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heartpascal · 1 year

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you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

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It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin’ a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

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Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

“Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

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After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn��t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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ericsprincess · 3 months

Text

wanna take a look inside you

nc-17, stalker!Jaemin, Jaemin/female reader, cunnilingus, crack

~~~

Your stalker really cares about you.

~~~

Why the fuck is it snowing again? Just why? you groan, as soon as you open your eyes and see all the fluffy snowflakes falling behind your window.

You reluctantly roll out of your warm bed and start getting ready for the day. You should be rushing through your morning routine, since you have to get to work, but you’re almost deliberately slow. You’re just trying to delay the inevitable, which is having to shovel half a meter of snow out of your driveway and your car, and scrape off the ice from your car windows. You’re seriously considering calling in sick, just to not have to deal with standing outside in snow and fighting your flimsy plastic shovel and tiny ice scraper.

You’re pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you stop at the sudden glimpse out of your kitchen window. What the hell.

Your driveway is already nicely and precisely shoveled, with all the snow neatly piled up on one side. Not only that, your car is completely cleaned, covered with only a small layer of freshly fallen snow, indicating that whoever took mercy on you did it only a while ago.

You sit down behind the table and absentmindedly scratch behind your dog's ears while chewing on toast.

Maybe one of the neighbors did it? Or maybe there is some kind of a community service? Which is weird. You just moved into this area and by the looks of it you would expect to get your car stolen rather than cleaned.

Hmm, you think. Maybe the neighborhood here isn’t that bad.

(Narrator voice: It is actually that bad.)

~~~

Ironically, a few days later you do end up calling in sick. The cold winter weather got to you and after an evening of feeling like shit you woke up with fever, sore throat, and no will to live.

You blindly feel around your bed to search for your phone, eventually finding it under your dog (Oof, move, you fat fuck), and call Jaemin from HR, in your office also known as Hot Jaemin from HR, to inform him that you’re taking a sick day.

He picks up immediately after the first ring and with his completely pleasant, friendly, and only slightly creepy deep voice, he takes your note and wishes you to get well soon. He even asks if there are some work related heads up to pass to your coworkers, just like the nice and considerate guy he always is. If only every coworker was like Jaemin (nice, competent and hot), work would be much more bearable, you sigh. Sometimes he even sits down with you for lunch in the breakroom and offers you some home baked pastry while he talks about his cats. Really, just an overall nice guy.

You finally hang up and burrow yourself back under the covers, when you notice the time on your phone. 6:58. Huh? I must be delirious, you think hazily, already drifting back to sleep. He’s not even supposed to be at work yet.

~~~

When you finally emerge from your supposed delirium (also known as common flu) two days later, both of which you spent almost entirely just sleeping, you take a gloriously good hot shower and head to the kitchen, wondering what you will be able to scavenge from the fridge.

Thankfully, it seems well stocked. So you quickly make a sandwich with some fresh ham and vegetables, scarf it down like a madwoman, after barely eating for two days and put the plate into the sink.

The dishes are also done.

The house is actually pretty spotless, you squint as you look around. Even more than usual - no socks anywhere, no cups with forgotten tea. Dog looks fed and happy.

The laundry machine beeps to announce that it’s finished.

Wow, it must have been really bad, because I don’t remember doing any of that. Good job, sick me, you mentally pat yourself on your shoulder.

~~~

You open the door to get out of your house for a nice walk and you stop dead in your tracks.

What the actual everloving fuck.

Right in front of your doorstep there is a line of six mice, nicely ordered and completely dead, and you barely manage to prevent your dog from taking a good sniff.

You retreat back to your house, pulling the dog with you and you lock all the locks on the door.

You don’t even own a cat?

~~~

You would swear the oil change light in your car was blinking for the past two months. Like, it had been mocking you and your procrastination. You felt bad about it, but ignored it, because who would want to deal with it unless you really have to?

Well, it’s not blinking today.

Which must mean only one thing - the light is broken now too. Which might also mean some electronic failure.

You frown. Karma for being lazy found you and there goes your free Saturday.

And then it finds you again 2 hours later for being an idiot, when it turns out the oil does not need to be changed and the whole electronic system in your car is working alright. You made the mechanic check twice because you could swear you’re not making it all up, just to end up looking like a dumbass in front of the whole shop.

You go home in shame and then you dig out the car manual you once threw into a cupboard and never read.

~~~

Ugh, this guy again. You fight the urge to run, but he has already noticed you and you don’t want to look weak. Or afraid. But you are, a little.

Walking on the same street, your creepy neighbor is approaching you from the opposite direction and you’re already bracing yourself.

He never lets you go just with “Hello,” he always tries to flirt creepily and invite you for coffee, last time he even tried to grab your hand. You shudder at the memory. You hate these kinds of slimebags and their audacity. But you’re afraid he might snap if you really tell him off.

So, you’re not sure what to do, you’re always just distantly polite and doing your best to not give him any signal that he might interpret as his attention being welcome.

But you did start bringing pepper spray with you and going everywhere with your dog. Not like this fat fuck could ever protect your from anything, but still. For mental support. (But seriously, why is it getting so fat? You make a mental note to take him on longer walks, despite the shitty neighborhood.)

He’s getting closer and you’re already feeling the anxiety, when he swiftly crosses the road to get to the opposite side of the street. He walks faster. It’s like he’s avoiding you. Not only that, but he’s limping and his nose is bandaged as if it were broken.

What could have happened to him? you wonder. Maybe he bothered the wrong girl and her boyfriend went to teach him to leave women alone, you chuckle. Who knows.

~~~

You suddenly startle out of your sleep to the sound of breaking glass. It's a deep night but you are barely gathering your wits from being so crudely woken up, but you can hear a strange commotion from downstairs.

Burglars, is your first thought. You’re shaking hard but you slowly and silently tiptoe to your closet to get a broom, the only weapon you can think of right now. A broom in one hand and your phone in the other, with the police dialed up, just waiting to press a call, you pad down the stairs to your living room where the sound came from.

The lights are already on. And in there there is-

“Jaemin??? What are you doing here?” you scream.

Right in the middle of your living room is Hot Jaemin from HR, disheveled and slightly out of breath, and just about to finish hog-tying a masked man. He pulls the rope tightly and kicks the man into the ribs for good measure. He stands up and turns to you with a bright and wide smile.

“Y/N! Go to sleep, I got it!” he says happily and throws you a thumbs up. He ignores the question.

“B-But-” you take a step forward but Jaemin stops you.

“Be careful, Y/N, there is glass. I threw a vase at him, that fucker really thought he can mess with me like that,” he snorts. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll clean it up and deal with this bag of dicks.” he urges you gently.

“H-How are you going to deal with him?” you’re confused. Jaemin’s smile gets even wider.

“I’ll deal with him, I have tools in my car. Don’t worry about it.” he brushes you off.

“You know what, I’ll just call the police,” you wave your phone, barely out of shock from what just happened.

“Okay,” Jaemin sighs with dramatic exasperation. “But it will take forever while you could have just left it to me and gone to sleep.”

You squint at him suspiciously and press the dial.

~~~

“So, that would be all, Mrs. Y/L/N. We will contact you about the further proceedings,” the police officer clicks his pen off and gathers his papers. Your kitchen is still flashing red and blue from police cars parked outside.

“Thank you, officer, I really appreciate it,” you beep back at him. This police thing turned out to be a lot more serious and lengthy than you expected.

“Don’t thank me, miss, you should thank your..uhhh…” he looks up at Jaemin, who is standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders.

“Husband,” Jaemin offers, with his signature bright smile and you fight the urge to step on his foot.

“Yeah, that. Anyways, if you have any questions, call us. Good night!” he salutes you with two fingers and brusquely walks out of your house. The cars leave one by one and then you’re alone. With Jaemin.

You turn back to him.

“I am not sure what to think about all of this, but thank you, I guess. But I have a lot of questions and I want answers to all of them,” you stick a finger right in the middle of his chest.

“Okay, of course. Whatever you want, Y/N,” Jaemin offers. It’s the first time you see him look anything else but bright and cheerful. He looks almost unsure.

“I’m now going to sleep and if I find out you’re still in this house, I’ll call the police again. On you.” you threaten. “You have 2 minutes to leave,” you add and pointedly look at the clock on your kitchen wall.

“Oh, okay, let me just…” he gathers his rope that the cops left behind and his jacket and hurriedly slips on his shoes. He’s in the door in thirty seconds, waving at you.

“See you at work!” he squeezes your hand briefly and runs out of your house.

Why do I always attract these weirdos, you sigh and drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom. You fling yourself on the bed and you suddenly really feel how tired and exhausted you are from all the adrenaline. It would be really for the best to just sleep, you decide and crawl under the covers.

But the sleep is not coming, you’re just thinking about everything that happened. You keep tossing and turning, ending up staring out into your bedroom window.

Suddenly, a phone display lights up in the crown of a nearby tree. You decide to pointedly ignore it and you flip to the other side, turning your back to the window. You grab your dog, who’s been snoozing peacefully throughout the whole night and snuggle into his white fluffy fur to sleep.

~~~

The next day at work you don’t waste any time. After throwing your bag at your desk you change direction right into the HR office.

You don’t knock, just let yourself in, meeting Jaemin who is currently sitting behind his desk, unpacking his things for a day. He looks up at you, smiling.

You cross your arms and point at the nametag on his desk that says “Na Jaemin, Head of HR” with your chin.

“Ironic, huh?”

“What’s ironic?” he straightens up, smile unwavering.

“I can’t even report you, you asshole.” you frown. “And I don’t really want to go to the police because you did save my life.”

“Well that’s bad.“ he nods solemnly.

“It really is. So… Care to explain what you were doing at my house?”

“Guarding you?” he answers like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wh-guarding?? From what?” you ask incredulously. Oh. “Okay don’t answer.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You know that as a head of HR I have access to aaaaaaaaaalllll of your records, right?” he spins his pen between his fingers. “So I really couldn’t help but notice you moved into a really shitty location, Y/N. Really, there? I know how much you make, you don’t need to live there at all.”

“I’m saving money for my own house, okay?” you answer defensively. You couldn’t have possibly known it would be that bad. You thought that everyone was just exaggerating. “Why were you even keeping tabs on my address?” you ask him accusingly.

Jaemin just keeps looking at you, smiling. It’s unnerving. Like a shark about to eat you, but with joy.

“...so you’re not gonna answer?” you frown. Of course.

“I mean, isn’t that obvious?” he drawls, tilting his head as if he were mocking you. And you think it should be obvious, but at the same time, you never know what’s going on in Jaemin’s head.

You sigh. “You know, next time JUST ASK ME OUT YOU MORON!”

“Oh, yeah, I could have done that…” he startles with realization. “I guess I was too preoccupied.”

“With what? Figuring out my daily patterns? Putting a GPS tracker on my car?”

“How did you find that?” he asks surprisingly, pulling up his phone to check.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Come on, you have dealt with worse. And he’s really hot *and* whipped, even though he has a particular way about it. And he saved your life. You could have a use for him.

“Drive me home.”

“Sure,” he gets up immediately, picking up his jacket.

“You’re not even gonna question me wanting to leave work just like that?”

“Who do you think is processing your attendance records?” he winks at you and leads you out of his office to the parking lot with a hand on your waist

~~~

“By the way, you didn’t answer.” you say while fighting with the seatbelt while Jaemin starts the car. “What were you doing at my house?”

“Uh. Is this now the time to tell you I’ve been sleeping in front of your bedroom door for the past few weeks?”

You can literally taste the headache coming.

“I don’t think there is ever a good time for that.”

~~~

You open the door to your house and let both you and Jaemin in. Your dog comes running to welcome you and you’re not even surprised that it actually ignores you in favor of running into Jaemin, who doesn’t wait to start playing with him, laughing and telling him what a good boy he is.

More like a traitor. You frown at Jaemin pulling out a treat out of his jeans pocket and your dog chasing it hungrily as Jaemin teases him. Sold me for a piece of snack.

“Let’s go upstairs before I change my mind.”

“Sure,” smiles Jaemin and stands up, suddenly taking a hold of you and picking you up over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“Hey! Put me down!” you yell at him, grabbing his ass and squeezing it. “I will fucking bite you!”

“Leave that for later…” he drawls in his creepy flirty voice as he walks up the stairs. He takes you to your bedroom and gently lowers you down on your bed.

You really like the view from under him. He leans down to kiss your neck.

“Hey Jaemin..” you begin.

“Hmmm?” he mumbles, continuing to kiss and lick your neck while his hands are working on taking your clothes off.

“While you were sleeping outside my bedroom…Heards anything weird?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure I heard my name at least once,” he bites into your collarbone. He takes off your shirt and pinches off the hooks of your bra in a second and you help take it off you.

“And you still didn’t think of asking me out?” you ask disbelievingly. He pulls back a little and you get distracted by his shoulders. You start unbuttoning his shirt, just to reveal his beautiful full chest and muscular arms. Nice.

“You said Doyoung’s name once too.” he shrugs. He doesn't really meet your eyes.

“Oh yeah, Doyoungie from accounting…Haven’t seen him in a while, I wonder how he's doing…”

“He asked for a transfer. Doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about him,” says Jaemin once again back to his bright smile and leans down to you, now fully committed to undressing you as soon as possible. He pulls off your pants together with your panties and lets his shirt slide off his body as well.

“What are you gonna do?” you ask, while he shifts down your body. You instinctively spread your legs.

“Apologize,” he says while looking into your eyes and straight up dives into your pussy.

