#Man has Trauma and is trying to smile his way through it
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I am yours, but are you mine?
Adam x fem!reader
Summary: You wish Adam could calm his temper down, since you fear he has ruined everything. And they say you’re a bad decision maker.
Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3
tw/cw/notes: COLLEGE AU, sub adam, overstimulation, bondage, rubbing clothed bulge against foot (footjob?), soft dom reader, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ABUSIVE ELEMENTS, Anger issues, implied trauma, poverty mention, please tell me if i have missed smth!!!. TW Adam, misogynistic ideas and views, emotional abusive elements, breeding kink and pregnancy mention
Trying to get out off Adam`s tight grip sure was a hassle. The alarm you set was able to ring for a split second, before Adam turned it off. With the way he wrapped himself around you, you knew he hoped that it didn't wake you. Unlucky for him, you have been half awake for solid 30 minutes now.
Adam was laying on his side, while you were on your back. He was nuzzling his nose into your hair, while his legs and arms were wrapped around you. What a sap. His body hair was scratching you slightly.
“..We need to get up.” You didn't even know if he had classes for the day. He groaned like you just stabbed him.
“Jus` skip for the day. `S not like you’re failing any classes.” He mumbled into your ear.
“Don’t have any classes. I have an Obgyn appointment and have to work a shift.” You simple answered him.
At the mention of the doctor appointment he perked slightly up. Ah shit. You slapped his arm and dug your nails into his skin, remembering how unsafe you were yesterday.
“If you get me pregnant I’m going to make you suffer. I swear on that.” You gritted your teeth at him.
Adam simply chuckled at you, “It takes two to fucking tango, baby...Oh Adam, please Adam!” In the last sentence he pitched his voice higher and imitated your moans. “How could you expect me not to creampie you when you fucking beg so sweetly?”
“…I’m going to bit your dick off.” You flashed your teeth at him.
“Yeah? Didn’t think you’re that damn kinky.” He grinned at you, “Don’t fucking worry, babe, we will pick you up some fucking plan b later.” You’re starting to take that shit like candy. Still, it made you relax.
“..Thank you.” You whispered out, cuddling up against Adam’s chest.
Adam’s hands started to wander across your body, petting you and massaging your body, you were still wearing the bathrobe without anything under it “Whatever you fucking want, you get.” He mumbled in your ear, before kissing your cheek, then your nose and finally your mouth.
What a man.
“I wanna get up.” You whispered out against his mouth. Adam sighed heavily and rested his forehead against your shoulder, “I lied, you will only get nearly fucking everything you want.”
You scoffed at his words, but you couldn’t help but still smile. You raked your fingers through Adam’s hair, your fingers massaging his scalp. You swear you could hear him purr.
“So I only get what’s best for you, basically?”
“ ‘M happy you’re such a smart fucking girl. You catch on sooo damn fast.” He kissed your shoulder, before sitting up. He dragged you up with him.
You both sat propped up against the bed, side on side. Adam’s big arms were wrapped around you, rubbing circles into your skin. He leaned his head on top of your own.
“When is your appointment?” Adam threw the question into the comfortable silence.
“Uhh, hmm, at 12 and my shift starts at 1.” You tried to wrap the over sized robe around you. Part of you knew that Adam already saw everything, the other part of you wanted to hide away.
Adam’s fingers danced across your naked thigh, “You trynna hide away from?” His lip brushed against your ear.
You jolted up, deciding that it’s time to get up. Before you could get far away, Adam grasped your waist into his hands and he pulled you towards him. He settled you between his legs, while wrapping his arms around you. He nuzzled your neck with his nose.
“You sure you don’t wanna stay in fucking bed with me for the day?” His voice was gravely since you both just woke up. It made pure pleasure pool in your stomach. He was really seductive, starting to kiss your neck.
“..Yeah, I’m sure.” Your voice was everything but certain. If he asked you one more time, you were sure you would never leave this bed again.
Adam gave your cheek a last kiss before unwrapping his arms from your mid section. He went to rub your hips, “When does your shift end?” You lean your back against his broad, naked chest.
“Depends on how well we get stuff done during the day. Like, 8:30?” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but Adam didn’t complain. You work at the only music store in town, something your ex used to marvel at since you could reserve him whatever he wanted.
“..Do you even know where I work at?”
Adam scoffed at you, “Of fucking course I do.”
…How though? But you also knew there were questions you didn’t really want the answer to. Let’s just blame everything on your ex and his big fucking mouth.
“Now,” Adam went to squeeze your tits through the soft material of the bathrobe, “flash me a fucking tit so I can get through the day.”
Oh, you hated him.
You went to elbow Adam’s stomach while you felt yourself getting flustered. Fighting through his arms you set yourself down at the edge of the bed. Looking to your left, where Adam was still propped up, he was smiling at you. Unlike you, he wasn’t flustered in the slightest.
“What’s your secret? How do you never get flustered?” You decide to ask Adam. He raised a pierced brow at you.
“Babe, you think I never lose my mind around you?” Adam sat up more, throwing one leg over the bed while leaning over to you, “Every time I see you, I have to do shitty breathing exercises so I don’t rip your clothes off.”
Your heart speed up to an unhealthy degree.
“I’m going to go into cardiac arrest because of you.” You decided on telling him, while trying to hide your face away behind your hand. Avoiding his golden eyes, you decide on looking away. Man, does he have many guitars and band posters plastered everywhere.
“Awww, my poor baby. Is your heart going crazy for me?” He cooed at you condescendingly.
“Shut up.” You told him, oh so intelligently.
Reaching out towards him, you placed your hand on his chest, over his heart. Feeling the strong and fast paced beating of his heart behind his chest calmed you down. So he is as nervous as you. Or he’s just excited.
Adam placed his own hand on your chest, over your heart. It thrummed against his hand. You made a fist on Adam’s chest,
“The heart is as big as a fist….” You mumbled out, remembering the fact from biology class in elementary school. Your fist looked comedically small on Adam’s chest, the thought of Adam having such a small heart made you smile.
Adam formed his own hand into a fist, over your chest. Shit, it’s big. Ah.
“..You got a big heart, huh?” You asked him, with a smile.
Adam moved his hand from your chest, to your own hand. He was able to completely wrap around his own hand over your fist. Your heart fluttered uncomfortable in your chest, like a flighty bird. He moved to kiss your hand gently.
“….Need that big heart, baby, to be able to pump my massive fucking dick full with blood.” Ah. Fucker.
“Alright.” You shook your hand out of his. Way to ruin a moment.
You moved to stand up, stretching out your arms over your head.
“You know, I never told anyone this, but my dick’s so goddamn big, when I get hard I get fucking light headed. I swear! S’cause all my blood goes into my big dick. Did I mention how fucking hung I am, yet?” He told you proudly, still sitting on the bed.
You scoffed at him, but you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. Making your way to your bag, you fished out your panties. Hearing Adam get up from the bed, you decide to focus on getting dressed. Damn, Adam properly folded your clothes into your bag. You didn’t think Adam knew how to fold clothes. Why’s he better at packing your bag than you are?
Slipping into your panties, you decided to see what Adam was up to. He stood a few meters away from you infront of the window, watching you with keen eyes.
Adam was a beautiful man, you could appreciate that much. The warm light from the window illuminated his broad form and light brown olive skin. It bundled up around his head, reminding you of a halo. His build made you think of that of a football player, who can’t say no eating out. He was rubbing his jaw while smirking at you.
He looked away for a moment, showing off his side profile. His roman nose shape fit him incredibly well. What it would feel like to sit on it?
While he was looking away, you took the opportunity to put your focus back on getting dressed.
Rummaging through your bag some more, you pulled out your jeans, tank top and sweatshirt. Throwing on the tank top and then sweatshirt, you jumped into your jeans. Literally. Adam was busy getting dressed himself. He seemed to contemplate which hoodie he should wear.
Poking his side, you stood behind him, while he stood in front of the closet. He startled a bit at your sudden appearance, but quickly relaxed again.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” You say, your eyes focused on the space below his nape.
It’s small, easily hidden by shirts and tops. There were delicate wings engraved into his skin, spanning across his trapezius. But at most it was 12 centimetre wide. With such a flashy guy, you expected the wings to cover his whole back.
Adam simply hummed, “I would ask you if you had a tattoo, but, babe, I saw every inch of that fuckable body. Can’t fucking hide much from me.”
Rolling your eyes at him, you dragged your nails down his back, over the scratches you left. Stepping towards his side, you took a good look at the marks you left on his neck. Damn, it’s like a painting.
“You sure you don’t want to wear a turtleneck?” You asked him, while gently grazing your fingers over the hickeys and bit marks you left.
Adam puffed himself up, like a peacock. His proud smirk stretched across his plush lips,
“Nah, I’m going to wear these like fucking war paint. You don’t want me to show off the evidence off our hot as hell fuck session? You marked me up pretty fucking good, baby. Didn’t think you were the possessive type.” He chuckled at you.
Were you possessive? You never truly thought you were overly jealous. Since Adam wasn’t your boyfriend, you didn’t really care. As long as he didn’t give you an STD or expose you, everything was cool.
“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You told him.
“Oh, and how well I fucking sleep at night. Especially when I dream of that sweet fucking cunt wrapped around my godlike dick.” He told you, with that sleazy tone of his.
Scratching your ear, you rolled your eyes at his remark. Because of him your eyes are going to be stuck like that one day. Pulling his a hoodie over his head, he made sure that his neck was visible. Asshole.
He put his hand on your back and let it wander downwards, towards your jeans packet. Slipping his big hand into it, he gave your ass an generous squeeze. Wrapping your own arm around him, you rested your head against his chest. He pulled you tighter against him.
“What’s for breakfast?” You decide on asking him.
Adam scratched his chin, visualising the contents of his fridge.
“Uhhh, you like bacon and eggs?” He looked down at you, “Don’t tell me you’re one of these freaky fucking vegans.”
What an obnoxious fucking guy.
“..Adam. Just make the damn breakfast.”
Seeing Adam actually stand at the stove and cook for you was unreal. You had your phone in your hand, reading through the messages your friends left. (“Dick so good you literally stood us up??” “u guys fink if i ask him @ practice for some tipps that he will give em to me?” “Bro…”)
Adam putting down a plate in front of made you look up from your doom scrolling, putting the phone into your jeans pocket, you looked at him sitting besides you on the kitchen island. Arm to arm. Yeah, when he said he doesn’t believe in personal space you immediately bought that. No other sources needed for that.
Mumbling out a quick thanks for the food, you took your fork into your hand and started to dig in. It was subtle, and you would have nearly missed it. Adam bowed his head slightly before he started to eat, his hands intertwined. It was a quick moment. He prays before he eats? Is he a christian? Why aren’t you surprised…..
Somebody should remind him off the whole chastity thing.
Simply continuing to eat, you were honestly surprised at how good the food tasted.
“You wanna be my trophy husband?” You asked him through a mouth full of food.
Adam laughed at the question, “Babe, I fear my taste is too expensive for you.”
You simply hummed at his words. That’s true. Sadly. Hopefully your degree pulls you out of poverty. Or you’re going to have to marry rich. Glancing at Adam, you wonder what it would be like to be married to him. Probably lots of sex. Together with many children running around, because that man doesn’t know how to pull out.
Adam finished his food before you did, his greedy ass. Shoving the last piece of bacon into your mouth, you thought about how long ago it was when you last ate meat. It’s too expensive. But simply breathing was also expensive.
When you got a full ride scholarship, you thought you won in the lottery. Well, no debt is better than nothing. But with the way the cost of living rises and you’re too tired to pick up more shifts, since if your grades slip you lose the scholarship, there’s not much for you to do. Expect eat bread and drink tap water.
At this point maybe you should just let Adam get you pregnant.
Adam took your plate and fork, together with his own, he put everything into the dishwasher. What a man.
“You know, usually it’s the woman who serve their men.” Never-mind, you hope he dies.
Scoffing at his words, you massaged your forehead, “Oh yeah? Aren’t you supposed to be a provider? As the man?”
Adam came up behind you, he placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging your tense muscles.
He leaned his head down towards your ear, “Want me to provide for you, baby? I’d keep your greedy pussy stuffed full while fulfilling all your other wishes and desires.”
God, why does that turn you on? You need some serious self reflection. Are you about to become a sugar baby for Adam? Without hesitation…..
Making eye contact with Adam was a pain. God you’re so down bad. The grin he worse was predator like. Yeah, being financially dependent on Adam would be a bad idea. What would happen if he was mad at you? He’d cut you off and you have to starve?
Be logical, be responsible.
You leaned forward, biting into his cheek lightly.
“That’s a yes, babe? What do you need from me to have you be fully fucking mine?…Want a proper fucking date, baby?” His eyes were soft.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, “Sure, and next we will get married with, like, 8 children.” (Accidental manifestation??)
Getting up from your chair, you stretched your muscles in an attempt to be casual.
Adam being this quite was a bad sign. Looking back at him, when you reciprocated his eye contact, with his yearning eyes, he chuckled bitterly and slightly shook whatever emotion he felt off. He grasped your shoulder into his hand and lead you towards the front door.
“…I think it’s time for us to go. Go brush your teeth and put on your jacket, I’m going to grab your bag.” He sounded…down. Sulky, even. And he didn’t use one swear word.
Who pissed in his coffee that he turns from number one lover boy to the saddest, most pathetic guy alive?
The amount of if time you needed to brush your teeth then to put on your jacket and shoes is all Adam needed to get your bag and brush his own teeth. He put the bag on the floor between you guys, while putting on his leather jacket with studs and slipping into his doc martens. Sexy.
Grabbing your bag and swinging it over your shoulder, you were ready to leave. You were stopped in your movements by Adam, who grabbed your shoulder and kissed you. While you were busy swallowing his tongue down, Adam’s fingers slipped under your bag strap and he took it off you. He put the bag over his own shoulder.
Putting his big, warm hand over your lower back, he escorted you to his car. The walk was quite. Which was uncomfortable, considering Adam is such a big talker. He really does love the sound of his own voice.
Were you going to talk with him about it?
Hell nah.
Avoidance till the end.
Maybe your ex had a point when he called you a gold digging whore behind your back.
Sitting in the passenger seat, you looked at Adam who seemed still pissy. Man.
“You wanna try something out tonight?” You decided on asking him, leaning over the seat.
You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him with puppy eyes. It’s your attempt to surrender. To say sorry.
A small smirk appeared on Adam’s lips, “Whatcha thinking off, perv?” He decided on asking you. Fucker.
You dragged your finger across his chest, drawing heart patterns, “..How about you be the one submitting for once?”
Adam took your hand into his own, giving your knuckles a kiss.
“For you, baby? I’d do fucking anything….Except cuckholding that shit is the fucking worst.” His hand was on your thigh now, rubbing circles into your plush flesh.
You nodded at him eagerly. You were going to make him your bitch.
First the pharmacy was hit up, you waited in the car while Adam brought the Plan B and a water bottle. Next he let you out at your doctors office, he gave you a quick kiss, before confirming the time again 8:30 PM at your work place.
——————
Adam stood with Lute in the gym hall, watching the girls run their warm up laps. They stood a few feet away, to have their pretend privacy when discussing their latest sex adventures. Adam does more disclosing than Lute, if he’s being honest.
“How is it going with…Her?” Lute carefully asked Adam, knowing that he seems extra sensitive when it comes to you.
Adam shifted from one foot to the other, dragging his hand over his mouth.
“..It’s okay.” Was his simple answer.
Lute raised her brow at Adam, knowing that nothing is just okay with Adam. Either it was horrible or fan-fucking-tastic, but not okay. Never just okay. Lute put her hands on her hips, looking at Adam intensely, who voided her eyes.
“And she ditched our sleepover for him! In the middle of the night. She didn’t even do that for her shitty ex, we were always the number one priority!” Dymphna not so subtly whisper yelled at her girlfriend.
“I know…He really must be a sex god…” Monica agreed with Dymphna, while both off them looked over towards Adam. Those gossiping bitches.
“…Is that why you were late to practice today? You were having your own sleepover with your new babe?” Lute asked him.
Adam clapped his hands together, while walking towards the girls, “Alright, sluts! Enough with the warm up, let’s start with the pussy pounding!”
——————
The appointment basically washed over you like a fever dream. Since it was just to discuss birth control options, you didn’t need to spread your legs for your doc. Which was a relief conserving just yesterday Adam came deep inside you.
Once you repeated your medical history, she agreed that hormonal birth control wasn’t the best choice for you. Sure, you could try out different versions of the pill but honestly? You didn’t want to sacrifice your mental health for Adam’s dick. It’s good but not that good.
So the copper IUD it is.
Alright, she said she can insert it during your next period (which hopefully will come), in roughly 10 days.
She gave you a cost estimate, which you send over to Adam.
[Adam Godfree]: that’s it lol 12:30PM
[Adam Godfree]: you have paypal or smth 12:30PM
[Reader]: [email protected] 12:33PM
[Adam Godfree]: send baby 12:35PM
[Reader]: You send too much. I will send it back once I’m at work. 12:35PM
[Adam Godfree]: naw keep it babes 12:35PM
[Adam Godfree]: it’s also for ur ripped thigights 12:36PM
[Reader]: Tights don’t cost 200$. 12:36PM
[Adam Godfree]: idgaf 12:36PM
[Adam Godfree]: you send it back to me i send even more 12:37PM
Are you………..A whore?……..….A prostitute?
Well 200$ is 200$ so you won’t complain…..You should really visit a church soon.
Work also passed through you, basically. Peter and you basically speed ran this whole shift. You were about to lock the front door, since you usually leave through the back door, when a guy ran to the door. Totally not creepy.
He was blond, sickly pale and shorter than you and he looked down right pathetic. Sighing heavily, you opened the door a bit.
“Sorry, we are closed.” You told him.
“I know! And I am sooo sorry! It’s just, I ordered something for pick up here. It’s for my wife! It’s our anniversary today! It won’t take long, I promise. Pleaseeee?” He pleaded.
Wife?? He looked to be around your age. In his hand he held the collection slip. Man, you really are a sucker. Opening the door fully, you let the guy in. You snatched the slip from his hand and made your way to the back, where you met Peter who did the last of the inventory.
“You really can’t say no, huh?” He decided on asking you, smiling at you sympathetically.
“Shut up. Where’s that damn microphone? Why can’t the others keep order? Why are we the only competent ones?” You were about to lose your mind, breakdown incoming.
Ah, there it is. Grasping the package into your hands, you made your way back to the cash register. Scanning the package, you told the blond twink with the reddest cheeks known to man his total.
“Oh, by the way, there’s a rumour going around that you left the last party with Adam?” Peter called out to you, from the back. Ah shit.
“…That’s crazy.” You said out loud.
Well, at least now you know it’s your face that gives your lies away and not your voice, by the way the blond guy grinned at you. The customer gave you the total, while you fished out his change.
“I know! That’s what I also said!” Peter said. Just, be quiet Peter.
“Adam? Adam Godfree?” He quietly asked you, while looking giddy.
You nodded shamefully at him, no use in lying when you’re so bad at it. You felt the guys eyes crawl all over you, checking you out. Doesn’t he have a wife?
“Well, Adam did always have an immaculate taste in woman.” His tone was charming, it made you uncomfortable. You put the change money into his hand, and he intervened your fingers.
“..I hope your WIFE…will enjoy this gift, for your guys ANNIVERSARY.” You told him with a strict tone of voice, while shaking your hand out of his.
“Oh, wait, no it’s okay! We-“ You couldn’t careless, you’re sadly a hardcore monogamist.
Walking across the counter, you grasped his shoulder and lead him towards the door, “Goodbye and visit us again!”
This time when he looked at you like a pathetic puppy, you didn’t open the door. You locked the door, for real this time, while waving goodbye at him.
Taking the broom into your hand, you did one final sweep of the store. Peter also finished up, you both checked everything one last time, before activating the alarm system and leaving through the back door. Peter threw away the trash, and you both made your way to the street.
Seeing Adam stand besides his car, by the passenger seat and Peter glancing at you made you want to hurl.
“..That’s crazy, right?” Peter laughed a bit at you, “Well, you did smell like Axe. I just thought you got back together with your ex…Again. This is…better? I’m happy for you.” He moved his hand while talking to you.
You avoided eye contact, “Yeah, yeah…Just keep quiet, please.”
Peter and you made your way further towards Adam. Peter laughed some more at you, while ruffling your hair.
Adam watched you two with sharp eyes, and when he saw Peter touch you, he glared at him like Peter was his Nr 1 enemy. Saying goodnight to Peter, you walked towards Adam.
Adam wrapped his arm around you, while throwing one last nasty look at Peter, he shielded you away from Peters amused eyes.
“..Are…Are you jealous? Of..Peter?” You giggled at Adam’s pouty face.
He grumbled something incoherent, before crashing his lips into yours. That shameless guy, devouring you in public. At least there aren’t any people around. Once he started to grope you, you shook him off you.
“Let’s get going, you voyeur.” You patted his big arm, while he still held on to your hips.
“Is it so wrong of me to want people to know who you belong to, baby?”
Giving him a light slap on the chest, you winded yourself out off Adam’s grip and opened the passenger seat door, getting into the car. Adam got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a simple press of a button.
He started the way to your apartment, with his hand resting on your thigh. He massaged your skin through your jeans and let his hand wander further upwards, towards your pussy. Alright, two can play this game.
Placing your own hand on his thigh, you dragged your own nails slightly over his jeans, towards his crotch. Softly gracing your fingers over his already hardening dick, you pressed your palm over his bulge. The car swerved slightly, when you did just that.
“Oh my god, Adam, drive normally please. I don’t want to die yet.” You told him, while removing your hand from his dick and placing it on his hand. You took his hand from your own crotch and placed his hand back on your thigh.
“Ugh, baby, sorry. You just make me loose my fucking mind. Cmon, give daddy a blowjob while he drives you home.” Adam kept looking between you and the street.
“Dude, I won’t risk our lives just because you’re horny. You will have to wait.” You scoffed at him, settling to look out the window, while Adam zoomed you both home.
Adam groaned at your words like you just stabbed him, and he pressed down harder at the gas pedal.
Once you arrived at your apartment complex, Adam parked his car. You then got out of the car, grabbing your bag. Adam snatched it up from you before you could put your bag on.
“Ah, what a gentleman you are. And people say chivalry is dead.”
“Don’t fucking worry, I’m hoping after this you will suck my dick real nice.”
You were going to bit it off, actually.
You don’t get why you like Adam. You’re down bad for him. He smiles at you, your pussy gets wet. He’s sleazy and an asshole and probably has a few STDS and you still invite him into your bed. You should really talk this over with your friends, maybe they can put some sense into your dick obsessed brain. You weren’t even into your ex that much??
Adam gave you a spank on the butt, while chuckling at you.
“Oh, I’m going to make you suffer.” You told him cheekily.
“Fuck, you promise, bitch?” Adam seemed more eager than you.
Maybe you like Adam so much, because he’s so into you. He can’t stop touching you, he borderline stalks you, he hates when other guys touch you or even look at you. He’s deliciously toxic. He wants to baby trap you. He sends you money. Dream man right here.
Walking up the stairs towards your apartment with Adam hot on your trail. Unlocking the door, you lead Adam into the small space which you call yours. A shitty studio apartment, stuffed full with trinkets and memories.
You both took off your shoes and jacket and man you were impatient. You needed him inside you stat. Before Adam was even done taking his jacket off, you were already caressing his chest. Stepping forward to him, you got on your tippy toes to kiss his neck.
Adam carelessly threw the jacket on the floor, he then grasped the nape of your neck and crashed your lips together. Lots of tongue, teeth clashing into each other and spit being exchanged. It was messy and lowkey nasty, just the way you liked it.
His hands moved toward your tits, squeezing and groping you. His hand moved under your sweatshirt and tank top, pinching your nipples gently.
You grasped Adam’s hoodie strings into your hands, tugging him towards your bed with it, while your lips were still connected. It was like you were tugging on his leash. That was a hot thought. Maybe you should collar him?
Sitting down at the edge of the bed, you tugged Adam down towards you. He placed his hands down besides your legs on the bed, but you gently pushed him away from you.
He furrowed his brows at you, his lips in a pout.
Giggling at his charmingly pathetic face, you pushed him down on his knees.
“What? Did you forget that you were going to be my plaything for tonight?” You asked, rather confidently. Yay for you! No shaky voice! Let’s see how long that will hold on.
“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re bossy with me, baby.” Adam grinned at you, the bulge in his pants was straining against the zipper and the jeans cloth.
Never-mind, one shitty compliment from Adam and you’re weak. Your stomach did flips, and you had to cover your face to keep your composure. Deep breaths, you can do this. You can top this 6’6 guy who is wider than a fucking closet. Oh, once again you bit off more than you could chew.
You put your foot on Adam’s chest, wanting to trail it downwards but he grabbed your calf and started kissing upwards, towards your knee.
“How many times can you cum in one session?” You asked him with a hitched breath.
Adam looked caught off guard by your question, but he quickly was able to catch himself.
“You wanna suck out my whole fucking life essence, huh? I dunno, I can give you a few for sure. Let’s see where my limit is, till I tap out.” He nuzzled his stubbly cheek into the skin of your shin.
Before you could even open your mouth to ask him something, the sound of a guitar riff ringed through your little studio apartment. Man. Blinking at Adam, with the way a scowl formed on his pretty face you guessed that’s his phone ringing. You recognise the guitar sound from one of his songs.
Adam fished out his phone from his back pocket, “What the fuck do you want!?” He nearly yelled into the offending object.
You couldn’t make out what the person on the other line is saying, or who it is. Is it a girl? Is he going to leave for another booty call? Does she give better head than you?
“How the hell do you break your fucking drum sticks?” Adam got up from his kneeling position, now he was towering over you.
Oh, it’s just Judas….Damn your ex really has great timing.
Adam smirked down at you, while he stood in between your legs. He placed his hand below your breasts, trailing it downwards while finally tugging at the waist band over your jeans roughly,
“Why don’t you get fucking undressed already, baby?” Adam held the phone, like, 2cm away.
So obviously Judas heard that bit. Adam rolled his eyes at whatever Judas was saying on the phone. Adam sighed heavily while scratching his nose. You covered your mouth to giggle at Adam’s despair. Whatever, you had to pee anyway.
Rolling yourself out of bed, you made your way to the bathroom, while Adam was swearing endlessly at your ex for being a fucking idiot. Adam could bash his head against a wall, first he has to talk to the useless guy he regularly cucks and now he couldn’t even look at your pretty face to cheer him up.
Well, at least he could snoop around. Your space consisted of a bed (too small), a desk and chair (old and ugly), and a few shelves with a closet (all mismatched with chipping paint). It was all stuffed full with trinkets, books and a few houseplants. Pictures of you and your friends were hung up all over place, obvious gasp were in between the pictures. When he took a look inside your half full trash can, he saw trashed pictures of you and your ex. There were no pictures of your family, or from when you were a child.
“I don’t give a fuck if you still miss your ex, go into the store and buy new fucking sticks and moongel. Or else I’m going to find out why your parents restricted your online banking.” With that Adam hung up on Judas.
Looking more around, Adam spotted a picture of you on the beach in a bikini. The point of view was from above, you were squatting on the ground while looking up from your sunglasses. A sandcastle was formed besides you. A beautiful smile was stretched across your glossy lips. There was a clear shot of your cleavage and your plush, milky thighs pressed together. Adam removed the picture from the pinboard and pocketed it for himself.
All across your room where little reminders posted, together with their dates. Some are from a few months ago, while others are only a few days old. He found one which said “Text back Adam!!!!”
On one wall he saw a dart board, he saw a shitty printed out pictures of a few professors he recognised from campus, while the one in the middle was a picture of Judas. Obviously cut out from a couple pictures, there were a few darts stuck in his face. Now that made Adam laugh.
He heard the toilet flush, so he knew he didn’t have long. Now, where do you store your underwear? Opening your closet, he rummaged through your box of bras and panties. He heard the door unlock, but it was hard to hear your footsteps. You’re a quiet walker. Right as you got around the corner, Adam pulled out a sexy thing which was baby pink, with little heart formed in the lace.
