched on his nose.

You were right there when he walked inside, wearing one of his favorite tropical print shirts and a pair of his socks and a bright smile. His house seemed more inviting than it ever had before. It even smelled like you were making something delicious. And then you were in his arms, and his hands were inside the unbuttoned shirt all over your soft skin.

"I missed you. Been thinking about how good you look in this thing all day long," you moaned, running your hands up and down the front of his uniform shirt. "But the sunglasses make it magical."

"I missed you, too." Bradley kissed you as your hands made their way slowly down to his pants. "You had me dialed up all day and I wasn't even with you." He wanted to ask you so many questions right now, but you were kissing his mustache and bumping his sunglasses with your nose while you wrapped your hand around his cock and started jerking. And then he couldn't remember anything except how happy you made him.

When you sank to your knees in front of him, Bradley yanked his aviators lower on his nose. You were smiling up at him as you yanked his pants down a little lower and licked away the bead of his precum before you kissed his tip. "Why is this so hot with you in your uniform, Lieutenant?"

Bradley groaned loudly as you took a few inches of him with a smirk. "Why is this so hot with you in my shirt and socks?"

You popped him free and giggled. "All my clothes are in your washing machine. Even my underwear."

"I love that for myself," he grunted as you took him deep. With gentle fingers, he stroked your face as you gave him head in his living room. It was like some depraved housewife fantasy, the way you felt so familiar to him. The way he could smell dinner cooking. The way you bobbed your head and moaned for him.

You sucked on his balls and ran your tongue slowly back and forth as you looked up at him. You had one hand wrapped around his length, and you were touching your tits with the other. Your gaze was the neediest thing he had ever seen as he stroked your cheek. Every time you released him, he groaned for you, and then you just started sucking on him again. He could feel himself tightening up as you kissed his balls and whimpered.

"Fuck," he growled, hauling you to your feet and getting his lips back on yours as you gasped in surprise. "I wanna fuck you."

"Please," you gasped, nodding and looking toward the couch.

He shook his head and lifted you up with both hands on your bare ass. "In my bed, Ace."

"That's even better," you whispered, sucking on his neck and raking your fingers through his hair. "Your bedroom smells like you. I love it in there."

"Fuck," he grunted again, his cock slapping against your ass as he carried you to his bed. And then you were on your back with your head on his pillow as he took off his aviators and tossed them down next to you. His shirt was hanging open on you, and his socks looked ridiculously adorable on your feet, and your legs were spread wide, your pussy already so wet for him. "You are the hottest thing I have ever seen," he announced before burying his face in your pussy and making you scream his name.

"Bradley!" you screeched and gasped over and over again as he got his face all wet from you before bringing his lips up to yours for a kiss. His uniform pins were brushing against your breasts and you were grinding your pussy against his cock.

"Shit," he gasped, pulling your lip between his teeth and releasing it. "Where are the condoms?"

"In my suitcase in the hallway," you whimpered. "Skip it if you want. I have an IUD."

And if Bradley thought he was losing his mind ten seconds ago, it was nothing compared to letting himself slip inside your warm, wet pussy with no protection at all. "Ace," he rasped, watching your face as he pushed himself deeper until your back arched off the bed. He fucked you with his hands on your hips until your legs were shaking. You had your hands all over his face, continuously pulling him in for kisses.

"You feel so good," you gasped, running your feet along his thighs.

He pressed his lips to your ear and asked, "Are you getting close for me?"

"Yes," you moaned, reaching for his hand and drawing it up to your lips. You sucked on his fingers for a few seconds, taking him painfully close to the edge, and then you pressed his fingers to your clit.

He worked in quick strokes, listening to the sounds you made as you got louder. When you pulled him closer for more kisses, he indulged you before he said, "I wanna watch you come for me, Baby."

And then you did. You came apart with his fingers on your body and his name on your lips. Your face was beautiful as you gasped and babbled nonsense as your pussy drained every drop of cum from him. You were perfect as you reached for him and said, "Now you better kiss me."

You and he had your lips all over each other for so long after you both caught your breath that he was surprised and delighted all over again when he started to pull out of you and remembered he came inside you.

"You're blushing," you whispered as you looked up at him on his knees between your legs.

His cum was slowly oozing out of your opening and dripping down to your ass. "Baby, if you could see what I see, you'd understand." He was transfixed. Obsessed. He leaned down to kiss your pussy and taste himself there, licking along your skin with a soft grunt.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and tugged him by his hair, and he just knew you wanted to taste it, too. So he kissed you, letting you suck on his tongue. Then he jerked away from you and turned toward the door.

"Is something burning?"

-----------------------------

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Bradley said for the hundredth time as you sat on his couch with him eating pizza. "This isn't as good as yours would have been."

You just laughed. "Seriously, this is probably better. I'm not great at cooking. I was just trying to impress you."

Why exactly, you weren't sure. What difference did it make to Bradley if you could cook a chicken casserole that was good or not? He wasn't yours to impress. You weren't going to be here past Sunday night at the very latest, and that was only if the Angels won game six tomorrow.

"I'm impressed," he replied, his cheeks a little pink again.

"Yeah," you said, trying to push your feelings to the back burner. "I could tell how impressed you were with me in your bedroom."

"That's not what I meant," he said, looking down at his lap with a frown that made your heart ache. You tossed your pizza crust into the box and climbed on his lap. You and he had taken a quick shower together after he called in a pizza order, and now you were both in your own clothing.

You kissed him and tried to change the subject. "What time are we leaving for the bar?" you asked.

When he met your eyes again, he said, "We can go whenever. And we don't have to stay long. Just long enough to say happy birthday to my friend and have a drink?"

You could hardly believe he wanted to take you with him. His friends would want details about who you were and why you were together, so you would just follow his lead.

It was a short drive in his cool Bronco to the bar, and he sang along to the radio and held your fingers laced with his the whole way. And then he paraded you inside with him like it was the most natural thing the two of you could be doing. "That's Mickey, the birthday boy wearing the blue Captain America shirt. And that's my best friend Natasha wearing the annoyed expression because someone is talking to her."

You laughed, and he leaned down to kiss you as you walked toward the pool table. As you walked past the bar to meet everyone, you noticed the bartender's gaze following you and Bradley as you went. Her expression was one of curiosity as she mixed a drink.

"Ace, this is Nat," Bradley was saying, and you turned in time to grasp hands with the woman that he referred to as a 'mean little spitfire'.

"It's nice to meet you," Natasha replied. She didn't look happy exactly, but she didn't look like she was upset that you were here. "I've heard a lot about you."

You looked up at Bradley, a little surprised. "Oh. I've heard a lot about you, too. Bradley said you're smarter than all the guys."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for acknowledging it, Rooster. You two want drinks?" she asked.

"Go ahead," Bradley replied. "We'll get some in a minute."

"Hey, Rooster!" Mickey shouted as he waved in between taking shots.

You laughed. "I don't know if I'd ever get used to everyone using your call sign," you told him. "It's so amusing to me."

Then Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer. He kissed your forehead softly, but he looked serious. "If you stick around in San Diego, I bet you'd get used to it, Ace."

You swallowed hard as you looked up into his brown eyes. You could tell he was being sincere, which made everything hurt a little more. But you were saved by the group of guys all calling for him. Bradley sighed and kissed your forehead one more time before you and he were absorbed by the group.

A few minutes later, your head was swirling with names and faces when Bradley asked, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"I'll come with you," you told him, and he nodded before taking your hand a little hesitantly. You were confused, because then he wrapped his arm around you just like he always did, and his fingers were softly stroking your side through your shirt. But then when the bartender turned your way, it clicked. She and Bradley had slept together before. You could just tell.

"Hey, Bradley," she said, already reaching for a pint glass and pouring what must have been his usual beer. The way she looked at him and talked to him was just a tiny bit too familiar.

"Hey," he grunted before turning your way. "What do you want to drink, Baby?"

You met the bartender's eyes and couldn't help but smile as Bradley brushed his lips along your temple. You weren't his, but he was choosing you right now. And it felt incredible. "I'll have the same thing," you told her before turning your face so he could kiss your lips.

Bradley dug out his wallet without really looking at her, and she ran his credit card as you sipped your beer. He wasn't being a jerk, and she didn't seem overly jealous, but you just knew they had a past.

Then the two of you threw some darts and played some pool, and Bradley was more than happy to point out that mini golf was probably your worst game. "Happy to see you can handle a pool cue better than a putter," he whispered with a grin.

"Be nice, or I'll leave my golf ball behind at your place," you replied.

He looked a little sad as he shook his head. "I want you to keep that." You knew you would, and he knew you would. You could picture the perfect spot for it in your apartment, but you already knew it would never make it there. You'd keep packing that stupid blue golf ball from your date with him in your luggage and take it everywhere with you.

"Can we go now?" he asked suddenly, his face a little sad. "Back to my place?"

"Yeah," you agreed, and after a round of goodbyes, he led you back past the bar with his arm around you. The bartender tracked your movements, but you didn't care. He was yours right now, the way he was touching you.

And he was yours when you got back to his house, the way you were touching him. "Ace," he sighed as you rode him in his bed. His body was delicious, but his voice was what had you a mess. "Baby, you're so good. Can't get enough of those little noises. Keep going." The feel of him once again inside you without a condom as he verbally coaxed you to orgasm was only part of what you knew you were going to miss.

Because the rest of it came next, when he was curled up with you in the dark, quiet room, his arm draped around you, pulling you close. The only sounds were his breath next to your ear and his deep whisper. "Night, Baby."

-----------------------

"Stay in bed," Bradley whispered again. It was Saturday. Game six was this evening, and he was trying his hardest to draw you back to him again. He had successfully made you snuggle in and fall asleep with him again after the first time you woke up.

"You'll mess up my sleep cycle for when I'm in Boston," you murmured before you snuggled against him with the covers pulled up to your chin. "But you're so warm."

Bradley indulged in a brief fantasy where you would fly out to Boston, complete your assignment, and then fly back to San Diego to be with him until you had to go somewhere else. And you'd be here when he got home from a long deployment. Ready to take him to bed and hold him just like this.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked as you ran your nails along his cheek and kissed his nose.

He couldn't tell you, no matter how much he wanted to. "Thinking about how I'm still the worst Padres fan ever. The Angels better win today. We deserve seven games, Ace."

"We do," you agreed, and Bradley was delighted that you fell asleep in his arms again.

When you and he finally got out of bed, you went to his dresser and pulled on one of his tee shirts like this was a normal occurrence. "Will you let me make you breakfast?" you asked with a smile.

"I was going to make breakfast for you," he replied, patting your ass on his way to the bathroom. "But we could make something together."

You were already in the kitchen, kneeling on the countertop and looking in his cabinets when he came out of the bathroom. "Do you have chocolate chips?" you asked. "We can make chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, maybe some oatmeal. Sorry, I'm just so excited for something other than a free continental breakfast."

He wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you down as you squeaked. "Not up there," he whispered, kissing your neck as he set you on the floor. "In the pantry."

You turned and scampered across the kitchen, and now Bradley was sincerely hoping he had all the ingredients you'd need for pancakes just so he could make you happy right now. "Found them!" you announced, holding up a bag with a smile that made him weak.

"Let's get started."

It was too much fun being with you. The pancakes you made turned out beautifully, and you and he ate on his couch again. This time he accidentally dripped maple syrup on his bare abs since he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I feel like you did that on purpose so I'd either buy you another shirt or lick it off of you."

He smirked. "I mean, I wouldn't be mad if you did."

You sighed dramatically as you set your plate on the coffee table next to the box of baseball cards. "Fine. Extra large shirt? You want the Padres this time?" Bradley laughed at your words, and then you leaned down and licked him clean as you looked up at him. Then you climbed into his lap and kissed him.

"The Angels better win tonight," he murmured against your lips. "I need them to."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" you asked, and he carried you there, expecting maybe some more tongue exploration. But what he got was you curling up in his arms again, your lips pressed to his chest. You were quiet for a bit before you asked him softly, "What would it be like being in a relationship with you?"

This was an echo of his question from Thursday night, and now he could appreciate that he had really put you on the spot then. How could he describe something spectacular that he wasn't going to get to experience with you, in a way that would make you remember him fondly. Bradley made sure his breathing was calm and even as he said, "Probably just like this, Ace. A whole lot of this right here."

You didn't say anything for a long time, and you kept your face buried against him. But eventually you nodded and said, "I would like that."

-------------------------

When Bradley held your hand during the game at Petco Park, everything seemed a bit more somber today. The press box was quieter than usual even though the crowd was going crazy. During the seventh inning stretch, when you leaned in close and kissed his cheek, Quincy turned around and asked, "You bring him to every game now?" as he nodded at Bradley.

"He's my intern and my sex slave, Quince. And that's strictly on the record."

But Quincy was undeterred today even as you and Bradley laughed quietly together. "Heard Greg was thinking about pulling you out of here early to send you to the Bruins? He only pays you so much because you're useful to him. Being a woman and all."

Bradley watched your head snap to face Quincy with a look of barely concealed rage. "Try not to cry too hard over the fact that I make more money than you even though you're twice my age."

Quincy grunted and muttered, "Same old, same old with you. Always gotta be on top. Always gotta get the last word in."

Bradley watched you press your lips together like you were trying your hardest to not have the last word right now. It was obvious that wasn't why you made it as far as you had. It was also obvious Quincy was trying to bait you. Bradley just felt a little bit bad that he could be used as ammunition against you. "You want something to drink, Ace?"

When you nodded, Bradley stood and went to get you a water bottle. "Thanks," you muttered, looking down at your keyboard as he handed it to you.

"Hey, don't let these assholes get to you," he whispered as he slipped back down into his seat.

He was drawing little shapes along your back with his fingers as you looked up at him in surprise. "I don't fucking care about Quincy.... the Padres are up three to zip." You laughed sardonically. "You know I'll have to leave in the morning if they win, right?" you asked him.

Bradley nodded. He couldn't even say the words out loud. So he focused on the game and held your hand tight. The Padres were using their relief pitcher a little early, and he looked fatigued. His pitches were wild, and he was walking batter after batter. Then right at the top of the eight inning, Bradley heard the crack of a perfectly hit ball.

"That's a grand slam," you whispered before the ball was even beyond the fence. Instead of marking it down on your stat sheet, you tossed your pencil aside and kissed him. "Angels up by one run," you said against his lips.

"They need to hold the lead," he replied, letting his forehead rest against yours. "They need to. I don't care who wins the World Series, but they need to do it in game seven, not game six."

His words made you smile so much, he wrapped his arm around you to keep you as close as he could. And when the final score was the Padres with three runs and the Angels with four, you were practically on his lap. You were even smiling when Greg called you a minute later to tell you to get to Boston first thing on Monday morning after game seven on Sunday night.

"I'll have to book my flight," you said to Bradley as everyone started to flood out of the press box ahead of the crowd. "But we have two more nights together instead of just one."

You and he were quiet after that, your fingers laced together as you walked out to the parking lot and rode back to his house. He didn't feel like he needed to rush right now as he unlocked his front door and followed you inside. You pulled him in for a kiss that was so sweet, he was surprised. Just your arms around his neck and your lips moving gently on his.

"We have some time before my midnight deadline. Can we get changed and snuggle in bed like earlier?" you asked him, your eyes closed as your lips hovered near his. "I want to change into your Padres jersey."

Bradley had goosebumps on his skin as he whispered, "It's your Padres jersey now."

You looked so damn pleased with yourself as you ran toward his bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way. Bradley undressed down to his underwear while you did the same and then slipped his jersey on before heading for his dresser. "Your floor's cold," you mumbled as you grabbed a pair of his socks and put them on before jumping into his bed. "And now I look ridiculous."

Bradley shook his head as he stared at you. He'd been holding back enough, and he just didn't want to do it anymore. "Nah, Ace, you look... like everything I want."

"Bradley," you whispered, pulling his blanket up over your face. "You can't."

He slipped in bed and burrowed under the blanket with you. Your eyes were bright as you looked at him in the dim bit of light. "I can't help it," he replied, and you eased yourself into his arms. "There's nobody like you. You're the Ace for a reason."

"God," you whimpered, kissing his lips and his cheeks, and teasing your fingers through his hair. Your palms were warm on his cheeks as you traced every single scar and the curve of his lips. You ran your nose along his mustache, and you just snuggled closer and closer to him. "I can't think straight when I'm with you. It's like, I feel like I could..."

"Like you could what, Baby?" he begged. He needed you to finish that sentence, but you didn't. You just kissed him until you were the one begging and pleading. It was so easy to give you what you wanted right now, because he wanted it, too. He yanked his underwear down and pulled yours to the side, and when he slipped inside you, he watched you pull the blankets down. And now he could see you a little better, and you really were exactly what he wanted.

It was slow and sweet, and he knew he'd never feel this good with anyone else. He didn't want to let you go. He held your thigh on his hip and rocked into you, thrusting as he thought 'stay, stay, stay'.

"Bradley," you moaned, pushing him onto his back and riding him until you came. He was afraid he was saying exactly what he was thinking now as words like need and permanent surfaced in his mind while he babbled. You told him to cum inside you again, so he did. And when you curled up on his chest, he kissed the top of your head.

Your lips were on his neck as you silently ran your fingers through his hair. "Ace," he whispered, but you just shook your head. So he pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands up underneath the jersey, and you shivered against him.

A few minutes later, when he was nearly soothed to sleep with his cock still nestled inside you, Bradley felt your body jerk. "Oh no. What time is it?" you gasped. You climbed off of him abruptly, a look of panic on your face as you searched for your phone. "Fuck!"

Bradley climbed out of bed as you fumbled your phone and ran for your computer which was charging on his chair. His cum was on his abs and your legs, but you didn't stop to get cleaned up before you ran for his kitchen table. "What can I do to help?" he asked as he followed you.

"Nothing," you snapped, booting up your computer. It was almost 11:30, and Bradley wasn't sure exactly how much you'd written before and during the game; he had been too concerned about the Angels winning tonight.

He got you some water and whispered, "I can help you proofread it," but you didn't respond. You just typed away frantically while he hovered around the living room, glancing in your direction constantly. Your brow was creased in frustrated determination, and Bradley felt like an asshole for not suggesting that you or he set an alarm before climbing in bed. Because he could absolutely lose all track of time when he was with you, whether you and he were fucking, talking or cuddling. And he knew it.

When he looked at the clock on the microwave, he winced. It was nearly midnight, and you were still typing and looking at your stat sheet. "Anything I can do?" he asked again, but you just shook your head, so he went to the bathroom. He got himself cleaned up and then just leaned on the sink vanity with his head cradled in his hands.

Fuck. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any stress when you were with him. He felt like an idiot. When he finally returned to the table, the clock said 12:01 and you were still typing. He was waiting for your phone to ring. Greg would be calling you to start screaming any second now. And he had to stand there and watch it all unfold. You submitted your article at 12:07, and you looked up at him with sad yet determined eyes before you answered your ringing phone.

"Greg," you said, your voice sounding strong and sure even though your face was defeated. And then Greg was hollering nonstop as you held the phone a few inches away from your ear. Bradley hated it so much. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek while Greg reminded you not too kindly that you missed your deadline by seven minutes. Then Bradley cupped your face in his hands and held eye contact with you while you told Greg it wouldn't happen again before you ended the call.

The silence was almost deafening as you held your phone and looked up at him. Bradley swallowed hard, but his voice was still a harsh whisper as he said, "I hate it when he yells at you."

You shook your head and grimaced as tears filled your eyes. "Well, I missed my deadline, so he had every right to-"

"No," Bradley said, dropping to his knees in front of you on his kitchen floor. "He doesn't, Ace. He shouldn't do that. It's just seven minutes."

"But it's a deadline for a reason," you supplied immediately, looking down into his face. "One minute is the same as seven is the same as sixty. It shouldn't happen at all."

Bradley scoffed. "So he sits up until three in the morning in New York just to call you and scream? That's fucked up."

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "I let myself get distracted by you. This is my fault. But when I'm with you, I can't think straight. Which is bad."

"Ace," he whispered helplessly as you cried. "But if we were together-"

"We can't be together," you told him. Your voice was soft and sorrowful, but it felt like a gunshot to Bradley. His ears were ringing from the sound of it. He could tell you were stubborn, but right now, he felt stubborn, too. It wasn't very often that he allowed himself to want something, and never on the scale of how badly he wanted you, but he thought right now it would be worth fighting for this.

"I've seen your email inbox," he whispered, and your eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't need Greg or the New York Times to be successful, Ace. You bring everything to the table, and clearly other people see that."

"Bradley," you said, shaking your head sadly. "It's the New York Times. The pinnacle. There's nowhere else for me to go that wouldn't be a step backwards in my career, and that's a fact. My job is important to me. Writing is important to me."

"But you're more than who you write for-"

You cut him off as you raised your voice. "You knew immediately who I was when you saw my name, because I work for The Times!"

Bradley buried his face against your thigh as he tried to will his heart to stop pounding so hard he could barely hear. He kissed you there before he looked up at you again in agony. "People would follow your writing anywhere, because you're that fucking good. Have you ever thought about writing for someone else?"

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "No." "Baby, you could make a big name for yourself on an independent platform. Your style is fun and it flows. You can find something better for yourself than the New York Times. This doesn't have to be that hard."

"It's not that easy either. I told you how it would be, Bradley," you said, your voice taking on a pleading tone. "You would hate it when I was away for long stretches. You would want someone else. Someone easy to be with. Someone who was always in San Diego."

"That's a fucking lie," he growled. "And you know it."

You were silent for a minute as your eyes settled on your lap. "New York is my home. I'm settled there. And you're settled here."

He felt sick. The words had too much finality. But you were waiting for him to confirm, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was let you down. "Yeah. I am." Then he realized he was crying as well when he reached up to cup your cheek again. You melted into his touch before you slid off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. "Ace. Look at you," he whispered, and you met his eyes as your lip quivered. "You're perfect. The perfect woman. I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me, too."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held you while you cried. "I'm sorry, Bradley," you murmured against his shoulder.

He knew you were scared to even think that something might be a better fit for you, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe it would be career suicide if you left your job. He didn't know a damn thing about it really. All he knew was everyone wanted you with them. Including him. It was hard for him to breathe as he asked, "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

But you didn't answer him. You just stayed curled up on his lap until after one in the morning with your arms wrapped around him and his securely at your back. He tried his best to memorize how good and yet terrible this felt, because in a few days, he knew he'd probably give anything to feel you in his arms.

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together."

Bradley closed his eyes against the pain. "Sure, Ace."

--------------------------

All I feel right now is pain. I miss feeling joy. The final game is next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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lorkai · 2 months

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I'm a little biased as always when it comes to those two but this was one of my best fics imo, look at their happy faces. They're so precious! I love them sm ipjwiojweoijg. There's probably some typos but I'm super busy with uni stuff + can't find the time now to proofread and this has been on my drafts for a while now, so I'm posting how it is. Tagging u bcs u asked, I hope u like this silly fic! @hanafubukki

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Not necessarily a warning but there's some suggestiveness at the start.

