#things heat up next ch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

splaede · 2 months

Text

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his.

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch.

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time.

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed.

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down.

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him.

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away.

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face.

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.”

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes.

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief.

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now.

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would.

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation.

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead.

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous.

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line.

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued.

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?”

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away.

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?”

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that.

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.”

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again.

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him.

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow.

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body.

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet.

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy.

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin.

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same.

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner.

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth.

You were the first to pull away for air.

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again.

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed.

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.”

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what.

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought.

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going?

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again.

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest.

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do?

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?”

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise.

“No…”

“Then what?”

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache.

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing.

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares?

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now.

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world.

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.”

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his.

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words.

“Can I carry you?”

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal.

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer.

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.”

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms.

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.”

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly.

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste.

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot.

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss.

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved.

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way.

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards.

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh.

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good.

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant.

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing.

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms.

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly.

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs.

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him.

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs.

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?”

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.”

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself.

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples.

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs.

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples.

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts.

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust.

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties.

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once.

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it.

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips.

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand.

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?”

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.”

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.”

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine.

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.”

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it.

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly.

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly.

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that?

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.”

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling.

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you.

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently.

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.”

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body.

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt.

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked.

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso.

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.”

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed.

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins.

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away.

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.”

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers.

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.”

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first.

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again.

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was.

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties.

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you.

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting.

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before.

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?”

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.”

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body.

“I know.”

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.”

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again.

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before.

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face.

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit.

“You wanna move down now?” you asked.

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face.

“Show me how.” He said, adamant.

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth.

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was.

“Just like that,” you whispered.

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further.

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.”

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy.

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out.

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed.

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.”

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot.

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing.

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking.

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds.

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist.

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled.

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan.

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter.

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.”

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised.

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped.

The coil snapped.

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole.

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine.

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next.

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets.

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute.

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy.

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.”

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.”

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge.

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes.

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth.

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue.

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed.

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you.

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next.

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness.

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?”

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face.

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly.

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?”

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs.

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.”

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids.

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.”

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit.

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.”

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands.

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package.

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end.

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing.

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up.

“I think so.” He nodded.

“Want to do it?”

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.”

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him.

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them.

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck.

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again.

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing.

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine.

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.”

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch.

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him.

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.”

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity.

You had.

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out.

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown.

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy.

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more.

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue.

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good.

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him.

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand.

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit.

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes.

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you.

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways.

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin.

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine.

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.”

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment.

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting.

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good.

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.”

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit.

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck.

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him.

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow.

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips.

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with.

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you.

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force.

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole.

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend.

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body.

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore.

He smirked down at you.

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked.

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!”

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat.

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides.

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy.

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes.

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight.

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath.

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process.

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened.

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple.

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you.

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face.

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex.

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to.

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something.

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out.

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.”

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled.

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard.

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him.

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.”

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

☰ taglist: ✩⭒｡ @rinsie @tengensgirlfriend @ela-dahe @his-brats-fantasies @genderfluid-anime-goth @alison-renee @kanekisfavoritegf @desireness @juiceboxreads @cyphdaze @herequeerandarmedwithaspear @v-lleitie @chscklvr @sadwhorehrs @greeniegreengreen @iamstraightcis @sea-you-in-paradise @lazullywinter @ihrtjere @benwishaw @sad-darksoul @tojifushiguroapologist @nae-babi @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @izuoyarmin @zzzombiie @arminsu @motheatenswan @chiinni @therealisttheillest @dreamofkaty @awesomestelias @arminarlertssword @apfelzeugs @kattieesworld @erensfavvvv @lazullywinter @p4ndawrites @yuutalvr @aj-1154

#armin x reader #armin x you #aot #snk #armin arlert x reader #armin smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin arlert smut #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #armin arlert #eren yeager #aot smut #angst #nerd armin #attack on titan x reader

648 notes · View notes

afterglowkatie · 4 days

Text

mini and co | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 1.4k | a day off for the found family, the sun finally making an appearance leading to a mini and co family picnic

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. my favourite found family dynamic

‘Shh, you gotta be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Kyra,’ You whispered crouching down next to Harper, smiling at her little laughs. It was a sunny, warmish day which had you all outside at the park soaking in any bit of sun you could get. Mini and Clara talked about a potential picnic that morning, not fully sure of the idea, though they hadn’t counted on the little ears that had been listening in who definitely wouldn’t let go of the idea. Harper insisted she had to individually call you, Kyra and Charli to join them.

An afternoon of running around playing games trying to wear out the toddler, Kyra had ended up being the one to fall asleep in the sun on the picnic rug. Mini, Clara and Charli in deep conversation paying no mind to you and Harper, you saw this as the perfect opportunity to rope your little shadow into some mischief. The three of you always liked fighting over who was Harper’s favourite, but there wasn’t any doubt that you were her favourite. No matter where you were, she was always next to you.

‘Shh, be quiet,’ Harper loudly whispered, holding her finger up to her lips. You held back a laugh after seeing how serious she was looking at you and then at Charli who had spotted the two of you creeping up on Kyra, full unscrewed water bottle in your hands. She just smirked, rolling her eyes and continued to keep Mini and Clara distracted by the conversation so they couldn’t interrupt yours and Harper's plans.

‘Ready Harps?’ You whispered, the little giggles coming from her were all the confirmation you needed. Helping Harper, you both lifted the water bottle above Kyra, giving a silent countdown before tipping the bottles entire contents onto her. Kyra groaned confused as she sat up looking at herself, her clothes wet before waking up enough to hear the laughter coming from you and Harper. The corners of Kyra’s lips started to form into a small smile hearing you laugh, no matter what she always loved the sound. Though she quickly wiped away any evidence of a smile instead shooting a glare towards the two of you who were laughing so hard you struggled to breathe.

‘Oi, you’ll regret that’ Kyra playfully grumbled while playing along. Quickly sitting up enough to reach out and grab you. Kyra’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into her.

‘Oh no! Harper, Kyra’s got me, run and save yourself,’ You dramatically yelled out to her, faux struggling against Kyra knowing you could definitely get yourself free if you wanted to, and pointing in a direction which Harper ran off in away from everyone.

‘No Kywa!’ Harper yelled while running off, Mini following closely behind her trying to hold back her own laughter while shaking her head.

‘Ugh Kyra, you’re all wet,’ Your hands went to hers that were locked around your waist, trying to pull them apart so you could at least sit next to her where you also weren’t getting wet. But she just tightened her hold on you, pulling you even closer, smirking while hearing you protest even more until you finally relaxed into her embrace accepting that Kyra wasn’t letting you go any time soon.

‘I wonder who’s fault that is,’ Kyra rasped out almost into your ear, her head leaning against your shoulder, ‘Don’t dish it if you can’t take it,’ Kyra annoyingly pressed an extra sloppy kiss against your cheek knowing that you’d hate it. Screwing up your face at Kyra you wiped it away onto her arm. She feigned offence at your actions, a faux gasp leaving her lips, you just rolled your eyes.

Looking away from Kyra and back to where Mini was now chasing Harper around the park. You couldn’t deny the way you felt your cheeks heat up when Kyra’s lips found your cheek. It wasn’t an unusual thing to happen, you both often gave each other little kisses on the cheek and forehead. It was the way you showed your affection, despite your friendship being based on teasing, mocking and pranking each other. There were still those soft moments between the pair. The unusual part was how you felt towards it this time. Though Kyra is just your best friend and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a part of you that realises that you don’t have this same internal reaction whenever any of your other close friends show affection towards you. The other part of you, the one that takes over, pushes those thoughts away. For now at least.

‘Who do you think’s gonna win?’ Kyra’s voice pulled you back into reality. You hummed out thinking while watching the scene play out in front of you. It had turned into a game for Harper trying to get away and stay away from her mum for as long as possible.

‘Obviously Harper. You’ve been the one to chase Harps enough that you know Mini is not winning this one,’ Kyra chuckled as did you. You both had been the one chasing after Harper countless times. Toddlers can be fast when they want to be and you both found that out the hard way.

‘You two look quite comfy,’ Charli had moved over to where the two of you were sitting, Clara going to help wrangle the 2 year old. Only then did you notice that Kyra’s grip on you had loosened, definitely enough that if you wanted to move away you could have done so ages ago.

‘Kyra makes a great pillow,’ You laughed out, joking around while leaning your head against Kyra’s shoulder.

‘Oh let me test this out,’ Without warning Charli had laid against Kyra’s side with her head on Kyra’s other shoulder, ‘You’re right. Room for both of us,’ She hummed in agreement. You both laughed while Kyra tried to push Charli off of her.

‘Nah, only for tiny Catley. You get off,’ You rolled your eyes, your unofficial nickname being tiny since you were younger and noticeably shorter than your older sister. That name followed you from even before you were called up for your first seniors camp, so it wasn’t a surprise when you did arrive to everyone calling you tiny or tiny Catley or some variation.

Your heart always did race a little whenever Kyra chose you over anyone else, even if you thought it didn’t mean anything other than you just being her favourite friend, ‘Aw no fair Kywa, I’m your bestfriend too,’ You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips and shook your body when you heard Charli’s mocking tone and then saw the pout she threw Kyra’s way.

Though before Kyra could successfully get Charli off of her, she found herself at the bottom of not just two bodies but now three, ‘Cuddle!’ Harper yelled while running full force and jumping on the top of all three of you. You opened your arms letting Harper get comfy, while Charli shot Kyra a look of triumph knowing there was no way Kyra would try anything not while Harper was also a part of the pile on top of her.

You stayed like that until Harper had fallen asleep and Mini decided it was probably time for them to head home. While helping pack everything away you noticed Kyra shiver a little, ‘Ky, come with me,’ You didn’t wait for her to respond before you pulled her away from the group towards your car. No other words said to her before you were shoving your arsenal training jumper over her head, ‘You never know when you need a jumper,’ Answering Kyra’s silent question.

‘In some ways you’re just like your Steph,’ Kyra fiddled with the bottom of your jumper that was now on her body, ‘But you’re obviously better,’

‘You should definitely tell her that I’m the better Catley. Gotta knock Steph down a little,’ You both laughed out before being interrupted and brought back to the world when Mini and co. came over to say goodbye and grab Kyra to take her home, ‘I’ll see you at training Ky,’

‘Yeah see you at training,’ Turning around to follow Mini, Kyra couldn’t help but smile to herself. Playing with the bottom of the jumper that was a little bit too small for her, but that didn’t matter, the fact it was yours and you had given it to her for now was all that mattered to Kyra. It was all she could think about on her way home. You were all she could think about on her way home.

#kyra cooney cross x you #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #auswnt #katrina gorry #charli grant #harper gorry #clara markstedt #awfc #woso #woso one shot #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagines #womens football

337 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 5 months

Text

Puzzle Pieces Ch11

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, car sex, cockwarming, praise

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

There was a slight chill in the air as the season's first snowflakes finally trickled down the cloudy sky. The moment Halloween passed, the atmosphere just smelled like Christmas. Every store, building and park was decorated for the holiday season.

Despite the cold winter air, the citizens of Nueva York kept their fall attire of simple t shirts and light sweaters. Those from out of town were easy to identify.

Such as Eddie Brock, who wore a thick coat and hat as he stood in front of your supermarket job. Frustrated by the fact that he could see his breathe, Eddie made his way inside. He breathed a sigh of relief towards the warmth and proceeded to the bakery section.

"Excuse me, is (Y/N) here?" Eddie said smoothly with a charming smile. One of the workers glanced at him,

"Not sure, she works at the Deli."

"Oh, Deli? Really?" Eddie whispered and thanked the worker.

That was a surprise. You were too chicken to handle something as fast pace as the deli back home. Here was worse. Hell, Eddie wouldn't be surprised if he saw you with gray hairs. Just the thought made him snort.

"Is (Y/N) around?" Eddie asked your supervisor.

Upon hearing your name, your supervisor glanced up at Eddie. Not recognizing the man, your supervisor hesitated. Everyone in the supermarket knew that you and Miguel were a thing. Miguel had already claimed you as his own and everyone was to make sure you did not have a hard time.

It wouldn't be pretty if you did.

"She called out." Your supervisor said simply and glanced at Eddie once more, "Mind if I ask who you are so I can inform her when she comes back."

"Her boyfriend. She left while I was away for work, do you think I could know when she works next? I'm sure she will be pleasantly surprised to see me,"

"Sorry, can't give out that information."

"Not even to her boyfriend?"

"No." Your supervisor said firmly. Eddie scoffed slightly,

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow then."

Once Eddie was out of sight, your supervisor was quick to reach for the store phone. You picked a good day to call out, but Jessica was not here to see this interaction. Eddie was a dead man if Miguel ever found out that he claimed to be your boyfriend.

"Yes, I have some news for the boss."

----------

You were ecstatic as Miguel took you out for the day. It took little to no convincing when he had you call out and already had his driver waiting. You put on your best clothes for him and followed Miguel everywhere.

Everything you looked at for longer than 10 seconds, Miguel ended up buying. You were quick to get embarrassed and tried to tell him to stop spoiling you, but you secretly loved it. No one had spoiled you the way he was.

"The bed is going to have no room for us if you keep looking at stuffed animals," Miguel whispered in your ear before kissing your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up as you turned to him,

"S-Sorry, they're all just so c-cute." You replied and grabbed his hand as you pulled him past the store, "B-But I don't n-need anymore!"

"Amor (love), let me get you everything your heart desires." Miguel said with a loving smile.

You hugged Miguel in response. You really couldn't believe how good he was to you. That and you kept forgetting that he was rich. Miguel will literally buy you everything you want and that was dangerous.

"I-I like those plush...B-But all I really want t-to cuddle with is...is you," You squeaked, hiding your face in your sleeves.

Miguel nearly groaned at your cute little confession. He just wanted to grab you by the waist and cover you with kiss and marks, but, you were out in a public mall. Miguel had a reputation to keep. He was just going to have to wait until you two get in the car.

As the two of you passed a large opening, Miguel looked down at the street below. Furrowing his brows, Miguel watched as a small crowd formed around two drug addicts being cuffed by the police. This was nothing new, but the drug was.

Thanks to the new mafia gang in town, Venom, a new drug has spread like wildfire. Miguel did not like it when his city and people were being threaten. This new drug was making whoever took it hallucinate that they were part of a hive mind and worshiped their King.

"Miggy, I'm going to get a drink. D-Do you want anything?" You asked innocently, unaware of what was happening around you.

"No thank you, amor. Here," Miguel gave you his card and kissed your hand, "Get yourself a snack too. You look a little pale,"

"Mhm, t-thank...you,"

Miguel watched you smile shyly, hurrying back to the line. He had to protect your smile. You were robbed of it so much already. As Miguel watched you, he felt his burner ring. Quickly answering it, Miguel moved away from other people.

"Sir, we got a tip from the supermarket. A stranger appeared and requested for (Y/N), claiming to be her boyfriend." Jessica said over the line. Miguel inhaled sharply,

"Did they send footage?"

"Yes, Lyla is sending you an enhanced image of her ex. We'll finally have a face to go with the name."

"The audacity for him to call himself her boyfriend, ha...Hahaha, I'm going to-"

"Hehe, what's so funny?" You asked, your smile wide as you drank your sweet smoothie. Miguel stroked your cheek,

"Nothing, mi dulce conejito (my sweet little bunny)." Miguel patted your head, adoring your expression, "Jessica, I want everyone to keep an eye out, okay?" He whispered.

"One more thing, Miguel. Apparently, Eddie is going to keep going back to the supermarket until he sees (Y/N)."

"That won't happen,"

With a click, Miguel hung up on Jessica and returned his attention to you. That smile of yours was being threaten again. As much as Miguel wanted to leave and go find your ex now, he couldn't leave you alone.

"Miguel, is there anything you want?" You asked, holding his hand.

"We're shopping for you today,"

"I-I know, but Christmas...is around the c-corner...and...and I want to get you s-something...t-that you'll like...or...need." You whispered, pressing your head against his arm. Miguel felt his chest tighten, wondering how many horrible holidays you've gone through,

"Anything you give me I'll cherish with all my heart," Miguel kissed the top of your head, walking around the mall some more, "But, if it pleases you, I can have my assistant, Lyla, help you."

"R-Really?! T-Thank you!"

Miguel was eager to gobble you up again. He resisted and kept spoiling you by buying clothes, gifts and whatever you looked at. He had forgotten about Christmas, since it really wasn't something that Miguel focused on.

Miguel probably should start getting his mother and brother something for Christmas, and of course you. Noticing one of the pop up Christmas stores coming up ahead, Miguel felt you slightly pull against his sleeve.

"Go on, conejita (bunny). I'm right behind you."

You squealed softly as you hurried to the store. Miguel chuckled lowly since it was one of those calendar stores, but it wasn't the calendars that made you excited. Miguel casually stood behind you as you ravaged the puzzles.

Now this gave Miguel an idea.

--------

You hummed happily as you walked out of the mall with lots of new puzzles. Sure, Miguel bought you plenty of other things, but the puzzles was what you were more excited about. Having his driver take all of your bags, you smiled as Miguel followed you inside.

"Someone's happy," Miguel teased. You slowly crawled onto his lap, pecking his lips,

"Thank you...so...so much!" You chirped. Miguel's hands rested against your waist, gently biting your lip,

"We have some time until we reach the restaurant." He groaned, slowly undoing your pants. You huffed your cheeks softly,

"D-Don't be t-too rough."

"Never," Miguel said with a smirk as he hand stroked your cheek.

You whimpered softly, feeling your heart race as Miguel started to give you an array of kisses. Although you said for him not to be too rough, you honestly loved it when he was. Slowly grinding your hips against his, you melted against his touch.

---------

Eddie cursed slightly as he walked down the streets of Nueva York. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he watched the normal citizens ignore him. That was all going to change soon. Soon, his new drug was going to get into everyone's hands.

Everyone will worship him.

But, he couldn't without his star player. You. Eddie needed you to help put his new drug into regular citizen's hands. But you just had to move without telling anyone. You just had to be useless and make his life harder.

"Gentle, Eddie. We have to be gentle at first," Eddie whispered to himself.

He wasn't going to take you back without force of course. Eddie knew that he could still manipulate you to do his bidding. All he had to do was say a few sweet words and you would come crawling back to him. It was easy.

Stopping at the edge of a sidewalk, Eddie couldn't help but notice the fancy limo car beside him. He cocked a brow since the back of the mini limo was shaking. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, knowing that someone was having the time of their life.

The windows weren't even tinted that much. When the light turned green, Eddie went to get a glance as the slutty couple. His eyes widen as he swore he saw you moaning as you bounced on some stranger's dick.

"Nah, we're just seeing things now." Eddie whispered, before reaching for his phone, "But...I better get (Y/N)'s address just to be sure."

----------

You moaned loudly as Miguel held your hips down. You were clenching against his dick as your body calmed down from another harsh orgasm. You swore you saw stars as your body finally relaxed. Miguel chuckled, kissing your neck as he slowly started to thrust back into you,

"See? I said I would be gentle," He teased, rubbing your clit in the process. You wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering softly,

"I-I know~ mhm~ B-But...W-What if s-someone...ah~"

"I can always lower the window,"

"N-No~" You cried out as Miguel went faster, "M-Miggy~ I-I w-wanna be able t-to w-walk~"

"You will, baby," Miguel chuckled darkly.

Flinging your head back as you rode Miguel's dick, you moaned as you felt nothing but pleasure. Miguel grunted as he pulled you back in and groaned as he started to get rougher. You gasped and cried as Miguel brought you to another orgasm.

"Miguel~" You cried out.

"Good girl, (Y/N)," Miguel groaned as he unloaded inside of you, "See, still gentle,"

"Mhm," You rested against his chest, calming from your high, "S-Still super e-embarrassing. A-Are you sure...y-your driver d-didn't hear us?" Miguel carefully fixed you back up as the driver looked for parking,

"I'm sure." Miguel smirked, pecking your lips as he trailed your panty line, "Want him to hear us?"

"N-No!" You squeaked, covering your face.

Miguel laughed towards your behavior and helped you out of the car. He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into the restaurant since your legs were still shaking. He glanced down at your flustered cheeks and thought. He needed to casually tell you that it wasn't safe to go back to work.

"(Y/N), what would you think about not working at the supermarket anymore? I can take care of all your needs." He whispered as the waiter greeted them. You glanced up at Miguel,

"B-But...I don't want-" You stopped, knowing that Miguel didn't think of you as a burden, "I-I'll feel like I'm...just using y-you. I-I want to w-work too."

"Then, work for me?" Miguel suggested as they sat at their fancy table, "I could always use an extra hand." He offered. Your eyes sparkled at the suggestion,

"R-Really?" You gasped and thought, "A-As much...as I-I would like a c-change...but...I...I really can't."

"Why not, baby?"

"W-Well...I-I haven't had...a chance to t-tell you...But," You covered your mouth, looking shyly towards Miguel, "M-My parents...o-own the supermarket I work at...W-Which i-is why...s-someone like me can e-even work...t-there."

Miguel's eyes widen as he proceeded this new information. The supermarket that he took care of his mafia business at; the supermarket were he got his goods from; the supermarket that Miguel had great connection with....was owned by your family.

And those same owners told your ex where you went.

"Is that so?" Miguel said with a devilish smirk.

This just made things even easier for Miguel.

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

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

775 notes · View notes

countcvnt · 2 months

Text

Experiment

Chapter Four: Stamina

[Poly!TF 141 x Fem!Reader]

[Ch. Three] [Ch. Five]

Summary: After a couple days of rest, you realize just how much stamina you have. You train with boys to get some energy out. Warnings: Descriptions of broken bones, mentions of blood, slight suggestive language Word Count: 3.3k A/N: This chapter isn't as sad. Next chapter will have light smut! I got the idea of the chapter link thing from @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries so thanks Ikea!! Hope it's alright tag you just for that lmao. Also I just learned how to do the side by side gifs yay!!

It’s been a couple days since your nap… Since your realization. Simon has only been more distant. You’re sitting in the training area, alone, when Soap and Gaz walk in.

"We got ye this!” Soap extends his hand. “It’s a radio!” You look up at him with confusion. “I ken it isnae a phone…”

“Hey,” You grab it, “it’s better than nothing. Now I can bother all of you all the time!”

“Actin’ more and more like yerself!” Soap hits you on the back. It catches you off guard how hard he hit you. You are fine, you aren’t going to bruise, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d always nudged or hit you so hard. “How come yer here by yerself?”

You shrug. “Simon was supposed to meet me here. Do some training. Guess he skipped out on me.”

Soap lights up. “I can help ye!” He seems excited.

“We both can, actually.” Gaz interjects.

You nod, lighting up. “Okay! I’d like that. I’ll be sure to go easy on the both of you.” You smile at them as you stand up. You already stretched earlier, ten minutes before Simon was supposed to come in. So, instead of doing that, you walk to the middle of the room and stand there, eagerly awaiting Soap and Gaz.

“Now,” Soap puts a hand up, “don’ think ye have to go easy on us.”

Gaz makes a face, “You haven’t seen her strength yet, have you?”

You laugh. “I’ll hold back a little bit…” You reassure him. “But, I don’t want either of you to hold back. I promise, I can take it. Trust me.”

You take a fighting stance, ready for them to come at you. Gaz and Soap look at each other. Gaz gives a gentle nod to Soap, one you assume you were not supposed to catch, and Soap takes off towards you. You plant your feet and prepare yourself for Soap hitting you. His rough hands grab you, and the both of you grapple for a moment. Your arms get free and instinctively wrap around Soap’s ribcage, and get behind him at a speed he was unsure was possible.

You easily bring him up and over you, suplexing him into the mat below you. You stand up straight and look down at Soap. He groans, the air has been knocked out of him. You smile at him and he motions for Gaz to move.

“Yer suppose’ to ger ‘er now.”

Gaz looks at you funny. “I don’t think I want to be thrown like that.”

“It’s kinda hot, actually,” Soap smiles at you once he seems to be breathing properly again. Your face heats up. You look at Soap with wide eyes. He sits up and rubs the back of his neck. “What did they give ye?”

You, still hung up on the ‘hot’ thing, shrug. “I dunno.” Your mind is racing. You need to do something other than rest or eat. You want to throw Soap around some more, but you can’t stop thinking about his comment.

“Look,” Gaz motions towards you, looking at Soap. “She’s in shock. Ya told her that was hot, and now she’s in shock.”

“Same old bonnie,” Soap stands up and smiles at you.

“Uh, that was very cathartic…” You shift your weight, “can we continue this… 'training’?”

“Cathartic? Throwing him around eased your mind?” Gaz looks at you with wide eyes.

You nod at him. “Yeah, I think it’d also be fun if you both ran at me!” You smile wide.

“Yer outnumbered,” Soap places a hand on your shoulder, “that isn’ fair.”

You cross your arms. “Johnny,” You narrow your eyes at him. “They wanted to test my reflexes before you got me out of there. They improved a lot more than my strength, I just wanna test something out…”

The both of them look at each other. “If ya say so.” Gaz responds.

You excitedly nod back and get in your fighting stance once more. “Remember,” You point at them, “do not go easy on me! Please.” You smile at them. You want to know what you’re capable of.

Gaz and Soap don’t say a word. Instead, Gaz runs at you. It's your turn to grapple with him. While you’re fighting with Gaz, you can feel Soap running at you. You tense and throw Gaz to the floor and immediately direct your attention onto Soap. His arms wrap around your waist and you're sent sailing over him. He effortlessly suplexes you into the mat and you groan.

Soap and Gaz are both standing over you, looking down at you and smiling. “Was that payback?” You ask, catching your breath.

“We’re even now.” Soap puts his hand out towards you.

You don’t hesitate to grab it. Soap easily pulls you up and Gaz steadies you as you stand. As you’re thanking them, the doors of the training room opens. The three of you turn towards the door and you perk up.

“You’re finally here!” Your eyes hit Simon’s.

“What do you mean? ‘Finally’?” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I said 12:30… it’s now 12:29.”

“Oh, I thought you said 1200…” You feel embarrassed now.

“You’ve been here since then, waiting?”

“She’s been throwin’ us around.” Gaz rubs the back of his neck.

Simon approaches you and looks down at you, “Good, you’ve been warming up.”

Your stomach flips at how he says that. His tone… He has not come to just mess around, you already know that much. He walks past you and towards the end of the mat. Soap, Gaz, and you stare at him. He motions for Soap and Gaz to move, and they do. You blink at him. You quickly take your ass to the other end of the mat and wait for Simon’s next move.

Simon does not say a word. Instead, he rushes you. He easily grabs you, turns you around, and is holding you close to him, his arms keeping you from moving. You let you an awkward laugh, “What the fuck?” Simon doesn’t say a word. Instead he shoves you forward. You do not miss a step. You turn back to him and rush towards him.

“Suplex him!” Gaz shouts from the sidelines. Him and Soap seem just as curious as you about your strength.

You can’t help but wonder if you could… You want to try it. Simon is a big boy, and you want to test your new found strength. The both of you circle each other and your fingers are wiggling, you’re looking for an opening. You end up moving faster than Simon can register. You wind up behind him and grab his waist.

Simon does not let you get further than that. His elbow rears back, and you realize you are at just the right angle to get hit just a tad too late. Simon’s elbow slams into your face, harder than he had expected it to, and a loud pop echoes through the training room. You let go of him immediately. You fall to the floor, warmth covering your face. You let out a low, primal growl ready to fucking obliterate Simon. You want to maul him. Something in you is about to snap. Until suddenly his words replay in your head. ‘I trust you.’

Simon would never intentionally hurt you. And when you look up at Simon, his eyes tell you he truly did not mean to hit you so hard. Your eyes cut towards Soap and Gaz, who are watching you with anticipation.

You inhale sharply through your mouth and snap your nose back into place, stopping the bleeding pretty quickly. You sit up and Ghost puts his hand towards you. “Come on,” He sounds like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “You need to go to the med bay.”

Your bloody hand reaches for him and you grab it. You, in the spur of the moment, decide now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation and as you pull yourself up, kick your leg out. It slams into Simon’s shin and he’s doubling over. You slam your body into his and slide across the mat. You straddle Simon and you're holding him down. You’re breathing heavily and watching him.

The look in his eyes tells you he had not expected that. “Don’t let your guard down.” You heave out, a dull pain pulsating through your nose.

Simon sits there a moment. You move to get up and look at Soap and Gaz, who are watching with wide eyes. As you stand, a hand grabs you and you’re flipped. Your back slams into the floor and the wind is knocked out of you. You gasp. Your eyes shoot open and Simon is crouching above you, his large, rough hand wrapped around your throat. You watch him, unblinking. Not breathing.

Simon lowers himself to your level. His eyes stay on yours. You swallow hard and inhale shakily as his lips hover over your ear. “Don’t let your guard down.” He whispers in your ear. He stands up and walks off from you. “Get her to the med bay.”

You lie on the floor. The door opens and closes as Simon leaves. You, still laying down, look over at Soap and Gaz. You try to process everything that just happened. They rush over to you and Gaz crouches beside you. You look at him, eyes still wide, brain still processing. Neither of them seem to have expected that.

“Gaz,” Soap looks off towards the door, “I’m gonna check on Ghost…”

“Okay, I’ll get her checked out.” Gaz nods at Soap. He places a hand on your shoulder and you sit up. Gaz helps you stand and you look at all the blood on the ground and your hands. You know it’s covering your face. “Come on, love, let’s go.”

You're sitting in an exam room, mostly cleaned up. You look at the monitor across the room from you, your eyes stuck on it. The IV pole is beside it. “Are they gonna hook me up?” You ask Gaz, your eyes not leaving the monitor.

“No, love,” Gaz grips your shoulder. “You just broke your nose. They have no need to hook you up to that.”

The doctor walks in as he finishes his sentence. She's a woman. You feel yourself relaxing a little bit. Her lab coat isn't doing you any favors though. All medical coats must be the same, all you can think about is the facility. You exhale slowly and grab Gaz’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm Doctor Johnson, I'll be checking on you, okay?” You can't tell if she used to know you or not. You nod at her. “What happened?”

“Well, I assume it all started when I was taken–”

“No, not that far back,” Gaz smiles at you.

“Oh, my bad.” You look at the doctor. “I was training with Lt. Ghost and we got a little too rough. Thankfully, I don't get hurt like normal people.” You say, kicking your feet off of the side of the exam bed.

Her face contorts. “Okay–” She drags out the word. “Is that from your…” She pauses. She knows. You nod. “Okay, Price should have brought you to me sooner.” She looks at Gaz and back at you. “Is it okay if he's in here?”

“Of course! I actually prefer it… him staying.”

Dr. Johnson nods. “That's fine, just wanna make sure.” She smiles at you softly. “Can I check your nose?” When you say yes, she approaches you. Her gloved hands gently touch the bridge of your nose. You don't flinch at her touches. She gently pushes it and it pops. Again, you don't flinch. “You can't feel that?”

“I mean, I know you're touching me. But it doesn't hurt, no.” You shake your head.

She hums. She checks inside and then looks at you. “Your nose, you broke it before.” She states it as fact. She knows you have.

“Well, actually, yes. At the facility, they broke it. They hit me with the butt of an assault rifle.”

Gaz’s drop on your hand tightens. You can see his whole body tense, his Adam's apple bobs. You say it so nonchalantly. He doesn't like it.

The doctor swallows hard. She seems stunned. She quickly gathers her thoughts and inhales through her nose. “May I ask what tests they ran on you?”

“Yes you may,” you reply sweetly. “But I can't tell you what they were. They never told me. I just know I'm quite literally built to take those types of blows and then some.”

“We could help you figure it out.” She suggests it. She isn't pushing you.

“No.” It's the first thing that comes from your mouth. “I'm already stressed enough sitting right here in front of you. I will not be hooked up to monitors, or poked with needles.” You stand your ground.

“It's okay,” Gaz calms you down. “We don't have to do that. Not right now.”

The doctor purses her lips, looking at Gaz. “It'd be good to know those things. It could help you.” She sounds so calming, genuinely trying to keep you from freaking out.

You do want to know what's up with you. But you don't want to put yourself in distress just to figure it out. You sigh. “Not right now.” You shake your head. “I need time to think about it.”

She nods at you. “That's fine. Your nose is completely fine. You're free to leave, if you'd like.”

You have never gotten up so fast in your life. You drag Gaz out of the room with you. He doesn't stumble once, but he does wince, causing you to realize how tightly you're holding onto him. You mumble an apology and let him go once you're out of the exam room. You stop in the hall and take everything in. The lights are bright and everything smells so… sterile. It's almost haunting.

“We can get out of here.”

“That sounds good.” The both of you begin to leave. “Do you wanna train again?” You ask him, cocking your head.

Gaz makes a gutteral noise, laughing. “After all that, you still wanna train?”

“Yes, it was nice. It was… relieving my stress. I still have a bunch of pent up energy.”

“We'll find you something to take that out on.” He leads you out of the med bay.

“After sleeping the last couple of nights, I've never felt better I don't think. I must have stamina for days. I feel like I could go at it forever.”

“Oh?” Gaz looks over his shoulder at you. “Forever? And what are you going at exactly?” His brow cocks.

Your face heats up. “Not like– That's not– In a sense–” You stumble on your words. “Fuck.” You want to bury your head in your hands.

“Oh, fuck?” Gaz smirks at you. “Really? I didn't know you were like that.” He nudges you with his elbow.

“Kyle, I'm going to die. I think I'm literally going to pass away.” You look at him with a pout.

“Sorry, love, you aren't getting out that easy. I think I have an idea on how to get your energy out though. We could always try the gym, or the track? There's a new recruit who beat the best time and I think– I know you can beat him.” He turns and grabs your shoulders. “I think it'd be really funny if you beat him.”

You smirk at him. “I'm an enhanced individual now. And you want me to beat some poor rookie’s best time on the track? You want me to destroy him?”

“Yes. Gotta keep the new guys in check. Plus, we can check that stamina of yours.”

You smile, “Okay!” You put a finger up, “But, I'm not doing it to pumble some guy's record. I'm doing it because I'm testing myself.”

“Hey, that's fine with me.” Gaz grabs your hand again. “Come on!”

You let out a laugh as Gaz drags you outside and towards the track. When you get outside there are several people stretching, getting ready to run. Most of them are men.

“Hey,” you look at Gaz, “do you think they'll be emotionally distraught if I outrun them?”

You sure hope so.

“Only one to find out.”

Gaz walks over to the track with you. You approach the group and they all look at you. Your grip tightens on Gaz’s hand and you smile awkwardly at them. Most of the people are new recruits. You are positive they don't know about your… predicament. You introduce yourself as Ace.

“Just came to run a little bit, burn some energy!” You release Gaz’s hand.

They don't seem to think much about it. You walk towards the track and ready yourself. The sergeant at the sidelines readies the group and you examine them. You're trying to pick out the fastest one. The one you want to beat. Or one Gaz wants you to beat.

“Three–”

Everyone is getting ready to run. You look at Gaz.

“Two–”

He motions towards a tall, slender man. You lock on.

“One!”

You take off. All of you take off. You know you're supposed to pace yourself when running. You watch everyone doing that, except one person. The one Gaz pointed out to you. You can feel Gaz watching you. You have an urge to show off for him. The urge to impress him is suddenly very strong. You don't fight it.