“Why don’t you wear this for me?” Adam let it dangle from his finger, watching your face get flustered.
Snatching the bra away from Adam, you threw it back into the closet and closed the door quickly,
“You call me a pervert while you’re the one going through my underwear?” You decided on asking him.
Adam was still kneeling on the floor, he was in between your closet and the end of the bed. You sat down at the end of the bed, Adam turned to face you.
“Want to start?” You whisper into the air.
“Hell yeah, babe.” Adam put his hands on your knees, rubbing at your pants.
“..You think we need a safe word for you?” You mumble out.
“Naw, babe, we just going to do it the old school way and use ‘No’ and ‘Stop’. I’m not into that fucking hardcore BDSM shit. Had a girlfriend who liked it rough, started freaking even me out. Like, who’s into fucking knives?” You really wish you knew which girlfriend that was.
Shaking your head slightly, to get your head back into the game. Only Adam matters right now.
Placing once again your foot on Adam’s body, just this time on his broad chest, plushy chest. Trailing your foot downwards, you dug your toes into his soft, thick stomach. Till you reached his growing bulge, you pressed the heel of your foot down at the bulge.
Adam hissed at the feeling of the pressure.
“Going through my underwear….very..naughty…?” Oh you’re such a bad dirty talker, Adam bit his lip to keep the laughter in.
“Oooooo, I’m so fucking naughty, please punish me mummy.” Adam got out through laughter.
You glared at Adam, you really were tempted to actually slam your foot down on his dick full force. You wouldn’t, but the fantasy of it calmed you down a bit. Rubbing at your face, in hopes of hiding your blush, you took a few deep breaths. Man, you’re a really bad sex haver.
“You’re starting to piss me off, you either get off with my foot or not at all.” You scowled at him.
Adam blinked at you with surprised eyes, “You’re fucking joking.”
You raised your brow at him, removing your foot from him, “Well, guess it’s time to go to bed then?”
Adam grasped your ankle into his hand, placing it back on bulge, “..Jesus, not so fast, bitch.”
Clicking your tongue at him, you looked into his hot eyes, with your own bored ones.
Adam moved his hand to wards the ball of your foot and pressed the heel back down on his hard bulge, even through the jeans you could feel heat emitting from him. Ugh, dream man.
His face was flushed, even the tip of his ears turned shades darker. Finally he looked like how you always felt around him. He was breathing heavily, while he looked down. He’s probably putting his pride away. Cute. You weren’t going to stress him. Flexing your toes slightly, you saw that you still wore your flower socks. You shifted slightly, rolling your stiff neck.
Adam ground the heel of your foot into his bulge, while still grasping the ball of your feet. He was biting his lip. He started to move your back and forth, dragging it along the arch of your foot.
“You’re soo good for me, Adam.” You tried to encourage him, or to get a sound out of his bitten lips.
“Ha…Shut up…Fuck.” Is all you got out of Adam, together with a half moan-half sigh. Hmm. Let’s try something out.
“I can’t wait to feel your dick inside me again, Adam, You always make me full so good…I have never felt so stuffed full. Especially when you cum inside me, I always hope it takes…..that you knock me up, finally..” God now you’re flustered again. Adam’s movements got faster.
“Shit, shit..Haaaha..I’d get you pregnant so fucking fast if you’d let me…” Adam spoke through gritted teeth, talking about his own twisted fantasies seemed to spurn him on.
“Yeah? You promise?” You asked him breathless.
“Fuck yeahhhh-“ He throws his head back and groans, “I’d move you in with me, would take care of you soo well. Have you be my little pretty housewife……All you have to do all day is be my…Ughhhh..be my breeding biiiitch…” Adam moaned out, the thought of that seemed to be his dream.
It’s also yours if your exams keep being so hard.
It took Adam only a few more thrusts of his hips to cum and soil his pants. You saw a wet spot form on his jeans. He let go of your feet, while his chest heaved. He continued to kneel on the floor while looking up at you. Oh right, you’re the one giving commands now.
Making grabby hands at him, to invite him into the bed, Adam near pounced on you. He picked you up by your hips and threw you into your pills of pillows. A surprised gasp left your lips.
“You’re such a fucking a bitch. If you ever tell anyone about this, I will fucking suffocate you with one of your pillows.” Adam said, while throwing a stuffed animal at you.
You couldn’t help but laugh at him, “I was so proud of you!”
He scowled some more at you, kneeling at the end of the bed, like a good boy.
Patting the spot on the bed next to yours, you watched as Adam laid down besides you. He was still flushed, but thanks to his darker complexion it wasn’t as visible. Lucky guy.
Throwing your leg over his hips, you straddled his lap fully. Grasping the edge of his hoodie, you tugged it off him. Exposing his soft torso, you gave him a kiss on the lips. It wasn’t your intention to have a deep kiss, but Adam grasped your hips into his hands and shoved his tongue down your throat. You moaned into the kiss. Once his hands started to wander, you stopped the kiss.
Grasping Adam’s hands into your own, your pressed them into the mattress by his wrists.
“No touching.” You murmured into his ears.
He whined at you, “Cmonnnnnnnn…” Once your hand left his wrists they immediately shoot back towards your skin. It’s like a magnet.
Grumbling at him, you decided to glare at him. Should you tie him up with your bed sheet or something? Wait…
“Wait! I have something…” Jumping off of Adam and the bed, you rummaged through your closet. Finally making contact with a mix of plastic and cardboard, you pulled out a pair of still packaged handcuffs. There was pink fluff on them.
Proudly showing those to Adam, you waited for his reaction.
“Pfftt, babe, if those fit, shit, who am I to say no to your cute face?” Adam laughed breathlessly at you.
Skipping over to him, you leaned over and stuck your hand under your pillow, feeling around. Pulling out your pocket knife, you pulled out the blade and carefully cut into the cardboard backing. Closing and putting the knife back, you pulled out the cuffs, together with 2 sets of keys. Best not to lose those.
You turned towards Adam, who stuck his wrists out. Carefully putting on the cuff around his one wrist, you locked it in,
“Is that okay?” You gently asked him.
Adam moved the cuff around and even stuck a finger through the loop, showing that he has enough room, “Never been better.” He leaned towards you and gave your cheek a kiss.
“Okay, that’s good. Just say the word and at will remove those ASAP! I will also cuff the other wrist, but, well…Hmm..I kind of want to sit on your face and I don’t know how well I can do that with your wrists restrained against the headrest….” You looked at Adam while speaking, and he turned happier and happier the more you spoke.
His hands moved towards your waist, picking you up while he laid down bellow your pillows. He placed you on his stomach. You took of your own sweatshirt and tank top, giving Adam a nice view of your tits. Since he wasn’t restrained, his hands immediately went to fondle your boobs. Tugging and pinching at the nipples.
“Take of your clothes.” You told Adam, while shimming out of your own pants and underwear. Ugh you already soaked through yours.
Adam buckled his hips up to take off his boxers and jeans. Yeah, he can’t wear these out anymore until they have been washed. Whoops. His dick was already half hard again, begging for attention. He kicked his clothes over the end of the bed. This is a problem for morning you.
Adam rubbed a hand over his cheeks and chin, “Take a seat baby, it’s aaaalllll yours for the taking.” He seemed more happy about this than you.
You laughed a bit at his antics, and then slowly but surely made your up, towards his face. Kneeling over his watering mouth, you got a bit nervous.
“What if-“ Before you could even finish your question, Adam pulled you down on his face by your hips.
He didn’t waste anytime in devouring you. His tongue licked a strip up your pussy, his tongue piercing made you nearly sob from the delicious sensation. His hand were rubbing up and down, on your hips, on your thighs, even over your stomach.
Once he was sure he licked up every drop he could, he decided to explore your pussy from the inside with his tongue. Sticking his tongue in your pretty hole, he sucked up every bit of your juices he could. You were divine.
You tangled your hands into his soft hair. You don’t get how it can be so healthy, shiny and thick with the way Adam uses Axe 3 in 1 shit, but here he was. One beautiful man. The beautiful man who was devouring you, like it was his last meal.
Adam wrapped his lips around your clit, and he sucked. Hard. You pressed your thighs tightly around Adam’s face, while your body bends forward. You were moaning and gasping at this point.
“Adam! Fuck! You’re….Ahh..You’re doing sooOhhooo good.” You praised him, since he did deserve that. Man is he amazing.
Looking back at Adam’s lower half, you saw that he was at full mast now. Reaching behind you blindly, you patted around Adam’s pubic area until you grasped his thick dick into your hand. Precum was leaking like crazy from his cock, coating the tip completely. You messily started jerking him off, coating him now fully in precum.
Adam groaned into your clit, causing pleasure to spike through your spine. Man, you were close. Adam probably knew that, since he was the only person to make you cum till now. Well, expect yourself of course.
“You’re the best and only one I will ever haaahhaaavee..Jesus, You hnng..got a magic tongue, haa?” You encouraged him through gasps and moans. Nothing seemed to make him happier then when you praises him.
Adam’s sucking and licking increased in intensity, while you felt his dick start to twitch in your hand. You focused on massaging his tip, and sweeping with your thumb over his piercing. He groaned into pussy. His hands never left your skin, bruseing touches were massaged into your thighs and hips.
“Ah, Oh fuck….’m cuhhhuming.” You called out.
You grinned down your clit against his big nose, riding out your toe curling high. Adam’s dick did one last twitch and he came all over your hand, and his stomach and chest. You breathed heavily and got off of Adam’s face.
Adam’s face chased chased after your pussy, between your spread legs. He gave your clit a kiss, which caused you to whine out in overstimulation, while your hips twitched. His lips attached to your thighs and he started sucking hickeys into the skin.
You dragged your nails into Adam’s scalp, massaging him. He continued lazily sucking more marks into your skin.
“You ready for the next round?” You decide on asking him.
Adam looked up at you with half lidded eyes, is it two and done for him?
Taking his face into your hands, you brushed a thumbed over his cheekbone.
“..I want nothing more than for you to fuck my brains out. Just gottta give me a hot second, baby.” He told you, his own hand covered yours while he looked into your eyes.
You hummed at his words, you took his hand moved it towards your breast. Letting him play and fondle with your tits. He sat up more to lick and suck at your one breast, while massaging the other. He left hickeys around your nipple.
His dick was starting to come back to life, full on hard and ready to go. You tugged him off you and pushed at his shoulder to make him lay down on his back. You sat down on his warm, soft stomach, trying to avoid his cum. Sadly for you, Adam came in buckets, so you couldn’t really avoid that. You took Adam’s wrists into your hands. You lopped the handcuff through your bed post, and put his last wrist into said cuff.
He was now fully restrained.
“This okay?” You decided on asking him.
“Fuckkk yeah, you’re so hot, babe.” Adam tugged at the cuffs slightly, to see how much they could take.
You kissed Adam’s cheek, then his neck and chest. You gave his nipple a light pinch with your finger, before sucking on the other one. You gave his nipple a light bite, the bar of his piercing clang against your teeth.
Adam tugged at his restraints while groaning. Hips buckled up into the air. You removed your lips with a pop. Gliding down, you rubbed your pussy against Adam’s hard dick. He angled his hips so that he could get more stimulation out of you.
You pressed down his hips back into the mattress, “Stay down. Don’t you want to be good?”
“….Wanna be good. Please. Hop on my dick.” Adam begged.
You never thought Adam would be the one begging for something, but you weren’t complaining. You aligned Adam’s dick with your entrance, and you started to slowly slide down on his dick. No matter how much you guys fuck, he always stretches you out. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp.
Adam watched the way his dick slowly disappeared inside your hot, velvety cunt with intense eyes. He needed a lot of his will power to not start thrusting his hips upwards. Fucking you silly from below. He dug his nails into his palm.
You finally were all the way down, it took you a bit to adjust to his sheer size. Gridding down on his dick and pubic bone, you moaned at the amazing feeling. Adam hissed at the feeling of your fluttering cunt around him. Adam thrust his hips upwards, trying to get you to start bouncing down on him.
“Adam, behave. The more you move, the less you will get.” You told him sternly, dragging your nail across Adam’s hipbone.
He groaned at that. You stopped your grinding and simply kept his cock inside you. He was twitching inside you, while he tugged impatiently at his cuffs.You leaned forward, resting your chin on his chest, while smiling at him.
“Fucking move already you daft bitch, enough of the teasing.” Adam spoke through gritted teeth.
You laughed at the petulant whine in his voice, together with the pout. God, what a man-child. You needed him badly. You bit your own lip at his behaviour, trying not to laugh at him.
“Ask nicely and I might indulge you.” You told him with a smug smile.
Adam groaned heavily, you felt it vibrating in his chest, he threw his head back. His eyes were squeezed shut, “Pleeeeaasseee, baby, I want you throw my hip out with the fucking way you bounce on my dick.”
You snorted at his words, “How can I say no to those charming words?”
Sitting up, you started a slow rhythm of going up and down on Adam’s hard dick. Adam dug his toes into the bed sheet, happy to finally get some stimulation. Even though he felt overly sensitive, and he knew he wouldn’t last long, he still wanted to fuck you silly from below. As soon as he started thrusting upwards, you pushed Adam’s hips back down and continued your bouncing.
“Can’t keep still, Adam?” You asked him in between gasp.
“ ‘is your fault, baby, you’re too tight. Squeezing me ‘n shit.” Adam sounded winded.
You reached back, grasping for his balls, massaging them.
Adam’s lips left a broken mix of a gasp and moan. His hips shoot upwards, fucking into you while he came inside you. Shit, you thought he would like that, but that much?
You seemed as surprised as Adam, who was heaving heavily. He wet his lips with his tongue, while his dick went soft inside you. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you leaned over to kiss Adam. He pressed his tongue immediately into your mouth. You grasped his face into your hands, urging him to kiss you deeper. You felt Adam’s cum run down your stuffed full pussy.
You stopped the kiss so you could start once again to jump up and down on Adam’s thick cock. He got hard so embarrassingly easily, it’s enough when he sees your face. Finding a rhythm where you felt the pleasure start to build up, you ran your hands over your body, squeezing your tits, before your fingers found your clit. Rubbing circles into it.
“Fuck, baby, untie me. ‘M gonna rub that pretty clit for you. Make you fucking cream all over me.” Adam begged, while tugging at the cuffs. With all that tugging you were surprised that Adam’s wrists weren’t rubbed raw yet.
Laughing breathlessly at him, you shook your head at him. You continued your rhythm, wanting nothing more than to cum.
“Shit, Adam, you always feel so perfectly fitted inside me.” You moaned out.
“Yeah? You always..Ughh…make my fucking dick ache when I just look at you.” Adam started thrusting upwards, helping you chase your high.
That quickly started to approach you, but you also wanted Adam to cum once more.
“Adam, cum inside me. I want you…Want to make you into a real daddy.” That should hopefully be enough? Yeah.
“Shit, babe, already am a real daddy….You’d be a hot as fuckkkk MILF.” Adam’s brows were furrowed and his mouth was open, gasping into the air. Every time a moan tumbled out of his lips, he bit his lip. A shame, he had really pretty moans.
“Adam, I’m close…. Cum with me.” You quickened your finger which was massaging your clit.
You felt your high wash all over you, you dug your nails into Adam’s hips, while your toes were curling. Adam shoot up hot cum into your already full cunt, causing you to sob. You stayed like this for a bit, you both breathing heavily, while cum dripped out of you.
Sliding Adam’s dick out of you, you felt juices gush out of you. Yikes.
“Show me your cunt, babe. Pwetty pwease.” Adam whined at you.
You made sure Adam had a good view of your pussy, when you spread your folds apart. Showing him how his cum dripped out of you. Adam groaned satisfied. He leaned his head back into your pillows, seemingly spent.
Reaching out, you grasped Adam’s dick into your hands and squeezed his shaft.
Adam hissed, his hips twitching at the feeling of overstimulation.
He looked good like that, his face was flushed to hell and back, his lips were bitten raw, and there were tears forming in his eyes. You gave his dick a few kisses, feeling how it got hard under your fingers and lips.
You started slowly jerking Adam off, being mindful off how sensitive he was. He whined at the feeling. Rubbing gentle circles into his tip, playing with his piercing, you kissed your way down. From his tip towards his balls, where you also kissed them.
Adam felt himself cum embarrassingly easy, it basically took him 3 strokes from your hand and he felt the dam break. Adam’s back arched while he sobbed out, if it was from pain or pleasure he wasn’t too sure. You watched with curious eyes as Adam came, surprisingly though there was no more cum ejaculating from him.
Woah, a dry orgasm. You really sucked him dry. That’s cool.
“Enough, you cock hungry whore. Jesus, I know I’m the best you will ever have, but I’m fully spend. Fucking hell….” Adam grumbled out.
You nodded at his words, you leaned over to snatch the keys from your bed side table, and you freed him off his restraints. As soon as you put everything on your bedside table again, Adam wrapped his arms around you and slammed you into the mattress. The breath was slightly knocked out of your lungs and a surprised gasp left your lips.
Adam sprawled himself over you and trapped you between his huge body and the mattress. His head was resting on your chest. He nuzzled the soft skin there. You softly rubbed his shoulders and back, drawing circles into his muscles. Ranking your nails through his soft hair, he sighed softly, being completely content.
“..Cat got your tongue?” You asked him while laughing a bit.
“Shut up. Go to sleep.” Adam grumbled into your skin.
Yeah, your legs were sore. You were going to feel this tomorrow. You felt your eyes drift shut and lost yourself into the unconsciousness.
You woke up the next morning from your bladder calling for you to relief yourself. Reaching blindly around on your floor, you picked up your phone. 7am. Ugh. You had classes today. How annoying. Putting your phone screen up on the bedside table, you rolled out of bed.
As soon as your feet hit the ground, Adam jolted up, rubbing at his eye.
“Where you going?” He asked you with his gravely voice.
“Have to pee.” You mumbled out, stumbling into the bathroom. You thought for a second he would follow you, but he laid back down.
Once you finished your business and washed and dried your hand, you walked back into your room.
You saw Adam sit at the edge of the bed, with your phone in his huge hand. It’s funny, when it’s in your hand you struggle with reaching the full screen with your thumb, while in Adam’s hand it looked like a toy. He was scowling, badly and when he noticed you coming in, he glared at you.
He looked at you like he hated you.
Before you could ask him what was up, he slammed your phone into the corner of your bed side table. Shattering your phone completely. It was a sickening sound, cracking and grinding. The splinters of glass flew everywhere. On the floor, on the bed, on Adam.
You didn’t quite know what to say. What the fuck? Why would you do that? Get the fuck out of my apartment? A feeling of fear of curled in your stomach, paralysing you. It’s an old friend.
Adam stood up, slowly, menacingly. Taking a few steps towards you.
You liked Adam’s size, he was much bigger than you and that made him so attractive to you.
He was much bigger and stronger than you and that’s what terrified you so much.
As soon as Adam stood you were freed of your shock.
“What the fuck?” You spoke into the silence. Not really knowing what else to say. What is there to say?
Adam scoffed at you, crossing his arms in-front of his chest.
“Don’t worry your stupid little fucking head about it.” He simply answered. Wrong move.
“Are you insane? You smash my phone into pieces and won’t even tell me why? Because…Why? You’re the big macho guy who makes all the oh-so big decisions? Because I’m just a girl?” He was starting to piss you off.
You forgot how fast he was, in the blink of your eye he was in-front of you. He roughly grasped your jaw into his hand. It hurt.
“Yeah, that’s fucking why. I know girls like you, you act oh so independent but really you want a big strong guy, like me, to save you. You’re just a fucking woman, so I know it’s hard for you to grasp basic concepts, but you should kiss my fucking feet for even looking at a plain girl like you.” Oh what a fucker.
You gave him a shove to get him away from you, but he just grasped your wrist into his hand. It was a bone crushing strong. At least he wasn’t grasping your jaw anymore. The feeling of betrayal rise like bile in your throat, that’s what you get for trusting a man. It was a reminder for yourself to never trust a man again.
You laughed in his furious face, “Yeah, sure, and if you think I won’t use the birth control you oh so graciously paid for, to fuck other guys you might actually be the stupid one.” You wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. You wanted to hurt him, like he hurt you.
It seemed to work, you didn’t think he could possibly look even more pissed off, but he did. Adam reached his arm out, which wasn’t holding your wrist, and he slammed his fist into your wall. The thin material easily crumbled under the force of his hit.
Adam moved his hand towards you and you closed your eyes, while flinching. Readying yourself for a slap, which never came. Opening your eyes slowly, you saw that, that hand went into his hair, probably pulling at it from what you gatherted Adam.
So he’s a misogynist but not a woman beater, good to know.
The anger from Adam’s face seemed to have washed away, he seemed more preoccupied with your reaction. Your name fell from his lips, soft and worried. He lost the right to be worried about you.
“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” Your heart was beating so fast and loud, you couldn’t hear anything else.
Adam dropped your throbbing wrist from his grasp, taking a step back. His eyes restlessly wandered all over your body.
“..I wasn’t going to fucking hit you. I would never do something like that.”
“Yeah right. You just break my phone AND wall in an unjustified fit of rage. Get your fucking shit and never talk to me again.” You were rubbing your wrist. Man this is going to bruise.
Looking around, you started to pick up Adam’s things and started throwing them at him. Fucker.
And that’s how Adam ended up with you slamming your door in his face, while he only stood with his boxers on in your hallway. His things were messily scattered everywhere. Great.
…….Was that a fucking a rat?
#cw smut#hazbin hotel adam x reader#college au! adam#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut
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This is going to come up in "Some Unknown Corner", but I don't know how explicitly it'll come up, like, terminology-wise, so... saying it more explicitly here if you want to try and look out for this detail in coming chapters. Minor spoilers for a character issue that will become a later plot point.
I'm going to try to explore Yue Qingyuan having claustrophobia, specifically a fear of being shut in underground spaces in particular. This man has wild amounts of willpower and will generally refuse to be vulnerable, so he does NOT let on to this fact in obvious ways, even when forced to be underground temporarily, but he HATES the experience. On the edge of a panic attack, feeling like he's dying, still smiling pleasantly somehow.
Yue Qi goes back into the Ling Xi Caves with Shen Jiu as disciples in one of the Qijiu extras. In this case, I think he was a little fearful (not irrationally, honestly) of something bad happening to Shen Jiu, so he forced himself to be there despite the fact that he hated being there the entire time. (My general headcanon is that Yue Qi genuinely doesn't remember huge chunks of his confinement due to the trauma of it all.) By the time he's the sect leader, over ten years later, he's calmed down enough to let Shen Yuan go in there alone to cultivate. (Maybe Shen Qingqiu threw him out another time later down the line as disciples.)
In SVSSS, Yue Qingyuan goes into the Ling Xi Caves again, I believe, in order to get stronger and potentially get Shen Qingqiu's body back from Luo Binghe. When Luo Binghe invades Cang Qiong, Yue Qingyuan has apparently hastily had to exit seclusion at a delicate time. Was he trying to heal the Xuan Su sword issue as much as possible? Are visits to the Ling Xi Caves a regular medical treatment for him? Why didn't he go into the Ling Xi Caves to get stronger / potentially heal his broken relationship with his sword any earlier? I'm imagining Yue Qingyuan honestly having to force himself to go cultivate alone through a fairly serious phobia, and Mu Qingfang being generally against it, because it seems more like Yue Qingyuan might accidentally work himself up into a terrified, traumatized episode of some kind and die due to another qi deviation.
Being at Mai Gu Ridge sucked for many reasons. It sucked for everyone, really.
Yes, Yue Qi having claustrophobia does make his being blinded in "Some Unknown Corner" worse. (He's holding steady (barely) based on being able hear other people around him + smells + Shen Jiu's touch.) He's really not having a fun time! He's a practical guy and he really doesn't like panicking, so he is SHOVING IT OUT OF MIND, which is not great. I already view Yue Qi as disabled in SVSSS canon due to the Xuan Su sword issue, and the story keeps putting him in positions (sect leader) where he cannot "afford" to be disabled (he has to try to save everyone else), and it is continuously fucking him up. He needs some real rest so, SO badly.
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I am Totally Normal about this man (lie).
I Absolutely haven't been thinking about what he might be going through if he survived. (Bigger Lie)
Bonus: Down the line trying out a prosthetic arm and eye + wearing the smile of your would-be killer
#Sketchy Doodles#spooky month#spooky month fanart#streber#spooky month streber#spooky month tender treats#I love him so so much#The fact that we don'T K N O W IF HE SURVIVED HAUNTS ME#He is a BOX CAT of potential of perishing or persisting and the c o n s e q u e n c e s faced as a result of that#Man has Trauma and is trying to smile his way through it
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Cute Meet?
Started as a kinda character study and idk what happened, i'ma be honest. I haven't written anything with length in awhile, so feel free to leave cc and let me know what you think <3
Just a cute meet kinda scenario, reader is an anxious lil thing and Simon 'Ghost' Riley is obsessed upon first glance. Love? No, not yet.. but obsessed, yes.
Word Count: 1.3K
Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You
Warnings: No warnings, no use of y/n tho
Enjoy :))
Ghost is the keeper.
Ghost is stoic, cold, even apathetic. Ghost can kill a whole platoon without batting an eye, can be covered in the blood of his enemies and be entirely uncaring to watch it flow down the drain once he has enough time to scrub the caked blood from where it seeped through his clothes. He is in charge, able to control his emotions effortlessly, able to lead. He is everything he needs to be.
And then there’s Simon.
Ghost is the keeper. Simon is the man beneath the mask who needs one.
Simon is more akin to a stray dog than a human at times. Face hidden from the world, yet teeth always barred and ready to bite. Hidden behind a mask, a carefully crafted mask that is Ghost. A man with more scars than flesh, a man with more trauma than peace, a man who simply longs for the normalcy of life without a way to reach it.
And then came you.
Ghost couldn’t care less for you. The mask is on as he’s on leave, shopping in a grocery store to get something to eat on while he stays in that damned motel for the next couple of weeks before flying out once more.
The mask stays in place, a protection, a show the keeper is in charge.
You don’t mean to run into him, you’re definitely not the type to go looking for trouble- you’ve had enough of that in your life, and you’re just starting to get your shit together for the nth time.
But as you’re both leaving, you stumble, bumping right into him and leaving a couple of his poor bags strewn about on the sidewalk rather than carefully held within each hand.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost grumbles with a sigh, clearly not pleased by the circumstances while watching a can of beans he had bought simply roll off of the sidewalk area and into the road- promptly ran over by a vehicle looking to park.
No beans and toast now, british man.
“I am so sorry-” You immediately apologize, the sheepish and embarrassed look on your face obvious as you dust yourself off and try to begin gathering the mess that you had caused.
Ghost is annoyed at you. Just one look and he’s annoyed.
But Simon? Simon is enchanted.
The sweet, sheepish smile on your face, the way you scramble to help, the heat to your cheeks in your embarrassment as you scatter around trying to fix the situation. The way your hair falls and how you’re clearly nervous, but you still act anyway. You don’t care of how he looks- all brooding and intimidating with his hoodie over his head and the black medical mask over the lower half of his face. You couldn’t care less of that- you simply want to make things better. Simon notices that though.
Simon remains frozen for a few moments, hidden interest in his eyes as he watches you scramble about, resorting your things just to have an extra couple of bags for his things.
And you just hand things back over to him, the sheepish smile still on your face, the embarrassment clear- but gods, you look like such a sweet lil thing, lookin’ at him like he’s a human, a person.
“‘S fine,” Simon eventually spits out, taking the bags from your hands and glancing once more at the beans staining the roadway now, before turning to focus his attention back on you.
He could let you leave now. He could, it’d be so easy. He could leave it at that and walk away, probably never hear or see from you again. I mean, hell, he’s only known you for all of 5 minutes, and it’s because you’re a clumsy little shit who fucked up his shopping.
It’d be so easy so why does it feel so hard.
“D’ya always ‘ave to make such an impression?” Simon quips out, readjusting the bags comfortably in his grip.