You can tell he’s really sorry. He’s putting all the enthusiasm into eating you out, trying really hard to figure out what makes you tick and then applying it tenfold. You can feel him smile the moment you start making sounds.

You can feel yourself being close to coming and you try to tell him by pulling his hair, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He knows it already and he continues to flick his tongue over your clit even as you come, holding you by your thighs firmly so you don’t move too much to slip out of his hold. Once your orgasm starts to fade, he eases up a little, switching to slower, gentle licks with flat tongue, while you catch your breath, but in a minute, he’s back at it, relentlessly stimulating you as if you didn’t even have a choice about whether you want another round or not.

You can only applaud his skill and stamina and let him make you come, with absolutely no guidance, for the second time, barely a couple minutes after the first one.

While you’re coming down from your orgasm, feeling all liquid and brainless, Jaemin disentangles himself from your legs and crawls up the bed to drag you into his arms.

You turn to kiss him when you realize he hasn’t even taken off his jeans yet. You slide your hand to rub over his hard cock a little and he sighs and nuzzles into your neck. “Do you want…” you start.

“No. I haven’t deserved it yet,” he breathes out. “I’m already close though…” He looks like he’s fighting himself on that.

“Oh really?” you grin, and rise up to look better at his flushed face. “Well then get back to work?” you pull him by his (insanely attractive) sex hair. He whines, you don’t know if it's from pain or arousal, but it doesn’t matter.

“I’m going to sit on your face now, okay?” you whisper to him.

“Uhhhh uhhh,” he closes his eyes.