You take off. Your legs push you forward and quickly run by the man. You give him a smile as you run by him. He doesn't falter. He picks up his speed. So you do the same.

Before you know it you are speeding around the track. The man left in the dust. You reach the end of the mile and smile at Gaz. He's the only one you see. You don't notice everyone stopped and staring. The sergeant clicks his timer.

“Ace,” the sergeant waves you over. “You just beat the fastest time by three minutes…”

“What. The. Fuck!?” A scream echoes from behind you. “How did you do that?”

“Peter, calm down.”

“What the fuck,” He repeats himself, quieter this time. “That’s not possible… I did track for years! And you come up here out of nowhere–” His hands are in his hair. His eye on the ground.

Oh, he’s mad. You watch him closely. Gaz steps in between you and Peter. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he does that. Peter looks distraught.

“How did you do that?”

You aren't sure how much you can tell him. So you shrug.

“You don't know?” His eyes widened. “Did you do track at all? Have you ever even run in your life? You aren't even out of breath!”

“I don't know–”

“What does that mean?! You don't know? How does someone not know that?”

He's so fragile. He storms off. You look at Gaz and he turns his head towards you.

“Did I do okay?” You can't help but ask.

“Okay?” He asks you. “Love, that was amazing! You set a new record!”

“I wasn't even doing the best I could–” Your face is hot.

Gaz pulls you into a hug. He's proud of you. You don't immediately hug back, causing Gaz to pull away. You pull him back to you, keeping from crushing him. The last time you hugged one of them —intentionally— was when you hugged Simon two days ago. You hadn't realized how much you needed physical contact since then.

Gaz hugs back, his hand rubbing your back. It seems to be just as therapeutic for him.

“Okay,” the sergeant speaks up, “how did you do that?”

Gaz pulls away from you, and you look at the sergeant. You shrug. “I'm just that good, I guess.”

The sergeant narrows his eyes. He doesn't get a chance to say anything about it before your new radio goes off.

“Ace,” Price comes over the radio. “meet me at the barracks immediately, over.”

You groan. “Copy, over.”

He knows something. You grab Gaz's hand and begin back towards base. Gaz doesn't argue with you taking him with you. He does seem confused. But he holds your hand with no complaints, following you to the barracks.

Taglist:

@moonyinthestars @dory-98 @otto-s-alskling @aeilani @klutzy-kay24 @sher-ni @infpt-zylith @eustassh @kaoyamamegami @zoexme @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes @waiting-so-long @mill7531

(tags are being weird again, i'm sorry if it didn't let me tag you... also think that's everyone? If i forgot you, just let me know I'll be sure to add you next chapter! I'm sorry im very forgetful and my list fills.. like it's missing someone)

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #poly!tf 141 #cod mw2

328 notes · View notes

strbymacaroon · 4 months

Text

Silent Love: Ch. 1 - New Roommate(s)

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter One

Master-List: Here!

Read on Ao3: Here!

.・゜゜・｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 14,003

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 13th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Monday

“He was so big.” Nobara shivers, a small smile gracing her lips. “I know he was totally texting other girls behind my back and shit, but that dick was dicking.” She points aggressively at nothing, merely trying to make her point stronger.

“Ew. Can you not tell me that right now? I’m eating.” You turn away from her, twisting your fork in your noodles, “I was gone for a week, and this is what you do in my absence. You should be ashamed of yourself.” You take a bit of your food, but immediately follow it with a sip of your Sprite. Adding a cough with a very suspicious word that rhymes with shut.

Nobara playfully glares at you, “No girl, you signed up for this when we became friends, you need to know.” Nobara leans her head down on the table, biting her bottom lip. “I’m telling you, I miss my stink-stink.” She pulls out her phone, “Maybe I should text him…”

“I don’t want to hear you crying about him anymore.” You scold, pointing your fork at her accusingly, “I can’t deal with your sobbing when I’m trying to go to bed because he broke your heart again.” It’s the reason you're moving out, actually.

That's being mean, it isn’t the reason why you’re moving out. But, it definitely is one of them.

A playful smirk slowly builds on Nobara's face, “It won’t be my emotions I'm crying over.” She laughs as you roll your eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough for brunch today.” You shut your Panda Express box closed, “Call me when you're no longer in heat so you can help me pack.” You grab your tote-bag, slinging it over your shoulders.

Nobara pouts, “Awh. I can’t believe you’re leaving me already.” She pushes herself away from the table, trailing behind you. “I mean, I’m not stopping you, but who would want to leave me?”

Obviously you do.

“Are you moving in with your parents in the meantime?” Nobara asks, tilting her head at you.

You shake your head, “No, I already have an apartment contract. Rooming with this random girl who goes to a different school.” You sigh, “It’s a bit far for my comfort, but the view to the city is gorgeous. Couldn’t pass it up.” You’re going to have to deal with taking public transportation from now on, but that’s a new risk you’re willing to take.

“Yeah, my new roommate is moving in on Monday.” Nobara sighs, “I don’t even know her name yet…”

“That can be a good thing, maybe you’ll make a new friend to tell you sex stories to.” You smile at her kindly.

“No, I swear if you cut me off after you move out I’ll go and kill you myself.” Nobara accuses, a finger pointing at you scoldingly. “You have to have lunch with me everyday now that I can’t see you.”

You may be mean, but you’re not that mean. “Of course not, I would never leave you. I wouldn’t give up your answers for Anatomy and Physiology.” You tap her nose, grabbing her hand and pulling her next to you. “Also your wallet for amazing food.”

“Good to know all I’m good for is homework answers and food.” Nobara groans, yet tightens her hand around yours nonetheless. “Next time I swear I’m going to let you figure things out on your own. No more puppy eyes when you don’t want to do the homework, or when you’re hungry.”

“That could be a good thing. Except the food part.” You mutter, an amused smile slowly building on your lips. “I’m sure my future patients will appreciate me learning the curriculum rather than copying someone else.”

“Agreed.” She leans her head on your shoulder, hugging your arm. “Hopefully you’ll be able to pass the final without me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pass life without you.”

You lean your head atop of her’s, sighing softly. “You’ll be okay, next thing you know your next roommate is going to be reenacting you when you tell her your sex stories.” Sure, Nobara is a hard person to get along with and can be quite brash, but you still enjoy her friendship nonetheless.

Nobara pauses for a moment in thought, “Wait? Do you want me to call my friends? They can also help you pack.” She smiles wickedly, “We can make them do the heavy stuff because we’re just..” She dramatically places the back of her hand to her forehead, “Weak little fraile women who can’t do anything without the fear of breaking a nail.”

You look at your nails, seeing that they were freshly done, a cute white set with small jews sparkling in the sun. “That is a genuine concern of mine, though.” You lower your hand again, being careful not to snag it on your bag.

“Even better.” Nobara smiles, tearing her hand away from you and pulling out her phone to open her messages. “Here, I’ll call them and ask for help.” She clicks someone’s contact before you can even answer.

“No, please don’t.” You tell her, watching as her finger hovers over the call button. “I don’t even know these people and I’m asking them to do stuff for me, that’s going to make me feel bad.” You press your lips together, “Maybe if they were my friends… but it’s okay, I’ll have everything done.”

Nobara waves you off, “Nonsense, it’s not like they have anything better to do.” She laughs, “Hell, they’re probably just laying around waiting for me to call them to give them something to do.” Her finger presses the call button, you immediately cringe.

The phone rings once, before the line is picked up. Nobara looks to the side, “You busy?” You can’t hear the other side, but she smiles and quickly adds, “No you’re not, stop being like that. Come help me pack after class.” She ends the call, shoving the phone into her back pocket.

“I hope they don’t come.” You whisper, only to pause, “Oh my god! Shit, I completely forgot I’m supposed to meet up with my professor right now!” You pull away from Nobara, panicking, “I’ll be right back, I’ll—I’ll meet you at our dorm!” You shove your food into her hands before quickly dashing off, your skirt bouncing with each step.

—

You’re out of breath, but slam the doors or your lecture hall open, catching the attention of the white haired professor. You’re quick to glance at the time, seeing it was almost two minutes past your professors office hours.

You pray to Satan's right ass cheek that your professor is still here.

Your professor passes you a quick glance, before singing, “Office hours ended two minutes ago.” He continues collecting the papers on his small desk and putting them in his bag. “But, I’ll humor you since I know you’re not the physical type.”

You’re aware of how hard you’re breathing from running, the words come out jagged as you drop your bag to the floor, “T–Touche..” You move to his desk, picking up a few papers and handing it to him, although it’s in your better interest. You lean your body on the desk.

“So…” He draws, blue eyes flickering from his desk to your face, “What did you need help with?” There's a hint of playfulness behind his voice, but it’s equally as mocking.

Ugh, you hate Professor Gojo. Okay… that’s a lie, he’s really nice to look at, but that’s all. “I’m sure you got my many emails and noticed my empty seat, but I couldn’t be here for a solid week.” You pass him a meek smile.

“Why were you out?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. You’ve always liked that about Gojo, how animated he is. It adds an interesting draw to his lectures. Seeing his hands flail dramatically around to emphasize any topic he was teaching.

You look to the side, instantly avoiding eye contact, your heart tugging at the thought. “Uhm… F-Family emergency..” You wave your hand, as if the topic was a fly you were trying to rid, “I was just wondering, what I missed? We do anything important?”

Professor Gojo places his hands on his lips, looking at the roof in thought. “Hm, I don’t think you missed too much.” He grabs his black sunglasses and pushes his hair back with them. “Just a month-long project that takes up thirty percent of your grade.”

Your eyes widen, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach while your jaw falls slack. “You’re joking.” You take a step back, it feels like you’re going to faint. “Oh my god. Please don’t say that.” Why didn’t Nobara tell you anything about this?!

Professor Gojo smiles, “Not lying, unfortunately.” He flips his sunglasses to fit comfortably on the bridge of his nose, “Your grade is totally tanked.” He tilts his head to the side, white silky strands falling with him. “Unless you can make up a week of lost time in a month.” He thinks, “It’s the thirteenth, so, it might be possible.”

A week worth of work, that doesn’t even include your other classes. Work you also need to catch up on. You quickly try to calculate the workload for the other classes, but immediately feel worse when you do. You’re sitting around twenty hours, maybe even twenty five hours of work.

It’s manageable, you’ve done it before your freshman year when something similar happened, it may be the reason why your life ends early, but definitely doable. Also something you definitely don’t want to do either.

For a brief second, you're tempted to pull down your shirt and ask him, ‘Is there anything I can do to fix my grade?’ Like those weird pornos or fanfics you and Nobara view to pass time, but you immediately think against it.

One, that isn’t going to work. This isn’t a fanfic.

Two, you’re pretty sure Gojo is gay, and married.

Although, if you were to tell Gojo that last one, you’re sure he would be offended. Yet, immediately follow it up with pictures of his gay partner. Why do you think that? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen it happen before. Like, seventy-six percent sure.

So, you cringe and ask, not seductively at all, “Is there anything I can do to fix my grade?” You’re sure Gojo is aware of your shiny GPA, something which many of your college professors attempt at tainting, but can’t with how determined you are to keep up your grades.

Gojo looks at the roof again, thinking for a moment. “I can assign you a different project, or I can just assign the original project to you.” He looks at his desk, pulling open a drawer and searching through the papers, “Which do you want to do?”

“Is this a final?” Your question is a bit blunt, but Gojo picks up it’s purely fear talking.

“This is the only thing I’m grading this before your final. Meaning, it’s due…” Gojo leans forward, looking at the calendar on his desk. “The eighth of December. And don’t worry, it’s a project just going in as an assessment grade.”

That’s right, finals are right around the corner, on the eleventh of December. Meaning, if you procrastinate on this project, or somehow fall behind, you’re sitting–at most–a weekend of studying for your finals.

God, this makes everything so much more stressful for you.

He wiggles his shoulders, “I wanted to give my students a break to study.” He cups his face, “Aren’t I an amazing person?”

No. Your eye twitches, “Yeah, such an amazing person.” You sigh, moving away from his desk and grabbing a chair. “What was the assignment?” You prop it right next to his chair, grabbing the staple of paper and skimming through the stipulations of the project.

“You’re popular, right?”

No one is popular in college, people just won’t shut up. “Define popular.” You grimace.

Gojo doesn't miss a beat when saying, “You have many friends, right?”

You don’t miss a beat when saying, “Define many?”

Gojo gives you an indescribable look, “What do you mean describe many? What else would that mean?”

You look to the side, “Well, if I came to lecture and ate five cheeseburgers, you’d be like, wow, that’s a lot of food. But, if I told you I only had five friends, you’d be like, wow, that’s not many friends.” You reason.

Gojo doesn’t look disappointed, but he’s not necessarily proud either. “Well, you.. don’t, right?” He passes you an empathetic look.

“Of course not.” Gojo sighs in relief, “I only have two.” Gojo ignores your remark and snatches the paper from you, ignoring your playful grin. He’s quick to explain the project, but with each stipulation you feel your stomach tying itself into knots.

Partner work?

Mental Evaluation?

A project where you pick a student to physically and mentally evaluate their day to day life for a week. Learning about their eating habits, working habits, study habits, and personal life. Then, write an essay about your studies and your personal evaluation on their health, life, and personal character. Gojo assured you that this paper should be told to the participant, however does not have to be shared with them, and will not be shared with anyone other than himself.

The project seems evasive… you wonder if it’s even allowed. Which seems right up Gojo’s alley. He was always in people’s business. But, a grade is a grade, and you're not going to complain. He’s one to assign something much harder to teach you a lesson about complaining.

Gojo grabs a pen and writes something down in your packet, “I’m already aware you want to become a physical therapist, so I’ll put that down as the hands on part of your project.” He doodles a small version of him worshiping the rubric, “However, since a handful of students already chose to do medical physical therapy, I’ll have you do sports physical therapy.”

You feel your stomach turn again. Sports? You haven’t played a sport, more or less exercised, since your highschool days. Even then, you weren’t in a physically demanding sport such as volleyball or soccer, you did marching band.

Which you could argue was extremely physically demanding, but you regress.

Gojo adds your name to a shared spreadsheet, adding your name to the sport physical therapy colom. A small shiver of relief soars over your body when you see the name Maki. Thank god. At least you know someone. You’re pretty sure you have her number, too.

Gojo looks at you again, resting on the palm of his hand. “It doesn't change much. Instead of choosing a random student, now you have to choose a student athlete for your project to be based off of. It’s simple, and shouldn't take more than a few weeks. For you at least.”

It’s nice for Gojo to have faith in you, but you don’t have it in yourself. “Thanks.” You take the paper from him, again looking through the packet again. It seems simple on paper, the most difficult part seems to be finding someone willing to be the participant, but you’re sure you can manage.

Hopefully.

Gojo waves you off, “I’ll see you in class.”

You’re already off, grabbing your bag and shoving your papers into it. Off in a rush to the next place demanding your attention. Which feels like overwhelmingly everything this past week.

—

You smile, your hands signing, “That’s cool, you are really good at drawing.” You use a pink crayon to continue your drawing, a simple picture of the young girl sitting across from you. She’s in elementary school and incredibly shy, often choosing to stay by your side when it’s playtime. You don’t mind.

She smiles at you, grabbing her sparkly notebook and writing a quick, “Thanks.” Before quickly pushing it away and continuing to color the sun an interesting shade of purple. You take a small mental note, the sun should be purple, it’s pretty.

You continue to braid her long hair, being careful not to tug too hard and accidentally mess up her artwork. You use a hair tie with a pink bow to tie it off, making sure all the strands are secure before pulling two small strands to frame her face.

You move to the left of her, telling her, “Now we are matching.” She awkwardly giggles at that.

“Where’s the president?”

Your head whips around, looking for whoever called you. You immediately know from the way they’re addressing you, it’s a parent. You place a hand on the girl's back, standing up and making your way to the impatient parent.

You pass her a kind smile, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for my child.” She seethes at you, her eyes moving up and down your frame, “Is that even appropriate for working with children? Do they pay you to dance on a pole and dress like a–”

“I’m not getting paid.” You tell her, holding your hands behind your back, “I’m the president of the ASL club here, we teach people about ASL and the language, we also volunteer here when the School of Deaf Children have a small field trip to our school.” You smile brighter, “I don’t get paid to do anything.” You reiterate.

She gives you a look between disgust and jealousy, which you can’t blame her. Not everyone can be intelligent and as beautiful as you. “What’s your child’s name? I can grab them for you.” You call for a member of the club, telling them to bring a clipboard with the sign out sheet.

When they do, you give the items to the mother and search for her son. You click your foot on the floor three times, the vibrations sending a silent call for the boy. He turns his head and looks at you, watching as you point behind you at his mother. He sighs and gathers his things.

You laugh and move back to the mother, taking the clipboard and skimming over the information she added. You ignore how she misspelled his name, actually, that’s a lie, you erased it and fixed her mistake. You do ignore the nasty glare she gives you.

“He always enjoys being here with us,” You watch as the little boy tugs his things to you, feet dragging on the floor dramatically. You place a hand on his head, “I’ll see you on the next field trip.”

She scowls at you, but softens her gaze on her child, asking him about his day. There’s a genuine smile on her face while she talks to her child, so you don’t let her words get to you.

“Don’t know how you do it.” Her voice is sharp, pulling you to look at her. “Especially after meeting with Gojo, you’re a trooper.” There’s a hint of playfulness, although you can barely pick up on it due to her RBF.

You laugh dryly, “Oh, I–I don’t know, I’m just…”

“Your flask is sticking out of your pocket.” Maki points at your torso, her face as emotionless as ever.

Your eyes widen with fear, looking down at your torso only to notice you don’t have pockets. You pass her a hard glare, “Ha ha. Very funny.” You lean your weight on one of your legs, “I would be dead if found with something like that, especially here.” You gesture to the children behind you.

Maki laughs, “So..” She starts, “I’m sure you’ve finally gotten the project.”

You groan, looking back at the club working with the kids. “Ugh, yeah.” You roll your eyes, “I don’t know what’s worse, that fact it’s thirty percent of my grade, or I have to humiliate myself to a random athlete to pass it.” You sigh.

Maki’s eyes light up for a moment, “Wait, you’re also doing athletes? I thought you would be in “physical therapy” where you can just choose random friends.” She tilts her head, “Isn’t that what you’re kinda known for?”

You mush your eyebrows together, “Wait, what do you mean?... Known for?” You pause, “Wait, don’t tell me that how people know me?..”

Maki laughs, before mockingly saying, “Oh, wait? Is that the girl who wants to become a physical therapist? You think she has the answers?” She crosses her hands over her chest, “Something someone has said to me while doing work.”

You pout, “Why can’t I be known for how cute I dress, or something?” Why couldn't you be known as that mysterious hot girl in lecture? “Whatever, I don’t care…” You do care, you care a lot. “But, no yeah, Gojo said there wasn’t any room, so he put me in the physical therapy for athletes slot.”

Maki cringes, “Rough. But I wouldn’t worry, it’s just a few people in our class.” You let out a sigh of relief. “You know what’s rougher? Actually finding the athlete, luckily my little brother is one so I got a free pass.” She laughs, cupping her mouth, “And I don’t have to embarrass myself following a random boy like a puppy.”

You feel your eyes widen, “Shit, we really have to follow them around?” You sigh, “I don’t even know any athletes, I don’t even know where to start…” You look at one of the kids running around, making sure to keep an eye on them in case they trip. “I feel like I’m going to embarrass myself by asking a random one to help me.”

“I think Gojo is plotting.” Maki says, “He’s bored and wants something exciting to happen, so he decided to make this stupid project where we’re forced to be close to someone twenty-four-seven.”

You laugh, a decently sized crowd passing behind you and Maki. “Sounds like Gojo.” You cup your mouth, as if anyone were interested in your conversation and whisper, “I heard he assigned a boy and a girl together back when he first started teaching and now they’re married working on campus.”

“Oh yeah, have the girl’s lecture class.” Maki looks at the sky, “Gojo fiends for drama, but we all know this.” She turns over her shoulder, wondering about the loud and obnoxious conversation behind her, only to notice the large crowd of boys. She softly groans in annoyance.

You quickly eye them alongside her.

“Football boys,” She mutters, clearly agitated. “Hate them all, so glad my brother isn’t one of them.”

“Should I ask one of them to do my project?” You tilt your head, watching as they slowly move away from you, their loud chatter getting more distant. “Maybe if I pull down my shirt enough someone will say yes.”

Maki scoffs a laugh, “Yeah. That could definitely work.” She looks back at the group, her happy expression falling for a moment, “Just don’t get the pink haired one. He’s a dick.”

Your eyes snap back to the group, you didn’t even notice a pink haired guy, “What, why?” You don’t recognize him, which means you don’t have any classes with him.

“Some asshole.” Maki scowls, turning back to look at you. If looks could kill, the guy would be six feet under. “He’s a football player who doesn’t know shit about the real world, got everything handed to him while growing up.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he talks about it in class.” She shakes her head, “You should hear him, so full of himself, and won’t shut the fuck up.” She pivots a foot behind the other, “He’s rude, too. The only people he’s somewhat nice to, are his professors.”

You laugh, “That’s how it is sometimes, Maki.” You look back at him, he’s tall and built, “Besides…” You smile at Maki’s disgusted face, knowing what you’re going to say. “If he’s hot, he could do whatever he wants for me and I’d thank him.”

“You’re hanging around Nobara too much.” Maki turns on her heel, “Whatever, if you choose him as a partner and fail, I’ll be the first one to tell you..” She smiles over her shoulder, “I told you so.”

You’re not going to, but you say, “I doubt it.” You turn back to the kids, wanting to put your full attention on them again, but pause. Your eyes travel to look back at the man, skimming over his body again.

Maybe you can die on this hill, but assholes are hot.

Then again, you don’t know any assholes in your life, so you can totally be delusional and be reading too many fanfics for your own good. But, Nobara does, and she loves her asshole, you think. So, they can’t be that bad, especially if they look that good.

Whatever. You have more important things to obsess about.

—

You’re about to enter your room, when the door swings open, slamming into your face. You whimper, stumbling backwards into the wall behind you. Both your hands cupping your face in pain, your cute bag falling to the floor.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry.” A pair of hands make their way to your shoulders, “I didn’t think anyone would–holy shit, Nobara!” The person shouts, “I accidentally killed someone with the door!” Their voice is boyish, but in some weird way that is what makes it charming.

Someone else rounds the corner, your guess is that it’s Nobara. “You killed her?” She pushes the boy away from you, her hands wrapping around your shoulders as she crams you in her neck, “Poor thing’s had a rough day, and this is what you welcome her home to?!”

“I’m so sorry!” The boy responds, he sounds very ashamed.

“Keep it down, it’s three, everyone’s trying to nap right now.” Another boyish voice perks up, he sounds more monotone than the first one. As if he also had woken from a nap, “Try bringing the body inside before panicking.”

“Good idea, Megumi.” You feel a pair of hands grab your waist and hoist you up, throwing you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don’t know if you should be offended, or flattered. “We’ll check for a pulse when we’re inside.”

Nobara's voice pops up again, “Wait! Be careful of her skirt! You’re going to flash people!” She scolds, and you pray to everything that is almighty that there isn’t anyone in the dorm hall. “Megumi, you grab her bag!”

There’s no way this is happening. You move one of your hands to press on the fabric of your skirt, pressing it against the high of your thighs. “I got it.” You tell her while the man carries you into the room, Nobara shutting the door behind the two of you.

You take this time to finally look at the other man in your room, not the one carrying you, just to specify. The man has jet black hair, part of you wonders if it’s dyed, and pale skin. His eyes look a bit lifeless, but you can’t blame him, it is college after all. If you can remember correctly, the man holding you like a potato-sack called him Megumi.

You’re dropped on your bed, your hair fluttering around your head. For a moment, you feel like time has stopped, the boy in front of you smiling widely. You want to laugh at the irony, a part of you thinks, what a small world? Then, you remember you attend a college, and the only people who walk around at that college are the students who attend that college.

Wow, who would’ve thought, right?

So, the first thing that leaves your lips is, “I like your hair.” To give yourself some credit, it’s what you found the most interesting part of his backside.

The boy tilts his head, his hand moving to run it through his pink tufts, “Thanks.” He leans on the bed next to you, he’s still looking at you as he says, “I like you.” He smiles again, grabbing one of Nobara’s pillows, “You’re light, by the way.”

Flattered. That, or he’s just freakishly strong, which seems more plausible. Still, his words strike a place in your chest, either that or you really need to talk to more people. You turn to Nobara, “I like him, why haven’t you invited him to our dorm before?”

Nobara gives you a look, and that answers your question. She juts her thumb at the boy sitting next to you, “Yuuji’s been the one taking your stuff to my car.” She cocks her head at the other boy in the room, he’s enamored by something on his phone. “Megumi’s been actually packing your things.” She winks, “He ended up only using like three–four boxes with his packing skills.”

Your face lights up, “Really? That’s awesome!” That means you can return the other six you bought from Home Depot for way more than you should’ve. “Thanks, you just saved me like twenty bucks.”

Megumi gives you a thumbs up, before looking back at his phone. Now that you’re really looking at him, he looks really familiar, you just can’t put your finger on it. You could swear you’ve seen that RBF somewhere before…

Nobara furrows her eyebrows, marching over to Megumi and grabbing his face, “Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She puts her hand on the back of his head, forcing him into a subtle bow. “When I introduce you to someone, actually look at them, jerk!”

Megumi seems to pout almost, giving into Nobara’s demands and bowing, giving you a half-hearted, “I’m Megumi Fushiguro, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Even when Nobara removes her hand, he stays in that position.

You find it a bit cute.

“Wait, we’re saying our full name?” Yuuji tilts his head so he’s practically nose to nose with your face, “I’m Yuuji Itadori, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He looks back at Nobara, “She doesn’t shut up about you.”

A pillow hits him directly in the face, and Yuuji dramatically falls with it. Acting if he had gotten shot with a gun. Nobara points her nose up, “What you get for running your mouth, I-ta-dor-i.” She says his name with so much conviction, you were almost offended by it.

Yuuji lays on the bed, his side touching the small of your back, “When will my suffering end, I slave away putting heavy boxes in your car, only for you to stab me in the back like this.” Yuuji grabs the back of your shirt, “You would never do this to me, right?” He sniffles, his hands crawling to hold your torso in a hug. “You would always have my back, right?!”

You snicker, one of your hands moving to cup both of his. You give him a somber look, shaking your head, “No. I would never do this to you, Yuuji.” You hold his hands tighter, “Absolutely never.” You whisper.

Yuuji blinks a few times, letting his head fall on the bed with a soft thud. “The light?... I–I see the light, I don’t want to–I don’t want to go.”

You stifle a laugh, turning your body to face him, “No! Don’t leave me!” You throw yourself over Yuuji, “I can’t do this without you!” You have no clue what “this,” even is. “I can’t lose you, too!” You’ve never lost anyone before, well.. that’s if you don’t count the plushly you lost at the mall one time.

Yuuji falls slack against the bed, sticking his tongue out and mumbling, the most realistic death sound of, “Bleh!” You finally burst out in laughter, pulling away from Yuuji to clutch onto your stomach.

Yuuji quickly props his head up on his hand, “Anyway, I’ve been dying. When are we going out to eat, Nobara?” He passes Nobara a careless smile, as if he hadn’t put on the most cringeworthy act with you as his co-actor.

Nobara gives him an indescribable look, one that borderlines anger and disbelief.

Megumi blinks a few times, “Well, at least they get along just fine.” He gives the two of you a small applause. Which the two of you deeply appreciate.

Nobara blinks alongside him, whispering, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk this much when she’s with me.” She doesn’t know to be offended, or weirdly proud that you’re finally talking to people. Albeit, she would’ve preferred if you became more social outside the comfort of your bedroom, but hey, baby steps.

You turn over your shoulder, peering at Yuuji again. “I can order some pizza, and when me and Nobara go to my new apartment, you can pick it up and bring it over.” You grab a piece of your hair from his back, you’re guessing it came off when he carried you.

Yuuji blinks at you with a bit of sparkle in his eyes, “I think you’re my new favorite person.”

“Are we friends now?”

“Best friends.” Yuuji clarifies with full seriousness.

You loudly laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth as you turn away from Yuuji. “Oh my god, he’s so fun.” You let yourself fall on his back, laying down while looking at the ceiling.

You feel your body collapse for a moment, the aching and stress from the day crashing down on you. Sure, there’s a human below you, but you could be on a bed of pins and still find some form of relief by laying down.

Like Megumi said earlier; It’s three, everyone is taking a nap right now. That should be you right now, sleeping on your uncomfortable-comfortable college assigned bed alongside your collection of stuffed animals you won from an arcade, and the dozens of blankets you bought from Target with the mindset of: One more couldn’t hurt.

“If you want, I can move?” Yuuji asks.

“No.” You tap his back a few times, as if you were a Dad patting a massive dog. “I’m already comfy. I wanna’ take a nap.” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, and in the moment it feels like heaven. You really need a nap.

Yuuji nods with conviction, “Okay, I won’t move.” He quite literally freezes, you’re sure he’s not even breathing from how still he is.

Your sentence breaks in cracks of laughter as you say, “You can breathe, babe.”

Yuuji clearly lets out a long sigh. You laugh again.

You want to lay like this forever, but you have an apartment waiting for your arrival. Besides, you’re going to feel even better when you’re laying down in your new bed in your new room. Suddenly, you’re bubbling with energy.

You collect yourself before pushing yourself off the bed, reaching for your bag, “Here, I’ll go check I have everything in your car and order the pizza.” You turn to Yuuji, “I can tell you when to pick up.”

Yuuji nods, giving you a thumbs up.

Nobara follows after you, grabbing her keys. Yet, before she leaves the room, she points at both of the boys and says, “Be good.” Then, shuts the door behind her with a smile. “Now, let’s hope to come back to a room with two living men.”

You tilt your head to the side, “Have they tried to kill each other before…?”

Nobara looks to the side thinking, “They have. A good handful of times, actually.” She laughs, thinking about the two boy’s bickering at times, “Yuuji can be something else, and Megumi needs his time alone to function. Sometimes, it’s like trying to make peace between a dog and a cat.”

“Impossible?” You ask with a smile.

“Exactly.”

You give a humorous laugh, “Is Yuuji the dog?”

“A big dog.”

You laugh again, but your conversation with Maki pops into your head again. This time, you voice your thoughts, “I like Yuuji, he’s fun. Cute, too.” Nobara shivers, as if the thought of Yuuji being cute physically revolted her. “But, Maki said she doesn’t like him.”

Nobara thinks for a moment, “Maki’s the junior in our class right?” You nod in confirmation, Nobara stays silent for a moment, still thinking. “Weird. I didn’t know she knew Yuuji. To be honest, I thought she was the type of person to hate underclassmen.”

You can’t disagree with her, “Huh. She really does give that vibe?”

“We all have our personal vendettas.” Nobara shrugs, looking at the sky. It’s starting to get dark, the sky blending into hot colors. “I know Megumi doesn’t like Yuuji, but he won’t say that out loud, so who knows?”

“That can’t be true.” You shake your head, “They look like they get along.”

“They should, or that means freshman year had to be hell for them…” Nobara presses her lips together, “Now that I think about it, I don’t even know if he likes me…” She shrugs again, a cheeky smile building on her lips “But everyone loves me, so I doubt that.”

“Of course, who wouldn’t love you.” You internally roll your eyes, “No, but seriously. Yuuji seems kind of cool. I just don’t understand why she would say that.” You smile to yourself, “He’s strong, has nice hair, is nice to look at, and he’s really nice. I just don’t understand why she would call him an asshole.”

“Woah, ew. Don’t say that about my brother, that makes me want to barf.” Nobara pretends to gag, grabbing onto her stomach.

Your eyes widen in surprise, “You guys are related?!”

“No.” She snickers to herself.

When the two of you reach the parking lot, she reaches for her keys and unlocks her car from the short distance. Popping open the trunk with her keys, and the only thing you can see is the organized boxes filling her car to the brim.

You quickly check over all the boxes. Eyeing over everything packed, just to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. “Damn, you were right about Fusiguro, these boxes are packed.” A part of you wants to pay him, but you by no means have the money. You almost didn’t have the money to pay for the boxes.

You sit on the ledge of the trunk, picking your phone from your bag. “I swear, I’m going to get the greasiest, cheesiest, diabeaty causing pizza ever for you guys.” You turn on your phone and immediately notice the text message and missed call from your new roommate.

Nobara cups her face, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “Awh! Babe, you didn’t have to, that’s so romantic.” She wiggles her shoulders like a love-sick teenager.

You unlock your phone, checking the message. “You know I take care of my babygir—“ You blink a few times, your words dying. A horrible pit in your stomach twisting and turning uncontrollably, practically eating you alive. Your heart is dropping uncomfortably.

Nobara notices your sudden mood change, and is quick to voice on it. “Hey, are you okay?” She looks at your hands, trying to see what could upset you. “If you want I can buy the pizza?…”

You quickly turn off your phone, placing it face down on your lap and letting out a long sigh. You silent for a moment, your hands cupping your face as you whisper, “Shit.” You feel like crying, but you also feel like screaming in rage.

“Wait, what happened?”

“My—“ You groan, clearly annoyed, “Fuck, my roommate just said the room isn’t mine anymore.” You lean back on the boxes, resting your weight on it. You’re trying to form the words, but there’s so much going on in your head you don’t think you’re making sense. “She said I can’t come anymore.”

Nobara furrows your eyebrows, “Wait, what?” She tilts her head to the sides, “What do you mean you can come anymore?”

For some reason, her question pisses you off, and you grab your phone. “Here.” Your voice is stern, clearly annoyed, “Read.” You flip the screen to her, showing the long paragraph you received from your roomma– ex-roommate.

Nobara eyes skim over the screen, quickly trying to take in all the information before looking at you with an empathetic face. “Oh my–is this even allowed? Don’t you have to sign a contract to move in with them?” She sits down next to you, “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to break the binding if you already signed the papers.”

You feel a bit stupid about your answers, and for some odd reason that pisses you off. “I–” You sigh, leaning your head back on the boxes. “I didn’t sign anything just yet, she just said I could move in today, and we’ll fill out the papers when I’m there.”

Nobara blinks a few times, “Oh.” Is all she says. She doesn’t know exactly what to tell you, but she knows enough not to tell you how wrong you are. You’re clearly upset as it is, and she doesn’t want to add fuel to that fire. You’re already stressed as it is, so she says, “Uhm, do you want me to help you unpack?...”

You shake your head, “No.” You can’t unpack, Nobara is quite literally having a new roommate move in within this week. “Okay, no, it’s fine. I’ll figure this out.” You have a small idea of what you can do in the meantime.

“Figure this out?” Nobara gives you a look, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Babe, that’s something you say when you realize you have a test next class, not when you don’t have a place to stay.”

You sigh deeply, “I know.” Still, you’re trying to figure out what you can do in this situation. Your parents are out of the picture, not literally, they’re just too far, and you can’t stay with Nobara. You can try and move into a hotel, and pray your parents are willing to send you a bit more cash while you desperately try to find a new place to live.

You nod to yourself, coming to a decision. “Okay, I think I’m just going to stay at a hotel in the meantime.” You open the safari app, and quickly search for hotels in your area.

Nobara pulls you to your feet, shutting the trunk closed and locking her car again. “Okay, well my new roommate doesn’t come until Wednesday, so you're free to stay the night until she comes. Technically it’s still your room.” She grabs your bag, tugging you along with her as you desperately search for a place to stay.