You can’t even pretend not to notice his accent- it’s unusual for where you live, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it outside of the media you’ve consumed. It’s pleasant, rings around in the ears for a bit.
You finally meet his eyes, and gods, they are gorgeous. Deep, rich, brown- like chocolate with golden flecks scattered. Especially in the sunlight- like they are now- pools of liquid gold swimming about a chocolate river.
“Ah- No- Um-” You struggle to find the right words, now your cheeks are warmer, and it’s less from embarrassment and more from the pretty eyed stranger you just fucking throttled on accident. But at least he doesn’t seem angry, so there’s always that. “I’m so sorry,” You settle on apologizing again, one of your hands moving to nervously run through your hair, pushing some strands out of your face.
“‘S fine. Really.” Simon says with a slight nod, and you can feel the burn of his eyes as they trail over you.
You can’t decide if he means it or not, though, he sounds oddly monotone for such simple words.
“Still, I feel bad, I uh- I’m kinda clumsy at best,” You blurt out, sheepish smile on your face despite its softness as you glance away from him before looking back once more, “I uh- just wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going- a real bad habit of mine, honestly- which is surprising cause you’re kinda huge and hard to miss-”
What the fuck did you just say?!Your cheeks heat up further, hands moving to gesture with your words now. You’re rambling, you know you are, but god did not give you the ability to shut the fuck up.
“N-Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re uh- very well-built!” what the fuck you’re making it worse- “I-I mean- You uh- You have lots of muscle a-and that’s a good thing! And you have pretty eyes- always a bonus!”
Simon’s eyebrow slowly lifts, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Simon’s been called a lot of things in his life- but he’s realizing at this moment that no one has ever called his eyes pretty. They’re brown. He can recall Johnny referring to them as ‘shit brown’ more often than not.
And you just look so fucking adorable- continuing to ramble, but he’s hardly paying attention to the words now, watching your cheeks get darker, your hands gesturing with your words, nervously shifting on your feet as you try to ‘save’ the situation. Such a precious lil thing, too pure for this world.
Simon was enchanted at first glance.
Ghost decides he could be, too.
A pretty thing like you? In this world? Oh, love, that’s just not safe. You’re a lil bundle of nervous, clearly. How’d ya make it this far? Who made ya like this? Unsure, rambling, nervous? Ghost wants to learn you. Wants to figure out what events molded you into this cute lil thing. You clearly need someone- he won’t judge, Simon needs him, too.
Ghost decides he wants to know you. Simon has made that thought known.
“You know what? I’m gonna shut up!” You finally say, voice a higher pitch and the heat being felt in the tips of your ears at this point as you take a step away from the masked man, who you know you’ve done ruined the chance to know with your inability to shut the fuck up.
“Tell me yer name before ya do,” Simon says, voice smooth like it’s the easiest and most casual thing in the world.
He’s so… quiet. He let you ramble and make an absolute fool of yourself- but now he’s actually wanting to know your name?
After you manage to knock yourself out of your stupor, you finally offer your name to him, cheeks finally cooling down a bit. Only to heat back up once he repeats your name in that voice of his, all low and gruff- says it differently than anything you’ve ever heard before- like it’s something important, something that matters.
“Simon,” He supplies, adjusting his bags in one grip as he offers a hand to you.
Simon and Ghost are two very different people who share this skin suit.
But they both decide you’re theirs.
#simon ghost x reader#cod x reader#141 x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you
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Bucky and Touch Headcanons
Bucky x GN!Reader
Description: Just some Headcanons about Bucky and learning to trust human contact again
Warnings: fluff, a little angst, Bucky’s trauma, abuse at the hands of HYDRA, insecurities, self conscious Bucky, pet names, no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"
A/N: if you haven't noticed I definitely have a type when it comes to fic and that fic is hurt/comfort with Bucky. I kinda feel like everything I've written is like the same thing in different fonts, but oh well 😅 anyways, Bucky re-learning that hands on his body doesn’t inherently mean pain and becoming super cuddly and touchy with someone he loves is my SHIT inject that into my VEINS man
((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))
It takes Bucky a really long time to get accustomed to human contact again, after you two got together it took him a while to even do something so innocent as hold your hand.
It’s not that Bucky hates it
He loves being close to you, he wants it so badly
And he’s touch-starved
He’s so touch-starved
But he went so long without positive human contact, and now that he’s free he wanted it so badly he could feel his chest aching for it
But it made him so nervous to want to try
After one night where you mindlessly reached up to casually touch his face and he flinched away hard, after all open hand coming towards his face had meant pain for so long, you two had a long conversation about his comfort levels
You two took things slow initially
You would sit on the couch together, watching a movie and talking with your fingers intertwined, your thumb stroking his knuckles.
Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder, something he’s slowly started to accept
At the very least he’s stopped freezing when he feels your head droop to his arm
But now that he’s grown used to it and learned to love it? He wants to be touching you all the time
Bucky almost always has his arm around you, or a hand on your back, holding your hand, etc.
He would never admit it to anyone but you, but he’s SUCH a little spoon.
Bucky loves when you hold him, resting his head on your chest while you rub his back brings him a level of calm that he’s never felt before
Or when you hold him from behind and he curls into your body
You slip your hand under his shirt and run your hands along his tummy, gently stroking your fingers along his skin
You know he’s a lot larger than you, being a wall of muscle that has at least a head of height on you
But seeing him sleeping peacefully, wrapped in your arms with a little smile on his face he looks so small
He loves when you play with his hair.
It took him a long time to be okay with it (too many memories of handlers grabbing and/or dragging him by the hair), but now?
If he had it his way your hands would never leave it
Whenever you two are holding each other your hands always seem to find their way to his dark locks, brushing them out of his eyes or carding your fingers through it
You learned that the quickest way to get him to fall asleep is to stroke his hair, and put him to sleep like that every night
When it was long, Bucky loved when you combed it for him after a shower, or braided and unbraided it while he laid in your lap during a movie
Now that it’s cut short (thanks to you, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it) you’re pretty much always playing with it in some way
As much as you loved his long hair, his shorter cut is nice because it’s a bit more manageable and still just as soft
Bucky loves when you massage his scalp, feeling your nails gently scratching against his head makes him melt every time
He also loves when you bathe him or bathe with him
Bucky had a lot of anxiety around being naked in front of you, too many bad memories of being stripped and hosed down after missions or beaten within an inch of his life
But with lots of time and comfort and assurances he eventually opened up and got more comfortable
Long baths with you are his favorite thing.
Whether you get in with him or not, he loves how gentle you are with washing his body, massaging sore muscles and peppering his chest and back with little kisses
He especially loves when you wash his hair (I know, shocking).
Usually when you’re done washing him you’ll guide his head to lay in your lap while you stroke his hair.
When it’s time for him to get out you usually have to wake him up, it makes you smile
Peace looks so good on him, you just want to let him bask in it forever
And oh GOD he loves skin-on-skin contact so much
It took so long for Bucky to learn that he was allowed to want things
When he first started opening up with touch, he would wait until the aching in his chest got unbearable before asking if you would do some skin-on-skin with him
You never wanted to push him, but you tried to teach him that he was allowed to ask for things he didn't need immediately.
He didn't have to wait until he absolutely needed something to ask for it.
He was allowed to just want things.
Once he finally gets used to asking for things he wants skin-on-skin all the time.
Most every night you end up cuddled up in bed, sans clothing, Bucky pretty much on top of you, his head on your chest while you play with his hair.
He'll press little kisses to your chest, making you smile when his stubble tickles against your skin
“I love you,” he whispers into your neck, “how did I get so lucky, hm?”
You smile softly and kiss his forehead
“Believe me Buck, I'm the lucky one.”
#bucky barnes#mcu#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#buckybarnes#hurt/comfort
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FRENZY ៸៸៸ part two
Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.
៸៸៸ part one here ៸៸៸ you must read the first part in order to understand this one!
៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader
៸៸៸ minors dni
៸៸៸ wordcount: 14.2k
៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut
៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.
៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.
៸៸៸ a/n: sorry again for the way i had to post this in two parts, still i hope it was worth the wait!
៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut
៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The next morning, you were late waking up to log into your work account but Jake was still there, drowsy and smiling at you from the moment you opened your eyes.
You briefly remember the early morning pouting he gave you, hard against you and lips all over you, and in turn you remember how you made a promise to yourself swiftly after rejecting his needs.
Your face heated up the second he said good morning to you, flustered over the fact that not only do you want him, but you want him to want you like that again, despite your rejection. After all, you let him sleep over, and he didn’t try to take advantage of you despite sporting an intense boner through the majority of it.
He sees the way your eyes check him out upon waking up too, but you stay silent after he gives you his good morning greeting.
“Are you hungry? I can step out and pick up some breakfast so you can work.” He offers, stretching his arms out wide and tapping you to stand up. “I’m staying again today.”
Your eyes widen at him, but the smile on your face betrays that little red flag in your head that has forced you, up to this point, to struggle to give him what he needs.
“I’d like that.” You nod to him, cheeks permanently warmed at the image of your shining boyfriend. “Sorry about last night.” You blurt now, standing up and stretching yourself.
“It’s fine love, it's just hard to keep my hands to myself sometimes.” He says, intensely watching your reaction.
You lend a pause in your stretch at those words, having heard them before when your ex did things that made your body ache for weeks. There is a pull in your gut hearing him say that before you remind yourself that they’re just words. He just really likes you, and he did stop when you told him to.
He is not your ex.
“I wouldn’t have hurt you though,” He continues, seeing you deep in thought in front of him. “If you’d have let me, I mean.”
“Jake I–” You stop yourself, feeling a flood of words on the tip of your tongue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” You confirm, now moving forward to hug against him. “I would have–”
“You would?” His eyes light up, smile brighter than you’ve ever seen before.
“No, I mean,” You stutter in panic, hugging him tighter. “I would have touched you if you asked.”
His eyes go dark instantly, making his smile seem more eerie than anything as you look up at him.
“I’m okay with doing the touching, we can work our way up to the other stuff…maybe? If that’s okay?”
“Oh, baby, that’s more than okay.” He coos out, now losing his appetite for actual food and wanting nothing more than to show you just how good he could really be for you. His arms hug you tightly before releasing you, and he ushers you across the room. “We can talk about this later though, you’re already late, right?”
You nod, feeling a bit better about initially rejecting him and doing just that, moving to the small nook that holds your desk and PC and listening to him slip his shoes on.
“I’m going to grab breakfast, and I’m gonna stop by my place to grab some clothes.”
He leaves before you can answer, which is nice because part of you didn’t want to hear your own voice accepting that.
Accepting that he’s leaving right now, accepting that he’s coming back to stay another night, accepting that you feel perfectly fine with all of this despite your inner demon advising you to run.
You don’t know who you are in this moment, but what you do know is that you’re safe. That’s what’s driving you to act blatantly against what your own brain is telling you.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re clinging and Jake is fucking devoted to the feeling of it.
Devoted to the way your fingers, so much smaller than his own, grab him to kiss him. Devoted to the way you kiss the bruise above his brow, and the way you ask him to stay for another night, and another, and another, up until he finds himself doing his and your laundry together just so he doesn’t have to go back home to grab more clothes to rotate through.
It’s been a week since he’s been in your apartment, rolling around on your bed with you in it, cleaning himself in your shower, washing himself with your soap. It’s like only the two of you exist in this space, where he is the only one to step out and see the sun, solely so you don’t have to.
Or, solely so you can’t. He doesn’t think he’d let you at this point, now that you’re his and you prove it with each kiss and hug. All you need to do is sit and look pretty, sit and love him. That’s what your purpose is in this relationship, he will do the rest.
Given, he’s also fucked his fist each second he can get in your bathroom. But goddamn do you cling. You whine when he separates himself from you even for a moment, and day by day he can see you come closer and closer to fulfilling his need to be loved by you entirely.
Your phone hasn’t received any unsavory messages you’ve noticed as well, they haven’t needed you to come into the office, and all you can manage to think is that…you’re in love with being in this apartment with him.
Only good things happen when Jake is with you and you’re growing so attached that you’ve thought more than once to just move him in with you. Your mother would scold you, your ex would kill you, and arguably, Jake would absolutely do it.
He waits on you hand and foot. Cooking, cleaning, doing your laundry, holding you and giving you some of the best sleep you’ve had in years. You refrain from considering it seriously though, because this relationship is still so new. You don’t want to freak him out or cause an uproar in your already fucked up and unsteady life. You’re throwing yourself in like you always do, but…is it so bad when he’s doing the exact same thing?
Until he’s not, anyway.
“Love,” Jake starts, tapping his chin with the tips of his fingers as he lounges on your bed. “I need to go home today.”
Your heart immediately sinks.
“What? Why?” You ask in a voice that plainly shows your panic.
“Well,” He taps on his chin again before moving his hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure my mailbox is probably full by now, I need to clean out my fridge, and I should probably check my course work.”
“You’re…in college?”
Jake nods with a snicker, laughing at how he’s given up his entire life for you.
“Yeah, probably won’t be soon though.” He laughs, shaking his hair out and then looking at you with big, rounded eyes. “Just for the day, I’ll be back before sunset.”
You look down in a disappointed way before nodding to him.
“Aww, babe. Don’t be like that–” He mock pouts as he turns to you, grabbing both of your cheeks and squishing them up, forcing your lips to pucker before landing a harsh kiss against them. “I’m coming right back, I promise.”
You nod again, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face.
“You’re so cute, it’s going to kill me one of these days.” He smiles back at you, hopping up and preparing himself to head back to his apartment.
What you don’t know is that, while Jake wasn’t lying and that he should at least clean out his fridge, he needed to go home.
He needs to unload the footage onto his computer, he needs to watch it back, he needs to fuck something.
And so, he does just that.
The second he gets back to his apartment, it’s almost uncomfortable. Unfamiliar scents, no warmth, rotting food in the fridge, neglected pillows and bed sheets.
Even so, it’s like he acts on instinct when he walks past everything he needs to do and lands himself at the window. His mind takes over in an instant.
It felt like so long ago when he first saw you from here, knowing you were the most beautiful, the perfect girl for him. Knowing you would love him too, and that you’d never want to leave him. He smiles at his victory, knowing that you’re sitting in that apartment right now thinking about him too. If he knew where he would be now, he thinks his former self may have very well fucked himself to death. After all, he’s felt you, tasted you, and even seen parts of you based on the little image he sent to himself from your phone. Everything happened better than he knew it would.
If it weren’t for your ex, perhaps you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment. Perhaps you wouldn’t have clinged to him so immediately.
In a way, he almost wants to thank the man before he eventually strangles the life out of him.
He’s tasted almost all of you by this point, and each moment it happened is trapped within the files of that little camera there. All of it, for him to remember. Each kiss and makeout session he made sure happened in the view of this camera, and so badly does he want to watch over and over again the moments where you gave in to him. The moments where you needed him.
He’s quick to push the camera to his pc, uploading a weeks worth of files before placing it back onto the window sill and immediately shoving his hand down his pants.
Jake shivers at the first unrestricted graze of his hand against his cock, eyebrows falling into that of probably one of the most pathetic faces he could ever make in his life. The relief is so good, so painful.
He can’t fucking help it. After jerking off multiple times a day before finding himself in your apartment with you, it’s hard to only do it once a day within a short time span of a few minutes. He felt so restricted in terms of his release, and he has so much cum to give right now. He’s aching for it. He wants to bleed it dry.
He wants you so bad at this point, seeing you dangle yourself in front of him and not yet give in to at least going down on him– he needs this. He needs it now.
Even if it’s not you touching him, he needs to release before he takes it from you. Before he does something stupid and makes you hate him forever. Before he really does become your ex. It felt like he was going insane in your apartment, surrounded by you, only wanting to fuck you, and still not getting to.
God, the footage is so grainy but it hits his cock so fucking fast. He memorized each moment as it happened, and now watching it in third person makes him feel as if he’s some sort of ghost. Like he’s having an out of body experience and can see and feel you in a completely different light.
In more ways than he already has, even.
He releases within thirty seconds, barely holding his cock when he doubles over at the footage of that very first, harsh kiss you gave him. Sensitive and twitching, his raging length spilled all in his pants, drenches them through even, as his body shakes with the need for more.
And as if it never happened, he takes a firmer hold of his cock now, fast forwarding the footage to each and every kiss, wondering how good those lips of yours would feel elsewhere on his body. How pretty your moans would sound for him, how cute your hand looked gripping your tit in that little nude of yours, how–
He comes again, forcing him to let out a choked sob and drop his head to his desk. God, it hurts. He’s so sensitive, and still, he wants you so bad. His dick is still raging, aching, and begging, especially when he thinks of how you’ve been clinging. How your hands have fucked yourself, and how badly he wants them to stay on him forever.
God he wishes your fingers could slice him open, leaving painful and love-filled reminders of not who you belong to, but of who he belongs to.
When he thinks of how he’s only doing this right now because you have your claws buried into him already, almost refusing to let him leave you, he knows he could come another four or five times within the next thirty minutes solely because you cling, and cling, and fucking cling. Fuck..
That’s so hot to him.
He’d let you cage him up in a heartbeat, he’d let you fuck his entire life up and then laugh at him for it. It’s what you deserve. To have a man willing to do anything for you, someone willing to give up everything just to hear you breathe, to have him be that person.
Third release, forcing him to hold his breath to the point of feeling faint.
The veins on his neck protrude, sweat now dripping down his brow.
It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts.
But it doesn’t hurt enough.
And all day he does this. Until the sun is telling him that he needs to go back to you, until his hair is drenched in sweat and his arm is sore. Until his body feels weak and his cock feels spent, raw, and still throbbing for more.
It hurts when he puts on a new pair of pants, hurts even more when he forces himself to squat in front of his fridge to clean it out, opting to toss everything into a bag rather than sifting through what’s good and what isn’t.
Now more than ever does he want you against him, knowing that he’s fucked himself half to death solely to keep himself from scaring you, and still he isn’t satisfied.
At this point, nothing will satisfy him but you. He knows this now.
He’s quick to lock up, even quicker to toss his trash, and finds himself inside of your lobby at a loss.
Goddamn his libido. Goddamn this love for you.
He can’t stop wanting you, and he can’t just fuck the need away himself at this point. He needs you to fuck his brain quiet, only you can satiate this horrifyingly deep hunger.
Waiting, watching, waiting, waiting, waiting.
He’s waited enough. He’s done waiting.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jake appears at your door right on time, and you were expecting to see his smiling face and big stretched out arms to greet you as you open the door for him.
You didn’t get that though. In fact, you found yourself frozen with the door half open as you stared at your boyfriend and the way his terrifyingly small pupils looked back at you before instantly growing twice the size. So different from this morning, heaving, lips shaking, eyes darker than they’ve ever been.
Before you can even ask why he’s looking at you like that, you learn exactly why.
“I’m going fucking insane.” Jake says shortly in a hot whisper, stepping forward and slamming the door behind him. You feel his hands on you instantly, slipping under your shirt and grabbing your waist tightly. “Can’t be away from you, can’t be with you, I can’t stand it.”
You just listen, feeling him walk you into the living room, fluttering his lips all over your face and neck, only to press you up and against the window with his entire body pinning you there with a slam.
You’re shocked, unable to do anything but listen to him and feel the way his hands grip and search your entire body for something to hold onto.
“All fucking day,” Jake seethes out angrily, pulling back from you and grabbing your face to turn it. Almost pissed that you simply exist in front of him right now. “Right there.” He says, pointing directly to his apartment. “I sat right there trying to deal with this.” He presses his hips against you, letting you feel exactly what he’s talking about. “And still, I need more.”
Your brain goes numb. Or maybe it goes hot, you’re not sure. You’ve only recently realized that he turns you on beyond belief, it’s difficult to decipher the difference between horniness and fear right now.
“Jake–” You turn back to him, now using your own hands to grab his face, forcing his eyes to steady and look at you, as if to bring him back to reality. “Do you need–”
He cuts you off with a harsh kiss, hands running up just to press you harder against the window, his hips chasing whatever he can get from you. Like he’s using you in this moment, as if you’re not real and simply a doll for him to release against and inside of.
He’s fucking gone. Outside of himself, and you, and the universe as a whole.
“What I need,” He says, pulling back and stating in an almost demanding tone. “Is for you to take care of me.”
You knew this would come sooner or later, and you’d been trying to work up the courage to do it. You’ve run his patience dry, and you guess it’s now or never at this point.
“Just tell me.” You whisper submissively, wanting to give him whatever he needs solely so that he won’t leave you.
You see his expression soften within a split second, his hips release their pressure against you, and he pulls his hands back.
“Fuck.” He lets out apologetically, demeaning himself for losing his control and being so blatant. Pointing out his fucking apartment to you. “Baby, I’m sorry, I–”
You’ve already made your decision, understanding exactly why your boyfriend broke his composure. This past week proved enough to you that he wasn’t in it to fuck you, and even though his needs weren’t being met, he still worked hard to meet yours, you feel…
Yeah, you’re happy he did this. Even the force didn’t scare you entirely. The only thing that scares you is him leaving you over this. And he watches as you do it, sinking to your knees and reaching out to hook your fingers into the loops on his pants.
“Baby,” He warns you, feeling you pull him straight to you. “Wait, wait.”
You don’t, knowing that if you were to stop now you might end up talking yourself out of doing this again.
“No,” You shake your head, lifting on your knees just to rub your cheek against the length in his pants. “Let me take care of you, I’ve neglected you enough.”
God, he fucking buckles. Dropping right to his knees in front of you, pulling you in by the face, and kissing you as hard as he possibly can. His entire body quivers, bursting in a euphoric sense of arousal as the hairs rise on his body at the very image of you on your knees for him.
“You’re so good to me,” He mumbles through kissing you. “So, so good to me.”
And you just let yourself feel it. Intensely, to the point that even your stomach flips at knowing what’s about to happen.
Strangely enough, it flips in a good way. You haven’t felt like this in years, and it brings so much glee to you knowing that Jake is right here, willing to let you make him feel good. Willing to let you feel these things again, willing to make you feel good if you work up the courage to ask for it. And most of all, he’s staying.
“Stand up then.” You whisper in a smile. “I’ll take care of you, so don’t run back home to do it yourself anymore.”
Jake shakes his head with a smirk, happy to get what he not only wants at this moment, but what he so desperately needs.
“I did that for you, and look where it got me.” He says, standing and staring down at you. “Nothing will ever satisfy me, only you can.”
You chuckle shyly, reaching up to fumble with his button only to have him take over for you, dropping his pants and gripping himself.
“Don’t be so sure though.” You swallow around a lump in your throat at the size of him, proving why you were always able to feel it and not quite ignore it. “I don’t have a lot of practice with this.”
Oh, could you be any more perfect? Any more fucking endearing? With those pretty eyes staring down what he wants to put in you so bad, not even knowing how he’s only ever gotten this hard for you and you alone. Fuck, he could give it to you so good, he could fill you until you can’t breathe, he could keep you forever.
You look so pretty like this, with your lips trembling as you wet them, with the way your smaller hands swat him away as if to ask him to let you try and hold it yourself.
He could shoot his load right now if you asked him to, looking so fucking docile on the floor for him. He needs to look away, he needs to prepare for this.
“I don’t know if I can, um,” You start, gripping him and noting that he’s thick, there’s no way it will all fit in your mouth without absolutely suffocating you. “Jake, I genuinely don’t know if I can fit all of it.”
He lends you a short chuckle as he takes in a breath, his fingers going down to tip your chin up at him. You feel it pulse in your hand as he looks at you, almost feeling his quickened heartbeat through the vein that runs up the underside of it.
“Love, I don’t need it to fit.” He smiles, pressing it harder into your palm. “Even this is enough right now.” He lies, pressing his hips forward as if to show you that he’s lying.
He needs it to fit so bad.
You eye him down, feeling the twitch release a little dribble of precum that rolls down and onto your circled fist. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at another person this way, wanting to taste it, almost needing to.
Rubbing your legs together, almost uncomfortably, you swallow again as you keep your eyes trained on his before glancing back down. You pull your hands back just to see the way it drops. God, it’s so heavy. You can imagine he’s full of resentment for how long it’s taken you to simply look at it. His cock rages at you, darkened in color and glistening in the light of the setting sun through the window.
All you can do is stare.
And all Jake can do is stare too, watching you do math in your head of what you need to do with him. He’d take anything, fucking anything, from you right now.
“Mm,” Jake hums for a moment, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tighter. “Like this.” He instructs.
“I know how to give a hand job, you know.” You roll your eyes playfully, despite totally forgetting how to do it now that, you know, you want to.
“Yeah, don’t tell me that.” He warns, annoyed that you’d even say that right now. “Just, grip me harder–” He closes his eyes, pretending that you’ve never touched a cock that wasn’t his own, noting how your hands have always been gentle with him, save for that day you dragged him around by the shirt in a kiss.
You listen, trying to grip the girth of it as tightly as you can while dragging your hand forward and back, forcing little grunts out of him.
“Yeah,baby–” he encourages you, “Just like that.” He continues to lose himself to the feeling in soft moans, blinking down and now moving his hips in your grasp, fucking forward a bit harder. “Use your other hand too..”
You listen intently, never having to use both hands on a man like this before. You try to squeeze him, offering as much pressure as you can as he swivels his hips forward and back, slicking your hands up nice and wet with his precum. Unbelievable how much he has, actually.
You look up when he lolls his head back in a drawn out moan, staring at the expanse of his neck and the way it tenses when he swallows around the same moan. And then, suddenly, in a split second he hangs his head back down and looks at you as if he can see everything you are, everything you ever have been, and everything you ever could be. You gasp at his expression, feeling totally lost and in awe when you see that gaze go dead as he stares back.
His lips fall slack when his hips pick up pace, essentially fucking your fists rather than letting you do the work. And when you glance away from him, tuning in to the consistent pre-cum spilling out of him, he sees you lick your lips.
He watches, he sees you want it.
So, very gently, he places one of his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to do it. And it’s like he can taste colors when you let him and instantly wrap your lips around the big, swollen head of his leaking length.
The half-moan-half-amazed-chuckle that falls out of him only comes from the fact that you instantly stretch your lips around it, lapping at his tip in an almost hungry way.
“God, fuck–” He keeps his head hanging forward, watching intently as you take him further and further into your mouth, up until you release one hand and grasp his thigh to hold onto. “I’ve dreamed of this.” He admits, shocked that you’re really going to do this for him.
You blink up at him, trying to smile around the heavy length pressing your tongue down. If you’re going to do this, the least you can do is make sure he fucking loves it. Not to mention, the fact that you’re also enjoying it only drives you to do more. Like the wall inside of you has been shattered and nothing could ever stop you from wanting him in any and every way possible.
He smiles through a deep groan at the way your lips still curl around him.
Never in his fucking life did he imagine you smiling while sliding his cock down your throat. Really, you did that entirely on your own and somehow, he feels even more insane than he did walking into your apartment earlier.
You’re making it fit, and all he can do is help you, now bracing that same hand on your head and pressing further into your mouth..
More, more.
And when he feels your fingernails dig into his thigh and his cock hit the back of your gagging throat, he chokes out, eyes tearing up, and he sobs out your name in a desperate attempt to compliment you for it.
That sound alone from him went straight through you, igniting a long awaited arousal within your belly. You feel the drip, relishing in the feeling of being wet for the first time in fucking years. He’s so big, and he’s so suffocating. You want to do this, you want to hear him cry out your name again.
Even when he tries to pull his hips back, you grab onto him and hold his hips in place, pushing your lips further down, depressing your tongue even more as the thickest part of him cuts off your airways. Your throat restricts around him, and you feel proud of it. Proud of choking on him, happy to keep doing it.
He stutters in awe, gripping the windowsill with his free hand and using the other to feel your hollowed out cheeks. Shit, you’re going to taste him, he’s going to give you all of it, he’s going to–
Shocked, floored, entirely drunk for you, all he can do is watch as you choke. His body did not warn him at all when his cum shoots into your throat, warming your belly with that first swallow around him.