“Great. If you come, this one doesn’t count,” you laugh, and swing one leg over his leg to kneel over him.

~~~

You’re lying in your bed, sweaty and tired and almost falling asleep in Jaemin arms, when you suddenly remember.

“Hey, actually...what about the mice?”

He turns and smiles at you with a full Cheshire cat smile. Way too many teeth.

"Well..."

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oromaangel · 2 months

Text

A Family Day at the Beach

Nanami Kento x fem! Reader

Tags: Pure sweet almost sickly fluff, Domestic, pregnancy, SFW, Alternative Universe, I was watching a bunch of Nara Smith videos and needed an outlet before I ended up getting married and having a real-life baby

w/c: 2,083

Based on this moodboard I made

For reference son is around 5 years old, older daughter is around 3, baby is almost 1 and the fetus is a fetus.

Dividers by @soulari

Nanami walked leisurely across the shore line of Kuantan watching his son and daughter in pure amusement as they poked and prodded at a displeased crab.

He had warned them earlier to leave the animal alone, that its claws would pinch their little fingers however, they insisted that the crab come back to live in their sand castle and that it had simply lost its way home. He couldn’t argue with that.

So for the better part of half an hour he had joined his kids in the slow journey guiding “Mr. Grabs” back home. And finally after a lifetime of traversing the sand dunes, the sand castle was in view.

“Almost there Mr. Grabs” his daughters sweet voice offered words of encouragement gently tapping the crabs hard exterior with a twig in the hope to jolst in further ahead. His son however, has grown restless over this whole ordeal.

“UGHHHH Can this thing be any slower” his son puffed, squeezing at his blonde tendrils in frustration. Nanami let out a breathy laugh recounting that at least all the lessons he had taught them both on patience had an effect on one of the children.

In that moment of positive recollection, he glanced upwards towards the sky soaking in the warmth from the rays above.

Big Mistake.

His knee-length clone identified this slight second of distraction from the adult present which gave him enough time to make his move. Nanami should have expected this, kids are like predators, waiting for a moment of weakness from their prey (their parents) before striking and doing something stupid. Alas just as quickly as his happy memories started to play, it ended with the shrill shriek of his daughter.

“Put him down” she screamed as she watched her brother pick up Mr Grabs and run in the direction of the sand castle. Before Nanami could open his mouth she had taken off after her brother, swinging her plastic toy shovel in the air. Standing there in the cloud of sand dust left by his children Nanami mused the idea of yelling at both of them to stop knowing they would both immediately listen but something tickled in the back of his head reminding him that this would be a great parenting lesson to have up his sleeve so he resigned to watching this small bout of madness play out already knowing how it would end.

His son looked back at his sisters expression taunting her with a toothy grin “I’m just faster than you-“

“Three, two, one…” like magic Nanami counted in his head and as soon as the clock struck midnight his son’s face began to contort. First confusion, then pain, then….

Every beachgoer in the near vicinity, grimaced at the ear splitting scream let out by the little boy as he began to flay his arm attempting to unattach a very pissed off crab from his appendage. Pushing the smug parent grin to the back of his mind Nanami approached the panicked child and removed the crustacean from his body, tossing it to the side and watching as it hurriedly scuttled away.

“Errrrr, Kento!” Your voice slashed through the moment “When I said watch the kids, watching them get bitten by crabs was not what I had in mind!” You grumbled, awkwardly manoeuvring yourself upwards, your round pregnant belly throwing off your centre of gravity causing you to stumble slightly in your ascent. Beside you your youngest child babbled happily in the sand, unaware of the distress her older siblings were in.

Nanami grinned sheepishly “It’s alright dear no one got hurt” he held the blushing boys arm as proof of his claim “Lie back done and get some rest” he cooed sweetly. Although your eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he could feel the daggers aimed in his direction before you sighed and laid back down in the sun chair, picking back up the mother magazine you were reading.

He knelt down wordlessly and analysed the boy's wound, the finger was pinched pink but otherwise no skin was broken and no damage was caused other than to his ego. Smiling sweetly at his son, his lecture to the sniffling child on patience and respecting animals had begun in the most serious tone he could muster with that heavenly ‘Told you so’ feeling swimming in the back of his mind. His son stared at the ground, he hated being scolded by Nanami despite the fact his father never raised his voice or berated him his tone always carried a serious level of discipline and respect that could make a bird feel bad for singing. Nanami didn't like scolding either but he knew it was important to ensure his children stayed on the right path and represented him and his wife's hard work well. The boy nodded wordlessly once Nanami had reached his concluding message and reached out to hug his father's open arms buring his face into the older man's chest.

This was your fourth child with Nanami yet you were still a bundle of nerves preparing for their arrival. Being so close in age with your youngest (completely unplanned on your part, SOMEONE can’t keep their hands and other body parts to themselves) you worried about dividing your attention equally between the under twos and also how much sleep you would be able to get with breastfeeding two mouths.

You had read countless advice columns and mommy blogs warning about the dangers of having kids too close in age, critiquing mothers with large families on their ability to love and provide attention to all their children equally, and seen countless posts warning about the dangers of just about everything you currently did raising your young family. Doubt began to fill your head and despite having three little ones you felt like a new mother learning to do the correct things all over again.

Nanami did his best to ease your anxiety with foot rubs and affirming words reminding you that you both were a team and that he was ready to take on the sleepless nights again, even suggesting hiring a full time nanny to live in the house during the first few months to make the newborn stage easier. You declined his offer, despite home-care being cheaper in Malaysia it would still eat into a large chuck on his savings that could be allocated better elsewhere. Plus you had just watched a video of kids saying that they liked their nanny more than their moms which only added to your growing anxiety.

Nanami had noticed your behaviour change, especially after you began to second guess whether or not you'd vaccinate the baby and seriously discussed giving birth at home in the tub with no nurse or midwife. He shot down these ideas immediately, insisting that he would not be putting you or his children through that extra stress based on conspiracy theories and fear-mongering. He had started to worry about how all the 'online garbage' was affecting your sanity and mental health during your third trimester and insisted on having a no-technology day at the beach to ease your worries.

After another great parenting lesson was concluded Nanami made his way towards his moody wife. Your grouchiness never bothered him, in fact, it was one of his favourite parts of pregnancy. Seeing you become tender and over-emotional and knowing exactly how to squeeze a smile out of you in those moments was his greatest pleasure and partially why you both had formed a little league football team worth of children in such a short amount of time.

“There are my sweet girls” he approached the cheery baby on the ground first, casually removing the fist full of sand that was making its way to her open mouth and peppering kisses across her chubby cheeks causing her to bubble over in laughter. Music to his ears.

“And my favourite girl” he grinned placing the baby on his hip and crouching beside you on the chair. You glanced away from your magazine and scoffed at the slight on your husband’s over-exaggerated kissy face he was making at you.

“No kisses for me?” He asked playfully cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes and placed a single chaste kiss on his lips but before you could pull yourself away, you felt a large hand on the back of your neck , keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss. You mumbled incoherently into his mouth for a second before giving in to the affection placing a soft hand on the side of his face. After what felt like an eternity, this kiss was interrupted by a small disapproving smack from the baby on his side who began claw at both of your faces clearly distressed by this public display of affection.

Giggles enveloped the both of you whilst affectionately watching the baby crawl back to the pile of toys in the sand once placed on the ground.

“Still reading that magazine love? Nanami asked glancing at the the object in question “Honestly, we’ve done this three times already I don’t know what other advice you could possibly need or how much more equipment we could fit in the nursery” he grunted as he stood up from the sand balancing at the edge of your sun-bed.

Rolling your eyes you folded up the magazine placing it out of sight “There’s always some thing new to learn with these things, like the new Montessori school opening nearby and there’s these baby bottles that are shaped like real nipples to help with latching, and a bassinet that rocks the baby for you! It’s called the SNOO it’s about eight thousand Ringgits but we can buy it second hand” Nanami playfully groaned at your rambling shifting his body until he laying between your thighs leaving small kisses where he could reach.

“Are you even listening to me Kento? I said it says here that plastic nappies are actually bad for babies skin and that plastic bottles can cause eczema” He hummed absentmindedly in response resulting in a pout from you and a flick to the forehead.

Brushing off your annoyance he pointed his finger in the direction of your two oldest children who were engrossed in a very intense game of tag “Look over there love”

You winced slightly at the blow your daughter had delivered to her brother back once she caught up with him suppressing your giggle as he face-planted into the floor before getting up and taking after his assailant at full speed.

“And over here” he again pointed to the baby playing “Can I eat that?” in the sand beside them.

“You raised all of these kids just fine without all that nonsense, we’re going to be just fine” he kissed your thighs again caressing small circles into you while his eyes remained half-lidded.

You huffed again staring down at your caring husband allowing yourself to relax at his touch. Maybe he was right, all your babies were happy and healthy and you kept them alive for this long and anonmom2567 couldn't be THAT much better at parenting than you afterall.

"You're probably right Ken" you sighed again closing your eyes and relaxing back into the sunbed, he smiled lazily into your thighs content that his plan had worked and that he could reduce some of his wife’s troubles. The sound of gentle waves and chatter lulled you both into comfortable silence appreciating the wonderful weather, coastal air, and beautiful sky.

Of course as a parent silence meant trouble was afoot.

After a few minutes of this blissful silence you turnt to find your baby was not at her pile of blocks. You immediantly shot up and began to scan the area horrified to see your baby a considerable distance away (how'd she even crawl that fast???) at another families beach set up eating a popsicle from a cooing older lady.

"Aren't you just the most precious little angel" she fawned over your littlest one who was already scanning what they would eat next.

Not only that your oldest son had decided that the most adequet punishment for the slap he had recieved earlier was digging his younger sister neck deep in the sand.

Nanami followed your eyes to the scenes before him and let out a loud laugh, getting up to dig out the now-crying child while you retrieved your baby escape artist.

You were going to be just fine.

A/N: My second public fic omgggg hope you enjoyed. I was binge watching a bunch of Nara Smiths content and decided that I need to write my own young family AU before I messed around and married a mormon

#jujustu kaisen #nananmi kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen au

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 3 months

Text

gaming with him

(cw: they play a shooter video game (might contain inaccuracies); age gap 25/41, nsfw, MDNI, smutty smutt with some butt stuff, bit of spanking; evolving their dynamic a little more)

the part before: talking on the phone

Ding dong.

Oh, that must be him. I put the ladle down and hurry to the front door. I open it up and his tall stature is filling the whole doorframe. His broad shoulders, the worn leatherjacket almost brushing the sides.

“Hi.”, he says, smiling at me, his long dark hair falling to the front as he looks down at me.

“Hi.”, I smile up at him and step to the side to let him in.

He almost hits his head when he steps through the door, the top of his hair brushing even as he ducks down. “Ah shit.”, he curses, and I laugh, before I get cut off by his lips on mine. A short, but big kiss.

“Sorry, my apartment isn’t made for giants.”, I say, as I close the door behind him.

He pulls of his shoes, the huge combat boots falling to the floor, before he puts them neatly on the shoe rack.

“I noticed that. Your bed is so tiny, last time I actually hit my head when I woke up.”, he tells me, a jokingly pouty grimace contorting his serious features.

“Awww, you need me to put a kiss on it?.”, I say, teasing him.

But he actually bows down until I see the top of his head. I laugh again, grabbing his face, coming closer to press my lips to his hair with his loud smooch.

“Better now?”, I ask, when he straightens back up.

“Much better.”, he says, shedding the leatherjacket, hanging it up right next to mine.

“Any other body parts you need kissed better?”, I tease him. And I half suspect him to just whip his dick out. I mean, I wouldn’t mind.

“Doncha know it.”, is all he says, while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes, not being able to stop grinning. "Come on, big guy. I uh- actually cooked for us. I hope, that's okay.", I say.

He shoots me an amused look. "You cooked, how dare you.", he jokes with a serious expression on his face, following me to my kitchenette where the pasta is still bubbling away on the stove.

"No, it's uh veggie bolognese, so we can both eat it. I made it, so it has a bunch of protein, though.", I explain.

His hand strokes over my back until it rests against my waist, as he stops beside me. "I won't crumble into bits, if I don't have all of the macronutrients perfectly balanced for one meal. So, don't worry about that, okay?", he tells me.

I nod. "Okay.", giving the sauce another stir.

"Thanks for cooking for me.", he says.

I beam up at him. "You're welcome."

When the pasta is ready, I fix us two plates, a BIG portion for him and a smaller one for me, and we sit at the little table in my living room, that I barely use to eat at. Most of the days I just have dinner in front of my computer.

Mimi is not leaving him alone, the little minx totally enamored with the huge man, sitting on his lap while he eats. I offer to take her off his hands, but he refuses. The big metalhead with the black kitty that almost doesn’t show up against his dark clothes. Patting the small purring ball of fur, his big, tattooed fingers scratching her head, while he shovels the pasta into his face with the other one. It’s a picture for the gods. I lift my phone and snap a quick pic, his eyebrows shooting up at the same time as I press the shutter to save the moment.

After dinner I show him around my apartment which is done with a twirl around the main room and opening one door. I mean, he already knows the bedroom and the bath, so I don’t need to show them to him.

But I drag him into my “office” which is more like a hobby gaming room. It only has a desk and a bookshelf which isn’t anywhere near as impressive as his. He still inspects the books, his eyes lingering on my collection of classic romance novels and the anniversary edition of Lord of the Rings.

“I forgot the books I picked out at your place by the way.”, I comment.

“Pity.”, he says, shooting an amused look my way. “Seems like you have to drop by again someday.”

“Pity.”, I echo, grinning up at him.

He turns to look at me, sitting in my chair, and his gaze pans to the computer screen.

“So, games, huh?”, he asks, his voice sounding as vague as his question.

I chuckle. “Yeah, games.” I can see interest peek through the grimace on his face. “I have a lot. Too much, I can’t play them all. From Animal Crossing and Mario Kart, Baldur’s Gate and Witcher 3, to WoW, Counterstrike, ... Plus a bunch of strategy and puzzle games.”

“I don’t know what any of those games are, so you can tell me all about them.”, he says, leaning over the back of my chair.

“You never played any or just no shooter games?”, I ask him, recalling what we talked the night before on the phone.

He shrugs. “When I was younger, a friend of mine had a console where we played Super Mario, but yeah, didn’t have one of my own. Or a PC. And then later I didn’t really get into it anymore. You know, other stuff to do.”

“Yes, I see.”, I say, smiling up at him from my chair. “You wanna try?”

“Uh sure, but you gotta show me the controls.”, he answers.

I get up and let him take a seat. I want to scream (internally) when I see the big man in my gaming chair, his stature way too tall for one that is fitted to my size, almost bursting out of the seat. The backrest isn’t high enough to support his head. His thighs press against the armrests. It looks ridiculous, but he grins at me.

“So, Counterstrike? Or Animal Crossing?”, I quip, while I start the first game on my computer.

I put my headset on his head and show him how to move, the most important shortcuts. How to aim and shoot. And the ridiculous nature of our situation right now is everything but lost on me. I let him try the shooting range first, instead of queueing up for a match, I’m not a total monster.

He looks at the screen, inspecting all of the pistols and rifles. Starting to list stuff off as he goes through them, talking more than I ever heard him talk before. I just listen to him rambling like a madman who finally gets to talk about his hyperfixation as he explains the differences of the various types and models, the recoil, the spray. All the stuff I never bothered with when playing those games.

He finally found a few that are to his liking, and he chooses one of them.

Actually playing the game though? He fails miserably. Running into everything, like a bull in a china shop. He’s just aimlessly pressing buttons, his big fingers hitting more than one key on the keyboard all the time. If it was possible, he would have knocked everything over.

His shot? You couldn’t even call that aim. My small computer mouse is too small for his big hand, the sensitivity too high for him. I dial it down a bit, which helps, and I try to coach him through it, telling him which buttons to press, but I can see that frustration sets in.

“Come on, you almost had it there.”, I cheer him on, as he misses another one of the targets.