"Today I'm going to steal Rook's hat!" Those were your exact words.

You said this at six o'clock in the morning, the sun still creeping across the sky to brighten everyone and everything another day, after having entered through the open window of Vil's room like a gremlin - how you did it he had no idea considering his room was on the top floor of Pomefiore.

And in that moment, when you gush about how smooth and soft Rook's hat felt to the touch, and how you would play with the feather and laugh at the surprised expression on Rook's face, Vil wanted nothing more than to turn to the other side of the bed and go back to sleep.

You threw yourself into the vacant space next to Vil, swinging your legs happily as you asked for your beloved's help. Your little puppy eyes making his heart clench and twist inside his chest, like it always did when you used that same trick time and time again.

Breathe, exhale. He remembered. He couldn't give in to your whims again, he remembered well what happened last time.

You invited yourself even closer to him, ignoring your personal distance to cup his face in your hands, fingers massaging the silky skin as you looked up at him. "Please, Mein Lieber."

For a long second, Vil wondered how he could love two persons as chaotic as you and Rook. You two were practically the same and more times than you should you followed the hunter around, imitating his mannerisms and making him laugh like that because you think it was funny. You liked imitating him and Rook loved to have you around, taking you to people watch while you both stated your observations on each person.

This and Rook liked to teach you the hunter ways. So far, you haven't killed anyone with your bad bow skills.

"Du bist die Liebe meiines Lebeéns." You whispered against his ear, consonants and vowels completely exaggerated and some pronounced wrong. And he ignored you, rolling his eyes, accustomed to your antics by now.

One of the different things between you and Rook is that the Chasseur D'amour would use flattery and his good observation to get what he wanted, you instead always chose to irritate people (mainly Vil) with your terrible German speech. Was it your only weapon or was it just because Vil couldn't bear such torture?

He preferred not to know.

You then changed tactics, preferring to fill his face with slow kisses but always avoiding the place he wanted you to kiss him. His temples, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, every bit of skin your lips touched made him feel dizzy. Vil could mentally hear Rook's whines if he were there, ignored, Rook was always so needy for his and yours attention.

His rough, chipped lips slowly descending though the queen's neck while his hands free from his gloves gently navigated Vil's sides and hips. He trembled in your arms.

"That's enough!" Vil looked at you, panting. He held you before you could kiss his eyebrows too. "I'll help you, but you better come here right now and kiss me. On the lips, darling."

You didn't need to hear it twice. The kiss began softly, a needy dance of emotions. But he wanted more, needed more until he was truly satisfied with it. You had woken him up too early, had disturbed him and irritated him. He needed this to restore his good mood.

He needed you like you needed him.

Time seemed to slow down as you met again for a kiss, and another, and another, and hundreds of others, leaving only a sweet freshness behind. That was how he described all the kisses he shared with you, all of them precious.

Vil felt you smiling through the kiss, he could feel the aura of victory and presumption that exuded from you. He bit your bottom lip hard to keep your attention on him, making you whine.

"However, the execution of this plan of yours will depend entirely on you, Liebling. I don't need to remind you that Rook is a great observer and will instantly know you’re up to something if you act differently.”

You nodded as if you were confident that your other lover wouldn't be able to notice anything. Or at least, that he didn't realize it until it was too late.

Later, after you had kissed Vil until he was beaming and satisfied, and his lips were softly swollen, you found yourself sitting on a high branch of a tree, hidden from view and engulfed by green leaves. Waiting for the right moment, watching your target.

You forced your eyes to follow every movement of your vulnerable prey, the one who was sitting a few meters away from you, resting in his usual spot and polishing his bow.

As promised, Vil was talking to Rook about a subject you didn't know what it was. His expression carried the usual serious air but it was accompanied by a calm smile. Rook had that effect on him. And in you too, as if he always knew what you needed to hear to smile, to laugh and to cry.

Yuu notices the way Rook tilts his head to better hear what Vil is saying and how Vil laughs at Rook's jokes. A few seconds go by, you very slowly starts to climb down from your hiding spot, at this point you didn't even need to think anymore, your hands knew where to hold and how to search. It was like second nature.

Finally on the ground again, you do your best to mingle with the tall trees and huge bushes. You can still make out Rook and Vil's figures, the hunter stood up, showing Vil his bow and arrows, and he demonstrated the correct way to hold it.

It occurred to you that maybe Vil was talking about some role he would need to play as an archer and you had to admit that captured Rook's attention perfectly. He was so excited while he explained this and that to his lover, you almost wished to forget your little plan and come closer to listen to him. When he goes on a rant, his beautiful green eyes lighten up while he explain and demonstrates, even more when he can answer some doubts.

'Focus, soldier', you thought to yourself.

The hunter handed his bow to the queen, placing his hands over Vil's and explaining how Vil should shoot to hit the target. And Vil did perfectly. As Vil gracefully executed the instructions, Rook's admiration was evident by his big smile.

As Vil's aim improved under Rook's guidance, you edged closer, careful not to disturb the serene moment. Careful to remember every little detail. You could feel the tension building within you, anticipation mingling with determination. As Vil hitted the target, Rook engulfed him in a warm and long hug, swaying side to side as if they were doing a little comemmoration dance.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, as Rook kept praising Vil, you were getting closer, silent, deadly, your hands strecthed to grab your prize. sensed the perfect opportunity to strike. Timing was crucial, very important for you mission, and you waited a little more, watching them.

His hat was so close now... The sun shone into it, making it looks so comfy. You almost wanted to rush, to grab and run but you waited just a little more.

Vil handed back the bow, still smiling. You could tell it was genuine, he was proud of himself to be able to hit the target even if he wouldn't use this knowledge anywhere. More than this, as he put a stray hair behind his ear, Rook stood on his tiptoes to give his queen a kiss as reward.

And was then that you emerged from your hiding place, your presence initially unnoticed amidst the rustling leaves. Before either could react, you grabbed his hat and ran as if your life depended on it. It was so much beautiful, so soft and comfy, you putted on your head, the last thing you saw was Rook's shocked but proud eyes staring at you.

You had accomplished your mission, feeling very proud of yourself. But now it was time to proceed with the next phase of your plan; run away from Rook.

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

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Day 20: Breeding - Frank Castle

Kinktober Day 20: Breeding - Frank Castle x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, Frank is a big softie, fluff, pregnancy kink, body worship, table sex, couch sex, riding, breeding, creampie, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

It was a beautiful day, enough so that you had even managed to drag Frank out of the house for a walk around a few blocks, needing the fresh air and sun against your skin, happy to be out in the open.

There were other people around but neither of you paid them any attention, just lost in each other's company, hand tightly gripping to his until your name was shouted at you from across the street.

“Oh my god, Alice?” you shouted in surprise seeing one of your old high school friends walking with a pram. The two of you spent some time catching up, you hadn’t even realised she was pregnant, to begin with.

“Do you want to hold him?” Alice offered and you were quick to cradle the baby close to your chest, cooing as he looked around at the big vast world. All the while, Frank hung back, his hood kept high over his face so Alice couldn’t properly see his face, watching you closely through half-lidded eyes, realising he’d never actually seen you in a maternal situation.

It took a few minutes of baby talk before you were handing him back to his mother, agreeing to meet soon for a full catch-up about everything and once again found yourself walking with Frank's hand secured around your own, in the direction of home.

This was where you noticed the shift in Frank, the way his grip was slightly tighter around your hand, hip brushing against yours rather than the healthy gap you would naturally leave between someone you were walking with and he was noticeably quieter, simply nodding at your questions then his usual grunts.

Finally arriving back home, you sighed in contentment at being able to take your shoes off and collapse back onto the sofa, all whilst keeping a sharp eye on your boyfriend as he travelled to the kitchen to retrieve a beer. He’d finished two more before even joining you back in the living room.

“Ok Frank, what is it? What's wrong with you? Is it because I said hi to Alice? She didn’t even see your face Frank it’s fine I promise”.

His mouth twitched like he wanted to retort but held back, instead taking a second to think about his next words whilst sitting at the dining table. Not letting him escape the conversation, you quickly stood and approached, forcing your way to stand between his legs, hands cupping his cheeks to stroke along his cheekbone, dipping to place a single kiss on the tip of his nose.

Frank placed the beer down on the table behind you, already knowing he couldn’t hold anything back from you, taking a second to take a deep breath, hands now resting against your hips.

“I can’t read your mind Castle” you teased, continuing to place sweet kisses along his face.

Frank sighed into the affectionate touch, “It’s nothing it’s just uh… seeing you today with the baby… it just- hand my mind wondering that's all”.

You weren’t expecting this to be the reason for his radio silence, frowning before slowly saying your next sentence carefully making sure you had got the information correct. “I thought you didn’t want to have any kids? We’ve talked about this.”

He was quick to shake his head, finally looking up into your eyes, “no I don’t want any, it’s hard I-”. You could have sworn his stance changed, sitting higher in the chair, legs spreading to pull you the slightest bit closer, eyes flicking up and down your body. “The thought of you pregnant”, his two large hands began wandering up and settling on your abdomen. “Swollen stomach”, his hands continued to venture north to cup your breaths, “big tits”, the drop in his voice had you flushing in arousal.

“Knowing that I was looking after you whilst you were full with my babies, I just think you would look so good pregnant.. That’s all”. Your lower lip had become trapped in your teeth have never heard him be so candid about something like this before.

“You want to get me pregnant?”

“No I-” his eyes snapped to yours in a bit of a panic, meaning what he said when he explained he didn’t want kids, you didn’t either but were willing to play along with it for now and he finally clocked onto this too, noting the twinkle in your eyes.

“You want to fill me up?” Frank was already groaning, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your stomach, hands moving to cup your ass.

“Fuck yes, baby”.

“Then fill me up, what are you waiting for?” all you could do was giggle frantically as he gripped your thighs to lift you up and onto the table, being careful not to knock his beer in the process but gently cupping the back of your head until you were laying on the wooden table top.

Leaning over your body, Frank kissed you sensationally, hot and heavy breaths were shared as well as his tongue slipped against yours causing you to moan deeply, grasping onto his hoodie, and holding him close. His warmth spread with his wandering hands as they travelled up and down your body, squeezing and stroking everywhere he could reach until he was gently easing up the hem of your shirt.

Sitting up slightly, you aided in him discarding your shirt, followed quickly by your bra with a simple snap of his fingers against the buckle for you to throw somewhere across the room.

His rough hands were quick to cup both of your nipples, tweaking the nipples before breaking the kiss to latch his lips onto the peaked bud, pulling them in turn into his mouth. You gasped against the sensation, back arching, hand cradling the back of his head to your chest, eyes blazing as you watched him worship your body. Steadily his warm mouth moved further down, kissing your stomach, glancing up to whisper.

“Want to see you prengnat with my baby”, you’d never seen him act like this before, so utterly obsessed and fixated on your body and it had you groaning, hips lifting frantically as he eased your jeans and panties onto the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

You felt so vulnerable lying on the table so you began to try and pull on his own clothes, huffing, “want you naked too”.

He chuckled darkly at your expression, pecking your pouting lips, “ok ma’am”. Frank then proceeded to undress as you watched with a cheeky grin, playing with your breasts as more of his skin was exposed for your eyes to appreciate.

Frank’s cock was only just freed from their confides before he was hiking your legs around his hips and lining his cock up with your entrance, “I'm going to fill you up with my babies, I want to see you pregnant”. Before you could respond, he was easing his cock in inch by inch, loving the way your mouth dropped open in a silent moan.

As he bottomed out, he tried to give you a second to relax into the intrusion but you began circling your hips, needing to feel him now, not wanting to wait another second. Frank growled at your movements, placing one hand next to your head leaning his weight forward, and the other rested against your hip, holding you close to him as he began to fuck you. Hard.

Your whole body jolted with each slap of his hips, his own grunts fanning across your face as you stared in between your bodies at the way his abs flexed with each thrust and the beautiful sight of his cock plunging between your thighs.

“Ah, you’re making me feel so good Frank!” you shouted in ecstasy, nails digging into his shoulders, “want you to cum in me”.

Frank swore under his breath, strong arms cradling your body close as he picked you up, moving towards the couch and sitting so you were now riding him, his hips continuing to match your rhythm.

You could feel his thick cock hitting against your cervix causing deep sparks to travel through your cunt, arms cupping his jaw to pull him into a sloppy kiss, teeth tugging his bottom lip until it was snapping back.

Frank pulled back your head sharply, causing your back to arch and the perfect position for him to suck on your nipples, moving steadily between the two giving them both equal attention until they were both peaked and puffy.

You were crying out in pleasure now, feeling your juices coating his lap, needing to feel him cum with you, and holding on desperately for that tension not to slip.

“Wanna have your babies Frank” you ground out, eyes glazed over in lust.

He released your nipple, looking into your eyes that were just as much glazed over as yours were, “yeah? Want me to stuff you full of my babies? Want me to cum deep in this pretty little cunt of yours?”

“Fuck yes” you moaned, his words being your last downfall as your orgasm rattled through your body, shaking you to the very core, clinging to him so you wouldn’t fall back. Luckily Frank was already holding onto your back as well, so lost in your orgasm that you hadn’t realised that he had came at the same time until you could feel more liquid spilling out of your clenching cunt.

Frank shivered as the last of his seed coated your walls, face nuzzling into your neck as he mumbled, “that was fucking intense”.

You laugh softly, hands massaging the nape of his neck, “yeah, it was a bit”.

#this gif fucking help me #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle one shot #the punisher smut #the punisher one shot #marvel one shot #marvel smut #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #mine*

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

Note

Hi again Bestie!

This is for the Enemies to Lovers Angsty Joel ask. I was thinking a new reader with show Canon Joel? But if that’s too much work and it works better with Lavender Joel and doc that’s fine too!!

aaa thank you so much for responding!!

OMG HI BESTIE!

Thank you so much for the ask and for being patient! I hope this fits with what you're looking for. Thank you for reading and reaching out! Love you!!!

(This ask came in from @dundienominee and they're tagged with permission HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!!!)

Loathe/Lust

You have every reason to hate Joel fucking Miller. He knows it. It doesn't stop him from coming to you for help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Legal age gap (reader is 27 and has known Joel since she was 25, Joel is 46.) SMUT :D Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.4k

Spring, 2013

At the end of the world, there were very few constants.

One, you were fucking tired of jerky.

Two, there was never a shortage of people who needed healing.

Three, you hated Joel fucking Miller.

Everything else could shift and change but those things were facts.

Jerky was a staple of every meal because, with QZ food, there was no such thing as fresh. There was often no such thing as enough, either, but fuck were you tired of jerky.

And QZ life wasn’t easy on anybody. People needed a lot of patching up here. You’d come up through FEDRA school, 17 and a junior in high school when the outbreak happened. You were tapped early for your aptitude for biology and taught the very basics for helping to keep people alive. You didn’t know much about the world before, you’d been a teenager when things went to shit, but you knew what they taught you barely qualified as medicine. Still, you did everything you could to help people. It was nice, having purpose in this shitty life.

Then there was Joel. Joel fucking Miller. Joel fucking Miller, drug smuggler. Joel fucking Miller, guy who got your brother mixed up in his stupid illegal activities. Joel fucking Miller, the man who introduced your brother to fucking Marlene. Joel fucking Miller, the person you really blamed for your idiot brother taking off across the country to help the goddamn Fireflies as though there was a single fucking thing people could do to fix this disaster, to bring down FEDRA. Without Joel fucking Miller, Nathan never would have gotten hooked on drugs to begin with, never would have been vulnerable, never would have fallen for Marlene’s bullshit.

If it wasn’t for Joel fucking Miller, you wouldn’t be here, alone.

But you were.

And you hated him for it.

And he knew that you hated him for it.

Which is why it was a hell of a shock when there was a knock on your door late one Thursday night, just before curfew, and Joel was there, grimacing and panting for breath.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” you snapped, almost slamming the door on him. He threw his hand out and caught it before you could, his thick fingers closing around the edge of it.

“Not any happier about this than you are, Brat,” he spoke through clenched teeth, using the nickname your brother always called you. The name he’d called you for 22 years before he went across the country because of Joel fucking Miller. “But I don’t exactly got another choice.”

He adjusted his leg so you could see it in the light. A knife was embedded there, right where his femoral artery would be.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Can’t exactly go to the clinic with this,” he said. “But you’re dumb enough to take that fuckin’ doctor’s oath seriously so…”

“Calling me dumb probably isn’t the smartest move when you want me to save your goddamn life,” you glared at him.

“I ain’t wrong.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed, opening your door wide and stepping out of the way. He limped inside, going for the couch. “Don’t even think about it, asshole. Kitchen table, if I’ve got to clean your blood off my floor I’m not trying to get it out of the fucking carpet.”

He grimaced but obeyed, heading for the table and sitting down heavily in one of your mismatched wooden chairs. You went to collect what you’d need to - hopefully - keep him from fucking dying in your apartment and came back, propping his injured leg up on another chair before pulling a third one up alongside him. You put a towel down below him and took your scissors and cut his jeans, exposing his leg where the knife was sticking out.

“At least you weren’t dumb enough to pull it out,” you muttered, examining the wound. “Know how big the knife is?”

“Big,” Joel said wryly.

You glared at him.

“I meant in inches. Not that you men can judge inches worth a damn…”

“I can,” he said. “And it’s about 8 inches. Trust me, I know.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he did.

“Alright,” you said, actually meeting his gaze. His eyes were oddly gentle, a softness to them that made your heart ache a little when you looked at him too long. “I’m going to do what I can here and I have my shit set up and ready to go but if this thing shredded your femoral artery, you’re going to bleed out and die in just a few minutes and there won’t be a goddamn thing I can do about it. I’m as prepared as I can be for a heavy bleed but if you’re really fucked you’d need someone to take a blood vessel from one part of your body and use it to patch the femoral and it should go without saying that I can’t do that in my fucking kitchen. I could put a tourniquet on you and try to get you to the clinic but…”

“FEDRA would just finish me off,” he nodded. “I get it.”

You paused for a second, looking at him.

“I really will do everything I can,” you said, actually earnestly speaking to him for a change. You felt… bad for him. For Joel fucking Miller. You didn’t like the guy but you didn’t want him dead.

You pulled on gloves.

“Look, Brat, I know this is a win/win for you, alright?” He smirked a little. “Either I owe you or I’m dead and you don’t have to fuckin’ deal with me anymore. Promise I won’t haunt you if I finally got myself killed, OK?”

You nodded and tried to wrap your head around the idea that Joel fucking Miller might be dead at your kitchen table in a few minutes.

“Anything you want me to tell people if…”

“Don’t have much I’m leavin’ behind,” he said, actually serious now. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him be serious before. He sighed. “Been fine with dyin’ for a while. About time it caught up with me. Just tell Tess and Tommy I’m sorry for fuckin’ ‘em over. Sorry to you, too, for draggin’ you into it. Don’t have anyone else.”

You nodded again. Why was Joel making you feel bad for him? Making you think of him like a person instead of some asshole now? When it’d be on you to keep his stupid ass alive?

“Right.”

You cracked your neck and loosened your body up before putting a hand on his bare thigh. His skin was warm and soft, his leg muscled and thick.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch,” you warned him. “But you need to stay completely still, otherwise something that wasn’t already fucked up might get fucked up. I’ve got to pull the blade out as straight as I can, try to get it to go the same path it went in, OK?”

“OK,” he nodded, his large hands going to the base of his thigh, like he was going to hold himself still. He looked at you again. “Meant what I said. It’s really… it’s alright if it kills me, OK? Don’t want you to feel like shit if it does. Not your fault.”

“Yeah, I’d hardly feel like shit for taking you out, Miller,” you rolled your eyes even though the idea of him dying mad your stomach turn. Maybe it was because it would be on your shoulders and you didn’t want anyone to die because of you. Even Joel fucking Miller, the man you hated more than anyone else. The thought that part of him wanted to die made your chest tight. You took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

You pulled the knife out as quickly as you could while also holding it steady - which, as it happens, wasn’t all that quick. Joel hissed in pain but, to his credit, didn’t move.

There was a fair bit of blood once the blade was freed but it wasn’t a full-blown arterial bleed. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good news, you’re not going to bleed out on my kitchen floor,” you set the knife down and grabbing gauze, putting pressure on the wound. “You missed your femoral artery. I still need to get this bleeding to slow down before I can stitch you up and you’ll need to take it easy for a bit but you’ll be fine.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he smirked a little but still. He looked relieved.

“You’re a constant disappointment so I’m used to it.”

He snorted and relaxed back into his seat, crossing his arms, watching you hold the gauze to his leg. His bare, strong leg. You swallowed.

“Hear from your brother at all?” He asked.

You looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Every now and then.”

“He doin’ OK?”

“Fine, from what I can tell,” you replied. “Doesn’t have anyone giving him a steady stream of fucking drugs which I’m sure helps.”

He shrugged.

“Demand is demand, Brat,” he said. “Don’t blame the supply.”

“Want me to go back in and cut your femoral artery?” You snapped. “Because I can make that happen.”

“Honey, I don’t think you could cut the femoral artery of someone who was tryin’ to kill you if you had the chance,” he smirked. “Not gonna do it to me. You should work on that.”

You just rolled your eyes and changed out the gauze.

“In just a second I’m going to get to stab you over and over with a needle,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Think I’ll see just how close together I can get these stitches. Can’t wait.”

It didn’t take long for the bleeding to slow and you did, indeed, stab Joel fucking Miller 20 times in the leg with a needle.

“There,” you said, looking over your handiwork. “Looks like you’ll live to ruin lives another day.”

“Livin’ the dream,” there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. You set the needle down and took off your gloves before getting up.

“Alright, you’re not going home tonight,” you said, squatting down so your shoulder was tucked into his underarm. “It’s after curfew, anyway, and I’m not about to let you waste all the trouble I just went through by getting picked up by fucking FEDRA. I’m moving you to the couch and going to set you up so that leg is elevated. You can go home in the morning.”

He nodded and shifted in his chair until part of his weight was on you. He was big, bigger than you really realized, his weight more substantial than you’d expected. He was so broad. You hadn’t been close to him before, had never realized it. He sat heavily on the couch and he hefted his injured leg up as you grabbed some towels to stack below his ankle.

“Comfortable?” You asked, hands on your hips.

“Think there might be a pea under one of these cushions…” You flipped him off with a roll of your eyes. He smiled. “I’m good. Thank you. For… well, all of it. Appreciate it.”

“Yeah well,” you shrugged. “I’ll work on that so next time I can finish you off.”

He smirked.

“Whatever you say, Brat.”

You woke up early but Joel was already gone.

You didn’t see him again until he showed up at your door almost a week later, not long after you got home from a shift at the clinic.

“Who’d you piss off this time?” You asked.

“Just you.”

He held out a book and you frowned and took it. It was Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

“What…”

“Saw you had some of her on your bookshelf there,” he nodded toward it. “But didn’t see that one and it’s the only one I’d fuckin’ heard of… Anyway. Thought you’d like it.”

“I do but…” you turned the book over in your hands. It was a nice copy, with a cloth cover and a ribbon bookmark. It would have cost a small fortune on the black market. You looked up at him. “Why are you giving me this?”