Your reaction to it is immediate though, as he watches with half-crossed eyes the way you pull off of him and let his cum spurt out and drip all over your face. Down those beautiful cheeks, onto your plush lips, and down your neck.
It won't stop. He just keeps coming. His entire body trembles as he stares at you, and you stare back before closing one eye due to the fact that there is now cum in your eyelashes, and you fucking smile at him.
The image alone keeps him hard as his body finally stops twitching. You, there on your knees, smiling up at him drenched in him.
“Baby,” He soothes out with a raspy tone. “Fuck, you didn’t have to do–”
“I’m wet. Jake.” You smile, as if you’re admitting this to him to gain some sort of congratulations for it. And in a way, you are. He has no idea how amazing it is to you right now that you can feel your panties go sticky. It feels amazing to admit to him, actually.
It’s so relieving, it’s so warm, it’s something you never should have missed out on in the first place.
“What?” He asks with uneven breath, dropping to his knees in front of you again, rubbing the cum into your skin with his thumb as he caresses your face. “You are?”
You beam at him, smiling with a nod.
“Really?” He asks again, in disbelief because this was all it took?
You nod again, leaning back on your arms and watching him follow, hovering over you and slotting himself between your legs with a hungry gaze.
“Can I feel?” He asks abruptly, crawling over you to the point that your back hits the side table behind you, keeping you from lying all the way down.
And you nod before you think about it. Wondering if this is how it’s always supposed to be. Always willing, always wanting, always needing.
He stares at you when you nod, glancing down to your middle then back at you as if to gain another confirmation.
You nod again, this time wanting to hide your face in your arms. You anticipate it, wondering what it’ll feel like to be touched there again by a hand that isn’t your own after all this time. And when you feel his shaking hand dip into your sweat pants, you don’t even shutter. You don’t shy away.
You’re surprising yourself even, letting out a gasp when he cups your core and looks down at you with a cautious smile.
“You’re dripping, baby.” He smiles as he balances himself on one arm over you, rubbing his hand back and forth and memorizing the dips and folds he can feel through this flimsy fabric. Then, his more intrusive thoughts spill in an unintentional and needy groan. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”
Words that would make you recoil are no longer scaring you. You can tell he wants to apologize for saying it too, but goddamn, you loved hearing it. In fact, your entire body pulses at the words, feeling his hand do nothing more than hold you there and gently rub. His eyes are pleading though, with his lips pouting as he relishes in thoughts of probably fucking his fingers into you just to see if he’s right.
Or maybe it’s just you hoping that’s what he’s thinking about. You can’t help the way you clench, letting out a strained breath as you lurch forward and hug him around his neck, squeezing so tightly as you whisper against the shell of his ear.
“You can touch me– if you want.” You whisper, physically feeling the goosebumps against his neck raise to your lips. “Just go slow.”
You still need to go slow, after all, you don’t know how your brain may react to this, despite loving it at the moment. Relishing in the fact that someone managed to make you feel horny again. You feared that you never could again. God, he’s amazing.
“I’ll go so slow for you,” He whispers back, twisting his hand in your pants to hook his fingers around your panties to pull them to the side. “Oh, baby, you really do want this, don’t you?” He whispers again upon really feeling you drip, trying to slide his fingers through the slick mess before rubbing circles around your hole. He’s lost his train of thought now, only able to feel one sense at a time so that he can fucking memorize how you coat his fingers entirely.
He moans again from deep in his chest along with you, despite knowing you’re the only one feeling the pleasure of his fingers. You feel his moan vibrate through his throat when you kiss him there, anticipating what it’s going to feel like when he slides a finger in.
And it’s like you see stars when he does, slowly pressing one into you as he wraps his other arm around your waist to hold you in place, sitting back on his knees and forcing you to stand on your own infront of him.
There he holds you as if he’s afraid you’ll start to fight, relishing the feeling of your wet walls hugging his finger all while you cling to him through it. He was right, you are tight despite how wet you’ve gotten. It’s almost like you’re a virgin despite knowing that you’re not.
Your body is reacting this way for him, and you’re hugging him, and your pussy is clenching for him. He just knows that if he manages to fit his cock into you, he’d fucking lose it. You’d squeeze him so tight, and he’d fuck it so deep. Fill you up, deeper, deeper, until the only name you know is his.
He’s losing it again, hearing your little whispered moans against his ear, hanging on him like a fucking pet, god, he wants you to squeeze the fucking blood out of him. You’re being so compliant, so submissive, so–
“Do you even know…” He starts babbling, trying to silence his thoughts by giving them straight to you as his finger slides out, eagerly shoving two back in at a much quicker, much harsher pace. “How much I’ve dreamed about this?”
You shake your head noting how he’s already mentioned dreaming of you once. The thought has you spreading your legs out to feel how deep his fingers reach inside of you. There’s no pain involved in this, despite his pace not being nearly as slow as he said he would go. You’re not upset, you want him to go faster, you want him deeper, you want to hear him talk.
“So many times, baby, so many times.” He soothes himself more than you through these words, losing himself more and more each second to the feeling of your core clenching his fingers. “You’re even prettier to me right now,” He continues to babble, listening to you hum in his ear at the pleasure you feel. “I want you to take everything from me.”
“I want you to wrap your legs around my neck, I want you to rub my nose in it, I want you to suffocate me, I want—”
“Shit, Jake.” You moan out his name for the first time at the dirty words. They’re a lot to take in only because you know it truly is a lot, or rather, it should be. But you fucking want that too. You want everything from him, you want everything he wants. Everything. “What else?” You urge him to keep talking.
“I want you to pull my hair,” He says, instantly feeling your fingers slide up his neck and into the thick of it, tugging immediately. “I want you to make it fit here too.” He continues, curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting his own hips against the dense air in your apartment.
You moan again at his hot words. You’re overwhelmed by how much you want more, how much you’d let him, right here, right now.
“Keep going,” You sing out, feeling it in your stomach and knowing that this familiar feeling is so much better than you’ve ever felt before. “Tell me, Jakey, fuck–” You continue, huffing at the way his fingers quicken even more.
“Sound so pretty saying my name, fuck,” He groans now, more level than before as he feels your legs close around his arm, fingers relentlessly hitting the soft spot inside of you. “Tell me that I’d never hurt you, that only I can make you feel like this.”
You nod aggressively as your brain hits a wall, unable to fulfill his request. Every muscle in your body tenses in pleasure as you begin to shake, moving your own hips against his fingers and tugging his hair harder without intention.
He moans out at how tight you hold him, wanting nothing more than to lay you out and bury himself into you, to feel your pussy jerk him off.
“Feels so good, baby, right?” He continues to talk, feeling your tight walls try to push his fingers out with each threat of your build up, his mind is spinning. “Say it–” He stutters, feeling his own body react the same way yours is. “Fuck, please, say that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” You whisper out of breath against his ear, the hot breath sending him overboard as he immediately pulls his fingers from you and grips his cock instead, ignoring your whimper of the lost build up.
“Yeah,” He cries out, thrusting his hips against his hand. “So let me– please, please let me.”
His face looks so broken when you stare at him in shock, eyes pleading for you to give him all of it. To give him everything right now. How could you fucking say no to that expression? How could you ever say no to him?
And still, with your orgasm half-fulfilled, you’re entirely enamored with the way you instantly want it too. As if you’re rushing head first into a brick wall with him, and you stop just to think for a moment.
Should you?
Do you intend to keep this man forever? Do you want him to leave? Would you be able to picture a day without him?
It confirms in your brain right then and there. You do intend to keep him. You don’t want him to leave. You could never picture a day without him at this point.
If he wants to have sex with you right now? Why not? You’re sure that if he is truly wanting to stay, sooner or later you’ll feel him pumping inside of you. Why should it matter that it happens now rather than tomorrow? Or next week? Or even next month?
Instantly upon your snap decision, you stand on shaking legs, watching him watch you. His hand gripping himself harshly to prevent a pathetic and untouched orgasm, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
You smile, dropping your pants, panties, and then lifting your shirt right up and over your head. All he does in response is wince, grip the base of his cock harder, and try to focus on not spilling and wasting his cum on your floor. Brain only slightly trying to distract him with the idea of grabbing those sticky panties to suck them clean.
“Really?” He chokes, out of breath and standing up, swiping your panties up quickly and crumpling them in his hand.
Then, you feel one hand on you after he drops his length, and the other rubbing those same wet panties against your skin, as if he has a death grip on them and you. Still, he walks you right back to the window and against it, speaking in that same, needy and shaking breath. “Baby, are you sure?”
You look away, feeling vulnerable and shy but so willing, so ready when you nod and throw your leg around his waist as if to tell him that you’re more than sure.
He gives you a breathy chuckle, pulling back just to lift his shirt off of him, hang your panties at the base of his cock, and then he grabs your leg and holds it in place. “Right here?”
He can’t tell if he’s even alive right now, with your pussy sitting spread open right up against him as you let him hold you here, your ass is probably looking great for the camera right now. Your panties feel so good in their rightful place, dangling just in front of his balls. You feel so good in your rightful place, right up against the wall with him trapping you here.
You nod again, pressing your hips forward, proving to him how hungry you feel for him right now. Finally feeling dirty and not hating yourself for it.
“Right here.” You confirm, tuned into his lips and leaning forward to lick against them. “That’s what you want, right?”
He’s stunned by how you take control while still being somehow submissive to him about it. Almost like you’re shaming him for wanting it, almost like you don’t want to admit that you want it too.
“Is that what you want?” He asks, trying hard not to think about how you’ve shifted entirely within the span of however long it’s been since the two of you started this. Is this how you act when you're horny?
“How could I not?” You confirm again with a confident tone, watching your boyfriend break in front of you. “Look at you.”
Jake can’t bear to look at himself, he knows he looks just about as pathetic as he’s always wanted. Never quite able to feel pathetic enough to satisfy him, only now understanding why he chased and chased the feeling to have you like this.
Controlling whether he can stick his dick in you, controlling whether he can fuck off and die.
That’s how it’s supposed to be in a relationship, but somehow it’s something else between both of you. For him, it’s like you’ve intentionally edged him for an entire week and for you it’s like you finally have control over your own sexuality again.
You feel powerful, and Jake wants to be entirely at your mercy.
“No one has ever wanted me this bad and waited.” You finally say to his intense and loving stare. “I want to give you anything you want.”
If he had a tail, it would be wagging so fast right now. It’s like he’s being given a treat for being exactly who you needed him to be, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing it.
“I could wait longer,” Jake mumbles, inching his lips to yours and letting his other hand cup one of your tits. “You could make me suffer,” He continues, whispering it right into your mouth. “Could lock me up and starve me of it.”
You lean your face back, a little shocked at his choice of words there.
“So you meant those things you said earlier?” You ask, remembering how he babbled on about wanting you to suffocate him, about how he wanted you to take everything from him.
“Do you want me to be honest?” He counters, now pressing his hips forward and letting his cock weep against your thigh.
You nod to him.
“I want you to take it all out on me.” He admits, gripping your tit in his hand tighter, hiking your leg up higher. “I want you to control every aspect of my life.”
Honestly, it shouldn’t be a thought that brightens your brain but it does. It sounds toxic, and you can’t even tell if he’s saying this just because he’s horny and is about two seconds from slamming you up and against this window with the force of his cock alone. Somehow, you love the thought of all of it.
“Every aspect?” You ask with interest. “What do you mean?”
He chuckles as he hangs his head, watching his length pulse constantly against your thigh and the panties hanging off of it. Only then does he release your tit and use your panties as a way to position his cock up, lining up with the wet of your core that is only for him.
“It means–” He starts, sliding into you with a paused moan, hiccuping slightly as he furrows his brows. “I want you to make me cry for you.” He continues with a tilt to his head as he watches the way you wince at all of the strength he has to hold you up like this, to slide into you like this. “I want you to hurt me, and I want you to love doing it.”
He bottoms out after that, holding you in place and feeling your walls struggle to adjust to the tight fit.
“It’s what you deserve.” He soothes out to you, kissing you once. “To take someone the same way you’ve been taken.”
You recoil instantly, pussy restricting in horror at the reminder of why you never do this with another person, but god the way he lifts on his toes just to plunge somehow deeper into you. The way his lips trap you even more, the way his force is nothing but fucking amazing to feel. All you can do is moan, bump your head against the window, and squeeze him.
“You said you wanted to give me what I want–” He slides out of you just a little bit. “So, can you?” He pushes back in, listening to you get wetter at his words and feeling your answer when you can’t seem to speak for yourself.
“I said I’d never hurt you, love,” He coos out this time, watching your body shift up against the window as he picks up some sort of rhythm, taking you the way he’s always wanted you. Right here, against the window. “But I never said that you couldn’t hurt me.”
Why the fuck is that so hot? God, why does a man like Jake offer you so much? Why is he doing this to you? Why is he doing it to himself? Why do you love it?
You find yourself nodding as you moan out, still not quite adjusted to his size and the way he made it fit into you in such a…pleasurable way. It doesn’t hurt at all, it feels good.
“Yeah, I knew you would.” He continues to talk as if he’s not internally losing it, but months worth of pretending, several orgasms today alone, and having your pussy hugging him just as tightly as he knew it would? That’s helpful.
And now, as your fingers grip at him through his harsh and deep thrusts, all he can do is hold your leg against him, lean forward, and stare directly into his apartment window. As if he’s mocking his former self, as if everything in the world has fallen into place. You wouldn’t leave him now, never, you’d be just as stupid as everyone else if that were the case.
He has faith in you, in himself, in this, and the way you drip all over him.
He knew you’d be perfect for him.
It doesn’t take long, really, for him to pull an orgasm out of you when he’s doing it this good. In fact, you don’t even have to reach a hand down to help pull it out of you by the time your body begins to stiffen up at it.
His pace is slow, his cock is deep, and fuck his entire body is on you. You couldn’t squeeze your hand down if you tried, in fact, you don’t think he’d even consider letting you do any of this on your own.
His grip is so strong, you can feel your sweat stick to the window as you slam your head down on his shoulder, sliding up and down the window with each of his powerful thrusts.
It feels so good to do this again.
“Jake–” You hiccup against his neck, listening to his heaved and choked breaths through each thrust. “I wish I had done this sooner.” You manage to get out, body tensing and relaxing by the minute with the threat of an orgasm. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
And honestly, you don’t know what’s gotten into you, nor do you fucking care. If you want to cry, you’ll fucking cry. It’s been too long since your tears hit you out of pleasure, or happiness, or fucking safety. At this rate, you’ll never let this man go.
“I know baby, I know.” He soothes you, arms shaking as he holds you up and thrusting in as deep as he can go.
You feel him stutter in his pace, his hips stopping as you feel his heavy cock pulsate against your clenching walls.
“Are you close?” He says, pulling back and looking at you. “Is that why you’re sorry?”
You look at him with glassy eyes, smiling dazed at him as you shake your head.
“No,” You smile wider, running your hands up and into his hair, remembering what he asked for before. You tug, forcing his head to tilt back so that you can attach your lips to him. “I’m saying it because I want you to always make me feel this good.” You whisper against his pulse point, kissing it hard.
You feel him lose composure at that, his hips immediately moving again, slamming up and into you so hard that you can’t even hold your head still enough to kiss him there again.
“Ah, fuck,” He whimpers out, “why would you fucking say that to me right now?” He continues, relentlessly fucking himself against the soft and sensitive spot inside of you. “You still make me feel so insane, only you could do this to me.”
You smile, having learned that he appears to love the torture anyway.
“You love it though, don’t you Jakey?” You say, loving the way he loses it for you, learning how badly he’s wanted this, seeing him intend to stay.
And at those words, he can’t take it anymore. Fuck the camera, fuck anything else in the world that isn’t you. He ignores that wince on your face when he slips out of you, ignores the way the panties fall from his length, and focuses entirely on the way you hug him as he carries you straight to the couch.
Right there, he drops you and watches the way your tits bounce at the motion.
“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” He says, feeling the arousal run through his veins, knowing you’d love to hear him say that while never knowing just how true it is. “How are you real?”
You smile, hiding your face as you feel his hands hold your thighs open. You know what he’s looking at, and you can’t force yourself to see him do it. Solely because you know it’s going to swell your heart so big that you’d only fear the day he wants to leave it empty.
And you don’t respond either, because you can’t. His fingers are spreading you open and you can hear him drop to his knees yet again for you. You wan’t to look so bad, but still, you fear the love in his eyes.
You fear and want all of it.
He hears the sharp inhale you give when he spreads you out, really inspecting the single spot on your body that no one on this earth should ever see aside from him.
“This is where it hurt the most, isn’t it?” He asks, staring into the hole he’s already fucked, watching it beg him for more despite his words that probably stab your soul.
You’ll never understand how he can take your pain and turn it into something you don’t mind hearing though. Yes, that’s where it hurt the most, and still, that’s where you want him the most.
“Yeah, baby?” He asks again, reaching an arm up and forcing you to look at him. “This is what you were so afraid of?” He continues, dipping down and rubbing his face directly into the folds and inhaling a deep breath.
“Y-yeah.” You choke out at the feeling, in awe of how you knew his eyes would make you terrified. He still stares up at you as he does it, pointing his glare straight through you and into your fucking spirit.
Only Jake can make you fear nothing else in this world aside from the thought of losing him.
“I’ll make it better,” He says, boosting his ego at the way your legs wrap around his head. “You’ll always want me here,” He continues, cooing out with each taste and lick of your budding arousal. “You’ll never want me to stop–”
No man has ever wanted you this bad while having you, even as you experienced the trauma of just that. Your ex wanted you physically, but something about the man drying to drown himself in your pussy right now makes you feel like he wants you on a level far deeper than what’s possible.
He’s eating you out like he wants to eat you whole. Like he could devour you, and never spit you out of his mouth.
“Shit, shit–” You moan, hands shooting down to his hair yet again, finding yourself loving the way his grown-out roots feel softer than the harsher dyed section of his hair. You tug harder than you have before, feeling his tongue search and yearn for everything you have to offer him.
“Mhm.” He mumbles with a mouth full of pussy, rolling his eyes back at how you do just as he suggested before. Rubbing his nose in it, letting him continue to lose himself in the point of all of his problems.
And it’s as if you forgot that this only happens to reach a point of coming. The experience alone feels like one long and drawn out orgasm already, it doesn’t take anything at all for him to get you there.
It’s like he already knows it too, because you go entirely silent with a held breath as he holds your hips and buries his tongue deep inside of you. He wants to feel it, he wants to taste it. And he suffers for it, really, neglecting his own cock and knowing he’s going to come through this alone anyway.
As expected, he does. Upon the first gush of your slick hitting his tongue, his cock pulses, his balls squeeze up, and he can feel it shoot out of him each time your pussy shakes against his suffocated mouth.
And your hands, so perfect in his hair, pulling without even knowing. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, this is more than he could have ever asked for.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By this point in your relationship, the two of you have moved so quickly that it doesn’t even scare you. In fact, if it slowed down at any point, you’d probably be preparing a suicide note simply because you don’t want to be in this world without Jake.
Since the first time you got intimate with him, it’s like it hasn’t stopped. You’re shocked at his thirst for you and even more shocked that someone so fucking perfect would waste his breath on you even for this long.
It hasn’t been that long, really, since the first time you touched him. A few days at most, but it’s like that moment solidified a lot for the two of you.
One, he’s not going to be sleeping in his own bed anytime soon or, ever, really. Two, you’ve learned through at least two more sessions of Jake’s mouth on you that he really does want you to live up to his requests. He makes it known how badly he wants you to make him suffer, how badly he needs you to give him everything he wants. Thankfully, he’s patient with your reluctance. And Three, your ex is no longer a threat.
Each message you receive, you just hand your phone to Jake and he takes care of it.
It doesn’t even translate in your head that you’ve been barred from answering your mother’s calls until the police show up at your door for a wellness check. Where, of course, Jake answers,
“Yeah, she’s here.” You hear his voice as you lay flat against your bed, heaving breaths as if he didn’t just have the tip of his dick in you. “Why?” You hear him question.
A few more muffled words and you hear the door close and his footsteps making his way to your room.
“Cops.” He dead-pans, “Your mom thinks you're dead.” he adds with an eye roll.
Your internal panic, a feeling you had once been so accustomed to that now feels almost foreign, takes over your body.
“Fuck, my mom!” You say in a fast breath, rushing onto your feet and throwing on a pair of his soiled sweatpants.
Jake hangs back but listens to your conversation from your hallway, listening intently to how you speak to other men, cops or not.
“Yeah,” You say, scratching your temple with shame. “I guess I didn’t realize she was calling me so much.”
Try five times a day.
“I’ll call her now, sorry for wasting your time.” You continue with that nervous chuckle that you used to use on him during your dates.
And then you’re back in the room, looking at him with a raised brow.
“Why didn’t you tell me my mom has been calling?” You ask, a little annoyed that it’s gotten to the point of freaking your mother out.
Jake shrugs, then looks at you apologetically.
“I don’t like when she forces you to talk about it.” He finally says, sulking his shoulders and huffing out. “I don’t like that she tells you to be careful around me.”
You roll your eyes, relieved that he’s just being himself and wanting to keep you happy.
“Still, you should have told me. She’s going to have a fucking heart attack thinking he showed up at my work place again.”
Jake’s entire brain stops working, his body going rigid as if the cold air outside is hitting him in full force.
Your eyes immediately widen as you slam your hand over your mouth. Fuck, you forgot that you told her in a hushed tone, explaining that it’s okay. That Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to you.
Fuck.
“He what?” Jake says, dumbfounded at the slip of your words.
“Jake, wait–” You try to get an explanation but he’s not having it.
“You haven’t been at work, what do you mean he showed up?” He glares, chest heaving as his heart rate picks up.
“It was from that day when you first stayed over,” You look at the floor apologetically. “I didn’t want to talk about it…” You trail off, feeling his energy hit you in the face at how he’s completely shifted from that loving, soft boyfriend you’re so used to.
“You kept that from me!?” He seethes out in disbelief. This whole time he thought he fucked your ex up enough to prove what would happen if he even fucking tried it. By you explaining that it happened just after Jake found him, that’s a direct insult.
A threat.
A fucking death wish.
“I didn’t–” You stutter trying to explain yourself. “I didn’t think it would matter since you were here. You were keeping me safe.”
“You lied to me?” He continues interrogating you, coming up to you and practically demanding an answer through his eyes.
You look away, nodding.
“You said you wanted me to keep you safe, what would have happened if you had to go to work again?” He drones on and on, seemingly stuck on the fact that you didn’t tell him. “What would happen if they called you to go in today?”
Already you’re starting to cry, feeling stupid for not making a bigger deal out of it. To be fair, not talking about it helped and you did intend to tell him at some point. That just…never happened.
“I would have asked you to stay with me at work.” You say, feeling numb as the fear of losing the man in front of you steals your every thought. “I’d have not gone. I’d have quit. I don’t know!”
Jake backs down at your words, only able to soften his rage if you’re the one who causes it.
“Baby,” His soft voice shocks you when you feel him come back to himself, as if to comfort the fear he just instilled in you. “I’m not mad.”
Yes he is, you know he is.
“Now you’re the one lying.” You argue, pushing him away only to feel his grip on you tighten.
“Am I?” He asks, urging you to keep talking. “Are you mad at me now?” He continues, intentionally pushing your buttons.
“Mad that I should have already known?”
“Mad that I didn’t let you talk to your mom?”
“Mad that I’m keeping you safe, while you keep putting yourself in the position to be hurt by him again?”
You stare at the floor.
“Mad that this is your fault?”
Yeah, you are mad.
“Fuck you, Jake.” You break, feeling his strangling fingers on your skin scratch and leave welts when you force yourself away from him. “Fuck you for all of that.”
“What else?” He presses, hanging on specific words. “Fuck me for what else?”
You just stare at him, and he can see the anger in your eyes.
“For not being there when it happened?” He asks gently. “For not killing him when I had the chance?”
When he had the chance.
“What do you–” You try to ask, but he just continues, closing back in on you.
Somehow, you need it, despite wanting to pull away every time.
“Fuck me for wanting this from you, right?” He says, much closer to you and dipping down to kiss you. “Fuck me for wanting you to be this mad, hmm?”
You break again, something deep within you spiraling into a different type of insanity you’ve never felt. You don’t feel trauma, you don’t feel scared, you feel…enraged.
“Fuck me for thinking you look perfect,” He whispers against your lips. “Fuck me to fuck me, fuck me to fight me, fuck me.”
The repeated words fit into your brain like they belong there. Like this anger is supposed to be filling you with pleasure rather than dread. Like you’re supposed to feel just as in love as you are mad.
“Just fuck me, baby.”
And god fucking dammit. How does he crawl into the depths of your brain, like a fucking roach, and kiss all of the areas you don’t know exist? How the fuck does he wake shit up inside of you that you never dreamed of having, or feeling, or wanting.
“I hate you.” You say, and meaning it too.
Because you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone more than you do now.
“Yeah, I bet you do.” He smiles, dipping his hand down into the sweats you put on and sliding into the same slick he had spilling out of you just before the pigs showed up. “I love it.” He chuckles against your lips when you refuse to moan at his touch.
You’re pushing against every good feeling inside of you right now, thinking only of how this rage spills out of you and against his fingers.
“So wet to hate me–” He says, pressing and pressing and pressing for you to just fucking– “Hit me.”
He sees your eyes shine at the very thought of how badly you must want to do that, unknowing of how much he wants it too. Needing it almost.
And oh, the moan he lets out when your weak hands raise to shove him back. He plays off of it, stumbling back to your bed just to fall on it. Waiting, knowing you’ll come take him for all he’s worth.
“Come on, love.” He encourages you. “Make me sorry.”
You hate him, and you hate that you love it. Love that he loves it, fucking adore that he wants this, he wants to let you do whatever you want to him.
To kick, cry, scream, release everything that’s been trapped in your head for years.
You don’t even falter, feeling it bubble up and overtake every thought. Dripping down your legs as if this is the only way you could ever fulfill your own pleasure again. Only now to you slide the pants back off of you, so horny out of your mind that all you can manage is to feel these emotions drip for him.
He watches you straddle him bare from the waist down, sees your breath shaking, and your lips quivering.
Jake knew you had it in you.
“Take them off.” You demand, rolling your eyes at the way he looks up at you with pure bliss.
“Hit me first.” He offers, feeling his cock strained against his own pants that he haphazardly threw on when he heard the knock at your door. “Hit me, and I’ll fuck the hate out of you.” He lies.
“Take them off.” You repeat, cold hands reaching down as you do it yourself, lifting just enough to shove them down far enough.
And god, the breath is knocked clean out of him with the way you just take him. You slide down perfectly, bottoming him out in one motion. He can see now that you need this perhaps even more than he does.
“God, come on baby.” He moans, feeling you just sit still on him.
“Jake,” You warn, running your cold hands up to his neck on instinct. “Shut up.” You squeeze.
The smile that forms on his face is pornographic at best, and drunk at worst. You see him love every instant of it, and you don’t want to admit that you do too.
You didn’t know it would feel so good to have a man’s neck in your hands, squeezing it just to shut him up. Releasing it just to hear him gasp out a praise.
“So good,” He praises, eyebrows knitted together as he loses himself to the way your pussy chokes his length. You’re not even fucking him, you’re just– “So perfect.” He continues, nearly wailing out at the immense love he feels inside.
And then, you do. You hit him. Power hungry and entirely at a loss for your own pleasure, you land a harsh and loud slap right against his face, only for him to moan louder.
Only for him to fuck up.
Only for him to grip your sheets so tight that you hear a rip.
Again. You slap him, feeling your anger slowly fizzle with each frantic moan he gives back.
Again, and again.
“Shit, you love that, don’t you?” He manages to say, feeling his cheeks sting with red-hot passion, only to be hit again, and again. “God, make it hurt.”
At this point, you know that you could never give him enough as the rage leaves your body entirely and it’s replaced with nothing but the need to just….fuck him. Never in your life have you ever been blinded by a need so badly, save for safety.
And you have that now, don’t you? You have Jake now, right where you want him, right he wants to be. He wants you to feel this, he made you feel this.