—

“The pizza says it’s going to be ready at five.” You think that’s a suspiciously long time for a pizza to get ready, but don’t question it too much. It just gives you more time to find a place to stay. “You can pick it up and bring it here if you want, Yuuji.”

Yuuji blinks at you, “Are we no longer allowed at your apartment?” He sounds hurt in a way, but you’re a bit too embarrassed to tell him the truth of the situation.

You thickly swallow, “Uh, well…”

“Roommate kicked her off the lease.” Nobara says without batting an eye, “I told her to contact a lawyer, but we all know we’re too broke for that. Unless someone wants to pitch in some money.” She looks at you and passes a discreet wink.

You deeply appreciate her and her ability to read your thoughts.

Megumi shakes his head, “I can call my Da–” He pauses, clearing his throat, “I can call Gojo and ask for some money.” He looks away, averting his attention at a wall. It could be the bad lighting, but it looks as if his ears are red.

You have to reign in what Megumi just said, but you aren’t given the time when Nobara jumps into the conversation. “No. She doesn’t like Gojo, can’t imagine how she’d feel if she borrowed money from him.”

Megumi looks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t like Gojo?”

“Uh…” You give him an awkward smile, scratching your cheek lightly. “Not really…?”

Megumi nods, his lips pulling into a subtle upside down smile. It looks almost approving, “Me neither.” You didn't know you could end up liking someone with just a simple phrase, but here we are.

Yuuji pulls on your sleeve, drawing your attention back to him. “So, what are you going to do?” He looks at you with puppy eyes, as if he were in the same boat as you.

You pass him a somber smile. “I don’t know, I think I’m just going to crash at some random hotel in the meantime.” You shrug, trying to brush off the topic, but the pit in your stomach doesn’t go away. “Hope for the best, you know?”

Yuuji practically lights up at that news, he quickly grabs your hands and tugs you into him. “Wait! Does that mean you’re homeless now?!” He seems excited about that, and you wonder if Maki was right about him being an asshole.

You awkwardly laugh, your smiling faltering, “Uhm, yeah?…” You blink a few times, looking at your hands, then looking back at his face. You quickly pass Megumi and Nobara a worried face, as if you’re trying to say, please help me.

“Do you want to live with me?!”

No.

Your lips part, a small noise escaping your throat, but no real words really leaving. Yuuji is pretty fun to be around, but you don’t think moving in with someone you just met is a good idea. Besides, what if the hotel is a better option than the random house he’s offering you to live in. You don’t know how tidy… or dirty his house is, and you can’t just go to his house, scope out the area and be like, ‘Actually, I think I’m going to pass.’

It’s rude and puts you in a really awkward situation, a situation you really don’t want to put yourself in. Then again, you really don’t have the money to stay in a hotel, anything you could possibly have in your bank account will be drained, quickly.

You don’t have the money, or the mindset to drain your bank account. In fact, if the number ‘ZERO’ hits your bank account, your life would’ve been long done awhile ago. There’s no way you’re living to see your personal downfall.

You press your lips together in thought, “Uh?..” You look at Nobara, and she doesn’t seem to know what to say either. “Are you okay with that?—How much are you going to be charging me?” You have to ask the real question, then you can worry about being a good person and asking about Yuuji’s feelings.

“Hm?” He blinks a few times, then quickly looks at Megumi, “I didn’t charge my ex when she lived with me. How much do you normally charge your roommates?” It seems like a genuine question, and Maki barks at the back of your head, ‘I told you!’

You softly pull your hands away from Yuuji, blinking at him in confusion. “Wait, do you not pay for your apartment?” You tilt your head at him, blinking in confusion.

“I don’t.” He places his hand on the back of his head, looking at Megumi with something you can’t quite decipher. “My–” He pauses, making a face at Megumi, “My roommate does.” His eyes perk at that, almost as if it were a revelation. “That’s right, I have a roommate.”

“So, I’ll be living with two guys?” Your eyes bounce back from Yuuji and Megumi, you can’t say excitement is what you’re feeling right now. No, it’s more desperation and dejection.

“Mhm!” He pulls you close to his side, and you’re now starting to realize how touchy Yuuji is, but you don’t really mind. “It won’t be that bad, you’ll have your own room and there’s a kitchen.” He looks around the small dorm, “Which I think is already much better than the dorms…”

You don’t… know. “I don’t know. I don’t want to bother you, and I don’t know if I’m going to have enough money..”

Yuuji shakes his head, “You can just stay for a month or two, just until you can find your own place.” He places his head on your shoulder, giving you some of the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. “And I won’t even charge you.”

“Deal.” Not even a second thought.

A smile splits your face, excitement blooming in your chest. A free place to live, your own room, and a kitchen? Maybe you could be in danger by living with two men you just met today, but it’s only for a month or two. Free housing is free housing.

Yuuji jumps up, clearly happy by the thought of living with you. “Hooray! Let’s go!” Yuuji grabs your hand again, pulling you harshly behind him. “I’ll help you unpack and everything.”

You feel a small blush dust your cheeks, definitely a big puppy. It’s really cute.

—

Yuuji’s house is so nice.

Your eyes are sparkling at the sight, the living room, the kitchen, your bathroom, and your bedroom. Everything is decorated so nicely and smells like heaven, as if someone has just cleaned the room.

You turn to Yuuji, hands holding each other, “Oh my gosh, your place is amazing! This is so nice!” You move to the couch, sitting down on it, practically melting into the seats. “This is heaven Yuuji, absolute heaven.”

Yuuji wobbles over to you, flopping over your thighs and stretching over the couch. He’s a bit sweaty from moving all your boxes to your room, and clearly exhausted, but you don’t at all mind. You still move your hands to his head and run your fingers through his pink tufts.

“You did such a good job, Yuuji!” You practically beaming in your seat, smiling with a bit too much enthusiasm. ”You installed that lock on my door too, right?” You push his hair out of his face when he twists his head to try and look at you.

Yuuji nods tiredly, moaning out an exhausted, “Mhm.”

“Awh! Thank you so much, that means so much to me!” You look to the side, watching as Nobara appears from the hall and passes you a thumbs up. A small confirmation of Yuuji’s words. “If you want, you can go grab the pizza now, I’m pretty sure it’ll be ready by now.”

Yuuji springs out of your lap, energy regained at the thought of food. “Pizza!” He is quick to grab Nobara, pulling her out the door and singing, “Pizza, pizza, pizza, chow-down!” You think it’s adorable.

Megumi walks out of the hall, looking at Yuuji, then looking back at you. He’s silent for a moment, before softly asking, “Do you want me to stay?”

You’re a bit shocked by his question, “Uhm..?” To be completely honest with yourself, it would be nice to have the house to yourself for a moment. That way you can try and get a hold of the layout without the judging eyes of your new friends. You’ve also been dying to take a shower in a room without anyone else showering. So, you shake your head politely, “No thank you, it’s okay. I need a moment to myself.”

Megumi furrows his eyebrows ever so slightly, tilting his head, “Are you sure?” He looks at the hallway, then back to you, “I can stay, it won’t bother me.” He shrugs, but his voice has a hint of care to it, as if he’s trying to put his words in the most friendly way possible.

You shake your head again, “It’s okay, I’m just going to shower.” Your eyes light up for a moment, “Wait, actually, I have a question.” You push yourself off the couch, moving to stand at the entrance of the hallway. Megumi moves after you. “Which room is which.”

Megumi points at the closet door on the right, “That’s your restroom.” He points at the door at the end of the hallway to the left, “Across from your restroom is your room.” He looks back at you, nodding to see if you understood the information.

You flash him a smile and nod back, “Perfect, thanks for showing me.”

Megumi nods, turning on his heel and waving you off. Nobara at the door frame, waiting for him to catch up. She cups her mouth, “We’ll be back in a few, get unpacked in the meantime.” She blows you a kiss and closes the door behind her.

You roll your eyes and move to your room, pushing open the door and really observing the place. If you can recall correctly, this room once belonged to Yuuji’s ex-girlfriend, which is a bit obvious. There’s a hint of a feminine touch to the furniture and leftover decorations. The window is one of the biggest indicators to such, the curtains being a bit flowy and soft.

The bed is another big indicator. The mattress has been stripped of anything that seems comforting, but the bed frame holds some form of cute touch. It’s white with silver jewels bedding into the leather, creating a patterned ridge.

The floor is bare, but you don’t mind, you made sure to tell Nobara to pack your pink fluffy rug. However, it has small specks of nail polish. The drawers match the bed quite well, all being white. The desk–or vanity–is something you don’t understand why it would be left behind. It’s gorgeous. There’s even a mirror strapped to the wall a bit above it, a button in the bottom middle to turn on its LED lights.

You nod to yourself, not bad.

Sometimes, life is all about risk, and you clearly struck gold with this leap of faith. A cute room, a nice house, and you don’t have to pay rent yet? Could life get any better?

You squeal to yourself, moving to your boxes and opening the one with your skin care products, hair cleaning products, face cleaning products, shaving products… Honestly, everything you couldn’t use back in the dorms. You’re about to finally care for your skin, mind, and body.

You're quick to grab your sleeping garments, but find it a bit hard to hold everything so you grab your towel and throw all your things inside, then grab the corners and pull them up. Making a make-shift sack and throwing it over your shoulder.

Life can indeed, get better.

Especially when you can take a shower alone.

You’re giddy making your way to the bathroom, opening the door and closing it behind you. You’re picking your favorite at home, or headphone only playlist, and blasting it on speaker. Picking out from the many girly shampoo scents and propping them in the shower as you swing your hips to the beat of the music.

You catch a glimpse of the shampoos already in the shower. They’re a bit… They look exotic to put it simply. A brand you’ve never seen before, in fact, the amount of body care looks a bit larger than your own. You feel a bit embarrassed placing your Bath and Body Works body scrub, but they smell so good.

Even now, your sore bare body underneath the steaming hot water, you’re no longer embarrassed. Your tense muscles relax underneath the jets of the water. Just enjoying your sweet sweet life living in a real house and not a small dorm. You raise your face to the water, rubbing out your face wash, “Fuck, I needed this.”

You flinch when the sound of louder music plays over your own, your eyes snap to the door. You push your hair out of your face and softly sigh. Looks like your friends are back already, and as much as you want to stay in the warm shower, you’re really hungry.

You turn off the water and reach for your pink towel, wrapping it around your body and placing the rest of your face care products on the counter of the sink. It’s a bit of a shame, music you’re unfamiliar with drowning out your favorite–private–playlist.

You eye the room again, only to furrow your eyebrows. Wait… You feel a bit of dread enter your body, looking around the room with a bit more conviction.

Oh no, oh no no no no no…

Where are your clothes?! You could’ve sworn you put them in your makeshift sack with everything else–wait, you internally groan, no you didn’t. You placed everything back on your bed and forgot to put it back in your towel. Whatever, it’s fine you’ll just quickly run to your room and grab some clothes, then join your friends for food.

You grab your phone and reach for the door, peeling it open and peaking your head out. But, you are a bit disappointed at the lack of pizza filling the air, and laughter. The only thing getting louder is the music.

“Hm.” You blink a few times and stand on the tips of your toes, the cold floor sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine as you step onto cold tiles. Megumi’s words echo in your head, ‘The room across the restroom.’ So, as you walk forward and put your hand on the dorm knob, you feel a bit of panic resonate with you as it doesn't open.

“Shit, did I lock it?” You cringe at yourself. Oh my god, that’s a horrible way to start off living with Yuuji. Getting locked out of your room, naked. For some reason, that thought makes you shake the door knob with more desperation.

You tug your hand back when the door knob… jiggles back! Have the door knobs evolved?!

You flinch when the lights of the room flashes on you, the door slamming open.

Your eyes widen, your jaw dropping subtly.

The tall man looks you up and down, his forearm pressing against the frame of the door. His face is one that can only be described as disgust and disdain. In fact, he’s so fucking tall, he is quite literally looking down at you.

You feel so small.

And, he’s completely shirtless, yet his arms are decorated in a tattoo that seems to stretch from his arms to his torso, chest, then to his face. The only thing giving him some form of modesty being the gray sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips. You can see his v-line and the veins that lead to his…

You snap your eyes back to his face, feeling your burn up, when your eyebrows furrow. The interesting color of his hair is pulling your attention.

Wait a minute…

You narrow your eyes, taking a step back in shock. Another puddle of water pulling to the ground with each step, the bangs that frame your face sprinkling your shoulders with water droplets.

No way, no way.

An unsure noise leaves your throat, a mix between a whimper and soft cry. “Uh… Y-Yuuji…?” You tighten your hand around your towel, and that realization hits you like a fucking bus. You’re naked. You’re wearing nothing but a towel in front of Yuuji, and he looks absolutely disgusted by you.

But…You know it’s not Yuuji, it can’t be. Yuuji is a massive puppy, expressive and vibrant, naturally pulling everyone into his circle. He would never even think to look at someone the way this man is looking at you. He's touchy and a bit oblivious, but that’s part of his charm! The Yuuji in front of you is…?

His hair is a bit different, less saturated and messy. His dark natural roots peeking out from his undercut, and he looks… older. In fact, he even looks older than you. His tattoos stretch from his neck, to his face, sharp and crisp lines.

His eyebrows are pulled together in a glare, a nasty glare, a small wrinkle forming at the side of his nose in disgust. His head is ever so slightly tilted to the side.

Your eyebrows twitch together, and you find the situation ironic. In fact, you almost want to laugh. Out of all the nice things God had given you today, he wanted to sprinkle in one more surprise.

This man looks like a…

The man takes a step forward, the music in his room blasting even louder. He was close, way too close. If he wasn’t scary before, now that you have to crane your neck back to look at him, he’s terrifying. He narrows his red eyes at you, letting out a harsh, “What the fuck do you want.” His voice is raspy and deep, clouding anyone he would talk to.

You blink at his language and rudeness, shocked by his attitude. You part of your lips, they feel a bit glossy from the water, but…a scoffing laugh leaves your lips.

He looks like an asshole. He’s an asshole. You cover your mouth with your hand, and turn away. A hot asshole. The hot asshole from earlier today. It really is a small world. However, your humor to the events is short lived. You’re quickly reminded of what situation you're in, naked in front of a hot asshole.

The furrow in his eyebrows deepens.

“You look like Yuuji.” It’s a silent whisper, one that receives no reaction to the stranger in front of you. He doesn’t even take a step away from you, he’s still too close for your comfort.

Oh my god. There are two Yuuji’s. Then, light a light bulb, another realization hits you. Oh my god, I’m going to be living with two Yuuji’s. But, you quickly pulled out of your thoughts by another sound.

“Who’s there?” A voice perks from the music, it sounds feminine, and a bit too scratchy for your liking. In a way, it sounds hoarse, or strained. “Is it your brother, I’ve always wanted to meet your brother!” She squeals excitedly, “Let me see him, please!”

Brother? You mimic your thoughts with words, “B-Brother?” You dumbly ask, desperately trying to connect the dots in your head. Wait, you thought Megumi was the one who lived with Yuuji, that’s why the two of them made eye contact back at your old dorm.

Did you completely misread the situation? You cup your mouth in shock. Megumi isn’t Yuuji’s roommate, his older brother is. The hot older brother who happens to be the asshole from earlier, and now.

Oh my god. I’m so stupid.

A blonde woman comes barreling from within the room to the door frame, she’s wearing nothing but a black shirt too big for her. The moment she lays her eyes on your bare frame, her smile twists into something deeply uncomfortable.

You swear, you can hear the water droplets from your hair hitting the ground from how quiet the three of you are. This is such an unforgettable situation. You pull your hand away from your mouth, passing the women a small smile and a wave.

She doesn’t wave back. She looks at the man, but he’s not looking at her, his eyes are trained on you. Caught by the way your chest is glistening from the light of his room and the water from the shower, your neck bare and fresh. How your shoulder rises and falls with each soft breath you take, your hair sticking to your face and shoulders. He can smell the sweet scent of your body wash from here. It smells nice.

You smell nice.

Your eyes are something else, though. They’re practically sparkling from the little light emulated from his room, catching every reflection and giving them life. They’re wide and full of shock, you’re most likely trying to process who he is. That idiot Yuuji most likely didn’t even tell you he had a brother.

You thickly swallow, your throat bobbing ever so slightly.

He smirks to himself. You’re not too bad looking.

“Who is she?” The blonde asks with a bit of force, trying to pull his attention away from you. However, despite her question, and her hands moving to grab his arm, he still isn’t looking at her, he’s quiet, way too quiet for your liking.

He finally shrugs, discreetly pulling his arm away from her hold. “Don’t know. Who cares.” He finally pulls away from your frame, looking at the woman, “Probably one of my brother’s annoyin’ ass friends.”

She tilts her head to the side, “Oh.” She lets out a small laugh, but it seems more mocking than anything. “Thank god, I thought it was one of your crazy exes trying to get back with you.” She glares at you, “Such a pathetic attempt to use, too.”

He takes one final look at you, “Yeah.” He looks at the girl, pushing her to the side as he walks back into his room. “Just like you.” He scoffs to himself, turning over his shoulder and whispering at her, “Crazy bitch.”

She pouts, turning on her heel so her blonde said flips behind her, “Awh! Don’t say that Suki! You know you love me.” She passes you a final satiated glance, “Here, let me make it up to you. Tell me about your tattoos or something!”

Sukuna’s quick to respond with a pinched expression, “Shut the fuck up. Stop acting like you're my girlfriend.” Then, she slams the door on your face, and you flinch from the intrusion.

You cringe a bit, not at all liking how addressed a girl as a ‘bitch.’ If something could make you turn your head in disgust in less then a second, it’s called a girl a bitch. Except when you do it.

You glare at the door, “Bitch.” You think back to the man she addressed as Suki and add, “Asshole.” You look at the door to the right, and make your way there, twisting it and sighing in relief when it opens.

You laugh at yourself, “Thank god..” The first thing you do isn’t change, but open one of your boxes and grab your stationary. Placing them on the vanity. You're quick to grab a quickly sticky note, scribble your name on it, and slam it on the outside of your door.

No more accidents, and no more random hot, older brother, asshole man.

—-

Nobara is peacefully sleeping on the couch, bundling herself in more blankets than one person needs. Her chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic order, you can even hear her softly snoring. The day had been draining, not only for you, but also for her, so you weren’t going to pester her to stay up and watch the crappy horror movie Yuuji picked out.

Megumi is sitting across from her on his phone. His long lashes flutter with each gentle blink he takes. He, unlike everyone in the room, seems a bit more tense. Narrowing his eyes when something unfavorable happens on screen–like a jumpscare–then quickly follows it by doing whatever on his phone.

You have a sneaking suspicion that he’s actually really scared of the movie playing, but that’s just a hunch.

You’re sitting next to Yuuji on the floor, actually–no, Yuuji is laying on you. While you run your hands through his pink tufts, your body is watching the movie playing, but your mind is somewhere else. Not somewhere else, on someone else.

Yuuji opens his mouth, softly humming, “Ah.”

You reach over his head, grabbing his pizza slice and lowering it to his mouth, allowing him to take a bite. He does, and you return it to the plate on the coffee table. Grabbing your drink and taking a sip.

“You have a brother?”

Your question is so quiet, it doesn’t even disturb the peace. The movie is still playing, Nobara is still sleeping, Megumi is still on his phone, and Yuuji is still laying on your lap. He looks away from the screen, his eyes boring into the bottom of your cup.

“Yeah.” Yuuji gives you a halfhearted smile, he’s clearly uncomfortable by the topic. “He’s my older brother, I think he’s graduating next year.” He looks at the TV, then back at you, you notice how he’s holding his breath. “Did he…? Did he say something to you?” The question seems unsure.

You shake your head, “I saw him leave his room when I finished showering.” You pass him a comforting laugh, hand running through his hair. “I thought he was you for a second, until I looked a bit closer.” You wish that was the end of it.

Yuuji lets out a breath, nodding his head. “Good. He can be…” He sighs, looking back at the TV, “You know what, forget about it. He just sucks, so stay out of his way.” He pulls himself up, “Just stay with me, and you’ll be fine.”

You think for a moment, wondering if you should ask Yuuji the question bubbling in your head, but ultimately decide to force it out. “Do you… not like your brother?” You ask him, sneaking a blanket from Nobara and wrapping it around your shoulders. Your hair is still a bit damp, wetting the blanket.

Yuuji rolls his eyes, but it’s playful. “Does anyone like their siblings?” He leans on the couch, propping his arm up and using his hand to hold his head. “We’re just like everyone else, just a bit more… bleh.” Yuuji sticks out his tongue, and you softly laugh.

“Gross.” You mutter, wrinkling your nose. “But, I get that. I think you’re the nicer one.” You look to the side, thinking for a moment, “Actually, wait, I think you look the nicest.”

Yuuji laughs, “Thanks.”

You look at Megumi, “I thought he was your roommate.” You press your lips together, “I thought I was going to be living with you two. I didn’t think it was going to be you… you know.”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry?” Yuuji slaps his hand over his mouth, “I totally forgot too—shit, I thought you knew…” He thinks for a moment, remembering how the two of you quite literally met today. “I—I don't know… how though. Shit, that’s so shitty of me.”

You shake your head, “No, no. It’s okay, I should’ve asked more questions, as a roommate and as a girl. This was kinda’ my own doing for assuming things.” You laugh to yourself, “I also got swept up in the whole free housing thing.”

Yuuji laughs with you, “I would, too. That's why I agreed to move in with my brother, actually.” He rolls his eyes, “A free place to stay, is a free place to stay. Even if I have to deal with an asshole.”

“I got that vibe from him.” You reach over to his shirt, fixing his collar to fix his neck more comfortably. “But I can’t say that to his brother.”

Yuuji silently thanks you, before shaking his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I could care less what you say about him. To be honest, I don’t even talk to him anymore.” He shrugs, “My room is too far away from his to really hear if he’s doing anything, too.” He laughs, “He could secretly be a murder, and I wouldn’t know.”

You giggle, your hands moving to rest on his shoulder. You take this time to lean forward and softly kiss his head, “Thank you for letting me crash with you for a while, I really didn’t want to stay at a shady hotel.” You smile at him when pulling back, “Totally saved my ass.”

Yuuji shakes his head, waving you off. “Stop. Don't even start. I’d do anything for my new best friend.” He loudly yawns, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. “But, I’m getting tired, I think I’m going to crash.” He pushes himself off the floor, searching for the remote and turning off the TV.

Nobara is quick to get up, one of her eyes still shut as she awkwardly says, “H-Huh, what?...” She frantically looks around, “I’ve been up.” She is quick to crash down into the pillow again, gaining a small laugh from everyone in the room.

Megumi shakes his head, pushing himself off the couch. “I’ll take her home.” He glances at you, “Go to bed, I know you still have to set your bed up.”

Sure, you’ve spoken to Yuuji the most this entire day, and spoken to Megumi the least, but he is genuinely your favorite out of the bunch. You pass him a quick smile, but it’s strained and full of exhaustion. “Thanks.”

Megumi just nods over his shoulder, searching for Nobara’s keys. Then, pauses, looking back at you, “Also, just a word for advice, Itadori’s brother…” He starts, “His ex would always complain about him… being really anxious at night, so just wear some headphones or… go to sleep early.”

You giggle, “I’m sure I can handle a bit of music at night.” You point at Nobara, “She used to play the weirdest shit late at night.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think…” Megumi stops himself, “I’m sure you’re going to be fine.” But, his tone, the unsure expression he’s passing you, you can’t help but think…

Obnoxious how?

—-

Honestly, the day could’ve been better. Way better, but it could’ve been worse, way worse. Still, you appreciate how the day has ended. Your sheets laid out and covering the mattress, your blankets and stuffies decorating your bed to make you more comfortable in your new surroundings.

You’ve taken some time to put mostly everything in its respective place. Like the fluffy carpet, and small coffee table in the middle of the room, since you prefer to do your homework sitting on the ground. And the pictures and posters you have of friends, family, shows, and celebrities.

The room was starting to slowly look more like home.

You blink a few times, pressing your glasses to the bridge of your nose—something you don’t wear outside the comfort of your room—and focus on the small text in the booklet Gojo had given you.

You can confidently say you understand what the project is asking of you, but there’s so much to do, and so little time to do it, you don’t even know where to start. You feel overwhelmed. Not only that, but finals are creeping up way too fast for your liking.

“This is a problem for tomorrow, or… today? Whatever. It’s too late.” You whisper to yourself, shutting the booklet and leaning back on the palms of your hands. Looking at the ceiling with a blank expression. You’re tired–exhausted, it’s past twelve and starting to hit the single digits of the AM.

You still have to catch up on all your other missing assignments due to your sudden leave. You close your eyes, pushing yourself off the ground and stretching. There only seems to be one solution to your problems.

You reach for your computer, propping it onto your table and pulling up the show BoJack Horseman, clicking onto the first episode while scrambling around for your backpack.

Time to pull an all-nighter.

You can still hear the music from Yuuji’s brother's room, it’s a bit quieter, but you still add a bit of volume to your computer, trying to drown out the noise. And, it’s nice for the first hour, maybe even the first hour and a half, your writing progressively getting more fit with each assignment you finish. Your eyes are feeling heavier, and BoJack’s life choices are getting dumber.

You feel like you can fall asleep sitting up, but you jump at a small bump. Your ears perk up to the sound of… something you can’t quite put your finger on. Actually, the best way you can describe it, is if it were late at night and you stubbed your toe, yet you were desperately trying to stay quiet.

Hm. In your mind, that seems pretty spot on, yet… you’ve heard this particular nose before. It sounds familiar, really familiar. Maybe from a late-night movie, or a sound from a—

“Ah! O-Oh my god, p-please—please.” A pleasurable cry.

It’s silent again, the sound of BoJack Horseman death to your ears.

A shiver shoots up your spine, forcing your body to shoot itself up. Your eyes widening while your face begins to burn with embarrassment. A small whimper leaves your throat, another shiver shooting down your body, it feels electrifying. It feels dirty.

There’s no fucking way. This can’t be happening, this isn’t real. Today isn’t real. You feel your face flush, ever so slightly turning your head over your shoulder to look at the wall behind you. “It’s probably just a movie..” You tell yourself. “They’re watching a weird movie.”

A gruff voice barks back, “Move your fuckin’ hand and take it.” She cries again, but it’s a bit more muffled compared to her last cry. “Or I’ll move it.” He sounds a bit pained, almost gritted when said, before a small mocking–yet, approving–laugh follows. “Yeah, you can take this dick, can’t you?”

This time, something deep within your blooms in your stomach. A fluttery, almost tingly sensation building deep in you. You feel your finger twitch, blinking at the wall, your freshly decorated bed catching your attention.

Of course your bed is pressed right against his wall, and of course the walls are paper thin.

Your ears perk again at the sound of a forced squeal, a scream of, “K-Kuna’.. W-wait, it feels..” But, her sentence is cut off by another moan, this time more deep and tired. What follows, makes your hips twitch.

“Fucking amazin’? I know.” He groans under his breath, a cocky laugh leaving his mouth, “C’mon, use that dumb cunt of yours to fuck yourself on my cock.” A small bump lands on your wall, much like the sound of a head falling back on it. “Yeah, fuck. Just like that.”

His words are filthy, and drive you a bit crazy. Your mind is clouding with ideas of… him. Kuna, Suki, that’s what she said, those are the two things she called him. Is that his name, Yuuji’s older brother? Are those her nicknames for him?

Kuna?

Suki?

You hate that, you want to scold yourself over fantasizing over a stranger. You’re not fantasizing, you’re just trying to piece together what could be happening on the other side of the wall. How he looks when flushed, half-lidded and body surging with pleasure as he fucks. The noises he’s producing when spending special attention on his sensitive tip. How filthy words leave his mouth with a cocky smile, no care in the world as he tries to embarrass you–

You gasp. No, you didn’t just think that. You didn’t think about Yuuji’s older brother, a stranger, a asshole, fucking you. That’s impossible, you’re not a fiend, you’re not a pervert, and you're not thinking about how hot he looked standing over you. Looking down at you with a scowl as you suck his cock.

Your throat bobs, your mouth salivating. The image of his veins, his happy trail, his v-line, leading down to the print in his sweatpants. You bite onto your bottom lip, lightly slightly sucking onto the skin until it’s a bit swollen.

You mush your thighs together, turning back to the table. Closing your eyes and trying not to think about… no, you’re just trying not to think altogether. Trying to ignore how your body is burning, your panties sticking to your throbbing pussy.

“Get off–” The sentence seems a bit more quiet than before, the whole sentence not translating well to your ears. You’re thankful for that, is what your head is screaming, but your body is desperately itching to hear every dirty word he says.

“Hands… knees.” His voice sounds strained, but still collected.

You flinch when something bangs against the wall. It’s thankfully not hitting your wall, but it sounds incredibly close. Wait, is that?... Is he…? Is that the headboard hitting the wall? The bed lurching forward with each of his harsh thrust.

This time, it’s far too clear for your mind to ignore her quiet sobbing, yet she mumbles small encouragement for Yuuji’s older brother to, “H-hit that.. s-spot.” Babbling profanities you weren’t previously aware of, to scream obnoxiously in your face about how good she feels.

Then, the banging stops. A more human bump hitting the wall, followed by, “That shit’s getting on my nerves.”

“Use a pillow, you don’t need to hold it–ah!”

This time, you don’t hear the headboard of his bed hitting the wall. You only hear the creaking of the mattress hissing uncomfortably under the weight of two people. You wonder what he did exactly to prevent the noise.

Press his hands above his head board onto the wall, then continue to fuck her senseless. Or, does he only have one hand pressed against the wall, only grabbing onto the top of the headboard and using it to add more strength behind each stroke. Sending the annoying girl deeper into her spiral of pleasure.

You feel your eyes water ever so slightly… and–you may be perverse, or a dirty girl. But, you don’t care, you really don’t fucking care. Especially not when your pussy is desperate for some harsh attention, a big mean man to fuck you senseless. To spread you open and toy with your sensitive and drooling cunt.

You… you wish that girl is you. You wish you are her. Crying over a cock that makes you feel so good, you don’t care if anyone is listening. You wouldn’t care if he was forcing you to take it to quick or hard, his hands grabbing your hips and forcing you to fuck his cock with your overstimulated pussy.

No, stop, I have shit to do. You don’t have the time to be stupid over boys. “Where are my headphones?” You need to do work, you need to have conviction and discipline. The moment you wake up tomorrow, remembering all the things you thought about the previous night, you’re going to jump off a cliff.

You just need some clarity, some sleep. That’s all it is, you’re exhausted, and the idea of… No, don’t even start. You softly sing the opening tune of BoJack Horseman to yourself. It may be stupid, but it keeps you concentrated on the task at hand.

You need to do homework, you are too far behind to get distracted. Even now, while desperately looking for your headphone–it’s in one of these boxes, it has to be–you’re ignoring the noises from the other room. Did you lose them? Did you really lose them the one time you actually need them?

Fine.

You’ll wake up early tomorrow, find your headphones, and finish your assignments. You scramble for your lights, flicking them off and diving into your bed. Your computer is still open, Netflix asking the annoying, ‘Are you still there?’ But, you’re not paying attention.

Your eyes are shut, a pillow wrapped around your head while you’re slowly growing more annoyed. It’s so obnoxious, vulgar, rude… You don’t even know how to describe the situation Yuuji’s older brother is putting you in.

It’s dick move.

Wouldn’t it be common courtesy to try and be quiet. It’s such an awkward situation for you, such a weird situation to be in. It’s infuriating. A part of you wants to loudly knock on the wall and scream at them, but the other part of you wants to give Yuuji’s older brother the benefit of the doubt.

He’s probably just unaware.

You’ll tell ‘Kuna–hopefully his name is ‘Kuna, you really don’t know–tomorrow when you run into him. Or, tell him to be a bit more reserved, or ashamed, of what he’s doing, and how hard it is to focus on work when people are obnoxiously fucking in the room right next to you.

Besides, you genuinely can’t stand the idea of dealing with that every single night while trying to do your work. It sounds like a pain, a hassle that will never let you sleep or study undisturbed. That’s too weird, that’s too annoying.

But, you know the real reason.

It’s why you’re desperately rubbing your thighs together. While trying to force yourself to sleep.

Next Chapter: Ch. 2 - Sexual Tension.

#Silent Love: Sukuna x Reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #jjk x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut

376 notes · View notes

empresskylo · 6 months

Text

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 13 ⬅ch.12

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. lil bit of 'dark' simon. wc 7.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | here we fucking go

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you tried your hardest to repress all of simon’s words to you from last night. the way he stopped you in the hallway, heightening all of your senses, dead set on telling you things he probably hadn’t told anyone in a long time… it was dangerous. it was leading you to believe he actually cared about you. that maybe this thing you fabricated between the two of you wasn’t all in your head after all.

what did it mean if he was trying to let you in?

you tried not to think back to the night at the bar, when simon had his fingers inside you. when he coaxed you to orgasm, his words melting in your ear, like he was just as desperate for you as you had become for him.

and maybe he pushed you away because he didn't know how to let someone in that kind of way—and maybe what he was feeling scared him. then the image of the blonde woman he was talking to in the training room—him watching her attentively as she spoke—made you think of his fingers on her. it made your stomach twist into knots. you shut that thought down and instead tried to conjure the way he looked at you in the bar—when he said, i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys . well, apparently, you hated seeing him with other girls, too.

a sudden flush warmed your cheeks as you strolled down the hall at base. except simon was a grown man—years older than you, even—so you weren’t going to put words in his mouth. if he wanted you to know how he felt, he’d tell you. you weren’t going to sit around and make things up in your head—playing around with all the what if’s.

and still, your mind wandered. it felt like you had no power in keeping him out of your mind and you hated it. you hated that you thought of him so often. you couldn’t help but think back to the other night in his room when he followed you into the bathroom and stared at you like he wanted to devour you whole. his body radiating so much heat, you felt yourself sweating standing before him. you remembered the way his lips twitched like he was dying to kiss you, acting like a starving man.

your heart fluttered and you shook your head of your daydreams. you were off to find soap, who was hopefully in the training room, needing to feel confident in yourself again before you went on your next mission. and you needed him by your side to help you practice.

it was weird how you had somehow weaseled your way into task force 141. you were swept away into the rush of combat, the adrenaline boost of being in the height of the action. sidelined with ghost, price, gaz, and soap. it not only made you swell with a bit of pride but made you nauseous at the thought of delving into something so crucial and vital. were you really cut out to be at the same level as these men?

you peered into the training room through the glass door and looked for soap. when you didn’t spot him, you used that as an excuse to hold off on your training exercises to go and seek him out… you couldn’t train alone … at least that’s what you told yourself. maybe you weren’t really ready to get back into the action and you were using this as an excuse to make yourself impertinent to the upcoming mission. maybe you’d get left behind.

down at the motorpool—the large hangar where all the humvees and other military-grade vehicles were kept—you felt a cold breeze rustle through your hair through the open wall. you hustled down the metal stairs, scanning the large room, looking for a mohawked sergeant.

your eyes perused a crowd of commotion and you maneuvered your way over to see what was going on. as you got closer, you realized it was a collective of new recruits. it was easy for it to slip your mind that a new wave of soldiers had been starting out this week. you hadn’t even thought to ask if that meant you’d be getting any new medics in the infirmary.

they were likely getting lectured on safety protocols with all the tanks and militarized vehicles. bored with the swarm of newbies, you slid behind a humvee to go find soap, maybe he’d have some intel on divisions the recruits were being added to.

a deep voice echoed behind you and made the hairs on your neck rise. you stopped in your tracks and peered around the vehicle, spotting a tall man with a skull balaclava on. ghost .

you couldn’t help the nerves that filled your chest and stomach. were things going to be awkward with your next encounter? should you mention the intimate details he told you last night, or pretend like it never happened?

as you pondered your unusual situation with your lieutenant, your heart stopped. ghost stood beside the blonde recruit you saw him with the other day in the gym. her hair was pulled back in a way that should be unflattering but somehow accentuated her beauty. she sported the same dull outfit as the rest of her peers and yet she wore it far better than you ever could. what made your eyes widen, however, was the way she looked up at ghost as another lieutenant was lecturing the group about something you tuned out, already accustomed to the military spiel.

you watched in horror as she bumped him on the shoulder, laughing as she said something to him. why were you getting so jealous? simon wasn’t yours . if he wanted to flirt with the new recruit, he had every right—no matter how unethical, but that thought was just you being petty.

ghost looked down at her, hunched over slightly so his face was in line with hers, and mumbled something under his mask. your heart dropped at the proximity of their faces.

you finally had enough, pissed at yourself for falling into a rabbit hole, thinking maybe he had grown to truly care about you. you turned back in your tracks and went to leave. ghost’s head snapped up at your abrupt movement, your boots on the hard ground echoing in the building at the lull in lecture. you refused to meet his eyes and raced back to the metal stairs and ran up them as fast as you could without falling.

you’d find soap later. you didn’t want to see him right now. how could you let yourself get hurt by ghost again? johnny would think you so stupid—you said you were moving on, that it didn’t bother you anymore. but then, spotting him with another girl, it made you feel sick.

you needed to get him out of your head for good. shouldn’t it be easy? he didn’t like you. he told you so himself.

you hadn’t heard him coming, so when you made it back into the hallway, you yelped as two hands grabbed you and spun you around, pushing you up against the cement wall.

the ugly fluorescent light stuttered, creating an eerie glow over ghost as he loomed above you, his hands still gripping your shoulders.