He shrugged.

“Saw it, thought of you. Wanted to say thanks for not killin’ me.”

“You really don’t…”

“I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “See you around, Brat.”

He left while you were still staring at the book.

It was three months before he was back at your door again. You’d read Pride and Prejudice twice since then, disappearing into the story, reluctantly thankful to Joel fucking Miller for the best escape you’d had from the QZ in years.

This time, it was after curfew and he was clutching his arm, soaking wet as it poured rain outside. You just sighed and wordlessly opened your door.

He came in and sat at your kitchen table while you grabbed towels and gave him one.

“Don’t have a knife lodged in there do you?” You asked, grabbing your stash of medical supplies.

“Not this time,” he dried his face and roughly pressed the towel to his hair. “But it’s a nasty cut that hasn’t stopped bleedin’, think I need stitches.”

“Can you take the shirt off?” You asked, going to the kitchen to wash your hands throughly.

“Think so,” he called after you.

You stopped in your tracks when you turned around. The shirt was off and Joel was… fucking beautiful. His chest and arms and shoulders were broad and sculpted, his stomach a little softer and inviting. You wanted to touch him, not as someone treating him but as someone experiencing him, enjoying him. You shook yourself mentally.

He was Joel fucking Miller. You were not going to get turned on by Joel fucking Miller.

“You just love giving me an excuse to stab you repeatedly don’t you?” You said, sitting in the char beside him and pulling on gloves.

“Figured you’d be bored,” he smirked. “Got a big knife if you want to try to take me out this time…”

He nodded to his belt and you looked down instinctively. He did, indeed, have a large knife strapped to his side. You rolled your eyes.

“Sit still while I do this,” you demanded.

“Yes ma’am.”

You disinfected and cleaned the wound before you started stitching it. You could hear Joel grimacing as you did and you tried to ignore just how good his damn arm looked as you worked on it.

“How’s Nathan?” He asked after a minute. You looked away from his wound to glare at him. “What?”

“He’s not here,” you snapped. “You can’t get him involved in your shit, can’t get him running drugs for you again, can’t get him putting his life on the line to feed his damn addiction, you can’t take advantage of his weakness so you can make more goddamn ration cards! So stop fucking asking!”

He was quiet and you went back to stitching.

“S’not why I ask,” he said after a moment.

“Then why do you?” You kept your eyes on your work this time.

“I’m not the one who got him hooked on that shit, you know,” he said, ignoring your question. You scoffed. “It’s true, I’m not. He was hooked well before I met the guy…”

“And how’d that happen?” You asked, harsher than you really meant to be.

“His dealer was a piece of shit,” Joel said. “Asshole named Robert. He knows who’s most vulnerable, who’s desperate, who he can overcharge and drive into debt. Nathan owed him money. A lot of fuckin’ money. He didn’t have it and Robert wasn’t too happy about that. So… I intervened.”

“Intervened?”

Joel shrugged and you glared at him, needle in your fingers.

“Sorry,” he said. “But… Robert’s an asshole but he’s smart enough to know that I’d fuck up him and his guys. So, I made him back off. But Nathan still needed the drugs so…”

“So he took up with you,” you finished for him, making the last stitch and tying it off. You cut the thread and sat back in your chair.

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel said, titling his arm to look at your work. “Wasn’t tryin’ to get him into trouble. Was tryin’ to keep him out of it. Seemed like a good kid. Didn’t deserve to get killed because some asshole was takin’ advantage.”

“And you expect me to believe you?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “But still. You deserved to know. And I do hope your brother’s doin’ OK. I know you think I’m bad news but the Fireflies ain’t exactly the Girl Scouts.”

“Well, nothing is anymore, right?” You took off the gloves and started cleaning up. “Sit tight, I’ll find you a shirt. It’s after curfew because apparently you can’t piss people off at a reasonable time. You can take the couch again.”

“See, Brat, it’s all part of my plan,” he smirked. “Come here too late for you to send me home so I can sleep on your strangely comfortable couch…”

You rolled your eyes and found a shirt your ex-boyfriend had abandoned at your place when you’d broken up. You handed it to him and he went to the couch, not needing your help this time.

“Try not to sleep on the side with the stitches,” you said. “That should go without saying but…”

“But you think I’m an idiot?” He asked, brows raised, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Something like that,” you said, turning to to go bed yourself. But you paused, doubling back. He’d settled back in on the couch, his uninjured arm behind his head. He frowned at you, questioningly. “Thanks. For the book, I mean. Hadn’t read Pride and Prejudice since before the outbreak but it was nice, reading it again. Though I think I’d rather you owe me a favor than get the book…”

“Still owe you the favor,” he said and then looked at the spot on his arm where the stitches were. “Two, now.”

You smiled a little. At Joel fucking Miller.

“Good to know.”

He was gone by morning.

The next time you were able to talk to Nathan via radio, you asked how he’d meet Joel. You asked about Robert.

“Oh yeah,” he said, as though this should have been obvious to you. “Think I owe that guy my life, honestly…”

“He was selling you drugs that could have killed you, Nathan,” you wished he were about 2,000 miles closer so you could grab him and shake him.

“It’s all relative,” he said. “He sure as shit didn’t do to me what Robert did, I’ll say that.”

Joel fucking Miller.

What if your brother was only alive because of Joel fucking Miller?

It was two months before you saw him again.

This time, it was at the clinic. He was sitting in one of the small triage areas, just a curtain around the bed and you sighed when you saw him. He smirked.

“What’d you do now?” You asked, looking down at the chart.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m here to lie about symptoms so you’ll give me antibiotics to take back to Tommy. Think an injury of his got infected outside. Don’t want anyone lookin’ to closely at it.”

“Jesus, Miller,” you sighed. “Alright, what symptoms do you supposedly have?”

He rattled them off and you nodded along before sighing again.

“Let me get you antibiotics,” you said. “It’s a miracle none of you have fucking died, you realize that.”

“And I’m sure that’s a big disappointment for you,” he smirked.

“Every goddamn day.”

You went to the medicine cupboard and unlocked it, grabbing the pills you needed before closing it again when a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and ripped you around, so fast it made your head spin. You recognized the man standing so close to you that you could smell him. He’d been in the clinic a few times over the last few weeks, always complaining of pain. Everyone turned him away for drug seeking behavior but you could tell, the last time he was here, that he was getting desperate.

“Look you little bitch,” his large hand went for your throat before you had a chance to even fully realize what was happening, your eyes going wide. He thrust you back against the cabinet with a thud, knocking your head against it so hard that you felt your brain rattle in your skull. You dropped the bottle in your hand and it clattered to the ground as you instinctively clawed at his hand. He tightened his grip. “I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried asking. You’re going to give me what I fucking need or I’ll kill you and get it from someone else, understand?”

He squeezed tighter, your vision starting to get spotty. You couldn’t breathe and it’s not like you’d taken a deep breath before diving in the deep end of your parents’ pool. You wouldn’t last long without being able to breathe. Panic flared, acute and sharp, and your body scrambled to fight, to kick and scratch and punch to get a breath but it wasn’t working, he wasn’t letting you go. Your head was getting light and your vision was already narrowing when, suddenly the hand disappeared.

You collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air and looked up to see Joel on top of the man, a knee in his chest as he brought his fist down on his face again and again and again. The man tried to get his hands up to protect his face, then tried to land a hit on Joel but neither worked. Joel was almost eerily quiet as he pummeled the man, grunting with every blow, an almost unhinged look on his face.

“Joel!” You tried to yell for him as you pushed yourself to your hands and knees. Your body felt so weak compared to just a few minutes before. You couldn’t really talk, an unfamiliar, raspy sound the only thing that left you. You tried again, anyway. “Joel!”

You managed to make it to your feet and caught Joel’s elbow as he pulled it back one more time and he stopped, turning to look at you with that mad look on his face but it vanished the second he saw you. He dropped his arms, panting for breath, his eyes running over your face and neck. You pulled him back from the man as a nurse ran over to start examining Joel’s victim.

One of your hands went to your throat, cradling it gently and feeling for damage and you pointed to the pill bottle with the other one.

“Should get out of here,” you managed, though it sounded more like a garbled mess than actual words. But he seemed to understand. He picked up the bottle and gave you a last, lingering look before leaving the clinic.

One of doctors looked you over and said you’d be fine eventually, you just needed to rest. They offered you some pain pills - the same ones Nathan had been hooked on, the same ones the man today had been willing to kill you for - and you turned them down, just trudging home and collapsing on the couch when you got there.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been attacked. It was the end of the world, after all, it had happened a few times before. But it was the first time you had the feeling that you were about to die. Even when you’d been held at knife point for ration cards you’d had the feeling that everything was going to be fine. Yeah, you’d be short on some ration cards that day but you’d be fine.

Not this time.

You tried to relax, drifting in and out of consciousness on your couch, trying not to think of the man with his hand around your throat. The way his fingers had bruised you, the way his palm had crushed into your windpipe. The ruddy tone of his skin, the desperate and angry look in his eyes, the stink of his sweat. It was all there, every time you closed your eyes and relaxed too much it was there.

You’d just drifted off again when there was a knock on your door. You groaned and forced yourself off the couch and opened the door, your hand cradling your throat. You were half expecting it to be a coworker, coming by to check in on you.

Instead, it was Joel.

“Don’t try n’talk if it’s gonna hurt your throat,” he said. You frowned a little at him. He had a canvas bag over one shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“Not going to try and finish the job right?” You asked, voice strained and scratchy.

He rolled his eyes.

“Move, Brat.”

You made a face but stepped aside, anyway. Joel went past you to your kitchen, put the bag on the counter and started rifling through your cabinets. You followed him, frowning.

“What…” your hand was still against your throat, voice raw.

“Will you go sit down?” He gave you a look over his shoulder before going back to sifting through your things. “Jesus Christ…”

You threw your hands up but obeyed, sitting at your kitchen table and watching as Joel finally found what he was looking for. A pot, apparently. He put it on your stove and turned it on before going into the bag and pulling out a jar that he emptied into the pot. He stirred it for a moment before going into your freezer and finding the ice. He put some handfuls into a towel and came to the table, pulling out a chair and moving it so it was right in front of yours. He sat down and was so close to you that his thigh slotted between yours and you just sat there, looking at him, eyes wide.

“Move your hand,” he nodded toward it and you realized you were still holding your neck. You obeyed and he gently took your chin in his large hand - his knuckles cut and bruised - adjusting your head so he could examine your throat. “Damn, Honey, he got you real good.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Hush,” he ordered. “Hold your head still.”

He released your chin and lightly trailed his callused fingers over your throat, his touch lingering over where you knew was probably damaged and bruised. He took the ice in the towel and pressed it delicately to your skin.

“See, you do know how to listen,” he said. “Even does you good every now and then.”

You scoffed but you took the ice bundle from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. He sat back a little, his eyes running over the rest of you, his leg still between yours, the other brushing the outside of your thigh.

“He get you anywhere else?” He asked eventually. You shook your head a little. Joel nodded. “Good.”

“Why are you here?” You asked, voice a little clearer than it had been the last time you spoke.

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said. “And I owed you.”

“Why don’t I get to pick the favors?” You glared at him.

“I’ll still owe ya,” he shook his head a little. “Dyin’ to know what you’d cash it in on.”

“You and me both.”

It didn’t take long for the soup he brought to be done and he poured you a bowl of it. He got you both glasses of beer, also from the bag he’d brought. Your eyes went a little wide at your first bite of soup.

“What?” He frowned.

“This is good,” you said, going back for another bite.

Joel laughed.

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not totally useless.”

“How’s your hand?” You asked, looking at his knuckles. He flexed his fingers for a moment.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “Had worse.”

You considered him for a moment. He frowned.

“What.”

“Why’d you do it?”

His frown deepened.

“Do what?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Save me. And beat the shit out of that guy. You hate me. Why’d you do it? Was it just that you didn’t want to lose out on the person who will stitch you up in the middle of the night or…”

“Don’t hate you,” he said, taking a sip of beer.

You scoffed.

“You hate me,” you said, taking another bite of soup. The weirdly good soup. “I know you hate me.”

“How do you know I hate you.”

“Because I hate you,” you said, though you were starting to think that wasn’t true anymore.

“Yeah, noticed that,” he smirked a little.

“You call me brat…”

“Nate called you brat,” he replied. “And you are a brat. Seemed appropriate.”

“You’re never nice to me,” you said. “Well, except right now…”

“You’re never nice to me,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to make your hatin’ me something that wasn’t fun for you, figured I should be mean back.”

“Hating you isn’t for fun you dick,” you glared at him.

“It’s not?” He looked a little amused by it all. “What’s it for then?”

“It’s for ruining my brother’s life!” You dropped the spoon into the bowl with a clatter and set the ice pack down with a little too much force. “For getting him mixed up in your fucking smuggling operation and getting him involved with the fucking Fireflies and making it so he left town and I’m just left here, alone! I’m alone, I have no one and nothing and it’s all your fucking fault!”

You weren’t entirely sure when you started crying but you were. The overwhelming, gasping, choking kind of crying that you had to fight to breathe through. You could feel it in your chest, the pressure of the tears building up behind your eyes, every pain you’d suffered the past year welling up and bursting free at once, all of it directed at Joel.

“Oh, Honey,” he leaned forward and gently took your face in his hand, drying your cheek with his thumb. His legs were on either side of yours. He delicately pulled you against him, your face going to his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, cradling you securely against his broad body. “I’ve got you, it’s OK…”

You stayed against him like that for a long time. Longer than you wanted to admit to. But it felt nice to be there in Joel’s arms. You didn’t have anyone here, didn’t really have friends outside of work. Your ex-boyfriend had broken things off a few months back and the idea of dating again the QZ sounded hellish so you just hadn’t done it. Joel, in that moment, felt like someone you had. He was someone that made it so you weren’t totally alone.

After a while, you’d calmed a bit, your tears slowing and your breaths coming easier. You kept your face buried in Joel’s shoulder, shifting a little so your nose was pressing against his neck.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you said, voice thick and rough from the tears and your injury. “Why’d you save me?”

He sat back from you ever so slightly, his hands taking you by the shoulders and guiding you back up so you were looking him in the eye. You wiped your nose on the back of your hand.

“You might hate me but I never hated you,” he said, his eyes oddly soft and earnest. “Not once.”

“Joel,” you said quietly. His hand went from your shoulder to your cheek, his fingers threading into your hair. You were suddenly, acutely aware of how little distance there was between the two of you. It seemed like too much.

He slowly, cautiously moved closer to you, his eyes going from your own to your lips and back again but he stopped just short of kissing you. Like he was waiting for you to close the distance, asking your permission.

You gave it.

You pressed your mouth to his and it was delicate at first, your lips brushing his, feather light but electric. Then, Joel’s grip on you got stronger, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you. You let out a little moan, an ache growing between your legs.

Joel released your face and his hands traveled to your waist and he adjusted as he pulled you closer so that your legs went around him and you were suddenly in his lap. You could feel his hard length through his jeans and you realized that he hadn’t been joking about knowing the size of the knife. You groaned a little, grinding your hips down against him, and Joel moaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down and around your back, fingers spread wide over you.

“You sure about this?” He asked, peppering kisses along your jawline between words.

“Yes,” you panted, needy. “I want you…”

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathed. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

His mouth reached the damaged skin of your throat and he delicately kissed each bruise on your neck, his lips warm and soft. His fingers lightly traced your bruises.

“He still alive?” He pulled back from you enough to look up at you from your position on his lap. You draped your arms over his shoulders and nodded. He frowned. “Shoulda killed him for touchin’ you…”

“Not worth it,” you said, kissing him again, harder this time. His hands moved to your front, unbuttoning your shirt.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his mouth close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke. “Promise you, you are.”

He nudged your arms down and slid your shirt off, pulling away from you to look down at your half naked body.

“Fuck, Honey,” he groaned, his large hands coming to your stomach and spreading warm and wide against you, moving over you, skimming over your skin with his rough fingers. He pulled you tight to him as his hands went for your bra clasp, unhooking it as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. He took it off, too, his hands finding your breasts, cradling them in his large palms, his thick thumbs brushing your nipples. “Jesus Christ, got no right lookin’ this fuckin’ good…”

He kissed over the swell of flesh before he found your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, licking the tip with his tongue, making you moan, your back arching into him. He did the same to your other breast, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your back like he couldn’t get you close enough. When he released you, he looked up at you, panting and desperate.

“Lemme take you to bed,” his hands slipped down your back to your hips, pulling you down firmly against his hard cock. “Need inside you…”

You just nodded quickly and his hands moved to your ass, holding onto you from below as he stood with you in his arms. You let out a little yelp as he did before he carried you down the hall to your bedroom.

He lay you down so gently on the bed it was almost shocking, kissing you deeply as he did. You fumbled with his shirt until it was unbuttoned and you could slide it off his broad shoulders and cast it aside. Joel moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them and hooking his fingers around them and your panties, pulling them down your body together, crawling back and kissing down your body as he did.

“Oh Honey,” he said once your pants were on the floor and he was kneeling between your thighs. He was looking down at your dripping slit. He spread your legs a little wider, opening the core of you to his gaze, before he ran a single finger over your folds. He left it against your clit, giving it the gentlest pressure. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. You achin’ for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” you were practically squirming below him, your whole body raw and needy, the heat in you burning. “Please Joel…”

“Gonna make you come first, Honey,” his finger started working in slow circles, the pressure growing. “Make sure you’re ready for me. Get this pussy so fuckin’ wet for me.”

He sank a thick finger inside you, moving his thumb to your clit, and he moaned as you whimpered at his touch.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” the hand not working your pussy went to your lower stomach, his fingers spread out wide against your skin. “Jesus Christ, you feel incredible, fuckin’ incredible and that’s just my finger, fuck…”

He worked you harder and you rocked your hips against him, your hands going to your breasts and holding them, squeezing them.

“Holy shit,” he moaned at the sight. “Fuck, need you to come Honey, need you to come for me so I can get inside you, come on baby.” He added another finger and hooked them up into the softest part of your core, making your breath catch in your throat. You started tightening around him, the heat in you growing. “There she is, can feel it, come on Honey, come all over my fingers, you can do it. Come for me, don’t make me beg for it, baby, need you too fuckin’ bad…”

You came, gasping his name when you did, your hold on your breasts relaxing as your whole body throbbed with your release.

“Fuck, there we go,” he worked you through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. “Doin’ so good coming on these fingers Honey, getting yourself all ready for my cock. Gonna take such good care of you, baby, promise I will.”

Your body went slack and he smiled and almost devilish smile, sliding his fingers from your body and sucking them clean before he opened his pants and took them off. He climbed between your legs, crawling up your pliant form, kissing a trail up your body until his lips were on yours and you could feel his thick length brushing your dripping core.

“What if I want you to?” You panted, your hands running over his bare back.

“Want me to what?” He asked.

“Beg for it.”

He smiled a little.

“Please Honey,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Please, let me inside you. I’m past fuckin’ want you, baby, I’m past needing you. I swear not havin’ you is gonna fuckin’ kill me. I will beg you all damn night if you want, I’ll beg you all damn year if it’ll make you give yourself to me.”

You laughed softly, your fingers twisting in his hair as you pulled him closer.

“Guess you should fuck me then,” you smiled before you kissed him.

He felt as desperate and needy as he sounded, his thick head catching on your entrance before he pushed into you in one long, firm stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, feeling every inch of his cock as he opened you to him, the tip of him finding a place inside you that you didn’t think anyone had reached before. You were so exquisitely full it was like your body had been holding space for him your whole life. It was something entirely new, so good you were almost happy the world ended just so you could find a feeling like this. You looked up at him, your eyes wide, wondering if he felt it too.

“Fuck,” he panted, holding himself within you as your body adjusted to taking him, his eyes searching yours. “Jesus Christ, I’ve never… fuck, Honey, I ain’t gonna last long, you feel too good, too goddamn good.”

“Joel,” you breathed. It was all you could think to say, every thought that wasn’t him gone from your head. Your pussy was already starting to tighten around him, just from the feel of his cock inside you. “Fuck, please…”

“You already about to come baby?” He asked as he started to move inside you, slow and heavy at first. You moaned and nodded quickly. He thrust into you, hard and firm. “Fuck, fuck, not gonna last when you come, can I come in you, need to come inside you, fuck Honey I need to come inside you.”

You just nodded again even though you weren’t on birth control and you sure as fuck didn’t know what was happening between the two of you outside of this bed and the fact that you knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing. It couldn’t be, not when he felt this good, like he’d been made to fuck you and you’d been made to take him into yourself. You wanted him to leave part of himself inside you, plant it deep so you could feel him there all warm and wet tomorrow.

With your nod, he started fucking you - really fucking you. His cock was so deep when he pushed into you you could feel the thick weight of him pressing up against your skin, like you’d be able to see him inside your body if there was enough space between the two of you to look. He pulled back almost totally, leaving just his head inside your grasping hole before fucking back into you, every stroke hard and desperate and your nails sank into his back as your hips rose up to meet his on every thrust. You never wanted him to leave your body, wanted him to make a home deep inside you so you could always be this full, this complete. His body worked your clit and your pussy got tighter and tighter around him, your head swimming with the pressure of it all, your body so needy it felt like you might burst.

“Want to come with you,” you whimpered. “Please, come for me Joel, I’m so fucking close, want you to come deep inside me, please…”

“Fuck Honey,” his thrusts stuttered and he groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good, leave this pussy so fuckin’ full of me, fill you up again and again…”

He thrust deep, so deep it almost hurt and you felt him start to pulse inside you. Your hands went to his lower back, pressing him impossibly deeper and you cried out as you came around him, your channel milking his cock, throbbing around him until there was nothing left inside him to give to you.

He collapsed on you as you went limp below him and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he panted for breath. He stayed inside you as his cock softened and you could feel him leaking out of you.

“Holy shit,” he said eventually, kissing your throat and then your chin and then your lips. He kissed you deeper as he slid out of you and lap beside you. You hesitated for a moment but he reached over and pulled you on top of him, so your head was on his chest and your legs were nestled between his own. His cock was wet against your skin and you liked it, the reminder that he’d just been inside of you. “Fuck, Honey…”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. His hand went to your back, tracing up and down your spine.

“Still hate me?” You could hear Joel fucking Miller’s cocky smile on his voice.

“I will if you never fuck me again,” you kissed his chest.

He laughed.

“Don’t gotta worry about that. Even though you still found a way to be a brat during the best goddamn sex I’ve ever had.”

You smirked.

“Would it be the best sex you’ve ever had if I didn’t?”

“Guess not,” he said. “S’it OK if I stay the night? Think we got some shit to talk through but I ain’t got it in me to do it tonight.”

“If you insist,” you teased, pressing yourself a little tighter to him. He held you a little closer. “Night, asshole.”

You said it the way you’d say baby or love. You meant it that way, too.

He laughed a little.

“Night, Brat.”

His voice was soft, like it was when he called you honey. Something told you he meant it that way, too.