The first bounce felt like pure agony, slamming his cock into you by your own force, feeling him stretch you open, hearing it slap and echo against the walls.
“Make it hurt?” You finally say, pinching his cheeks together and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t think I could hurt you enough if I tried.” You admit, quite truthfully, mind you.
Jake gives you a crooked smirk.
“Try it anyway.” He coos, feeling the way you repeatedly arch your back just to ride him faster. “Could fill you up, right here, right now, flip you over and make you take it if you’re so worried that you can’t.”
It runs through you like a cold shiver. You don’t want to give up this power, you want to try.
“That’s big talk for someone asking to be choked right now.” You dead-pan at him, voice even and calm. You continue to move your hips, listening to his repeated moans with each breath. “So loud and needy for it too.”
Jake nods proudly and drunkenly, reaching his hands out to yours and forcing them back on his neck.
“I could be needier.” He says, pressing your hands against his airways.
You take over for him, choking his remaining words out of him and forcing him to moan.
“You said you’d make me take it?” You seethe out through your own pained moan, riding him so hard that you feel sensitive. “Like you think it would hurt me?”
He shakes his head rapidly, implying that you’re wrong to think that. Wanting to tell you that if he made you take it, you’d love every second of it. You wouldn’t tell him no.
“After promising you never would, Jake?” You question still, knowing he can’t answer. You squeeze harder as you watch his face darken, the blood rushing to burst in the whites of his eyes. “Is that it? You want to hurt me so that I hurt you back?”
He nods in a daze, wanting nothing more than to die like this now, or some other day. To hear your voice, feel your hands, and know that you’re fucking him through it.
“You don’t scare me.” You finally say, releasing the grasp and listening to the sharp inhale he takes in. “As much as I wish you did, you don’t.”
That’s all it takes really, knowing that he could work you like a puppet and you’d still love him. Why else would you say that? You wouldn’t fuck him like this if you didn’t mean it. Your mother long forgotten, the anger gone, it’s just a raw form of you and him right now.
Everything you’re saying is more truthful than he ever thinks you’ve been with him.
“Want me to?” He finally asks with a wet gasp as he continues to catch his breath. “I bet I could.”
“You can’t.” You say, now slowing your hips as your legs tire out, bracing yourself on his shoulders to take a breath.
“I can.” He says, immediately overpowering you. He sits up quick, flipping you right over and onto your back. “I can make you feel anything I want.” He whispers darkly to you. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, lost entirely from this reality. “Anything you want.”
You just stare up at him, willing to accept his words even more when he slams his length into you, so deep that you feel nothing but the pain of it.
For the first time, he’s hurting you through pleasure alone.
“Could make you love it too,” He continues to dote on himself as he watches the sparkle in your eye dim. “You love it already, don’t you?”
“I’m not afraid.” You manage to mutter out through a guttural groan, wincing at the way he drives himself into you at such a speed that all you feel is pain.
“I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.” He chuckles, feeling entirely in control of whatever entity is running his body right now. “I see you baby, you’re terrified to lose me.”
Your eyes die in that moment, because out of anything in this world, he’s pinpointed your biggest fear.
“So pretty when you’re scared too,” He hums out, not relenting at all with the force of his hips when he lets your legs fall around him, and he finds himself burying his face between your tits. “Maybe I should threaten to leave you.”
Instantly, you cry.
“Just so I can eat up these little tears you have for me.”
You wish he would shut up.
“So I can taste the way you come on me, and feel your pussy try and lock me here.” He smooths over your nipple at the words, slowing his hips and pulling out just to the tip. “Your body tells me more than you know, love.”
Your eyes roll up when his pointed thrust shoves your body across your sheets, your hands reach for his shoulders, clawing for any sense of normality to this moment.
“So quiet.” He lightens his own voice now, letting it fall against your collarbone in a tone just above a whisper. “So stubborn.”
Your mind awakens at the insult, hoping he’s right.
“To think I’d ever leave you.” He smiles, lifting up to meet your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He tastes your tears and it’s just enough for him to forgive you.
To forgive you for not hitting him enough, for not choking him until he died. To forgive you for even thinking you’d need to talk to your mother, and for fucking lying to him.
And only now does he go quiet, fucking you will full intent now that he’s already in your head at every turn and corner. He can tell with the way you don’t even realize your previous orgasm.
With the way it bubbled out and down his balls, hugging his cock so tightly that all he could do was keep fucking with your mind, toying with threats only to silence them.
And then, you inhale a sob, and breathe out his name, so pretty to your ears, even more beautiful to his own.
“Don’t leave me.” You chime out, body numb and emotions threatening you into a panic attack.
“I’m right here, love.” He chuckles. “You’re shaking.”
You are. More than you can even comprehend, your body is shaking from feeling everything and nothing at once, all the way up until you do feel something.
“Ah, shit.” You cry out, hugging his body so tightly against you. “Right there–”
And Jake does it, angling his hips to repeatedly hit the spot inside of you. Knowing you’re sensitive, knowing you can take it, knowing that he can’t when he feels every drop in your body push him out of you.
Instantly he plunges back in, listening to the wet sounds of all that love you must have for him. He can barely move in this suffocating hug as your body shakes and quivers more than it ever has, even through your past traumas, even through the cold nights this city offers.
He has spent you and fucked you dry.
“There she is,” He echoes into your ear. “The girl of my dreams.”
The only energy left in you is enough to give him a smile before your tunnel vision fades into nothingness.
It feels calm in the darkness he gives you, and even calmer when you wake up feeling as if all of this was a dream.
It wasn’t though, because you can feel the way you’re still leaking all over your bed. Your own slick mixed with his, and you don’t even remember when or how he orgasmed because he certainly was taking his time before you initially fainted, but you’re glad he did. You think he is too, with the way he clings to you like a puppy, as if he didn’t just fuck reality straight out of you.
Lending you the gift of floating, and of pain you find yourself to love.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Waking up the next morning felt like you were a new person and you couldn’t be happier to see the saddest version of you die. The only fear you need to have is that Jake may some day choose to leave, and he said himself that he never would.
You trust him more than anyone, more than yourself even, considering he’s managed to force you into facing so many versions of yourself that you didn’t even know you had.
This is the first morning you’ve woken up without your skin crawling and you can’t help but shake him awake, destroying that blushed and sleeping face of his.
“Jake,” You shake him, feeling him stir instantly and lend you a crooked smile. “Wake up.”
You listen to his morning stretch as his body vibrates in a yawn, and then he’s nuzzling his face even further into your naked chest.
For what feels like hours, you find yourself engaging in pillow talk. Logging into work? Long forgotten. Calling your mother? Forgotten. The pain in your body? Ignored.
You tell him everything. Every detail of your life, your first memory, your first laugh and cry. All of the times your heart has been shattered, your least favorite colors and favorite words in the world. And he just…listens.
He nods, he smiles, he coos and kisses you throughout all of it.
And then–
“You know, a while back before we met, I came home and noticed some of my things were missing and messed with. I can’t help but feel like he’s known where I’ve been this whole time.”
Jake stiffens in your grasp before relaxing. It happened so fast that you don’t think anyone but you would have noticed it.
“Some of my panties were gone, and the batteries in my toys went missing weeks ago–not that it matters now or anything.” You continue, watching his face intently. “ At first I thought that maybe I was just forgetful but– now i know that it really was him.” You pause, smiling at him. “I’m just kind of waiting now, wondering if he’s ever going to try and do it again.”
“Do you want me to kill him?” Jake chuckles out as if to offer a funny little solution, one that he has genuinely considered more times than he can count. And he should have already, honestly.
You feel warmer at the way he makes jokes, but you know better than anyone that Jake jumps into action driven only by rage at times.
“He won’t come near you again, love, haven’t I proved that to you already?” He continues, imagining the blood of his man on his fists again. Imagining the way his bones would crack so beautifully.
You nod in an almost shy way to him.
“You’re safe with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around himself as you cradle him. “You’re safe with me.” He continues, repeating it more to himself because he feels as though he can’t fail you again, “You’ve always been safe.”
You haven’t believed words so deeply until you met him.
“He already fucking knows–” He whispers shortly, cutting himself off. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers a bit louder, uncaring if you heard that first slip of his words.
Something in your brain floods at those words. A confirmation that you’ve seen him break before, and it wasn’t your imagination. Your protective, loving, and sweet boyfriend has a side to him that you’ve yet to truly see. Those words were more believable than any of the sweet things he’s ever said to you.
And still, you almost want to encourage it, reminding yourself of the image of your ex the day he showed up, all bruised up. And then to the image of Jake with his own little battle scar.
Deep down you think you knew what happened.
And you still wonder how such a perfect man fell into your lap? Your bruised up, pain-loving boyfriend, breaking his soft persona and showing you a glimpse of something that feels….unnervingly beautiful to you.
Unsure, almost, you feel. As happy as you are that he lied to you, you try to not think of how Jake found your ex with nothing more than an out-of-context description of your abuse. You try not to think of the way he looked away from you when you mentioned the items in your apartment that went missing.
You try not to think about how close he lives to you, and how he always managed to show up when you couldn’t hang out.
How all of his interests matched your own, up until he never spoke about them again when he started staying with you.
How he only looks at you, how he only talks to you, and about you.
How he always knew what to say to you.
You try not to think about how you saw him toss his own laundry into your washer many nights ago, seeing a glimpse of what you thought could have been a pair of your own missing panties. Or how he always accidentally picked up your toothbrush rather than his own in the mornings.
You push those thoughts far into the back of your mind, knowing that you were just being paranoid, grasping to not trust a single person in this world as you fall into this life with him. Even if all of those instances were with purpose on his end, you know you’d simply accept them as normal. You’d accept him, you wouldn’t think twice.
Jake is your only safety. He would never do anything to harm you, he’s proved that.
You hold his head tighter against your chest, breathing out a sigh and accepting everything at face value, pushing back the slight doubt in your head that everything he has done for you, to you, and with you, isn’t normal.
“Did you tell him already?” You sigh out in a calmer tone, soothing him with your fingers in his hair. “That you’d kill him? Is that really why you had that bruise?”
Jake stiffens under your grasp briefly.
“What do you m–” He starts.
“I won’t ask how,” You cut him off. “But thank you.”
He relaxes, thumbs now rubbing hearts into your skin, stomach bubbling in butterflies.
“I did.” He now admits reluctantly, feeling dangerously close to a truth you don’t need to see or know about. “I couldn’t just let another person think that you still belong to them.”
You pause, then nuzzle closer to him.
“I knew from the first time I saw you that I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.” He continues, spilling and spilling. “I knew that you’d be mine.”
You try not to think too hard about it, asking out gently and instead choosing to just love him harder.
“When was the first time you saw me?”
Jake goes silent and tries to read the air in the room, sensing how relaxed you are against him.
“Eighteenth of October at the supermarket. We both made spaghetti for dinner that night.” He lies, never intending to admit that the first time he saw you was through your window. Never admitting that he actually already knew you by that eighteenth of October. That he followed you to the market.
He says it so confidently, and the fact that he’s right about what you cooked should scare you. The fact that you must have seen him that day too should make you feel unnerved.
You choose to ignore that too.
“Was your spaghetti good?” You ask, allowing yourself to spiral into the safety that he offers you. The image of your bruised ex boyfriend bringing joy to you, the idea of Jake keeping his promises making your stomach tingle with even brighter joy.
“No.” He admits with a chuckle. “Yours was probably better.”
“You really would kill him, wouldn’t you?”
Jake nods.
You trust him.
He’s not lying.
He would never lie to you.
Him knowing what you cooked that night is a coincidence. Him remembering the date and month is just him being mindful. Your lost panties must have gotten tangled in his laundry, surely. He found your ex because you probably let sensitive information slip without realizing it.
He met your mother and uncle by coincidence.
He’s the perfect man by chance, and you’re lucky to have him.
“I love you, you know.” You say, feeling him immediately shift away from your chest to look at you.
The look in his eye when he’s immediately getting on top of you, it’s still as if he’s about to wisp away with you in his arms to another realm. You’ve already been there before, and your body warms at the thought.
“What did you say?” He asks, voice shaking and somewhat far away from your own dissociated reality.
“I love you.” You say again, watching his lips quiver, and feeling his hands squeeze you.
He did it. He’s won.
And at the end of the day, you don’t think Jake could ever lose. After all, you’ve never felt so safe in a grasp as tight as this one, as painful as this one. You’ve never wanted a man to leave his fingerprints on you so bad.
As you look at him, seeing him lose himself from reality, you follow suit. Losing yourself with him, feeling that painful grasp on you turn into begging hands. Swelling him under your palms, soothing his stinging skin with your lips, listening to him encourage you, knowing that if your ex ever tried to step into this room, he wouldn’t make it out alive.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
oh, the horrors, amirite?
this is the last of the fic. there is not a part three.
taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs
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Reckless*
Summary: The third part to Knockout*
The one where Harry secretly gets paid to fight, but you're the one paying the price.
Word Count: 9.2k (...no comment)
Content Warning: 18+, violence, mentions of an abusive ex, mentions of blood, smut
Harry’s fist instantly snaps closed around your hand, subtly but pointedly tugging you back. Seeming to want to put a bit of space between you and the man standing before you.
“Oh, do you…know each other?” you ask slowly, glancing between the two rather curiously.
Jesse offers nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow, redirecting his attention back to Harry as though encouraging him to respond.
Harry merely grits his teeth. “We used to. Long time ago.”
It’s hardly an answer, somehow just as frustratingly vague as you expected, yet you nod, nevertheless. “Ah. I see.”
Jesse’s smile somehow stretches a bit bigger. “Are you working today?”
“Uh, no. Just…came by for the keys,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other almost nervously. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Thought I’d…maybe stick around a bit? Catch up?”
Harry’s grip gets stronger.
“Besides, today’s pie is apple, yeah?” he asks. “You know it’s my favorite.”
You force a tight-lipped grin and a hum of acknowledgement before the three of you fall silent. Continuing to stand by the door to the diner as the rest of the room continues on with their lunch. Their soft murmurs and clinging cutlery like white noise in the background of the conversation.
You clear your throat. “Okay, well…I’m gonna…I’m gonna tell him goodbye, and—”
“Oh, sure, no problem,” Jesse says, waving you away before returning to the counter. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”
The last word has hardly left his mouth when Harry suddenly spins on his heel and drags you back through the door. Pulling you into the parking lot without so much as a goodbye before leading you around the side of the building.
“Harry,” you murmur hesitantly, almost cautious of his rather silent reaction. In the little time you’ve known him, you’ve never known him to be this quiet when he’s upset. Or this well behaved. “What’s wrong, what is it?”
He continues his furious stride until he’s brought you both into the alley. Releasing you in order to run a hand through his hair with a strained, “Fuck.”
You slow to a stop and stare at his tensed back. “Harry?”
A long pause. Deafening and loud enough to lodge your heart in your throat.
Finally, “How do you know him?”
“What?”
“Fucking Jesse, how do you know him?” he repeats, somewhat viciously.
Your head tilts. “We…I mean we’re friends, but we…we used to date. For a while. Couple years ago. Why?”
He turns, and the pinching of his features together makes your stomach twist. “Was it him?”
“…Harry—”
“Was it…him?” His eyes flick to yours. “The one you fucking told me about. The one who treated you like shit, the one who fucking threw things at you. Was it him?”
You’re almost surprised he remembered. After all, the revelation of your last relationship had been quite a while ago. An off-handed comment made one stormy night as you sat together in his favorite booth, talking about the past and exchanging odd traumas.
But he does. He remembers. And he’s looking at you like your answer is going to break his heart.
You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your chest. “Yes.”
Your voice is small. Timid and weak, nearly carried away with the wind. But it reaches him, nevertheless, and his expression guts you.
He steps back. Trying to get away, either from you or your admission. The truth he can no longer stand to be so close to.
“Why?” he whispers, and your lashes flutter. “Why did you…why would you keep him in your fucking life after he…”
You offer him the same answer you’ve offered everyone else. “I don’t know.”
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and takes another step. Glancing over your face as if searching for more than you have to give. “Cherry…”
“I know.” You can feel the tears already working their way to your waterline. “I know, but he’s…he’s trying to do better. He’s trying to change—”
“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets almost vengefully. “No, that’s bullshit. He’s not…guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding it.”
Maybe he’s right. But it stings to hear. “I…yeah. I know. But we’re just…we’re friends. We don’t talk a lot, just when he needs help.”
“So he uses you?”
“No, he…” You hesitate. “I don’t know. I don’t think he means to—”
His vile scoff cuts through the rest of your excuse, and perhaps it’s for the better.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, fingers itching to reach for him. You feel naked without his body against yours. “I should have…I should have warned you. Or told you, I just…I didn’t think—”
“Are you safe?”
You stop. “What?”
“Are you safe?” he repeats, a tad softer. “When he’s around you, do you feel safe? Do you know that you’re safe, and that he won’t…that you can leave? If you need to?”
You consider this for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes. He’s never…it’s never been like that. He’s just…he gets very angry. And sad. And I think…a part of me wants to help, I guess.”
His expression drops ever-so-slightly, as if wounded. “I know, Cher.” He moves closer to you once again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. He places his palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb beneath your eye. Wiping away the first tear. “You always give your kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”
You take hold of his wrist and bite back a sigh. “Everybody deserves kindness.”
“Maybe.” His voice is quiet. Labored and thick. “But maybe you deserve it more.”
There’s something…heavy in the way he speaks. In the way he feels. As though he’s carrying the entire weight of his world – and yours – on his shoulders.
You know there’s more to the story. More to this anger that’s so prominent in his heart and more to his background with Jesse. You want to ask, want to understand.
But if he wanted you to know, he would have offered.
Maybe he thinks he’s sparing you. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you in the only way he can, and you feel grateful for him. Grateful for this subtle, unspoken act of intimacy and protection that you’ve become so familiar with in the time you’ve known your handsome stranger.
You choose to have faith in him. In what brought you to him.
“I have to go,” he says now, dipping down to brush his forehead to yours. “Cause if I don’t, I’ll fucking kill him.”
You smile to yourself, but a part of you knows he means it. “Okay. Will I see you again?”
His other hand slips around the back of your neck, keeping you close before he exhales a shaky breath and brings his lips to yours. Kissing you hard and with a thousand unspoken promises. “Of course. M’never gonna leave you, sweet girl. Swear it.”
And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
You kiss him until you can’t breathe, clinging to his hoodie as if begging with him to stay. To keep himself close to you.
And when he eventually pulls away, you nearly crumple to the ground.
“Okay,” he whispers, reaching back to slip his hood on. “Okay, I gotta go. Or I’ll never leave.”
You touch your fingers to your lips and nod once. “I know. Just come back, okay?”
He grins, and it’s wickedly delicious. “Always.”
With that, he turns around, and disappears down the alley. Rounding the corner of the building before disappearing from sight.
Leaving you exactly where he found you, only a few hours ago.
With a heavy heart and weary mind, you make your back into the diner and toward the man still waiting for you.
Jesse has never scared you. Annoyed you, but never scared you. He’s been in your life far longer than you care to admit, ever since you were just kids. And maybe that’s why you keep him around. Because a part of you believes you owe it to the people you used to be.
You loved him. You really did. He was cute, charming, witty. He made you smile, made you laugh. He listened when you talked, said all of the right things. Of course you wanted to believe him when he said he’d do anything to make it work.
His anger had taken him away from you. Had changed who he was. Or perhaps merely highlighted who he’d always been.
He was the one to end things. Claiming he could never offer you the life you deserved. That until he had his temper under control, he couldn’t be with you. You had agreed to remain friends and help him when he lost his way.
He seems to lose his way a lot these days.
And maybe that’s the part that scares you…just a little bit.
“Hey, sugarplum,” he calls once you enter, grinning brighter than he has in weeks. “You all right?”
You nod as you join him near the counter, hands disappearing into your pockets as if to hide. “Mhm. Are you?”
“Absolutely.” He leans over to nudge his elbow against yours. “Feel like it’s been forever.”
“Jess, I saw you last week,” you can’t help but laugh.
“I know, but that was last week,” he argues coyly. “Which is like a lifetime ago.”
And even if there’s a part of you that feels cautious of him, there’s also something so familiar about his company. The sound of his voice, the way he laughs. His effortless ability to remind you of the way things used to be.
Despite how it ended, you can’t help but feel calmed. Your muscles unwinding as you grow a bit more comfortable in his presence.
“Ha, very funny,” you tease, stepping closer as though drawn in by his charm. “Well, if you’re waiting for the apple pie, that’s not until tomorrow.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to come back.”
The conversation lulls as the two of you smirk at each other, and for the first time in days, you don’t feel so on edge.
“Fine,” you agree. “But you can’t come back to the kitchen with me. Not after last time.”
He pretends to pout, but it only makes you smile. “Oh, come on. Everything was going so well up until the flour incident.”
You reach out and shove his shoulder playfully, and he laughs. “All right, enough. Why are you really here?”
“I told you, I wanna catch up. Clearly I’ve missed a lot.”
The mention of Harry is like a sharp needle to your blissful bubble, popping you free of his spell until you come crashing back to earth. “Right. How, um…how again do you guys know each other?”
“Oh, we don’t. Not really,” Jesse explains, shrugging one shoulder up almost casually. “We used to go to the same gym. Spot each other now and then. But we never really knew each other, I guess.”
“Ah.”
“Was kind of surprised to see him with you, though,” he adds. “But good surprised. I told him he should come check out the diner, and I’m glad to see he listened."
Harry’s previous mention of how he found you suddenly clicks, and you nod, eyes drifting toward the floor. “Yeah, he…he seems to like it here.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Good.” He seems oddly thrilled by this. “And I guess you two are…?”
The implication brings a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly shake your head as you step back. Almost as though guarding yourself from his question. “Oh, no, we’re…we’re just friends. Or we’re…yeah. Friends.”
His brows furrow but he’s smiling. “Are you…sure about that?”
No. “Yeah. We don’t…we don’t really know each other that well, is all. We just…we like to talk.”
“I see.” He studies you for a moment, somewhat curious. “I’m glad he found something here he likes so well.”
The heat in your face begins to burn. “Yeah, he…he really likes the pies.”
Jesse hums, expression mischievous. “Yes. The pies.”
You force a laugh and nudge him again. “Okay, enough. I should…I should probably get back—”
“Wait,” he interrupts, slipping off the stool in order to get closer, “is there…any chance you’d fancy a drive? Thought we could go around the block a few times like we used to. Just…listen to the radio and people watch.”
Truth be told, the offer is compelling. Because you know if you go home, all you’ll do is worry. About Harry, about Jesse. About all the things you wish you could do for them but can’t.
Maybe a distraction is what you need. One day where you aren’t expected to fix everybody else’s problems but your own.
So, you nod. Tentatively but with a small grin that makes Jesse’s entire expression light up.
“Great,” he chuckles before nodding his chin at you. “So…do you want me to drive? Like old times?”
Your answer is to dig back into your pocket for the keys before tossing them over. “Think you already know the answer to that.”
He laughs again and spins the ring around his finger. “Then let’s hit it, sugarplum.”
It’s almost too easy to settle back into your old habits. To follow him to your car, hop inside the passenger seat, and allow him to take you away.
And it’s nice. Comfortable and…safe. Windows down, music loud. The two of you singing along with every bad song that comes on. It really does feel like it used to, and for just one evening, you forget about everything else. And you let yourself just…be.
The two of you drive around the city until the sun goes down. He tells you about his new job at this fancy law firm and you tell him about this new recipe you’re working on for the diner. You talk, and you laugh, and you sing until your stomach hurts.
You forget. And you’re okay with that.
“Okay,” he finally declares not much later after a quick glance at the clock. “I know you have to get back, but I just have one last thing I want to show you.”
Your brow raises. “Oh? What?”
“A surprise.” He begins to grin, almost wickedly, and it makes you smirk. “It’ll just be a quick little detour, and then I’ll have you home. Promise.”
You consider this for only a moment before sighing. “Fine. But just for the record, I hate your surprises.”
He merely winks before taking a left and leading you both out of town.
The further you go, the darker it gets. This part of the city appears to be rather neglected, with very few lights along the street to guide you. The buildings are rundown and abandoned, there’s police tape over half the doors and boards across half the windows.
Sketchy would be putting it mildly.
Yet Jesse appears undeterred, swinging into one of the large, unkempt parking lots where a collection of cars are already gathered.
“I don’t…understand,” you begin slowly, glancing around the dark space in search of answers.
However, instead of answer, he merely puts the car in park, tosses you the keys, and hops out. “You’ll see. Come on.”
Despite your hesitancy, you choose to follow, trailing after him as he begins toward one of the shabby buildings just up ahead.
There’s a strange sort of itch crawling its way up the back of your neck. Blossoming into your cheeks until you feel a twinge of apprehension.
But Jesse walks ahead as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Nonchalant and relaxed, leading you to the door.
Then, he knocks twice, stops, and adds three more.
A beat passes before there’s a sharp, electric buzzing. Immediately followed by the sound of something rather heavy before the door suddenly swings open.
Your breath catches.
The inside of this disheveled building is divine. Luxury drips from floor to ceiling, a rather stark contrast to its exterior. There’s fresh paint on the walls, towers of champagne in each corner of the room, and a crowd of men and women dressed to the nines in their most elegant and expensive outfits.
But there’s something off. They’re yelling, and cursing, and cheering. Raising their glasses while shouting at something happening in the middle of the room.
And that’s when you see him.
Even from this distance, you’d recognize him anywhere. The soft, sweaty curls matted to his forehead. The blood that drips from his mouth and jaw. The tattoos and marks that glisten from his chest – the same tattoos that you saw for the first time only hours ago.
Your stranger. Landing hit after hit to the man standing just opposite him inside the large ring.
You don’t move. You don’t think you can breathe. You can’t think straight or understand…and then Jesse throws his arm around your shoulder.
“Let’s go have a look, yeah?” It’s posed like a question, but he’s already leading you toward the crowd before you can decide on your answer.
Your heart is in your toes as he slips through the collection of onlookers. Pulling you to the front until you have a near perfect view of the violence happening only a few feet away.
A perfect view of him.
You’re not sure how long he’s been at it. Clearly long enough, if the new cuts and fresh bruises are any indication. He doesn’t seem to notice you, instead throwing his arm toward his opponent before ducking down to miss the strike back.
You hear yourself gasp as you recoil away from the forceful blow, nearly hiding yourself beneath Jesse’s arm while he laughs.
“What’s the matter, sugarplum?” he hums. “Thought you’d wanna see what your little boytoy gets up to when he’s not with you.”
You can hear it now. The vindictive sneer hidden beneath his charming chuckle. And that uncomfortable itch begins to burn as you pull yourself back in order to see him. “What?”
Jesse nods toward the boxing ring. “You see, when he’s not with you…he’s quite busy. Beautifully and spectacularly fucking me over.”
You feel the blood drain from your face. “What…what are you talking about?”
“Do you know what this is?” He raises a brow. “Do you know what he really does?”
“He…he fights. He gets paid to fight.”
“Right. And who do you think pays him?”
And that’s when it happens. That’s when the final puzzle piece clicks into place, and you understand. You see the whole picture laid out in front of you, and it wears his face.
“You.” It’s a strained, timid whisper that’s buried beneath the loud, vulgar hollering.
Jesse nods. “Exactly. I pay your boyfriend to beat the shit out of anyone dumb enough to get into that ring with him. And all he has to do…is fucking win.”
The cheering grows louder in your ear as he steps closer. Forcing your attention to split between the two men.
“But I have a problem,” he continues. “You see, Harry can win a fight in his goddamn sleep. He never loses. Ever. That’s why I pay him so much fucking money. That’s why I’m his sponsor.”
Your stomach twists.
“So, imagine my surprise when he suddenly started to lose. Night after night. Over and over. Constantly and consistently losing fights he should have been able to win with his fucking eyes closed.”
There’s something trapped in your throat. The room is spinning, and there’s a ringing in your ear that just won’t quit.