“i can’t fuckin’ do this, anymore,” he growled out. the baritone of his voice sent a small wave of fear up your spine. you may have grown to like ghost, acquainted with his rough demeanor, but you couldn’t forget how intimidating he could truly be.

you looked away from his gaze, your eyes watering. how stupid ghost must think you. to be incapable of a hookup—to be crying over him. he was a cold-hearted killer years older than you, and you really thought you stood a chance? he must think you beyond naive. maybe he’d finally get you kicked off his team—

he cut off your racing thoughts abruptly when he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. you heard him sigh as you let your eyes meet his, a tear sliding down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“stop apologizing.” you thought back to one of your first conversations with ghost, when he had yelled at you for being so soft—for apologizing so freely. he told you to stop then, too.

you could feel the warmth from his gloveless fingers as he held your chin in place, almost like he was worried you’d look away the second he let go. his eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom one with a gentle swipe. your lips parted at his touch before ghost dropped his hands back to his side.

“m’not interested in her,” he said rather quietly.

your eyes found his before dancing away and looking at your feet. you didn’t think you’ve ever felt so embarrassed before. getting jealous over your superior—who has made it clear he’s not interested—talking to another teammate?! “it’s fine,” you said shyly. “i’m sorry, you don’t have to explain yourself. i know that you—uhm—comforting me doesn’t mean we’re together. i don’t know why i—”

ghost’s hand on your chin cut you off for a second time. “look at me.”

you reluctantly did and he dropped his hand again, his fingers flexing. “m’not good for you.”

you blinked rapidly, tilting your head slightly. “what do you m—”

“for fuck’s sake,” he said a bit harshly. “you’re right. we’re not together . and yet i’ve already hurt ya more times than i’d like.” he had to bend his neck to look down at you as he spoke. he took a small step closer, entering your personal space in a way that made your head rush. “you deserve better than me. a better man.”

“ghost, i—”

“simon,” he corrected in a harsh, splitting tone. you felt your cheeks warm. simon shifted on his feet, his mask suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “used t’like that callsign. reminded me of who i had become n’ why i was doin’ all this. but hearin’ you say m’name, my real name …” he cleared his throat. “reminded me of who i started out as. that m’human.” he paused. “i like hearin’ your voice say my name.”

your lips quirked up a little but quickly faded. simon watched your every movement, his heart racing just as it did on the battlefield. “i don’t understand.” your hands came up and ran through your hair. “i’m so confused. d-do you want me as a friend? or do want me to forget everything that’s happened between us and pretend like nothing happened between us? that’d probably be best, wouldn’t it?” you gave a strained laugh and simon’s eyes narrowed. “you’re my lieutenant and i'm just a medic.” you didn’t know if that last sentence was intended for you, or him.

he wanted to tell you that you weren’t just a medic . he hated hearing the way you talked about yourself.

you looked up at him with such fierce hope in your eyes, but he could see the sadness laced behind them. and all that sorrow had spurred from him. he caused that pain you were feeling. he was ruining you already. ruining such an innocent thing. that’s what he did, he was destructive. he tore things down. he should stop leading you on. he should hurt you so you’ll go back to hating him. so you can be just another one of his subordinates again.

after a few beats of silence, you nodded. “okay,” you said softly, accepting that as his answer. your words were so faint that it hurt simon’s ears to hear your voice like that.

this was it—the closure you needed. you developed a little crush. simon thought you attractive enough for one night of reprieve. you wanted more. he couldn’t give it to you. and he was telling you to move on from all the shit that happened between the two of you. to forget those nights he comforted you. to forget how much relief you felt when he was the first face you saw after being held hostage.

you turned to walk away, your back to him. simon felt his heartache, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. shit , this was only going to hurt you and him. but he wasn’t a good man. he wasn’t a better man. or a man you deserved. he’d only ruin you. he shouldn’t let himself. but he never claimed to be a good man.

ghost yanked his mask from his face, shoving it in his pocket. it took him only a few strides to catch up to you. he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you collided with his chest. he was done bullshitting around. in this moment, he decided he didn’t care about how this would be a disaster. he’d worry about that later.

“ what —?” you started, surprised.

then his lips were on yours.

his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto the tips of your toes as he kissed you deeper, starved for something only you could quench.

you were hesitant before quickly matching his passion. your hands wrapped around his neck, encouraging his tall frame further down over you. you both stumbled as he backed you up against the wall of the abandoned hallway, his hands around your waist, forcing you into him.

he tasted like whiskey and mint and a little like something cataclysmic. something that would only hurt you with time. but you didn’t care. in that moment, the only thing you could think about was the way he felt against you.

you had worked with ghost for over a month now, and you never imagined him as a romantic. you couldn’t picture him kissing a girlfriend or wife. or see him saying sweet nothings into his partner's ear. so with him filling all of your senses, his hands gently, but firmly, plastering you to him as he devoured you, the juxtaposition of it gave you butterflies.

one of his hands escaped and slid up to cup your cheek, allowing him to deepen the kiss. you felt your breath get lost in your throat, his lips far more soft and warm than you would have imagined someone like his.

“m’not good for you,” he mumbled between kisses.

“i don’t care,” you said breathlessly.

he pushed his body against yours in response, caging you in between him and the wall. you heard him groan in his throat. his hand slid against your skin where your shirt began to hike up, his fingertips leaving burn marks all over.

he finally slowed, kissing you a few more times before actually pulling away. but his hands stayed locked around you. “don’t think i can handle losing you,” he said truthfully.

your breath got lost the second you were able to look at his bare face. his rugged beauty made you want to weep. he was so gorgeous and you doubt he even knew it.

“you won’t.”

he didn’t seem to like that answer. you didn't know that. but he did. he knew something was sure to come between the two of you, whether that was death or of his own destruction.

his eyebrows furrowed as he studied you, his cheeks pinking and his lips swollen. before he had time to ruin this moment, you went onto the tips of your toes, feeling brazen as your hands clutched onto his jacket so you could kiss him again. your hands moved to wrap around his waist, softly scratching his back over his shirt. you heard him moan into the kiss and you subconsciously clenched your thighs.

“ fuck ,” he mumbled against your lips, his slight stubble tickling you. “i want you so bad.”

your heart fluttered in your chest. your head was telling you to slow down—to stop and discuss things. to figure out what was happening between the two of you so you didn’t get burned again.

but when you opened your lips to speak, all that came out was, “ prove it. ”

simon grunted, pulling back to look at you. if he was a smiling man, he would be grinning ear to ear. something wicked was spreading through him. “you don’t want a man like me,” he rasped.

“you don’t know what i want.”

he bent over and swept you up into his arms making you squeal. he clicked his tongue, “quiet, pet. don’t want the whole barracks to know, do ya?”

you shook your head, unable to speak for fear of stumbling over your words.

simon carried you swiftly back to his room, skillfully avoiding running into anyone, not even caring that he didn’t have his mask on.

you made it to the confines of his room in record time. he was a man on a mission.

he kicked the door closed behind him and plopped you down onto your feet, his hand dragging against your body as he did. you swallowed hard, your hands gripping his jacket.

you leaned into him tentatively, like you were asking permission. like you weren’t sure if he was going to push you away for being forward. that thought made simon angry, his hands tightening on you.

he leaned over to meet your lips halfway. you moved in sync far slower than earlier, the two of you taking the time to soak in the moment. all of your worries about the upcoming mission, all of the things that kept you awake at night, were slowly sinking away. simon was absorbing it all. taking the pain so you could feel the relief.

and simon was never a kissing man. he didn’t really see the point. but he never wanted his lips to separate from yours. he felt your kiss all the way to his fucking toes.

he pushed you back so your knees hit his bed and you collapsed onto it. his hands rested on either side of your thighs on his mattress, his eyes burning holes through you. his eyelashes stood out, the blondeness of them stark against his charcoal face paint.

“m’not gonna be able t’stop once i start,” he said darkly. “so ya gotta tell me now if you don’t wanna do this.”

he was holding himself back from wrecking you like he so desperately wanted. the number of times he had imagined this moment where he got you alone in his room, ready and willing, was sure to be astronomical by now.

you gulped, his nose inches from yours as he waited for your answer. his fingers were begging to touch you, but he had to wait. he had to make sure you wanted this. that you wanted him like he wanted you.

“please. don’t stop,” you said, quietly.

simon growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up over your thighs. your lips parted as you watched him unbuckle your tactical pants. “lift your hips,” he commanded. you obliged and he heaved the clothing away from you, not in the right state of mind to take his time. he wanted you—no, he needed you—right this second.

he tore your pants off of you along with your boots and then he was squeezing himself between your thighs, falling to the floor on his knees.

“simon, what’re—“

his large hands hooked around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed, putting your legs on his shoulders. you felt shy all of a sudden. taken aback. you didn’t quite think he was going to do this…

“relax, pet,” he cooed, his warm lips meeting the soft skin of your upper thigh. you bit your lip as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours. his eyes fluttered as he moved his lips on you. he kissed up to the apex of your thighs and then kissed you over your underwear. you gasped from the fiery contact. he chuckled, reveling in the way you were already panting before him.

he pushed your panties to the side and his lips were immediately on you, not wanting to tease you any longer purely because he couldn’t stand it. his mouth was on your core, kissing and sucking, his tongue dragging along you. your head fell back in pleasure, your hands finding his hair.

he hummed against you, the obscene sounds his mouth was making rang in your ears.

he devoured you like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. and you were a buffet spread out for the taking.

you felt his finger slide up and tease your entrance, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. you groaned.

simon was getting frustrated with the cloth that limited his access, so he hooked your panties in his hand and yanked. you gasped as the fabric ripped and he tossed it to the ground. he spoke when he saw your mouth open, “i’ll buy you more.”

his lips were attacking you before you had the chance to even reply.

simon slid one of his digits inside of you, slowly filling you up. “ oh my god ,” you moaned.

he began to move his finger in and out of you while he worked your clit with his mouth. his free hand wrapped around your thigh and splayed over your stomach to keep you from moving, rooting you in place while he coaxed you closer to your orgasm.

without warning, he slid a second finger inside you, making you squeal. “you taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled to himself. he moved his fingers in and out of you and you fell back onto the bed, moaning at the way he was torturing you. “sound good, too.”

his fingers pumped inside you and he felt your walls squeezing him tight. “close?” he asked.

you nodded furiously, unable to speak a coherent word. he groaned against you like he was enjoying pleasuring you as much as you were.

then he slipped his fingers from you. you whined at the loss. “don’t worry, i’m gonna get you there. i just want you t’come on my tongue, baby,” he reassured. his mouth was on you again, his tongue darting in and out like his digits had been as if he was jealous of his own fingers. you didn’t even have time to process the pet name.

you fisted his bedsheets, your legs wrapping around him, your hips bucking up slightly. simon held you down as his mouth brought you to orgasm. you cried his name, “ ah –simon.” you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

simon let you ride out your high, his mouth never failing to move against you, bringing you to the brink of overstimulation.

when you settled back down, completely out of breath, he came up and rested between your legs. “neva thought m’name could sound so good.”

your face warmed, shy at his compliment. his mouth glistened with you and you had the urge to kiss him. he grinned, reading your face, and he brought his lips down and let you taste yourself.

it felt like you had a fever as you kissed him. you bucked your hips up into him without your permission and he groaned. you could feel his hard length straining in his pants, pushing against you.

“ jesus ,” he said breathlessly.

your hands slid down his front and he turned to watch them as they trailed to his belt. before you could undo it he pushed back and stood up. he slid his jacket off, his eyes never breaking away from yours. next was his belt, the metal clinking something so sensual. then he pushed them down his legs, kicking off his boots too, and you could see how large he was in his tight boxers. you sat up, your legs hanging off the bed as you watched, entranced.

then he pulled his shirt from his body, exposing his toned chest. even though the lighting in his room wasn’t great, you could easily see all the scars that marred his torso, matching the ones that cut across his beautiful face, only managing to make him that much more haunting. he had a small smattering of hair on his chest that then trailed down beneath his boxers. your chest thrummed loudly in your ears.

your hands reached out and grabbed at his waistband, pulling him closer to you. even though you would never be strong enough to move him, he edged closer, letting you have your way. you looked up at him as your hand slid into his underwear, pulling him out. he groaned, his lips parting as you fisted him. you were still surprised with how bold you were acting. but the way his eyes had darkened, looking at you like a feral animal, gave you a confidence boost.

your eyes fluttered down and you marveled at him, a glistening of precum already pooling on his tip. and fucking hell, he was huge. you already knew he was from that drunken night, but being with him sober? you had no idea how he was going to fit inside you.

you stroked him a few times, prepared to bring your mouth down over him before he pushed you away.

you looked up confused and his thumb brushed along your lower lip. “as much as i’d like t’feel your hand and mouth ‘round me. i won’t last.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “and i need t’be inside you or it might kill me.”

your heart raced at his dramatics. he grabbed you under your armpits and heaved you further back onto his bed. you sat and watched as he crawled up and over you. he pushed your legs apart to much of your resistance, suddenly feeling a wave of bashfulness. “don’t go shy on me now, pet.”

your stomach warmed as he bullied his way between your legs, settling himself on top of you like this was exactly where he belonged and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise. and he was far too heavy for you to move even if you tried. his hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt and tear it up over your head. he groaned as he looked at your chest. he seemed too impatient to properly unhook your bra so he simply tugged it down. your nipples hardened for him. and simon couldn’t stop himself, he leaned down and sucked on one of your tits, his other hand palming your other breast.

your back arched into him as his soft lips teased your nipple. his other hand kneaded your breast, making a chill ride up your spine. you helped him out and undid your bra, tossing it to the side. his tongue swirled around you and you finally broke. “simon, please . i need you.”

and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his sorry excuse of a life.

he didn’t deserve to have you begging for him like that. but he didn’t care. he rose from your chest and gazed down at you, his hand running through your hair, admiring the glow your skin was emitting from the fevor.

“you deserve to be fucked good n’ slow,” his words guttural. “but i need ya too fuckin’ badly, pet.”

you didn’t care about any of that. you wanted him to know he didn’t have to be gentle with you. you reached down between your bodies and gripped his cock in your hand, making his hips jerk forward. “then take me,” you whispered.

“shit,” he cursed, his cock throbbing painfully against you. “don’t have a condom.” simon didn’t ever keep condoms in his room at base. he didn’t have a habit of sleeping with subordinates. when he slept with women, it was back home.

you helped line him up with your entrance, your body heady with anticipation. he breathed your name. “it’s fine,” you urged.

“s’not. we shouldn’t—“

“simon, please.” you looked up at him through your lashes. a piece of you felt like if you two didn’t fuck right this second, it was never going to happen. and you wanted him more than you had ever wanted any other man in your life.

“y’sure?” he knew he wasn’t going to say no when you asked him, looking so pretty sprawled beneath him. he wasn’t as strong as he thought.

you nodded and slid your hands up to wrap around simon’s back as he took charge, taking his cock in his hand and pushing his tip into you without wasting time.

you both groaned in sync. he edged into you ever so slowly. and even with your previous orgasm loosening you up to him, it was still a tight fit. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“m’i hurtin’ you?”

your eyes fluttered open to a concerned simon, his eyes darting between yours, trying to get a read on you. “y’gotta tell me if i’m hurtin’ ya.”

“you’re not hurting me,” you said, breathlessly.

“hm, jus’ a bit too big for ya, then?” he rasped. he chuckled at the way you went shy at his words even though his cock was currently edging inside you—but it was his words that made you blush. “you can take it,” he cooed.

he pushed into you further, and you mewled in your throat at the intrusion. your body tried to push him out, making simon groan into your neck. “so. fuckin’. tight,” he managed to get out.

you buried your face in his neck while he was buried in your hair, both of you trying to compose yourselves as simon forced his way into you. “simon,” you groaned, making his hips jerk, sending his length further into you in a way that was almost painful.

“gotta stop sayin’ my name, princess. or i won’t be able to do this slowly,” he said through strained breaths.

princess . you felt your heart swoon at hearing something so devastatingly sweet coming out in his husky baritone.

you nodded and his hand slid up and fisted your hair.

it took another full minute for him to slowly push his way inside of you. your legs were wrapped around his waist, pressing against him as tightly as you could, bracing yourself for the small sharp spurts of pain. “m’sorry,” he muttered into your ear. he knew it hurt you. he could see it on your face that the way he stretched you out was uncomfortable. but bloody fucking hell , he couldn’t stop.

“s’okay,” you slurred.

your hips bucked up weakly when simon adjusted his position. you both groaned at the movement. your clit brushed against him, sending a bolt of pleasure through your core. “please. move, now.”

he was big, and even with you so wet, he still teetered the line of being too large for you. but you could handle it. you just needed to get past this part so you could fully enjoy it.

he held himself up on his arms and he slowly dragged his cock out of you, only going halfway, before pushing back into you with decent resistance. “ah,” you cried.

“need me t’stop?” he asked you, though he prayed you’d say no.

you shook your head and spoke a bit breathlessly. “no. keep going. please.”

he furrowed his brows but did as you said.

he pulled out halfway again before pushing back in. this time he groaned deep in his throat, the way your walls squeezed him was almost too much.

he slowly pulled out again, except now he did all the way. and when he thrusted back into you, you yelped. he tried to restrain himself, but his mind was turning to mush. he began at a steady thrusting rhythm, trying to go slow, but on the brink of completely breaking and succumbing to his desires.

after a few strokes, your body adjusted and allowed him to move a little more easily.

and it began to feel good. really good. you wondered if it would feel this good if simon was any other man. or if this was so mind-numbing because of how desperate you were for him.

simon grunted, repeatedly in your ear just as you imagined he would. he wasn’t usually very vocal in bed, didn’t see the need. he thought it was all just theatrics. but he couldn’t stop himself from letting sounds pour from his mouth. you felt that good.

“m’not gonna last— oh, fuck— long.”

your nails dug into his marred back, neither of you caring about how much pressure you were putting on him. to be honest, he didn’t even care if you drew blood—if anything, he might have preferred it. he wanted to know you were enjoying this just as ardently as he was.

simon reached around him to grab one of your hands that currently had a death grip on his back and interlaced your fingers before pushing your interlocked hands onto the mattress. you squeezed his hand tightly, an orgasm brewing inside you.

“god,” you mewled, letting out little whimpers every time he bottomed out.

“sound s’pretty f’me, pet,” he said through gritted teeth.

his other hand reached down to your thigh and pulled your leg further up, hooking his hand behind your knee, so he could hit you deeper. you gasped at the position shift, his cock in as deep as it could possibly go. his hand held your thigh so tightly you worried he might leave bruises.

“i’m so close,” you babbled. your free hand slid to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his short hair. he loved the way it felt.

simon looked down at you, marveling at how fast you were reaching your climax, just as he was. he liked the notion that he was doing this to you.

his makeup smudged down his face from the perspiration, his pale lashes standing out against the dark. your heart raced looking at him. he was gorgeous. he caught your gaze and leaned down to kiss your lips—something that surprised him. he wasn’t a romantic. he didn’t even really like kissing. yet he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

you clenched around him and his lips parted, gasping and breathing heavily against your mouth. his hand that was currently around your leg left to pay attention between your thighs. he began circling your clit with his fingers. “want you t’come for me,” he said lowly.

you mewled, his lips still grazing yours as you both tried to breathe. you spasmed around him and he shut his eyes briefly at the sensation. “ fuck .”

as he felt himself about to release, he had the urge to be looking at you. he opened his eyes and used one hand to grab your chin, making your face look directly at him. “don’t look away,” he commanded.

you nodded, his hand reaching back down between your thighs. your legs began to shake, your walls impossibly tight as they clenched repeatedly around him. “bloody hell,” he moaned.

you felt so good, he didn’t want to pull out. he wanted to feel this forever. and as you climaxed, he reached his high, his sounds primal, growling and grunting at an increasing speed with each of his frantic thrusts.

his fingers continued to rub against you even as he pulled his cock out of you. but he was a little too late. he came just inside your entrance, then emptied himself all over your lower stomach.

you cried out his name as he panted, his fingers never faltering, his other hand still gripped tightly around yours. “simon,” you breathed in a pained breath. “stop, please. s’too much.”

he slowed his finger movements and then pulled away completely. he sat back to look down at you. his hand slipping from yours. you lay sprawled on his bed, your legs parted for him, his waist nestled between them. his come was dripping from your cunt, your chest rising in rapid beats. “fuckin’ hell,” he couldn’t help but praise. you were a work of art. and he was going to fucking ruin you.

then something feral came over him. he leaned down, his hands grabbing the tops of your thighs, keeping your legs from touching one another, and his tongue came out, licking you like he had earlier. “ah! what’re you— oh my go d—doing?” you asked, exasperated.

“cleanin’ you up,” he said nonchalantly like this was the normal way men acted after sex instead of being repulsed by their own come, finding clarity after orgasming.

you were so sensitive as he lapped at you, his tongue dancing over your clit and sucking at your labia gently at first. but then he went a little harder, on a new mission entirely. your legs squeezed around his head, caging him in, wanting to block the overwhelming sensation. you were starting to feel beyond overstimulated.

“s-simon,” you stuttered, wanting him to stop, but not being able to get the words out. his tongue focused back on your clit, sucking and rubbing aggressively against you. and without even realizing it was possible, you orgasmed for a third time. you came around his mouth again as he ate you like you were the most delectable dessert he’d ever had.

he let you ride out your high on his tongue before he pulled away and hovered over you. “ jesus ,” he groaned, looking at your messed-up hair and glowing face.

his hand moved to brush against your lips, his thumb dragging over them before sliding to the side of your face and running through your hair. your eyes fluttered at the delicate touch.

simon collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as yours was, as if he, too, just came again.

the realization crashed down on you as you looked over at him. he felt your gaze and he rolled his head on the bed to meet your eyes.

“i-i can do casual,” you said, your face heating. he quirked a brow in question. “i can be casual. you don’t have to worry about my feelings. i—”

“is that what you think this is?”

your eyes had a hard time staying locked with his. “was i not supposed to think… i thought you wanted…” your hands twirled around once another in nerves.

simon rolled to his side, his arm extending over you protectively and caged you in. “there has never been anything casual about us.” his eyes flickered to your lips. he sighed. “i don’t want casual.” as much as he fought his desires for you, they were never casual.

did that mean he wanted nothing at all? was this it? did he reach his end goal? getting into your pants? and now he wanted nothing more from you.

“oh,” you said crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“i want more than that,” he said through a struggled breath, as if this was foreign for him to say—at it likely was—but more importantly, he knew he shouldn’t be saying it.

“as in…” you started. his hand came out to brush against your cheek. fucking hell, you never thought he could be so gentle. your eyes dropped to the scar on his lip.

“ as in ,” he continued, “i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i haven’t had a girlfriend since secondary school. and even that wasn’t serious.”

your eyes widened. “ girlfriend ?”

he rolled his eyes and fell back onto his pillow, running a hand through his hair. “i’m tellin’ you,” he said dragging out the words. “i want you to be mine . n’ only mine.” his voice got deeper all of a sudden thinking of the times he had thought you were with johnny. or when graves had complimented you and you smiled sweetly at him. he hated that jealous feeling he got.

you waited a beat before sitting up completely. he watched you, his eyes focused. “are you going to ask me?”

he smirked, looking like a predator hunting its prey. “no.” he sat up too, grabbing his shirt from the floor and handing it to you to put on. “m’not askin’, pet. i’m tellin’ you. you’re mine.”

“and if i choose not to acknowledge that?” you were pushing him. while you liked the openness he was currently exuding, you also had something in your gut telling you he wasn’t good for you— look at his track record. how he’s treated you so far .

“you’ll end up gettin’ me dishonorably discharged if y’do that.”

“how–”

“i’d have t’kill any man you let touch you.”

you laughed, but his face didn’t change. “you can’t be serious.”

“deadly.”

you should have had him grovel more for what he had said to you. for all the mean words. for the night in the bar when he told you you meant nothing to him. and now, all of a sudden, he thought he had claim over you. your lust was clogging your head, and now you were seeing clearly.

“i don’t think that's fair.” you looked away from him, putting his shirt on and crawling out of his bed, looking for your pants.

simon pulled his boxers back on and reached out to you before you could get too far. his calloused hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. if he decided to never let you go, you’d never be able to leave. you were nowhere near as strong as him.

you turned slowly towards him. he sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes looking at his feet in thought, his arm extended to you.

you took in a breath as you watched him, waiting for him to say or do something. “simon,” you finally said, softly.

he looked up at you, his usual cold demeanor covering his face, though it was almost more unsettling without his mask. “what d’you want from me?”

you tilted your head. “what do i want from you?”

he nodded, his hand still clutching yours. “i don’t know. i… i guess i never knew. you never really gave me time.” your free hand pulled at his shirt in nerves. “all i know, is i wanted you to like me. that’s how it started, at least,” you gave a mirthless, forced laugh. “and maybe i did develop a little crush,” you said, mimicking how he had said it. your cheeks grew hot, embarrassed to be saying this. you weren’t sure how words were embarrassing you when you just had his head between your legs, but that was beyond the point. “and then i thought you definitely hated me. probably thought i was a kiss-up. but at the bar… and you said…”

he sighed. “i know what i said.”

you rolled your eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. “so, i don’t know what i want, simon. i didn’t think this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was going to amount to… this.”

simon jerked you towards him and you had no choice but to stumble into him. his hand released you and instead, both of them slid up your leg and rested on the sides of your thighs as you stood between his open legs. “m’sorry.”

you gave him a sideways smile.

“i didn’t wanna let anyone get too close. they always leave me in the end. thought pushin’ you away would do us both good.” he shook his head. “was wrong—which is new for me.”

you giggled and he smiled, wiping your eyes before tears could fall.

his grip on your legs tightened. “m’not good for you. i meant that. but i want you. and m’done pretendin’ like i don’t. m’not a good man. but you can decide f’yourself.”

your finger traced one of the scars on his cheeks. “so, you want to keep doing this?”

he nodded.

“and we’re to be… exclusive.”

“i wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout killin’ any man that touches you.”

you didn’t doubt it. “okay,” you said faintly.

his eyes flickered between yours. “okay,” he mirrored.

something strange settled in simon’s stomach. in all the ways without actually saying it, you were now his girlfriend. how you had gone from hating him to dating him, in less than an hour was beyond him.

and he knew he was going to mess this up. he had always known he was never allowed to keep anything good in life. that’s a big reason he refused to act on his feelings towards you. it’s why he tried to get you to hate him after he relapsed at the bar. he didn’t deserve anything good.

nothing good can stay, at least not for simon.

and he would soon be right.

chapter 14 ➡

646 notes · View notes

azrielsdove · 4 months

Text

Love and Loss: Ch.7

Warnings: Mention of Injury, Some Smut, 18+

Ch.6 Here | Ch.8 Here

***

You were not happy about being dragged to the Illyrian war-camp with everyone else. Azriel had demanded it, refusing to go anywhere without you since that night after the Hewn City. He acted as if he let you out of his sight you would disappear from him forever. Nothing more had happened since then, besides his need to be more protective than normal. Even at night you would feel the cool brush of his shadows running over your arms, checking in to make sure all was well.

You didn’t mind any of that, but bringing you out here when you had no reason to come? You were annoyed with him and he could certainly tell. You hadn’t said a single word to him since he had dropped you in this cabin. Not that you particularly wanted to stay at the House of Wind when all the Illyrians were gone, but that was beside the point. You didn’t appreciate him making you come, especially when it meant more time around Rhysand.

Luckily for you, he and Feyre had been gone for a few days. You sat on the plush chair with your feet tucked up under you, a book in your hands as usual. You were pointedly ignoring the shadows twirling through your fingers as you read, even more so ignoring their master in the corner of the room. You could tell he was growing agitated with you, not quite understanding why you were so upset.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asked, voice low. You didn’t look up from your book or respond to his question. “I know you’re mad I brought you here, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone up there. What if you needed one of us?”

You turned the page in your book.

A shadow swirled up your neck and hooked around your chin, forcing your gaze up to the Shadowsinger. He had stalked closer to you, standing in front of you now. “I don’t like being ignored,” he murmured, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. You shoved down the heat that was creeping up through you, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to be angry.

“I don’t enjoy being forced to come wherever you go like i’m your little toy,” you shot back. He leaned down closer, hands coming to rest on the arms of the chair below you. His shadow remained on your chin while the others ran over your arms and legs.

“You’d rather I left you unprotected, stuck miles up in the sky?” His eyes were hard, his breath fanning over your cheeks. You glared right back at him.

“It would have been preferable to being stuck here.” Your disdain for the violent Illyrian camps was not something you hid. You remembered the stories Rhysand had told you of their youth, and how hard he had worked to try to change things. How slow that change was coming.

Azriel leaned down even more, lips close enough to brush yours as he spoke. “Mmm, but then you wouldn’t have me around.” His voice was teasing, a light in his eye. You hated how easily he could bring your brain to mush, turn a bad mood into a good one.

You were seconds away from closing the minuscule gap between the two of you and press your lips to his. A loud bang outside accompanied by yelling tore you from the moment, Azriel running to the door as you stood behind him.

You heard the faint voices of Mor and Feyre, and then Cassian was dragging in a near-dead Rhysand. You despised the way your heart stopped at how he looked, the decades of your love for him making his pain your pain. Azriel helped Cassian pull him onto the couch as you hurried to the kitchen, grabbing any healing supplies you could find.

You ran back to the injured male on the couch, kneeling down next to him as you assessed what had happened. Azriel and Cassian shifted behind you, upset at the state of their brother and unsure what to do. “Go,” you told them, “stand outside. Watch for anyone coming. I can handle him.” The pair nodded at your command, following each other out the door. You knew their anxieties would only make this harder, and sending them outside to pretend to do a task would make everyone’s lives easier.

You undid Rhysands shirt, pulling the blood-soaked fabric off of him. He groaned at your touch, eyes rolling back into his head. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, focusing on the injuries in front of you. You took out a warm washcloth and began dabbing the blood away, trying to find where each wound began and end. You had trained in some healing techniques long ago, a useful tool when you married an Illyrian.

You had been in similar situations, cleaning blood and stitching up your husbands wounds. This time was drastically different, and not just due to the fact you weren’t really together anymore. He was quiet. In the past even his worst injuries he had joked through, lightening the mood as you worked on him. Now, he had nothing to say. He wouldn’t even open his eyes or acknowledge what you were doing. It was like something had been sucked out of him, something had destroyed him.

You finished stitching what you could before moving to his wings. “Rhys,” you said, “I am going to have to touch your wings to help you. Is that okay?” You knew he didn’t deserve this kind of respect from you, not after what he had done. You didn’t need to ask his permission to touch the soft leather you knew all too well. Yet something told you that this moment was not the one to start acting on your hurt and anger.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, hollow. His eyes stayed closed as you washed his wings with the rag, tears pricking your eyes at the deep slashes through them. You knew how much an Illyrians wings meant to them, how devastating it would be for them to be taken away. You were gentle with them, heart heavy as moans of pain came from Rhysand. You took your time making the stitches as even as possible, spreading a healing balm over them when you were finished. The last thing you did was pull out a roll of bandages, going back over all the wounds you had stitched up. With his fae healing he should be fine in a matter of days, but until then he would be forced to rest.

You had just finished placing the last bandage when his hand shot out for your arm. You startled at his touch, looking up into his now-open eyes. He was staring down at where his hand rested on your elbow, pressing your forearms together. You looked down as well, taking in the sight of your matching marital tattoos. “What I have done is unforgivable,” he murmured, hand tightening on your arm. You were inclined to agree, and you probably would have torn your arm out of his grasp and left in any other situation. The male in front of you now bore no resemblance to the cruel Rhysand of the past few months.

“Perhaps not unforgivable,” you gave, trying to ease his pain in any way. Your gaze caught his, taken aback by the tears lingering in his eyes.

“Do not lie to me to try to preserve my feelings.” His voice was thick, on the verge of tears. “I have treated you in terrible ways. I have said and done truly awful things to you.” He looked down at his chest, at the bandages cleanly placed there. “And yet here you are, tending to me as wonderfully as ever. I never deserved you.”

You sighed. “No, you didn’t.” His head shot back up to you as you pulled your arm from him, cleaning the healing supplies up. “However, that does not change what was done. What we had, once upon a time. Can you truly tell me it was all a lie?” There it was. The question that had been haunting you for months.

He took his time to respond, the silence taking over the room. You carried the remaining bandages and healing balm into the kitchen, putting them away while your question hung heavy in the air. Minutes passed while you cleaned, broken only by the sound of Rhysand’s struggling breaths.

“She’s going to reject the bond,” he finally said, avoiding the question. Your movements stilled, not quite expecting that. “She did enough to keep me alive before dropping me here and disappearing.” Truth be told, you couldn’t blame her. You washed your hands, drying them slowly on a towel.

“So she knows?” You asked, understanding that he must have told her. You walked back to the couch, looking down at him. He nodded, avoiding your gaze.

“She trapped a Suriel, to try to find a way to heal me. It told her. She’s angry that I would hide it.” You gave a humorless laugh, kneeling back down next to him.

“For the most powerful High Lord of all time, you certainly are also the dumbest.” Your blunt words shocked him, making him look back at you.

“W-what?” He sputtered out, not used to you talking to him like that.