He grabs me and pulls me into his lap. "You play, I'm better at this stuff in real life." and puts the headset on my head.

"Wait, I’m not sure the chair can support both our weight!", I say.

But he doesn't let go of me, letting his head rest on my shoulder and pulling me closer. "If it breaks, I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he grumbles.

"You mean like the panties you ruined?”, I ask pointedly, hiding a little grin. The panties he ripped while we were fucking and never replaced.

“Uh, maybe.”, he answers, his face contorting into an apologizing grimace.

I laugh a little at that. “I’m just teasing you.”, I say. Pushing the one side of the headphones back to hear him better.

I adjust the height of the seat and come closer to the desk again. His one arm snakes around my waist, while his other hand strokes down my thigh. The fingers softly squeezing the supple flesh. I try not to let it deter me, as I queue up for a new match.

I shoot him a look, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor as his thumb softly strokes over my inner thigh. The only hint that he's totally doing that on purpose, is the little twitch of his mouth.

The match loads up, and I look forward again. Choosing my weapons, waiting for the time to count down.

I wait for the teammates to spread out, following one of them down A. Trying to concentrate on the game while I can feel his hand inching further up, closer to my pussy. Teasing. Grazing over it, with his fingertips.

My breath halts in my throat, and I bite my lip not to make a sound. Not giving into it, not giving him the satisfaction.

I see the enemy duck behind the wall, lining up the rifle, waiting for his head to pop up again. A moment before I take the shot, his fingers stroke over my clit, pressing down on the sensitive nub. A choked back moan drops from my lips, and I lose my focus. I miss the shot entirely, cursing, dropping my cover and getting mowed down by another enemy teammate. He chuckles, pressing soft kisses to the side of the face, moving down to my neck.

"Seems like you got hit.", he murmurs, his hot mouth coasting over the soft skin, which sends shivers down my spine. I squirm against his lap, feeling his hard length press against my ass.

The next round starts up and he nudges me. "Come on, Liebes, it's starting again."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I groan, moving with his touches, while trying to play the game.

"You can do it.", he whispers, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. His huge hand, the one that has been sitting on my waist, slips under my shirt, until he reaches my tits. Pulling down the bra a bit and toying with my nipple. Stroking over it with his thumb, making it stiffen up. Rolling the pebbled tip between his fingertips. Pinching it. His other hand circles my clit, still over the cloth of the leggings, and I feel how my wetness seeps into my panties.

I whine and bite down on my lip, my eyes fixed on the screen, trying to find the enemies. But honestly, right now, I'm just glad, I didn't get the package, because my mind is distracted by his teasing touches.

It gets even worse to focus on the game when his fingers slip into my pants, down to my already soaked underwear. He hums softly as he strokes over the puffy wet lips, his digits sliding further down until they push inside me. Just one at first, then quickly the second.

“I have a confession.”, he whispers, the voice dark and needy, as he works himself inside me slowly, stretching me.

“What confession?”, I ask, sounding breathy.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about sinking my fingers into your warm, wet pussy again.”, he drawls, being knuckle-deep inside me now. “Especially after hearing yourself do it yesterday. Knowing that you were fucking yourself with your fingers… Getting off to my voice...”

“You liked that?”, I breathe, needing to hear it, while in reality I can barely stay sane right now.

“Yes.”, the answer more a growl than the actual word.

I can’t hold back the moans any longer and his soft hums against my neck are killing me, while he presses kisses to it, and the motions of his fingers pressing into me are not helping at all.

"König, please, I-", I start, but I break off when he strokes over the sensitive spot deep inside.

"Hm, what do you mean, Liebes?", he says.

"More, more.", I sigh. My hips move of their own volition, searching for more friction.

He chuckles, the deep cocky sound, so close to my ear sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, I don't think I can ever get enough of that. "What do you want me to do, Fräulein?", he asks, puffs of air hitting the shell of my ear. "More of what?"

I groan, a little bit, between trying to play the game and his teasing, my body and mind and torn in two. His fingers stop moving inside me, and I whimper. On the one hand I can focus better now, on the other hand I just want him. Need him. To do me.

"Come on, you can tell me.", he drawls, his voice low and soft.

"I-" The words won't come out of my mouth. I can imagine it, I have the pictures right in front of my eyes. But the words... Saying it out loud is another thing.

It even had been easier yesterday on the phone. Or when we texted. A simple “yes, please”, a small comment here and there. Teasing him a little. But fully voicing my thoughts… I don’t know why I am having a hard time with it.

“You can tell me what you want me to do, just say the words and I'll do it.”, he promises, pressing his cheek against mine.

Another round starts up and I'm already getting flamed in chat. But all my brain can think about is all the stuff I want him to do. His other hand is softly caressing my hips and thigh, while his fingers are still inside me. Not moving on their own.

"I don't know.", I finally whisper, running down one of the corridors and getting eliminated. Again. I sigh, slumping into him. His warm scent engulfs me, his huge pecs are my soft pillow.

"I know that you like it when I take control. But I also wanna hear from you. I want to know what you want.", he explains, his voice gentle. "What you like, what you don't like, what you fantasize about." He makes it all seem so... easy. Normal. No big deal. “Yesterday on the phone… I liked how you told me what you wanted.”, he adds.

It was easier, lying in my own bed, engulfed by darkness. His deep sultry voice and my own thoughts the only company. Now in the light of day, sitting here, right in his lap – while still playing a video game or at least trying… It is a completely different scenario. But I know what I want, I just need to tell him.

I swallow, once, and then I just blurt it out: "I want you to bend me over the desk and just eat me out from behind." Breathless and meek, but I said it out loud. See, it wasn’t that hard, right?

It is all I can think about right now. The memories of how he ate me out like that when I was bent over the bar are plaguing me and I just need him to do it again.

The sound coming from his throat, low and gravelly, is sending a pang of need straight between my thighs and my pussy clenches around his fingers. "Good girl.", he whispers. Oh, his voice does something to me.

He doesn’t wait and just gets up, pulling me up with him, until we both stand. Bending me over the desk, just like I said I wanted him to, so my forearms rest on the surface, my hands still on my keyboard and mouse. I can feel his erection pressing against me, as he positions me, his fingers slipping out of my pussy and his hands grabbing the waistband of my pants.

"Like this, hm?", he asks, and pulling them down. The panties must go as well, of course.

"Yes, just like that.", I whisper. Still a little... shy? No, that's not the right word. “Maybe kneeling behind me?”, I suggest, my voice barely audible.

He drops to his knees in an instant, his hands on my asscheeks. His fingertips are digging into them, pulling them apart, and I can feel my own wetness against the skin that still coats his fingers.

“For you, always.”, he drawls, huffs of air hitting the wet skin of my exposed pussy with every word. He just presses his face against me, licking me like a starved man. His tongue dips into me, he’s fucking me with it. Lapping up my juices.

And all I can do is take it while my eyes turn up and I can’t even really see the screen anymore. It seems like I failed miserably at actually playing the game.

He pulls back a bit, his lips brushing over me. “You have another round to play.”, he grumbles. The game is long lost for me and my teammates, and I can’t focus on it anyways, so I just let go of my mouse and keyboard.

“I can’t. I- Fuck.” My words turn into moans, when he licks up, dragging his tongue over my pussy. “I give up.”

He chuckles, the soft sound sending a shiver through me, before he repeats the move from, the tip of his tongue drawing a trail up, until he almost reaches my other hole. My eyes widen and my spine stiffens up. Would he…?

“You like that? When I play with your ass?”, he asks, his voice so close and deep, puffs of air coasting over the sensitive skin when he is speaking.

My breath hitches in my throat, the blunt dirty words making me choke up, but I answer: “I- I like it, yeah.”

“Good, cause I like it too.”, he says.

He pulls back a bit and spits, the filthy noise making my cheeks heat up. I can feel his saliva hit my puckered hole, the wetness dripping down a bit, before he catches it with his hand.

His fingers are softly massaging, the light touches sending zaps of pleasure through me, until he dips into me, the stretch of just one digit making me almost lose my mind.

He dives in again, his finger matching the rhythm of his tongue dipping into my pussy. And then his mouth drops down further until his lips close around my clit, sucking, gentle at first before it gets more intense. The sensations catapult me over the edge, and I come hard against his face. He doesn’t stop eating me out as I rub myself on him, feeling the tip of his nose nudge against my wet folds. Same with the roughness of his 5 o’clock shadow. Fuck, I’m really losing my mind over here.

"Please, fuck me, I need you to fuck me hard.", I sigh, throwing all my reservations out the window.

"Did anybody ever tell you that you beg so prettily?", he growls, I can feel the vibration against the sensitive skin of my pussy. Fuck, I just want him to do that again.

He gets up from the floor and a condom out of his wallet, and I hear him unbuckling his belt, the clang of metal telling me so. By now it has become quite the recurring theme, me trying to break his concentration while he puts on the condom. Shimmying my hips. Rolling my ass back into his lap. Teasing him to make him pound me even harder.

I’m putting my all into it today – a little pay back for how he distracted me while playing. I slowly move back and forth, until the swell of my butt hits his thighs, as he rips the foil packet open and rolls the rubber down on his dick.

He tuts. “Needy.” The word is a reprimanding growl while he spanks my ass. Once. Another little tradition that makes me giggle, relishing the faint sting of the slap. His fingers grip the supple flesh, his hips rutting forward, and I sigh. He lines himself up, slipping inside, just the tip. My breath halts in anticipation, I wait for him to push into me, stretch me around his dick. But he doesn’t.

I look back at him, turning my head, craning my neck. The big man is towering over me, behind me, just standing there. His hand still on my ass. And his gaze on my face.

The tip of his mouth tips up, the smirk getting wider. "Fuck yourself back. Come on.", he says, and he chuckles when he sees the expression on my face. “What? You moved your hips so prettily, just a few moments ago. You can do it.”

I groan, but the imagination alone and his little coaxing order make me even hotter. I push myself onto his dick, until my ass hits his lap. Deep, so deep. Pulling back again and feeling every inch of him slip out of me.

“But I asked for you to fuck me.”, I whine.

“Yeah, and then you had to be bratty.”, he answers. “Trying to tease me.” His voice deepens. “And brats don’t get what they want.”

Well, it seems like I did that to myself. I sigh deeply and start to move again. I can feel the wetness seep out of me when my ass hits his lap over and over again, making a total mess of him.

He doesn’t do anything, he’s just standing there, watching me fuck myself on his dick. I can feel his heated gaze on me as I bounce on him, my motions getting smoother, finding a rhythm that is driving us both crazy. Stretching my pussy around his girth, colliding with him, an immovable wall of muscle. A very turned-on immovable wall of muscle, judging by the soft groans that drop from his lips.

His hand grabs my buttcheek, squeezing a bit, before he spanks me again. That little move spurs me on, pushing myself back harder. But it doesn’t have the same impact as when he does it.

I just want more.

“König?”

“Yes, Liebes?”

His hand comes down on my ass once more, the palm colliding with the supple pillow, and the sound it makes fills the room. My hips stutter and he almost slips out of me when a shiver shakes my body.

“Please, fuck, I need you to do me.”, I beg, sliding onto his dick again, stopping as he’s seated deep inside me. I look back at him, catching my breath a bit.

“Will you be good then? Next time?”, he asks, pushing some of his hair back that’s falling over his face.

“I will, yes.”, I breathe.

“Good.”, he growls, his hands grabbing me, while he starts to pound into me. He pulls my hips back into him, packing a punch to his thrusts. The slaps of skin against skin are loud and almost obscene, intermingling with the moans that get pulled from my lips when he bottoms me out.

My whole body gets shaken, the surface that I’m still holding onto moving with every push. My headphones get shaken off my head, tumbling onto the desk. The clank of plastic hitting plastic resounds when they fall onto the keyboard. But I don’t care about that right now.

The tip of his dick hitting me deep inside floods me with arousal, my mind filled with hazy pleasure. It doesn't take long, a few hard deep strokes, and my thighs start to shake. I actually have a hard time keeping myself up. My legs buckle, but his arms steady me, as I cum around his dick.

“Fuck, Liebes.”, he groans. “Squeezing me so tight.” The last word drops out when he comes as well, pushing into me one last time, his groin colliding with my ass. I slump down and sigh, my cheek resting on my arm, as I relish the last waves of my subsiding orgasm.

He pulls back, pulls out of me, and I still just stand there, bent over my desk. Naked from the waist down, while he only got his dick out. I breathe in and out, trying to pull myself together, slowly straightening up.

He’s already gotten rid of the condom, zipping himself up again, when I turn around to put my arms around him. He leans down and gives me a kiss, a long overdue one, his hand stroking down my back, while I snuggle into him.

The waistband and lap of his jeans are a tiny bit sticky with my wetness, I can feel it as I’m pressed up against him like that. He doesn’t care in the least bit, sitting down in my chair again and pulling me into his lap. Softly playing with my hair, basking in the little comfortable silence.

“You okay?”, he asks then, pushing some strands back, brushing them out of my face, while his eyes search for mine.

“Yes. I probably got reported by my mates, but that was totally worth it.”, I answer, grinning at him.

He laughs and presses another kiss to my lips. “Yeah, sorry about that.”, he says, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be.”, I tell him, and I can tell by the look on his face that he is in fact not.

"So, what are those animals and why do they keep crossing?", he asks me out of the blue. I burst into laughter, almost falling off his lap. Still laughing a bit, I get the controller and start up my Switch to show him the villagers on my five-star island, while I snuggle against his chest and he wraps his arms around me.

next part: breaking the bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: @kathy-ifnt planted the idea for such a scene in my mind and i just had to do it... i played some CS but not a lot, generally i'm more of an RPG/WoW girlie, but i didn't wanna make you sit through me explaining how to heal a dungeon run, lol also tried to evolve their dynamic a little more explicitely... stay tuned <3 and thanks for reading as always <3

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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vampirzina · 3 months

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˚୨୧⋆｡ ┆ father!tomas vrbada (w. spouse!reader) hcs

tw: gn pronouns, suggestive themes, mdni, domesticity, kuai liang and bi han mentions

notes: for the sake of the story reader has a cooter

masterlist

It’s not all that surprising that you had twins. It’s exhausting running after them both as they grow older, but Tomas cakewalks it and still makes time to love on you as much as he did before they were born. As infants, Tomas hardly ever puts them down except for tummy time and the chores that require more effort than just one hand. As soon as he finishes [the task], he picks the opposite twin up (so that “they don’t feel jealous of the other”). He even picks you up when he has that insatiable urge to just hold someone brought on from parenthood.

Tomas engages in anything his kids want him to, even if it’s overtly ridiculous. Tea parties, house, having to watch over a doll like it’s their baby, dinosaur re-enactments, helping shovel dirt to bury something just to dig it back up again, faux makeovers—just anything you can name. His pride is not easily hurt by something as simple as something he feels is the bare minimum, and if you catch him, he gets you involved, too. When Tomas is busy [working] and he has to deny a child, he is 100% going to make it up to them with lots of snacks and playtime. You won’t have Tomas to yourself until late night; he’s the type of father to want to spend the entire day with his children, but can’t.

Tomas loves to tell stories his mother told him about him and his own twin sister. It’s usually in the spur of the moment, like when you’re both watching them play or after they’ve both fell/went to sleep and you’re talking about plans for them. You’re not the only ear he tells it to, and he says it to his own kids as well when he’s got the time for play with them—Tomas answers any and all questions that they might have, but kids are not all that emotionally mature enough to understand that sometimes you can’t just ask certain questions or say certain things. It makes Tomas sad on the inside, but he toughs it out and waits until you’re both alone to find your comfort.

If your kids show interest in the Shirai Ryu, Tomas is glad to teach them! Even if they’re not, he does want to teach them how to fight anyway. If you’re willing, you’ll have to serve as their model as your husband practices on you to show them how it’s done. If not, Hanzo or Kuai Liang is a good alternative. He’ll be as gentle as possible so that they don’t go hurting each other to bruises, of course, but he always has to reiterate that on real opponents they’ll have to hit harder. To make it fair, Tomas wants them to practice on each other, and he the referee. If one of them get hurt too badly you may be upset more than Tomas, so he’s almost too careful.

As for their uncle, Tomas tries to bring them (and you) around Kuai Liang as much as possible. He’s not really a selfish person in most cases, as he values family a lot. After Bi Han, it’s important to him that the rest of the family he has left gets along well—so what better way to do this by having the whole family in one place at the same time? Tomas’ number one favorite thing to do with Kuai Liang, spouse and children is to have one big dinner at any time of the year. He triple checks the children are properly accounted for first even after you’ve done so yourself before anything else, and then comes back to your waiting arms.