#joel miller x female reader #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #enemies to lovers

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teaberrii · 6 months

Text

Bed & Breakfast

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Chapter 1: Let's Start Fresh

“Wow! Who’re those for?”

“Those look expensive. Damn.”

“So romantic!”

You’ve just put your phone into your bag when you walk up to the revolving doors. As soon as you step into the company building, a young woman calls you. She’s standing upright with her hands in front of her. Like all the others working the reception desk, her light purple blouse, dark waistcoat vest, and skirt are free of wrinkles. When you walk up to her, she hands you the large bouquet that’s been grabbing everyone’s attention.

“These came in for you this morning!”

“...Me?” When she glances from the bouquet to you, you force a little smile. She’s probably wondering why you haven’t taken them. “Who are they from?”

“Didn’t say… but”—she points to the card tucked securely in the ribbon holding the bouquet together—”maybe you’ll find out.”

If it’s who you think it’s from, you really don’t want to take it, especially because you have to parade it through your department. You almost sigh in annoyance. Maybe this is what he, your boyfriend of five years today, is after. You won’t be surprised.

You reluctantly take the bouquet from her and head towards the elevators. While waiting along with everyone else, someone comes beside you.

“Oh my.” You recognize that voice anywhere. “What a great way to start the day.” Maybe you should take them off my hands. While that’s what you want to say, instead, you glance at Sampo, your colleague, who asks, “What’s the occasion?”

The elevator doors open, and people flock in. You and Sampo end up standing next to each other. “A celebration,” you say sarcastically.

Sampo looks down and smiles. “Ah… Celebrating an early win?”

You almost roll your eyes. You’ve been working with Sampo for the past two years, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned about him is that the man sees everything as a competition. He jumps at the opportunity to stand out, something you’ve been doing as well. So, it doesn’t come as a surprise that you and he are “competing” for this next big assignment.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

The elevator doors open. While Sampo is kind enough to push past the crowd, you still have to pay extra attention so your bouquet won’t end up smacking into people.

As soon as you arrive in your small office, you walk over to the garbage can. You open it but hesitate to drop the bouquet inside. Eventually, you put it on your desk just as you hear your phone ding with a notification.

When you open it, you frown. It’s your boyfriend who tagged you in a photo of the bouquet on his social media: Happy fifth anniversary, love. I hope you enjoy your office gift <;3. The comments below annoy you even more.

So lucky!

They look expensive…

Wow!!!!

Then, you get a call from the person who you ironically don’t want to hear from.

“Did you enjoy your anniversary gift?”

You put a hand on your hip as you turn. Then, upon seeing some younger colleagues whispering amongst themselves and subtly—but failing—peeking into your office, you walk over and lower the blinds.

“...You really didn’t have to,” you say. “You know I don’t like—”

A loud sigh. "It's our five-year anniversary. Does that not mean anything?"

You frown at the flowers. “You could’ve just given them to me privately instead of—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault for wanting to surprise you?”

“What? I”—you look at the time—”I have a meeting.”

Before your boyfriend can say anything else, you hang up. Then, you pick up your laptop and the flowers, and before you walk out, you drop the bouquet into the trash.

When you arrive at your manager’s office, she looks up and smiles. “Mornin’. News travels fast. Everyone’s been talking about seeing you walk in with a large bouquet.”

“Yeah, well… I was quite surprised myself.”

A soft knock comes at the door, and Sampo walks in. “I’m not late, am I?”

“You’re right on time.” Just as Sampo comes up beside you, Kafka says, “The Xianzhou Star Rail Hotel Project has officially kicked off, and…” She looks at you. “...I want you to head down there to do some market research for our business plan that we’ll present to our stakeholders.”

Sampo looks from you and back to Kafka. Then, without thinking, he asks, “Wait… You’re asking her to go?”

Kafka gives him a look. “I have an assignment for you as well, Sampo. Don’t worry.”

“But—”

Kafka looks at you. “Are you willing to go?”

Without question, you answer, “Of course!”

“It’s not a vacation now,” she jokingly adds. “But, it wouldn’t hurt to also enjoy some scenic views while you’re there. Xianzhou is a beautiful place from what I’ve seen.”

You can't argue there. Xianzhou is a cozy, developed island, that soared to be the number one destination for a holiday resort getaway. With picturesque views of mountains and oceans, hiking trails, national parks, and various tourist attractions, it's no surprise that the company wants to capitalize on this immediately.

“You’re free to go,” Kafka says. Then, she looks at Sampo. “Now, let me tell you about your assignment.”

Sampo’s shoulders fall, and you have to keep yourself from smiling.

When you get back to your office, you almost fist pump the air when your phone buzzes with a message telling you that the birthday cake you ordered is ready for pickup. While today is your fifth anniversary with your boyfriend, it’s also your best friend’s birthday. And, this year, you opt to spend time with her. So, you reserved a table at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city to celebrate. But the unpleasant memory of breaking the news to your boyfriend still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“You’re spending our fifth anniversary with Herta?” he asked.

“We’ve spent the last four anniversaries together,” you said, drying your hair with a towel. You draped it around your neck and looked at him. “What’s wrong with spending it on another weekend instead?”

He frowned as you walked past him to grab a drink from the fridge. “We haven't been spending a lot of time together. Isn’t that a little weird to you?”

No, it wasn’t, but it was because you knew the reason why. You put your drink on the counter. “...Well, I'd rather not spend money on eating out and going to movies all the time. We could be doing something a little more valuable with our time."

You remembered feeling the butterflies and seeing your new relationship through rose-coloured lenses. It was a wonderful feeling that made you feel on cloud nine. But, it wasn’t until you entered the third year of your relationship that you began focusing more on work and hobbies.

You tried to get him involved, but it was obvious that he wasn’t interested in your new, productive hobbies. He’d still rather be playing games, watching movies, going to exotic places, and eating out. You were tired of entertaining him, and when you didn’t bother hiding it anymore, that was when he started complaining.

“...I want us to relax when we’re together.” He walked up to you, but you crossed your arms and looked away. “Look, we tried… but why can’t we just go back to when we first started?”

“Can you just respect my decision?” you asked. “I’ve already made plans with her.”

“Oh, so now you won’t even discuss things with me anymore?”

“What? No, I—"

"You know what? Forget it." Then, he picked up his keys and left your apartment.

Your eyes wander to the bouquet in the garbage can, and your heart almost soars at the thought of leaving the city. Perhaps this is also a sign, and you jokingly think that you need something more direct than that.

It’s nearly time for lunch when you close your laptop and head out of the office to grab food. You also use the extra time to pick up Herta’s birthday cake. With a warm drink in your hand, the cake in the other, you push open the bakery door, walk outside, and—

Bam!

Your cup flies out of your hand. The cake flies through the air. You reach for the ribbon that holds it together but it’s just out of your reach, and you watch it land with a solid thud on the ground. It's in smithereens… like your heart.

“My cake!”

“Oh, my God!” A girl who looks like she’s in high school almost falls but stumbles her way back up.

You’re on your feet when you see a tall man running up to you.

Suddenly, you feel someone grab you from behind. “C-Could you help me?”

“...Hey.” You turn and see the man up close. His gold-coloured eyes look almost predatory as he stares at you and the girl behind you. His long, white hair is tied into a ponytail. He doesn’t look the slightest out of breath as he takes a step toward the girl behind you. But, you quickly stop him. He shoots you a look. “...Who are you?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you answer. You glance at the teenager behind you. Then, you shoot him a dirty look. “A man chasing a young girl in broad daylight?”

“You have the wrong idea,” he says. “She’s”—he tries to walk around you, but you stop him again. He sighs and puts a hand on his hip—”she’s my cousin.”

“No! I… I’m not!” The girl grabs your arms and lowers her head as if using you as a shield.

“I don’t have time for this,” the man says through gritted teeth, and he reaches for her.

“She clearly doesn’t want to go with you,” you snap, slapping his hand away.

“Lady, as I said, you have the wrong idea.” You hear the girl quietly thank you from behind before running off. “...Hey!” Before the man can give chase, you block his path. He frowns. “Do you think you’re being a good civilian right now? You don’t know anything.” He sighs in frustration and is about to walk around you when you easily grab his phone out of his pocket. He turns. “...What are you doing?”

You scoff. “You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t go to the police. Now. why don’t you be a good civilian and pay for the damage you’ve done?” You point to the spoiled cake on the ground. “And then I’ll give you back your phone.”

“Are you serious?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

He puts a hand on his hip and notices the freshly spilled drink. “Do you want me to buy you a drink as well?”

You cross your arms and nod toward the bakery. “...Go.”

Looking a little defeated, he turns and walks into the bakery just as you glance at your watch. Great. Now, you’re going to be late.

The bell chimes once he opens the door. As soon as the woman at the counter sees him, her face brightens. “Jing Yuan! What brings you to the city?”

Upon hearing her name, the teenager looked up from her phone. She put her phone in her pocket as Jing Yuan sat next to her.

"...Uncle told me you haven’t been home,” he said.

"Because I don't want to go home," she muttered. Then, she faced him. "Can I come to stay with you? Please? Xianzhou will definitely take my mind off things."

“You know you’re always welcome. But, shouldn’t you be preparing for your college entrance exams?”

“...It’s because I’m preparing for them that I need to get away from home.” She sighed loudly and leaned back. “They still don’t support my decision.”

Jing Yuan raised a brow. “...Of going abroad for university?”

She stood angrily. “They’re so annoying! Why can’t they just let me make my own decisions?”

“What reason did you give them?” When she looked at her feet, Jing Yuan had his answer. “Are you still seeing that guy?”

“He has a name, you know.”

Jing Yuan sighed. “What other reason did you give them besides you'll be going to the same university as him?”

“It’s a good school!” She spun around. “If I get in, I bet I’ll be making a heck of a lot more than you are and your little bed and breakfast business.” When she failed to get a reaction out of him, she quickly sat. “...I can dream.”

“They’re not against you going. It’s why you’re going that they’re concerned about.” Before she could retaliate, Jing Yuan continued, “What do you want to study? Do you have a plan?”

Silence.

Then, Jing Yuan kindly said her name. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it on a boy.”

She stood again. “They didn’t need to be so harsh about it,” she muttered.

“They’re just worried about you.”

“...I still don’t wanna go home.”

Then, she began walking away, but Jing Yuan caught up to her. “Where are you going?”

Shrugging off his hand, she said, “I just wanna be alone.”

“At least tell me where you’re going.”

“So you can report back to Mom and Dad? No thanks.”

Jing Yuan knew his much younger cousin had always been… independent. But, she was really testing his patience. He firmly grabbed her arm, startling her.

“...You’re coming home.”

“N-No!”

Jing Yuan turned for just a second but he felt a sharp pain on his arm that forced him to loosen his grip. His cousin jumped at the opportunity and made a run for it.

“I’m taking care of some personal matters and visiting a few friends,” Jing Yuan says, walking up to the counter. “...I need a birthday cake.” Just then, another worker comes out with a freshly baked cake. “I’ll take that one.”

When Jing Yuan walks out, he sees you staring at your phone.

“Your cake,” he says, and you quickly look up.

You take it from him and give back his phone. “...That was fast.” As soon as Jing Yuan takes his phone from you, you say, “But, may I remind you your actions can be criminal.”

Jing Yuan’s phone dings with a message just as he says, “I’d rather not explain.”

He turns, but just before he walks off, you say, “Wait.” Jing Yuan turns with a frown. You walk up to him and pat his shoulder. “The spoiled one is yours now. Let’s keep the streets tidy, shall we?”

Then, you walk past him, and he quietly scoffs as his phone goes off. As soon as he answers it, he hears, “Boss! Guess what!”

“You sound like you just won the lottery, Pom.”

“Well”—a chuckle—”close enough, I suppose. I’m happy to say that we’re completely booked for the over the next few months! I just received our last reservation a few minutes ago.”

Jing Yuan smiles. “Why’re you so happy? It means more work.”

“Yeah, but we get more money.”

Jing Yuan sighs, looks around at the mess, and mutters, “Too bad money can’t make all of your problems disappear.”

“What’s wrong?”

Jing Yuan picks up your styrofoam cup and tosses it into the trash. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

◆◆◆

That evening, you and Herta are celebrating her birthday with champagne and a five-star meal. She’s all smiles when you tell her about the flying birthday cake incident earlier today.

“Wait… So, like, my very expensive birthday cake was picked out by a random man who’s kind of hot?”

You frown at how she twisted your words. “He was chasing a girl who looked like she was in high school.”

Herta shrugs. “Kids lie all the time to get out of trouble. Might’ve been a misunderstanding.” She finishes the rest of her champagne. “Anyway, my birthday aside, we also have to celebrate you beating Sampo.”

“It wasn’t a competition!”

“So, you say, but I see that smile. Just admit that you’re happy that you got the big important assignment instead of him.”

You pour your friend more champagne. “All right, fine. I’m damn happy that I got it.” Then, you click your glasses together.

“That’s more like it!” After taking a long sip, you set your glass down. Herta does the same and says, “So, tell me more about it. You’re going to Xianzhou, right?”

You nod. “Kafka already booked me a place to stay.”

When you got back to the office later that day, Kafka had called you in. Then, she told you she booked you a room at The Knights Bed and Breakfast, the hottest and trendiest place to stay in Xianzhou. You did some research and discovered that they were receiving raving reviews and were featured in many holiday destinations from big publications. And, when you checked out their website, they didn't disappoint. You'd almost forgotten you were going for work and not for vacation.

“She managed to get the last spot,” you continue.

"Ooh, it's like you're infiltrating the enemy," Herta jokes, "while getting a mini, free vacation." A waiter comes by, and you wave him down for another bottle of champagne. "How're things with the boyfriend?" A small chuckle. "He must be upset at me for stealing you today."

“...He’ll get over it.”

“...Is everything okay?”

After telling her about the little fight over the phone in your office today, you ask, “Is it selfish of me to say that I don’t think he sees where I’m coming from?”

Herta sighs softly. “A good surprise only works if it’s a wanted surprise…” Then, she goes quiet and looks down as if mulling something. When she looks at you again, she says, “...So, you don’t think you’ll marry him?”

“Marriage?” you ask incredulously. “No way!” That’s when you notice Herta slightly fidgeting, and you narrow your eyes. “...Why do you ask?”

“Er… well…” Herta sighs as if defeated. “The truth is, he came to talk to me last weekend… And he’s thinking of asking you to marry him.”

Your heart freezes over. Then, picking up your glass, you say, “Well, that’s not going to happen. Not when things are definitely not what they used to be.”

A waiter walks past your table to the bar where a tall man with a fair complexion has a half-empty beer in front of him. He's scrolling through his phone when he sees a diamond ring around a finger.

Congratulations!!

OH MY GOD!

Wishing both of you happiness!

Jing Yuan shouldn’t be surprised to see congratulatory messages on his ex-wife’s remarriage on his social media. They still have mutual friends. But the little he’s heard about her relationship, he can’t ignore the hunch that this marriage isn’t as simple as it should be. But it’s none of his business, and he has no interest in hearing more either. Unless, of course, it involves his son.

When he feels someone swing his arm around his shoulder, he turns and sees Luocha, one of his best friends.

“Up for another drink?” he asks. Jing Yuan puts his phone away just as Luocha calls for a refill. “So, please tell me more about this woman who scolded you in public today.”

“...You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Luocha smiles. “It sounds like something straight out of a movie. Maybe your rowdy cousin’s secretly a matchmaker.”

Jing Yuan sighs. “Let’s stop talking about this.”

“Still… if she’s really like what you described”—Luocha gently nudges him—“she’s just your type.”

Just then, Blade joins them at the bar.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Luocha says, putting his bottle down after a good drink. “Where’d you head off to, Mr. Popular?”

Blade gives him a deadpan look, and then waves the bartender over for a drink. Jing Yuan notices three girls looking disapprovingly at Blade in the far corner of the room. He doesn’t need to guess that Blade very obviously turned them down.

“We were just talking about you,” Luocha says cheekily.

“Were you?” Blade asks. “Is it about you paying for drinks this time, Doctor?”

“Oh, but if you insist.”

“Blade?”

The men turn around, and Jing Yuan nearly drops his beer upon seeing you. You, however, don’t look as surprised to see him.

“Friends of yours?” Luocha asks, looking from Blade to you and your friend.

“I’m his co-worker,” your friend answers. “Name’s Herta.” Then, she glances at you and then at Jing Yuan. “And… apparently these two also know each other.”

Then, before Luocha can stop himself, he says, “Wait… Jing Yuan knows women?”

“...He sure does, considering he chased one today,” you mutter.

Jing Yuan gives you a look. “Still on my case about that, are you?”

Luocha looks from you to Jing Yuan and back to you. “Wait… She was the woman you were talking about? The hot-headed, stubborn woman who wouldn’t let you catch a break?” Jing Yuan almost hit his friend.

“Hot-headed, huh?” You’re frowning now with your arms crossed.

Blade, though amused, shows no sign of it on his face. Instead, he says, “...I heard it was your birthday, Herta.”

“That’s right. Wow. Don’t tell me Professor Blade is really wishing lil ‘ol me a happy birthday.”

Blade nods towards an empty table. “Stick around, and maybe I will.”

You and Jing Yuan meet eyes, but before you look away, he says, “Looks like you’re getting that drink after all.”

Suddenly, you hear someone say your name.

You freeze when you see your boyfriend walk up to you. Herta looks just as surprised.

“...What… What are you doing here?” you finally ask.

Your boyfriend shoots the three men a look before turning to you. "I wanted to surprise you and Herta… but… What are you doing?”

“I—”

“Today is our anniversary,” your boyfriend interrupts. “I get that you want to celebrate with Herta, but it’s obvious you drank and now you’re flirting with other men?” He attempts to grab your hand, but you quickly move out of his reach.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you sternly say. “I’m here with Herta, and—”

“Then, what’s this?”

“It really isn’t what it looks like,” Herta says. “These are my co-worker’s friends, and we just came over to say hi.”

You briefly close your eyes and take a small, subtle breath just as Luocha says, "It's true."

Then, you hear your boyfriend say desperately, “Can you just please come home?”

You’re aware of the stares you’re attracting. Some people are looking at you like you’re the bad guy, adding to the exhaustion you already feel. Your boyfriend takes your hand, and you let him. But then, you look him in the eyes, pull your hand back, and say, “...I’m going home. But not with you.”

And then you walk away.

Jing Yuan watches you turn the corner just as Herta and your boyfriend hurry after you.

“What was that?” Luocha finally asks when the three of you are out of sight.

“...Something we shouldn’t have seen, no doubt,” Blade adds flatly.

Then, Jing Yuan calls for another beer.

◆◆◆

“...Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Herta asks as you’re now a short distance away from the restaurant.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure. “Drive safe.”

“I’ll take her back,” your boyfriend says.

“All right.” Herta walks a few steps but turns back. “Text me when you’re home.”

You nod, give her a small wave, and she walks off.

You’re about to call for a taxi when your boyfriend suddenly grabs your arm and spins you to face him.

“...Care to explain what that was all about?”

You put your hands in your pockets. “What was what all about?”

“You’re going home but not with me?”

“What’s wrong with that statement?”

Your boyfriend exhales sharply. “Did I do something to upset you? What’s wrong with you?”

“...Did you talk to Herta last week… about wanting to get married?”

“Is that what’s causing the attitude problem here?” Your boyfriend puts a hand in his pocket. “Look, I know you told me before that you aren’t ready for marriage and you didn’t want to get married. But”—his shoulders fall—“we’ve been together for five years. Didn’t your opinion change?”

Where is this going?

“No,” you say flatly. “I’m still not ready, and I don’t know if I ever will be. It’s not something I’m thinking about.”

“Because it’s not a priority to you, is that it?”

You frown. “Because I want to live the way I want. And right now, marriage is not something I want. But it looks like it’s a big deal for you.”

"We've known each other since high school. We pretty much grew up together. What we have… It's what most people dream about! Do you remember when I made you breakfast in bed? Took you to the ocean to see the stars? Booked an expensive hotel so we could relax on our days off? Is this about me not doing well enough?"

“...I remember,” you say calmly. “I remember all of those things. You made me breakfast in bed when I was sick, but you wanted to get that perfect selfie of me eating and share it with all of our friends… including my mom. We went to see the stars… stayed at an expensive hotel… You made sure to share our moments with our closest friends. At first, I didn’t think much about it, but everything that you do for me… Why does it have to be under the eyes of other people?”

“I… I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I just want to show people how much I love you.”

“...You love me?”

“Of course I do!”

You force a little smile. “Do you know what I like to do after a long day at work? What I do when I’m feeling down?”

“You always come home so late these days! You used to game a lot. But now…” He looks a little lost. “...Now, you just…” A sigh. “See? This is what I miss. We used to have so much fun together.” Then, after a small pause, he says, “I miss the old you.”

Anyone can see it in your eyes. The look of giving up. Letting go.

“...And I want her to come back.”

That is the final straw.

“This isn’t going to work anymore.” A small pause. “...We should break up.”

“Break up?” he almost shouts. “Why? Just because I couldn’t answer some measly question? We’ve been together for five years! You’re just going to throw that all away?”

“What’s the point of continuing something that isn’t going to work?”

“I’ll do better,” he pleads. “I promise. Just give me another chance. I’ll listen this time.”

“Just like how you said you would a few months back?”

“That’s—”

You sigh. “Stop wasting your time on me. We aren’t good for each other.” You turn around and wave for a taxi. One drives by, ignoring you, but there’s another one waiting at a red light that you pray will stop for you.

The light turns green and the taxi drives toward you.

“...So, that’s it? After five fucking years together, you’re just going to leave?”

Just before it comes to a full stop, you turn to him and say, “The life you want. The life I want. The people who we’ve become… They don’t work anymore.”

You open the door, but before you close it, your ex stops it with his hand. “Everyone’s going to hate you,” he says bitterly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, it’s me who’s going to get the last laugh.”

You glare at him and force the door closed.

You’re still reeling what had just happened when the driver asks where you’re going. So, you tell him your apartment address, and he drives off.

Just as he passes the restaurant, you see Herta’s co-worker and his two friends. You and Jing Yuan meet eyes, and you face forward, hoping that your exhaustion isn’t written all over your face. But, it is, and he notices. Then, he sees your boyfriend with his hands in his hair with an angry and frustrated look.

“Jing Yuan!” Jing Yuan turns and sees Luocha and Blade at the side of the road with a parked taxi. “You coming?”

As your taxi weaves through the city, it passes by the street where you and your ex had your first kiss and first date. You see your past selves in an embrace but withering away… When you blink, they’ve vanished.

You welcome the silence of your apartment when you open the door. You’re slipping off your coat when you see an old pair of shoes your ex left behind. You walk towards your bathroom but suddenly stop. Then, instead of taking a shower like you’re planning, you immediately grab an empty cardboard box and start filling it with everything you can find that belongs to your ex.

You’re just about finished when you grab your phone to write him a text when you’ll leave his stuff with a mutual friend. You see he’s typing something, but before you can see what it is, you block his number. Then, with a final sigh, you put the box aside, turn on your TV speakers, and up the volume on the jazz before heading into the bathroom for a nice, hot shower.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

End notes:

Aaaand it's finally here!