“Rhys, please. She is your mate, is she not? You have already devoted yourself completely to her, something she had to have noticed months ago.” You sighed, pulling his hand into yours. “She will come around. Give her time.”

He held on tight to you, the ends of your tattoo lining up perfectly when your hands were connected. That was how it was made to me, to show the unbroken love between the two of you. The love that was now shattered into a million minuscule pieces.

“Remove this bond, Rhysand. It does you no good being tied to me like this.” You knew he still may not agree, that you didn’t not know his true motives behind keeping you around. However, you weren’t sure if there would ever be another chance to ask. When he was vulnerable enough to be kind.

You were pleasantly surprised when he nodded, thumb stroking over your hand one last time before he let go. “Okay,” he agreed, voice weak. “I’ll summon a priestess.” You nodded, standing from your spot next to him.

“Rest now, Rhys.”

***

You found Azriel and Cassian outside, sparring to relieve the tension. They stopped when they saw you, rushing over to ask how Rhysand was. You raised your hands, silencing them before they could even speak. “He will be fine,” you assured. “Feyre found out about the mating bond.”

“Feyre did that?!” Cassian asked in disbelief, eyes wide. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped at his shock, shaking your head.

“No, no, she found out while trying to heal him. Where is she?” You looked around the two males in front of you, catching no sight of her.

“She asked Mor to take her somewhere far away. Where Rhys wouldn’t bother her,” Azriel explained. You can’t help but wish you had thought of doing that.

“I see. He is resting now, but you may come back in.” You opened the door for the two, Mor winnowing back at the same moment. She pushed past you to get to Rhysand, demanding to know what happened. You don’t try to stop her. While you could feel bad for his current state, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed seeing him get a little taste of his own medicine.

You grabbed the book you had discarded and headed upstairs, mind heavy with the thoughts of your conversation with Rhysand. You were concerned he was only being nice due to the possibility of Feyre rejecting the bond, and where that would leave him. A beat of fear ran through you at the thought of Feyre rejecting him, and he decided to turn back to you. You shook your head as you pushed open the door to the room you were staying in, banishing that idea from your mind. You would never let that happen.

***

You had fallen asleep while reading, waking up with a sore neck and a rumbling stomach. You slept right through dinner, if it was even had. You stood from the bed, walking slowly to the door. You cracked it open and listen for any sounds of life before deciding to sneak downstairs to grab something to eat. You rubbed your neck as you made your way down, regretting falling asleep at such an awkward angle.

You enter the dimly lit kitchen, catching sight of Rhysand asleep on the couch in the living room. You say a silent prayer to the Mother that he stays that way. One interaction with him is enough for the day. You turn your back on the sleeping male and browse the cabinets for an easy meal. You begin to reach up for a pack of crackers when a cool shadow brushes against your waist. You smile down at the thing, wondering if Azriel knows one is out.

Your question is quickly answered when a hard body presses against your back, an arm reaching over your head to pull the crackers down for you. You turn your head to smile at your friend, a little surprised to find his face so close to yours. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, the other landing on the countertop in front of you. “Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, voice low as to not disturb the High Lord only feet away.

You shake your head, a bit lost in his eyes and his proximity. You turn so you are facing him, hands coming up to rest comfortably on his chest. “Midnight snack?” You tease, gesturing to the crackers he had grabbed for you. His eyes darken and shadows swirl around you.

“Something like that,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you. Your heart is ready to rocket out of your chest, knowing Rhysand could wake up any second and catch you.

“Azriel,” you whisper, glancing at his lips. You should stop this, push him off and run back to your room. You shouldn’t allow his hand to move up to your neck, a long finger angling your head up to him while his thumb rests on your throat. You shouldn’t allow your arms to wrap around his neck, hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You definitely shouldn’t lean up and kiss him.

You no longer cared as Azriel’s lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, hesitant. You could feel in the unnatural stiffness of his body that he was holding back, allowing you to decide what happens. You pull him even closer to you, increasing the speed and passion of the kiss. Your body melts into his, the hand on your waist wrapping around and splaying across your lower back. Your hand slid up his head, tangling itself into his soft hair. You opened your mouth for him, needing him in every way. You gasped as he lifted you up onto the counter, pushing your nightgown up to step between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer, closer, closer.

He groaned into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip. The hand on your back dropped to your thigh, running up and down the exposed skin. His shadows were twirling around your ankles, your arms, your hair. Everything about him was intoxicating. He pulled away from your lips, traveling down to kiss and suck on your neck. You moaned lightly as the hand on your neck dropped, fingers sliding ever so slightly under the top of your gown. “Azriel,” you breathed, arching into his touch. He growled against your skin, placing a harsh bite in a spot anyone could see.

Not that you particularly cared.

Your hips pushed against his, desperate for him. Your mind was a blaze of lust, of need, and it could only be sated by him. His fingers dug into the top of your thigh at your movement, a warning to think before you did that again. His lips came back up to yours, kissing you so hard you were sure you would bruise. You felt something cold brush against your heat, an almost embarrassing whimper coming from you. “They want to touch,” Azriel said, his voice deep. You moaned when the shadow ran against you again, teasing the edge of your underwear. “Would you like them to touch, my love?”

He was going to be your undoing.

“Yes,” you gasped out, the shadow delving to where you needed it most. You bit hard onto Azriel’s shoulder to muffle your moan, pleasure radiating through your body. He resumed the kissing and sucking on your neck, hand fully sliding down under your top to cup one of your breasts. You dug your nails into his back, the sensations overwhelming. His thumb ran over your nipple as his shadow gave a delicious twist against you, cries falling from your lips. He pulled his hand out of your nightgown to bring your head to his again, lips silencing the noises coming from you.

The shadow began vibrating against you, your legs falling open to allow it more access. You felt the cool breeze of another one dip inside you, Azriel’s hand on your thigh keeping you available to them. You shook against him, moaning his name into his mouth as he kissed you. You felt the shadow push in farther, the sensation unlike any you had experienced. It stretched you open delightfully, it’s twin increasing the speed against you. You bit down on Azriel’s lip, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. His nails raked down your thigh at the pain and pleasure as you licked over the wound you had made.

You were close, too close. You didn’t want this moment to end, but the shadows seemed to sense the tightening in your body. They held their current speed and movements, bringing you to the edge. You arched against Azriel, head falling back against the cabinets as stars exploded behind your eyes. You shook against him, his shadows working you through the last bit of your release. He hummed in satisfaction as he watched your mouth drop in a silent scream, the sight one he had dreamed about for far too long.

He called the shadows back when he could tell your mind was blank with overstimulation, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. You brought your head back down, glassy eyes looking up at the Shadowsinger. Rhysand had never made you feel that good, and Azriel hadn’t even touched you yet. He smiled at you, brushing your tangled hair back. He took in your swollen lips, spit and a hint of blood glistening on them. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever seen in that moment.

“What are you doing with my wife, Brother?”

***

This is my favorite chapter so far 🫣 Please let me know what you guys think !!!!! I LOVE hearing your thoughts on this story <3

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters @mybestfriendmademe @thaynarajejheje @brujitafantomatico @justdreamstars @thisblogisaboutabook @lees-chaotic-brain @abeltownshipslittlebitch @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fxckmiup p @its-sam-allgood @miluiel1 @nickishadow139 @hailqueenconquer @mika-no-sekai-blog @books-hlmc @stonerpersona @starsinyourseyes @meshellexplosionmurder @acourtofbatboydreams @captainsbaby

*crossed out users it wouldn’t let me tag :(

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #love and loss

402 notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 26 days

Text

Perfect Night (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Author's note: World Tour announcement when? In all seriousness where has this Sakura Miyawki been and how do I get more of her? She killed it and me a little bit

After their fiery performance, the fimmies arrived back in their hotel. Not long after arriving Yunjen called Porter, Chaewon called Aaron and Sakura texted Daigo. Luckily for them, they were all on the same ride together. When they received messages from their significant others. Kura’s message was especially hot to Daigo,

“Did you like the performance,” Kura asked in the text but along with that was a picture of her in a more than flattering situation. She hoped that Daigo would be feral for her when she got there. What she didn't know was he already was.

Daigo was barely keeping his composure as images of what he would do to Kura swam through his mind during her entire Coachella performance. He had never seen her so at ease, so powerful, so sexy, so comfortable on stage before…well as long as he knew her. She may have wanted to kiss everybody, but he wanted to kiss her everywhere. To stay composed he stayed eerily silent to Porter and Aaron, which they noticed. they figured he was in contemplation gearing up for this night…he was just not in the ways they were thinking. The trio arrives at the hotel and takes the elevator up. Daigo carried the cooler his silence persisted which began to worry his friends until right before the trio entered.

"Oh unnies it's just the boys," Eunchae said as she opened the door. The trio walked in and sat next to their respective fimmy. Daigo leaned back and crossed his arms. as he sat next to Kura after placing the cooler by the front door. Kkura looked at him trying to get a read on him but he was stone-faced. He was barely containing himself near her.

"So what did you guys think," Yunjin asked courageously, "Did we do fantastic or what?"

"Oh you all did stellar," Aaron said first before he squeezed Chaewon tightly. Chaewon did her signature nose scrunch and smiled at her boyfriend. Connor was quick to jump and affirm Connor's statement. All that was left was Daigo who was sitting next to Kkura he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"I am mad. you let your company have you sing in all these high registers, and try to make y'all look bad on awards shows and live performances, but you come to my home, and not only do you guys sound amazing. You put on probably one of the best live performances I have ever seen. So I am heated because y'all have been holding out on me, and you (He's pointing to Sakura) when did you become so sexy Mrs "Cute Little Voice Idol"? you owned that stage. (to the rest of the fimmies) I mean you all did, but you (Back to Sakura) for all the times you talked to me about not wanting the spotlight and wanting to fade away you very clearly blossomed today." Daigo said. Sakura looked at him surprised. As he spoke. she waited for him to say something mean, but when she processed what he said she realized that every word was genuine and he was impressed and enamored with her.

"You liked it," Sakura asked worried.

"Like it? I loved it," Daigo said in a pitch that Sakura heard very rarely from him. "I got to see my bre... my best girl shows the world why she is a borne idol after years of being verbally abused and criticized. Sakura blushed at Daigo's response, his tone was reminiscent of their more private activities and began to arouse her mirroring what she did to him earlier in the night. she also chuckled at his almost slip-up. He was ready for her and she just needed to pull the trigger.

"Oh, I am so glad. You liked it. When you walked in and were silent I was worried you hated it and were mad at us," Yunjin said relieved

"I did, and I am mad. You guys have been holding out. It isn't y'all fault because you are bound by K-pop's rules but tonight was bullshit. Y'all did great and I know it's not going to be an every-performance thing," Daigo lamented. which caused Chaewon, Eunchae, and Kazuha to laugh

"Why don't you think so," Sakura said in a tone similar to their more intimate activities.

"Because the K-pop system demands conformity, and the show you put on tonight was not "K-pop" but to me, you all have never been a K-pop group," Daigo explains. Yunjin clapped for Daigo as someone finally saw Le Sserafim as she saw it. Le Sserafim was a Korean group but not a Korean Pop girl group. Daigo not understanding took it in stride, Sakura on the other hand felt her possessive Lioness rise inside her and grabbed Daigo violently to sit him back down. Jen noticed this and decided to finally press the issue.

"Kkura unnie. when are you finally going to wife Daigo up? He loves you more than anything," Daigo and Kura reeled at Yunjin's blunt statement while Porter, Aaron, and the rest of the Fimmies laughed in joy. Kura's eyes narrowed and dragged Daigo with her to her room.

"Wait Kkura," Daigo said before reaching into the cooler and picking out some sandwiches and Angma Soju he got for the of Age fimmies. Sakura smiled when he followed her. Sakura opened the door and when she secured her "prey" she closed the door and locked it. Daigo set the Alcohol down and chose to sit on the bed as he gazed at Kkura. She was trying to hide her hungered gazes towards him.

“You aren't actually mad at me right,” Sakura asked. Her eyes were soft and kind the fire of a few moments ago a distant memory.

Seeing Kura’s current affection softened Daigo’s impassioned heart. Feeling his bravery and passion dissipate from him Daigo turned timid once more. “I could never be mad at you. Just a little miffed because of how you let people talk to you that way,”

Sakura relented and then asked a question that had been plaguing her. “Why do you like me so much,”

Daigo saw the weariness in Sakura’s eyes. It pained him. So he told her the truth.

“Well, my crush started because we were similar in age and experience. You've had tremendous pressure on you since you were like what 12? I related to that. (not to the sheer scale but you get the idea) so anytime I'd hear you talk about the situations you found yourself in and just found myself endeared to you,” Daigo explained plainly and Kura gave him a sweet smile. Seeing her so happy Daigo replied with a question of his own.

“Can you explain the ninja comment?”

Sakura burst into laughter and knowing her friend she decided a display would explain. She did 6 hand signs then several duplicates of her appeared in front of a startled Daigo.

“Oh okay,” Daigo said as he processed what was going on.

“Wait you're not freaking out,” Sakura replied

“Well, this you being a ninja magic girl isn't the weirdest thing in my life. Plus if you comfortable revealing this to me. I need to be mature enough to see it,” Daigo explained casually. Sakura laughed at the calm and collected Daigo she knew.

“Now if you are going to tell me I have to fight in some ninja battle royal tournament thing to date you that would be something I'd freak out over but for different reasons,”

Sakura laughed until she noticed Daigo’s serious expression, “why,” she asked

Daigo sighed before he explained, “I am a pacifist.” Kkura smiled

“Oh I like it, but why,” she asked

“I have issues with self-control especially when it comes to anger, violence, and moderation. So I avoid it at every cost,” Sakura laughed and countered by saying,

“Yet you play violent video games?” Daigo laughed before replying realizing he had been caught

“Well, I still get angry and have hostility burn within me. so I need a space to put that so I don't snap and become a serial killer,” Sakura heard that and smiled before laughing harder.

“You are so dramatic,” she teased. Daigo smiled as usual Sakura knew the exact words and tone to put him at ease with her.

Kkura dismissed her multitude of clones as she sat next to Daigo. She put her hand on top of his and felt a proud feeling of ownership. She knew Daigo was hers and that gave her more confidence than she realized. In his support she found strength. She leaned into him and the two fell asleep exhausted.

The next day Daigo woke up to a Sakura chatting with a male voice. At first, he was on alert until he heard the Kkura was fine.

“Sakura you can't keep this fling with Daigo up,” the male voice said

“It's not a fling I truly like him and he feels the same,”

“But if what you've told me is true he's not ready to deal with your life as a star or as the heir of the Miyawaki clan. You don't want him getting hurt do you,”

“I’ll protect him,” Sakura said as a hint of possessiveness crept into her voice. Daigo was her stud and she'd be damned if she was going to lose him.

“Don't let your lust or your feelings cloud your judgment. He's not the one. He's just some guy you played games with,” the man’s voice says aggressively.

“Yeah and do you know what he did for me? He's always been encouraging and helpful to me. He has always supported me listened to all of my songs and believed in me even when I couldn't. I'm not getting that anywhere else so no I'm not leaving him,” Sakura asserted.

“And what makes him so special huh? He's a coward who needs you to prop him up. He's a leech. He's going to suck you dry because he's attracted to the glitz and the glam and when it's gone he will leave,” the young man said. Something about leaving Kura rubbed Daigo the wrong way.

Daigo listened and he felt a feeling he hadn't felt In a while. A cold rage possessed him as he tried to stay in control. It was a palpable emotion as Sakura and Tobi (the guy she was arguing with felt the room’s temperature drop 4 degrees.” Sakura shivered as did Tobi. Daigo meanwhile got up undeterred and Tobi saw Daigo for the first time and his eyes went wide. See Daigo wasn't typically menacing in his presence but at that time Tobi saw Daigo not as Kura’s goofy fling but as something else. It frightened him. So he performed the better part of valor and ran away from this confrontation. Sakura turned around and was happy to see Daigo. As he got closer to her she felt his warmth as the room went back to its normal temperature.

“Hey Stud how are you,” Sakura asked in her deep sexy tone. She smiled as she watched Daigo grow hard under her gaze and voice. “Oh someone's excited,” she said with a bigger smile. Daigo approaches her and closes the door. Sakura smiles and kisses him deeply. Daigo can feel Sakura’s desire and is almost ready to succumb to it but he needs to make sure everything is alright.

“Hey Kkura what was all that about,” he asks trying to maintain his composure. Sakura feeling more aroused with each passing moment can't wait as she pulls down her pants revealing her bare pussy.

“It's nothing stud, but I need your help,” she says as she guides Daigo down she nudges his face to her core and whimpers when she feels his breath against her skin. Daigo gives in to her and dives into her pussy. Sakura moans lewdly as Daigo takes his first long and slow lick. The next lick is more intentional a long figure 8 around Kkura’s clit. Daigo has never done this before, so the actions send a jolt through her body. Kura looks down to see an extremely pussy drunk Daigo. She moans as Daigo breathes in her arousal and his mind goes blank. His only thoughts are of pleasing and breeding his preferred mate. He does another lick around her clit before going lower to Kkura’s leaking pussy. He laps up her juice and savors her taste. It's sweet like cake frosting almost. Sakura shudders at Daigo’s ministrations. Sakura smiles watching her stud lose himself. As he dives deeper into her sex she mewls at his enthusiasm until it becomes too much for her and she explodes all over Daigo’s face. Sakura’s high is abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door. She whines as she tries to sober her pussy drunk stud.

“We have time,” Daigo insists, and as much as Sakura wants to let him continue. She needs him to stop.

“No stud it's probably the girls and you know I still have responsibilities, we all can't take a week off,” Sakura chided

“Well excuse me for wanting to give you my undivided attention,” Daigo teased Sakura laughed Before having him go start a shower,

“Oh am I your servant now,” Daigo replied.

“No, but I figured you'd a little bit more time with me,” Sakura pouted as she replied. Daigo smile.

“You should have led with that,” he said and Sakura laughed Before brushing him off.

Sakura gets ready and opens the doors it's the rest of the Fimmies.

“We have 15 minutes until we need to go do schedules,” Chaewon said.

“Okay,” Sakura replied trying to hold in her frustration.

“Hey, where's Daigo oppa?” Eunchae asks

“He is getting the shower ready for me before we go,” Sakura replied. Jen having her a knowing look which Sakura glared at. The girls left her alone after that. Sakura groaned. She wanted to do nothing but quilt play games and fuck her stud’s brain out an make him a dumb little fucktoy for her today, but alas she had responsibilities. She walks into the shower and strips to an excited Daigo.

“Sorry stud we have to be quick so let's get clean and you gotta go okay?” Daigo was bummed but understood.

So the duo shared a quick and chaste shower before leaving. Daigo gave Sakura an innocent peck on the cheek before saying, “don't go kissing everybody,” he teased. Sakura smiled and said

“I won't babe.” she kissed him back and said “tonight I am going to drain those balls.” Daigo laughed as he opened the door for her.

When they got to the lobby the other fimmies, Aaron and Porter were waiting for them. The boys bid them farewell and watched as they left. Daigo excused himself to go to the bathroom.

As he was finishing up a young man approached him. He eyed the young man suspiciously (he was suspicious of everyone) as he was making a move to leave 4 other similarly dressed men surrounded him. Daigo got in a fighting ready stance before he felt a hard presence on his neck before everything went black.

“Target secured,” the young man said

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #miyawaki sakura #lesserafim smut #sakura smut #izone sakura

255 notes · View notes

swordsandholly · 19 days

Text

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

399 notes · View notes

strangersmunsons · 2 months

Text

read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.”

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?”

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone.

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake.

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies.

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you.

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross.

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers.

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away.

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here?

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?”

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory.

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand.

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them.

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill.

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.”

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant.

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you.

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks.

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship.

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him.

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie.

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table.

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face.

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right.

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today.

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores.

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.”

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him.

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!! <3 Read Ch. 5 -> Here!

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

274 notes · View notes

punkshort · 5 months

Text

look what we've become - ch.4

Chapter Summary: You finally get a chance to talk things out with Joel, but when you volunteer to take Ellie back to her family, it causes more tension.

Chapter Warnings: language, talk of parental death, discussions of pregnancy and marriage, brief mention of slavery, angst, Ellie being a cockblock, Joel is a little mean at the very end

WC: 8K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was the end of August, and it felt like the summer saved the worst for last. The heat from the sun laid over the town like a thick blanket, making it nearly difficult to breathe when you were working, forcing you to take more breaks than usual. Working outside in the garden attached to the greenhouse was actually more comfortable than being inside the building itself, the humidity so stifling you could almost reach out and touch it, but you still chose to take your breaks inside. Right in front of the little oscillating fan. Pulling your hair off your neck, you ran a damp cloth across your neck and chest, collecting all the sweat that had accumulated there as the weak breeze from the fan dried your skin.

You were alone at work all week. A bitter part of you thought it fitting, considering how lonely you felt at home, too. But it afforded you a lot of time to think. And cry. But eventually, the tears stopped, your body too depleted and your head too sore to keep it up. Now all that was left was the loneliness and the guilt. The more you replayed that day in your mind, the worse you felt. The look on his face and the way he tried to hold back his tears haunted you at every turn. The pain in his voice, pain that you caused, unforgettable.

And you deserved it, the way he left. You deserved so much worse. He did so much for you, and this was how you repaid him? He saved you, time and time again. He found Jackson, he built you a home, built you a life. And he hardly asked for anything in return.

It shouldn't have come to this. You should have been an adult, talked to him before it was too late, discussed your plans for the future. But how could you be expected to, when you lived in a world where a future was hardly a guarantee?

It surprised you that he even wanted anything to do with you after that night. That he even bothered to ask if you still wanted him, shocked he would still want you. Of course, you told him you wanted him. You did want him. You loved him more than anything, but you didn't feel deserving of him. Not after the way you treated him. He deserved so much better.

And you felt so fucking selfish for keeping him. For breaking his heart, and then begging him to stay.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to him when he returned. That is, if he even wanted to talk. To tell him everything, put it all on the table and let him decide. You owed him that much.

When Jesse and Jake returned without him, your heart sank. You thought the worst. Standing at the gate with Maria on your one side and Carrie on the other, waiting for him to appear. Maria thought the worst, too. You felt it when she clutched your hand, after Carrie ran to hug Jake and you both watched them joyfully reunite, neither of you wanting to ask, afraid of the answer. To his credit, Jesse told you the story the moment he made his way through the small crowd of welcomers, instantly flooding you with relief.

It was really only a minute, maybe two, where you thought you lost him. The last conversation you had wouldn't be the last words he heard from you. But for that minute or two, your world stopped, you forgot how to breathe, and your only thought was - my life is over, I can't go on, I'll never experience a shred of happiness again.

So, yes. When he came home, you needed to do whatever you possibly could to fix the wound you caused. Because what you had was worth fighting for.

You stood, mustering the energy to get through the next couple hours before you could head back home when the greenhouse door swung open and shut very quickly, taking you off guard. You glanced up, not noticing anyone at first, and wondered if you imagined it before you saw the top of a girl's head bobbing along one of the aisles slowly, admiring the various plants and flowers that were so tall at this point in the season, it resembled a jungle.

"Hello?" you called out, craning your neck down the aisle. You made eye contact with the girl, one you didn't recognize, and she froze, staring at you with eyes widened, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the building.

Frowning, you began to walk towards her, but stopped when she looked like she was ready to bolt back out the door.

"It's alright," you said, holding your hands up to her. "What's your name?"

Her gaze shifted back and forth quickly between your eyes, examining you carefully before answering.

"Ellie."

"Hi, Ellie. Are you- is your mom or dad around?" you asked, lowering your hands. She shook her head.

"They're dead," she replied flatly, and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Mine are, too."

She looked at you differently now, more with curiosity than fear. Taking a couple steps forward, with her finger trailing gently along the plants that hung over the side of the tables, she came closer to the end of the aisle, where you stood in front of your workstation.

"Yeah?" she asked, and you nodded. "Before or after?"

"After," you told her.

"Mine, too," Ellie replied, her voice laced with sadness.

You stared at one another for a few moments, both wondering what the other was going to do next. You knew Ellie didn't belong there, that she was trying to hide, and she knew you figured that out already.

"It really fucking sucked," you finally said, and her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small smile before replying.

"Yeah, it did really fucking suck," she said, and you both giggled simultaneously.

You were about to offer her some water, noting she was wearing long sleeves on such a hot day, when the door burst open once again, startling you both. Tommy pushed inside and glanced around, his eyes immediately landing on Ellie, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

"In here!" Tommy called out through the open door. And it all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to process that if Tommy was home, then so was-

"Joel," you said softly to yourself when your eyes fell on his familiar, broad frame entering the building. He looked at you first before allowing his gaze to drift to Ellie, his brow furrowing with annoyance, then back to you. You swallowed roughly, and you heard Ellie curse under her breath next to you.

"Oh, great," she muttered, and you tore your eyes away from him to look at her now, for the first time putting the pieces together. This must be the girl Jesse told you they were taking to another camp in exchange for medicine.

"What're you thinkin', runnin' off like that?" Tommy said to Ellie, walking down the aisle towards her. You could feel Joel's eyes on you from where he stood by the door as you looked at Tommy questioningly.

"What's going on?" you asked. "I thought Jesse said you were taking her to another settlement?"

"Change of plans," was all Tommy offered, reaching his arm out and motioning for Ellie to step forward and follow him.

"She's staying?"

"Not for long," Joel finally said as he narrowed his eyes at Ellie.

"C'mon, you can stay with one of the teachers in town til we can get you back home," Tommy told her, sounding tired. Ellie followed behind Tommy slowly, admiring the plants as she walked.

"You're taking her back to her home?" you asked, following behind them.

"Yeah, no thanks to Joel," she said with a sneer as she walked by him. He rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, allowing Tommy and Ellie to exit.

"Will you two give it a rest? Goddamn, enough is enough," Tommy said, sounding like he was scolding two children. But before you could ask more questions, they were gone, leaving just you and Joel.

You looked at him, your fingers nervously fidgeting, tangling together. Now that he was right in front of you, you realized you had no idea what you were going to say. No rehearsed speech. And the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like you kicked a puppy, his big, brown eyes wide with lingering pain, and the knot in your stomach tightened. Taking a shaky breath in, you straightened your posture, trying to summon some confidence, but failing.

"Did'ya move out?" he asked, breaking the silence, fists flexing at his sides.

"What?" you asked softly, your brows knit. "No, of course not." He exhaled loudly, like he had been holding his breath waiting for your answer.

"Do you... want me to?" you asked him, casting your eyes down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye if the answer was yes.

"No," he said simply, and you nodded, relief washing over you, eyes still glued to the floor.

The heat was becoming unbearable in the greenhouse now that you weren't directly in front of the fan. You dragged your eyes back up to Joel and noticed his shirt was already damp and his face was flushed, sweat trickling from his hairline down the side of his head.

"I have a couple more hours here, but after, did you want to talk?" you asked, chewing on your lip. He stared at you, his eyes wide, jaw tense, body rigid, and he nodded. Other than still looking hurt, he was impossible to read.

"Okay," you said softly, looking away and turning to pick up your bucket of tools and gloves from the ground. When you straightened back up, you were shocked to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your tools in favor of circling your arms around his waist. You inhaled deeply, missing everything about him: his scent, his warmth, his touch, his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, you could feel it fluttering against your cheek, and you squeezed him even tighter, not even caring about the heat anymore.

His arms loosened and you opened your eyes again, allowing him to take a step back so you could look up at him.

"Joel," you whispered, reaching a hand up to his jaw, but he took another step backwards, clearing his throat.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, then quickly pushed the door open, disappearing and leaving you all alone with your heart stuck in your throat and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He was relieved when he finally made his way home and confirmed with his own eyes that you didn't move your things out of the house. Back when he hurt Jake, he came home to find you in the middle of packing all your things, leaving him in agony for four excruciating months.

Dropping his gear by the front door, he dragged himself up the steps, wincing at the pain in his back and hips from the past several days on horseback, until he reached the shower. The heat from the water helped the ache in his bones, but he still popped two ibuprofen. He hardly slept well on these trips, his body not used to sleeping on the forest floor anymore, so the urge to collapse into bed was strong, but he fought it.

He wandered down to the kitchen in search of food, and finding some leftovers in the fridge, ate over the sink as he stared out the window, his mind reeling. He spent the entire trip wondering what was going through your head, and he was determined to find out.

Pacing around the house, he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stay busy, trying not to let his anxiety squeeze his chest like it used to. His panic attacks had gotten much better over the past couple years, but he still had moments here and there that brought him to his knees. Usually, you were there to help, to talk him through it. To help ground him.

When you arrived home, he had your kitchen table upside down, the four legs sticking straight up in the air with tools scattered on the floor around him. His back was hunched over as he twisted a screwdriver into the wood firmly with a grunt, then sat back on his heels to give the leg a shake, testing for any movement before standing up with a sigh. Turning around, he froze when he realized you had been leaning up against the wall, quietly watching him work.

"Didn't hear you come in," he said, scooping down to collect his tools and putting them back in his toolbox, one by one.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, and you could feel your pulse quickening as your nerves settled in.

"Fixin' the table, been wobbly for weeks," he muttered, and you nodded as if you had any clue what he was talking about, fairly certain that he was just looking for something to do to occupy his time. He locked his toolbox and put it on one of the kitchen chairs before running his fingers through his hair roughly and turning back around to face you.

"Is it me?" he asked bluntly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No!" you told him immediately, and pushed off the wall to close the gap, about to reach out to him, but hesitated. "It's absolutely not you," you confirmed again.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, chest rising and falling faster than normal as he stared at you, his forehead crinkled with worry.

"It's me," you said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm scared, Joel."

"What's there to be scared about?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands itching to reach out and hold you, to prove there was nothing to fear.

"Everything!" you said, exasperated. "Look around! We barely survived this, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. But to have a baby? A helpless, little baby who doesn't understand they need to be quiet if we are in danger, who wouldn't have access to the medical care you and I had when we were little-"

"These new people have tons of medicine," he told you, shaking his head. "Whatever a baby would need, I can get."

"Okay, fine. But the rest, Joel... if we had a baby and something happened to this place... to us-" your voice caught in your throat at the thought of a baby being orphaned, all alone and scared. Then your mind drifted to your conversation with Ellie, the perfect example of a child abandoned, left to depend on strangers to take care of her.

It seemed as though Joel either made the same connection, or finally understood your fears, because he sighed and hung his head.

"Alright," he agreed, shoulders sagging.

"Joel, if a child is something you really want, it's not fair for me to stop you from doing that," you said, blinking away the tears.

"I don't want a kid unless it's with you!" he said angrily, turning away so he could pace around the kitchen. "Quit sayin' shit like that."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, sitting down weakly in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at your hands in your lap. He sighed and stopped pacing, choosing instead to brace his hands on the kitchen island, staring at you from across the room.

"It's fine," he said unconvincingly.

"No, it's not," you said, looking up and calling out his lie. You could see the tension in his jaw from where you sat across the room, a muscle twitching under his patchy beard.

"No, it's not," he echoed in agreement. "But I'll get over it."

You weren't sure what to say after that. Part of you wanted to tell him again that he deserved everything he wanted out of life, and you felt so selfish for not feeling the same way, but you knew he would get angry if you suggested it again. So you remained silent, letting him work through his thoughts while you waited.

"And marriage?" he asked after a few minutes, trying to keep the hurt from his voice.

"I think I just need some time," you told him, feeling guilty enough for denying him a family.

"Okay," he said, looking down at his hands splayed on the counter. His face relaxed as he audibly exhaled, and you could tell your answer gave him a bit of relief.

"Are you sure it's okay?" you asked timidly, and he glanced back up at you.

"Yes," he said, pushing off the counter and rounding the island. He crouched down in front of you, still seated on the kitchen chair haphazardly placed in the middle of the room, the kitchen table still upturned. Taking your hands in his, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this," he told you softly, and you pressed your lips in a thin line to keep them from trembling.

"You promise?" you asked shakily, eyes watering, and he nodded.

"Promise," he said firmly. He reached up, fingers pinching your chin gently as you stared at one another before he tugged your face forward, pressing his lips softly against yours. You could tell he was trying, but you didn't feel the usual heat behind the kiss. It felt mechanical and distant, but when he pulled back, you forced a small smile, anyway.

Maybe you both just needed some time.

Tommy didn't waste any time. The very next day after arriving back in Jackson, he began to organize a group of men to go raid the neighboring police stations for guns and weapons, Joel included. The plan was to only be gone for one night, maybe two, which wasn't too bad, but considering the fragile state of your relationship, it made you uneasy.

You both went through the motions of your typical routine. Getting ready for work at the greenhouse while he repacked his bag with fresh clothes and food. The morning he left, he walked you to work like he normally would, neither of you hardly saying a word, both trying not to acknowledge the ripple of tension between you. He gave you a quick kiss, told you he would miss you, you told him to be safe, and you each went your separate ways.

You wished you had more time together before he had to leave again, maybe it would have made you feel better. Less anxious, less distracted, less questions. The first morning was spent rethinking everything the two of you said, every interaction. And you tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the first time in a very long time, you woke up without his arms around you. Instead, he was curled up on his side of the bed, not even facing your direction. So, when Ellie found her way back into the greenhouse that afternoon, you were grateful for the distraction.

"Hey," she said softly behind you, causing you to jump.

"Ellie! Hey, what are you up to?" you asked her, standing up with a grunt. You had been hunched over for too long, as evidenced by your spine crackling when you stretched.

"Nothing really," she said, glancing around at the plants. You noticed once again that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt.

"Did Julia offer you any new clothes?" you asked with a frown.

"Yep."

"Aren't you hot?"

"A little," she said with a shrug, and you decided to drop it when it became clear she wasn't going to offer more of an explanation.

The two of you spent the next couple hours occasionally chatting, but mostly sitting in a comfortable silence while you worked. Ellie would watch you and ask if you needed help, and to make her feel useful, you would ask her to get you a watering can, or a certain tool. She seemed to enjoy helping, noticing she became more relaxed as the afternoon wore on.

"You know, you're staying right across the street from my house," you told her as you began cleaning up.

"I know," she said, and you looked up at her, surprised.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you come home yesterday," she said, perched on top of your workstation, legs swinging back and forth.

"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?" you asked as you lifted your apron over your head to hang on the wall.

"Dunno. You seemed like you were in a rush."

She was perceptive. She didn't offer much about herself, but she seemed to read people very well. A byproduct of the last few years of her life, most likely.

"I know all this must be confusing for you," you said, leaning up against the workstation, crossing your arms. "But you can stop by my house anytime, alright? If you need anything, or just want to come hang out. Here, too. If you want."

"Yeah, okay," she said quickly, a small smile spreading across her face. "Thanks."

"You wanna walk with me back home?" you asked her, and she nodded, slipping down from the table and bouncing alongside you as you walked out of the building and back into the sweltering heat.

"How's it going over at Julia's?"

"It's fine," Ellie replied, kicking a small stone as you walked up the street together. "She's nice. But..."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, waiting for her to continue.

"She's old. And she's a little boring. Gave me a bedtime like I'm some little kid and made me say my prayers before dinner," she said.

"How old are you, anyway?" you inquired, realizing you never asked before.

"Almost fourteen."

"Yeah, that's a little old for a bedtime," you said, nodding in agreement as you approached your house. You stopped in the middle of the road, expecting Ellie to say her goodbyes and head over across the street, but she hesitated.