“And then I find out…he’s fucking throwing them.” His hand finds your hip and he turns you toward the ring. “Every goddamn night, he throws the fight. Because, for some reason, he seems to think that these fights are up to him. He thinks that he gets to decide who wins and who loses.”
He leans down now, lips hovering near your ear while his voice settles into a rather malicious hiss.
“But the only person that really loses…is me,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t win, then I lose a shit ton of money on him. And I don’t really think that’s fair…do you?”
You suck in a quiet breath right as Harry steps back to avoid a massive swing before landing his own blow just beneath the man’s jaw.
“So, I wondered. Wondered why the switch. Why he’d suddenly be willing to lose so much money and allow his ass to get kicked into his throat…for nothing.”
He leans back now, and your lashes flutter.
“And then I found him…with you.” He tsks almost teasingly while his head cocks to the side. “Seems my best fighter has found himself distracted. Pussy-whipped by a pretty face that serves him fucking pie. And he thinks that if he throws the fights…he can save you.”
A set of knuckles connect with Harry’s left cheek, sending him stumbling back while you suck in a sharp inhale and turn away.
“So…I want you to watch,” Jesse tells you, snaking an arm around your waist in order to keep you in your spot. “I want you to fucking see what you’ve done to him.”
Your features twist into a fearful grimace as you drag your eyes back to the ring. Watching as Harry swipes the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the blood before surging forward. He swings and it’s a miss. Arm flying over the other man’s shoulder before he’s shoved toward the rope.
He’s losing. A few more strikes to the face and you’re almost sure he’ll pass out.
And you don’t understand. Can’t comprehend any of this. Why Jesse brought you here, why Harry does this to himself, and why you’re somehow a part of it.
They lied. They both did. Harry looked you in the eye and told you he didn’t know Jesse. Even when he knew about…all of this.
Jesse being involved in some sort of illegal fight club doesn’t surprise you. Perhaps it should, and yet, it might be the least surprising thing you’ve learned so far.
But Jesse being Harry’s sponsor…being the one who pays him to do this to himself, who gambles on Harry’s very life…
Another strike is laid to his jaw, forcing Harry’s head to snap to the side.
And he sees you.
You watch the realization pass over his face in real time. The way his eyes widen and his lips part.
He stumbles back from the blow, catching himself on the ropes before Jesse tightens his hold on your hips…and Harry looks over.
The rage that settles into the lines and details of his features is evident. The way his teeth grit together, the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin, the way his fingers flex by his side.
He must understand why you’re here now and he channels this understanding and rage into his next hit.
He spins to the side, flings his arms around his opponent’s waist, and yanks him down. Throwing him so hard to the floor, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t break his spine right down the middle.
Half of the crowd cheers while the other half yells in disappointment.
But Jesse merely smirks.
And you realize that this is what he wanted. To use you as a tool in his game. A pawn for his pleasure until Harry’s hand was forced.
Harry rears back only to raise his fist into the air. Over and over, he lands his knuckles to the man’s face. Hit after hit after hit until there’s blood everywhere. Dripping from his knuckles, the man’s nose, his mouth.
He doesn’t stop. Even long after he should, and the man has gone limp. He goes and goes and goes until the referee has to physically step into the ring and drag him back.
And the fight is declared over.
They grab Harry’s wrist and sling it into the air, raising his arm in victory while the room hollers their support.
Your heart is racing inside your chest, going far too fast, and you feel a rush of blood to your head. Your knees are shaking, and your hands feel clammy, and you can’t breathe and why won’t that ringing in your ear stop?
“This is what he’s good at,” Jesse murmurs to you now, lips ghosting down the shell of your ear. “This is all he’s good for. And he fucking knows it.”
The room begins to disperse while Harry is led out of the ring and into the shadows on the far side of the building.
Your eyes and your heart go with him.
“So, you’re gonna do what you do best,” Jesse continues. “You’re gonna remind him why he has to fucking win. Because if he throws one more goddamn fight…I’ll fucking kill him myself.”
With that, he releases you, and turns around. Disappearing into the crowd before you can stop him.
You stand there, in the middle of this extravagant room, and you stare at the ring. And the blood stains on the mat. And the shadows that dance across the floor from the chandelier on the ceiling. The collection of empty glasses and empty promises that are scattered about the vast space.
Then, your feet are pulling you toward the door Harry disappeared into. Taking you to him, despite everything else. Because even after all of this, you want to help him. To make sure that he’s okay, and…and fix him. Somehow.
The door leads to a hallway that leads to what you can only assume is a locker room. It’s empty when you arrive, although you aren’t too surprised. The other fighter was taken to the opposite end of the building, and the people who led Harry away don’t seem to be around.
You hesitate for only a moment, attempting to decipher if you truly feel safe being alone with him after everything you’ve seen in the past 24 hours.
But the answer is obvious.
So, with a deep breath, you brave a step inside.
The shower is running. Steam already beginning to dance through the air as you pass by the collection of lockers and benches. Looking for any sign of him. Your stranger who perhaps isn’t so strange anymore.
You see his clothes tossed toward the floor. See a trail of scarlet streaks leading you further into the room and toward the showers just around the corner.
And you don’t hesitate now as you step past the wall in order to see him.
He’s standing beneath the stream of water, one hand braced against the wall as he stares down at the floor. Watching the blood disappear down the drain.
And he’s…beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him – all of him – and you feel your breath hitch as you step closer. Allowing your eyes to travel along his tall, tensed frame. From his curls to his thighs and everything in between.
“Harry?”
Your voice snaps his head up, and he turns. Instantly pushing off the wall in order to fully face you.
“Cherry, you can’t be here,” he breathes, and it’s almost lost beneath the heavy stream of water. “Can’t be in here, it’s not safe—”
But you’re already moving closer, toeing off your shoes and tossing your jacket aside before stepping inside the showers.
His lashes flutter, the muscles in his stomaching quivering as he leans back. “Cher, I mean it. You can’t…I can’t let you see me like this.”
You step up to him. Ignoring his protests and the water pouring from the ceiling, you step up, you put your arms around his shoulders…and you hold him.
At first, he goes still. Deathly still, almost bracing himself from your touch. Afraid of what it means.
Then, he settles. Understands that you only want to help, and slumps into your embrace while his face buries into your neck.
You reach up and run your palm down his head. Carding your fingers through the wet curls before squeezing the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”
He takes in a sharp inhale, arms snaking around your middle. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. And his voice breaks like the cracks of a sidewalk.
You merely hold him tighter. “But I am.”
And there’s so much to say. So much to understand and question, but right now, he just needs you to hold him. To let him know that it’s okay – that he’s okay.
That you’re not going anywhere.
You stand there for what feels like hours. Until your clothes become soaked, and your fingers begin to prune. But you keep your grip on him tight. Offering nothing more than soft murmurs of, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
He’s angry. So very angry, and you can feel it in the way his muscles twitch beneath your hands. Can hear it in the shallow breaths he takes and the clenching of his jaw.
He’s trying to keep himself together. For you. But he’s moments away from slipping, and you can only hope you’ll be able to bring him back.
“Harry?” you whisper, scratching your nails down his bare shoulder.
His head shakes. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”
“Har—”
“No.” He leans back, lip curled up into a snarl. “No, I can’t…I fucking can’t—”
“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrists to keep him close. “Okay, I understand—”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says for the third time. “You aren’t supposed to be here, and I can’t fucking believe he brought you.”
“I know. I know, but I’m okay. It’s okay, I promise—”
“What did he say?” His eyes flick between yours. “What did he say to you?”
You feel your insides twist as you squeeze his hands. Taking a moment to find the right words. “He…he wanted me to see what you really do. And…to tell you that you have to win.”
His brows stitch together. “What else?”
“Nothing,” you lie. “Just…just that.”
And maybe he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he knows there was more to Jesse’s threat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s tugging himself out of your grasp and turning toward the wall before you can argue. Sending his knuckles straight into the tile until it cracks.
You gasp, quickly surging forward to pull on his arm in protest. “Harry—”
Surprisingly, he allows you to yank him away, but he doesn’t look at you. He keeps his venomous glare on the drain, chest heaving with uneven breaths.
But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you guide him back to you, and lift his hands. Studying the torn skin of his knuckles closely with a sigh. “Harry…”
The wounded waver in your voice makes his expression soften, and he allows his shoulders to roll back. Releasing a bit of his rage. “It’s okay. M’okay, Cher—”
“No,” you argue softly. “No, you’re…”
You can’t find the words. Can’t find the right thing to say that explains this anguish in your heart. That lives within your chest.
So, instead, you bring his ruined hands to your lips, and you hold them there. Kissing the stained, battered skin while he sucks in a quiet breath.
And you don’t care. About any of it. About the fights, or the lies, or the threats. You don’t care what he really does or who he really is.
You just want him to be happy. To be safe. No matter what that looks like. No matter what you have to do to make that a reality.
You want to kiss away his scars, kiss away his pain. Take it and make it your own. Carry the weight he’s been trying to carry all by himself.
You don’t want him to be alone. You want to keep him, you want…
He watches you. Keeps his eyes glued to nearly every inch of your face as you do this. And something changes for him. You aren’t sure what.
But he sets his anger free before slipping his fingers from yours in order to take hold of your face.
And he kisses you. Pulls you to him almost desperately before pressing his lips to your own.
It’s soft, and sweet, and so deliciously him. Gentle despite everything else you’ve seen from him today.
He steps forward, subtly pushing you back. Again and again until your back meets the wet, tile wall.
He holds you there almost hesitantly before straightening up and deepening the kiss. Slipping his tongue in beside yours and savoring everything you have to offer.
And you let him take whatever he’d like. Allow him to have all of you as his chest meets yours and he cages you there. Hungry kisses now moving for your neck.
His touch travels to your hips, nails curling into your shirt as though resisting the urge to grab hold. And you smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Breath hitching at the way his thigh brushes against yours.
You drop one hand to his chest. Allow the tips of your fingers to dance along the swallows on his collarbone and toward the muscles in his abdomen. Careful to mind his stitching and new cuts.
And he seems to remember now that he’s completely bare to you, his mouth falling still against your wet skin as he steadies himself.
Quickly, you stop yourself from going any further, settling atop his stomach before nosing under his jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”
He says nothing, lips ghosting across your pulse point before pressing in deep.
“All of you,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
His lashes flutter shut while his arm loops around your back. Face burying in your shoulder as though to hide, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or enthralled.
Either way, you gingerly ask, “…may I touch you?”
There’s a quick pause before he nods. Only once, and then he returns to leaving an array of kisses to your throat. Nipping at the skin until you smile.
So, you continue your search, moving your hand toward his hips and down until you feel him.
And the moment your palm brushes against his cock, you both gasp. Straightening up almost attentively before settling back into the pleasure.
Your thumb finds his slit and he curses. Hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt, keeping you against the tile as if he’s worried you’ll disappear.
“Shit,” he mumbles, palm moving to your cheek. “Baby, you know you don’t have—”
“Shh.” You wrap your fingers around the tip before smoothing down. “I want to. Please?”
When he says nothing, you stop, and it forces an instant groan. His body seeming to have made the decision for him.
“Yes,” he finally says, nodding again but quicker. “Shit, yes, Cherry. Can do whatever you want. M’yours.”
And it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
You chase after his pleasure as though your life depends on it. And perhaps it does, but you certainly don’t mind. Because his grunts and pants are deliciously addictive. And you could spend the rest of your life touching him if it meant you’d get to hear just one more.
And maybe now you understand why he’s also so determined to do the same for you.
You run your hand up and down his cock, squeezing the tip before moving lower. Palming at his balls before dragging your touch back to the top.
He does his best not to rush you or overwhelm you. Resisting the urge to buck his hips closer in a desperate attempt for more.
Instead, he focuses his attention on you. A role he seems much more comfortable in.
He kisses you everywhere he can. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, your neck. Below your ear, along your collarbone, and down the dip in your shirt.
Then, his fingers slip down to your jeans. Absentmindedly fiddling with the button before he whispers, “Can I touch you, sweet girl? Wanna make you feel good, too.”
And who are you to deny him?
“Always,” you whisper back, releasing him for only a moment so he can wrangle the wet material down your legs.
Once he has, he straightens up, and runs his palm along the inside of your thigh. Indulging in the feel of your skin while you take him back in your hold.
And it’s strangely beautiful, this dance you do. The synchronicity of teasing touches and playful strokes that leave you both breathless.
Anytime you gently tighten your fist around him, he curls his finger inside your walls. And anytime you brush at his slit, he brushes at your clit.
You both share a smile when you realize, and Harry laughs before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Tugging your skin between his teeth to muffle his groan.
“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” he says. And it’s a faint thought, perhaps not meant for your ears. “Fucking need you, baby. Always.”
Your head drops back against the wall. Your body already growing sluggish under the weight of undeniable euphoria he inflicts.
“You always have me,” you tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want—”
“Shit.” He yanks your chest to his, mouth painting warm, wet kisses along your skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t, or I’ll never stop.”
You grin. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
You go faster. Finding a pace he seems to enjoy and zeroing in. You want him to cum – need him to cum. To offer him that release and that promise of more.
And it works. His tattoos rise and fall under the weight of his frantic gasps for air. He’s tipping over the edge, just needing a final push, and you want to get him there more than anything. Want to see what his face looks like when it’s overcome with pleasure. When he’s releasing into your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt. Want to feel him, know how his body moves when it’s spent.
“Please,” you murmur, almost anxiously as you work him closer. “Please, Har…let me feel you. Wanna feel you cum, please.”
He moves to squeeze the back of your neck before his hand disappears into your hair. Gently but pointedly tugging on your roots. “Baby—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can cum. Can cum for me—”
“Fuck.” He jolts forward, fingers slipping from your cunt. “So good to me, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you. Never deserved you—”
“Yes,” you nearly whine. “Of course you do, Har, please—”
He cums with a soft groan that bleeds into your throat. Woven between his kisses and flicks of his tongue to your skin, and it’s everything. The warmth, the feel, the implication. It covers your hand, and wrist, and even parts of your thighs.
And you watch it drip down toward the floor almost regretfully, but you’re mesmerized. Addicted to something you only just discovered, and desperate for more.
But he gives you no time to reminisce, instead moving his mouth to yours in order to show you exactly how much it meant to him.
“Knew you’d be good,” he remarks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before squeezing your waist. “Fucking knew, yeah?”
You release his cock as gently as you can before smoothing your palms up his chest and into his hair. Tugging on his curls in order to bring him closer. “Just for you.”
He smirks to himself before leaning back to study you. Glancing over your body as though in search of something. And the longer he looks, the angrier he appears to become.
Then, he mumbles, “He fucking touched you.”
Your heart wrenches. “…Har—”
“He touched you,” he says again, bitterly, and almost to himself. “He fucking put his hands on you and he made sure I saw. Wanted me to see, and now…now I can’t see anything else.”
You don’t think you’ve ever felt a panic like this. “Harry, please—”
He crouches down, large hands curling around your thighs and pulling them as far apart as they’ll go. Which, admittedly, isn’t very far because of the jeans still pooled around your ankles. But he doesn’t mind, instead staring at your legs rather thoughtfully.
Finally, he looks up.
“I need to wash him away,” he whispers, and your stomach leaps into your throat.
“What?”
“I need to wash him away,” he repeats softly, moving closer to ghost his lips along your hip. “Need to erase him. Need to clean him off you.”
Your fingers twitch by your side, and you aren’t even sure what to say. Because the look in his eye is unrelenting, and you can see how badly he wants this.
“Okay,” you exhale. “Okay, erase him. Make me yours again.”
And this is all he needs to hear, wasting no more time before smoothing his lips and his hands along your thighs and waist. Repainting every inch of you with his touch. Washing away the metaphorical marks Jesse left when he held you and replacing them with his own.
Even if it’s not inherently sexual, it’s the most erotic and wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. The way he feasts on your flesh like a man on a mission. Nipping and licking at you just to make you whimper. He’s nowhere near your clit and it doesn’t even matter because he’s so divine.
The heat of his mouth on your cool, wet skin. The way he gingerly kneads at your ass in an attempt to comfort you. Tenderly pulling you closer as though you’re somehow still too far away.
“I’m sorry, Cherry,” you hear him sigh, and it makes your insides tighten. “M’so fucking sorry for doing this to you. For bringing you into this.”
Your expression drops while your head shakes. “You didn’t. You didn’t, I asked. I asked to be a part of you, and I don’t regret that.”
But it’s like he can’t hear you over the sound of his shame. Instead kissing you softer as if to apologize. “It’s my fault. Should have told you the moment I saw him. Should have taken you with me. Shouldn’t have left you with him when I fucking knew—”
“Hey.” You reach down and take hold of his hair. Yanking his attention to you. “None of this could ever be your fault. Do you understand?”
He seems to ignore this as well, nudging his nose against your hip with a crestfallen expression that makes you want to scream.
So, you tug harder, forcing his head back and his eyes on yours. “This is who Jesse has always been. You didn’t change that, and you never will. And I know that. I know him. I know his heart and I know what he’d do to hurt me.”
His lips part, as if going to speak, but you merely tighten your grip in an unspoken order to remain silent.
“And I know you,” you continue. “I know that this is who you are. All of this. The fighting and the bets and the torture you put yourself through. And I know that you would never hurt me. That you have always done your best to protect me, even if I didn’t know what I was being protected from.”
His hands begin to drop down your legs and toward the floor, an act of complete submission.
“This is not your fault,” you repeat earnestly. “You are not responsible for Jesse’s intentions, and you’re certainly not reasonable for mine. And I need you to know that. Okay? You have to know that. Because I have never felt safer than I do with you.”
His features remain unchanged, and you wonder if he heard anything that you said at all. If he understood and internalized your instance. If he’ll believe it.
And then—
“I love you.”
You feel your pulse skip inside your chest as you suck in a quiet breath. “What?”
“I love you, Cherry.” He says it again without pause, without a moment’s hesitation. Proving that it wasn’t a mistake or a trick of the mind. He really said it. And he meant to. “And m’so fucking sorry it took him for me to realize it.”
You aren’t sure what to do. What to say or…what to think, but he’s already shaking his head and offering you a small smile before you can decide.
“I don’t want you to say it,” he says quickly and quietly. Slipping your hand from his hair in order to press his lips into your palm. “I just want you to know. And I wish I could have done it differently, but…I do, I love you. And I will do everything I can to prove that to you.”
You want to tell him that he already has. Want to tell him a lot of things that maybe you shouldn’t, but he doesn’t give you the chance.
He merely kisses your hand before moving back to your thighs. Looking for your permission to continue.
Breathlessly, you give it to him.
With a soft grin and great care, he extends his tongue and slowly drags it up your clit. He’s not rushing this time. He’s enjoying it. Allowing himself to indulge in your taste and your feel as you slump against the tile and let him.
He leaves a trail of apologies and promises along your pussy. Kissing, sucking, and flicking until you squirm. And he’s so focused, so dedicated to your orgasm. To making you understand how badly he needs you.
And you do understand. More than you’ve ever understood anything else.
“Love to see you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment, now running the tip of his finger between your folds and down. Taunting you with the intrusion yet not giving it to you. “Love to see this pretty pussy take me.”
You whine pitifully before he finally pushes in. Allowing your walls to beckon him closer until he hums.
“Can’t wait to see you take my cock,” he muses, thrusting the digit once or twice before bringing a second into play. “Gonna watch you stretch for me. Gonna just sit and watch this sweet, little hole take me in. Get me nice and warm. Till I’m soaking in you. Fucking drenched—”
“Harry,” you whine, overcome by a rather euphoric rush that makes him smirk. “Harry, please—”
“What, sweet girl? You like the sound of that?” He ignores your cries and flicks his tongue against your clit. “S’okay. I do, too. Think about it more than I should. Think about you and this tasty little cunt till I’m fucking my fist in the shower.”
The lewd image that’s painted in your head makes your toes curl, and you imagine you’d give anything to watch.
“But it’s not nearly as good as when you do it,” he says coyly. “Won’t ever be able to picture anything else but your sweet, little hand wrapped around my cock. Making me cum like a good girl.”
He adds a third finger, and your vision goes hazy.
“And this,” he breathes, fucking into you a bit faster. Until the sound of your arousal bounces between the walls. “Replay this in my head every goddamn day. The way you sound when you take my fingers, take my tongue. S’fucking beautiful, Cher. The best thing I’ve ever heard.”
You believe him.
“Wanna listen to you forever.” He laps at you like he’s dying of thirst. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you. Wanna fucking hold you and never let you go. Never let anything hurt you. You’re the only good thing in my life, sweet girl. Need you to know.”
You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from the pleasure or his admittance, but they fall from your cheeks almost mercilessly. And you can’t even wipe them away because, in some strange sort of way, you enjoy it. This pain and this angst that comes with the man on his knees before you.
“You’re mine, yeah?” he asks next. But the lustful undertone is gone. He’s pleading with you now. Begging you. “Not his, but mine. Always mine.”
Your agreeance comes before you can question it. “Yes…yes, I’m yours. Yours, I promise—”
He groans into your cunt like he’s never been happier. And the reverberation down your thighs and across your clit nearly ruins you. “Say it again. Say it again, baby, please—”
“I’m yours. Just yours, Harry. Not his. Never…never his—”
“Fuck.” He pulls on your thigh in order to bury his mouth into your pussy. And you almost wonder if he’s actively trying to suffocate himself. “Again. Again, Cherry—”
“Yours.” The word drips from your tongue like honey from a honeycomb. “Just yours. Don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”
His entire face is nuzzled between your legs, and it almost kills you. Because he’s so beautiful. You’ve never seen or felt something so ethereal, and you can’t look away. Even when your eyes are desperate to fall shut, you force your attention on him. Watching as he mouths at your clit and drives in his fingers until it hits you.
You nearly collapse onto the floor, but he refuses to let you. Keeping you upright before you can go slipping down the wall and cementing you to his tongue in order to drag you through to the other side.
“Mine,” you vaguely hear him hum, and your heart flutters. “Always mine.”
When he’s sure you’ve caught your breath, he straightens back up, and takes you in his arms. Kissing you and holding you and keeping you safe. Making sure you understand that he wants more than your orgasms. He wants you. Even without the explicit words, you know his true intentions. Know where his heart truly lies, and you settle there beside it.
Moments pass before either of you speak again. Instead listening to the sound of the running water hitting the floor.
And you’re afraid to be the first to break this tranquility. Because you know once you do, you might not find it again. Jesse’s threat still lingers rather prominently in the forefront of your mind. And you’re terrified that every time you look at Harry…you’ll remember.
“Cherry?” he whispers minutes later, and your pulse jumps.
You bury your face in his neck, bracing yourself from whatever he might say next. “Harry.”
He nuzzles his cheek against the crown of your head and sighs. And you can feel the heaviness of the breath leave his body. “I don’t know what to do.”
The vulnerability makes your throat run dry, and you subsequently tighten your arms around his middle. “Don’t have to do anything.”
“Cherry—”
“No, just…we’re okay,” you insist. “It’s okay. You just…you’ll win. You’ll keep fighting and you’ll win, and we’ll be okay. And I won’t have to lose you.”
A beat. “But what if I lose you?”
“You won’t. Never.”
“But he knows, Cher,” he murmurs. “He knows, and he’ll use you to hurt me. He’ll drag you into this as many times as he fucking wants, and he’ll use you. And I can’t let him – I won’t let him.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t scare me, Har—”
“But he fucking scares me.” His volume rises until it can carry over the shower walls. “All right? He terrifies me. Because now he has the one thing I can’t fucking…”
Your eyelids flutter before you take hold of his hand.
“And he wants to play this stupid fucking game, and I won’t let him,” Harry continues. “I won’t let him use you or threaten you, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, but you’re the one with all the cards. Right? He’s shown his hand. He’s shown how desperate he is. He can’t do anything to me if he really wants you to listen—”
“You don’t know him like this,” he nearly scoffs. “You don’t know what he’s willing to do—”
“Harry—”
“I can’t…I can’t,” he seethes. “I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win.”
He’s unrelenting. Unwavering in this insistence and you feel as though your insides are being twisted around a knife.
All he has to do is win. All he has to do is let Jesse believe he’s still in charge. And he’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.
“Harry,” you try again. Softer this time, hoping to reach him. “We’re gonna be fine. Okay? It’s you and me. We’ll be all right. We have to be.”
His expression instantly drops before he dips down and lays his forehead to yours.
He says nothing else. Offers no more ideas or excuses. He simply exists in this belief and the serenity it provides.
Even if he knows it’s not strong enough to stand on.
“Okay,” he finally mumbles. “You and me.”
And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Because for the first time all night, you see the way out. You see a future where he can be who he is, and you can be who you are, and it can still be all right. Where you can be together and be free of any threats and complications and just exist in this little world you’ve created.
A world outside of the diner and the backseat of his car. A world where he offers you more than his orgasms but his secrets, too. His life. And you need that. You need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.
He leads you out of the shower not much later, digging through his things before offering you his hoodie and sweats to wear home.
And there’s something so intimate about wearing his clothes. The way the tattered fabric feels against your skin. The way it smells like his cologne and the shampoo he must use. The way it fits your frame as if it was always meant to, keeping you warm despite the frigid air that greets you when you step outside.
You offer to drive him home, but he refuses. Insisting that it’s better if you don’t know where he lives, at least for right now. And you don’t have it in you to argue.
He makes you promise to lock your door the moment you get inside the car, and to lock your apartment door the moment it’s closed. You vow to do both before dragging him closer for a kiss.
And he gives it to you. He gives you five kisses, in fact. One on the forehead, one on each cheek, one on the nose, and finally…one on your lips.
When he lets you go, you feel empty. Lost. As though a part of you is missing, and it aches the entire way home.
In fact, it aches for the next two days until you can finally see him again. And you busy about your shift, watching the clock like a hawk until midnight finally strikes, and you fly through the kitchen doors. Ready to see him and fill this gap in your chest.
But for the second time this week…booth 505 is empty.
Instantly, the blood drains from your face. All the way down to your toes, and almost feel faint as your shaky legs carry you to his table.
However, the moment you’re close enough, you catch something just out of your peripheral, tucked just beneath the sugar dispenser. Something that most certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago.
A note.
With furrowed brows, you slip the folded napkin free and bring it closer. Straightening it out until you can make out the haphazard message scrawled across in black ink.
Meet me at the station after your shift.
Don’t tell Owen.
H.
Next Part:
~ Uppercut*
Previous Part:
~ Whiplash*
~ Full Knockout Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
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x : THE JOKER AND THE QUEEN :*+ﾟ
in which: you are the best thing to ever to childe, but what will happen when you find out the truth about his profession?
warnings: 4k wc, fluff to angst, ambiguous ending huehue, childe is a whipped loser in love, set in canon, reader has undescribed trauma with fatui (ooo), reader is not referred to with pronouns or a gender but there is a mention of 'queen' (it's up to you how you see it), mentions of violence, childe being referred to as 'ajax', argument, both reader and childe cry, aether and paimon appearance!
a/n: this one might hurt. apologies. (girl u know i want ur love...)
The sun is radiant gold when Childe walks down his peaceful, routine path, away from the bustling commerce centre and towards a peculiar place that he’s called home in Liyue. There are still a million tasks yet to be completed, but for now, his feet take him to the solitude that waits for him at the end of day.
When Childe arrives at the manor that is his residence in this foreign city, there’s a lifeless kind of calm, the rustling of leaves and flowing stream are the only things to welcome him, but he knows better. Doesn’t need to confirm it when his feet naturally take him upstairs, winding through corridors and towards the balcony that overlooks the horizon.
The view is very picturesque, overlooking the grandiose Liyue mountains that are decorated with incomparable flora and fauna, but you are there, and he can’t bring himself to look anywhere else.
You are the best reprieve for his tiring days, and although he will be returning to the Northland Bank to try and solve some of his troubles, the majority of them can be quelled by your presence alone.
“My darling,” the words slip past his lips without any trouble, and the relief he feels when you turn around and smile at him is insurmountable. Suddenly his hardships dissipate, his lungs are cleared, and his limbs don’t feel as heavy anymore (he can’t think of many people who grin up at him like you do. He hopes you never stop smiling at him like that).