I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm super excited for the Bermuda Triangle trio that is Blade, Luocha, and Jing Yuan XD No one can survive their deadly charms.

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel

#jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #jingyuan x reader

153 notes · View notes

lithiumfae · 10 months

Text

✰ Charlie From The Cinema Club ✰

i don’t give any description of reader other than her being a woman, i just added this pic because he looks like such a little loser in it 😭 enjoy <3. the smut felt kinda rushed, sorry :( hoping to hear feedback i’m nervous!!!!!

tags: friends to lovers, ooc robbie??????, sub coded charlie, smut, oral sex.

cw: charlie being kind of a 🚩 (he’s like a crazy obsessed bf), all in all alarming behavior if he were to be a real person. so if you’re uncomfortable w that don’t read <3 it’s nothing too bad though don’t worry, just feel like i needed to say that.

💫 — @quicksilversg1rl @roryculkinsgf @doddernix @milsthouqhts

The cliche of being the new girl came with all that one could expect; the questioning glances from curious people couldn’t wait to see if their first impression was indeed accurate, along with the rumors about the “real” reason she moved towns, and of course which clique was going to take her in.

The cinema club was always looking for new members but the old members tried to steer clear from engaging with anyone that seemed like they had the potential to screw things up. For various reasons but mainly because even though they were a level under the glee club, they were quite selective. Not just anyone was allowed to enter their carefully crafted ecosystem.

Voice traveled fast after she arrived at Woodsboro. The news reaches Charlie’s ears a few days before the school year started. Robbie acting as more of a member of the gossip club also known as the cheerleaders than the cinema club, called him an uneventful Tuesday night.

“Fresh meat,” he said.

Immediately Charlie wanted to laugh. Robbie tended to pretend like he was an expert when it came to women, like he knew how to get girls when that couldn’t be furthest from reality.

“Fresh meat,” Charlie mocked him, making his voice sound nasally. “It’s a girl man, she’s not gonna be too interested in whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

“What? Like you’re a fucking pussy magnet or something.”

“At least I don’t try and fail to get some,” the bickering continued.

Robbie insulted him some more before sighing.

✄

English class.

Having been sentenced by his undying love for Kirby to sit in front of her for years, he found himself yet again listening to her flirting with God knows who via phone call. Jill sat next to him, smiling at her and wiggling her eyebrows to match Kirby's smirk.

He was in the middle of letting out the most eye watering yawn of his life when he felt Jill slap his arm to get his attention.

“What is he doing?”

Robbie being the he in question.

Apparently he was indeed planning on getting with the new girl, if it wasn’t obvious by the way he managed to be the first one to help her find the only fucking classroom with a red door. The little fucker. He hadn’t mentioned the new girl looking like someone dragged her straight out of a fucking– vogue or whatever magazine that’s got the pretty girls on their pages.

They locked eyes and Robbie lifted one hand pointing at Charlie.

“Yo, move.”

What the fuck?

Was their friendship lacking that solid base that made Robbie willing to kick him to the curb just to impress a pretty girl?

“I can just sit in the back…”

“No it’s okay. I’ll take Robbie’s seat,” because fuck him really. He moved his things feeling a bit jittery knowing she was looking at him while he gathered everything.

✄

After a couple weeks of sticking to her like a piece of chewed up gum, Robbie had somehow managed to convince her to join the Cinema Club. It took a lot of begging on his part and Charlie was sure she accepted out of pure pity. Whatever the reason was, now he saw her in class and at club meetings.

Even though Charlie thought Robbie’s approach was rather pathetic, honestly the guy was trying too hard, he couldn’t help but put a little more effort in his looks when he knew her eyes were going to be on him.

One day as they waited for the others to fill the room she asked him, “did you put something on it?” As she looked at his hair.

“Uh– This– yeah! I saw this video of a dude putting like, mousse or something,” he responded. “He said it helped with curls… made them fluffy… yeah.”

“Looks bouncy,” and oh god, he could have died at that very moment.

He cleared his throat trying to ignore the few seconds of silence. She smiled and added, “Do you like your hair long? I noticed Robbie keeps it really short.”

“Yeah he’s lazy like that,” he smiled too when he heard her laugh.

Charlie saw her stand up and start walking to the desk he was resting against. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes.”

She grabbed the bag on her shoulder and reached inside it pulling out a piece of paper. “Robbie gave me a list of movies to watch so I wouldn’t be lost when you guys talked about them,” she paused. “But I don’t know where to find them so I was wondering if you could help me with that. I don’t want to ask Robbie in case he gets the wrong idea since we spend so much time together already.”

“Umm, yeah, yeah. I can do that,” he would be a fucking fool if he rejected such an opportunity. He reached a hand to get her to pass him the list, “I think I have most of these at home…” he could feel her gaze on the side of his face. “I could, bring them tomorr– or you could go back to my place after school to pick them up,” she didn’t respond immediately and he realized what it had sounded like. “Not like that! Just– you know…”

“No I know, you’re not Robbie,” and she giggled, fucking giggled. She was teasing him. “Okay Charlie, wait for me after school then.”

✄

She looked out of place in his room.

Like if someone was playing house with only one Barbie and the rest of the things in his room were all from the Transformers universe. Not that Charlie was even slightly similar to Optimus Prime, he resembled a littlest pet shop figurine. If he were to be honest with himself.

“Sit anywhere,” Charlie suggested feeling jittery. She walked to his bed and sat down as she watched him rummage through the pile by his speakers.

He wanted to curl into a little ball and squeal because of how he could feel her gaze burning into his back muscles.

Charlie heard his bed squeak when she moved to find a more comfortable position. “Have you watched all those movies?” She asked, pointing in his direction.

“The ones here,” he patted the pile he was taking CDs from. “The ones I haven’t, are here,” he pointed to the other pile to the right.

“How many movies have you watched?”

“Like, ever?” She nodded. “I don’t know, like, around two hundred? I think?”

“That’s crazy Charlie, Robbie said he’s watched like a thousand.”

Well fuck Robbie.

He forced a laugh, “to be fair Robbie’s got like, a problem or something. I mean, a thousand really?”

As she stood up from the bed she replied, “I’m so relieved you have the movies I need,” and Charlie felt like exploding all over the room when she kneeled beside him on the floor. “I don’t want to be out of the loop,” she smelled like fucking flowers and… sex? No. Too raunchy of a word for a girl like her. Flowers and something alluring. Fucking pheromones.

‘s gotta be.

He was brought back from the brief mind fog he was experiencing when he heard her murmur a “mhm?”

Charlie stared at her with his mouth open for a second, “I’m sorry?”

“Can you hurry? I need to go home in a minute” she smiled. “Sorry.”

“‘s cool,” he reached to the side to grab a random tote bag he could find. “Strict parents?”

“Kinda yeah. I mean it’s only me and my dad so he’s super protective of me.” She moved to help him put the CDs and tapes in the bag, “especially around this time of year when it gets dark early.”

“Lots of creeps hanging around,” he teased her. “I’m joking, probably just Robbie live streaming again. Though I’m not sure what’s worse, a murderer or Robbie.”

She hit his arm while smiling, “he’s not that bad.” She paused. “He’s very nice to me, not creepy at all. He's just… you know, a teenage boy I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“And so are you,” she said as she looked him in the eyes.

A beat of silence. “… and so am I,” he quickly stood up and clapped once. “A teenage boy that will walk you home if you want him to, though.”

Her hand lifted in the air inviting Charlie to help her stand up. “Okay,” she smiled again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

He had never been totally normal in the head, never quite correctly wired.

When he was four he had a stuffed whale he took everywhere with him. They ate breakfast together, it sat on the sink while his mom gave him a bath. He was so attached to it that when the stuffed animal needed to be washed, Charlie cried until his mom let him skip school so he could sit in front of the washing machine and wait for it to be done.

That would serve as a taste of the type of person he would become in the future. Now a senior in high school the only fitting transition from his stuffed whale to a more grown up fixation had to be the girl who was everything he wanted in a woman.

She was gorgeous and she seemed to enjoy spending time with him.

Ever since the day he walked her home Charlie felt on edge. No reasonable explanation to make him feel such an emotion other than the mutual mention they shared every time they had a conversation.

One of his redeeming qualities was his ability to know when the delusions were clouding his judgment. Being self aware comes in handy when one happens to be a social reject. So he knew he wasn’t making it up, he wasn’t imagining it. He wasn’t imagining the way she would let her fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt as if it was an unconscious action, or how she had wiped a stray eyelash off his face.

The signs were there.

The doubt made its appearance when he asked himself if she was doing it because she did in fact find him attractive or if all the attention she gave him was part of some big plan to humiliate him. After all, he had fallen victim to something similar in the past.

He would set himself on fire if a pretty girl asked him to so he had to be careful.

It was exciting to think she could actually be interested in him. And maybe it was a long shot but fuck, if it didn’t feel good to hope for the best.

If he were to expand on the self aware side of his personality, he would be forced to admit he was quite the obsessive guy. He liked Kirby for years on end, nothing she did or said to him could make him kill his undying love for her. He used to lay in bed and imagine what perfume she liked to wear the most, he would fantasize about how soft her lips would feel against his. He knew what she loved and hated. She liked her hair short and neat, she liked making fun of scary movies and she specially sporty guys with a tan. In short, she hated everything Charlie was so he never bothered.

But he would really fucking love it if this time around things played out differently.

She was not Kirby.

She didn’t make him feel like a tiny ratty chihuahua begging his master for attention. She seemed him out. She asked him questions about whatever shitty movie Robbie told her to watch.

One could think someone treating him like a human and not a bed bug would make him finally snap out of it, that he would stop acting so needy. On the contrary, this girl seemed to have revitalized his psycho tendencies with a spark fueled by pungent desperation.

After about two weeks of befriending her he had started dreaming about her, not wet dreams, he wouldn’t even think about disrespecting her in that way. But every night before going to bed he gets under the covers with a smile plastered on his otherwise blank face, eager to indulge in the mostly harmless pleasure that is to escape to dreamland to experience what he desires the most.

He saw himself doing mundane things.

He takes her to get her done, then they go buy food to have a picnic. They sit on a blanket as they eat fruit, he looks down at her knees and he sees her pants stained green by the grass that surrounds them. They laugh and they kiss, they giggle in each others arms

Some nights he dreams of her running her hands through his hair, he feels the warmth of her fingers on his scalp. In his dreams he doesn’t fear waking up and forgetting what everything felt like, he can allow himself that small pleasure. In his dreams he writes a letter and he reads it to her. When he wakes up he wishes humans were capable of reading while dreaming that way he could replicate said letter. Maybe the words written down contain the key to make her love him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Word travels fast, but it travels even faster when you have a camera surgically attached to your temple.

The entire day, Robbie had been acting weird, and staring at Charlie, whenever the latter opened his mouth. And because Charlie is a bit of an empath himself, he instantly knew his infatuation had been noticed by his best friend.

“Fuck is wrong with you man,” Robbie confronted him.

Ever the coward, Charlie moved to the side trying to walk closer to the classroom door.

“Charlie.”

“Dude we’re gonna be late.”

There’s not gonna be a club if I kill you right now,” Robbie looked down at him. “Let 's talk.”

“Talk about what?” Asked Charlie, choosing to play dumb.

Robbie furrowed his eyebrows and snorted before looking around in disbelief. “Well I don’t know, maybe we should talk about how you’re trying to steal my girl.”

“What girl Robbie?”

“You knew, you fucking knew about it. I called dibs.”

Now it was Charlie’s turn to snort, “dude. How old are we? Five?” He paused. “She just– I don’t know, she’s fun and she doesn’t look like she wants to die when I talk to her. What was I supposed to do?”

“You’ve liked Kirby for years! Why the change?”

“Robbie it’s not that serious, lower your voice,” people were starting to stare. He saw a couple of girls stop by a locker clearly pretending to look for something just to eavesdrop. “It’s not like she’s with you right now…”

The other boys, through his hands in the air, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I didn’t like– steal her from you or anything,” he grabbed Robbie’s shoulder and smiled. “Maybe I’m just her type man, nothing wrong with you,” he tried to make the joke land but as his friend blinked at him a beat slower that usual he felt a bit more anxious.

“You weren’t Kirby’s type and you’re her type?”

“…Robbie I was joking,” said Charlie with an awkward laugh. His eyes darted around taking notice of the increasing number of people around them.

“Well I’m not fucking joking,” he got closer to his face. “Stay away, I’m being serious.”

So Charlie was left to deal with the stares and the scratchy throat he got every time he felt embarrassed or humiliated.

The encounter was brief but it left him buzzing the rest of the day, people briefly glanced at him with a little smile on their faces as if they knew something he didn’t. As if he wasn’t present when it all went down.

And honestly fuck Robbie for feeling so fucking entitled. What if he liked her knowing Robbie wanted to get with her too? Out of everyone that lived in Woodsboro the one that was the most deserving of having her was Charlie. Nobody else had taken the time to memorize shit about her. They don’t know anything about her.

Charlie does.

In record time he had learned more about her than anyone in her life, that he was sure of. Because Charlie took people seriously.

So who did Robbie think he was?

All his life he had to settle for the bare minimum when it came to girls and the amount of attention they let him enjoy. Even fucking Jill, the only ever girlfriend he’s ever had, kept him as a secret because she was probably embarrassed to be seen with Charlie from the cinema club. In the past after their breakup, he dealt with a lot of anger whenever he started thinking about their relationship. He would wonder how big of a loser Jill thought him to be if she was comfortable letting him interact with Kirby even after knowing that for years he harbored a crush for her. It’s like she knew there was not a chance of him ever cheating. Or maybe she thought Kirby would never look at him twice. Whatever it was, Jill didn’t take him seriously.

There seemed to exist a pattern of people seeing Charlie as a filler character in one of those cringy Disney romance movies. The comic relief if you will.

No one ever made outright mean comments about his appearance or the things he liked, but that wasn’t because they respected him, it had more to do with the fact that his peers saw him as the silly guy. That silly guy you know, the one that wasn’t even worth ridiculing.

He was under the impression that he had found a friend in Robbie. They cheered each other up whenever the way people ignored them became too much. They both liked the same geeky stuff. But he was willing to let go of him if it meant he had a chance with the girl of his dreams.

What the fuck would Robbie even do with a girl like her. He then remembered him saying how annoying it was when girls put that sticky stuff on their lips.

As if he has ever kissed a girl, the fucking virgin.

She was always wearing makeup, she wasn’t the girl for Robbie. He could never learn how to properly be hers. On the other hand, Charlie already was. In body and soul.

So honestly, fuck Robbie for thinking showing his teeth and growling like a rabid dog would be enough to get Charlie to back off.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

He saw her at the end of the school day as he was putting his things in his backpack. She poked her head past the door frame.

“Hey,” Charlie greeted her.

“Hi. Already heard all about what happened,” she said, making a face.

“… yeah. Robbie’s always been a bit of a diva.”

She walked into the room at a slow pace.

“I feel like you were collateral damage. This morning he waited for me outside the school because wanted to talk,” her face looked kinda funny with how serious she was. So unlike her. “Would you believe me if I told you he professed his undying love for me.”

Charlie continues packing his belongings to look like he didn’t care. “How romantic.”

“It was really weird because he was live streaming the whole time.”

“That’s Robbie for you,” he jokingly said.

“Did he do the sa–”

“Oh no, no. He wasn’t live streaming when he tried to bite my neck open.” Charlie heard her laugh and he looked at her. She looked too guilty for someone that hadn’t done anything wrong. For what reason? He wondered. He hoped she wasn’t feeling guilty for rejecting Robbie. “It’s okay he didn’t do anything too bad. I just think he got the wrong idea, you know.”

“Mmm.”

“Because we’re not like that, Robbie’s just fucking crazy.”

He stared at her for a second longer, he noticed she had that snarky little smirk on her face once again. Once again he wasn’t allowed in the running inside joke she was always cheesing about.

“My dad told me to invite you over tonight.”

And she had the nerve to act like that wasn’t a wild thing to say.

“What?”

She laughed, “last weekend we watched two of the movies you recommended and he really likes them. I told him you’re a friend.

He is.

Charlie felt like Hulk Hogan, fight after fight coming his way. Letting Robbie yell at him in front of everyone was light work, but to risk his life by meeting her overprotective dad was a completely different way of self harm.

“I mean… why though.”

“I don’t know Charlie, maybe he was impressed by your taste in movies, you both have the same old man interests.”

“I also told him you were the same friend that walked me home the other day,” she bumped him with her shoulder.

“Did he call me a good boy for doing that?” He joked.

“Something like that,” she lifted a hand to grab a strand of his hair and she lightly pulled. “Come on, it’ll be fun and wholesome or whatever.”

He already knew he was going to accept but he was a little busy freaking out about what to wear or how to do his hair to voice out his answer. Sure his personality was great and he wasn’t sleazy like most guys his age but he was aware that his looks were completely the opposite of what a father would want for his daughter.

He was already thinking that far ahead.

Should he flat iron his hair? Wear a sweater vest?

“Is he gonna fucking shoot me or what?” He tries for a joke, adding an awkward giggle.

“Don’t make it weird silly,” she smiled. “We can watch a movie in my room after dinner.”

And okay, Charlie was what you would call socially inept but even his baby brain was able to pick up blatant offers such as that one.

“With your dad?”

“… no Charlie.”

He watches her exit the classroom leaving him to panic in the confines of his mind. He made his way to his house on autopilot.

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

At first he fully intended to put his hair in a ponytail, he was set on looking as pristine as a seventeen year old boy could look. But as he stares at himself in the mirror the more he realized how a guy that wore a ponytail was definitely not her type.

It made him look like a food delivery guy anyway.

He opted for his usual hairdo. The famous “book that has been read halfway through” Parted down the middle. A button down and khakis, sneakers on his feet.

While he ties his shoelaces he kept thinking back to when he walked her home.

He could see her dads silhouette from afar, he was being illuminated by the lights on the porch. Dude not only sounded scary he was also built like a fucking tank. So Charlie only walked her as far as his faint heart would allow it. Close enough so her dad could see she didn’t walk home alone but not close enough that Charlie could see his face.

He was now wondering if that had been a good choice. What if he gave off cowardly vibes. Which would be a correct assumption but not one Charlie would like to make.

Those few hours before he made his way to her house he moved around in his room like a ghost on debt. His palms clammy.

The final product was the usual Charlie get up plus cologne. Because no man is respectable if he doesn’t smell like a car air freshener personified.

Her dad said a total of five sentences to him the entire evening, but Charlie didn’t sense bad vibes or anything of the sort so he wasn’t too nervous. The only thing that felt mildly threatening were the slaps on the back the man gave him every time Charlie said something a bit funny. His spine and ribs threatened to fall apart after every slap. But hey, he did call him son at least once. A win is a win.

The girl seemed to be a fucking witch or something. It was like she had swapped here dad for a humanoid alien because soon after dinner she had reminded him of the groceries he needed to buy for the birthday party of one of his colleagues at work (Charlie wasn’t entirely sure, he was too busy staring at her tomato sauce stained lips), and her had just stood up and left. He left them home alone.

He dared leave his beautiful teenager daughter home alone with a dude that even knew the perfume she wore. Granted he wasn’t aware of said fact, but still.

Charlie counted his blessings.

She walked her dad to the door and he left after telling her to lock the door until he came back. Charlie would try to make an analogy about him leaving his daughter trapped with a lion inside the house if it wasn’t for the fact that he felt like the prey.

When she came back he was sitting on the couch with his hands under his thighs.

“…so.”

“…so,” she mocked him with a silly voice. “Charlie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

She waved her hand signaling him to scoot over to make space for her to sit down. “Are you and Jill still together?”

“Wha– what the fuck– who told you about Jill?”

“Is that a yes?”

He stood up from the couch as if it was burning him, he knew his failed relationship with Jill was going to come back and bite him in the ass. “No, what? We– not… anymore.”

“Okay, calm down Charlie,” she was quick to smile and pull him by the arm. “Just that it would be really awkward if I had been imagining it all.”

Imagining what.

“Imagining what,” he repeated out loud.

“Imagining us flirting like middle school kids for like the past, two weeks?”

He wasn’t sure if he was about to pee or explode all over the living room. He had a plan and timelines to follow until he was ready for his feelings to be out in the open like this.

“Ah… Th– I’m not with Jill anymore.”

She pulled at his arm again and he sat back down. “I’m sorry, just that I’m trying to figure out if you were secretly a player all along.”

He laughed. “Definitely not a player.”

“Robbie told me.”

“Man fuck Robbie,” he paused. “I could tell you so many things about Robbie.”

She moved even closer to him and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Charlie I don’t care about Robbie,” she made another move on him and grabbed his sweaty hand. “Don’t think too much about it, I orchestrated this whole fucking thing just to get my dad out of the house tonight.”

He looked down at his lap. “I’m so confused right now.”

“How long do you think it takes someone to buy groceries and birthday balloons?”

“I’m a virgin.”

“Charlie I know!”

“You know?”

She giggled as she tucked one of her legs under herself, touching Charlie’s thigh with hers. “Look at you Charlie, of course I know.”

“Did Robbie–?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, yeah.”

She hadn’t let go of his hand so she dragged him with her when she laid back on the couch. He awkwardly tried to get comfortable in between her legs.

Looking down at her he wondered if all the trials and tribulations he had endured were needed to be able to see such a woman gazing up at him. Her hands always seemed to find themselves worrying with his untamed hair, she was pushing it back, away from his face.

“I don’t mind it,” she said.

“Huh?”

“I don’t care that you’re a virgin, it’s kind of charming actually.”

If it was said by anyone else he would have taken it as mocking, but she had never looked down at him for stuttering or sometimes avoiding eye contact.

“I’m about to be really charming. I don’t know what the fuck to do,” he noticed her eyelids sparkled under the pendant lamp hanging over them. She was so dreamy he would believe her if she told him they naturally did that and that it wasn’t make up.

“As long as you don’t think about Jill while kissing me…” she teased him.

He hovered his lips over hers before whispering, “never.”

They kissed and it wasn’t something cheesy and corny like you hear kisses be described in the movies, no sparkles or fireworks being set off. Instead Charlie felt hot all over and he had to cut the kiss short to take a deep breath. He noticed her moving her gaze all over his face.

“Again?”

“Yes please.” He replied.

He was supporting his weight on his forearms and she had one of her hands on his shoulder while the other one rested on the side of his neck. They kissed again and he was so aware of everything happening at the moment, he tried not to breathe too much on her face, he didn’t want his arms to give out and to squish her. Too much happening all at once, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He felt the corners of her lips curving up when she noticed him pulling away for a second to catch his breath. If it wasn’t for the suffocating heat that was located in his pants he would describe the make out session as overall quite wholesome.

Next time he pulled away she held his face with both her hands, “you’re all red.”

“Oh yeah, it happens.”

“When you kiss Jill?”