You and Tomas would probably only have twins. Although Tomas is busy at the Shirai Ryu, he wouldn’t be opposed to just one more child if you asked. But if that’s not what you want or see in the future with him, he honors that as if his life completely depends on it. He already worships the ground you walk on and kisses more than just your feet even before you gave him twins, and he couldn’t have asked for a greater gift. However if you agree [to having another baby], Tomas would be ecstatic to try again for as long as it takes. Quickie or not, anything counts, to him.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada hcs #vampirzina #mk1 x reader

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palioom · 4 months

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snow angels

summary: who knew that clearing the driveway of fresh snow could be fun?

pairing: dave york x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; public/semi-public sex; fingering; leg humping; established relationship

a/n: follow @palioomfics for updates // banners by @saradika

• masterlist •

Winter wonderland.

It was the only way to describe what it looked like outside, their yard and driveway and everything beyond covered in several inches of snow. Looking too perfect almost, fluffy and a brilliant white.

Their kids were still asleep when she went outside with Dave to try and at least clear the driveway a little. He had insisted on doing it alone, ever the gentleman and insisting she stay inside with a hot cocoa, that she could watch him as he worked. But she liked doing this with him, shovelling snow onto the sides so there was a way to their front door.

He would be inside much quicker too, so they could cozy up on the sofa in the living room before the girls would inevitably drag them outside to play.

It was fun, too, in a way. At least once she was halfway done with her side, ignoring her cold, aching fingers inside of her thick gloves. She decided to pick up some snow, forming it into a ball before throwing it at him. The snowball hit Dave square in the back, leaving a white patch and she giggled. Dave turned around to her, his eyebrow raised but the smallest tug of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“It wasn’t me.” She laughed, breath coming out in white clouds, wafting up into the crisp December air.

Putting on her most innocent pout and look, Dave was almost willing to believe her, but he could see right through, noticing the sparkle in her eyes.

He laughed when he turned back around, continuing to shovel snow out of the way. “Oh, of course, honey. It just fell from the sky.”

“That’s what snow usually does, yeah.”

Shaking his head with a small chuckle, they continued, until another snowball hit him, this time right between the shoulder blades. It didn’t hurt, but some of the snow splattered and fell right into the small space between his thick jacket and the fluffy scarf around his neck.

When he turned, he found her still shovelling snow, humming along to some song, clearly trying to look busy. He could see the cheek of her apple from how hard she was smiling, knowing she was holding back her laugh.

And she looked more than adorable as she whistled, not noticing that Dave was putting down his own shovel in favour of picking up some of the fresh, powdery snow. Slowly and quietly he made his way over to her, hoping the snow wouldn’t crunch under his feet as he walked, the smile widening on his face the closer he got to her.

Just as she was about to turn around to him, Dave covered her face with the icy snow, rubbing his hand over her face to really rub it all in while a high-pitched sound escaped her, a cross between a laugh and a scream. His free arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her back into his strong chest, laughing with her as she struggled to get away from him.

“Babe, stop!” She gasped, still laughing as she fought against his tight grip. All of her tiredness was definitely gone now, the snow waking her up as it stung in her face. Some of it dropped into the front of her jacket, melting on her heated skin and leaving an icy trail behind. “Dave!”

“So you can throw more snowballs at me, sweetpea?” Dave laughed, sliding around a little on the icy ground below them, finally wrapping both arms around her middle to keep her crushed against him.

He liked this, liked the small moments before he had to leave again and travel around for his jobs.

Turning her around in his arms while still maintaining his grip on her, he pressed his lips against hers. They were icy and wet from the snow and she gasped into his mouth, forgetting her fight for just a moment. Chasing the warmth of his lips as he pulled back, then trying to free herself.

“Let me go!” She giggled, her feet slippery on the ground. “You’re paying for th-”

Before she could finish her sentence, her feet slipped from underneath her body, falling right into the pile of snow behind her and taking Dave down as well with how tightly she gripped his jacket. He was heavy on top of her, and for a moment they both went quiet, Dave’s eyes wide as he looked down into her face.

Then, they both broke into loud laughter, first her and then him as well.

“You alright, honey?” He asked, his gloved hand coming up to brush some hair and snow from her face. Still looking for any sign she had hurt herself while falling and ignoring the own pain that bloomed in his knees.

“Mhmm.” She hummed while nodding, a big smirk breaking on her face.

Before Dave knew it, his face was covered in snow as well, all while she laughed heartily, trapped below his broad body.

“Mrs. York is a feisty one today.” He commented, pinning her wrists into the snow, lips slotting over hers again.

The cold was biting at them, especially now laying in the snow, but the kiss was warming them right back up again, growing more passionate as they continued. Blood boiling hot, Dave’s knee, which rested between her legs, brushed up against her heated core, making her moan softly.

It was like a switch had been flipped, their task forgotten as Dave felt his dick twitch in his pants, his kisses more demanding, his knee pressing against her again. He loved those moans, and right now he really wanted to hear more of them, letting go of one of her wrists to pull his glove off with his teeth.

Her eyes followed his hand as he let it vanish between them, his thick fingers swiftly finding a way into the front of her pants. They were icy as one slipped between her already wet folds, nudging against her clit and making her moan louder.

“Babe, the kids, the neighbours-” She whispered urgently, hoping no one could see what they were doing with how they were laying. The small pile of snow obstructed some of the view, and their car might spare them the glances of their neighbours from across the street. “What if they- oh, fuck.”

Dave only smirked, the thrill of possibly being seen by their neighbours making this so much more exciting as he pressed his finger down harder on the small bundle of nerves.

“No one’s gonna see.” He hushed, then pressed his lips against hers, tongue slipping into her mouth when another small noise left her.

The icy temperature of his finger in contrast to his warm mouth helped to build her up swiftly, Dave’s own hips rutting against her thigh – the hard bulge able to be felt even through her thick pants.

“Dave-” His name came out in a weak whine, his fingers finding her dripping entrance and teasingly pressing against it. The cold was nearly gone at this point, the heat of her pussy warming his hand right back up.

A damn shame, because she already missed the sensation of them, wondering what it would feel like when he pressed inside of her aching, wet hole.

Maybe this was something they could explore. In a different setting, of course.

“I know, sweetpea.” He replied, his fingers pressing into her, groaning at how tightly she gripped him. Unable to stop his own hips from rutting against her leg, a moan escaped him, muffled against the corner of her mouth.

He’d much prefer to be inside her wet pussy that was currently dripping all over his thick fingers as he thrust into her, but if humping against her leg was all he could get right now, he would.

The heel of his palm perfectly pushed against her clit as he pumped his fingers faster, scissoring and curling them inside of her. Her gloved fingers curled into his thick jacket, her moans muffled still.

From inside the house she was sure she could hear their girls, excitedly screaming about the snow, then the loud thudding of little feet on the stairs.

“Dave-” She whined again, her eyes wide as she looked at him, suddenly torn between needing him to get her off and needing him to stop entirely before the girls saw them. “Oh, fuck-”

The coldness didn’t even bother her anymore, too damn hot in these thick clothes that she just wanted to rip them off, every press of his fingers against that sweet spot making it worse. All while his hard cock brushed over her thigh again and again, Dave’s movements speeding up.

His eyes were on the door of their house, his laboured breaths forming white clouds in the chilly air. So damn close to spilling himself in his snow pants, grinding down harder against her while his fingers worked faster.

“C’mon, honey.” He whispered, his dark eyes darting down to hers again, taking in the thin layer of sweat and her knitted eyebrows. “I can feel her gripping me, cum on my fingers, honey.”

Grinding the heel of his palm into her clit harder, she clamped down around his thick fingers, the moans that left her mouth so loud that he had to shut her up with his own. His hips stuttered against her leg, his cum wetting Dave’s underwear as he came with a low grunt.

Somehow knowing that her husband couldn’t wait and humped her leg only made this hotter, breathing heavily when he parted from her and whining at the loss of his fingers.

Dave pulled back just in time, their daughters opening the door and running out with loud giggles. Barely dressed appropriately for the weather and stopping when they saw their parents still laying in the snow.

“Mom, dad! We were looking for you!” Their younger daughter yelled, hopping down the stairs and landing in the fluffy snow. “What are you doing?”

Dave chuckled, moving to help his wife up with a smile.

“We were just having some fun of our own, sweetie.” He said, patting off his own clothes, then giving his wife a look which made her laugh. “Making snow angels.”

Walking over to the kids, he picked up their younger daughter, ready to carry her back inside again. They both were missing their scarves and knowing them, they only threw on their jackets over their pyjamas.

“Now let’s get you two monsters dressed so you can play, too.”

She just looked after them for a moment, watching Dave ruffle the hair of the older girl who was reluctantly going back inside with him.

Looking down, she felt hot again as she saw the imprint they had both made in the snow, the driveway still halfway covered with it.

Snow angels.

That must have been the most enjoyable way to make them, and she couldn’t wait to make more of these specific ones some other time.

#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #dave york x reader #dave york x you #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #my writing

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johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend · 5 months

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shower situation (smut) part 2

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3

word count: 0.8k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - fluff, eventual smut

you guys had made it to Gally's hut, which was decently spaced with little decorations. there was a bed, nightstand and a lamp, but the area itself was as spacious as it could be for a hut.

"Alright greenie, here's your pillow." he throws it to you, "You take the bed, I'll sleep on the floor." the floor was wooden, so at least it wasn't just grass. however, you still felt bad for him. "Are you sure? I can sleep on the floor, I don't mind at all." he scoffed a little, "No, its fine." you sat on the bed and watched as he lied down on the floor. he looked at you, making you pat the bed, telling him it was okay to sleep there. Gally has a skeptical look on his face, but he knew that sleeping on the ground would make everything hurt like hell, so he decided to go with you. he made himself comfortable with the blankets and with his side of the full sized bed, leaving little room for the both of you. you turned away, "Goodnight, Gally." he couldn't see the tint on your cheeks nor the smile on your face. "Night, Y/N." there were so many butterflies in your stomach at this point, making you like him even more...as a friend, right? (wrong)

the two of you couldn't stay away from eachother the whole night though. when you woke up, you were faced away from him, his arms were wrapped around you with his head tucked in the crook of your neck. you didn't dare move, almost as if a bomb would explode if you did. you were too tired to do anything anyways. it stayed like that for a while until you heard him grunt and wake up. "Are you awake?" he muttered quietly. you didn't know whether to respond or stay quiet. you went with the safer option and closed your eyes, not saying anything. while you pretended to still be asleep, he actually hugged you tighter, whispering a 'phew'. this position made you actually doze off, sleeping a little longer.

the light came through the hut walls, and the bed felt a little colder. you opened your eyes, seeing that Gally had left, presumably to head off with the builders. you heard a knock and someone was standing in the doorway, Newt. "Alright Y/N, rise and shine, you have to help the glade out someway." he had explained this the night before, how you had to choose a job to do. hoping that it was easy, you picked to be a track-hoe with Newt. "Okay, okay." you sighed, getting out of the bed.

after getting ready, you headed over to the gardens and were instructed to dig out the weeds. you didn't think there would be a lot, but apparently no one likes to dig out weeds. so there you were, you had spent almost the entire day shoveling those suckers out. someone taps you on the shoulder, Zart. "Hey I think you've done enough today." he says sincerely. you get up from your squat, "Thanks Zart." you say, lucky that someone had your back. just as he said that, the dinner bell rang. you groan as you walk away from the plants.

you were dirty, being covered in mud wasn't that pleasant and your whole body was aching. not to mention, you had also missed breakfast from sleeping in, with Gally. you start to smile at the thought as someone runs up to you. "Oh, hey Gally, what's up?" he joins you on your walk to the kitchen area. "You look like you've seen better days, greenbean." he laughs at the sight of you covered with dirt. "Wow, thanks. You know I could say the same for you." you say, spotting some flecks of wood on his shirt. he shuts up, raising his eyebrows. he walks you to the line for food. "Do you think I could eat with you?" you look up into Gally's eyes. "Uh, sure Y/N." he stutters a little. you join his group that consists of some other builders. you sat right next to him, laughing occasionally at his jokes, and putting your hand on his leg. it went unnoticed by everyone except for him. after eating, you wait for him to finish, it was already getting dark again. all you wanted to do was have a shower to remove all of the grime form yourself. you whisper to Gally, your hand still on his leg, "Can you take me to the showers, please?" he grabs your hand on his thigh, "Alright boys, I'll see you later." he stands up from the table, helping you get out of the bench.

as you walk to the bathroom area, your hands still stay interlocked with one another.

remember this is all on my wattpad <3 (link in bio)

#willpoulter #gally smut #maze runner gally smut #maze runner gally #gally maze runner #gally x reader #will poulter smut #tmr gally #gally x y/n #gally x reader smut #the maze runner #will poulter x reader smut #will poulter x reader #gally x y/n smut

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended.

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be.

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person.

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look.

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left.

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth.

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say.

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more.

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point. “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil.

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now.

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion.

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering.

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway.

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner.

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here.

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member.

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway.

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath.

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything.

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now.

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it.

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body.

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say.

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze.

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room.

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now.

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way.

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking.

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen.

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw.

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin.

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to.

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too. Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone.

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way.

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it.

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole.

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem.

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them.

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening.

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out.

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame.

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you.

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time.

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place.

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own.

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing.

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak.

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you.

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again.

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you.

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer.

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side.

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds.

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth.

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh.

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him.

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right.

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want.