"You wanna grab dinner with me?" you asked her, and she looked up at you with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. You smiled back and jutted your chin towards Julia's house.

"Go tell her I'm taking you to the dining hall, I just want to change real quick and I'll meet you back out here."

"Okay!" Ellie replied, looking the most excited you'd seen her since you met.

After you cleaned yourself up, you stepped out of your door to find Ellie pushing herself back and forth on your swing at the end of the wraparound porch.

"Having fun?" you teased, and she jumped off the swing, sticking the landing and trotting over to you.

"Yeah, your house is really cool," she said, following you down the steps as you made your way to the center of town.

"Thanks. Joel built it for me. Well, the swing and porch, anyway."

"Joel?" she said questioningly, her nose scrunching up.

"Yeah, he was with the group-"

"I know who he is," she said, cutting you off and casting her eyes down to her feet. "Are you guys married or something?"

"Uh, no," you said, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. "But we're together."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. He just doesn't seem to like me much," she said with a shrug, but you could tell she was trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm sure that's not true. He doesn't even know you," you said, walking up the steps to the Tipsy Bison.

"Don't think that matters," she mumbled. "He didn't want to bring me here. Wanted to take me back to them."

Joel had briefly told you about Ellie's history with the Fireflies the night before, that Ellie was forced into slavery, but he failed to mention his own opinions about her.

"He's a good man. He's just got a lot going on lately," you said, hoping to leave it at that. Ellie eyed you curiously, but let it go, flopping down in a chair at an empty table, head swiveling around the room to check out all the people while you went to the bar to place an order with Seth. When you came back with your food, the dining room had grown more crowded, most of the tables already filled. Ellie's eyes lit up when you placed the tray of food down in front of her.

"Thanks! This place is so fucking cool," she said before digging into her food like it was her last meal.

"Yeah, we are really lucky," you agreed.

"Were you here when this place was built?" she asked you around a mouthful of food.

"Not at first," you said, then proceeded to tell her a bit of your own story. How you and Joel knew each other before the outbreak and you traveled across the country to try to find Tommy, never expecting to find him in the town you now called home. She nodded along eagerly, hanging on your every word and asking questions along the way. You chose to leave out a few parts to your story that a child shouldn't have to hear about, focusing more on how you both survived and depended on one another for safety, instead.

"Was he a dick before the outbreak, too?" she asked you after she had long finished up her dinner.

"Ellie!" you scolded her, but you smirked. "Actually... he was worse," you said, and you both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"No, seriously, he's not that bad. He comes off like he's all tough, but deep down he's a softie," you said. "There's a whole other side to him that's just..." you trailed off, your eyes glued to the table as you thought about Joel.

"Just what?" she asked, urging you to continue.

"Just really good. He's loving, and sweet, and caring. He would do anything for this town, puts himself at risk all the time, expects nothing in return," you said, realizing you were rambling, but Ellie didn't seem to mind. "I'm really lucky to have him."

Ellie looked at you for a few moments, studying your face as you struggled to hide your feelings. Rehashing everything that you love about Joel just made you feel even worse, wishing for the millionth time that you weren't so selfish, that you could give him what he wanted.

"You guys have been through some shit, huh?" she said, and you looked back up at her. Very perceptive.

"Yeah," you said softly, and that was all she needed to hear.

"Alright, then," she said dramatically, standing up from the table. "I guess I could give him another chance. For you."

"How generous of you," you joked, standing up as well and leading her to the exit. "If history is any indicator, Joel tends to need a couple chances before people start to like him."

You both laughed as you headed back down the street, the sun beginning to dip lower behind the houses. Ellie was in the middle of telling you about a comic book she was reading, enthusiastically acting out her favorite parts of the story, when you finally made it back home.

"Okay, kid. You should probably get home. It's close to your bedtime," you teased, and she scoffed at your joke, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, I guess I'll have to pick up where I left off tomorrow," she said, begrudgingly heading across the street to Julia's house.

And that was exactly what she did. You had been in the greenhouse for all of ten minutes before the door swung open and Ellie burst in, this time with her comic book in hand so she could read it out loud to you while you worked.

The entire second day Joel was gone, you spent with Ellie. You told her odd pieces of information about Jackson, she would read or quietly draw your plants on some crumpled loose leaf paper she had stuffed in her backpack, never really giving away much information about her own history. But you didn't mind. You knew if she ever wanted to share, she would do it in her own time. You just wondered how much time the two of you would have left.

Joel arrived back in Jackson early on the third day. You were surprised to hear your front door open as you were making yourself a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey, you're up early," you called over your shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"Already ate," Joel's deep voice rumbled somewhere behind you, and you spun around in surprise.

"You're back," you said, trying to get your bearings.

"Who'd you think it was?" he asked, dropping his backpack on top of the kitchen table.

"Ellie," you said, turning back to the stove to shuffle your eggs around in the pan.

"The kid?" he asked you, and you nodded.

"Yeah, she's been keeping me company the past couple days. She's really funny and smart," you said, turning the stove off and sliding your food onto a plate. You walked over to him, taking in his dirty clothes and face. Setting your plate down on the table, you took a step closer and hooked a finger into one of his beltloops. It wasn't lost on you that he neglected to greet you in his normal fashion. Accustomed to him wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a searing kiss, minimally.

"How'd it go?" you asked quietly, staring up at him, trying to read his face.

"Good," he said gruffly, seemingly unphased by your hand so close to his belt. "Got the guns. Tommy's gonna organize another trip back to the Fireflies to drop 'em off, tell 'em the kid ran off, and hope they let us keep the meds."

"Does that mean you're leaving again?" you asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

"No, he's gonna send some other guys. Said we earned a break," he said. His hands that would normally be all over you were shoved deep in his pockets.

"That's good, you need to relax," you said, bringing another finger up to hook into a beltloop. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach up and give him a soft kiss, one which he returned, but didn't deepen.

"You gotta get to work?" he mumbled, tipping his chin down to break the kiss. You shook your head.

"Day off," you whispered, trying to sound suggestive. "I can help you relax, if you want," you added. You felt nervous, your heart thumping loudly in your chest, not sure what he was thinking and afraid of being shot down.

He finally dragged his gaze back to you, and you swore you saw a familiar glint of lust flash across his dark eyes. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel less exposed.

"Maybe later. I gotta clean up," he said. You deflated a bit, but noticed he hadn't attempted to move away, so you tried again.

"I don't mind. I like it when you're dirty," you said, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and that seemed to do the trick. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath, his eyes falling to your lips. And finally, he dragged his hands out of his pockets to reach down and cup your ass, pulling you against him roughly with a grunt. You gasped when you felt the hard outline of his cock pressed against your stomach, then hungrily covered his mouth with yours, your tongue swirling around his as your hands left his belt to grip the dark curls at the base of his neck.

"Missed you," he mumbled against your mouth before greedily making his way to your neck, his fingertips digging into the plumpness of your ass.

"Me, too," you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head to the side, giving him better access.

"Ew, gross," you heard Ellie say, startling you both. You jumped away but Joel strategically stayed behind you, adjusting himself when Ellie wasn't looking.

"Whaddya want?" Joel asked roughly with a frown. Ellie plopped herself down in front of your abandoned plate of eggs and took a forkful before screwing her face up into a grimace.

"These are cold," she said, but continued to shovel more in her mouth, anyway.

"Good morning to you, too," you said to her before walking back over to the stove, heating up the pan to make more food.

"Morning," Ellie replied, mouth full of eggs.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?" Joel asked her, arms crossed over his chest. "Or to knock before bargin' into stranger's homes?"

"Nope," Ellie said with a smirk, and let her jaw fall open so Joel could see even more of her partially digested food. He made a face and rolled his eyes.

"Lovely," he said sarcastically, looking away.

"Besides, she's not a stranger," Ellie said, nodding in your direction. You smiled to yourself, your back to the pair of them, pleased that the girl found a friend in you after all she had been through.

Joel sighed and dropped his arms to his sides as he headed towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna go wash up, then we gotta meet Tommy and Maria at the town hall," he told you. You frowned, turning away from your eggs.

"What for?"

"Informal council meeting. To figure out how to get this one out of here," Joel replied, shooting a look at Ellie. Her chewing paused as she looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Oh. Right," you said with a nod as he headed up the stairs, the bedroom door shutting behind him.

"You're on the town council?" Ellie asked, and you shrugged, turning the burner off for the second time and sliding your eggs onto a new plate.

"Guess I am now," you said, and joined her at the table. You both chewed thoughtfully while you heard the shower turn on upstairs, right above your heads.

"What if I wanted to stay?" she asked you quietly, staring down at her eggs.

"I don't know, Ellie," you said with a sigh. You had a feeling this was coming.

"Can you try to convince them?" she asked you earnestly, looking up at you now. "If you're on the council, maybe you can tell them to let me stay."

You chewed on your lip, trying to figure out how to handle the delicate situation.

"It's complicated," you said. "They are lying to those people to protect you. If the Fireflies ever found out, it could be really bad."

She nodded solemnly and looked back down at her plate briefly before shoving it away and standing up.

"I should go," she said, avoiding your gaze as she headed toward the door. You stood up to follow her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," you said, and you really were. You didn't want to tell her that you wanted her to stay just as badly, that you didn't have any power to make that wish come true, that you were just another adult who failed her.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," she said over her shoulder as she swung the door open. "Thanks for breakfast," she added, jogging lightly down the steps and shoving her hands in her pockets as she headed back across the street.

You sat quietly at the conference table while Tommy went over the plan to return Ellie to her family. Someone must have asked her where she was from, because Tommy had a map spread out on the table with Phoenix, Arizona circled in red marker, his fingertip gently tracing up the map slowly until he found Jackson.

"Probably take a week to get there. Week to get back," he said, straightening up to look at the group. Besides you and Joel, Maria was also there, along with Bill, the town doctor, Eugene, and Claire, a high school teacher. "Figure it shouldn't take many people, I don't want to leave this place defenseless just in case this blows back on us."

"Who is going to take her, Tommy?" Claire asked, her glasses sliding down her nose as she leaned forward on the table.

"Me and Maria volunteer. I'll see if Jake's up for another trip, and maybe one more," he said, avoiding eye contact with Joel. You shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth to volunteer when Joel's head whipped towards you, shooting you a glare that said don't even think about it.

"I'll do it," Eugene said.

"I'll need another group to take the guns to the Fireflies, was kind of hopin' you might take the lead since you know 'em," Tommy replied, and the older man nodded.

"Wherever you need me," he said.

"I'll go with Eugene to take the guns," Joel offered, and you stiffened in your seat.

"Alright, maybe Jesse'll go with you and that should be enough. I oughta warn 'em we're comin'. I'll radio over later today, see if I can get ahold of Marlene, tell her the story," Tommy mumbled, jotting down a note for himself as he spoke. "I'll ask Carl to come with us to take Ellie."

You cleared your throat, drawing the table's attention.

"What if she stayed?" you asked, and Tommy paused for a moment, glancing at Joel before looking back at you. "What? Is it that absurd? She said she wants to stay, and that way we aren't risking the lives of four people to get her to Arizona safely."

"No, we would be riskin' the lives of the whole town if she stayed," Joel countered. "If those Fireflies ever find out we lied, we're fucked."

"He's right, darlin', I'm sorry," Tommy said. Maria cast you a sympathetic glance and you sighed.

At least you could say you tried.

They had agreed to disband each group in a couple days, allowing everyone a chance to rest up, as well as give Tommy an opportunity to touch base with the Fireflies over the radio.

Joel gripped your elbow once you were both far enough away from everyone as you made your way home, pulling you closer.

"You weren't about to volunteer to take that kid, were you? Tell me I'm crazy for thinkin' that," he muttered lowly next to you.

"I didn't volunteer, did I?" you shot back, not exactly answering the question, and he knew it, but he still released your arm. "Besides, you volunteered to take those guns to the Fireflies, when you just told me you weren't going. Like that isn't even more dangerous? What if they see right through this lie and do something?"

"That's different and y'know it," he said, and you scoffed.

"Right, because it's you," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"No, 'cause this needs to get done, and it needs to get done right. And I ain't riskin' my neck takin' that kid back to her family," he said, jaw clenching. "Neither of us are riskin' it. It was a mistake to bring her here in the first place."

You opened your mouth to argue back, but decided against it. He got what he wanted anyway: you were staying home. That aside, you could tell your relationship was still in a fragile state, and you weren't interested in making it any worse.

The next morning, you arrived at the greenhouse, leaving Joel behind in bed at home. He would typically walk you to work, but you wanted to make sure he got as much rest as possible before yet another journey outside the walls of Jackson. You were still disappointed that he volunteered for the task, especially after he told you he would stay home, and the insecure part of you wondered if he was trying to stay busy as a way of avoiding you.

It wasn't until closer to lunchtime that Ellie finally joined you at the greenhouse, much to your relief since you had become used to her being around to keep you company.

"Hey kid, where have you been all morning?" you asked her when she came in with no more than a silent nod in your direction as a greeting.

"Maria came by," she said, and you noticed right away her voice sounded distant. You stopped what you were doing so you could give her your full attention.

"She said I'm leaving in a few days, wanted specifics on where my aunt and uncle lived," she continued, and you nodded along, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. She was avoiding eye contact, focused entirely on her open backpack and rifling through her meager possessions.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I did try, you know, in the meeting. But it wasn't up for debate," you told her. She nodded in acknowledgement, still keeping her eyes cast down.

"I get it. I know there's some people who really don't want me here," she said, choosing not to name names, but you knew who she meant. "But at least we still have a week."

She must have noticed your silence because she finally glanced up at you.

"Maria said it will take a week to get me there. You are going, right?" she asked. Your face must have given you away because she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Are you fucking kidding me, man?"

"Ellie-"

"You have to come with me!" she pleaded now, her eyes wide. "Please!"

"I can't, I'm so sorry," you said, your heart breaking at the expression on her face. She stomped angrily across the room, tears welling up in her eyes as she gave you a firm shove, making you stumble back in surprise.

"Not fucking cool," she said, giving you another shove, nostrils flared. And then another. And another, until you were up against the wall and couldn't move backwards any further. Two tears fell down her cheeks and her fists were raised to pound on your chest out of frustration, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instead and pulled her in close for a hug, tears blurring your vision.

"I'm sorry," you repeated over and over as you held her in your arms, gently swaying back and forth as she cried silently against your chest.

"I need to tell you something," she said, pulling away and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But you need to promise not to tell anyone."

"What-"

"Promise me!" she yelled, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes.

"I promise," you told her. She looked at you for another minute, as if she were deciding whether or not to really tell you. She sighed, glancing back at the closed door once before pulling up the sleeve of her shirt.

You raced down the street, sweat collecting at the base of your neck and hairline, as you bobbed and weaved your way to Maria's house, hoping Tommy would be there. You could hardly think straight, the past thirty minutes completely sending you off the deep end. She's immune, she's immune, she's fucking immune.

Knocking erratically on the front door, you struggled to catch your breath, wiping the sweat away as best you could with your other hand while you waited impatiently for an answer. Just as you were about to start knocking again, the door swung open and Maria stood on the other side, giving you a confused look.

"Is Tommy here?" you gasped, and she nodded, her eyes widening at your demeanor and ushered you inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, and you nodded, glancing in the living room to find it empty before you headed to the kitchen. You stopped cold when you saw Joel was there with his brother seated at the table, two maps spread out in front of them. They both looked up when you entered the room, and Joel stood from his chair immediately, coming over to you with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, taking you by the shoulders to give you a once over, but you stepped aside so you could address Tommy behind him.

"I'm coming with you to take Ellie back to her family," you told him.

"Like hell you are!" Joel roared, dropping his hands from your shoulders, but you ignored him. Tommy sighed, looking back and forth between you and Joel, before standing up from his chair.

"Darlin'-"

"No, Tommy. I'm going. You said yourself you needed a fourth person."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, narrowing his eyes. You finally caved and met his gaze. "We talked about this," he added.

"Things change," you said, and he bristled at your response.

"What changed?" Tommy asked calmly, and you turned your attention back to him.

"She's scared. She wants someone she trusts to go with her," you said, only half lying.

Tommy and Maria exchanged glances. You waited for a response while Joel seethed next to you, staring daggers at his brother.

"Tommy, she ain't-"

"We need a fourth, Joel," he said, cutting him off.

"Find someone else!" he yelled, running his fingers through his hair.

"I can do it, I can handle myself," you assured Tommy, ignoring Joel's reaction once again, knowing you only had to convince one person. "You know I can handle myself."

Tommy gave his brother a pained look before looking back at you.

"Alright," Tommy said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll keep her safe, Joel," Tommy promised, daring to look at Joel, who was brimming with so much anger, his face looked flush.

You glanced at Joel, his jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he was cracking his molars. His gaze bounced between you and Tommy, not sure who to channel his rage toward.

"Joel, it will be fine. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," you said, trying to smooth things over, but it was no use.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I'm goin', too."

"That's fine, I'll shift some guys around, send Jake with Eugene," Tommy agreed with a nod. Joel just stared at the ground, taking deep breaths, trying to control his temper.

"Thank you," you whispered to Joel, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder, but he stepped away.

"Thought you didn't want kids, why don't you make up your damn mind," he snapped, and it felt like he punched you in the gut. He turned on his heel towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Your eyes filled with tears and your face flushed with embarrassment as Tommy and Maria glanced awkwardly at one another. Maria stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your shoulders so she could lead you into the living room.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked you, handing you a tissue. You shook your head and dabbed your eyes.

"Not right now," you said quietly. "Thank you. I'm sorry I put you in that position, I didn't know he was here," you said, addressing Tommy, who was leaning against the doorway, watching you both.

"It's alright, he'll get over it, I know how to handle my own brother," he said with a smirk. You chuckled and wiped your nose before taking a deep breath.

"I should probably go," you said, trying to force a smile. Maria walked you to the door and reminded you quietly that she was there if you wanted to talk. You gave her a quick hug and thanked them both before heading back down the street towards home, hoping Joel had a chance to cool down and come to his senses.

If Ellie was immune, you needed to make sure she got in the right hands, to have a chance to explain to her remaining family the gift she was given, and if you were the only person she could trust to confide in, then so be it. You wanted to tell Joel the truth, but you made her a promise, and you weren't going to let her down again.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark - if your name is crossed off, it won't let me tag you. lmk if I missed anyone

297 notes · View notes

livingemkayde · 10 months

Text

ch ii. wild things

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller

chapter two of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. kissing. mentions of sexual situations. bit of a love triangle forming. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake). no use of y/n!

a/n: wowza!! after careful consideration i am definitely making this into a series due to all the requests and comments in my inbox!! thanks for all the love on chaser and on my dbf!joel series which you can find all the parts to here. i love u all so much. i had a bit of an idea to write joel x reader mixed with one sided tommy x reader so this will evolve into that. who knows what will happen!! haha….

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating. But you already knew that. “You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.” You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze.

For a split second, it does cross your mind to turn around and run away.

But you’re already here. Joel is looking at you, mouth agape — you’re sure you look the same, if not worse. The little girl standing next to Joel giggles at you, smiling.

Fuck.

“Hi,” you say, breathless. You aren’t sure if you’re talking to her or Joel.

But she squeaks a small hi, reaches for your hand, and pulls you into the house.

You look up at him as you pass, he sucks in a breath and for a haste second, his eyes glance down towards your chest. Your movements feel slowed as you pass him. Like a scene from a movie — not unlike the feeling you had when you first bumped into him. You look up at him, a worried look fretted on your brow as he closes the door behind you.

She drops your hand and sits on the couch, Joel sits next to her, you on a love chair across from them.

It's quiet.

Way too quiet for what’s supposed to be an interview.

Joel keeps sending fleeting glances at you like he’s scared of what will happen if he meets your eye for more than two seconds.

“So…You’re — uh —” he starts, but doesn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah,” you say for him. He looks back at you, his mouth slightly agape. Joel shakes his head like he’s trying to snap himself out of it.

“This is Sarah. She’s seven,” he looks down towards her, she looks at you with big brown eyes. Not unlike the one’s attached to the man sitting on the couch beside her.

“Hi there,” you smile at her.

“Hi,” she says, her dangling feet swinging off the couch. “You’re really pretty,” she says, shy.

“Why thank you,” you say, acting flushed. “You’re gorgeous yourself.”

Sarah blushes. You look at Joel and he stares back. A couple beats of silence and your hands start sweating.

“Yeah, so I guess I’m your nine a.m,” you say with a breathy chuckle, talking to Joel now — referring to the interview appointment.

“Guess so,” he says, his southern drawl overtaking his voice. He looks at you with eyes that show a curious emotion. You wonder what he’s thinking. But most of all, you wonder how long this — now ridiculous — interview is gonna take before he tells you to leave.

So much for a good fuck buddy.

“I—” he shakes his head again. “Sorry, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

You are almost certain he swears under his breath.

“Right,” he says when Sarah gives him a funny look. You had put that on your resume that you submitted a week ago.

“College grad, or somethin’,” he says, pulling in a sharp breath at the words — and the realization.

“Yeah — uh — english.”

“Do you like books?” Sarah cuts into the tension, but she’s oblivious to the heat rising off your cheeks.

“Love them,” you smile at her, looking around, seeing a children's book on the coffee table separating you.

Where the Wild Things Are

You smile to yourself.

“Do you like reading, Sarah?”

She nods with a grin.

“I would love to take you down to the library. They’ve got all the books you can imagine,” you say, smiling.

She giggles and looks up to her dad with pleading eyes.

You’re not sure why you’re trying so hard to get this kid to like you but after last night, you aren’t really sure about anything anymore.

You can hear Sarah mumble into Joel’s ear.

Please, dad? I like her. The lady from yesterday was old.

His eyes cut to yours, and back down to the little girl whispering in his ear. You look around the house nervously. The Carhartt jacket that you distinctly remember from last night is draped on a chair in the kitchen.

Joel clears his throat, and to everyone in the room’s surprise, extends his hand. He looks a bit scared, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. But he utters those words in that drawl and you know you’re done for. Like all those hours before in the bar, then in the bathroom, and after that too when he slipped his name and number into your phone.

“You’re hired.”

You try to reason with yourself in the split second before you extend your hand to meet him.

Good pay. Sweet kid. Dad who you already fucked.

It might not be the worst thing — but it certainly doesn’t reign best in your mind. You take his hand after a beat. Your sweaty palm connects with his sturdy one. He gives you one shake and then drops your fingers. Sarah smiles up at you, you anxiously smile back. Joel gives you a gruff look that makes your pulse race.

“When can you start?” He asks after a few seconds.

“Tomorrow,” you say, maybe a bit too hastily, calming yourself down you reutter, “Tomorrow.”

“Alright, well… come ‘round eight. I gotta get to work tomorrow,” he stands, you follow him to the door, he mumbles to Sarah to play with some toys while you talk.

The cool morning air hits your face when he closes the door behind you. You stand face to face, shy eyes bending through the silence from both of you.

“I—” you stifle an awkward laugh, “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have come if I’d known, obviously.”

“Right,” he agrees, looking down at his feet.

“We can…this can be —” another awkward laugh, “like this okay? Right?”

“Right,” Joel echoes while sending you a curt nod.

God, it's like pulling teeth.

“Look, I’m sorry — we can forget about it, if this is like —”

“No,” he shakes his head, looking up at you, his brown eyes reflecting sunlight. You didn’t remember his eyes looking like that. But it was dark and you were drunk.

“It’ll be fine…‘s’alright,” Joel assures, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna —”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles. You catch a glint of the guy from last night — who managed to charm his way into your pants in under ten minutes. He surprised you then, and doesn’t fail to surprise you now.

“Sarah likes you, so…” you raise your brows at his words, he continues.

“Been havin’ a tough time findin’ someone she likes, and I have t’work,” he breathes out through stiff lips.

“I understand.”

You find yourself asking more, even though it might not be the best idea. But like you thought last night — this guy is intriguing — and getting a glimpse into his life even if you both weren’t ready for it might not be the worst thing.

“What do you do?” you ask, shy.

“I — uh — I’m a contractor.”

You don’t really know much about contracting so you fall short with a reply.

But he fills the silence.

“I work with my brother. He’s… he lives not too far away. You’ll probably meet him tomorrow,” he says, arms crossing over his chest.

“Sounds good,” you say, crossing your own arms, your thin sweater not doing much to protect you from the morning dew.

Joel looks towards the street and furrows his brow.

“Where do you live?” he asks, blunt.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“Jesus — I —” he shakes his head, his fingers pinching his nose bridge. “I just — you don’t have a car, m’sorry,” he looks out towards the empty street.

“Just…wonderin’ if you needed a ride.”

And so, the gentleman from last night appears just when you thought this might be hopeless.

“Oh car’s back at the house — I walked — I actually live like four blocks over on Anderson,” you jut with your thumb in the direction of your childhood home — your parents are letting you stay there while they’re on vacation for the summer.

“Didn’t know we lived so close,” you note to no one in particular, just speaking aloud.

“You’re in between me ‘n Tommy,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Jesus.

“What?”

“My brother,”

This small talk is getting awkward.

“Oh…right, well — cool. All close together,” you say, pulling a smile even though you feel immensely uncomfortable right now.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Cool.”

“So I’m gonna…” you nod your head to the direction of your house. It looks like that shakes him out of this trance of tension you both were put in together.

“Yeah, right.”

A goodbye is braced on your lips but you hesitate.

Mr. Miller?

Joel?

Maybe you were better off not calling him anything.

Especially since the last time you were saying the name ‘Joel’ he was asking you to beg for his cock.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you settle for, stepping off his porch, while looking back at him.

“Yup,” Joel replies, bluntly, “See you tomorrow.”

On your walk over the next morning, you settle into a quiet stroll.

It’s early, the birds are chirping and the dew from the young morning seeps into your skin, making your hair a bit damp and frizzy, but you don’t mind.

You didn’t have much time to look around when you were walking to your interview yesterday.

Honestly, you’ve never taken a good look at your neighborhood, especially this area. Your whole life you’d been driven around by your parents, never stopping to take in the scenery.

Austin is amazing in the summer. You don’t mind the heat, you welcome it — the sun feels good on your back when you walk over.

You see a black pick-up truck pull into Joel’s driveway as you round the corner and make your way down the street.

A man steps out, he’s young — younger than Joel — but you can see the resemblance. You suspect this is the ‘Tommy’ Joel had mentioned yesterday.

You break into a soft jog to greet him before he walks into the house.

“Hey,” you say, somewhat breathless. He stares back at you with a confused look on his face.

“I — uh — I’m Sarah’s new babysitter,” you say while extending your hand.

He takes it, the recognition of your title sinking in — a smile is brought to his face — it lights up the entire area.

“Oh — right. Joel said somethin’ ‘bout the babysitter coming this mornin’,” he shakes your hand, its soft grip squeezes yours once and then lets you go. “I’m Tommy, Sarah’s uncle.”

“Yes — Joel said you guys work together.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says, chuckling. You smile back at him.

He looks down and sees your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, reaching down to grab the strap of your bag and slipping it off your arm.

“Oh — thanks,” you try to hide your blush as you follow Tommy to the front door.

“No problem,” he mumbles, stepping onto the porch, in a light jog, you follow after.

The door opens before you reach it, a sleepy Joel miller peaks his head out at the noise.

When he sees it's you and Tommy, he straightens out a bit, a questioning look on his brows.

“What’s up man,” Tommy brushes past him into the house, you can see him set your bag down on the couch. “Found your new hire,” he teases from inside, already rushing to the kitchen before you’re able to cross the threshold.

You don’t want to squeeze past like Tommy, so you wait for Joel to invite you in.

“Good morning,” you smile up at him, he towers over you, leaning against the doorframe.

“Mornin’,” he replies.

“I just — ran into him outside the house,” you say shyly.

What are you trying to prove?

He smiles at you, maybe even matching the smile he had on at the bar. The smile you fell for instantly. A puddle at his feet — this time? No exception.

“Just come in,” he chuckles, walking away from the doorframe to let you in.

Sarah squeals from near the couches, running up to you and giving you a big hug. You chuckle while looking at the men in the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo,” you smile down at her.

“Can you take me to the library today?”

“Woah, woah slow your roll. I got a lot to show you before we hit the library,” her smile gets bigger if that’s possible. “I even have some special toys I brought just for you in my bag,” you whisper.

She laughs, hanging off your arm, and then trots into the kitchen. You follow her.

“So this is my number,” Joel says when you arrive, putting a piece of paper up on the fridge.

“Oh, I already—”

“Call ‘f you need anythin’.”

Your eyes snap to him when he cuts you off, giving you a knowing look. You blush in favor of arguing, understanding why.

This might be harder than you initially thought. Especially when you’re in his house, and everything smells like him — like that night. And his brother won’t stop looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You catch Tommy in his staring, he quickly looks back down to his cereal.

“We’ll be back ‘round five,” Joel says, looking over at the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Tuesday, dad,” Sarah chimes in when he squints at the calendar.

“Right. Tuesday,” he sighs, his eyes briefly meeting yours across the kitchen. “Tuesday is Chinese. We’ll pick it up on the way home,” he says, nodding at the information.

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” Tommy cuts through the tension, smiling at you. Your eyes dart to Joel’s — he has an indifferent look on his face.

You’re not really sure what to say but the entire Miller family looks back at you with the same set of big brown eyes, a couple sets are pleading, one set is scared.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks,” you smile back at Tommy. You hope things will be better by tonight because this is getting weird and you only have olives and a carton of eggs in the fridge back home.

“I’m gonna go load the truck,” Tommy mumbles, still chewing the rest of his breakfast while standing.

“It was very nice to meet you,” he smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “If you need anything you can always call me, left my number under Joel’s.”

You smile, but gruff words pull you away from Tommy.

“If you need anythin’, call me,” Joel says, emphasizing me.

You wonder if Tommy touched a nerve.

Tommy smiles with a teasing lilt, you thank him as he exits.

“Hang on a sec, Sarah, I’m gonna walk your dad out and then I’ll make you breakfast,” you say, following Joel out.

Tommy’s head is in the backseat of the truck, rummaging through things. You stand in front of Joel on the porch.

“Listen this is like…” you aren’t sure what you think this is, but it’s kinda unbearable.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies gruffly. “It’s — it’s done. Right? We can be professional.”

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice small. “Professional,” you laugh. His bright eyes mirror yours.

“Guess I should call you Mr. Miller, then.”

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Don’t call me that,” he says, a chaste chuckle braced on his lips.

“Joel,” he whispers. “Just Joel.”

“Okay,” you smile back at him. You can’t help but feel the spark like the night at the bar, when his hands were all over you, and you couldn’t see anyone but him.

“Just Joel.”

He nods and steps down from the porch.

He waves goodbye with two lazy fingers lifting from the wheel as he backs out.

“She’s pretty.”

Tommy’s voice cuts through the tense silence in the truck. An old country song rings through the worn interior. The A/C is blasting, the sun beating down on them through the sunroof.

Joel grunts in response.

“You don’t think so?”

“Think she’s my kid’s babysitter,” Joel mutters while Tommy stifles a laugh. Joel turns down a street, heading towards the onramp for the interstate. They’re meeting with a new client today, big work on the line. Joel can’t be thinking of you.

“So you’re not into her?”

Joel takes a while to respond. Tommy shifts a bit nervously in his seat. But finally — finally — Joel lets out a long sigh and responds. The single word sent Tommy’s way, making him grin—

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Tommy says, content.

It rubs Joel the wrong way.

“‘Alright’ what?”

“I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

When Joel doesn’t respond, Tommy speaks again.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I don’t know. Known her two seconds” Joel bites back a bit too harshly.

A few tense seconds pass.

Tommy starts again but Joel cuts him off.

“Jesus, can we just —” Joel reaches down to turn the radio up. The music drowns out any conversation on the tip of his tongue — kills anything he might regret saying. He tries to let it go.

Tommy lets it go too.

“Sarah!” you shout from the kitchen.

You look down to the kitchen counter. The sandwich stares back at you. You slather one side with blackberry jam you picked up from the farmers market. The other side with some peanut butter. Crust off, Sarah had pleaded with you yesterday when you picked her up from soccer camp.

You move to cut the crust off.

The front door opens from behind you, you don’t bother turning around, knowing who it is before he greets you—

“Hey, baby,” Tommy rounds the corner and gives you a small hug. You hear the front door shut in his wake. You look down to your fingers, the peanut butter getting a bit messy from the heat in the kitchen.

“Hey,” you reply softly.

It's been a couple weeks since you started taking care of Sarah. You fell into the Miller’s daily routines with ease, eating dinner with them most nights. Tommy and you have grown close. He’s a friend, a confidant. Someone who you can count on no matter what.

He’s good conversation, but an even better listener. You find yourself talking to him most nights on the drive home, and even sometimes after that when you invite him in for coffee and a drink. You can talk about anything and he’ll listen, giving his two cents when necessary, becoming a better friend than you could’ve anticipated.

Anything he had said the first night you invited him in.

You can talk to me about anything.

You had smiled at him. You wanted to talk to him about anything. And you talked to him about most things — but never all.

Because there was always Joel.

“Sarah!” you shout again, checking the clock and seeing it was almost eight. “Get your bag kiddo, I gotta drop you off at soccer by 8:15.”

You hear her small voice let out a muffled coming as you finish packing up her lunch.

“Need a ride?” Tommy asks from behind you.

“I thought you and Joel had to meet with that electrician guy today,” you throw over your shoulder.

“I always got time for you,” he says in a teasing upswing. You just laugh in response, trying to brush it off.

You know Tommy is a flirt. You can see it when you go out with him, girls fawn at his feet because he’s charming. The woman bagging your groceries, the waitress at the diner, the neighborhood mom’s coming over to talk when he washes the truck outside Joel’s house.

You see it all — and you don’t mind when it spills over onto you. It’s just how he is.

“Brought my car today, thanks though,” you nod at him as you pass the kitchen table, putting Sarah’s lunch bag on the counter.

You hear footsteps rounding the corner, hoping it’s Sarah, but as you look up, Joel’s eyes catch yours.

“Dammit,” you mumble.

“G’mornin’ to you too,” Joel says back, sending you a look.

“No — sorry, just —” you brush him off, he joins Tommy at the table. “Sarah!”

“We’re gonna be late,” you mumble to him, he sips on his coffee.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Joel says from his seat, motioning to the truck.

Tommy’s brows raise, waiting for your response.

“Thanks but I brought my car today,” you brush him off.

“Surprised that thing still drives,” Joel grumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, will you?” you say, half teasing, sending him a playful scowl.

“It ain’t safe is all ‘m sayin’, you sh—” he cuts himself off at the look you give him.

Tommy whistles from across the table.

It might look okay. And it might feel okay too. But when you're alone at night and you can’t sleep — you think about Joel. The fleeting glances from the day. The way his hand touched yours when you guys cleaned up dinner.

It wasn’t torture — but it sure felt like something similar.

You don’t miss how Joel scowls a bit when Tommy flirts with you playfully. But things seem to be cordial between them — as cordial as brothers can be.

Sarah skips down the steps, her hair falling out of the pony tail she tried to put up herself.

“C’mere, kiddo, we gotta fix your hair,” you say when she reaches the bottom step, pointing to a chair beside her dad and uncle.

Sarah sits, you brush through her hair with a comb, securing it with an elastic. You can feel both men’s eyes on you.