Still, he walks to stand in front of you, and collapses to the floor, resting on his knees by your feet like a faithful jester to his queen. His armour drops and Childe becomes nothing but a man in love before you because there is nothing more human than loving someone more than yourself.
“Why so exhausted, Ajax?” You ask.
“The days are bothersome, my love,” he murmurs quietly, slightly muffled, but he then turns his head to look up at you, arms now hugging your calves. “But coming home to you make them infinitely better.”
“Any good home will bring you comfort,” you deflect, but your words reminds him of a distant, golden memory back in Snezhnaya. The unforgiving, snowy plains had always been his home, the frost that clung to dead tree branches, and the footsteps that he and his siblings left behind in the blankets would were memories of easier times, but here, sitting by you with a chin on your knees, is a memoir of his favourite home.
The sensation of your hand running through his orange locks take him out of his daydreams, and he melts right into your touch, blood-stained hands completely and wholly attached to you. He commits you to memory, savours the feeling of your warmth against his so he can feel it even whilst he’s away from you.
Can a home be a person?
He dares to close his eyes. Here, he is safe. Here, he can rest peacefully.
“How was your day?” Asks Childe, stimulating pointless conversation so that he could talk to you and hear your voice that will power him through the tedious night to come.
You begin to talk about the things you had to do today, about the customers you had to deal with, about the errands you still need to run, and all the pressing orders you needed to attend to- hearing it all places an aching weight on his chest. If Childe could have things his way, you wouldn’t need to work at all. You would live life peacefully by his side, without a day of stress as you roam around Liyue Harbour or anywhere else you would want to go, with him holding your arm (would you return to Snezhnaya with him?).
Alas, life is not so easy nor carefree, but you make it significantly better.
“How pretty is the sunset,” you comment. “Look.”
He almost doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to put any space between the two of you because looking at the sunset means turning around to face the rays that warm his back, but it’s you who asked him, so Childe turns around and observes the gorgeous blend of colours. He then decides that it’s nothing compared to your beauty.
“Yes, yes, splendid,” the orange-haired agrees, promptly turning back around to look up at you, with a sickening amount of love evident in his eyes.
“You didn’t even look properly.”
“I’m looking at something much more important right now.”
You shy away at your lover’s blatancy, pushing his face to the side to break his gaze. “Such unabashed flattery, do you have no shame?”
“None! None at all!”
You sigh, a smile creeping at the corners of your lips, timidity teasing Childe as he aches to see more. Reaching for your hands, he intertwines his around them, feeling light as he basks in the softness of your touch that starkly contrast the roughness of his hardened palms.
His gentle action causes your bracelets to jingle, pure gold and the finest gems of Liyue tinkering quietly against each other. They are gifts from him, he knows because he only buys the best for you.
“Will you be staying tonight?” You ask.
His gaze sadly falls to the ground as a regretful, ‘no, I won’t be’ slips past his lips. Tonight, instead of being in your company and resting beside you under the gentle beams of the moonlight, his dedicated Fatui subordinates will be with him instead. The blood on his hands will accumulate and pool by his feet as outstanding debts and scores will be settled, signed with fear and horror as the silence of Liyue sees an unspeakable monster.
Then, the monster will come crawling to you, fatigued and dirtied with an unrestrained desire to be by your side for as long as time will allow.
“That’s a shame,” you mutter and Childe winces at the disappointment in your tone. “You work too hard, you know?”
“It’s just what I need to do,” murmurs the orange-haired, “wish I could spend more time with you, though.”
“It’s alright, as long as I get to see you, I’m happy.”
He rests his cheek on your knee once more, eyes drooping close. Frighteningly quick, the fatigue he feels from all of his laborious duties catch up to him, latching onto him like a parasite. A nap wouldn’t hurt,
Nothing can take you away from him, not without a fight. He will bear his teeth, slash his swords until the blades dull, until his bow snaps in half, and until all that’s left of him is a pulp that lies helplessly on the floor, the love pouring from his wounds. Childe only hopes that his last moments are spent in your embrace.
But what will become of this warrior when you’re his opponent? What if you are the one he fights against- what then?
When you wake up one, unassuming morning, you wake up alone. No Ajax to accompany you, the only indication that he was here being the breakfast he had prepared for you that sat atop the counter top. The warmth of the meal lingers, meaning that he must not have left that long ago, and you have to wonder how he knows you so well to guarantee that breakfast is still warm by the time you come down.
Retrieving a book from the main entrance’s bookshelf, you catch a glimpse of a large box sitting on the entrance table. There is a note beside it, addressed to ‘Traveller’ and signed with ‘Childe’- the name Ajax has supposedly taken up whilst here in Liyue; a merchant name of sorts, he claims.
You mentally note to listen extra carefully for any knocks at the door, but for now, the promise of a day of relaxation and no work relieves you. Being swamped up in all of your duties meant that you kept forgetting to tell Ajax that you were free for the day, but perhaps you’ll surprise him with a filling and hearty dinner. Work didn’t seem to be all that easy for him either, so you’re sure he’d appreciate the gesture.
What you weren’t prepared for, however, was discovering a secret that your lover had been hiding from you all this time- in the form of two travellers.
The anticipated knock on the door came near noon, and two voices from the other side are muffled by the heavy material of the entrance. “Childe said no one would be home, why would you knock?” A high-pitched voice berates.
“Because manners, Paimon!” A male voice retaliates, “even if no one was home, it’s nice to make sure. We shouldn’t barge in without warning.”
“Can you unlock the door yet? Paimon’s dying to know what inside looks like! This property looks so expensive, can you even how much Mora this place is worth! I bet the inside is even-”
The conversation is cut short when you open the door with a soft click, pulling it open slightly. What you’re greeted by, however, is a blond boy with a floating companion, who both wear similar expressions of shock.
“Uh, hello!” You greet with a small smile, feeling slightly awkward.
“Hello, is this Childe’s residence?” The floating one- who you assume is Paimon, asks.
“You’re at the right place.”
“But he told us no one would be home today!”
“He would be right normally, but I have the day off work. Are you two travellers?”
“Yeah, we are! And who are you?”
“My name’s Y/n, I’m Childe’s significant other.”
“Childe has a lover?” Paimon’s eyes widen even more if that was even possible. To be honest, this whole scenario was incredibly entertaining. “Since when!”
“We’ve been together for a while. Has he never mentioned me?”
“No! I didn’t even think he could have one with his line of work-”
“-Uhm, we’re kind of in a hurry, I apologise for cutting the conversation,” the blond boy apologises, giving his companion a look before glancing back at you, friendly smile and shining eyes to match his innocent demeanour. “We’re here to pick up something.”
“Ah yes, I did see it. It is rather big, though, could I trouble the two of you to help me bring it out?” You ask, feeling rather embarrassed to bother your guests, but you don’t feel confident to carry the package alone.
“No trouble at all,” he reassures.
“We can come in, right?” Paimon asks, voice lilting up an octave as mirth shines in her eyes.
“Yes, yes, no need to take off your shoes.” You open the door wider for the two, the floating one flying in first, immediately marvelling at the interior, admiration tangible whilst the blond is a little more reserved, thanking you first before coming in.
What an intriguing pair.
“My name is Aether, and that’s Paimon. I just realised we hadn’t introduced ourselves.”
“It’s lovely to meet the two of you. Do you do business with Childe often?” Your tongue almost strains at the mention of his business name, but if your boyfriend had appearances to keep, then you needed to try to uphold it too.
Paimon flies over to Aether, joining the conversation. “You could say that. Sometimes he causes more trouble than it’s worth!”
“That sounds like him,” you huff, an affectionate smile appearing on your face. “The package is right here, but like I said, it seems quite heavy.”
“Allow me,” Aether volunteers, stepping forward to carry the box by himself. He stumbles a little due to the weight, and you hold your hands out just in case.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
The blond merely huffs before shifting the box to one arm. “No need, we’re troubling you enough already.”
“I see. I apologise, if I had known what time you were coming I would have brewed some tea for you two, Liyue has a very fine selection,” you say, fiddling with your thumbs.
“Aww! Paimon would have loved to try some!”
“Thank you for the offer, I would have liked to try some too, but we are short for time,” Aether explains.
“Then just wait here, I’ll fetch a bag for you to keep on your travels.”
You leave the entrance room before either of them have the chance to reject your offer, and you’re back almost immediately. A new batch you ordered just came in yesterday, so it did not take long for you to try and figure out which one you would like to gift Childe’s… ‘client’.
“Here,” you hand it to Paimon, who hugs the bag closely to her body. “Travellers need to be at their top shape, right? Hopefully this is something that will rejuvenate you on your journey.”
“This is too kind,” Aether begins, “thank you. We’ll make sure to great care of it.”
“It’s fine! Anyone that is associated with Childe are welcomed here, so long as they’re a nice person that is,” you laugh.
“You can bet we’re the nicest of the bunch!” Paimon exclaims. “I doubt he meets many nice people being a Fatui Harbinger and all!”
A… what?
Sensing the sudden shift in your mood, Aether’s eyes widen and he tugs at the leg of his companion. “Uh, it was nice meeting you Y/n! Paimon and I will be off now, thank you for the package and tea!” The last statement is nothing but a blend of words toppled over each other as the two practically hurry out of the estate, door slamming behind them in their rush.
Their abrupt leave didn’t impact you much though, because what did Paimon mean when she said ‘Fatui Harbinger’? Was… Ajax hiding something from you? Or is he Childe? What is the use for a merchant name, anyways? Businessmen don’t usually have identities to keep, but how dire could it be in his industry? After all, second names are only used when wanting to protect yourself from harm, to keep people from knowing who they truly were… a code name for… an organisation like the Fatui to identify them by.
You feel sick, and your hand weakly snakes up to cover your mouth, the other gripping the edge of the table for some sense of stability in your crumbling world.
Memories come flooding back like a tidal wave, drowning you in the heaviness of the thoughts that clasp around your ankle like anchors. It’s hard to push them away, to ease your mind from the nauseating images that still haunt you to this day: the desperation of your family, the cries, the helpless feeling of being a mere pawn in the game of the Fatui.
(It hurts to think that you never escaped. After finally surviving through years of hardship, you’ve returned right into the hands of those who caused it, and the thought reminds you of how defeatable you always will be.
Ajax- Childe, has likely caused devastation similar to the one that wrecked your village years ago. He has blood on his hands, the same ones that have held you tightly against him and stroked your hair. You have kissed his lips- ones that command horrendous acts for others to see through. You love his heart, the same one that probably froze over in Snezhnaya years ago.
You are with someone who has inflicted pain and suffering onto others, and will continue to do so for years to come. But worst of all, you are with a liar, who now makes you question what is and isn’t true.)
Childe returns home at sunset, the rattling of his keys against wood causing fear to crawl down your spine.
“I’m home!” His cheery voice calls from the front door, and to his surprise, you are sitting on one of the more uncomfortable couches that is merely for decor rather than functionality. “My love, why are you sitting there? There are far more comfortable seats for you-”
“Welcome home, Childe.”
He pauses in his steps and feels the world stop momentarily. “Darling? What’s with the name?” The Harbinger tries to laugh, but really, you’re scaring him. Very much so. “Come on, you know you don’t need to call me that. Here, I brought back some food that I thought you would enjoy from-”
“When were you going to tell me?” You’re standing now, slowly stepping towards him as your clothes flow with your every movement. Childe has no time to admire though, not when you and this swirling premonition in his gut is frightening him.
“Tell you what?” The pit in his stomach already knows.
“Must you act a fool?”
“To what?” He continues because it’s his first instinct to lie. “Darling, please tell me what is troubling you.”
“Please don’t play dumb, I just need the truth, especially now out of all times, are you really a…” you plead, voice trailing off as you hold yourself back from shattering. “You’re not who I think you are, are you?”
“Why do you sound so sad? What happened?” He whispers, beginning to feel the back of his eyes burn as tears invade his eyes.
“A-are you really with the Fatui? A Harbinger, too?” The words fall from your mouth like anvils and suddenly the title that brought him pride and honour through the years dulls. His eyes widen, and the gulp of his throat is all you need to know.
“I love you,” large, blistered hands desperately reach for you, aching to hold you still because he’s terrified. What if you slip through his fingers and run? What if you go somewhere he can’t follow? “I love you-”
“Just give me the truth, Ajax. I practically know, I just need to hear it from you,” you choke. The call of his name causes him to cave, a hesitant ‘yes’ slipping past his lips, crushing you with the weight of the truth. You cry first and like dominoes, his tears follow.
“Don’t cry,” he hiccups through his own sobs, hands locking around your wrists like bracelets. “I hate it when you cry.”
“Childe-”
“It’s Ajax to you,” the Harbinger pleads, grip tightening in desperation.
“I don’t know what you are to me anymore!” You retaliate, “this whole time, you’ve been lying to me when you know about what happened. I’ve told you everything, and you still decide to keep this from me!” You stumble away from him with more force than necessary, bumping into a table nearby and causing the vase that adorns it to drop. A shrill crack echoes through the room, and instantaneously, he rushes to your aid, asking if you’re hurt as pieces of fina china lay on the floor, water pooling around his feet.
Mixed in the puddle, are the anxieties and worries that come fumbling out of his mouth. He then pretends like it doesn’t break his heart when you scramble away from him.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask, voice strained and quiet.
“If I had told you, would you have stayed, or would you have ran away?”
Your silence chokes him, filling up his airways with lead as he nervously awaits your answer. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have stayed.”
Childe’s expression glistens with sadness, so crystal clear that it makes his eyes gleam like diamonds deep from the Chasm. “I see.”
“-But I would have appreciated it hearing from you than someone else.”
“Then how did you found out?” He demands, forcing his tone to be soft.
“If I tell you you’ll go and hurt them,” you murmur. “I don’t want that to happen.”
With one look at you, it’s clear that you think Childe will hurt you too with the way you cower from him, as if he could ever lay a finger on you or even point a blade in your direction, but the vision hanging on his hip feels heavier than ever. It’s a haunting reminder of who he is, and what he is capable of.
You feel miles away, how on Teyvat is he going to pull you back?
“Who are you really?”
“I’m yours-”
“-I’m not in the mood for your flirtatious quips,” you snap, hugging yourself.
“But it’s true, I love you, Y/n, don’t you know?”
“No, no I don’t. I don’t know what else you’re lying about.”
“Oh come on,” he exasperatedly exclaims, “we’ve been together for so long, the day we met you met the real me, as Ajax, not Childe of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. What’s the big deal? Just because I follow the Tsaritsa doesn’t mean I’m not the same Ajax you know, Y/n, please.”
“It’s not only that you’re apart of the Fatui, Ajax- the world is grey, there are things I will never understand. I’m upset because you lied. Like you said, we’ve been together for so long, yet I’m only finding out about this now, so what else don’t I know?” Your voice breaks.
He takes a step forward, but you only take one back, maintaining the distance even though the Snezhnaya native wants nothing more than to just hold you, to secure his place by your side because what can he do without you?
“What else are you keeping from me? What can I trust about you anymore? You say your real name is Ajax, but how can I know that?”
Seeing you so upset, so glum, so devoid of the light that makes you you causes his heart to cease, his throat to dry, and sheer terror to flood through him.
Childe’s seen the face of death, multiple times before, yet he’s never been this scared in his whole life. He’s losing you, he can feel it, but what can he do about it? What can he say that could possibly bring you back? (What good is a jester without the throne he was sworn to entertain? You can’t desert him, he will perform a thousand tricks if it enamours you into staying, will sacrifice more of himself to you if it means you will remain here, safe and sound in his arms.)
You are the reason he returns home everyday, to make sure that you are healthy, happy, and most importantly, that you haven’t left him without a word. If he had to, he would have killed for you, fought anyone and everyone until all that remained of him was the warrior heart that beat for you. But he could have never preempted this, nothing could have ever prepared for him to be the reason that you were leaving.
“I need some space,” you murmur, “to think this all through. Give me some time.”
“What? No,” murmurs the orange-haired. “No, no, no, we can talk about this, right?”
“Talking won’t do anything, I need time alone.”
The idea of being away from you causes Childe to almost sink to his knees and succumb to the bones in his body that ache to beg at your feet to stay. The cry of your name is weak, but so very desperate as he looks at you through a blurry vision.
You’re walking towards the front door, each step you take is another one away from him, away from the paradise that he’s been gifted. There are many ways he can stop you right now, his options are far from limited and although they are physical, they are all very effective, but he surrenders instead. Drops his weapons as he lets you go.
“How long?” Is all that Childe asks.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, hand reaching for the door knob.
“No more than two weeks, please.” Childe doesn’t know if he can handle being away from you for even a day, let alone fourteen.
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll search all of Teyvat if that’s what it takes to bring you home,” he affirms, clearing through sobs just to get the words out. He doesn’t back down without a fight, that’s just who he is, so his next words are etched with certainty and clarity, hoping to pierce your defences with arrows of undying devotion. “That’s a promise.”
“I know.”
You shut the door behind you.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
apologies if there is incorrect lore + if anyone is mischaracterised LOL i have only been playing genshin for like a month.
@fallenssun for u :>
#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#ajax x reader#genshin x reader#childe x reader fluff#tartaglia x reader fluff#ajax x reader fluff#genshin x reader fluff#childe fic#tartaglia fic#ajax fic
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Bedside Manner
for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"
"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"
Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."
Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "
Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."
Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."
Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"
"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.
"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"
"The infection has spread."
Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"
Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."
Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."
"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"
Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."
Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"
Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."
"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."
"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."
Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."
Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.
"Well, you both care about me deeply."
Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."
Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."
Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.
"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."
Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."
Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."
Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."
It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.
"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.
The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.
Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.
"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.
"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.
Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.
Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.
"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"
Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."
Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.
Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.
"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.
"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.
Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."
Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"
Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."
***
#steddie#stranger things#wayne munson#modern au#wayne likes to play match maker but unlike dustin he is good at it#steve harrington#eddie munson#implied ronance#platonic stobin#nurse steve harrington#my writing#request game#steve x eddie#ficlet
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to hell and back l two
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter
summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!
Word Count: 8.7k
Smoke was coming off my jacket
and you didn’t seem to mind
I left a long trail of ashes and
you said, I like your style
California l Spring, 2023
Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.
You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.
“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”
Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.
Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety.
The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”
Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response.
You didn’t trust them.
Not quite yet.
Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”
You quickly wracked your brain.
“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”
Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly.
Fuck.
He had seen right through the bullshit threat.
“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”
You suddenly stopped.
It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.
You couldn’t even say it out loud.
Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.
You were going to be sick.
“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.
You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”
Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”
Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.
“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”
You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.
He did make a fair point.
Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off.
Maybe they really were good people.
But what if they weren’t?
What if it was just a trap?
You didn’t know what to fucking think.
All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.
You were afraid.
Alone.
Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?”
You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers.
How did it sound?
It sounded too fucking good to be true.
“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face.
“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”
You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.
Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.
Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?
“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”
“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”
“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”
“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted.
“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”
Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”
Mark held out his hand for the weapon.
Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.
“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”
Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack.
The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.
“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”
Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.
Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.
Hostile.
“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”
“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”
“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”
Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”
Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.
“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”
She whirled around and started leading the way.
Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”
He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.
Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.
It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good.
Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol.
You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home.
Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes.
You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality.
He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.
You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off.
The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you.
Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful.
“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”
The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes.
Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.
It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine.
Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”
Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing.
“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.
You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do?
Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.”
It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony.
Oh. You’re not in California.
The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you.
Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.
“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”
There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.
Fuck, there’s comfort in him.
Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.
At least, not completely.
Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again.
Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”
You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.
“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”
You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine.
However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.
Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”
You toss him a confused glance.
Do I mind if you what?
Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”
As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it.
Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe.
Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders.
Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”
Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.
He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”
A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in.
“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.
You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.
Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”
You blink at him, keeping a straight face.
“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud.
Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that?
Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”
You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down.
“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow.
Your head whips back around.
“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”
You snort and roll your eyes.
I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.
Still, you remain at his side.
The rest of the trek is silent.
Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.
The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky.
You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.
Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”
There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?
“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”
You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.
You said I could have my weapons on me.
Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”
Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do.
“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close.
The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night.
“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”
“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”
“What?”
He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”
“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”
Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.
You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it.
“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”
You force a small, tight nod of your head.
Okay.
The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run.
“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”
“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.
“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”
Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”
“Miller!”
A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.
It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing.
The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.
His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”
You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.
“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”
Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”
Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”
“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”
Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.
Hounds?
Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”
The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth.
You start to back away, but Joel stops you.
“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise.
You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash.
You breathe out in relief.
“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”
Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”
Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.
“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”
Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”
Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”
“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed.
“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”
Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin.
Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”
It’s too late.
Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain.
You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline.
Joel!
You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t.
Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp.
Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”
Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”
“Not today it ain’t.”
Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”
Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.
He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”
“That a threat?”
“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”
Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice.
“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”
The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”
“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”
“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”
Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.
Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”
“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”
Although he’s confused, Tommy nods.
“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.
You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning.
“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife.
Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”
You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head.
“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.
“No. She doesn’t talk.”
Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”
You don’t move a single muscle.
“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”
“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.
You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.
“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”
Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”
Your heart skips an anxious beat.
No, wait! Please don’t leave me.
Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.
“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”
Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.
You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too.
Finally, you nod your head.
“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea.
After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway.
“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”
“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”
“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”
“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”
Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing.
“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”
“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”
Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”
“And where is she gonna stay?”
“With me and Ellie, of course.”
Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”
Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”
“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”
“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”
Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”
“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”
“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”
“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”
Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up.
Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”
“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”
“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”
Slavers.
Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners.
He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive.
“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”
“I can handle it, Tommy.”
“For your sake, I really hope you can.”
“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”
“What ‘bout Ellie?”
“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”
Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”
“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on.
Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”
Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen.
You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up.
“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”
Home.
The word rinds oddly in your ears.
You stand up from the table.
“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”
Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”
Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?
You couldn’t remember.
Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”
You want me to open the door?
Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”
You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.
You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?
The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter.
“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway.
Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud.
Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”
Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.
“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.
You breath out shakily.
A fucking washing machine.
“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”
Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?
“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”
Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?
“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”
Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.
Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.
Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.
Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”
Deal.
He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.
Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”
Thank you.
Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it.
Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.”
Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy.
Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity.
You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt.
You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall.
You’re willing to let them.
Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out.
Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees.
Joel’s shower had been a quick one.
You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.
He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up.
His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.
Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”
You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.
Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”
You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.
Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”
After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.
“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich.
Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep..
Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”
You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.
“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”
You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down.
Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”
Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel.
He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.
You’d written down your name for him.
He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.
“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.
Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it.
“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”
Okay.
You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him.
Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice.
Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.
“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”
#to hell and back fic#to hell and back#joel miller series#joel miller story#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller hbo#joel miller comfort#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction
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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader
summary: While shooting a movie with the infamous Wanda Maximoff, you start to fall for her. The lines between reality and acting blur together as you enter into a publicity stunt relationship, and you try to save your heart from breaking.
content warnings: angst, fake relationship, but a happy ending! Also TW for religious trauma, specifically homophobia within the Mormon church.
word count: 6.8k+
masterlist
Original Request
comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡
Reality
The first time you lay eyes on Wanda Maximoff, you knew your life would never be the same. Her green eyes pierced through the chaotic atmosphere of the audition room, a group of people you assumed were her team surrounding her as she walked into the larger room off to the side, where the actual auditions were being held.
You watched her go until her silky auburn hair faded from view, the door shutting firmly behind her, and sucked in a large breath. It felt like the air was simultaneously lighter without her heady presence, and thicker at her absence. You made up your mind then and there to try your very best at this audition.
Deep down, you knew that the privilege of knowing Wanda Maximoff would be the insurmountable victory of your life, and you steeled yourself.
“Damn,” Someone said, and you frowned as the room erupted in nervous laughter. Looking around, some people seemed starstruck, while others looked absolutely terrified. You understood why, nobody had told you that one of the most famous actresses in the country would be showing up at the final round of auditions today, but you could understand the reasons behind their secrecy.
Mentally running over the lines you knew you’d forget the second you were in the presence of the most exquisite woman you’d ever seen, you manually slowed your heartbeat, breathing in slowly while you calmed your nerves.
You couldn’t fuck this up.
Someone called your name, and you stood, the movement feeling almost robotic. Blinking a few times, and shaking off the stubborn nerves that raced through your already sleep-deprived body, you smiled slightly at the people around you. They all offered small, encouraging smiles, but you could see the hunger behind their eyes. The need to succeed, to be better than everyone else in the room. The need to win.
Shivering again, you reminded yourself that although it was a competition, it didn’t matter if you didn’t get the role. As long as you tried your best, that was enough. Then you remembered the woman waiting on the other side of the door, and a fierce wave of something rushed through you.
Walking into the room, you kept your back straight, hoping to at least act like you were confident. That crumbled the moment you locked eyes with Wanda, the green of her irises imprinting themselves into your mind as you formed an awkward smile.
“Alright,” A mousy-looking man clapped his hands, the illustrious eyes that had sought yours now focused solely on him. You never wanted to kill a man as desperately as you did now. Instead, you turned your head, shaking the cobwebs of gay panic from your mind as you forced yourself to focus.
“We’re going to start with page twelve, scene two. A seat has been provided,” The man gestured towards the front of the room, and you glanced over. A single booth, about six feet long, was sitting innocently in a spotlight. It reminded you of your childhood, images of hot sticky Sundays clawing their way to the surface as you swallowed harshly.
Missing the glance Wanda sent your way, her brows furrowing slightly at the distant look in your eyes, you jerkily made your way toward the seat.
The words of a forgotten Sunday worship wormed their way towards your ears, murmuring things like ‘sinner’, ‘abomination’, and ‘unworthy’. The words suffocated you, visions of a church meeting hall flashing before you as you sat down on the familiar seat.
Your fingers grazed the fabric, and you realized that they must have acquired an actual seat from some random Mormon church, and you fought the bile that rose.
“I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself,” A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, clearing your mind instantly.
Looking up, your face flushing, you could only stare silently as Wanda sat beside you. Embarrassment welled up, knowing that the woman had probably witnessed you get lost in the past, but she gave no indication that she’d seen anything, holding out her hand.
“I’m Wanda,” She said, a genuine smile brightening her face. Her eyes searched yours, seemingly imploring you to take her hand, and you did.
You were happy that you didn’t stutter as you gave her your name, surprised when Wanda repeated it back to you, the syllables forming into something beautiful when she spoke.
“Be honest,” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with your hand still firmly grasped in hers. “How nervous are you?”
The faint scent of vanilla encircled you, a haze threatening to pull your focus away, but you remained steadfast. Not wanting to miss a single moment you had with the captivating enigma that was Wanda Maximoff.
“I accidentally bought myself two coffees this morning,” You confided, smiling slightly at Wanda’s confused expression. “I had forgotten I’d ordered the first one, so I waited in line again to order my latte, only to realize halfway through the second cup that I’d been so anxious I practically blacked out while ordering the first time around.”
Whatever reaction you’d been expecting, the tinkling laughter that erupted from the woman seated mere inches beside you was better than anything you could’ve imagined. Her eyes crinkled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, and you fought to urge to lower it, wanting to see her full face while she was in the throes of happiness.
“Alright ladies,” A voice rang out, shocking you out of the comfortable lull you’d found yourself in. “Are we ready to begin?”
The mousy man was now seated at a long table, three people seated on either side of him, their eyes locked on you and Wanda. You swallowed harshly, suddenly remembering that this was an audition, and you reluctantly removed your hand from Wanda’s.
Glancing over, Wanda nodded, her eyes still locked on yours. They were warm, as if to say, ‘Don’t rush, take your time,’ and you smiled.
You could totally do this.
—
“When did you know?” Wanda’s voice is frail, and you bite your lip.
“Know what?”
“That you’re…” She trailed off, her eyes distant, a lost look in them. They met yours, green eyes pleading with you to say the words she couldn’t.
“That I’m gay?” You make sure to make your tone extra sarcastic, sending a quick smile her way, and nudging your shoulder gently against hers. You leave it there, finding comfort in the warmth that shoots through your body at the minimal contact.
She lets out a breath of air, inhaling shakily as she quickly glances away from you. “Yes… that.”