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat.

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises.

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver.

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too.

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down.

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back.

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you.

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants.

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust.

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst.

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace.

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy.

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust.

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through.

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls.

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it.

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt.

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace.

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt.

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you.

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure.

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly.

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling.

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking.

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle.

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation.

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack.

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that.

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side.

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek.

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear.

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck.

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter.

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.” If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point?

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout.

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs.

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm.

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself.

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body.

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back.

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him.

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open.

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut.

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone.

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello.

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit.

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising.

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle.

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

#joel miller #fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #bless this mess #the last of us #tlou #we likey?#exhibition kink #enemies to lovers #dark!joel miller

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maniacalmole · 9 months

Text

When Aziraphale finally came back, Crowley didn’t really much care what he was saying, or mumbling, or choking out, but instead was watching him like a hawk for signs of what he really meant, like he always had, and it was so familiar an action that he almost didn’t even care what he found, he was just so blessed glad to be able to do it again, only what he did find was that Aziraphale was sagging under a despair and a relief so profound that eventually Crowley was satisfied enough to say, “I’m tired. Need a good night’s rest. Let’s pick this back up in the morning.”

And Aziraphale had looked both petrified and grateful, so Crowley had leaned back on the bookshop sofa and gone to sleep. Which wasn’t really a surprise, given that he hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately, but what had surprised him was that in the morning he’d seen Aziraphale had fallen asleep, too, something he’d hardly seen in their millennia of knowing each other. So he supposed they’d both needed it.

Which was why, when they both woke up around noon, Crowley did something the bookshop had never seen in its decades of existence, because normally they had so many places they wanted to go together, but now all they really wanted to do was stay there, and so he ordered takeaway.

And so there they were, Crowley sat on the sofa and Aziraphale in an armchair, Chinese takeaway boxes scattered on a hastily cleared-of-books end table, with Crowley shoveling noodles into his mouth because he hadn’t realized he’d been so hungry. And Aziraphale was holding one dumpling between a pair of chopsticks, looking like a statue.

“So—” Crowley said, with difficulty around the noodles—how had the angel always managed to talk and eat at the same time, all while looking so prim?—and he’d never gotten the hang of chopsticks. Which, all right, he’d lived in China for a few centuries over the ages, but he’d eaten far less often than humans did, so it still wasn’t all that shameful. “So, what’s next, then?”

“Rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale glanced at him when he said it, did that little twitch of an eyebrow he couldn’t help doing sometimes, even when he was squashing everything down inside him, like now, then looked away.

Crowley shoveled more noodles into his mouth. Aziraphale took the history of the world’s smallest bite of his dumpling. Crowley frowned.

“And—er—”

“I wish I could’ve come back to you with it all being finished,” Aziraphale said sadly. “‘Done, I solved it’. Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t all that useful.”

“From what you told me last night, you did loads.” Crowley stared at the dumpling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale grimaced at his chopsticks. “Er. Haven’t really eaten much. I don’t want—uh—don’t want to upset my stomach. You know how it is.”

Crowley just frowned. He took another gargantuan bite. Too big, really. It was all he could do to chew.

“The last thing I wanted to do was to come back to you with more problems,” Aziraphale said wretchedly. “But they just kept getting larger and larger, and eventually it was now or never—and I’m just—I’m just so useless—”

Crowley chewed faster. He really shouldn’t have eaten so much at once. He could do the snake thing, he supposed, but he really didn’t think a big old reminder of how inhuman he was would be quite appropriate, right now. Still, he had things to say, or rather, to interrupt, so he swallowed painfully, made a horrible noise, and finally hissed, “Never mind that, just, let’s just, get through this day, all right? Just one day.”

Aziraphale’s eyes went distant. Crowley wondered if they even measured days, in Heaven. They certainly tried not to think about it in Hell. Aziraphale was still holding that blessed dumpling, hardly touched, with perfect chopstick finesse, and he wished it would fall, just so the angel would have to catch it with his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Aziraphale snapped halfway out of his daze.

“What are you—why are you eating like that? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I told you—” the angel said, sounding just peevish enough to spur him on.

Crowley reached over and took the chopsticks from him. Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley gestured with the dumpling. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

“I’m not—”

“It’s eating. It’s food, look, here it comes—”

“Crowley, are you airplaning that dumpling at me?”

Crowley paused mid-airplaning the dumpling towards him. He said, “N-n—”

Aziraphale gave him an icy stare.

“‘Member before it was airplanes?” Crowley said. He smiled. He felt something bubbling up inside him, and Aziraphale, remembering himself and trying to look penitent again, was not going to stop it. “It was trains, for a while, right? ‘Here comes the train, carrying your food.’ Don’t think they ever did that with a horse and buggy, though. S’pose you’d imply the kid was eating the horse, which wasn’t really the thing.”

“Crowley.”

“Before they had food-carrying vehicles, how did they get kids to eat, then? Do you remember?”

“Not really.” Aziraphale looked a bit wretched again. Crowley handed him back his chopsticks, and the angel took them. Took a bite. So small, it could hardly even be called a nibble.

Crowley sighed and leaned back into his own seat. “Anyway, I guess none of it really makes sense. You’d have to eat the whole airplane, too.”

They sat in silence for a while. Crowley took another bite of lo mein. Because of the chopsticks, and his fear, after everything, of what would happen if he dropped food on the bookshop floor, he’d held the whole carton up to his mouth and dumped it in, and now he really was choking, and after a few moments of terrified silence, he gave up and did the snake thing. Dislocating a human-shaped jaw really was less dramatic than when the entirety of you was just a long tube, but he knew it still looked odd. It wasn’t the reason he hardly ever ate in restaurants, but it was a small part of it. When he was done, he clenched his teeth back together and winced in the angel’s direction.

Aziraphale was looking at him with a wistful expression that was part amused and part something else. He said, “I missed you.”

Well. If everything before hadn’t been enough, that certainly was. Crowley said, “Do you at least want to try drinking something? Some cocoa?” and his own voice startled him with its softness.

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then doubtful. “I—don’t know.”

“C’mon. I’ll make you some. You’ve got to wake up the stomach with something, right?”

“I suppose—”

“I’ll make you some.” He rose from the sofa with the grace of a marionette being picked up by the strings, which was ironic, since he had never felt less like a puppet. “Be in the kitchenette. Right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

And he left, because he knew he wouldn’t.

When he came back, steaming warm mug in his hands, Aziraphale had put the dumpling away, but the doubt in his eyes had changed to something near hope. He took the cocoa and stared into it while Crowley sat back down. Not all the way, not leaning back into the sofa, but elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward towards the angel. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley tilted his head at the mug and raised his eyebrows, just a little. Aziraphale smiled, closed his eyes and, after taking a deep breath, took a sip. Then he winced.

“Too hot?” Crowley said, brows pulling together.

“I should have waited—”

“Here.” Crowley reached for the mug and touched it with his index finger. Then, needing something to calibrate the temperature to, he put his other hand on top of Aziraphale’s. He performed a minor miracle.

He let go, leaned back, and Aziraphale looked at him. He took another sip. The angel closed his eyes and, slowly, drank the whole thing.

When he put the mug down, it was empty.

“Mm?” Crowley said lightly.

“Thank—” Aziraphale started to say, but he shifted, his face a pained grimace. He put a hand to his stomach, waving Crowley off with his other hand when the demon had made a noise of worry. The angel sighed and his face relaxed.

“Did it upset your stomach?” Crowley asked. Again, that soft voice. Croaky with misuse.

“A little.” Aziraphale looked up at him. He gave a watery smile. “It was wonderful.”

Crowley felt his own face doing something. It was something like a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Aziraphale looked at the remains of the Chinese takeaway. There were still several unopened boxes. With the memory of the angel passed out in his chair, eyes closed, chest moving slowly, Crowley had gone a bit overboard with the ordering. He hadn’t even known the bookshop’s address. Just told the delivery person the street name, and said, ‘Bookshop with a big black car in front of it. You can’t miss it.’ And he hadn’t. It was an iconic duo.

“We could—” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We could save those for later, yes?”

Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah. Angel?”

“Hm?”

“Welcome back.”

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens fanfic #I was imagining a reunion scene and it was all very melodramatic. and they fell asleep. and then we got to the next morning #and they ordered takeaway and then Crowley did the airplane thing and...I laughed. In spite of it all. So here you go #ficlet #my writing

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seanfalco · 1 year

Text

Keep Y’Warm

Nathan Young x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k Tags/Warnings: flirting, suggestive themes, pretty tame really Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts). For January’s prompt I chose ‘Snow’. a/n: Struggled with breaking out of some writer’s block, so I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but I’m glad I finished something.

“I can’t believe they’re makin’ us do our community service outside in this weather,” Nathan whined, half heartedly scraping his snow shovel through the wet slush that covered the sidewalk in front of the Community Centre. “Look, my trainers are already soaked through!” he cried, lifting a wet sneakered foot as evidence. “I can barely feel my toes!”

“Maybe you should’ve worn more weather appropriate attire,” Shaun drawled indifferently as he passed, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“Well maybe some of us don’t have weather appropriate attire!” Nathan countered, sneering at the back of the probation worker’s head.

Shaun paused as he opened the door. “That’s not my problem,” he shrugged, sparing a dry look for Nathan before pushing the door open with his shoulder and heading back into the warmth inside.

An incredulous scoff left Nathan’s mouth as he gaped after the man. “Fuckin’ prick!” he muttered, crouching down to grab a handful of wet snow and flinging it against the window in harmless retaliation.

“At least y’have a coat,” you muttered, huddling further in on yourself against the cold to keep your teeth from chattering. The thin long sleeved shirt you had on under your jumpsuit did little to protect from the icy wind that cut through you and threw heavy wet snowflakes in your face.

Nathan looked over at you, a frown pinching his brows. “Don’t’cha have one?”

“I do, but I left it at my stepmum’s. I didn’t think I’d need it yet,” you grumbled, blowing on your frozen hands in an attempt to thaw them somewhat.

Nathan’s frown deepened in thought for a moment. “C’mere,” he exclaimed, unzipping his coat.

At first you thought he was gunna offer it to you and you were about to protest, not wanting him to freeze either, until it became apparent he had something else in mind, holding his coat open for you and beckoning you over.

“Get in here.”

“I don’t think we’re both gunna fit,” you snorted, looking at him doubtfully.

“Will yeh shut it and just get over here? I’m losin’ th’rest of my body heat!”

Heaving a fond sigh, you did as he asked and moved closer, letting him wrap his arms and the sides of his coat around you. Almost instantly you felt warmth seep into you and you pressed your face against his chest, trying to get as close as possible. “Better?” Nathan asked, pulling back to get a look at you, a goofy grin on his face. “Yeah actually,” you replied, distracted by the snowflakes caught in his long lashes and the faint smell of his body spray. “Ugh, get a room,” Kelly muttered, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, let’s just get this done!” Alisha whined, interrupting the moment.

“Yeah, th’faster we get this done, th’sooner we get t’go back inside,” Curtis added, attacking the pile of snow in front of him with renewed vigour.

Instead of freeing you, Nathan simply picked up his snow shovel and shrugged. “This might be a bit awkward, but at least we’ll be warm,” he chuckled, his breath fanning warmly against your cheek. “I’m not lettin’ y’freeze on my watch,” he exclaimed, and you shuffled backwards as he attempted to continue clearing the sidewalk, smiling to yourself.

With every movement, however, you were reminded of just how close you were, hyper aware of his body pressed up against yours.

“Nathan!” Kelly groaned, her expression contorting in disgust as she passed, clearly overhearing his thoughts. “You’re disgustin’!”

“What? I can’t help it!” he laughed, carefully avoiding your curious look.

By the time the walk was clear–no thanks to you and Nathan, who mostly goofed off–and Simon had spread a layer of salt down, your cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold, and even Nathan’s coat wasn’t doing much to protect you any longer.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside,” you exclaimed impatiently, wriggling your toes uselessly in your sneakers.

“Don’t hafta tell me twice,” Nathan huffed, finally freeing you from his jacket and you all hurried inside to warm up.

Hastily toeing off your wet trainers as soon as you hit the locker room, you shucked your jumpsuit and hung it in your locker to let the sopping legs drip dry while Nathan plopped down on the locker room floor to pull his shoes off.

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with my toes!” he cried, stripping his soaked socks off. “Look they’re turnin’ white and I can’t feel ‘em!”

“Sounds like th’beginning stage of frostbite,” Simon observed, leaning over from his locker to get a better look.

“Frost bite!?” Nathan yelped, his head whipping up frantically. “Are my toes gunna fall off?” he cried, gesturing wildly toward his bare feet.

“They might,” Simon murmured, wearing a tiny mischievous grin.

“Not if we get them thawed out,” you interjected quickly, throwing Simon a dirty look as you passed him, grabbing Nathan by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “C’mon,” you urged, dragging him to one of the shower stalls across the room and yanking the curtain shut behind you.

“Get th’hot water on!” Nathan whined, twisting the faucet handle all the way to hot.

“No, wait!” you yelped, smacking his hand way to dial it back. “We only want luke warm.”

“But I’m freezin’!” Nathan countered, pouting at you as the water spluttered on.

“If you go to hot too fast, you’ll scald yourself and not even feel it,” you explained.

Nathan frowned, taking your words in with a grain of skepticism. “Alright, fine!” he finally cried, unzipping his coveralls.

“Here lemme help y’with that,” you murmured, reaching out to grab hold of his arms to stabilize him as he shrugged out of the top half of his jumpsuit.

“Your hands are like ice!” he yelped and you couldn’t help but snort in amusement.

“Yeah, no shit! I’m just as cold as you are!” you countered, reaching out to feel the temperature of the water. “Okay, I think that’s good t’thaw out with and then we can crank up th’heat some more,” you murmured.

Nathan nodded, shedding the orange jumpsuit completely and sticking his feet under the stream of warmish water. “I’m never opposed t’turnin’ up th’heat,” he joked, giving you a cheeky grin.

“You’re such a flirt,” you chuckled, shaking your head ruefully before stripping the rest of your undergarments off while Nathan’s back was turned.

After a few minutes, his feet seemed to return to a normal pinkish colour, but when he turned to tell you he could feel his toes again, his gaze fell to your bare chest and the words died on his tongue.

“Well, hello there! If it isn’t my favourite girls! When did this happen?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes away as he pulled you into his arms.

Grinning, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as the water rolled over you, pressing your chest against his, just as you had earlier when he’d wrapped you in his coat, except now there were considerably fewer layers between you.