He tried not to laugh but he couldn’t hold his smile so he retaliated by tickling her. He dived in again with more confidence now that their lips had warmed up against each another. His arms not being used to exercise or effort of any kind were starting to go numb so he moved to lay on his side. She was quick to get comfortable and mirrored his position all without stopping their kissing.

Feeling the tiniest bit bolder, Charlie grabbed her thigh and made her position it over his waist. He wanted her to consume him whole. The hair on his hairline was starting to stick to his forehead, and of course she noticed this.

“Are you hot?”

“A little yeah.”

Her hands pulled at the collar of his button down, “take it off.” She helped him slide it down his back and she threw it under the coffee table, the rush of it all made him laugh. “Not that I don’t like this but I really want to get to the good part.”

“Th– yeah, yeah. Cool. Okay.”

Whenever he felt uncertain about something he chose to copy what others around him were doing, the same thing was happening at that moment. He rose up with her and he watched her slip her clothes off.

She started by standing up and unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her thighs, he watched her as she rushed to get rid of them. When she noticed he wasn’t moving she looked at him and said, “come on Charlie. You want me to undress you too? Like a little baby?”

“Yeah, no, sorry.”

She softly laughed and helped him with his pants anyway. And god, Charlie could have burst into flames from the sheer panic and excitement he felt when her hands made contact with the skin on his legs.

“I don’t– fuck I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do,” he lamely tried to excuse himself.

She seemed to ignore his words and didn’t bother to acknowledge them, she stood in front of him almost completely naked– she had kept her bra and her flowy blouse. As he paused for a second to take in the sight in front of him he let himself put his panic aside. He had gotten this far so she was clearly into him, he doubted his lack of experience was going to be a turn off.

Taking advantage of the moment of confidence he reached to touch her waist weakly pulling her towards him.

She moved to straddle him, “I know, I don’t care.”

They kissed again but this time around she moved from his lips all the way down his body. Her hands found his cock before her lips reached it.

“Woah– what, wait you don’t have to.”

“I kinda do, I don’t have lube. Do you?”

“Of course not, sorry.”

And fuck, during all the time he had known her he had never dared fantasize about her in any sexual scenario so he had nothing to compare to what he was seeing. She stopped for a second to just look at him. The view was downright sinful. Her precious face looked all different types of beautiful. Innocent, her eyes seemed glossy and alert. Expectant, for what was to come. And aroused, for what she was about to do.

“Don’t pull my hair,” she said.

And he wasn’t even thinking about doing it, how could he, when it was her job to pull his. The only one allowed to mess up anyone’s hair was her.

Instead he rested his arms on the backrest of the sofa. It felt programmed, the way he threw his head back the moment he felt the suffocating heat around his cock. He almost closed his legs on instinct.

“Ah–!” He moaned.

He knew she was only doing this to get him wet enough so they could fuck but he hoped she’d let him experience these feelings again sometime in the future. His own hand around his cock didn’t feel even remotely similar to the engulfing pleasure he felt all over his body, he thought nobody could compare to his own hands, after all who knew him better than himself? Oh but how wrong he was.

Attempting to regain some composure he tried to distract his mind by looking around the room, then down his body. The little makeup she was wearing on her lips was smeared down his chest and the marks disappeared before they reached where her lips currently were.

A failed attempt it was.

Her wet lips and the sounds they were making around him made him feel the pleasure from the tips of his hair down to his toes, it was strange and unlike anything he had ever felt.

She squeezed one of his knees before pulling him out of her mouth and going back to straddle him.

“I’m scared my dad is gonna knock on the door any moment now,” she said before coughing and when he looked at her lips he saw there was spit all around them so he wiped it with his thumb. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

And for a moment she looked the tiniest bit embarrassed, Charlie wasn’t going to let that happen.

“It’s been forever for me you know,” she laughed and went in for a kiss but she stopped before their lips connected. “What?”

“Guys don’t like to kiss after you blow them.”

And that made no fucking sense to him, what. “Just kiss me, I’m scared, if you don’t kiss me I’ll die,” he joked.

“I like you a lot Charlie.”

He giggled like a fool so he covered his face with his hand. “Yeah.”

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

For the first round she rode him because he could not, for the love of god, get the hang of it quick enough. He lasted for all of five minutes. With his ears still ringing from his orgasm he almost had a heart attack when they heard someone yelling outside.

Thanks to whatever higher power there was, it wasn’t her dad doing a war cry getting ready to kill Charlie.

“Neighbors,” she said, laughing in his face.

“Stop laughing. My dick almost went inside my body.”

Her loud laugh made his ears hurt a little but the joy he was feeling drowned any existing annoyance. “That would be bad because how would you fuck me again before my dad gets home?”

“What? Like, now?”

“Yes, now dummy,” she laid her back on the couch before she continued, “but I’m exhausted, let’s do it like this.”

“Okay… kinda like what you did but, like this. Okay. Yeah. I can do it.”

It was simple really. It was nothing but a change of angles. Yes.

They were both equally as sweaty but unlike Charlie she looked alluring with the small droplets of perspiration littering the expanse of her chest. He couldn’t help himself, his head lowered over the apex of one of her breasts. A bit shy at first, he left a peck there. Her skin felt feverish.

Her soft moan encouraged him to indulge in his desire to keep doing that for a bit longer but on her other breast. This time he licked her nipple and like clockwork her fingers rushed to tangle themselves in his hair.

“Fuck.”

“This okay?” He whispered. She hummed letting him know her answer was positive so he continued. He only let up when the skin around her nipples looked pinkish and closer to painful than tender.

“Wrap your legs around me, help me,” she obliged, drawing him closer to her. He went in for a kiss to get rid of the nerves he felt right before sliding inside her.

They moaned in unison. Waiting to get his confidence back he let himself stare at her yet again.

“What?” She asked, moving her head to the side, as if to avoid his gaze.

“You’re just really fucking pretty. I haven’t had the time to freak out,” at his words she looked back at him and she caressed his face with her hand. Before adding to what he had said he grabbed one of her knees to start moving, “I’m so happy.”

It all felt so domestic, the chatter while he lazily thrusted, the way they were smiling at each other, he loved it.

They didn’t talk for a brief while.

Charlie had a lot more control like this, now both of his hands were resting on the back of her thighs and he was thrusting with more of a rhythm. The sounds both of their bodies combined made were so flustering, wet and arousing. His cock had never felt quite like this, he honestly thought he could go for hours if it wasn’t for the impending doom of her dad’s arrival.

“Can I– Can I go faster please?” He waited for her to nod before putting more of his weight on his hands to be able to fuck her with more force.

He slid in and out in a frenzy, he felt like he would die if he stopped to take a breather, the sound of her loud moans were not helping at all. Now he couldn’t stop staring at her pussy and the way it glistened with their combined slick, the sight was sure to plague his mind in the days to come.

He never thought he would be allowed to fuck the girl he had been obsessing over for weeks. He no longer would have to imagine what her skin smelled like, or how she would move her lips when they made out. He knew now. This was the equivalent of having your third eye open.

“Fuck Charlie!”

“Yeah baby?” He laughed. “Can I call you that?”

“You can call me anything I don’t fucking care, just keep fucking me.”

He paused for a second before replying, “then, can I call you mine?”

She stopped mid moan to laugh out loud and squeeze his cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Ah, Ah–” his pants filled the room.

“Charlie I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.”

His thrusts were becoming weak due to the fatigue in his legs so he went back to supporting his weight on his knees. “Can you turn aro–” before he finished his sentence she was already moving. And fuck, her face was pretty to look at but her ass was going to haunt his dreams until the day he died.

“Come on, fuck me.”

And even though Charlie was a virgin, painfully so, he always preferred to watch shitty porn if the couples in the videos were doing it doggystyle. Something about being able to grab a woman’s hips with more strength aroused him more than anything.

He made quick work of sliding back inside her and this time he didn’t wait for her signal to start moving. For just a moment he let himself forget all about being Prince Charming and he allowed the more animalistic and primal side of him to come outside to play. His hips collided with her plush ass making loud sounds, the unmistakable singsong of just two passionate lovers blinded by the suffocating heat of their linked bodies.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ah! Charlie!”

“I know,” his voice came out whiny and desperate in tone. He wasn’t sure who was going to be the first one to let the tears flow down their cheeks. He felt like sobbing because of the overwhelming pleasure and other more innocent feelings in his heart. “Fuck I think I love you, what the fuck.”

His words seemed to make way for her pending orgasm from minutes ago before they changed positions. Her torso lifted up away from the couch and bumped into Charlie’s chest.

The sudden movement along with the cold feeling on his legs made him look down once again, he saw her leaking on his legs. Good god. “Sorry,” she tried to apologize when she noticed him with his head down.

“You keep on getting better huh?” Charlie rested his forehead on her shoulder. “You’re so fucking sexy, I’m going insane.”

They took a few seconds to catch their breath. She weakly massaged his scalp with her fingers. Charlie lifted his head from her shoulder to ask for a kiss.

“Pull out.”

“Mmm…” he groaned.

“Don’t be dumb, pull out so I can jerk you off. My dad’s been away for like an hour now,” He groaned again just to be funny. “Come on.

The sound her pussy made when he pulled out was nothing short of obscene. They were all sticky and sweaty. A mixture of bodily fluids that if it had been anyone else, Charlie wouldn’t have wanted them to touch his still hard cock.

She chose to sit on the carpet between his legs, the exhaustion was starting to catch up to her as well as she rested her face on her knees.

“It kinda hurts,” he said.

“Let’s make it stop then, yeah baby?”

At that he didn’t even bother voicing out his response, he just stared at her with her mouth open like he was trying to catch flies.

This time she didn’t need to add saliva to make the glide more pleasant, her juices had already taken care of that. Her hand closed around him and he felt like a virgin all over again, he was never going to get used to all her body parts touching him.

It didn’t take long before he lost control of his limbs, he was hunched over, gripping the couch cushions to keep himself from touching her as he didn’t want to bother her in any way.

“Ah– gonna cum,” he whined, his voice going higher than usual.

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fist?” He nodded like a dumb puppy. “Go on then. Don’t want my dad to find us like this right?”

“No baby, no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” The tip of his cock was a painful red shade almost purple, he had been hard for far too long. “Ah– Please, it hurts.”

“I’m not doing anything to stop you.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, fuck,” one of his hands was hanging in the air, clenching on nothing. She saw it and linked their hands together. He was looking at her so intently waiting for her to get the words he was trying to say, he nodded, his eyes glossy with tear.

“Wanna kiss me?”

“Uh-huh,” he dumbly said, nodding again. And as they kissed for the hundredth time that night she sped up the speed of her other hand.

His cum slid down her closed fist and he felt the tears he was holding in slide down his cheeks, wetting her face too in the process. She kept kissing him until he had stopped whining and panting so desperately.

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“Dad is gonna think an earthquake hit while he was gone,” she joked once they had parted.

Confused Charlie asked, “huh?”

“Look around, everything is messy. And my hands are all dirty.”

“Not only our hands, we’re all sweaty.”

“Right but we don’t have time to shower,” she pushed his sweaty and tangled hair away from his face. “So you’re gonna put your clothes back on and pretend nothing happened, like a good boy. Yeah?”

“…yeah,” he replied after a pause. “Like a good boy.”

“And I’m gonna do the same and wipe my hands clean with a napkin.”

It was like she had flipped a switch. In a quick moment she had changed back to the sweet girl he knew. Gone was the sex goddess he saw while cumming his brains out.

He did what she told him to do and also fixed the cushions on the couch. He watched her move around the living room like a working bee. Moving things here and there. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and when he opened them again she was standing in front of him holding a hair brush for him to grab.

“You look like you were electrocuted,” it was kind of silly the way he was back to feeling self conscious the moment he was fully clothed again. Like the angel she was, she noticed him looking a bit embarrassed so she added, “it’s cute Charlie.”

He smiled.

“Just that you can’t look like that when my dad is right outside the door.”

“What!?”

His scalp was on fire because of how quick and rough he brushed his hair to get it tangle free, all the while she laughed at him on her way to the door. Charlie discreetly whipped his face with his sleeve, just in case.

Her dad walked inside the house holding bags and bags of groceries. Charlie felt like making a run for it and just pushing the man aside to escape. For some stupid reason he felt like her dad somehow knew what they were getting up to while he was gone.

Once her dad carried all the groceries inside the house he put them on the kitchen counter and shouted, “Kids?”

Charlie almost pooped his heart out.

“Why are the windows open?”

Charlie looked at her in panic, she ignored him choosing instead to walk to the kitchen. “There was a cockroach flying around and Charlie helped me get rid of it. Huge thing. Really, I almost cried dad.

And the man laughed as he spoke loudly for Charlie to hear, “thanks kid, this girl is terrified of those. You’re a lifesaver.”

“… yes sir. Anytime… anytime.”

#charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x you #scream 4 #rory culkin

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goddessofroyalty · 3 months

Text

Fandom: One Piece

I wanted to play around with Luffy’s relationship with ZoSan in omegaverse and kept coming back to this idea of him being really invested in them bonding because it means people know they are taken and nobody could take either of them away. This is basically that.

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji, (you can also definitively read Zoro/Sanji/Luffy into this but Luffy's relationship to them can also be read platonically)

Tags: omegaverse

------------

Their captain apparently has an uncanny ability to know the exact moment they formalized their mate bond.

Maybe it’s a result of that sense of smell of his that is far sharper than any beta’s should be. Or perhaps it’s just part of the seemingly unconscious awareness he has of when exactly his crew need him. But they have only just settled in the afterglow of proper mated sex, pressed against each other with a dull ache of a fresh bite on their necks and the warmth of heat still under Sanji’s skin when knuckles knock against the door in a hurried song.

“Are you guys done? Let me in!” Luffy calls from the other side.

Zoro shares a look with Sanji. It’s pointless trying to deter him they both know.

Sanji roots around to reach for where he left his cigarettes by the makeshift nest as Zoro gets up to let their captain in. Slipping on pants on his way like modesty is something they might care about now.

Luffy practically launches himself over to Sanji once the door is open. Wrapping stretchy limbs all around him as he twists Sanji’s head to the side to give him a better a better look at the fresh bite on the gland on Sanji’s neck. One they hadn’t even known they were planning to do until they were in the moment and the weight of everything suddenly hit them and made them finally realize they had been dragging it out for no good reason.

“Oh, wow,” Luffy says, prodding against the tender flesh. “You can see each of Zoro’s teeth.”

Zoro grunts at it, pacing along the borders of the room moving stuff around. If asked he’d likely claim he’s looking for something to drink but from where Sanji’s sitting it looks more like an alpha marking the border of their mate’s nest.

Sanji should probably be annoyed at the implication that he needs to be protected, or worse, guarded over like some stolen treasure.

He’s not because it’s not. They trust in each other’s strengths but watch each other’s backs.

Luffy demands Sanji’s attention back onto him by nuzzling against Sanji’s neck as if he’s trying to rub his beta scent over that of an alpha’s fresh mating. If anyone could it would be Luffy.

Zoro watches it with more patience than could expect of an alpha as someone else paws over their mate. Especially when said mate is still in the middle of a heat and the bite is so fresh. Even if the person in question is his pack head. Zoro’s trust and loyalty in his captain stronger than instinct.

“Everyone will know you’re Zoro’s now,” Luffy chatters happily as he continues to examine the bite like it’s more interesting than just teeth and flesh. “They can’t take you from us now.”

Sanji swallows his guilt at the words. Tries not to think of how comforted what is a rather possessive declaration from their captain makes him.

“How will they know they can’t take Zoro though?” Luffy asks. Twisting his head to look over at where Zoro is pacing.

“He has a bite too,” Sanji assures their captain. There was no way he was going to let this be a one-way claim.

“Really!? Let me see!” Luffy stretches out an arm to tug Zoro over to sit next to them on the nest. Untangling himself from Sanji only so much so he can press and twist Zoro to better see the bit on his neck as well.

Zoro glares weakly at them both for it. But he lets Luffy do as he pleases.

“Oh! Zoro’s bite is deeper than Sanji’s!” Luffy says with a laugh.

“What!?” Sanji says the same time as his new mate.

Luffy grabs hold of Sanji’s head to twist it so he can see his neck and bite better. Eyes darting between the two bites.

“Yeah. It’s definitively deeper. Sanji really didn’t want anyone taking Zoro,” Luffy confirms with a laugh.

Sanji hadn’t thought he had bitten down any harder than Zoro had him. He had only been returning what he had been given.”

“Hey captain,” Zoro says, his gaze locked on Sanji, eyes darkening by the moment. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

“Huh?” Luffy asks, his nostrils suddenly flaring. “Oh, you need to bite him some more now?”

“Something like that,” Zoro agrees. And Snaji is very glad he’s still wrapped up in the nest, because he doesn’t want Luffy knowing how much of an effect that tone in Zoro’s voice has on him.

“Right,” Luffy says with a nod. Detangling where he has his limbs wrapped around the two of them so he can leave.

“Have fun,” he says before slipping out of the room but Sanji isn’t really paying attention to him anymore. Much more focused on how Zoro is climbing on top of him, alpha-scent thick in the air.

“Don’t want anyone else taking me?” Zoro asks, all teeth.

“Shut up,” Sanji says, pulling him closer for a kiss.

#One Piece #ZoSan #ZoSanlu #roronoa zoro #zoro x sanji #vinsmoke sanji #monkey d. luffy #blackleg sanji #Omegaverse #One Piece omegaverse #black leg sanji #I accidently a ficlet

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ghouljams · 10 months

Note

So you might’ve said something previously and I just missed it but I was reading the tags on your post about soap and Goose and goose had an accident? And Soap drove her to the hospital??? Have you said something before and I just missed it it’s 5am here I feel like I’m going insane trying to figure this out-

Goose's accident happens at the end of Soap's first summer with them and is part of Goose's story that I haven't talked about yet because, well, there's no good way to bring it up... but it colors a lot of how Price treats her on the farm as well as how close she and Soap are. Nothing brings people together like some solid medical need. We are also going to do some serious suspension of disbelief as I write moderately improbably situations and injuries, everyone be nice.

You never really bought the whole slow motion play in movies when characters get hurt. You've seen people get hurt, seriously hurt, and it always happens fast. It's quick and messy, and you've never needed a slow motion edit to know that it must have hurt like a bitch.

You get it now. That your brain must have been trying to find the right angle to record the trauma, that it must have been searching for some way out of this. Once you actually were hit everything sped back up, the pain sped back up. You try to lay still and stare up at the clouds, you're supposed to stay still until someone comes to patch you up. You're cold.

Soap drops to his knees next to you. You think that cloud looks a lot like a butterfly. He presses down hard on your stomach and the ringing in your ears grows louder until it pops and you feel the full burning extent of the pain. It's excruciating. Every nerve in your body lit up on high alert to make sure you know you've been nearly gutted.

People are yelling, Soap is yelling. You've never heard him yell before. His face is twisted into something unreadable as he looks at you. The world seem very fuzzy and watery, or maybe you're crying? Are you crying? You can't feel anything past the electric shock of ripping pain from the wound.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He's telling you, "I have to keep pressure on-" and you don't really have the brain power to parse the Scotts that he's speaking past that.

Your stomach, aside from feeling like its been thrust into a salted fire, is wet. That must be the blood. And there's something hard on your chest, something that's speaking in a calm tone.

You try to focus on your breathing, but that only brings fresh shocks of pain through you. It feels like every twitch makes you want to flinch away from your own body. You've never felt a pain so all-consuming before. So bad you can't even draw a breath to scream from it.

The flashing lights of the ambulance sure got here quick. Or, no, have you been down that long? Someone shines a light in your eyes like they're some sort of doctor. Soap is talking to them with short military precision. You've never ridden in an ambulance before, you'd almost be excited if you could think of anything but the pain. Actually, you can think of something else.

You think the Lucas' have to be the only morons in the state that don't have their bull's horns tipped.

#Soap keeps it together just long enough to throw up in the ambulance #war and treating wounded soldiers? fine nothing #treating his wounded sister? traumatizing the worst thing he's ever had to do #Price never forgives himself for being deployed when this happened #doesn't let Goose help out on anyone else's farm again #doesn't let her in the pasture alone #puts up a fight when she wants to compete in the rodeo #Soap literally stripping the shirt off his back to apply pressure #GOD They all love you so much Goose #Duck is working at the hospital and gets called to the ER it's the worst day of her life #Goose gets a cool scar out of the whole experience #oc: Goose #johnny soap mactavish #cowboy!141

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everlastlady · 5 months

Text

Husband Father Miran HCS

𐂂- Author's Note: Since I posted some Lord Dimitrescu husband hcs. I was scrolling through the hashtags and saw someone was looking for gender bender content of Mother Miranda and Donna. So I decided to do it, I'll be doing Donna aka Donnie next for husband hcs until then enjoy my version of gende bender Mother Miranda aka Father Miran. Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

𐂂- Word Count: None, sue me!

𐂂- Story Contains: Husband Father Miran, Experiments, Cults, Smut so minors dni or people who aren't comfortable with smut, reader is female, worshipping, and spoiled reader.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who thought you were a little cutie when you wandered into the village got lost. He had to tell the Lords to leave you alone. Something about you had him interested and soon the two of you were married. Yes Father Miran is a strange and scary man but behind close door he was a goofball and you loved him. He didn't want you to worship him like the others. He wanted to be your equal but he didn't mind a little worshipping in the bedroom whenever the two of you were feeling naughty~

✧- Husband Father Miran, who always wants to match with you. The colors are always brown, gold, and black. He thinks you both look important because he believes you and him are important. He doesn't mind if you don't want to match on certain days but he'll always try to convince you because he wants others to know that you are his.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who doesn't reveal his face to the other lords or anyone for that matter. Only you get to see those beautiful blue eyes and a lot of his blonde short hair. He actually never wears his mask when he's in private with you. You have wore his mask before and he thinks you look as powerful as him.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who mourns the loss of his son but he's glad that you are in his life. You showed him how to love, live, and laugh again. He hopes to have a child with you one day. And he will be very protective of you and the child. But he doesn't mind if you want kids. But he'll get a baby eventually.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who worships between your legs, your sweet nectar until you are nothing but a moaning mess that has unraveled in front of him. He won't stop until he has pumped you full of his seed in all sorts of positions. He'll cry out your name, not caring who hears. Because he wants you to know how much he loves you, sometimes he won't stop until you are crying out his name. Once he is done, he'll give you the aftercare. A bubble bath, fresh pajamas, snacks, and water. He'll give you soft kisses and rub your back until you fall asleep.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who always has someone watching you when he's busy or away. The village is dangerous and he doesn't want you to get hurt. He is also worried that the other lords might hurt you. Especially the creatures that lurk around the village so he usually keeps you inside the manor. But there is always a lot to do so you don't get bored. He even made a special room for you so that you don't get lost in it.

✧- Husband Father Miran, who is thrilled when you give birth to his son. He's the one who made sure everything went right that you would stay alive to see the life you were bringing into the world for you and him. He'll make sure to take care of the child while you recover. Always having the baby by his side but bringing him back if he needs his mother especially if he needs to feed. Miran can't help but cry up a storm and be grateful to have a child once again, to have you. His family is complete but his experiments aren't done but he makes sure to spend time with you and your son, because you guys are his everything and no one will take you guys away.