“All set,” you pat her shoulders, she finishes breakfast, racing to put her shoes on as you grab your keys.

Tommy stands at your exit.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, taking one last sip of his coffee before putting the dishes in the sink. He meets you in the foyer, you scramble to get your sandals on, Sarah slipping into her cleats as you bend down to tie her laces. Tommy grabs your keys and goes to start your car.

“Bye, Joel,” you yell from the entryway, something deep and gruff rings back from the kitchen.

When you open the door, the soft sunlight hits you. Sarah skips out towards Tommy, he picks her up, throws her up in the air, she laughs and giggles. He lets her settle into the backseat of your car. He opens the door for you, giving you a small hug as you check the time on your phone.

8:10 am.

“See you later, baby.”

“Bye Tommy,” you chuckle at his words, shaking your head as you climb into the driver’s seat.

Honestly, Joel is right.

You’re confused on how this car still drives. It was your mom’s from when she was in college. It sat in your garage, collecting dust until you pleaded with your parents to fix it up for you. Maybe it’s sentimental value or maybe you just can’t afford another car, but you’ve driven it ever since.

It’s never been a problem for you. Not until this moment when you found yourself on the side of the road, two blocks away from where you dropped off Sarah.

Your phone rings in your hand as you hold it up to your ear, leaning against the hood of the car while you look down at the very obviously flat tire.

“Tommy?” you bite quickly when he picks up.

What’s up?

“My tire’s fucked. I need a tow,” you grovel.

Oh shit. Uh — I can’t leave right now, the electrician needs me.

“Fuck,” you huff into the hot air. “Okay, I’ll call Triple A, thanks.”

You’re about to hang up, but a deep voice cuts through the line, Tommy answers it with a tone that you can’t read.

Joel’s comin’.

Your breath hitches.

Text him where you are.

You find yourself nodding even though he can’t see you.

“O-okay. Tell him I said thanks,”

He just left. Listen I gotta —

“Oh – no yeah, sorry. See you later. Thanks.”

Yeah. Bye.

You shoot Joel a quick text, your fingers shaking unexpectedly.

You only wait for about ten minutes before you see the black pick up roll around the corner. He pulls up in front of you, and backs up so the hitch is in line with your car.

Joel gets out, moving to hook everything up.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Hey,” he looks at you, you stare back with wide eyes. You were half expecting him to be mad or annoyed. But you forgot how he is. A gentleman.

“‘S’alright, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

From Joel Miller?

But he gives you a pat on the shoulder, motioning for you to help him, unaware he just made you weak at the knees.

You get everything hooked up, he opens the door for you like always.

You get in the truck and are met with a tense silence as he rolls into the middle of the road.

“Don’t say it,” you say, looking over at him, teasingly, waiting for the inevitable, I told you so.

“Wasn’t gonna say anythin’,” he smirks.

“I know you’re thinking it though.”

“I know you are, too.”

“You jinxed me,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I ain’t jinx nothin’.”

“You so did. This morning, at breakfast,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I just said I was surprised it still runs.”

“Yeah and now look what happened.”

He laughs, you both do.

You’re met with silence for a long time. He turns down a couple streets, heading back to his house.

“You called Tommy.”

You suddenly feel like it’s harder to breathe.

“Yeah.”

“I’m always here if you need anythin’...” he says, but trails off, shaking his head.

“I know. I just didn’t want to bother you,” you whisper.

“You’re never a bother,” he says in that drawl. He takes a glance over at you then back to the road.

You gulp.

You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light.

It’s intoxicating.

He’s intoxicating.

But you already knew that.

“You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.”

You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze.

“I — I’m sorry.”

He grunts.

You want to ask him. To talk to him. You want to know if he’s been thinking about you like you’ve been thinking about him. If you crawl into his sleepless nights, his daydreams, his every waking moment like he does to you.

You’re talking before you know any better.

“Can I ask you something?”

His reply is hesitant, but he motions for you to continue. When you find your voice, you manage to squeak out your question before you shut down and die from embarrassment.

“Is this hard for you?”

“‘S what hard? Drivin’?” he teases, you give him a shove but he doesn’t react to your touches.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not sure I do.”

Damn.

Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe when he told you that whatever this might be is over like he did all those weeks ago, he really meant it.

You shut up after that. Not really noticing your new found silence.

But Joel does.

He pulls up to the house, putting the car in park. He hops out first, opening your door, you walk by his side towards the front door.

When you step onto the porch you expect him to unlock the door, but he turns to you, surprisingly breaking the silence.

“Yes,” he says in a gruff voice.

You wait with bated breath for him to continue, until he doesn’t.

“What?”

“It’s hard for me,” he continues, you look at him.

He looks at you — almost with pleading eyes. It looks like he’s pained to say it.

“To see you everyday and not…” he trails off, but you know what he means. The thought sends a tell tale stickiness down in between your thighs.

You nod.

“It was kinda a fucked up coincidence,” you huff a laugh. He hums in agreement.

You stand there with him, the tension building to an all time high.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “Fucked up.”

“It was —” you bite your tongue. Not sure whether or not to dig up the incident at the bar you both fought so hard to bury. To conceal your relationship from everyone, including yourselves.

“I know,” he agrees.

You look at Joel through your lashes.

He looks handsome.

He’s always handsome, but when he looks at you with a glint in his eyes and the sunlight makes his brown eyes caramel, it's something entirely different.

You take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t move back.

“I’ve missed you,” you say in a hushed whisper.

It’s true. You missed his presence. Most of your time being taken up by Sarah or Tommy. If this whole babysitting thing didn’t happen between you and Joel, you would probably be seeing him at least once a week.

At least.

He huffs out a sigh, taking a half step towards you. He looks at you almost sympathetically. And when his hand comes to angle your chin up towards him, his look becomes more painful.

Maybe this is the part where he kisses you, and everything melts away.

He dips his head down slowly. You keep looking back up to his eyes and down to his approaching lips to gauge whether or not this is a mistake.

Even though you both know it is.

His lips brush yours, you tremble, but his phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of it.

He looks down, at the screen lighting up with Tommy’s name sprawled across it.

“Hello?” Joel answers.

Joel? Where the hell are you? The electrician —

You stop listening after that, stepping back. Joel mumbles some words on the phone while unlocking the front door and opening it for you, like always.

You give him a small smile and nod for him to go back to his truck.

He gives you a look — later?

You nod your head yes while shutting the door.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slump onto the couch.

Later he had said with his eyes.

chapter iii. diced

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @jasminedragoon @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565

562 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 2 months

Text

“The Sixth Day:” packed with literal steam in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | E | 3.7 K of mist form issues and smut

(Sfw) 🎨 by @mouldering-casket —nsfw version, on ao3 link and their X account.

Summary: You promise him anything if he can just get his powers under control for once… only anything means you are at his loving, demanding mercy as he finally takes you in that way you have been hesitant over…

CW: a$$ play, double penetration, illicit use of Mage Hand, Wet Cat Astarion, bathing foreplay and aftercare.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

“Astarion, did you get those arrows of dragon slay….”

Your hand pushes the door to your rooms open. Those private rooms that have already seen nearly every hole of yours filled with his cock or fingers or tongue… and your fingers filling all of his too.

You hear mostly silence… just a sort of slow swirling sound.

“I need a moment, my consort,” he speaks to your mind, that voice trying hard to ring with power and purr. But he just sounds… caught.

“Maybe I can help, I told you to check the trunk….”

Shutting the door, you see why he’s using your connection. Why he can’t just talk to you with those sultry, smirking lips.

Why he’s taking so fucking long.

“Mist? Really? We need the Vampire Ascendant in mist form to get the arrows, now?” You laugh as it starts to form a new shape. But only… half of him materializes.

His strapping, leather-bound legs form easily, but the rest of him… does not. A small cloud of mist hovers over his legs as he sways uncomfortably.

“Fucking hells, Astarion…” you grumble, burying your face in both your hands. “All I can do is ask… why.”

“Why, what, my treasure?” His voice still purrs against your mind. “At least my best and most prominent qualities manifest—“

“No,” you hold a hand up just in case. “No, Astairon, I am not going to be railed by only your lower half, before you start insinuating anything even close to that.”

His hips cock to his left. Annoyed. “We won’t know what we’re missing, my darling…”

“For fucks sake, no,” you do smirk back at him. “Don’t make me spank you, mighty Ascendant. Not like you could fight back.”

“Oh… my love. You always know what to say…”

You roll your eyes, over the top dramatically. “We best not keep them waiting, you know. You either figure this out, or I’m getting Gale. We need those arrows if we are going to face Ansur.” And you flop down to sit on the edge of the bed.

He begins to pace, or at least half of him does. “Fine,” he growls. “But… I might need a hand.”

“As long as it’s not pumping your cock below your diapperated torso, I’m fine with that.” You can feel the shiver of desire caress your core, heating down your bond. “Tell you what, my love…”

You stand and cross to him… whatever he is. Sticking your hand into the bubble of mist, you feel it leap to brush your skin, as if he can’t get close enough to you. “You make your whole body reappear immediately, and I’ll let you try that… thing… you’ve been asking for…”

You can’t see his face, but even as he breathes the single word, “Really?” you can picture that ravenous gleam in his narrowed eyes, that cant of his left brow. That look that makes you quiver under the gaze of your predator, knowing you are his next meal.

“Oh… yes,” you purr, reaching a single finger to trace up that line of his chorded thigh, stopping before it disappeared into the mists. “But only if you can….”

Pop.

A slight tingling wave of magic, and suddenly his upper half materializes, arms already wrapping tightly around you, ravenous lips beginning to tear into yours. The beading of his fine jacket presses into your sensible tunic, beads so sharp and refined. Just like him.

“Easy, my love,” you giggle as he begins that caress, that little trickle of lust that always ends with him ravaging you. “We have to get to…”

But a squeal replaces your words, his hand cupping on your mound, fingers already working through the buckskin to press between your folds. The other set of dancing lithe fingers claws hard into the curve of your backside. Friction rubs hard against both, sweeping in tandem and making you pant in an instant. You ride those hands, strong and long and warm as he fucks his fingers against your trousers.

You gasp, not expecting to enjoy the pressure on your ass, the tickle of his pressing touch brushing places yet to be explored….

But with one of his deep and rumbling laughs, he leaves your body, just the cold draft of his haste to cross the room and retrieve those godsforsaken arrows you had mentioned.

“Best not keep them waiting…” he spits your words back at you, that clever, rakish grin on his features as he watches you writhing in place. Knees buckle as you struggle to stand after… all that.

“Seriously…” you grumble again, rolling your own pair of crimson eyes at his game. “I offer you to do what you will with me… and you…” your words end with a frustrated groan as he shoves three arrows in your flapping, gesticulating hands.

“I won’t be giving them any more reason to think me a selfish bastard than I already have, darling…” he gives you that half-lidded, hungry stare that makes your innards melt. “You’ll just have to wait to give me what I want until we return, my consort. We are so close, I can almost taste it.” He lets his pink tongue linger on his last words, wetting his lips, a performative little display meant to leave you in agony.

And fucking hells, doesn’t it just.

In battle, your mind half flits through fantasy after nasty fantasy, no matter how many arrows get fired or bodies hit the ground.

Astarion didn’t fail to keep those scarlet eyes locked into yours every chance he could. His lithe hands brushing your body every time you crept in close to him. Your ass, even through armor, was decidedly his favorite to toy with. Little pats or strokes in passing… even in the midst of bloodshed and battle.

And once that armor is off, once you make it back with your weary party to the Elfsong… you are fair game. You nearly make it up the stairs, the companionship and warmth of a hot meal calling you. Until that Ascendant Lord purrs his excuses from the top of the stairs. He begs their forgiveness, hopes their stomachs enjoy their meals and that their ears don’t heed the noises he’s about to draw from his consort’s mouth.

You hold tight to the railing, shaking your head at the sound of their groans from inside the doors before your love shuts them tight.

Head tilted, eyes narrowed, and lips twisted just so… he races for you, sweeping you over his shoulder like the spoils of war you are. His treasure.

Nothing but the suede of your leathers on your legs and the damp tunic hanging loose from your frame, you feel every drag of his fingers as he grips your thighs. Your world hangs upside down, weightless. At his mercy as he kicks open your doors and carries you into the inner dark. Doors close with another kick, Astarion does not even bother to turn. The heel of his boot collides with wood, a fraction of a second before his palm does the same with your ass cheek.

You squirm on his shoulder, crying in surprise at the ripple of slight pain. “Astarion!” you chastise. But he only laughs as he sets you back on your feet. You smell it in the air, the floral oils and soaps you use for bathing wafting on the steam. Your feet settle on the floor, your body dragging down his front, but you ignore that virile smirk and ravenous gleam in his eyes. Scanning the room, you breathe the scents in the air. A steaming bath… soaps and towels and oils lining all within reach. “Seems a bit much for how I incentivized you earlier to get your head out of your ass…”

“Mmmm,” he purred, hands racing down to cup the full curves of your backside. “Yes…. Get my head out of my ass… so I can finally sink deep into yours.”

Gods, your cheeks ignite, your belly dropping to your toes as if you were falling through the air.

“But, my little love, it’s so much more to me than you finding new ways to trust me,” he whispers, those narrowed, hungry eyes softening just slightly as you turn to meet his gaze. “You have been, ahem,” he clears his throat awkwardly, that veneer of the Ascendant cracking with his sincerity, “been patient with me, keeping my… limitations secret as I learn just what these powers can do for me… for us.”

“So you’re eager to buy my continued silence… and fuck me in the ass?” you taunt in reply, slowly teasing your soiled shirt up from your belly.

“Well…” he gives that silken purr, hands freeing her body of that fabric, “you are my consort, and I’ll never leave you wanting, darling. I’ll wrap you in every luxury, bathe you in the finest oils, make every intimate moment you offer me the most… exquisite union for us both, because…” his velvety voice trails off with a deep throated chuckle. Because I love you, the words simmer in your mind, a caress from his thoughts against yours.

You smile softly, your body on fire, your heart welling with that feeling, even if he is too proud to voice it aloud. “Don’t I feel pampered and spoiled, brimming with anticipation…”

“You’re about to feel a lot more than anticipation brimming inside you, but,” he sighs and pulls off his own shirt in one fluid jerk, “let’s not get too hasty, hmm?”

Before he deigns to slip off his own trousers, his hands tear off your soiled shirt, your trousers freed from your skin in a matter of moments before he sweeps you up and deposits you in that warm and foaming water. Rose scented steam billows around you and permeates your every breath. You close your eyes and sink into the waters completely, letting it cover your head and drench your every inch.

You feel the water surge higher, two long, chorded legs fold to sit beside you. Arms pull you above the water, and you gasp, his body slipping around you, the perfect throne as he shifts you to face him. You feel that telltale prodding against your belly as he slides you closer, your legs brought to wrap firmly around his narrow hips. His eyes seem to devour you. That smirk on his lips that has always made you melt glints at you, his hands shift you just a little higher, fingers teasing around the soft swell of your ass.

You shudder, that molten touch barely sweeping you apart, a little towards that tight and puckered hole. Gasping, you flinch, making him laugh as he steals his hand back between your bodies, returning to all-too-familiar territory. That rumbling laughter in his chest rattles into your frame as his touch braces you closer, nails digging into your lower back.

Those other long, skilled digits take command of your folds, drawing heavy breaths from your mouth as he digs in deeper and toys with your clit as if it’s his favorite plaything. It’s a matter of seconds, a moment of winding tight in the hot water, the heady scent of rose petals in your nose and on your tongue as he drives you without mercy or reprieve towards orgasm. Your head rests on the hard edge of his collarbone, and you wince and shudder as that one hand throws you into the hot release that your body demands.

His name on your lips, you squirm and buck as heat finally explodes inside you, as your slick walls clutch hard in waves. Those warm lips of his suckle on the curves of your ear, rubbing their damp to the bend in your neck. “Now, let me show you my deepest gratitude, my little love, and trust me,” he breathes against your flesh in that velvet voice of his. “I promise you, I know what I’m doing…”

“A little too well at times, Astarion,” you breathlessly laugh in reply, trying hard to raise your head. But his hands rests its weight into your damp mess of hair, keeping you cradled on his shoulder.

“You’ll thank me, someday,” he rasps that deep laugh as he slides your hips to angle just right away from him. Every muscle clenches and shivers as his fingers explore that tight circle, the spoils you’ve offered.

That hand keeps you pinned in place, your ear shoved against his jugular to hear how his heart thumps harder the more he begins to circle around that untouched hole. A moan pours from your lips when he teases that soft and tight skin more, as he begins to dip inside and stretch you out.

Just a little, just playful and light, but already you groan at the new and overwhelming lightning it makes course through your nerves. “Ah!” you whimper with every teasing touch inside you.

“You’re doing so very well, my pet,” his other hand lifts your chin with the warm pads of his fingers. “You’ll take more, like the good girl you are…”

A noise leaves your throat, desperation and trembling fear whimpering in response. But that silken touch only glides another digit into you. Stretching, hot and painful, it makes you recall that first time anything stretched your cunt so full.

“Don’t worry… I’ll protect you… take good care of you… as if you were my own little virginal consort…” Silken touch and velvet voice sends shivers down your spine until your toes curl into themselves.

A third finger enters you, his mouth devours the gasping moan that slips free. His other hand returns to catch that aching clit again, and that water around you suddenly feels ice cool against your skin.

Decimated, shaking, exploding. Your walls clench around nothing and yet you feel yourself bursting full. Fangs bite your bottom lip as you gasp, unable to shut your mouth or swallow or move or…

You taste your blood on your own tongue, the warm pad of his own sweeping to lap and lips closing to suck you clean. Even as you wait for your world to stop tilting so you can recover in his arms, one more gasp rushes from your mouth as he slips from inside you.

He stands and pulls you with him from the waters. Lithe fingers grip yours to guide you safely over the edge. You watch his cock prod prominently through the gap of his towel as he tucks it around his waist, its little jolts as you stare and smile only serve to make you giggle and make you wetter.

Hastily, you dab yourself dry, and that gleam in his own crimson eyes signals the end of his patience. That towel gets ripped from your hands and flung somewhere on the floor behind you. Astarion’s eyes scan over you, so hungry and so smug. Those hips cock, his laugh flexing those ridges of his stomach as he watches you growing more agitated and flustered. Until he beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. Wet feet patter loudly as you rush him, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling that insufferable, conceited smirk into your mouth so you can kiss it off his warm lips.

You notice one of his hands is closed around a small vial, his other pulls the towel he just secured around those etched and narrow hips of his. It flutters to the bed, a heap of white that he guides you towards. He’s delicate for once, laying you with reverent touch on your stomach, putting that little glass bottle between his teeth so he can run all ten of his skilled fingers over your skin with featherlight touch.

Your breath is ragged, head turned so you can glimpse every movement from the corner of your eye. That pointed gaze is fixed where his hands trace up and down your back, sometimes warm and soft, sometimes tickling and scratching his nails up and down your sides. He gives a low, rumbling chuckle as one hand starts to massage the globes of your ass, the other reaches for that bottle of clear oil. The cork pops as he pulls it free with his teeth, its warm slickness pours over your rear. He sweeps it into that seam, suddenly pushing that oil back into that hole, easier than before but just as… nice.

Pleasurable.

He spits the cork out, you hear it bounce quietly across the floor, the light scent of the oil the same as the bath, floral and sweet. Slick noises squelch somewhere behind you, and recognition sends a bolt of desire flooding to your core. He slathers it on his cock, beating, rubbing himself in his fist, even as his other hand teases you apart on his three fingers again.

And that’s when his well-oiled hands lift you to your knees, face still panting into your pillows.

Something cool and light sweeps up your seam, dipping deep into your cunt. You lift your chest just enough to watch from under how that magical touch of a Mage Hand thrusts over and over into your folds.

Finally, you groan, something to clench around. You relish it, that magical touch at last filling you in all the familiar ways. As if your vampire's cold touch has returned. You shiver, blissful and bucking.

Until you feel something warm again prodding just behind that already-filling touch. You know it, it’s blunt and oiled and hot and fleshy. “Breathe my Consort, even if you don’t need to any longer,” he chuckles, rolling his hips to thrust that hardened length up the crease of your ass. “You’re about to need to breathe, so don’t you forget how.”

You obey, the scents of your oils and soaps making your body limp, even as you sense his anticipation. His hand grips just beyond his cock’s head, sweeping more oil to make everything so slick over him, over you. And so hot. You do breathe, that prodding returning inside your ass, pushing inside you bit by agonizing bit. He groans, pausing, giving you the time to loosen, to take him at your leisure. Thank gods that Mage Hand hasn’t lost its charms, still pressing and filling you. And now, as he slides inside just that bit more, you are busting.

That magic touch in your cunt, that pressing pressure just beside it, they rub almost against one another, paper thinness separating them. And that sensation makes you forget to breathe. Especially as he works his way more and more, slowly and carefully.

Ever so skilled, he is. Like someone who has done this dance a thousand times, but with the knowledge and tenderness of one who worships your body. Who adores you.

Slowly, he withdraws, only to slip inside you again. Over and over, he takes his time as he takes you. Over and over, you try to breathe, air hitching every time his cock brushes against that other touch that buries inside your channel.

Never… never before have you been so filled, not with a cock or pleasure or love. To be so used and worshiped, to be touched gently and fucked roughly… to be trusted and to trust, it brings a little sting of tears to your eyes and not just from the suffocating bliss he’s drawing from you now.

You keep yourself panting, face buried in the bed as he slowly buries himself into you deeper, still deliberate and slow. Sometimes, they shove into you in synch, sometimes they piston against each other, opposing forces that fuck you back and forth. A single brush of fingers over your belly to catch your clit in his all too real touch is all you need to explode. So breathtakingly good. You clench around magic, the grind of that wam and hard length pushing you harder into waves and coils of pleasure you didn’t even think your undead body could handle.

Astarion picks up his pace, grunts in his throat, his voice rough and thick with his praises. “So beautiful, my very good girl,” he rasps, that addictive feeling of his hips snapping against your rear, that sound of slapping flesh sending another bout of shivers down your spine. “You lovely, tight thing… so good to me, spoiling me, my love.”

You barely hold yourself up on your knees, that touch inside you slipping out after the last tremors of your orgasm. His breath grows ragged. His fingers claw into your hips. His cock splits you past fullness to another realm of pleasure. Until, for as slowly as he entered you, he slips away.

You groan so loudly, you hear your voice ricochet from the wall. He beats his cock, hips and thighs still braced against your backside as you hear that wet rhythm of his self-pleasure. It takes only another beat for him to push against you with all his strength, to feel ropes of hot cum drip and trail down your back.

“Exquisite…” he sighs, warm touch painting white streaks over your cool skin through the mess he’s made all across your back. “Simply exquisite…” he proclaims proudly, voice rich like velvet and panting with exhaustion.

“Mmm,” you mumble into the bed beneath you, far too boneless to stand, far too pleasantly sore to do much more than lower your aching hips to the bed. “Am I?” you purr back as you barely turn your head.

“Indeed,” he chuckles and rises from the bed, “and you’ll be exquisite forever.” One hand massages your ass cheeks, and you moan and hiss in one unabashed noise. “Now, to clean you up, filthy thing. You really were detectable, you know.”

You giggle into your hand as you raise your head and toss your tangled mess of hair from your eyes. “Just don’t go trapping yourself as a mist too often, I don’t know how frequently my ass can serve as incentive, my love.”

He just cants his brow and flashes his fangs down at you, hovering at your bedside and creeping closer. A shock of magic and a caress of mist as he shifts once…. A pop and rush of power as he shifts back.

Fully this time.

Astarion laughs deeply and pulls you by the hand to your feet. “Seems you’re safe… for now, my darling.”

178 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 27: Found

You try to figure out what you want. Joel and Ellie go on patrol.A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. CLEARLY. It's me. Homophobia. Smut-adjacent. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 11.3k (THIS IS GETTING TO BE A PROBLEM I'M SO SORRY)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late August, 2027

“You’re making this hard on purpose,” Ellie’s nose scrunched as she held her guitar.

You laughed.

“Promise, Kiddo, I’m not.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you, you know,” she grumbled. You snorted. “I’m serious! Swear you make me do shit the hard way because you fucking enjoy watching me struggle…”

“You learn better when you do it yourself and do it the hard way,” you shrugged, leaning back against a post of your porch. You stretched a leg out onto the step below and picked a little at your guitar. “You’ll never learn if I just give you all the answers.”

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning to the side to add more of her disorganized scrawl to her notebook. “Swear you didn’t have to work this hard at shit…”

“I started a lot younger than you,” you replied, picking up the pace on your guitar and adding slaps and pops, no real rhyme or reason to it, just what your fingers felt like doing. “Everything is easier when you start young. And hey, you’ve got a leg up on any asshole who tries to learn when they’re my age.”

“Because you’re a dinosaur?” She looked up at you from her notebook, a small smirk on her face.

“Nah,” you replied. “They’d been dead like three years when I was born, I’m not THAT old.”

She laughed and went back to her notes as you kept playing, looking out down the path from your yard to the road beyond.

It was sweltering hot and you’d never been more thankful for a breeze or the fact that it was your day off from the stables. The hair that had pulled loose from your braids stuck to your skin and you’d been sweating all day, waking up with your sheets balled up at the foot of your bed and your tank top damp even with the ceiling fan on. You hadn’t even put on jeans that day, throwing on one of the few dresses that had made their way into your closet in the almost two years you’d been in Jackson. The first you’d taken when Maria mentioned seeing one she thought would fit you, not long before things fell apart with Joel. You’d intended to wear it to the Tipsy Bison on a night there was dancing once it was warmer, opening the door to Joel when you were dressed like what your mother would call “a proper lady.” You’d pictured dancing with him, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh when you sat down to have a drink until you couldn’t take it anymore and you practically dragged him home, riding him with the skirt bunched up around your waist the second you were in the door.

That had never happened. That dress stayed tucked safely away at the back of your closet, not able to bring yourself to part with it and the image of that night with him.

The other dress was perfect for days like today, long and loose and thin cotton that made the oppressive heat of late summer tolerable. Even if Ellie had looked at you like you had two heads when she saw you in the damn thing.

You didn’t mind, though. You were just glad that you had gotten to the point that you liked spending time with Ellie again. That you’d started feeling much of anything at all.

The first month you got back was hazy. You didn’t really leave your house at first, not able to contribute much at the stable and not seeing a reason to move otherwise.

You weren’t entirely sure how many days passed before there was the first knock at your door.

It wasn’t an Ellie knock. The sound didn’t carry her chaotic energy or almost audacious nature. Instead, it was hesitant but sturdy and firm without being forceful or insistent. You stayed flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling of the closet for a minute to see if the knock would come again. It didn’t. You stared at the ceiling a while longer but, eventually, you had to pee. You forced yourself to move and, on your way back from the bathroom, passed your front door. You hesitated for a moment before you went and opened it, to see if whoever knocked had left a note.

On your porch was a box filled with crackers and jerky and fruit and carrots and celery. All things you could eat without needing to cook or, really, do anything at all. You knew it was from Joel, even though it hadn’t sounded like his knock, either. There was no one else who would have brought it because no one else knew why you were locked inside your home. But he was no where to be seen. He didn’t leave a note.

A few days later, you forced yourself to go to the stable to check on the horses. The fillies and the colt weren’t making much progress without you - you’d have to probably start nearly from scratch with them once your arm healed - but you were able to feel somewhat useful, brushing horses down, checking on their hooves to see when they’d need to be shoed, just giving them some love and attention. That helped you feel a little more like yourself.

Ellie started coming by again a few days after that. She showed up one afternoon with a CD and a sandwich from the mess hall, marching into your living room like nothing had happened, complaining about another kid in town and how Joel wasn’t going to let her patrol with anyone but him for a while.

“I could get partnered with Dina but no,” she drew the last word out, sprawled on your couch, rolling her eyes as she did. “The old man is convinced I’m going to drop dead if he’s not looking out for me for five minutes…”

“I’m sure he’ll ease up once he sees how capable you are,” you said, sitting on the loveseat and picking up the CD case she’d brought with her. The Clash this time. “Mick Jones and Joe Strummer, nice choice. Why do you want to go out with Dina, anyway? I thought not everything was about girls…”

“Shut up.”

“Nah.”

You were’t sure if you were really doing better or if you’d just found a way to push the hurt down inside yourself again. You weren’t sure there was a way to recover from this, from the idea that you’d probably never see your child again. Clinging to the possibility felt so necessary but so foolish. You weren’t sure if it was reason or denial but it didn’t really matter. You weren’t sure you could live without that possibility dulling the jagged edges of your grief and pain.

The boxes of food made regular appearances on your porch. You never saw Joel.

When you were close to getting your cast off, Ellie came by your house but didn’t shove her way inside the way she usually did. Instead, she hovered on your porch.

“OK don’t be mad,” she said, a serious look on her face.

“Off to a great start,” you replied.

She glared at you for a second before pressing on.

“Joel sent me with a message,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you that the movie tonight was something called Ever After and that he thought you would like it and that he wasn’t going to be there so you should go. And to not be mad. I think you shouldn’t be mad, too, by the way.”

“Not mad,” you smiled a little. “I just… I don’t know…”

“Come on, Bambi,” Ellie said, dropping some of her pretense now. “Dina’s going with Jesse and I’ve never seen it and I really don’t want to be stuck sitting by them while they suck face.”

You sighed, looking back over your shoulder in the direction of Joel’s house. You found yourself looking that way a lot.

“Alright,” you said after a moment, looking back at Ellie. “I’ll go. But only to save you from your crush…”

“I’m going to ignore that last part and just be happy you’re going,” she said, a little smug. “Even though you’re annoying about it.”

“So annoying,” you agreed, stepping into your boots, turning on the lamp and following her out the door.

It was strangely easy to adjust to being around the people of Jackson again. Ellie gave you something to focus on, busy trying to distract her from the Dina and Jesse acting exactly like you remembered some of your friends in high school acted with their boyfriends.

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Ellie asked as the two of you settled in toward the back of the room.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” you said. “But I think it was like Cinderella.”

Ellie looked at you and made a face.

“Like the fairy tale.”

“Yup,” you replied. She stared at you and you laughed a little. “What?”

“I’m just trying to picture you liking a fucking fairy tale.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as best you could with one in a cast.

“What?” She teased. “Don’t tell me you like some stupid story where love solves everyone’s problems…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Julie, the woman you’d seen a few times at the Tipsy Bison and when she went out on patrol, appeared alongside Ellie, a large bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“It’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “There’s a reason they’re stories for little kids.”

“Maybe you just haven’t loved that way yet,” she smiled a little before nodding to the chair on the other side of you. “Seat taken?”

You hoped you didn’t just stare at her for too long. People didn’t just talk to you in Jackson, not without a reason, let alone try to sit by you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“All yours,” you said, tugging your legs in close so she could pass you and sit down. She settled in beside you and smiled, holding out the bowl.

“Thanks,” she said. “Popcorn?”

“Sure,” you said after a moment, taking some with your good hand. “Thank you.”

“Course,” she smiled a little bigger in a lopsided, almost cocky way. “What’s the point of popcorn if you don’t share it?”

The movie was good. You’d only seen it once or twice before the outbreak but you’d liked it then, too. Cinderella was smart and capable, the prince was handsome and kind and you liked to imagine the way life was in that period of time.

“OK so that wasn’t terrible,” Ellie said as you headed out with her and Julie.

“Told you,” you teased a little.

“No one told me that sometimes the girls in fairy tales got to be badasses,” she replied. “I might have liked the stories more then!”

“The girls are always badasses,” Julie said. “They just try to hide it, scares the men otherwise.”

Ellie snorted.

“Sounds right.”

You reached Joel’s. There was a light on in his living room and you felt the familiar tug in you to go inside and join him. Just let yourself in the front door and settle in like it was yours.

“I’m gonna go tell the old man that his taste in movies isn’t totally awful,” Ellie said, heading up the front walk. “Still want help tomorrow at the stable?”

“Stalls ain’t gonna muck themselves,” you replied and held up your still healing arm. “And this isn’t much help.”

“Ugh,” she groaned good naturedly. “Night!”

You watched until she made it to the front door - not that the precaution was really necessary here but it made you feel better - and you turned to Julie, your good hand stuffed in your pocket.

“I’m that way and to the left,” you said. “So…”

“Mind if I join you?” She asked. “Nice night, figure I’ll take the scenic route.”

You looked at her for a moment.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Not much to see though.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she smiled one of those lopsided smiles and fell into step beside you, walking a little slower than you and you slowed down to match her pace. You looked ahead. “So, how’ve you been doing? Don’t see you at the Bison much anymore.”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like going out.” You looked over at her and had the passing thought that she was pretty. Young, with long, dark hair and bright eyes and full lips.“How about you?”

“Oh you know,” she waved you off. “Same old, same old. The berries are coming into season though, have you been to check out the orchards and stuff?”

“I’ve ridden past them,” you said. “Haven’t exactly spent time there, though.”

“You should!” She brightened at that, even more than she already was. The two of you came to a stop at your front walk. “Think you’d like it. You should come with me sometime, it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you smiled a little tightly. “This is me, so…”

“Nice place,” she smiled back, looking more genuine than yours felt. “Well, whenever you want to check it out, let me know. Hope to see you around.”

“You too,” you said, standing there awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading up the walk and into your house.

You went to the mess hall the next morning for breakfast. Dinner, too. And soon, your cast was off and you were going there for most meals, even if it was just to grab something to bring home or go to the stables. The food boxes stopped showing up on your porch.

Instead, you’d come back from the stables and find new guitar strings waiting for you there or a CD that you didn’t have or a copy of Titanic on VHS, the one that took two tapes and you had to get up halfway through to change it.

You’d told Joel he should move on. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to - you doubted you’d be able to stomach seeing him with someone else - but you didn’t want him to be alone, either. You didn’t want to drag him down with you just because you couldn’t separate his past from your own.

“OK so I think I have it,” Ellie said, pulling you out of your head and making your fingers still. “Can you look?”

She shoved the notebook your way and you leaned over your guitar to look at it, fingering the chords but not playing them.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “I think that’s probably closer to what you’re looking for, give it a go.”

You pushed the notebook back towards her and she set her guitar on her lap, adjusting it for a second before playing it. You nodded along, watching as she scrunched her face, getting more and more frustrated before she groaned.

“That’s not right either,” she leaned her head back on the post at her back. “Song writing shouldn’t be this hard. This is bullshit.”

“The shit that’s worth doing is hard, kid,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you try thinking about it again for a minute. Do you want it to feel urgent or slow and confident? Both are strong but they’re going to have different vibes.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” you shrugged, settling back with your guitar. “Figure out how you’re feeling and what you want the song to say about it. It’ll come to you.”

You went back to playing as Ellie picked her notebook back up, gnawing on the end of her pen.

“I didn’t know you played!”

You stopped and your head shot up from its place on the post to see Julie standing at the end of your walk, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her thick hair piled on top of her head, her arms looking sculpted and strong in her tank top.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come up?”

“Um…”

“Sure!” Ellie said before you had a chance to really think about it. Julie reached over the short fence and unlatched the gate before opening it and coming up to your porch, sitting on the bottom step so she was looking up at you and Ellie.

“Didn’t know there was a guitar club in town,” she said, folding one leg into her chest and looping her arms around her shin. “Don’t stop on my account! What song was that?”

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” you said, running your fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. “Just… fidgeting, really.”