“Wanna tell me what you were thinkin’ bout earlier that Kelly overheard?” you asked, glancing up at him, the water plastering his curls to his head.

Nathan’s chapped lips pulled into a smirk at the thought and he shifted against you, his cock slowly stirring in response, pressing against your hip. “It had somethin’ t’do with wishin’ we were wearin’ less…” he replied, his gaze flicking over your face. “Kinda like we are right now.”

“Look’s like y’got your wish,” you murmured, arousal tingling through you to pool low in your gut and between your legs.

“Will y’look at that,” Nathan teased lightly, though his voice had turned husky. “Would y’like t’know what else I was thinkin’ about?” he asked, dangling the implication tantalizingly before you, his chest rising and falling against yours with each breath he took waiting for your answer while the water trickled down your bodies, warm seeping into you.

“I think I’d rather you show me.”

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x reader #misfits fic #robert sheehan character fic #joz.fic #year of the otp 2023

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muffinlance · 1 year

Text

Cuckoo-Vipers Outtake: Crew Bonding

Initially, I started writing a version where Zuko and Azula had time to bond with their crew, under a captain who wasn’t Zhao. But it was too nice and not focused enough for a one shot, so I scrapped it.

Enjoy! Picks up right after they get dragged out of prison and onto the ship.

---

Zuko learned how to swab a deck and shovel coal and work in the kitchen when the cook needed another hand. He was the fastest at cutting things. The cook’s hand in his fuzzy hair made him flinch. She yelled at him less after that, which made him scowl at her more.

* * *

Azula learned which crewmen looked at the children among them with too much interest. After some time, she even figured out which of those were benign. An odd phenomenon: apparently outside the court, some people saw children as… needing protection. She tried to cozy up to these ones more, but they seemed put off by her efforts. She threatened them to watch over her brother, instead. She found their secrets and who would be interested in them and she made clear in no uncertain terms what would occur should harm come to Zuko. This made them like her more. Life outside of court was baffling.

She was thirteen when their old captain retired.

* * *

Their new captain’s name was Zhao. Zuko didn’t like him, and didn’t know why. Also he kept getting assigned to the boiler room, which was stifling and awful and somehow had to be Azula’s fault, because she always got shifts set the way she wanted them. But he barely ran into the man after that. So. That was okay.

He was fifteen, almost sixteen. He was still waiting for the growth spurt that would make this stupid uniform fit, but he’d learned how to hem in the meantime.

* * *

Zhao invited them to his private quarters for dinner. Zuko was fresh from the boiler room, because he hadn’t gotten the message until the last minute. Azula was fresh from making her topknot straight and her clothes immaculate. She smiled at him, like she knew a joke he didn’t. He scowled. They went inside.

For a brief moment, Zhao recoiled from the smell of unwashed teenage boy.

Okay. Zuko got the joke.

* * *

The captain praised their service records.

How undervalued they’d been, under their last captain.

How much… potential they had. Together, with a commander who saw their true value.

Together, they could go far. Very far, indeed.

Azula smiled. Zuko scowled, and smelled. Azula was invited back. Zuko wasn’t.

He suddenly got her other motive, too. She always had more than one. He always forgot.

* * *

“He wants—”

“I know what he wants, Zuzu,” she hissed back, in the relative anonymity of the night watch that they now conveniently shared. “Do you want to stay banished? You’re a prince.”

“Sssh,” he said, so she didn’t say what they both knew: that she was the future Fire Lord. Grandfather was old. Their cousins were young. Uncle Iroh was the only one really in their way, and Uncle Iroh still managed to send letters to them. Azula let Zuko compose both their replies, only putting in the time to switch hers into her own handwriting.

“We just have to wait,” Zuko whispered. “Uncle will welcome us back.”

“Being welcomed back doesn’t prove anything,” Azula said. “We need backers. Like father had.”

Father had stopped being Zuko’s role model years ago. But Azula was better at these things.

“Okay,” he conceded.

* * *

Her hair wasn’t perfect, when she came out of Zhao’s room.

“Shut up,” she snapped, before he could say anything. “We need to do this. We’ll discard him when we’re done, not before. It’s… it’s just politics—”

* * *

Killing the captain would only convince grandfather that they were their father’s children. But Zuko couldn’t let her keep doing this, it wasn’t worth it, he didn’t even care about the throne, not really, not the way she did. It… it didn’t sound so bad, just going home, and playing with their new cousins. Like Lu Ten had played with them.

* * *

(Something something, and then it’s implied they’re headed south just in time to meet Aang, and we end on the same line: Zuko had to catch the Avatar.)

#Azula: I will immolate this man once I have his contacts list #Zuko: I stopped listening after immolate #Cuckoo-Vipers #outtakes #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #Zuko #Azula #Zhao

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gennyanydots · 1 year

Text

This is love I just can’t live without Ch. 5

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!Kazansky!reader (affectionately often called “Baby Ice”)

Biker!au

“This is love I just can’t live without” masterlist

Chapter summary: the aftermath of Jake being an asshole and oh, did you hear about the party tonight?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of losing a parent

Ch. 5 “Counting on beauty to kill off the beast”

Baby Ice

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Natasha grilling her about her new boyfriend, Javy, especially now that you knew he was in the same club as your dad. It was a great way to distract your brain.

“My dad do the shovel talk with him yet?” You asked. Nat basically grew up in your house. From the second you two met in kindergarten, you two had been attached at the hip. Bradley, of course, was also your best friend when you were little but it was different with Nat. Bradley wanted to play bikers all the time and played rough and sometimes you liked that but not all the time. He hated playing dolls with you and never wanted to play tea party, so the minute you found Nat you latched on especially when you found out she loved playing dolls. Oftentimes the three of you would play together so you didn’t have to choose between your two friends which worked out nicely. So for the parents who had decided they only wanted one kid , they almost always had at least two running around their house and sometimes the clubhouse, and they were grateful nonetheless. However, there was no question of where Nat’s loyalties lied when Bradley cheated. Natasha had your back. Always has.

Nat shrugs, “I’m not sure. If he has then I wasn’t told about it.”

“If dad threatened him then there’s a high possibility he also told Javy not to tell you. Or dad wasn’t the one who did it. I wouldn’t put it past Uncle Slider or Uncle Holly,” you said with a grin. “They both threatened your prom date. I thought that poor boy was going to pee his pants!”

Natasha laughs and shoves at your shoulder, “Hey now! Jeff was so nice! If they hadn’t of threatened him then maybe he and I would be married now. He took me to the dance then never talked to me again.”

“Well yeah! Poor guy feared for his life,” you said while laughing. “Now at least you found a guy who won’t pee himself in fear if he comes here to pick you up. Clearly he wasn’t scared when he dropped the food off. Which was so nice of him. Did you text him ‘thank you’ from me?”

“Yes, for the thousandth time, I told him you said thank you.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m rude!” you said exasperatedly. “I literally ran away from him earlier and that was embarrassing enough.”

“Hey, look at me,” Nat said and waits until you meet her eyes to continue. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is an emotional time for you. Javy probably kicked Jake’s ass for setting you off like that. He shouldn’t have said that and he was just being an asshole like always. He had no right.”

“Yeah but it’s been years. I should be over it by now…” you trail off.

Nat shakes her head, “Absolutely not. This is what we’re not doing. We’re not feeling bad about our emotions. Not only are you seeing your first big love for the first time since you broke up…”

“Only love,” you grumble.

Nat ignored you as she continues, “But you also just lost your mom. You’re in a fragile state. You can feel all your feelings if you want. I’m here for whatever you need. You want to cry all week? I’ll cry with you. You want to get mad and break shit? I’m sure we can find things to smash. It’s not like your dad doesn’t have a plethora of baseball bats or crowbars or anything. You want to go out dancing and show everyone how great you’re doing even if you don’t feel it 100% but you just want to make Bradley insane because of what he lost? Done deal. I’ll find a playlist and we can get ready to go out. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I told Javy last week that this week was about my best friend and if he had a problem with that then tough shit but because he’s amazing he didn’t have any problem with it whatsoever and told me to tell him if we needed anything.”

You smile at Nat, “I’m really happy for you. You seemed to find a good one.”

“I did. I don’t know why he hangs out with Jake so much when there are better people to hang out with in the club but clearly he only has great taste in women,” Nat said as she laughs.

“Clearly,” you laugh with her.

You both turn when you hear a knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in!” you both said at the same time and continued laughing together.

The door opens and you see your dad standing there in his coveralls from working in the shop all day, “Well isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. My girls giggling together. Makes my old heart happy to see you two.”

And if that statement doesn’t just pull at your heartstrings. You feel guilty not being around lately for him. It’s why you wanted to spend the whole week here but is it really enough? Your mother was your father’s whole world until you came around. And now that he’s lost your mother? Sure, he has the club and his friends but you’re hours away. His baby girl. His princess. His baby ice.

You smile at your dad and roll your eyes, “You’re not that old dad.”

“Tell that to my back,” your dad said with a chuckle. “So, you girls heading to the party tonight?”

“What party?” You ask and look towards Nat who shrugs at you.

Your dad smirks, “It’s my baby girl’s homecoming party of course. Something to celebrate.”

You groan. That wasn’t how you wanted your night to go. You wanted a girls night with Nat and to maybe revisit her second option that she had listed earlier, the smashing shit one.

Your dad chuckles, “C’mon princess, you turned 21 two years ago and didn’t get to have the party I always wanted to throw you. Please let your old man have this one thing. I don’t ask for much.” He shoots you a pout, one you know very well since yours matches. Ice Man’s genes were strong.

You sigh and look towards Natasha again who once again shrugs.

“Like I said earlier, you call the shots this week. It’s your choice,” Nat says and then laughs when your dad gives her a thumbs up.

You worry your bottom lip. You’d literally be walking into a wolf’s den. There’s almost a 0% chance you won’t see Bradley. Are you ready for that? You couldn’t even handle his name being mentioned earlier.

“Well let me know what your decide, okay? I’m gonna go clean up and change. Regardless of your decision, do you two want pizza for dinner?” your dad asks pointing at the both of you.

You both nod at him.

“Perfect. I’ll order it. Listen out for the doorbell, k girls?” He asks and you both nod again before he’s backing out of your room and closing the door behind him.

You sigh and flop face first down on your mattress.

Nat lays down across your back, “Okay we got some options here: one, we stay here and hangout and don’t go to the party. Two, we go for like ten minutes to appease your father and then come back and hangout. Three, we go and stay by your uncles the whole time. Or, and this one is my favorite, four, we go and look hot as fuck and show Bradley exactly what he missed out on.”

You lift your head slightly, “What about four with three and two as backup plans?”

“Good idea, babes. We’ll need a code word just in case you want to leave immediately. I’m thinking…… avocado,” Nat said as she gets up off of you.

“Why avocado?” You ask looking at her strangely.

“When does that ever come into conversation? Plus you hate avocados.”

“They taste like grass!” You said with a grimace.

“And I will forever wonder why you confidently can compare the two. Okay, time to get up and get ready,” Nat said as she slaps your butt and stands up.

“Oww!” you yell and quickly sit up and throw a pillow at her.

She just laughs, “Let’s go times a tickin! We gotta make ourselves look even more hot!”

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x f!reader #this is love i just can’t live without #top gun biker!au

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xnorthstar3x · 4 months

Text

𝟐 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔

𝟏

As much as I hated to admit it, I felt the tiniest bit better after the session. It was as if I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders but the tiniest speck of sand was lifted from my load. I still needed to run a few errands before it got too late. After finishing with the lady at the front desk I made my way to the glass doors. A chill attacked the warmth that settled on my skin waging a war for dominance, ultimately winning.

'Take a moment to enjoy the good in the world. It would do you good to observe any light you might find.'

That's what Mrs. Thompson had said to me. I decided to take her advice and stood at the front door observing my surroundings. Salt trucks had already been here the night before shoving all the piled-up snow into soiled brown banks. People walked down the street greeting each other like old friends. Snow fell from the sky, dusting the ugly ground in a blanket. It was almost like a mother comforting her child after a nightmare. Speaking of children, Kash was out of food and probably expected me to return home with a heap of it. For such a loving dog he was pretty demanding. Luckily on the way home there happened to be an old grocery store nearby, the owner had known my family for years.

"Hey, Jerry," I said, walking in and waving to the old man at the front counter. He was in his early 70s and was the definition of sunshine. He'd often start his stories with some flashbacks from Vietnam.

"Well hello, little (Y/N). I guess you aren't very little anymore though." He chuckled. He turned around and pulled a pack of Marlboros off the rack.

"I don't think you should be smoking these things. But I don't think I should be telling you that it just ain't my place."

"Thank you, I need to get some more stuff." He nodded and picked up the newspaper he was reading. I grabbed a basket and made my way around the store. When I arrived at the produce in the small store the bell above the door jingled.

"Welcome, are you guys just passing through?"

Out of curiosity, I glanced at the entrance to see two people, a girl who looked to be my age with fiery red hair and a yellow shirt. She stood next to a boy with black hair, who seemed just shy of 6 feet.

"Oh yeah, we're just visiting a family home. We needed a break from the city, we even brought some friends." She smiled gesturing to the parking lot.

"Shame you didn't bring them inside." He stuck a wrinkly hand out to the two of them. "I'm Jerry, Jerry Smith. Nice to meet y'all.."

"My name is April O'Neil and this is Casey Jones." April offered her hand and Casey followed suit. I turned and found refuge in the dog food aisle ignoring the rest of their conversation in favor of choosing between the beef or pork flavor. In all honesty they probably both tasted the same. I closed my eyes and threw whatever my hand landed on in the cart and made my way to the front to pay.

"till next time Jerry." He smiled in response.

When I opened the old glass door I was met with the cold winter air as it slapped me in the face. I was shocked to see a vibrant "hippie van" next to my truck. I threw the bags in the passenger side and stood on the drivers side lighting up a Marlboro. I remembered April mentioned friends when someone inside the van shuffled and began talking.

"What a babe." The statement was followed by a loud slap and a whimper as someone inside the van made a comment about 'respectin women'. I made a face and rolled my eyes, I looked like I just got done shoveling shit (which I practically did) but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. With one final drag of my cigarette I threw it to the pavement and stomped it out as April and Casey came outside with their arms full of groceries. April dumped what she had into Casey's arms and made her way over to me smiling brightly.

"I'm April." She gestured to the struggling male. "That's Casey."

"I heard," I offered simply. I stuck out a hand for her to shake. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, Jerry told me we are neighbors for the time being." She pulled her coat closer to her body as Casey finally got the groceries in the van. A few quiet jests could be her as he gave someone named Donnie the finger before slamming the door.

"Don't worry I won't show up at your door unannounced." I pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I offered it to April who politely declined, I took a long drag from it.

"Well, if it's alright with you," she fished around in her back pocket pulling out a cellphone. "I'd like to get your number."

"I don't have a cell phone." Her face twitched in shock but she masked it quickly with a smile. "I have a house phone though."

After giving her my number I waved bye and hopped into my truck, I pulled out of the driveway and made my way back home. I pulled into the driveway 45 minutes later after a few more stops, Kash was in the window wagging his tail excitedly. He began to bounce when I pulled the bag of food from the cabin of the truck. The snow had let up just a bit, enough though where the tracks of another vehicle were visible in the driveway. A bag was hanging on my doorknob with a note attached to it.

Hey, Dad says to give you this box to take to your new neighbors. The O'Neil girl. He insisted I give it to you, said she left it there in a rush to get outside and meet you.

That's what I figured was going to happen. I chuckled. Jerry always said I needed to socialize more. I took my groceries inside and gave Kash some food before grabbing the bag for that April girl and her weird friends.

Main masterlist

#northstarscorner #x reader #tmnt #tmnt x reader #donnie tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leo #tmnt 2007 #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #rottmnt

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they-reap-what-we-sow · 2 years

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“I need your help, and you can’t ask me any questions.”

on ao3