#resident evil village #mother miranda #father miran #mother miranda gender bent #resident evil village x reader #father miran x reade #lord dimitrescu

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mermaidfanficlibrary · 5 months

Note

Oh I really like the idea for this event! Floriography is one of my favorite subjects. With that aside, I'd like to give Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact): Honeysuckle, Hibiscus and a Blue Rose.

The theme should be fluff with some angst.

Message: "This world could use a few more wild cards," or “You’re just… you’re extraordinary. “

‎‧₊🦋˚✧A Bouquet for you My dear✧˚🦋₊‧| Pt. 5 | You're extraordinary

Characters: Kaeya Alberich

Summary: Sending Kaeya Alberich Honeysuckle, Hibiscus, and Blue roses

Warnings: Just pure fluff

Taglist: None

Sending the chosen flowers to Kaeya Alberich... Loading now...

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Now sent! Would you like to wait for a response?

[> Yes] >No

Kaeya was walking back to the Knight’s of Favonius building after a long mission. As he walked to his office, one of his colleagues ran up to him. He looked at them with a curious smirk as he slowed down. His colleague put their hands on their knees, trying to catch their breath. It didn’t take long for the colleague to speak with pants in between his words.

“Sir Kaeya! There's a delivery on your desk!”

Kaeya looked at his colleague with an amused face. He only nodded as he walked a bit faster to his office. He was very curious as to what he was sent and who sent him something. As he opened the door to his office, he was greeted with a beautiful flower arrangement. He walked up to the arrangement and eyed it curiously. He noticed a small tag that was attached to a letter, and mumbled it to himself.

“Hm? To Kaeya, From Y/n… How intriguing.”

He carefully opened the letter that was attached to the name tag. His hands held it gently, as if it were a snowflake. He knew you had become really close with him, and he has too. He wanted to tell you, but he was unsure how. His mouth went agape as he read the first words.

You’re just…so extraordinary to me, and it is so overwhelming to feel so much for someone like this. No one could ever come close to how much I want to know and understand you. You leave everyone awestruck, even myself, and I couldn’t have asked to know someone more amazing than you. You bring a smile to my face, and I hope to bring a smile to yours. I always get this warm feeling inside, this safety when I see you smile my way and for a moment I think nothing will ever hurt me. You make me see all these new colors that I’ve never known existed.

Honeysuckle: True Happiness

I only ever wish for you to have the truest form of happiness. I want to be the reason you smile because your smile is like the sunshine! I can’t get enough of it, and it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Nothing makes me smile more than seeing you looking my way with that welcoming smile on your face. It brightens my day when I just see you smiling at anything, but I especially love when that smile is directed at me. I want to make you happy because you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, you deserve never ending happiness.

Blue Roses: Mystery

Your eyes are filled with this aura of mystique. And you’re whole past, I want to know more about it. You have me trapped within this curious feeling of wanting to know every piece of information there is to know about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly because I wish to know it all! Nothing could keep me away because you are so intriguing. Whenever I look into your eyes, I see this breathtaking world of which I have never seen. I want nothing more than to uncover your mystery and know you so much more than I already do.

Hibiscus: Rare Beauty

I have never met someone like you, and when I first saw you, I was enchanted. You were a breath of fresh air from all the people I had met in this world. Your beauty rivals everything in this world, both the beauty of people and the scenery. You plague my thoughts and I wish I could imprint you in my brain, so your beauty is immortalized. You have me entrapped within your web and I couldn’t be happier. Nothing has made me happier after I see you, every time I walk into Mondstadt I always hope that you’re there. I always want to see you, but I feel like I need a reason too.

— Sincerely your biggest supporter, Y/n

He was so happy that you wrote him this note, and sent him these glorious flowers that were proof of your love and admiration for him. He left his office in the Knight of Favonious and ran to find you. You were in Windrise and now suddenly tackled to the ground by none other than the Calvary Captain himself. He peppered your face with kisses and a huge smile on his face. You meant so much to him, and now he knew that he meant a lot to you.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

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jujutsukatsuki · 2 years

Text

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, throatfucking, spitting, gagging, messy makeup, soft kiri <3

Smut will be under the cut!

Sometimes things don’t work out, plans fall through, people flake, or your boyfriend since freshman year of high school decides to dump you via text when you were waiting for him at the coffee shop you always met at when you and him got off work.

So here you are, sitting in this little café, crying into your ceramic cup full of espresso that has foam art of a heart. You sniffle as you sit in the booth. It didn’t help that today was already awful. You flunked a test you stayed up all night studying for cause life would be too easy to let you have one thing go right today. Your AP literacy teacher seemed to have a burning hatred for you and you had cracked your phone screen.

If you weren’t spending thousands on college and already in your last year, you might have quit today.

Your only saving grace? The cute barista who you’d come to know as Eijiro Kirishima. He had covered your drink when you realized that your wallet was at home sitting on your coffee table.

You barely touched the cup of coffee he had spent time making just for you, even adding the cute heart on top. Instead you chose to keep your head in your hands as you stared at the table blankly, tears falling from your face into the coffee, ruining the art.

Kirishima bussed a few tables before he got to you.

“Y/n?” He asked softly as he put a hand on your shoulder. You sniffled and looked up at him, a white towel was throwing over the tight black shirt he wore. A black apron covered the front of his body. You took notice of a couple pins he had on the front. A pin from a hero movie, crimson riot or something, you couldn’t remember the actual name. A pin that read He/Him, his name tag that had a pink smiley face sticker along with his title of Assistant Manager for X amount of years on it and a pin that read ‘Ask me about my favorite coffee!’

“Y/n?” He asked again as he knelt down a bit to be eye level with you.

“Sorry, yeah, what’s up Kirishima?” You wiped the black stained tears from your cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Your bottom lip quivered, fresh tears pricked your eyes, face was hot with embarrassment and sadness.

“M-my boyfriend broke up with me over text.” You covered your mouth with your hand and let out a muffled sob. Kiri’s eyes held an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. Pity? Genuine concern? You weren’t sure.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, that’s so unmanly of him.” He wrapped you in a tight bear hug. You wrapped your arms around him tight and cried into his chest.

Eijiro ended up taking his break so he could comfort you while his co-worker, Shoto, covered. He listened to you vent about your problems and frustrations, you actually drank the new coffee that Kiri brought over for you this time, he didn’t want you to drink a coffee that was probably 85% your tears at that point.

He sat next to you and held your hand as you cried into his shoulder.

“I mean, nearly eight years.” You cried. “I thought him and I were gonna get married.” Kirishima rubbed your back slowly as he listened, he didn’t talk, just listened and god it felt nice.

“To tell you the truth, I never liked him much.” Eijiro said once you had calmed down, tears slowly falling less and less.

“Why?” You sniffled and looked up at him.

“He was super bossy and didn’t tip well.” Kiri joked to try and cheer you up. You let out a small laugh.

“He was like that wasn’t he?” You brushed some hair behind your ear and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I don’t want to tell you that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it will. But what I can tell you is that you’re such a good, kind, genuine person and anyone is lucky to have you. You’re truly a gift Y/n. And you’re really pretty.” He smiled

Your face felt warm as he said that. “Thanks Kiri. And thank you for listening, I really needed that today.”

“Anytime.” He smiled at you with a big toothy grin.

He got back to work after that, only after he gave you his number if you needed anything of course and you went home to kick your boyfriend out of the apartment.

Only you came home to him having sex with your best friend in the bed the two of you shared. Honestly, you didn’t even care at that point. You calmly gathered all your things, told him to have a nice life and that you were telling the landlord about him smoking weed in the apartment all the time.

With no where to go and a car full of stuff, your brain went on auto pilot. You ended up in front of the coffee shop. It was now pouring rain outside, thunder and lightening were brewing in the sky.

Your eyes held a blank gaze as you stared straight ahead. A soft knock came from your passenger window, it made you jump as you unlocked the door after seeing a familiar red head.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Kiri asked as he climbed into the passenger seat, he was no longer wearing his apron and the tight black shirt he wore clung even tighter to his body thanks to the rain. His normal spikes of hair were now hanging down in his face.

You sat and told Kiri about what happened once you had got home. His jaw dropped as he heard about what you walked into you. He invited you to stay with him for the night.

Little did you know that one night was gonna change everything.

That was all a year ago. You’ve been living in Kirishima’s guest room ever since.

Currently you were making dinner, Kirishima was gonna be home soon from work and you decided to make his favorite meal that you knew how to cook. Homemade chicken Alfredo.

The front door’s lock jiggled as he unlocked the door and walked in.

“Y/n, I’m home.” He hummed as he dropped his work backpack next to the house and took his shoes off.

“In the kitchen Eiji!” You called out as you were mixing the noodles and sauce.

“Hey.” He smiled as he kissed the back of your head before he grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“Did you have a good day at work?” You asked as you put the noodles to simmer on a low heat.

“It was alright, had a few Karens. What about your day?”

You smiled softly as you looked at him. A black bandana was holding his hair back from his face, he had a smile that reached his eyes as he inquired about your day.

Suddenly it dawned on you how domestic you and him were. How he’d come home and kiss your head, how you’d snuggle into his side as you watch a tv show together, how he’d carry you to your bed and kiss your forehead as he tucked you in. How he’d come up behind you when you were with his friends and wrap his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder.

You were in love with your roommate and best friend.

As you two sat in the couch eating dinner, your legs were over his lap, head resting against his thick biceps. Your thoughts were full of details about Kirishima that you could get rid of. The small scar above his eye he got from jumping through a window when he was a kid, the tattoos that decorated his inner arms, a few comic book heroes and anime characters he loved, the way he instantly relaxed under your touch. You noticed how much Kiri loved touching you. He was always the first one to hold you close to him or kiss your head.

You kept staring at him from the corner of your eye, enough that he caught your gaze.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asked as he reached out and gently wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your face was suddenly very hot as you slowly nodded, he wiped his thumb on a napkin.

“You seem quieter tonight are you sure you’re alright?”

“Kiri, do you…” You stopped to think about your phrasing before you decided to come out and say it.

“Do you like me?”

He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Yeah of course, you’re like my best friend.” He smiled a bit

“No I mean like… romantically.”

Kiri’s cheeks went bright red as he stuttered out a answered.

“Is- uh.. Is it okay if I say yes?” He nervously cleared his throat as he chewed on his bottom lip, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped.

“Yeah of course! I just, I realized that.. maybe I’ve always known and I was just scared but I don’t want to ruin anything and you’re just so sweet and I’m worried that I’m not good enough for you but I like you like that an-“

He cupped your cheek with his huge hand and kissed you. It was such a polite way to shut you up. You kissed back, hands finding the shirt he wore and clutching it in your hands. His lips were soft against yours, his actions were gentle as his other hand held the back of your neck.

The kiss was broken when you both needed air. Lips were swollen and red, faces were warm and the only noise was that of soft panting.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while.” He smiled as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“How long?” You questioned

“Since the very first day you walked into the coffee shop and ordered a hot chocolate and a croissant.“ Your face seemed to get even warmer.

“You remembered what I ordered?”

Kirishima chuckled as he nodded.

“Yeah, you asked for four pumps of extra chocolate in the drink because sometimes it wasn’t a strong enough taste for you. Plus you gave me like a 15 dollar tip.”

You laughed and Kirishima fell deeper in love with you at the sound you made. His smile grew as he watched you.

That night you laid in your bed, tossing and turning as you thought of the revelations from tonight. You loved him and he loved you. Now what the fuck do you do?

You shoved the blankets off you and got up, slipping on the bunny slippers that Kiri got for you last Christmas. You opened your door only to come face to face with him. His red hair was down in his face as he looked like he hadn’t slept yet.

“What are we?” The two of you said in sync. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What do you want?” Kiri asked as he placed a hand on your upper arm before it slid down to grab your hand.

“You.” You whispered softly as you gently squeezed his hand.

“I want you too.” He smiled tiredly

“So.. does that mean we’re dating?” You asked for confirmation.

“I guess it does.” He kissed your forehead and squeezed your hand.

“Let me take you on a date tomorrow- er, later tonight?” He chuckled

“Oh yeah? Where are we gonna go?”

“Not sure yet but I’ll pick you up at seven?” He grinned

“I’ll make sure I’m ready by then.” You moved to wrap your arms around his neck.

“If I’m a few minutes late it’s cause my super cute roommate takes forever to get ready.” He teased

“I do not!” You laugh, Kiri reached down and picked you up by your thighs. You gasped, your slippers falling off in the process

“Eiji!”

“What?” He hummed as he stole you away to his room.

“I can walk you know.” You yawn softly, sleep already starting to pull you under.

“I know.” He yawned after you did. He laid down in his bed and laid you next to him. You could see in Kiri’s eyes that he was seconds from sleep. By the time you pulled the blanket over you two, he was out. You snuggled into his chest, it was a perfect fit like you two were made for each other.

One of his hands rested on your thigh, the warm feeling made butterflies in your stomach as sleep became an anchor chained to your ankle yanking you down through the waves of tranquility.

It was your first big date with Eijiro, you put on a nice black dress that hugged your figure in a way that made you feel confident with a deep v neck line that showed off your cleavage and a pair of red heels. Thankfully the dress stopped about mid knee level so it showed off the heels.

You weren’t sure where you and him were going, only that he told you to dress fancy. He looked very handsome in a black suit with a red tie. He grinned like a mad man when he saw you. His large hands found your waist as you snaked your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair of his undercut.

“Baby, you look-” He cuts himself off as he moves you to do a little twirl for him. Kiri’s eyes rake over your figure before his eyes meet yours as you twirl back to face him. The smile on his face reaches his eyes, he's looking at you like you’re the love of his life, like you’re a gift to this world.

To him, you are all of those.

Dinner goes well, Eijiro tells you stories that have happened at work recently, you tell him about what you’re learning at college. The entire time he looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky.

He’s so in love with you, it hurts.

🛑 Smut under cut 🛑

After dinner was the fun part. It wasn’t the first time you two did it. But this would be the first time that the two of you were going to have needy, messy sex. Your hands were all over each other, grasping at clothing and skin until your clothes were in balls on the floor.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty on your knees.” Kiri panted softly as he looked at you. His lips were swollen with light stains of the lipstick you had worn, his pupils were huge, lust blown. His hand cups your cheek as he stands in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock. The tip is red and leaky with dribbles of pre cum.

“Thank you daddy.” You smile and stick out your tongue, his cock is huge. Youre not sure how youre gonna fit the monster in your mouth, the only hope you had was how well he fit in your cunt. Eijiro grins as he smacks the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Such a messy girl.” He whispers as he licks his lips in anticipation. You slowly take every inch of his cock down your throat, you get about half way before your mouth feels extremely full.

Eijiro lets out a soft groan as his hands tangle in your hair. He bucks his hips into your mouth. Needy. Wanting. He’s doing everything he can to chase his high. You pull back for a moment to talk to him, saliva drips down your chin.

“You can fuck my throat Daddy.”

His brain malfunctions over your words, with one hand he puts his cock back into your mouth as the other has your hair gripped tightly. You let your jaw remain slack as he started to thrust into your mouth.

The feel of your throat gripping his cock is the most euphoric. Drool drips down your chin to between your breasts. The feeling of your gagging satisfies him, the way you clench around his cock. Between your legs is slick, your thighs stick together as you rub them together for friction. You let out a whine as you make eye contact with him, he thrusts harder down your throat, causing you to gag again. This time he holds your head down, nose buried in his neatly trimmed happy trail.

The gagging is what’s pushing him over the edge, he reaches down and wraps his hand around your throat. He can feel himself buried inside. Your head feels light, but it feels too good to tap him on the thigh and make him stop. Without warning, his cum floods down your throat, making you instantly start swallowing.

His breathing is harsh as he pulls out, muscles in his thighs are lightly jerking and a few spurts of cum find their way on your lips and chest.

“Fuck.” He curses as he looks at you, makeup smeared around your face, lips red and puffy, cum dripping down your skin. He can’t help but add to the mix with his spit before he smears the mixture all over your cheeks and mouth.

“So fucking pretty. Gonna make such a mess of you.” He smirks as he lifts you up and lays you on the bed. You have a feeling that the neighbors are gonna have a noise complaint to give your landlord, but in that moment, you couldn’t give a fuck. You were about to be obliterated by your boyfriend's huge cock, and that’s all that mattered to you.

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eupheme · 1 year

Text

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE | part ii: stay with me

[masterlist | part i]

joel miller x f!reader

Rated E - 6.2k

Tags: mention of wounds/care, brief canon-divergence (spoilers for ep. 6 & 7), reader is mid/late 30s+, mentions of death, use of weapons, found family, angst, wounds, hurt/comfort, the start of feelings, competency kink(s)

He wakes up. And slowly, the cabin starts to feel alive again.

The long evening stretches into a longer night. You’re exhausted from the last 24 hours, the dull throb in your head that echoes against your ribs.

Not wanting to take anything for the ache, now knowing it could be needed. Stretched out on one of the old hickory chairs - watching through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

The girl - Ellie - stayed up as long as she could. Dozing now, curled up in the wooden chair that matches yours, at the foot of the couch.

He murmurs in his sleep. Knocked out from the pain and the medication, forehead hot with a fever as he fights off the infection.

Some of it senseless - rough mumbles as his eyes move under closed lids.

Sometimes names.

Breathed out, with the rise and fall of his chest.

Gasped, with a creak of the couch as he shifts. Hand twitching at it reaches out, searching for someone who isn’t there.

You can’t leave him. So, you let him take yours. His grip firm and strong even like this, as he settles.

The hours, slowly passing.

But, he makes it.

Through one night. And then another.

A slow routine starting.

Catching sleep in the morning, when Ellie takes over watch. Never imaging you’d be comfortable with strangers in your house - but you figure if they attacked you now, then there’d be a special place in hell waiting for them.

A routine of pain killers, the man’s eyes fluttering open when you wake him. How he frowns each time - looking for the face he knows, too incoherent to understand.

But he gulps down the water you offer. That sharp frown easing as he sleeps, where you brush the sweaty curls from his forehead, adjust the blankets when they get kicked off.

A small realization forming, during this time. You had thought they needed you, in those late-night hours. That he wouldn’t survive, without your help.

But you see the way he fights. How she’s the first thing he looks for. How she hasn’t left his side. A bond there, stronger than you’ve seen in a long time.

Maybe they didn’t need you at all.

Maybe you’re the respite. The soothing hand, the warm food, a safe place to rest - before they moved on. Like Aunt June and Danny had been for you - when your little group turned up on their doorstep all those years ago, battered and broken.

Even if they never ended up moving on.

Even if you’re still here.

It’s comforting, in a way. A means to finally pay back everything that was given to you, over the years.

You hope they’d be proud.

———

A little more time passes, and you find that it’s not so bad. Having more people around.

Ellie is funny.

A breath of fresh air, in your silent, stuffy cabin. Where everything is in its place because you’re the only one that moves it. Where there’s been no one but you and the ghosts of those before, haunting it’s halls for years.

Excited over the things you’ve taken for granted. Eyes shining over things like canned fruit cocktail and instant noodles. Innocently poking around everything you own, to a point where you just sigh and shake your head.

Seasoning conversations with the word “fuck”, peppered in expertly. Fuck this, fuck that, and a fuck yeah.

A side-eye thrown your way the first time, catching the small curl of your smile instead of a reprimand. You remember what it had been like, to be her age.

Not exactly in the same way - you can’t imagine that. Living through this hell, back then. But, just that sense of feeling grown up, wanting to be taken seriously.

The tenuous friendship formed in these first few days reminds you of your childhood.

Befriending a feral cat that slept beneath the porch - tempting it out with bits of food. Sitting on the stoop as she became used to you, until the shift of your stance no longer scared her away.

With Ellie, the food certainly helped. But what got her was the books.

Most of them were old - what you would think a middle-aged couple in the 80's would bring to a cabin.

Guides filled with local birds and flora. Collections of old, short stories. A stack of local maps, the pages well-worn and creased, everything lined up in the handmade wooden bookcase.

You've read them all. There were days in the winter where there was little else to do. A few scavenged, brought back by the others. But now it helps, as you pick the ones you think she'd like - setting them by the chair she's claimed.

The hours become a little more comfortable.

She reads, while you cycle through the small pastimes you have. Your own book you've been working through. Some projects - the beginning of a scarf, crocheted with salvaged bits of old sweaters, a moth-eaten afgan.

Passing the time while he sleeps and heals with the turning of pages, the slide of the yarn.

She had been interested in your work for a little while - an afternoon where you showed her how to yarn over, make a chain.

Her fingers clumsy as she miscounted, too eager for the end result.

Turning what began as a rectangle - the start of a scarf, like yours - into something with wavy edges, each row shorter than the last. The frustration evident as she handed it back to you with a resigned shrug.

But you still weave in the ends, block it out next to some granny squares. With some fringe, it becomes a bookmark - her fingers playing with the ends as she reads.

It’s close to four days in, when things change. When he starts to be awake more often than he’s asleep.

"I think he's turned a corner." You tell her, after the bandages have been changed.

When it came to this - she learned everything you showed her quickly. A quick study, once shown. Resourceful, too - telling you how she had found the antibiotics in an old mall, one that you knew well. The very mall you were certain had been already cleared out - but today, you were happy to be wrong.

This time she takes the lead - peeling back the stained medical tape. Carefully checking the wound before replacing the gauze, fixing it back into place.

That long-held breath exhaled. A small nod, "He has to be. I don't know what I'd do-"

"He has turned a corner." You amend - the words firm, "He's lucky he had you."

"More like, we were lucky I found you."

There's a sullenness that tinges her words then, arms crossed over her knees.

It makes you frown, as you move from the chair. Lowering yourself down, until you're both on the same level, on the wooden floor.

She doesn't meet your eyes, fingers tugging at a loose string on the quilt, dangling off the couch.

You think you understand, a little.

The complexity of the situation - how hopeless she had probably been feeling. How much she had to do on her own, all while thinking she didn't do enough to help. Thinking she failed him.

"This was all you. You know that, right?" Your words are careful, your head ducking to make eye contact, "He wouldn't have made it without you."

Ellie's jaw grits, a quick look your way - before her eyes drop.

"He didn't start getting better until he got here."

You sigh, leaning back on your hands, "You just gave him the antibiotics. They just needed a little time to start working."

Her head turns, as she thinks about that.

"I helped ease some of the pain, but he's strong. He survived, because of you."

Eyes meeting yours. Narrowing, but in a way where you can tell that she’s inspecting you. Seeing if you’re lying.

You’re not. The smile you offer is small, as he starts to stir. Eyes cracking open - finding hers like they always did.

As her expression brightens. You’re not sure if it’s a mask - wanting to appear cheerful for him - or if she’s still at that age where emotions are fleeting, changing with the wind.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She chirps, his forehead creasing with the name, her loud voice. He grunts an answer, glancing around the room.

Pausing, those dark eyes boring into yours. You hold the gaze, still curled on the ground next to the edge.