“Yeah, Bambi is fucking awesome,” Ellie said. “Best guitar player in town, easy.”

“Ellie,” you gave her a look but she ignored you.

“Seriously, you name it and she can probably play it,” she said. “She knows so much about music it’s insane.”

“Not really,” you cut her off. “I just like music so I learned about what I liked, that’s all…”

“Oh bullshit,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She’s a human juke box, try her.”

“Do you mind?” Julie asked, looking at you with her brows raised. Her eyes were bright green and almost sharp.

“As long as you’re prepared to be disappointed,” you shrugged. “I can try.”

Ellie scoffed and Julie ignored her.

“I remember this song from when I was a kid, just before the outbreak,” she said. “It actually took me a while to track down the name of it after and you might think it’s silly but… I’m With You? Know that one?”

You smiled a little.

“I know that one,” you said, settling the guitar on your lap. “Haven’t tried to play it before, though. Avril’s not really my wheelhouse, so… go easy on me.”

You couldn’t remember exactly how the song started but you remembered the chorus and you remembered a verse from there. The music just trailed off at the end, not really remembering how the song ended either, and you awkwardly drummed your fingers on the body of the guitar when you stopped playing, Ellie and Julie both watching you.

“Right, well,” you said. “Like I said, not really my wheelhouse and…”

“That was fantastic!” Julie cut you off, her broad smile making the freckles on her cheeks rise.

“Told you,” Ellie said. “She’s the best.”

“Well I figured that much,” Julie rolled her eyes a little dramatically but smiled that cocky smile as she did before looking back to you again. “Thanks for letting me put you on the spot.”

“Any time,” you said before you really had a chance to think about it. She smiled a little bigger.

“Hey, so, I hadn’t meant to break up the jam session,” she said. “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow afternoon, I was going to head out to the orchards for a bit. You’re welcome to join, get outside for a bit. It’s nice, promise.”

“Um,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that day, trying to picture the stable schedule. “I think that would work, I have some patrols leaving that morning but should be able to step away for a bit in the afternoon…”

“Perfect,” she said, getting up. “I need to get down to the Bison but I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow?”

“That’s where I’ll be,” you smiled in a way you hoped was genuine. “Looking forward to it.”

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye Julie,” she dragged her name out and gave you a look. You seriously considered kicking her. Julie laughed and started down your walk, only making it halfway to the gate before turning around and walking backwards, looking back at you with her hands in her back pockets.

“Nice dress, by the way,” she said. “It works for you. See you tomorrow!”

You went back to messing with your guitar as you tried to not watch her walk up the lane. Ellie was far less delicate, craning her neck until Julie turned the corner.

She spun to face you and swatted your leg.

“Oh my GOD,” she half whispered, half yelled at you.

“What?” You asked, fingers stilling on the strings.

“That!” She said. “All that fucking flirting!”

“Ellie…”

“Oh come ON,” she cut you off. “You may as well have fucked right on your porch, Jesus Christ…”

“OK I will say this again,” you said, setting your guitar down beside you. “Who is and isn’t between my legs? Not your business.”

“Well that’s just not true,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who fucked Joel and made it my business.” You sighed and went to reply but she held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you two work your shit out and get back together. But if you’re not going to figure it out then you shouldn’t just be miserable and lonely forever and Julie is hot as fuck.”

“Ellie!” You hissed.

“What!” She replied, her brows raised. “She is!”

“Jesus…”

“Just saying!” She said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Julie’s cool. And hot. I think you’d have fun. And you should at least try to have some fun sometimes instead of just being miserable all the time.”

“What if I like being miserable.”

“Just don’t chicken out,” Ellie said, ignoring you and picking up her guitar before getting to her feet. “But I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go see what the old man is doing for dinner. You’re welcome to come along if you’d rather not be miserable with us…”

“Ellie.”

“Right, right,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean it, fucking go tomorrow. You big chicken.”

“Go home, you little brat,” you replied. She cheerfully flipped you off before heading back toward Joel’s.

You sat on your porch for a while longer, absently playing and watching as the color of the sky slowly shifted from blue to pink to deep, inky black. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, like there wasn’t anything beyond what was right in front of you. But you knew that if you walked far enough, followed the light of the north star, you’d find things beyond what consumed here and now.

It was late when you finally went inside, scrounging in your kitchen for the last of some of what Joel had brought you even though you weren’t particularly hungry. You turned on the stereo and just let whatever CD you’d put in last play, not really paying attention

You found yourself thinking about Julie. About what Ellie said about Julie.

It had been a long time since you’d had a woman flirt with you. You’d been with your fair share of women since the outbreak but flirting hadn’t really been part of it. Marisa was the first woman you’d slept with and, after Savvy came along, you stopped seeking out that kind of connection with men and kept it to strictly women. It just seemed safer. After Marisa, it had always been casual - you didn’t think you could bear another heartbreak like that - and it had always been fairly blunt. You could generally tell if they were interested in letting off some physical steam and, if they were, you had fun for a few days before they moved on.

But things with Julie reminded you of one of your first crushes, a girl who did trick riding on the same circuit as you when you were a girl. You’d first noticed Courtney when you were both 13. She was so beautiful you couldn’t help but stare at her. At first, you’d almost resented her. She was good, damn good, and she was full of charismatic smiles and she dusted glitter across her collarbones that peeked out from the top of her costume. She was exactly who your mother wished you were and, as much as you loved bronc and bull and roping, part of you wanted to be who your mother wanted you to be. You wanted to be satisfied with what she wanted for you and you wanted to be happy being who Courtney was so effortlessly. Life would be simpler and happier if you were content with that and Courtney was proof that life existed. And you wanted it.

You settled for beating her, for a while. Narrowing your eyes at her when you passed her between rounds at competitions, looking her way when you saw your scores narrowly eclipse hers on the board. You loved it. The only thing you wanted more than beating her was her.

Hell if you knew what to do with that.

In hindsight, you weren’t sure she knew, either.

The first time she’d said more than two words to you was when you’d smirked at her as you held the first place trophy. You went to the locker room after the awards ceremony and you had the place almost to yourself, most of the other girls already cleaned out. The third place winner - a girl who’s name you didn’t remember - left and it was just a few seconds later that you heard the door slam into the wall. You looked up to see Courtney stalking over to you. You could see the glitter on her collarbones and her cheeks, her eyes hot and her lips full.

“Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?” She demanded, getting so close to you that you could smell her body spray. It was almost sickly sweet and floral but on her it smelled good. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much!”

“I don’t hate you…” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me!” She cut you off.

“Why do you care?” You snapped. “We compete, we’re not friends, who cares if I hate you?”

“I care!” She snapped back.

“Why!”

“Because I like you!” She yelled, breathless. You just blinked at her for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes drifting to your lips. “I like you and sometimes…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Instead, you kissed her.

It was clumsy and deeply uncertain. You’d never kissed anyone before and you had no idea what you were doing, your hands locked tight at your sides as though touching her anywhere at all was against the rules but you were risking it, anyway. Her mouth was warm and soft and it seemed oddly wet even though that made sense when you thought about it.

After a moment you pulled back from her slightly, your eyes wide, not really believing what you’d just done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your turn to be breathless now. “I… I don’t know…”

“Shut up,” she kissed you that time, pressing you back against the lockers, stretching up to better reach your lips, her body hot on your own. You kissed her back, trying to focus and take in everything. How she tasted, how she smelled, how her costume hugged the slight curve of her waist.

“Courtney!” Her mother’s shrill voice from the hall made her jump away from you and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. “You about ready honey?”

“One minute!” She called back before turning to you. “Do you have a some paper?”

You just nodded and fumbled in your bag for a notebook. She turned to a random page that happened to have some history notes on it and wrote her name and number at the top. Her handwriting was soft and curved and feminine and you envied that, too. She drew a little heart next to it.

“Call me,” she said, pressing the notebook into your chest. “OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her. You couldn’t help but stare at her. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” she smiled. “See you next time, superstar. Maybe I’ll finish on top then.”

“Courtney!”

“Coming!” She grabbed her bag out of a nearby locker and gave you an almost sly smile before she ran out to meet her mother.

From then on, most of your time with her was flirting. In between rounds at competitions or on the phone when you were far apart, carefully crafting your words so you’d have plausible deniability with your parents but know what the other meant. You wrote each other letters when you were apart, counted the days until you got to see each other again. When you found an empty spot when you were in the same place, you ended up tangled up together, kissing and fumbling against each other, figuring out what seemed to stoke the fires deep inside yourselves in the small moments you could find for just the two of you.

That continued for just over a year when Courtney came to a tournament with a somber expression on her face. You frowned but she gave you a subtle shake of her head as she passed you and you kept quiet. It took a few hours before you were able to get her alone and she told you the truth of it. That her mom had found your letters to her - thankfully not signed so she had no idea who had written them but still obviously from another girl - and had told her daughter that she, unequivocally, would end it.

“But…” you protested, trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “But… she threatened to send me to one of those camps if I don’t and… I can’t go to that, OK? I can’t, I don’t think I could make it and…”

You held onto her as she cried, her tears making little rivers in the glitter on her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really… I think I…”

You kissed her before she said it.

“Me too,” you said quietly when you pulled away.

She sniffed and smiled a small smile.

“Maybe in another life, right?”

“Right,” you smiled a little back.

She dried her eyes as best she could and you watched from the stands as she gave the best performance you’d ever seen. You did the opposite. Your routine ended with a full Stroud Layout but your top foot slipped when you were getting into position and you fell off your horse, tumbling over and over yourself in the sand of the arena, the feel of it gritty in your mouth as your head spun when your body finally came to a stop.

You didn’t make the podium and your mother didn’t push you to compete again for a while. You never saw Courtney again.

You weren’t sure how to navigate things with Julie. You weren’t sure what you wanted to navigate with Julie. She was beautiful, yes. And she seemed kind and funny and smart. She seemed like someone you could have fun with and could care about.

But she wasn’t Joel. You weren’t sure you could feel like you felt for him for anyone else. It seemed silly to even try. And if you couldn’t feel like that, what was the point?

You tried to sleep but gave up eventually. After a while, you found the moose carving you’d started when you were out with Joel, looking for Savvy. It was getting closer to being done, though it was still a rough hewn thing. You weren’t sure anyone who didn’t know what it was supposed to be would realize what it was without help. But still, it felt good to make something. You let yourself be absorbed by carving it for a bit, until it felt like you’d shut your mind down enough to sleep. You set the moose down on the nightstand, arranging him so it was like he was watching you sleep, the red splotch from your blood still staining his chest.

You brought him with you to the stables the next day for something to work on when you needed the distraction. Just sitting there with your thoughts when you had downtime seemed like a bad idea.

“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?” Ellie asked as you gave Shimmer and Ares a final once over that morning.

“I don’t need to tell you every time I hang out with someone,” you replied.

“Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t chicken out. Actually go, you need a social life…”

“What, getting sick of keeping me company all the time?” You teased, handing her the reins.

“Yeah, you’re pretty fucking boring,” she smirked a little. You snorted. “I’m serious though. Promise you’ll go.”

“I’m going,” you said, giving her a gentle shove toward the door. “Get out of here. Be safe on patrol, see you back tonight.”

“Not if you’re at Julie’s you won’t,” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you watched her lead her and Joel’s horses out of the stables.

Time dragged until that afternoon and you found yourself feeling oddly nervous, waiting for Julie to come by. You weren’t sure what time she was supposed to get there and, you realized, you didn’t know what to actually expect with any of this.

Yeah, it had felt like flirting. And Ellie seemed sure that it was. But Ellie was a kid and your recent experience in that department was so limited you really knew fuck all about it. What if you’d read the situation completely wrong? What if Julie was just a nice woman who wanted to be friends?

“Hey you,” Julie’s voice surprised you enough that it made you jump, water sloshing over the side of the bucket you were carrying to top off one of the horses. “Shit, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…”

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, refilling a waterer and setting the bucket down.

“Now still good?” She asked. “Because I’m not in a rush, today is my day off…”

“Now’s good,” you said quickly, trying not to think too hard about what she was wearing. Her long, lush hair was softly braided and hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face. Her shorts were short and her legs were long and sculpted and she wore a few long necklaces that settled into the curve between her breasts. She smiled.

“Great!” She held up a bag you hadn’t noticed before. “Brought snacks. Not that we’ll need much, it’s peak berry season out there. We could eat ourselves sick and not make a dent.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you smiled a little.

“Oh, I intend to,” she smiled back.

Julie led the way out of town, smiling and chatting with the guards at the gate for a moment before heading toward the orchards just east of town.

“So why are you heading out here on your day off?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Well as I think you know, one of my main contributions to the good people of Jackson is tending bar at the Bison,” she smiled. “But that’s because I just really like drinks. I found this old cocktail book when I was a teenager and I just kind of became obsessed, I guess? There was that and these books and magazines that showed what it was like before and I wanted to do that. Have the experience of going to a bar when life was different, you know? And yeah, we make some pretty decent booze here in town - or I think we do, anyway, didn’t really get to try any before - but that’s not all it takes to make a good cocktail. I can’t make a Coke or anything but I can make the syrups and infusions and things. I like to experiment in my spare time so I come out here, pick the supplies I need, and give things a try at home before I bring my ideas into the Bison.”

“Do I get to know what you’re working on?” You asked, brows raised.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she smirked. “But I will need a guinea pig before too long if you’re game…”

“Far be it from me to turn down a free drink,” you replied and she smiled bigger.

The orchards were, indeed, beautiful. You followed her to a particularly dense spot and she pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it on the ground in the shade of an apple tree.

“I won’t lie,” she said, sitting back on her hands and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is probably my favorite spot.”

“I can see why,” you nodded, drawing your knees into your chest and looking around. “It’s gorgeous here.”

“It’s quiet here,” she laughed a little. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jackson. Way better than the QZ we were in when I was a kid. It’s a good place with good people. I love the people, truly, I do. But everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone and it’s so hard to have anything for yourself, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s a great place but… it’s definitely a lot.”

You talked a little about your pasts. You told her - vaguely, lightly - about your time before Mitchum. She told you about her time in the Denver QZ and you almost fainted when she said she was only 31 years old.

“How old were you when the world ended?” You gaped at her. “Do you even remember?”

“I was seven,” she laughed. “I remember a bit. How old were you?”

“Older than that,” you replied. “Jesus…”

“Not that old, clearly,” she said, picking a blackberry off a bush and holding it out to you. “This is a good one, you should have it.”

“Old enough,” you replied. “And if it’s good, you should have it.”

“I have them all the time,” she said, stepping close to you. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing when working with the horses all day and you hoped you didn’t smell. She pressed the berry to your lips. “Try it.”

You obeyed, taking the fruit into your mouth and biting into it, the juice bursting on your tongue.

“See?” She smiled. “Told you.”

The two of you ended up back on the blanket and you stretched out on it, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past overhead, arms bare - too hot to wear anything more than a tank top - but not feeling overly exposed. Julie lay next to you, her arm brushing your own.

“Is it weird that I sometimes don’t feel like I missed out?” She asked. You felt her adjust next to you and you glanced her way to see her lying on her side, facing you. “I mean I know there was a lot before that we don’t have now but… I dunno, I guess I still wanted to be a ballerina when the world ended. It doesn’t feel like I really gave up all that much, you know?”

“Think that has as much to do with Jackson as anything else,” you replied, adjusting so that you were facing her. “But I get that, in a way. If I’d found Jackson when I was younger, I think I’d feel the same. Shit, what I’m doing now is exactly what I grew up wanting to do. If it wasn’t for all the time in between, the end of the world would have just turned into me getting just what I wanted. Besides all the death anyway.”

“Think you’re right about the Jackson thing,” she smiled a little. “It’s a special place with good people. Like a few better than the others, though.”

“Yeah?”

She reached out and brushed some of the hair that had fallen from your braid back from your face and trailed her fingers down your cheek and your chin.

“Yup.”

She leaned in then, moving slow and holding your gaze, giving you all the time in the world to stop her if you wanted.

You didn’t.

Her kiss was soft and gentle, her lips smooth on yours. She tasted and smelled sweet and her hand went to your hip, tugging you against her.

Julie’s body was softer than you expected as she pressed against you and, in so many ways, she felt safe and comfortable there. But she felt foreign, too. You’d become accustomed to a different form on yours, one that was larger and broader and firmer.

You tried not to think about him as her kiss deepened, as your hand went to her waist and trailed over her side but stopped short of cupping her breast.

She nudged you onto your back and she settled on top of you, her chest pressed tight to yours, her hips starting to rock gently against you. You ran your hands over her back to the top of her ass but didn’t go lower, not able to shake the subtle wrongness of kissing someone and feeling someone who wasn’t Joel.

After a minute, she pulled away from you.

“I get the feeling you’re not as into this as I am,” she said, panting a little. You opened your mouth to argue but she silenced you with a look. “If I misread things, I’m really sorry. But you should know that you don’t have to fuck me just because I’m trying to fuck you.”

“You didn’t misread anything,” you said quickly.

“Good,” she smiled a little. “But… It doesn’t seem like you’re feeling this.”

You winced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you said. “But… I don’t think I’m feeling what you are.”

“Well shit,” she laughed a little and rolled off you, lying flat on her back beside you. “I really am sorry if I came on too strong or did something you didn’t want…”

You laughed a little.

“Definitely not that,” you said. “Just have… other things on my mind. And you deserve someone’s full attention.”

She turned her head to look at you and you turned yours, too.

“It’s Joel, isn’t it?” She asked. You winced a little. “Sorry, I’m not trying to dig into anything that’s not my business, it just… seemed like you guys split up a while ago so I thought it would be OK. I’m sorry.”

“No, it probably should be,” you said. “It’s got nothing to do with you, trust me.”

“Well,” she said. “At the risk of this being the most awkward hang out ever… want to help me get some raspberries?”

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “I’d like that.”

She smiled.

“Good. Me too.”

It was awkward for a bit, but by the time the two of you started back to Jackson, it was lighter. Easier. Like you’d never kissed at all.

Julie walked with you back to the stables, not too long before you were expecting patrols that weren’t out overnight to return.

“Even with everything today, I hope we can be friends,” she said. “I do actually like you. Not just because I’d like to fuck you.”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’d like that, too,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not… in the same place on the fucking front…”

“I’d rather pretend we never found that out,” she laughed a little. “Maintain some of the mystery. But, you know. If anything changes, it’s a small town. You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” you said.

She turned to leave but seemed to think better of it and turned back.

“If he’s it for you?” She said. “I think you should figure out a way to make it work. No point in wanting something and acting like you can’t have it when it’s right there, you know? And yeah, it’s not really my business and yeah, I don’t know you all that well but… something tells me you’re not going to be feeling any different anytime soon. And I don’t think he is either. Just… my two cents.”

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks, Julie,” you said quietly. She gave your arm a squeeze.

“See you around, Bambi.”

You watched the door she left through for a few minutes after she was gone before you went back to work.

The patrols all made it back without incident, Ellie returning her and Joel’s horses. She asked how things went but you just waved her off and she deflated a bit.

“I keep trying to get some excitement around here,” she said. “You are no fucking help, you know that?”

“I am so sorry my romantic life isn’t more entertaining,” you said wryly. “I’ll work on that. Entirely for your benefit, of course.”

“Well you’re clearly not going to do it for your own.”

You just rolled your eyes as she headed back home. You stayed late at the stables. Not for any real reason, you just didn’t want to be at home alone and going to the mess hall didn’t sound like what you wanted, either. You worked on the moose carving, pleasantly surprised at the progress you’d made on him.

You ended up working on him until, almost suddenly, you realized he was done. Fully formed - or as close to it as you could get him - with four legs and jagged shapes for the antlers. But he looked like a moose, broad and steady and strong. You turned him over in your hand a few times, running your finger over the arch of his back and the curve of his neck.

“What am I going to do with you?” You said quietly, holding it up in front of you, looking where his eyes would be if he had them. The bloodstain was still crimson on his chest.

After a few minutes, you got up off the floor of the stable and did your final check for the evening before locking up behind you and heading home.

You took the long way.

It was dark but not so late that the Tipsy Bison had closed for the night, a warm glow coming from the windows. With the sun down, you were a little cold with bare arms but you didn’t mind. You walked slowly, watching the stars as you went.

You stopped at the end of Joel’s walk. The lights were out. You thought he probably went to bed early - he got tired after a patrol - but he could be at the Bison, too. Either way…

You all but crept up his walk, holding the moose tightly in your fingers. You stopped at the base of his stairs and held the rough-hewn animal in front of your face again.

“Keep an eye on him for me?” You said quietly to the wood. It didn’t say anything back. You stepped as lightly as you could up the stairs but the same step as always squeaked below you. You set the moose on Joel’s doormat before turning to go, making the step squeak again. You made it almost all the way back up the walk when the lights inside turned on and you picked up the pace.

It didn’t matter. You heard the front door open just as you turned onto the street and your eyes darted over toward him before you could help it.

“Bambi?” He called, not too loud. He was in his blue cotton plaid sleep pants and a black t-shirt that hugged his body just right, tight across his shoulders and upper arms, highlighting the soft curve of his stomach. You stopped for a moment and just gave him a tight smile before continuing on home.

When you went to bed, you found yourself looking at the spot on your nightstand where the moose had been before, part of you wishing he was still beside you.

***

“Hey. Hey Joel.”

Joel smiled a little to himself. He recognized Ellie’s tone.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Wanna hear a joke about pizza?”

He sighed, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

“Get the feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.”

“Eh, never mind,” Ellie said, sounding a little put out. Joel looked back at her, frowning slightly. And then she smirked. “It’s too cheesy.”

Joel groaned.

“That one’s bad, baby girl.”

“No it’s not!” She rode up alongside him even though the trail wasn’t really wide enough for that. “That was a good one!”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “It was terrible, three out of 10.”

“Bullshit!”

“What would you give it?” He asked, brows raised. “Because I’m questioning your judgement here…”

“At least a six.”

“No.”

“Yes!” She laughed. “You’ve just got shitty taste, old man.”

“Uh huh,” he laughed. “And what’s that say about you then, hm?”

“Broken clock is right twice a day,” she replied. “You were bound to accidentally do OK every now and then. Will Livingston, however, is right every time.”

“You got that entire book memorized?” He teased lightly. “If not, you gotta be close…”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Saving the best for last.”

Joel just shook his head a little.

He loved patrolling with Ellie. Even more than he thought he would. It was so much like when he’d first come to know her and care for her. It was a time, he realized now, that made him understand that he could still love. That he had it within himself to care for another person, that he could cope with the fear of loss that came with attachment because Ellie was worth it. He liked spending the time just the two of them and getting to know her better as the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl he’d come to know years earlier. She’d grown so much, come into her own in a way that was only possible in a place like Jackson. She had friends and hobbies and had become part of the community there. Every day with her was reassurance that he’d done the right thing. That every life he’d taken that day in the hospital was a worthy price to pay.

Joel had left Jackson with Ellie plenty before patrolling with her, back when she was still speaking to him. Before she found out the truth of everything. He’d loved it then, too. But this was different. She was still his baby girl but they were out here as partners, working together to protect the community they both loved. It was a glimpse of the future they had, one where their lives moved along side by side and he got to watch her find her place and fall in love and have a family of her own and just be happy as herself.

They were only a day out from Jackson now, heading in from a three day long patrol. It was Ellie’s first overnight patrol and she’d been so excited for it, even as she tried to pretend like she wasn’t. The days before they left town, Ellie was over at his house every night, going over the list of what she should bring and looking over the map. She’d lit up when he said they could bring a guitar, something else that made Joel smile.

It had been more than a month since she’d gotten him back into playing, showing up at his house with a guitar and saying she wanted his opinion on something. She played American Girl, one of his favorites, and set the guitar down when she was done.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he’d said, more than a little in awe of her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Bambi,” she replied. “But do you think it’d sound better with two? I feel like it would. But you’re the musician so…”

It was an obvious ploy but it made him smile a little. The idea that Ellie would do that much to make him play again. That you’d help her.

“It might,” he said, getting up to get his instrument. “Let’s give it a try.”

Joel tried to not think of you too much. He usually failed. But he was getting better at not drowning in the memories of you, of not letting the loss of you consume him.

It helped that he’d found a way to care for you while respecting the distance you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to just abandon you, not when he had a sense of how much you were hurting. So he brought you food. Selfishly, it served two purposes. It meant you were, hopefully, eating something. But it also meant he knew that you were still alive. That he could leave a box on your porch, walk by a few hours later, and see that it was gone. He could check on you without forcing you to talk to him and that eased the steady drumbeat of worry inside him.

When he heard you were back at the stables, he shifted from things you needed to things you would want. He brought you the things he found that made him think of you, things he’d have given you when he came home to you in another life.

It also helped that he knew you thought of him, too. At least occasionally, enough that you’d left the carving you’d made on his porch a few weeks before. He thought he was hearing things when the first squeak woke him up from his place on the couch, but then the step squeaked a second time and he was sure he heard it. He’d thought it might be Ellie, needing something but not necessarily wanting to say it. He hadn’t expected to see you heading down the street, the first glimpse of you he’d had in so long. Your arm was out of the cast and you looked good. A bit thinner than you’d been the last time he’d seen you but still good. Still beautiful, still soft with sharp edges. Still what he wanted to sink into and wrap himself up in every chance he got. He picked the moose up and brought it inside, tracing the outline of its frame for a moment. You’d finished it. It was rough, you were clearly a beginner, but you’d finished it and given it to him. His thumb brushed the wound on its heart, where you’d bled. Before he really thought better of it, he brought the figure to his lips and kissed it gently before setting it on the side table and turning out the lights.

The two of you were set to leave Jackson again in just a week, another gap in the patrol schedule that you could leverage to search for Savvy now that you were healed. He hoped this search led somewhere. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living like that, not knowing what happened to your child. The closest he’d come was the torturous time that Ellie was with the monsters who’d taken her in Silver Lake. He was so frantic, so terrified of what he’d find but even more terrified of never finding it to begin with. He needed to save her, protect her. But if he couldn’t do that, he needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know who to destroy before he destroyed himself for letting it happen. Living in that for years would be unbearable.

“Hey Joel?”

He could hear the frown in her voice.

“Yeah Baby Girl?” He looked over his shoulder, Ellie and Shimmer falling behind him again now that the trail had narrowed further. She stopped and so did he.

“That’s something we should be watching for, right?” She nodded toward something off the trail, a small frown on her face. Joel followed where she was looking and he froze in his saddle.

It took an eagle eye to spot it, just brush amongst brush, but it shocked him when he saw it. The gentle arch of a sapling, stretching down toward the ground, held there with rope.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is. Stay with the horses.”

“But…”

“Just one second,” he said, dismounting and going for the trap, trying desperately not to get his hopes up but his heart was racing. It was a common set up for a trap. It could be anyone’s.

This trap was far fresher than the one he’d found with you, the dirt where the pin and been put in the ground still disturbed. The trap itself was still baited and the pins were smooth, almost artistically carved. It hadn’t been here long. He looked around quickly, looking for some indication of where the person who set this trap might have gone. It took some doing - whoever it was covered their tracks well - but he found it, the edge of a boot print.

He went back to his horse and mounted up.

“Ellie,” he said, voice serious. “Need you to listen to me, OK?”

“OK,” she frowned. “Joel, you’re acting weird…”

“We’re gonna track someone,” he said. “But when we find them, need you to not shoot them until we talk to them, OK? And… and if its a teenaged girl, need you to not shoot them even if she pulls a gun on me, OK?”

“A teenaged… Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Just trust me,” he said. “Please.”

He started with the boot print and found little hints of someone moving through the brush from there. Disturbed leaves, a splotch of dirt that looked misplaced, a small branch that had snagged on another when something about human height passed below it.

“Joel,” Ellie said after they’d been tracking for about 20 minutes.

“Still looking,” he said gently. “It’s OK…”

He heard something rustle down low up ahead and he adjusted Ares’ path to check on it. He didn’t need to go far, the source of the sound only about 100 feet away and next to a large rock. Standing there, beside to a large horse and a large dog, was a girl. She was a little taller than Ellie, with gangly arms and legs, a rifle held high in her hands.

“Stop right there!” She said, her voice sharp with a familiar southern twang. The dog moved in front of her, getting down low and bearing its teeth. “Don’t wanna shoot you but I will. You can move right along, this spot’s taken.”

Joel lifted his hands and caught a glimpse of Ellie raising a gun next to him.

“Ellie!” He said sharply. She looked at him, eyes wide. “Gun down. Now.”

“But…”

“Now.”

She huffed but lowered the gun slowly, her eyes back on the girl in front of her.

“Won’t shoot you in the back,” the girl said. “Just turn around and go.”

Joel fought to focus. The girl in front of him… she looked like Sarah, so so much like Sarah. The same shock of curly hair, same brown skin, same bright eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were sisters. He fought to stay here, in the forest with Ellie, not getting swallowed by his own memories. He’d found her. He was all but certain of that now, he’d found her and he was going to bring her back to you.

“You out here on your own?” He asked gently, his hands said up.

“Don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” she said sharply. “All that matters to you is that I will kill you, don’t try me.”

“I understand,” he said. “Not going to hurt you…”

“Bullshit.”

“We’re not,” Ellie snapped.

“Ellie.”

“What!” She said. “Joel, I swear, if she shoots you…”

“Remember what I said,” he replied.

“But…”

“I mean it,” he cut her off. “Don’t, OK?”

He turned back to the girl.

“Not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Just… just hear me out for just a second, OK? We’re from a settlement, about a day’s ride from here…”

“Good for you,” she said. “Better head that way then.”

“It’s a good place,” he said, ignoring her. “With good people. Including… including your mama, I think.”

Her eyes went a little wide and she lowered the gun ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of Ellie’s head whipping around to look at him but he kept his eyes on the girl.

“Your name’s Savannah, right?” He pressed on. “Your mom, she calls you Savvy, right?”

She raised the gun again.

“How’d you know that,” snapped. “You one of the assholes that took her? That it? What, you kill her? Get her to tell you about me first? That what happened?”

“No honey,” Joel said, his throat tight. He’d found her, he’d found your daughter. “No, she… she escaped them, few years back. She got hurt real bad doin’ it, we brought her in, got her fixed up and she stayed. She’s been looking for you but she’s still there…”

“Why should I trust you?” She snapped. “Why should I believe a damn thing you say?”

“Because I know her,” he said. “Been helping her look for you. She’s… I know her. She trains horses, guessin’ she trained the one you’ve got? She trained the one I’m on, too. She runs our stable for us, she…”

“Bambi?” Ellie gaped at him. “Bambi’s her mom? Bambi has…”

“Ellie,” Joel said again, cutting her off and looking back at Savvy.

“She’s there,” he said. “She misses you, she misses you so much. Told me how you liked to read to the horses when you were little. How the dogs liked you better than her. How you’re real good at carving… Recognized your trap, found another one of yours a few months back. She told me how your pins are always smooth and even… Let us take you back with us. Won’t take your guns, just… just come back with us. Please. She misses you so much, she’s been so worried…”

“We’re not people to be afraid of,” Ellie said and Joel glanced her way. She was looking at Savvy now, her face serious. “Well, as long as you’re not an asshole. I know Joel seems scary but he’s not. Promise. He’s safe.”

She lowered the gun slowly, looking between the two of them before looking down at the dog.

“Gattling,” she said. “Heel.”

The dog dropped its defensive stance and went alongside her, looking up and waiting for a command. She looked back at Joel and Ellie.

“You really know my mom?” She asked quietly. “She’s… she’s really alive?”

“She is,” Joel nodded, lowering his hands to the saddle horn. There was a knot in his throat. “And we can take you to her. Please.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“She teaches me stuff about music,” Ellie said quickly. “How to play some stuff on guitar, too, but more about music in general. She’s cool. Really. I’m… I’m sure she wants to see you again. And Jackson’s nice. And so are we. Just come along, OK?”

She took a deep breath, looking down at the dog for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rifle.

“OK.”

***

“She’s in rare fucking form this week,” Olivia said, watching as you steadied Persephone, one of the fillies you were working with.

“She’s just got an independent streak,” you said, the horse’s feet stomping impatiently in the dirt. “That’s OK. I get that. So do the best of us, right?”

She huffed and jerked her large head. You smiled a little.

“You’re sure she’s not gonna throw you?” Olivia asked, sounding a little worried.

“No,” you shrugged. “But I’ve gotten thrown off horses before, nothin’ new. Only way to break her is to break her, no point in stalling. You in a good spot?”

“Think so,” she said, stepping a little further back from the horse as you got ready to mount her.

“Then let’s go,” you said, all but jumping onto Persephone’s back. You barely got your foot in the stirrups before she started really bucking, Olivia moving even further away. You clutched the reins in one hand and let your hips go loose, digging your heels down toward the earth to stay seated. You let your body move with her as she hurled herself through the air, desperate to dislodge you. But you weren’t going anywhere. She gave you a good shake that made you grab the back of the saddle but otherwise, she didn’t get anywhere close to throwing you. After a while, she started to calm, her movements still sharp and harsh but closer to the earth, her hooves staying on the ground more often than not. Eventually, she mostly stilled, just tossing her head and huffing indignantly.

“See?” You said soothingly, reaching forward to pat her neck. “That’s my good girl, you did so well…”

“Bambi,” Olivia said, catching your eye. She nodded toward the gate to the paddock and you frowned a little before you followed her gaze.

Standing there was Joel and Ellie, their reins in their hands. But between them was a girl. She was young, a teenager, with springy curls and brown skin and wide, soft eyes.

You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes and that hair and that skin. For a moment, the world shrank to a small point centered on her and you wondered if, maybe, you’d finally lost your mind. If something had finally broken so thoroughly that you were seeing things.

But you weren’t. She was here. Your daughter was alive and she was here, in Jackson.

“Savvy,” you breathed and Persephone bucked below you. You weren’t paying attention to the horse and you flew off her back and into the dirt, landing with a brain rattling thud. You didn’t care.

You scrambled to your feet, throwing a glance back at Olivia to make sure she had Persephone so Savvy wouldn’t get hurt, and ran for her.

“Mom,” she said, her voice thick as you reached her and pulled her into yourself. You clutched her to your chest until you thought you could feel her heartbeat alongside yours, clinging to her too close to even kiss her or look at her but you needed to feel the life in her first, soak up the vitality of her before someone took it away.

“You’re alive,” you managed, voice thick. You buried your nose and mouth in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re alive, you’re here, you’re OK, you’re…”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said wetly and you pulled back from her just enough to look at her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed as you took her face in your hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, I thought you were gone, I…”

“I’m so sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead before pulling her against you again and clinging to her. “I’m so sorry I let you go, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK Mom,” she said, her hands holding your elbows. “I’m OK, it’s OK, I promise…”

You just held on to her, trying to memorize everything about her that you could. That she was taller now, that her shape had changed, that it seemed like she hadn’t had a chance to really grow into her limbs yet.

You looked up at Joel who was still there, his eyes wet, watching you hold your daughter.

“You found her,” you said softly.

He just nodded.

“Found her,” he said. “Couldn’t have without you, though. With everything you told me about her, was able to find her.”

You just nodded, running your hand down the back of her head as you held her.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, holding her so tight that you were worried you might hurt her but too afraid that she’d slip away to stop. “Thank you.”

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH SAVVY'S HERE!!!!

And Joel found her. I'm so happy that Bambi has her baby back, for real. Things are getting there. I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and sticking with this story! Don't forget that you can get updates on my updates blog here.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

237 notes · View notes