Buck froze at the kitchen sink, the smile falling off his face from where it had subconsciously popped up as he’d picked up Eddie’s call. He only took a minute to spiral through the worst case scenarios before shaking it off. It didn’t matter what Eddie had done, Buck would be there with a shovel and a lighter in minutes.

Being a firefighter had its perks- specifically very detailed knowledge on how fast and how hot fires need to be to get rid of evidence. Buck dropped to his knees and started digging for the lye soap he kept under his sink when he heard Eddie’s voice calling him from the phone abandoned next to the running sink.

“-uck! Man, you okay?!”

Buck scrambled above his head to grab his phone.

“I’m here! I’m okay! Sorry- okay, I’ll be there in like 10 minutes, just tell me what supplies you need, and don’t touch anything without gloves.”

There was a long silence, and then Eddie asked slowly, “Buck, what do you think I need your help with?” He sounded almost offended, and Buck coughed awkwardly as he tried to explain his convoluted thought process.

“Uh, no- nothing?” He didn’t sound believable, and Buck tried to cover it up, “Cleaning your uh, house?”

“If you thought that I killed somebody, and needed help covering it up, I really hope you’d ask me some questions.” Eddie said, voice breaking down into laughter as he admonished Buck’s enthusiasm.

Buck felt himself blush, heat crawling up the back of his neck as he got to his feet and turned off the still-running sink.

“Hey! I trust you- I’m sure you did it for a reason!” Buck defended himself - and hypothetical murderer Eddie- for their decisions. “It’s not like I wouldn’t help you even if you didn’t have a reason. You wouldn’t do well in jail.”

Buck could almost hear the rolling eyes across the line as Eddie scoffed loudly, “I wouldn’t do well in jail? You’d get chewed up and spit out in the first hour, Buck.”

“I don’t know about that, Eds. I bet I could find someone who’d be willing to protect me.”

The silence this time was heavy with something thick and cloying and unnamed and wanting.

“That’s a bold claim.” Eddie said slowly, daring Buck, almost, to follow through, to take them past the line in the sand they danced around every day.

Buck wasn’t brave enough for that.

“Anyways, I- uh, I actually wanted to ask if you would come with me to watch Christopher at the park,” Eddie finally coughed out, after the quiet between them had stretched so far it had left their conversation in the sticky remnants of the sheer awkwardness.

Buck immediately brightened, “Oh dude, yeah, always! You know I’d never say no to hanging out with my favorite Diaz.”

“It’s uh- he can’t actually see us there.”

“...What.”

Eddie groaned loudly, and Buck heard the sound of the sofa cushions thud as Eddie likely threw himself down in the living room.

“He’s becoming a teenager, Buck. I looked away for a second and now he’s skipping Science Club meetings and playing video games after his bedtime and defying his grounding! Why can’t he just stay a baby?” Eddie asked mournfully. Buck laughed sympathetically, wishing he could be there to embrace the tired closeness that Eddie so easily handed away this late at night.

“Oh, yeah. He’s about to outgrow you any day now. Not like that’s hard, obviously.” Buck teased softly, ambling across the loft to fall into his own armchair. He sprawled out, relaxing to the backing track of Eddie’s voice in his ear.

“Buck. He wants to hang out with his friends without me. Without any adults.” Eddie complained, and suddenly it struck Buck exactly what Eddie was talking about.

Buck wondered pitifully if Christopher would still claim him as a best friend if he asked the boy today. He resolved not to ask. He couldn’t take the outright rejection.

“Oh no. We’re losing him to puberty?” Buck bemoaned.

“We’re losing him to puberty.” Eddie confirmed, and both of them pouted in companionable silence for a moment of mourning the loss of Christopher’s idealization.

“So you’ll come with me to follow Christopher through the park, right?” Eddie asked.

“You can count on it,” Buck said, “I’ll bring the disguises.”

#they're his dads #911 show #911 on fox #Evan buckley #Eddie diaz #Christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #911 6x04 coda #krowabbey

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wastelandmoony · 10 months

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Déjà Vécu: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen : Pitch Perfect

Summary: Sports!

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only!, angst, anxiety/overwhelming feelings, language, mentions of death and self harm, mentions of abuse, mentions of drinking.

A/N: Hiya friendz. Long story short, I accidentally deleted the document I was writing this on, including the already completed ending and full plot outline. 50k+ words in, and needless to say I was enraged. After taking a short break to grieve, I picked it back up and I'm very happy to be continuing.

I also think it's worth mentioning that I truly believe Sirius is a good person, but he's also a product of his environment. He's not perfect, he's not a proper gentleman. His family is extremely fucked and I believe that some of those mindsets/attitudes have seeped into his psyche, and he needs to do some deep unlearning to amend those. With that being said, please don't come for me for writing him to be a lil bit of a dick lol

Read on AO3

Companion Playlist

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

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

September 1st, 1974

“—I need you to sit still, otherwise I’m going to end up chopping your ear off!”

Peter sat on the floor of the train compartment in-between her legs while she carefully poked the tip of her wand through his hair. Barty Crouch had launched a wad of Droobles gum out of the window as they were entering the passenger car, striking Pete directly on the side of his head and immediately bonding to his hair. Sirius had his wand poised at their compartment instantly, but upon seeing Regulus’ smirk he faltered, lowing his arm as she pulled him into the corridor. James had tried to charm the gum out, to no avail. After 45 minutes of whinging, yanking, and a few singed locks of hair, she knew what had to be done.

Gingerly, she ran her wand through the side of his head, muttering a severing charm against the fine blond strands.

Once complete, she sat back and sighed, “Sorry Pete, it’s the best I could do.”

She was able to save the majority of the affected area, but there was still a pretty visible chunk of hair missing. Peter reached up, groaning as he grazed his fingertips over the shorn spot.

“Relax mate, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back,” Sirius chided from the corner.

Peter stood up, shooting him a glare, “Speak for yourself, how’d you feel if you had to cut yours?”

Instantly, Sirius’ hand shot up to touch his dark locks, which he had yet to trim since last summer. The sight was comical, the expression of mild terror washing across his face at the thought. She stifled a laugh, smiling over at Remus who was slumped by the window reading. He had barely spoken to any of them since they met at the platform. She nudged him with her foot, raising an eyebrow as he looked up through his lashes.

You okay?

Just like Sirius and James, they could communicate with just a look, the result of spending almost every day together for years.

Remus shook his head slightly, eyes sinking down to meet the page again. He wasn’t going to open up with the others in earshot.

She dug through her bag on the floor, emerging with the leather-bound sketchbook he had gifted her last year. Tapping him with the toe of her shoe once more, he reluctantly retrieved his own as she quietly scribbled a question mark onto the page, discretely tapping her wand so the other boys wouldn’t notice. Remus’ hastily scrawled response came quickly, causing her heart to drop into her stomach.

Mum’s worse. She won’t make it to Christmas.

———

September 10th, 1974

“Is he even chewing?” Marlene whispered in her ear as they both stared at James from across the breakfast table.

He was visibly distracted, eyes constantly darting down towards the Gryffindor Team Captain at the end of the row while he mindlessly shoveled food into his mouth.

“What’s wrong with him?” She looked over at Sirius beside him, calm and collected as he flipped through a Defense textbook.

“Try-out list goes up today. He’s worried he’ll lose his spot on the team to someone new, wants to be the first to sign up…something about ‘showing determination’?”

“Can they do that? Replace current members with new ones?” She was a little shocked by that notion, something that seemed rather unfair in her opinion, but then again she wasn’t really a sports-girl.

“If they’re better qualified, yeah,” Sirius turned his focus back to the book on the table.

“Aren’t you worried about your position too?” She took a bite of toast as he smirked.

“Not in the slightest, I’m the best Beater this team has had in years—“

Marlene cleared her throat.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Relax, McKinnon. All I’m saying is they’d be stupid to replace me.”

“…and why’s that exactly?”

“I put butts in seats.”

She looked at Marlene and the two burst into laughter, almost spraying pumpkin juice onto the table.

Sirius face was blank when she caught her breath.

“So you’re saying, that they won’t replace you because you’re their star player?” She choked out.

He nodded, “It also helps that I’m the best looking one on the team.”

Another round of laughter from her and Marlene, this one drawing James’ attention.

“What’s so funny? He asked, watching as the two girls gasped for air.

“Sirius thinks he’s the heartthrob of the century, said he’s not in danger of being replaced on the team because everyone comes to the matches to see him grace the skies!” She giggled back, Marlene held her sides as she cackled.

James nudged his friend, “None of us are safe mate. I heard rumors that little second year on reserves is stellar with a bat, the quiet one with the curls?”

Sirius scowled, “…the girl?”

“Oi!” She kicked him under the table, “What’s the problem with that?”

He shrugged, “Nothing, there’s just…not many good girl quidditch players. Flannery would be stupid to replace me with—“

“—a girl?” She interjected, eyebrow cocked.

Sirius held her gaze, eyes narrowing, “Anyone.”

The four of them sat in tense silence for a moment, James retreating back to his food.

Ryan Flannery, the Gryffindor Captain, stood up a few meters down and turned to leave the hall, scarlet team jersey shining bright in a sea of black robes.

She stood up silently, gathering her things without so much as a word.

“Where’re you headed?” James looked up.

She tightened the bag strap over her shoulder, “Sign up sheet is being posted.”

“You can’t be serious!” Sirius whinged, mouthful of food, “You can’t even play on our team, what point are you trying to make?”

“I may not be able to take your position, but I can definitely help my house defeat yours, and humble you beyond belief,” shooting him one last glare, she spun on her heel and strode out of the hall.

———

September 21st, 1974

Fourth year had not started out well for Sirius Black. Not only had one of his best friends ceased speaking to him, but Mary had finally had enough and broken off their relationship after he had forgotten her birthday in lieu of embarking on another prank with the boys. The cherry-on-top of the proverbial bad-luck sundae, was that Mary had begun to spend increasingly more time with his best friend and Marlene, the three of them attached at the hip for the majority of the day, much to Sirius’ misery.

“You can’t just sit around all day moping,” James tossed a quaffle into the air, sprawled across his bed while Sirius buried himself in a book.

“I’m not moping,” he growled, “I’m studying.”

“We haven’t been back for even a full month yet!” James sat upright, the ball tumbling off the side of the four-poster.

Sirius ignored his friend, trying to focus on the words written across the page that at the current moment were becoming impossible to read.

“C’mon,” James appeared at the side of his bed, ripping the book from his hands and placing it on the side table, “take your problems out on a bludger.”

So he did.

Every ounce of emotion he felt was poured into quidditch. He thought of his mother’s sneer as he swung the bat at an oncoming assault; or of Mary, and the way her mouth curled when she called him immature during their breakup. He thought of Reggie passing by in the corridors, looking through him like he didn’t exist.

Nothing compared to the thoughts of her though. The way her eyes erupted like wildfire the morning she argued with him over the breakfast table, her shoulders set tight as she strode confidently out of the hall. He thought of his first morning back from Christmas break the year prior, how he’d embarrassingly cried to her in the confines of the dormitory. He thought of the color of her hair, strands glowing in the crack of light from his bed curtains, asleep on his shoulder when he woke up hours after begging her to stay; he’d never noticed the faint freckles on the tops of her cheeks before—

—crack!

“Easy, Black!” James called, still hunched over from avoiding an overly aggressive hit.

Sirius shook his head to focus, “Sorry mate, got carried away…”

———

October 12th, 1974

Marlene had been running her ragged ever since the morning she decided to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. She had excitedly offered to train her up until the morning of, something that was originally welcomed. After the first week, her body was screaming for it to stop. She could already fly pretty well, it was learning the reflexes and technique of the position that was difficult. Every morning at dawn, Marlene would meet her at the pitch for training. She’d then drag herself to class, every muscle threatening revolt.

The morning of try-outs had her nervous to the point of nausea. It didn’t help that Gryffindor was also holding their session at the same time at the opposite end of the pitch. Marlene and James met her at the edge of the locker room, eager smiles and confident hugs from both. She didn’t see Sirius until she was in the air, circling the posts to warm up. He was sitting atop his broom across the field, talking to James mid-air about something, hands gesticulating wildly. James caught her looking at shot her a thumbs up, Sirius turned his head to see and immediately set his mouth into a hard line.

Fuck you, watch this, she thought angrily.

Falling into line with the others, she waited patiently for her name to be called, watching intently at the competition. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team was never great, only having won a handful of championships in their time, they were consistently lack-luster in the aggression department which always ultimately led to their downfall. Luckily for them, she had enough rage coursing through her veins due to Sirius’ casual misogyny to make up for the entire roster’s deficit.

She’s not sure what happened once the whistle blew, the adrenaline rush caused her to blackout. The sound of the bat cracking against a violent force echoed, paired with the whipping of the passing air. Only fully returning to her body when both feet touched solid ground, she looked around to find a dozen wildly grinning Hufflepuffs, and a blonde Gryffindor beater racing across the pitch cheering.

Marlene threw an arm around her shoulders, squeezing tightly like a proud mom, “You were brilliant! James stopped midway through a drill so we could watch!”

She looked down the field towards the practicing Gryffindor team, James and Sirius wearing completely opposite expressions. While the former whooped and cheered, the latter was a statue, eyes wide and mouth agape.

The Hufflepuff captain jogged over and pulled her attention away, clapping a firm hand on her back, “Right, so,” he chuckled, “this hasn’t happened in recent memory, usually we wait to try out all of the recruits, but I think I speak for the entire team when I say we would love to offer you the open beater position. I don’t think we’ve seen that type of maneuvering…well, ever.”

She let out an exhausted laugh, smiling over at Marlene who was still draped over her shoulder, “Of course I accept, I’d be honored.”

Marlene cheered, giving her one last squeeze before sprinting back to her own team. She watched as James leaned over to say something to Sirius, who still remained stoic. He quickly averted his gaze, which had been narrowed on her ever since.

———

October 12th, 1974

Sirius had been nervous all morning, not because of his own team’s try outs, but because of hers. He knew she was excellent on a broom, but that didn’t do anything to stop the sinking feeling in his stomach every time he thought of her in the air. It was the same feeling that hit him years ago, as he watched her fall just out of reach. He’d never been able to shake it, as ridiculous as it sounded, and now she was going to throw bludgers into the mix? What was she trying to do, kill him?

They still hadn’t spoken since the morning of their fight in the Great Hall, so he kept his distance as James and Marlene wished her good luck just outside the locker room, opting instead to make a beeline for the rest of their team by the goalposts at the far end of the pitch. Mounting his broom, he tried to breathe and retreat into a calmer mindset. James met him in the air, immediately launching into an explanation of some new formation he wanted to try out. In order to not give away the fact that he currently wanted to jump out of his own skin, Sirius tried to match his best friends enthusiasm, adding some flourishes to his idea and pretending like it was the most important discussion in the world. Mid-way through a thought about Seeker training, James drifted off, shooting a thumbs up to the other side of the field. Sirius followed his eyes and saw her hovering near the opposite goalposts. She looked nervous, he could tell by the little furrow between her brows, she did it a lot while studying he’d noticed. The sinking feeling was returning, and he clenched his jaw to relieve some of the sensation, watching as she joined the rest of the yellow and black uniforms.

Turning to James, he motioned towards their own teammates, “Let’s get started, yeah?”

He tried not to watch her, instead putting every ounce of focus into beating out the new Gryffindor hopefuls. During the 3rd chaser trial, James called a time-out.

Sirius flew over to his friend, slightly bewildered at the sudden stop-in-play, “What’s wrong?”

James shook his head and pointed across the pitch, “She’s up.”

His breathing hitched, and he paused for longer than a moment before spinning around and watching what he could only describe as the most graceful display of a violent position he’d ever seen.

The bat was truly an extension of her arm, moving effortlessly through the air as she dove and weaved through the others. One back-handed hit almost had him gasping for air, the way she had turned without missing a beat and avoided an almost catastrophic blast from the incoming bludger. It was hypnotizing.

As the Hufflepuff captain blew the whistle, she began to retreat back towards the ground, and soon Sirius saw Marlene rocketing across the field below to undoubtedly embrace their friend. Beside him, James was pumping his fist in the air, cheering loudly so she could hear. He couldn’t do anything but stare as she smiled at the team captain, saying something that caused Marlene to hug her again before making a return back to their side of the field. His clear inability to speak caught James’ attention, earning him a strong clap on the shoulder.

“You should think about closing your mouth mate,” James whispered in his ear, “people might think you love her or something.”

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