A small nod. Just a little jerk of his chin.

Your answering smile is equally small, before you push yourself back up. Heading over to stick another log into the fire, from the iron rack just off to the side.

There’s an understanding, after.

You were a threat, until you’re weren’t. Until they sniffed you out and you passed some unspoken test, somewhere between that first sleepless night, and now.

Their guards aren’t down. Not completely. Yours isn’t either. But there’s an ease to your steps, as you move around the space together. A sleep that comes a little more soundly at night.

Because, you’re not alone anymore.

———

She reads to him, sometimes. The books you pluck from the shelves and leave for her to find.

Keeping Joel company as he stays bedridden a little while longer.

He had tried to get up, on that fourth day. A wince that crumpled his face as he pushed himself up, Ellie’s scold of “what in the hell are you doing?” raining down as her arms braced on her hips.

The look of alarm on his face still makes you want to laugh, days later.

You’re cooking dinner as she reads another chapter - secretly pleased that she seems interested in one of the volumes you treasure. The pages dog-marked, the spine cracked, and cover faded.

Warming up canned pasta in the Dutch oven simmering over the fire, listening to her words as you stir.

“It was after tea-time; it was pouring with rain, and had been all day; his hood was dripping into his eyes, his cloak was full of water; the pony was tired and stumbled on stones; the others were too grumpy to talk.”

“Sounds familiar.” She adds as an aside - her words filling the space as her eyes peek his way every few lines, to see if he’s listening.

Tripping over the names of the dwarves and locations with the confidence only a teenager could have.

"And I'm sure the rain has got into the dry clothes and into the food-bags," thought Bilbo. "Fuck burgling and everything to do with it!”

“Ellie.”

A tired lid cracks open - he had been listening after all, “He didn’t say fuck.”

She sighs, eyes rolling as she slumps in her seat, “Well, he should be allowed to. After the way they barged in and messed all his shit up.”

You grin, from your crouch near the fire, “Mm. I agree with her on this one.”

Clearly outvoted, he rolls onto his side, facing the back of the couch. Pointedly ignoring her as she runs through a few more reasons why she’s right.

Giving up, her voice a stage-whisper - hand cupped around her mouth as if telling you a secret, “He’s just pissed because I compared him to Gandalf earlier. Old and cranky.”

Joel’s head turns, a glare hurled in her direction - her grin as she pulls the book up again. Your own teeth biting the inside of the cheek to hide your smile.

But from your angle, you don’t miss the way his face softens.

The small smile, as he settles back down.

———

It's not long before you all get a little antsy.

Despite the much-needed company that Ellie and Joel bring into your home, after years of solitude it almost tipped into too much at times. Your cabin feels too small for you all to occupy the same space for the entire day, with Joel taking up most of the seating.

Even if at one time, there were many more. But it's been ages since then.

You're certain they feel the same. Not used to idleness.

The twice-daily walks you take around the perimeter of the fence helps. When he is finally able to move a little, sitting up instead of laying down.

Able to roam around the kitchen, eventually wandering outdoors. There, the air is lung-achingly crisp. A sizable porch that looks across the hill, across the miles of trees, down to the old barn.

Once the danger is over - once he starts to heal - that is where you spend some of the afternoons. The thick wooden walls keeping some of the chill out.

Close to cozy after you spend an afternoon putting a small fire pit together, the golden glow keeping all of you warm as Ellie brushes down Callus.

Finding treasures as she pokes around the storage in the first and second floor. A lot of it is supplies, things to be used for repairs.

Planks of wood, a crate filled with tools. A few barrels of gas for the generator - just for emergencies. The walls are lined with the things you use most often when tending the small field just outside - shovels, a pitchfork, an axe.

It's in these rooms that she finds a treasure - disappearing over a crate, until all you can see are the soles of her boots. Coming back up with an "oof", and something clutched in her hand. Covered in cobwebs from where it's laid hidden on the dusty floor.

A small, monobloc bow. You must have set it down one afternoon, and forgot. Trading it for something louder, stronger.

"Woah, this is cool." Ellie tries to pull the string back, the dull 'thump' as her fingers slip.

Still taut, after all this time. You smile as you hold your hand out, the muscles in your arm flexing as you pull it back with a smooth, practiced movement.

"I thought I lost this." You let go, the satisfying 'twang' as it snaps back into place, "Did you see any arrows?"

She's already scrambling back over - coming back with two clutched in her hand. A determined shine in her eyes as she asks breathlessly, "Can I try it?"

You glance over your shoulder, at the man sitting in one of the camping chairs. Staring idly into the flicker of the fire - a hand pressed against his side.

Once he was up, he started refusing medication.

Saying he was just fine. You had protested at first. That he needed it, that it would speed things along.

"'ve had worse." He eventually told you. When it was just the two of you - as you were getting ready to go to bed yourself, “You should keep it. In case someone needs it more."

Wanting to save it for you, or the next person that came along and needed help.

"We'd better ask your-" You catch yourself - correcting, "Uh, ask Joel."

Her nose wrinkles, "He lets me shoot his gun. I don't need to ask him about this."

That makes you laugh, your voice lowering as your head turns back to face her, "Maybe. But I think he will hate me a little less if we just ask, anyways. You get me?"

"He doesn't hate you. He's just..." Her face twists as she thinks, a vague wave of her hand, "Grumpy. Took him months to talk to me, and I'm a goddamn delight."

You had half-meant it as a joke, but her sweet reassurance warms you. Teeth biting your tongue to hold back another laugh.

Finding it surprising to think about how nice that would be, if it was true.

If he truly didn't.

Not knowing why you want his approval so badly. But it's something you've been thinking about since that first meeting. You want him to see you. To notice you.

Years of that piece of you missing, suddenly pushing to the surface like the first buds of spring.

"You sure are. Let's just check, anyways.”

She’s already bounding off, bow in hand. You watch as she asks, the way his eyes flick over the weapon, then back your way.

“Suppose you can.” Joel allows - after a long moment, “Don’t think I’m in the right shape yet to show you, though.”

Ellie wilts, clearly hoping he would. After a moment of hesitation, you join them.

“Been a bit, but I could set a little something up. For practice.” You offer.

The appraising look he gave the bow flits your way, down to the two aluminum arrows in your grip. His tongue poking his cheek as he thinks it through, before he nods.

“Alright.”

Ellie’s excitement is palpable, as she helps you drag out two bales of straw. A crude target drawn on some paper you grab from the house, fixed under the strings.

Standing at your shoulder as you grip the bow in your hand. Showing her how to notch the arrow, fitting the shaft against the arrow rest.

Drawing the string back to your cheekbone, as you aim for the middle of the target.

“You’ll get better the more you use it. This one doesn’t have a sight. Have to get a feel where the arrow aims,” You explain, feeling the tension in the string. “Use the point of the arrow.”

Inhaling a slow breath, holding it in.

A release, exhaling as it fires. Soaring across the yard, hitting just shy of the dark mark in the middle.

Not bad. You still got it.

Ellie’s whoop startles you - a fondness settling, after.

“Holy shit, that was so cool!” She gushes, as you hand it over. Glancing back over her shoulder, “Don’t you think, Joel?”

You can’t help but to turn, to glance his way. Where he’s caught, watching. Clearing his throat as he gruffly answers - his eyes meeting yours, before sliding away.

“Yeah. Real cool.”

———

He follows a half-dozen steps behind her.

Could never stand being cooped up for too long. Staying still made you a target, and this past couple weeks had made his skin itch. When it wasn't throbbing, or burning up.

The cold air makes his lungs ache, but at least he's moving. She hadn't protested, when he had shrugged on his coat. The exercise would do him good, help get him strong enough so they could leave.

Get back on the road.

Ellie had been watching, her feet kicked up on the coffee table. A different book on her lap, the pictures bright, even from here.

"Doing anything fun?" She asked, looking hopeful.

"Just a walk."

Her eyes sliding to the wide window, the snow falling that looked closer to sleet. Slumping further into her seat with a flat, "Eh, pass."

He hadn't pressed. Be happier if she stayed where it was warm.

"Lock up after us, okay?"

The words had come automatically, from deep in his mind. Ones that had been dormant for years, over twenty now. A lump in his throat as he ignored the woman's quick glance his way, before he pushed the screen door open - not waiting for an answer.

Now, her fingers trail across the wire fence, snow falling from the wooden posts when her gloves pass over it. Walking the perimeter, as he's noticed that she does - every morning and as the sun sets.

A small frown forms, the crease deepening between his eyebrows. Watching her fingers, the way the pom-pom on her hat bounces with each step.

He doesn't take well to kindness.

Before Boston, kindness got you killed. A weakness.

In the QZ, it came with a price. A debt, and he never liked owing - only collecting.

He wonders what his is, here.

Set off-balance by the situation he finds himself in. Unsure of his footing with this woman. One who seems frozen in time.

Everything about her and this place seemed to stop when the world went to hell.

The same sort of eerie feeling when he passed through the gate that led to Bill and Frank's place - an uneasy normalcy to everything, that felt unnatural.

So strange, how that could be.

Not quite sure what he thinks of her. There’s a hidden strength that he hadn’t seen at first. Not just anyone could have survived out here for so long. The way she handles the rifle, the bow, clear that she hasn’t been idle all these years.

Her eyes find his often, flicking away when he looks back. Catching the smallest details.

It makes him wonder what she thinks of him.

Actual words, instead of the thoughts he sees written so clearly on her face - gone in a blink when she collects herself. Still remembering the fear when they first met, though she hasn't worn that expression again.

Her smile is kind, he does know that much.

It comes easily for Ellie, a fondness already in the soft curves.

Sometimes, it comes for him, too.

Flakes from above settle on her knitted hat, clinging to her hair, her eyelashes - when her face turns, making sure he's still behind her.

A gun slung across her back, each step easy.

His own rifle is firm in his grip, eyes sweeping back and forth. There's nothing so far but miles of trees - natural slopes and dips. The occasional small creek to cross, not liking the way his body feels like it's moving a few seconds behind.

Discomfort flitting across his features, as he steps across the gap. A moment of imbalance, before he's on solid ground again.

Her hand twitches, as if wanting to hold them out to him. Thinking better of it, as they curl into fists.

A gentle suggestion instead - a nod at his rifle, "Don't have to carry that, if you don't want. Been ages since I saw a soul out here, 'sides Ellie."

He frowns at that, unsure.

But she moves ahead, hands shoved in the pockets of her oversized coat. Slowly, the strap goes around his head, slinging it across his back.

He isn't so slow that he couldn't grab it, if needed.

"You don't get Infected out here?" His voice is a rasp, hoarse from disuse.

Her head shakes as it turns, "Not here. Only see them if I go out."

A moment, his thoughts flickering back. To words he half-remembers, in that dark basement, "You said it wasn't safe. That you wouldn't have come."

She stops then, and he almost crashes into her. A hand steading himself on the wire fence, her face tilted up to his, but eyes not meeting.

"That was by you, not here."

"What was there?"

There's a beat, before she starts walking again. Her voice carrying over the wind, "The Infected aren't the only monsters out here. But both will sink their teeth into you, just the same."

He inhales a sharp breath - had heard about things like that. Desperate people, desperate measures. It sickens him, an uncomfortable roll of his stomach as she continues.

“It's damn lucky Ellie came this way, I'll just say that. That we all made it out of there without catching any notice was a miracle."

The thought about them touching a single hair on Ellie's head fills him with fury. Half-tempted to hunt them down himself, just to ensure it could never happen.

Injury be damned.

His voice low, deadly level, "They don't come this way?"

"No." Hers is equally firm, "Nobody comes this way, not if they know better. There's an old campground not too far from here. Rumor is that it's a nest of Infected, there. Completely overrun."

His steps stall at that, making him a further pace behind. She catches it, and her eyes roll, "It's just a rumor. People around here are superstitious."

He doesn't like her tone, her easy disregard. She hadn't seen the massacre at KC. The horror of all those bodies spilling from the ground, rushing faster than you could blink.

"How do you know?" The words have more bite than he means, enough that she's glancing back again.

She smiles at him then, the first he's seen since they left. Already so different than the first meeting in the basement, when that tone would have had her frozen to the spot.

"Because it's my rumor." The smile pulls a little wider, "There is a camp, sure. But the outbreak happened in September. Camp was over. Been there myself, it's empty."

A shrug, arms crossing over her chest, "Been telling it for the last ten years. Have had it told back to me by people I don't even know for the last three.”

At that, she starts moving along the trail again, "No one is coming out here."

He can't help the small smile that comes, just the slightest curve of his lips.

The gap between them closes, just a little.

———

Hmm, not here.

The large wooden chest closes - solid as you use it to sit on. To think.

Taking a moment, while you poke around the guest room - where she had started sleeping, now that Joel was awake. Looking for the old leather quiver, the extra arrows. Certain that they had to around here somewhere, since you haven't been able to find them in the usual places.

Ellie had been practicing. She's getting good - going out moat afternoons to fire at the bales. You've replaced the targets a few times already - finding some sturdy cardboard - moving them around the yard for variety.

But it was hard, chasing after the only two arrows she had.

You look up from your seat at the end of the bed, to find her standing in front of the closet.

Touching the shirts inside, always coming back to one to the far right side. Dark green plaid, patterned with charcoal and white stripes.

Startling, when you come up behind her - shoving the shirt back into place, "I don't think it's in here.”

"I'll have to check the attic." You answer. Pausing for a moment - before asking, "Did you like that shirt?"

Her cheeks pinken, "It's cool."

You smile, tugging it off the hanger. A memory from years ago surfaces - time spent together in front of the roaring fire.

The sleeves rolled up over strong forearms, your fingers sliding over the buttons. It's been well-loved - but in a way that makes the flannel soft and warm.

It makes you wonder if it still smells like smoke. Like them. If it clings to the memories like you do.

She takes it, holding it limply in her hands. Unsure what to do with it.

You help her, "You can have it, if you want. It could use a good home."

Make it seem like she's doing you a favor.

Her eyes dart down, uncertain - but the wanting wins out. Her zip-up jacket is shed, flung on the bed as she pulls it on over her long-sleeve tee.

It runs big, and she lets you roll the cuffs up to her wrists - the shirt hanging down around her thighs.

"Very 90s chic." You tell her, and she smiles as if she knows what that means. Maybe it's just the approval in your tone, and the unexpected gift.

Ellie parades out to the living room, where Joel was working - sorting through their gear.

"Check it out!" You can hear her laugh from here, the joy in her tone, "We match! Bet you just love that."

The last two words are drawn out, long and teasing.

You can't help but smile - picturing his face, and the grumble that follows.

Certain that he’s hiding his own small smile, as well.

——-

The dust makes you sneeze, the ladder wiggling beneath your feet. It's been ages since you've been up here. Never had a reason too - most everything had been tucked up here for a reason.

Either because it was taking up space. Or because it was too hard to bear. Boxes filled with treasures that aren't yours, from another life.

The floors creaking beneath your feet, as you finally step into the cramped space. A dim light filtering from the tiny square window in the back, the roof slanting so you have to crouch as you check the edges.

Sorting quickly through the piles of stuff that they thought they might have needed, but never used. Skipping over the cans of old paint, some old tools.

Eventually finding a crate that you had thrown a threadbare blanket over. A piece, clicking into place, when you see it. Where you had brought their weapons - unloading them before tucking them away. It had felt like looting, to take them.

Even if you could have used them, it felt wrong.

The yellow and red feathers of the arrows peek out from where the blanket pools on the floor. You scoop them up - 10 in all - along with the quiver they spill out of.

"Found them!" You call down, as Ellie's face peers up through the square scuttle hole. Kneeling on the dusty floor to lower it down to her, before wiping your hands on your jeans.

Taking another look - certain you won't be up here again for a long time. Hesitating, when there's a glint off the flashlight you borrowed. Moving a side table, an old chair aside, to get to it.

A frame, the edges carved and painted with gold. The photo inside is one you remember from when you first arrived. It used to hang above the fireplace - a painting of the mountains, capped with snow. Pockets of pines clustered together.

You measure it with your hands, and after a moment - you take it. Lifting it with two hands as you drag it towards the exit of the attic, glancing down.

Unsure how you're going to get it down there. Maybe if Ellie can grab the end - keep it steady until you can get a good grip on the ladder.

You call for her - but you get someone else instead.

He hovers at the base of the ladder, peering up like she did. Hair slicked back from the shower, grey-streaked - already starting to curl again at the temples. The sight has you clutching onto the frame a little more tightly.

Silently beckoning to you, with a curl of two fingers.

You have to kneel to lower the picture, carefully fitting it through the opening - waiting for him to take it. He grasps it with one hand, easily lowering it to the ground, as you climb down.

His other hand extends, the briefest touch at your hip when the ladder wobbles. You instinctively seek him out for balance, his hand firm and strong as your fingers wrap around - pressing into his palm.

Close enough now to smell the woodsy scent of the shampoo he used, clinging to his skin. Trying not to think about him in the shower, your shower, just moments before.

Your boots finally hitting the ground as his hand releases yours, fingers flexing.

The frame still in his other hand, making no effort to give it back.

"You redecorating?"

That makes you laugh as you fold the ladder up, closing the entrance to the attic again.

Starting to walk into the kitchen, his steps heavy behind yours. You pat the dinner table and he sets the frame there, as your head tilts towards the taped-up window.

You've spent time cleaning the floors, the sink beneath. But hadn't had the time to figure out how to fix the window that shattered.

Today seemed as good a day as any.

"Not exactly." Your eyes slide unconsciously to Ellie, pulling her boots on by the cabin door - the strap of the quiver around her shoulder, "Need to replace this window, figured I could use the glass in this."

Her eyes lift then, a look of guilt crossing her features.

"Ain't the right kind of glass." Joel muses, his voice flat as his thumb presses down against the edge of the frame.

His tone, the words, make you bristle. An embarrassment at not knowing, just thinking glass was glass.

Hand resting on your hips as you answer, "Well, it's better than a hole."

He glances up from where he leans on the table. Pose mirroring yours when he sees the flat press of your lips.

Words coming slowly, "Just don't want you gettin' cold. Glass ain’t as thick as it should be."

A pause, as he considers - as your cheeks heat, "But sure… it'll do."

"You oughta help her out, Joel." Ellie is pushing to her feet now - her voice turning proud as she glances his way, "He used to be a contractor."

Saying the title like it was something precious, something important. His expression turning into one you've come to recognize as embarrassment - when she pokes fun or brags about him.

It feels right - this little reveal. Explains a bit more about him. A lot can happen in twenty years, but you’ve watch the way he looks at things, examining them.

Even down to his frame. Broad shoulders - strong in a way that only hard labor can bring, muscles layered under the softness that comes with age.

A prickle runs from your neck down to your belly at this thought, and you tear your eyes away.

Watching as she opens the door, his call following her into the cold, "Don't go too far, okay? Stick close to the barn."

Her acknowledgment coming as the door bangs shut, leaving the two of you alone. Your arms fold instead, a small sigh as the defensive thoughts thaw. As he looks at you, hands shoving into his pockets.

"Don't know why she's pressing me to help," His voice is low, "Seems like you've been gettin' along just fine here."

You bite back a smile - knowing exactly why she offered. A form of repentance for breaking it in the first place - offering him up to do the work for her. Your eyes slide away, as you sigh.

Coming back, your arms slowly uncrossing, "I actually don't know what I'm doing. Not for something like this."

A small shrug, as you start to pick open the fasteners on the back, "Was just going to wing it."

His voice comes then, slowly and softly.

"I could show you."

The offer is genuine, this time. A rare moment where you meet each others eyes. The soft brown of his, ones that you've looked often in silent admiration.

Your nod is small, like the smile you let through.

"I'd love that."

He helps you peel back the tape, the air outside drifting in the opening - chilling the room. Taking down the bits of cardboard, examining the damage.

"How did this happen?"

"Oh, you know." You hedge, shrugging. Not wanting to explain, if Ellie hadn't already, "It happens."

His eyes flick sideways at you, but he doesn't press.

You help him tug the remaining shards of glass free from the frame. One splintering and jabbing the tip of a finger - a small hiss as you press it between your lips without thought.

As his eyes follow - snagging, lingering, for a long moment - before he's nudging you out of the way with his hip.

"Let me handle this part."

Watching as he finishes cleaning the frame, until it's ready for the glass.

Somewhere along the way - you find that he's the one doing all the work. Listening as he explains each step, as you make a batch of instant coffee for the two of you. His black, yours with a tiny bit of maple syrup - harvested from the ridge behind the cabin.

Taking the glass out of the picture frame, measuring it against the window. Marking a mark of the size, scoring it with a utility knife that he fishes out of the pocket of his heavy coat.

It's impressive, watching him work. Especially with what little tools you have - making his own putty with things found in storage. His thumb smoothing down the compound on the last edge, a quick glance your way that you miss.

"What did you do? Before." He asks - his interest catching you off guard.

Your hands wrap around the mug, "I, uh... didn't get a chance to be anything. I was still in college, when everything happened."

There's a low hum of sympathy. A quick lean out the window to check on Ellie when you don’t continue - before he's sitting down in one of the chairs. The frame left to dry, before he fits it back into place.

A knee bumping against yours as his legs adjust under the table, long legs spreading wide.

Fingers tracing the edge of the frame now, a stilted silence settling. Unsure if you are in the mood to delve into then. Thinking about what you could ask him instead, if that's what you're doing now.

Getting to know each other.

"You been traveling with Ellie long?" You wind up asking.

He gives you a long look, under the curls that have sprung free. A hand scratching the scruff of his beard - the dark hair flecked with grey - his eyes not leaving yours.

"Couple months. Since summer, best I can guess."

You nod - that was what she had told you, on that first journey to find him.

"You got a ways more to go?"

There’s nothing intentionally prying about your questioning. It just feels strange not to know anything about the people staying with you - little opportunity or an opening to ask before now.

Ellie offers some, but she nearly as wary as he is. More prone to narrate what’s going on, questions about the books she reads.

“Think so. Heading to Utah, once things clear up.”

His wound, and the weather.

Winter was harsh in Colorado - with the heavy snow, it was near impossible not to get lost in the dense lines of trees. Assuming you didn’t freeze to death, first.

“Is it hard? Traveling with someone so young, I mean.” You can’t help but think about them. Wondering what life would have been like, if you had gotten home in time, “Just, the responsibility and all…”

It’s a selfish question. You don’t even know what you want his answer to be. The pause stretches longer then, and you're sure you've pushed too far.

"I'm sorry. You don't-" You start, but then he's answering.

“It is.” Eyes tracing the wood grain of the table, “But it’s not my first time. Lookin’ after someone her age."

Falling silent for good, after that.

The realization aches. Pieces fitting together - things he's said, almost on instinct. Old words from another time. How he looks out for Ellie - a softness under the gruff exterior.

You reach for him - moving slowly. Giving him time to pull his hand back, to retreat.

But it stays in place, a twitch of his fingers as they open - making room. Letting yours curve around them, like before.

You give them a squeeze, just a soft acknowledgment.

After a moment, he squeezes back.

Thanks for reading! 💖 would love to know what you thought!

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