“It’s not a dirty word, you know,” You say, tilting your head slightly, hoping to catch her eye. She refuses, fingers picking at the seat between you as her eyes remain locked somewhere in the distance.
Fighting the urge to sigh, you let your own eyes glaze over, a faraway look appearing in them as you breathe in deeply. It’s a weary sound, and you close your eyes briefly as you exhale, preparing your answer.
“I think I’ve always known,” You begin, resting a hand on the seat, your pinky centimeters from hers. Green eyes lock onto it, her breaths shortening further, her silence stretching on.
“The first time I realized that I was…” You search for the word, shaking your head slightly, “Different,” The word tastes like ash in your mouth, and you can’t help the slight wobble in your voice.
Clearing your throat, you continue, “I was in second grade, and for some reason, I really wanted the approval of my new teacher,” You glance awkwardly over towards Wanda, smirking, “I’ve always liked older women.”
Wanda’s fingers inch closer to yours, the tension palpable. You look away, needing to get the next words out, but knowing you wouldn’t be able to if you were staring into those all-knowing green eyes of hers.
“I went home that night, and I prayed,” The words get stuck in your throat, and you realize with rising horror that actual tears are making their way into your eyes. You push onwards, Wanda’s hand inching closer to yours.
“I prayed that I would wake up the next morning and be able to like boys the same way that I liked girls. I prayed and asked God why he would do this to me, why he would make me like this if he hated it so much.” Your voice breaks, a tear escaping down your cheek. “And it didn’t work.”
At those words, the dam finally breaks, and your shoulders heave with silent sobs as Wanda’s hand finally encircles your own. You can feel her other hand hesitantly rising, moving towards your shoulder before stopping, unsure if she should touch you or not.
Eventually, after a pathetic-sounding sniffle escapes you, her other hand wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in. You bury your head into her shoulder, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of her shirt as the lines between acting and reality blur together into one giant, jumbled mess.
“And, scene!” A voice calls out, and you force the tears back, manually slowing your breathing to gain some semblance of control over yourself. You tell yourself that you’re imagining the hesitant way that Wanda pulls away from you and blink in surprise when her hand remains on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles as you breathe deeply.
“That was…” The man can’t seem to get the words out, his eyes shining. “Phenomenal.”
His voice is breathy, filled with awe, and you can’t help the surprised look that takes over your face. Really, all it took was a minor mental breakdown and your acting was phenomenal? You should try that more often.
The rest of the members at the table seem to agree, and the mousy-looking man makes his way toward you and Wanda, a wide smile on his face.
“Congratulations!” He all but exclaims, and you feel disconnected from your body as he continues, “You’re hired!”
The man goes on to explain that Wanda will be playing the other main character, the Bishop’s wife, while you play the lead role in the movie. You know the character well, you’ve played her both in real life and now in auditions, but you can’t quite believe the words that are spewing rapidly from the man’s mouth.
You play a 19-year-old girl, living with her elderly Grandmother after her parents had kicked her out for coming out as a lesbian. Your character only attends church with her resolutely Mormon Grandmother because she is scared to lose the only person in her life who will still give her a home. The man explains that your character falls in love with the new Bishop’s young wife, having just moved from Utah to your state, as Wanda’s character navigates her new realization of her sexuality while also falling in love with your character.
It’s a beautiful story, one you’d read over and over again before deciding to audition. The themes of religious trauma, grief, and romance all swirled into one complicated story, but one detail, in particular, stood out in your disconnected brain.
Fuck.
Wanda’s character is the romantic interest of your character.
What are you supposed to do now?
—
The director, a brunette woman with a seemingly permanent calming aura, had instructed you and Wanda to get to know each other better during the two months before shooting. She’d said something about how actors who were friends in real life had better chemistry on screen, but you’d blacked out after the word ‘chemistry’ had fallen from her lips.
Wanda had laughed, seeing the slight flush appear on your face, her hands gentle as she guided you towards her car, “Seeing as we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well for the next few months, why don’t we start with a tour of my home?”
She’d persuaded you further with the promise of a home-cooked meal, and you simply couldn’t refuse. You were a recent college graduate, living in a shitty studio apartment you could barely afford, surviving off of the bare essentials. A tour of an actual house with an actual meal sounded like a pretty sweet deal to you.
Plus, Wanda would be there, so everything would be perfect.
The next two months were wonderful, the text messages between you two were constant and the weekends reserved solely for getting to know each other better. You quickly learned that Wanda absolutely loved cooking, but she adored gardening.
The two of you had started doing puzzles together, one particularly colorful one catching your eye as you went shopping with Wanda, and she’d insisted on buying it for you. So, it became a tradition. Every Saturday, excluding the ones when Wanda had prior plans seeing as she was a famous actress with events to attend, the two of you would share a bottle or two of wine and assemble a puzzle while conversation flowed like water between you.
The only thing you dreaded during these two months was Sundays. The director had asked you two to attend a Mormon church, stating it as research for the upcoming movie. You didn’t have the heart to explain why the mere thought of stepping foot inside a church again sent uncomfortable, conflicting tendrils of grief and self-loathing crawling up your spine, so you simply agreed.
Wanda knew. She somehow always knew when something was wrong. She’d helped you pick out an outfit, a modest dress with comfortable shoes, and in return, you’d helped her find a dress in her massive closet that actually fit the impossible Mormon standards.
You were silent during the car ride to the church, your eyes locked on the landscape moving quickly outside your window. Wanda didn’t have to ask if you were alright, she saw the distant look in your eyes and knew that you were trapped in memories, unable to escape.
A soft hand enveloped yours, fingers tight around your hands as you felt vanilla pierce the heavy weight of the scenes playing behind your eyes. Your brain cleared briefly, overwhelming gratitude welling up inside you at the gentle show of support, and your fingers squeezed back.
After that, you felt more present. Even when you walked through the doors, a false smile glued to your lips as you led the way towards a seat covered in that same scratchy fabric from the audition room, you didn’t sink beneath the waves of past memories threatening to drown you.
The fabric didn’t seem quite as scratchy now with Wanda beside you, her pinky mere inches from yours. You remembered the audition room, the memory overlapping with the past ones that strained to reach the surface of your thoughts. The new memory suffocated the old, your breaths coming easier while Wanda’s steady presence overcame your senses.
Someone began speaking at the podium, your body jolting as you realized it was a prayer. Wanda’s eyes were sharp, taking in everything, assessing everything. You showed her how to fold her arms, bowing your head slightly. The last thing you wanted was to stand out.
If you stood out from the rest, you would never be fully accepted. You couldn’t go through that again.
Wanda seemed to see the desperation in your eyes and copied your movements. Her green eyes didn’t close, watching you as your eyes stared blankly at the booth in front of you.
“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee…” You couldn’t hear the rest of the prayer, the familiar phrase ringing around your head until the cacophony of noise threatened to overwhelm you.
A pinky touched yours, Wanda’s body resting fully against you as you sat side-by-side in a little booth. The man was still speaking, your ears numb to his words, your senses locked into only one person.
Wanda.
Her finger wrapped around yours, an awkward version of a pinky promise, an act so juvenile yet innocent and pure. This memory overlapped with your past, multiple prayers you’d heard about ‘giving strength to those who stray’, and ‘loving everyone no matter what their sins may be’, being smothered by the simple touch of a pinky.
You longed for more.
The rest of the meeting passed quickly, your hands interlocked in the seat between you, hidden beneath the folds of your skirts. You were numb to the words spoken at the podium, having learned to block them out a long time ago. You let yourself remember, an unexplainable grief rising within you as you remembered what it felt like to truly believe in something, before the same people you’d once felt seemingly unconditional love from, turned on you with knowing eyes and quiet whispers.
All because you liked a girl.
Silent tears fell, your sniffles quiet from years of practice. Wanda’s fingers tightened, her eyes warm but not overwhelming. You let the memories wash over you, reliving them and then releasing them, letting comforting waves of vanilla envelop and smother them like a warm blanket. You finally smiled, right near the end of the meeting, your eyes no longer dull.
Wanda held your hand the entire time.
—
The rest of the cast was amazing, friendly faces surrounded you, and laughter never ending as you mingled before the first table read. There was an assortment of finger sandwiches on a table near the back of the room, and you didn’t stray far from it.
It’s not that you were hiding, per se, but rather surveying the room while you tried to control a slight panic rising within you. Yeah, scratch that, you were totally hiding.
“Hey,” Your eyes raise from the sandwich you’d been inspecting, meeting a familiar shade of green. You can’t help the comfortable smile that erupts on your face as Wanda makes her way over to you.
“Not a fan of mingling, I take it?”
“I just,” You gesture helplessly, noticing the lingering looks from some of the cast, probably wondering why Wanda was standing near you. “I don’t know anyone. And I feel really awkward.”
Wanda’s fingers interlock with yours, pulling your reluctant frame away from the table. “Well,” She reasons, walking towards a group of people, “Let’s introduce you then.”
—
You’re quite proud of yourself, having not stuttered over a single line of yours during the first table read. You could tell that some of your castmates were surprised that you were playing the lead character, as you weren’t a well-known name in the industry.
The cast was stacked with A-list actors, Wanda being one of them. In all honesty, you were terrified, but Wanda’s chair was next to yours, and her pinky never strayed far from your own, so it wasn’t all that bad.
Positioning her body until it was slightly facing yours, Wanda leaned in after the director announced a short break, the rest of the cast standing up to mingle, their voices chattering about the script.
“You did exceptionally well.” The words were whispered in your ear, meant for you and you alone. Something warm burned in your chest, and you smiled proudly as you tilted your face toward Wanda.
Your breath caught, her lips inches from yours. She didn’t make any moves to lean back, and you fought the urge to count her freckles as her soft breaths hit your face.
“A glowing review,” You managed, a smirk making its way onto your face at Wanda’s smile. “I’m flattered.”
Wanda laughed, finally leaning back as she did so, and you let out a sharp exhale. One of her hands gripped your forearm as she chuckled, one hand covering her mouth as she did so.
“You shouldn’t do that,” You said, blinking at the suddenness of your words.
Wanda tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t have to speak, her silent question stretching out in the silence between you two.
“I just mean, you cover your face when you laugh,” You gesture towards her, ducking your head as your mouth keeps talking. “You shouldn’t, you’re beautiful when you laugh.”
The statement feels awkward coming from your lips, the compliment suddenly sounding too flirty, too personal, just too much. But then, Wanda’s smiling again, her eyes sparkling as she practically beams at you, and your words don’t feel unnatural anymore.
“Well, I…” She doesn’t continue, her eyes searching yours as her eyes continue to sparkle at you.
“I never thought I’d see the day that Wanda Maximoff was rendered speechless,” The joke spills out, the silence threatening to turn uncomfortable as you stare at each other. You place a hand over your heart mockingly, “I’m truly honored to witness this momentous occasion.”
Wanda laughs, and this time her hands stay away from her face, your eyes eagerly taking in her expression. You were right, she is beautiful when she laughs.
“Alright, sweet talker,” She stands, still smiling widely at you as she pulls you from your seat. “Let's go mingle with our new friends.”
You socialize, words falling easily from your lips as you get to know the rest of your cast. Plenty of people congratulate you on landing the role, some offering encouraging words and others offering tips. You enjoy it all, auburn hair and sparkling eyes never leaving your sight for too long.
It’s not as awkward as before, not with Wanda by your side.
—
“Your agents are geniuses,” Angela, the woman playing your on-screen grandmother jokes, relaxing against the booth. Your fingers play with the scratchy fabric, standing behind the seat with Wanda leaning next to you.
You’ve been shooting the movie for a few weeks now, and this is one of the longer days. You’re shooting on the set of a reconstructed Mormon church, and you have to admit that the set designers did their research. The main hall is eerily similar to the one you remember growing up in.
There’s a multitude of extras milling about, the day long and exhausting for everyone, since the scenes you're shooting take place in a packed church meeting. You’ve finally gotten a break, and Wanda has come over to talk with you, as she usually did.
“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, and Angela laughs. It's a throaty sound, and your lips turn up of their own accord as she braces herself against the seat.
Someone shouts about the lighting, and you’re momentarily distracted while Angela wipes her eyes slightly. She waves off the young makeup artist, dabbing at the concealer beneath her eyes.
The extras give you and Wanda a wide berth, and you’re unsure if they were instructed to do so, or if they were just intimidated by the lead actresses of the movie. Either way, you’re grateful for the space.
“Don’t worry,” Angela says, leaning in and drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to play dumb with me, everyone knows that you two are dating as a publicity stunt.”
You and Wanda glance at each other briefly, shock evident on both your faces as Angela continues, “It’s a genius idea, truly. It's great for promoting the movie, and it gets people wondering if your on-screen chemistry is as good as your real-life chemistry.”
Real-life chemistry? What the fuck?
Wanda must be thinking the same thing, because her eyes are slightly wide as she stares at you. Then, they change slightly, a calculating look in them as a multitude of makeup artists swoop in, surrounding the two of you as they prepare you for the upcoming scene.
You catch Angela’s eye, and she pretends to zip her lips shut. Offering a wobbly smile, you walk almost robotically towards the front of the room as the director calls for places, your mind racing. Wanda brushes past you, her hand grazing your waist as she moves to sit behind the podium, where you’ll be standing for the next scene.
Taking a deep breath, you push all thoughts of Wanda and fake relationships and chemistry out of your mind. There will be plenty of time to panic later, now, you have to focus on the next scene and try not to mess up badly.
It’s utter chaos when they have to reset a scene with as many people as there are in the room, and you really want this day to be over with. Besides, there’s a bottle of vodka and an evening of overthinking waiting for you.
—
Your publicist, a woman named Annie, smiles encouragingly at you while you sit in shock.
“I mean, just think about it,” Another woman speaks, and you turn your wide eyes towards her. “It’s the perfect opportunity to sell this movie to the public, and the two of you are already good friends.”
At that, Wanda glances over at you.
You blink. It’s slightly unfair how regal she looks, sitting elegantly in her chair in this small, suffocating room. Your brain is already slightly frazzled from a long day of shooting, and you struggle to process the request of Wanda’s publicist.
“Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly,” Wanda interjects, sensing that you’re off-kilter at the moment. Her voice soothes you, and you remind yourself to breathe as she continues, “You want us to pretend to be in a relationship, as a publicity stunt?”
Well, when she puts it that way, it doesn’t seem so difficult. But then again, you’d agree with anything Wanda says, so maybe you’re biased.
“Exactly,” Annie says, Wanda’s publicist nodding. “This movie is already projected to hit the box office, and with this, there will be even more demographics watching. This pretend relationship will help build anticipation for the movie, especially since the whole internet ships you two already.”
Now that was a new piece of information, and by the look on Wanda’s face, she was also hearing this for the first time.
“Do they really,” Wanda’s voice is slightly faint, her posture slumping slightly as she leans back in her chair. She seems to process, her eyes unfocusing slightly, so you ask a question of your own.
“Which demographics are we talking about, exactly?”
Annie smiles, sharing a look with Wanda’s publicist. “The younger generation for sure, since you’re already starting to trend on popular social media apps, as well as the LBGTQ+ community. They’re always looking for a new queer couple to ship.”
You try not to bristle, wanting to remind Annie that you’re a part of that community, but before you can get the words out, Wanda interjects.
“Can we think about it?” Her words are soft, and when you glance over towards her, the green of her eyes doesn’t lock on yours like usual. Instead, they’re focused on her publicist, with a slightly firm look in them.
The woman concedes, and Wanda stands quickly. Before you’re able to get to your own feet, feeling slightly shaky as you do so, she’s already out the door.
—
After a few days of awkwardness, which you absolutely hate, you and Wanda agree that the publicity stunt is a smart move.
It’s awkward at first, especially since you’re overthinking every interaction you have with her. You shy away from her touch, suddenly questioning if she’s touching you for the publicity stunt or because she actually wants to.
After a couple of days of this, you’re in your trailer, watching some stupid reality show to try and get your mind off of the uncomfortable day you’d had on set when three light knocks sound at your door.
“I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV.” Wanda’s voice sounds through the door, and you curse. It’s not that you were avoiding her… that’s a lie. You were totally avoiding her, and your acting in scenes with her had taken a hit because of it.
“Just let me in, we need to talk,” There’s a pause, then, “Please?”
You can’t say no to that.
Turning the TV off, you make your way to the door and open it to reveal a very tired-looking Wanda. Her auburn hair seems slightly duller than usual, the sparkle in her green eyes no longer there.
“Um,” Wanda pushes past you, sitting on your couch as you shut the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”
The question feels awkward, and you know that you’re avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Wanda gives you a look, and you sigh.
Sitting down on the couch next to her, you leave plenty of space between your body and hers, and you try not to think about the way her pinky twitches at the distance.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Wanda asks, and you blink. You hadn’t expected her to be so straightforward, but it seemed that she had no more patience for hesitancy.
“I’m just,” You trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure where reality ends and this fake relationship begins. And I’m not sure about what’s real and what’s not.”
Wanda doesn’t say anything for a long while, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Instead, it feels heavy and filled with a multitude of unspoken feelings that you wish you had the bravery to share.
“So this,” Wanda reaches out her hand slowly, as if not to spook you. It stops, halfway between your body and hers, resting innocently on your couch. Her pinky stretches out further, and you let your hand slide along the cushion until your pinkies interlock.
You don’t imagine the relieved sigh that escapes Wanda’s lips.
“You’re not sure if this is real or not?” The question rings around your head, and you shake your head because no, you can’t tell.
“Let me tell you how I see it,” Wanda says, her voice soft. You look up, meeting those pretty green eyes for the first time all day. She smiles, and they crinkle at the edges. You’ve missed seeing that.
“When we’re alone, or on set, everything is real,” Her voice is firm, laced with honesty. “When we’re in public, it’s still real, just dramatized for the camera. Does that make sense?”
You nod, the pieces finally clicking together in your brain. You don’t say anything, and you don’t have to. All you do is squeeze Wanda’s fingers tighter and move closer to her on the couch.
Turning the TV back on, you rest against her, your head resting on her shoulder. When you glance up at her, the green in her eyes sparkles back at you. Something settles deep within you, and Wanda rests her cheek against the top of your head.
—
You stare blankly at the script in front of you. The pages flutter slightly as a gentle breeze sweeps through the actor’s tent. Sounds of chatter flow around you, but you remain unresponsive, the words on the page swimming off and distorting as you try not to panic.
A sinking feeling makes its way into your chest, the reality of the scene you’re about to shoot finally setting in.
You have to kiss Wanda Maximoff.
Sure, it’s an on-screen kiss, it’s not like it means anything. Right?
But there’s a small part of you that longs for it to be real. Some stupid part of you that you try to get rid of that wishes it meant something to her. Because it sure as hell means something to you.
But it won’t mean anything to her. It’s a fake kiss. One meant for the screen. You build your walls, surrounding your heart with impenetrable stone as a calm iciness envelops you.
It doesn’t mean anything.
—
Her lips are inches from yours, and you can’t stop looking at them. They’re plump, and slightly glistening from a light coating of lip gloss. There’s a red undertone, and you find yourself yearning to discover what she tastes like.
You hesitate.
“Cut.” The director calls, and you blink, stepping away from Wanda.
“Remember,” The director begins, and you focus all your attention on her, ignoring the concerned look Wanda is sending your way. “Your character wants this, she’s not hesitating. She’s been yearning for this for weeks now, and I need you to show that through the screen. I want to feel the tension, the desperation.”
She pins you with a look, a sort of knowing glint in her eye. “Understood?”
“Yep, got it.” You offer a smile, the fakeness of it making you cringe. Your makeup artists swoop in, touching up the smallest details possible, while you avoid eye contact with Wanda.
“Hey,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you glance at her. Her eyes are locked on yours, and you somehow can’t bring yourself to look away. She looks almost… sad.
“Are you alright?”
You mentally scoff, your walls crumbling slightly as the green of her eyes threatens to overtake you. “Yeah.”
The clipped tone of your voice rebuilds your walls, the stone solidifying once again. You turn away, walking towards the beginning spot of this scene, not seeing the confusion that overtakes Wanda’s expression.
A wave of sadness crashes through her, all the times that you’ve been pulling away from her running through her mind as she makes her way towards her own spot. She attempts to meet your eyes again, but you refuse.
She knows that this scene won't be successfully shot today.
“And, action.”
You look up, your character snapping into place quickly, your eyes dark and full of longing. Wanda is startled by the sudden change but snaps into her own character quickly as you walk slowly toward her.
“Don’t say things like that,” Your voice is low, your emotions swirling in the forefront of your mind.
“Things like what?”
“Things that sound a lot like love confessions,” You hear your voice break and want to cringe. It fits perfectly for your character, but you’re unused to sounding so weak.
“Why not?”
Your body is pressed against Wanda’s, her chest grazing yours with each shallow breath she takes. You almost believe that it’s real, just for a moment. You desperately wish it was.
Wanda’s eyes search yours, and you’re reminded that she’s playing a character. A character that’s falling madly in love with you, unconcerned about the repercussions. A character that couldn’t be further from reality.
You hesitate again, your body refusing to move your lips closer as your mind wars with itself.
Wanda sighs, and the director calls out again. You barely hear what she’s saying, your body practically propelling itself away from Wanda, focusing on rebuilding its walls as her hand twitches toward you.
“It’s alright, “ the director is saying, and you force yourself to focus on her. She’s smiling gently at you, her voice kind, “Everyone has off days, we’ll try again tomorrow. It's been a long week.”
Nodding jerkily at her, you wave off your team, choosing to return to your trailer instead of following them. You’ll deliver your costume later, or have someone come pick it up. But right now, you need to be alone.
Walking quickly, you practically sigh in relief when you reach your trailer. You’re quick to unlock it, pressing the door open urgently and twisting slightly to close it.
A hand stops you, delicate fingers wrapping around the door as you look up in shock. You hadn’t realized anyone was following you, but looking into those iridescent green eyes, you understand.
Wanda says your name, her voice holding a pleading edge to it, and you can’t bring yourself to deny her.
You open the door wider, silently giving her permission to enter. She brushes past you, fingers twitching but not touching you. She seems to want to touch you, and you try and push down the part of you that wants her to.
“Why are you…” She hesitates, not knowing what to say.
Raising your eyebrows, you resign yourself to having this conversation. You knew it was coming, but you find yourself inadequately prepared for it. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your small trailer, you simply stare at Wanda.
“Why is it so difficult to kiss me?” Wanda’s eyes are sad, and you want to cry. You hadn’t meant to make her fucking sad, and now she looks like a kicked puppy.
The tears that spring into your eyes are unexpected, and you blink furiously as they begin to spill down your cheeks. Wanda steps towards you, but you evade her, opening the door and gesturing for her to leave. You refuse to cry in front of her, not when your heart is seconds away from tearing in two.
“When I kiss you I want it to be real, I want it to mean something, Wanda.”
The door shuts firmly behind her, and you miss the understanding and longing that appears in her eyes. Wanda turns away, a single tear escaping her.
Of course it would mean something to her. It would mean everything.
—
It’s raining, and you want to cry and laugh at the same time.
Wanda had left you a voicemail. You’d stared at your screen while watching her contact picture pop up as she called you. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to hear her voice, so you let it ring.
What you hadn’t expected was the voicemail.
“I just… fuck, I don’t know what I want to say but it would mean something to me. I promise. I- you. I hate this. I hate this distance, I hate that I can’t help you and I hate that I’m falling in love with you.”
The message had ended pretty quickly after that confession. You’d heard a few muttered curse words, and then a dial tone that rang in your ear long after you lowered the phone.
You didn’t know what to do, so you grabbed a rain jacket and started walking. Hoping it will clear your head. Your feet had other plans it seemed, as you found yourself walking up the driveway of Wanda’s home.
It surprised you, as she lived at least fifteen minutes away by car. You barely remembered the walk there, having been trapped in your own mind as your body brought you towards the only thing you could think of. The person who had consumed your every waking thought, and invaded your dreams.
How fucking typical and cinematic it was, walking up her driveway in the pouring rain. You could see a few lights on, and you begin to prepare a speech. Something super lame and mushy about how much you like… fuck that. How much you love her.
Fuck. You loved her.
Of course you did. You’d gotten to know and love the woman behind the famous persona she’d created. The soft, caring woman who loved gardening and puzzles, who hummed along to songs as she cooked, and who looked at you with impossibly soft eyes.
You knock, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest.
Green eyes meet yours, and you recoil. They’re cold and dull, so unlike the usual sparkle that you’re used to, and you feel your walls build higher even as you plead with yourself to lower them.
Turning, you feel your feet start to walk away, your mind replaying that dead look in her eyes. Your heart fortifies itself, trying not to break as you make your way down the driveway. Tears blur your vision, your ears ringing with embarrassment as you try to remember the way back to your trailer.
“Wait, just… fuck. Wait.” A firm hand grips your forearm, and you spin in surprise.
There’s fire behind those green eyes, and you stand still. Wanda’s auburn hair is drenched, rain pelting down on the two of you, running down her perfect face as she blinks at you.
“I…” She can’t seem to get the words out, her eyes boring into yours.
Time stands still, the tension thick as you allow yourself to glance at her lips. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, threatening to escape. You let them.
“I love you.”
Wanda speaks at the same time, her words slightly faster than yours. Green eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a wave of immense relief sweep through you.
Rain continues to pour around you, but you barely notice. Within seconds, Wanda’s hands are cupping your face, your own grabbing desperately at her waist as your bodies draw together like magnets. Her lips find yours, and you feel something click into place as your lips slide together effortlessly.
It feels like coming home after a long day, the months of pining and uncertainty coming to a head as you melt at the feel of her lips against yours. Your shoulders relax, tension seeping out of you as you chuckle.
Pulling back, you stare at her, watching her eyes crinkle as she mirrors the wide smile on your face. She’s perfect, and you whisper one single thing before your lips find hers again, rain soaking the two of you as you embrace.
“This is real, I promise.”
---
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In Your Dreams
Steve has a good dream about Eddie. Eddie fights a blush as he is forced to sit and listen to Steve tell him all about it. Part one is SFW!
Part One • Part Two
***
Eddie startles when he hears someone knock on his window. He flails and clutches his chest. Outside, Steve smiles smugly and does his little wiggly finger wave. Eddie takes a deep breath before pushing the glass open so that he can talk through the dusty screen.
“Jesus Steve, I have trauma. You’re not allowed to scare me.”
“Sorry Eds. I did try your door first but I was ignored. Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you, darling.” He teases and then nods his head towards the front door. Steve starts walking back around the house.
When Eddie whips open the front door, Steve is jogging up the porch steps with a spring in his step. He’s wearing a sweater that Eddie always compliments him on. It's black, maybe the only black item of clothing that Steve owns. It’s tight and it just looks so mouth-wateringly good on his chest and arms… not that he’s expressed the mouth-watering part to Steve, he usually just says, ‘I like that sweater, man. It suits you.’
“You’re wearing the sweater.” Eddie pokes him in the chest.
“I know, your favorite.” Steve wiggles his eyebrows and pushes past him into the trailer towards Eddie’s room.
Eddie gets a whiff of cologne in his wake. Fuck. There go his chances of functioning normally around Steve this afternoon. He follows Steve down the hall in a daze.
When he enters Eddie’s room, Steve kicks off his shoes and launches himself forward onto the bed with a grunt. He wiggles around to get comfortable.
“Hi.” Steve says after he has settled and Eddie wants to punch a hole in the wall because he’s so goddamn cute. Eddie could write poetry about how it feels to have Steve drop by unannounced just wanting to spend time with him. Steve has done this a handful of times, laid across Eddie’s bed and made easy conversation while Eddie messes with his guitar or works on a project. Ed just feels so childishly giddy and warm every time it happens.
Steve points to the jacket Eddie had been painting on his desk. “What are you working on?”
Eddie turns and reaches for Wayne’s old denim jacket. Wayne’s been so precious about all of Eddie’s artwork since spring break. Eddie thinks his near-death experience really hit Wayne in ways he hadn’t expected it to. Now Wayne is asking to keep all the doodles that Eddie shows him like he’s cherishing everything deeply just in case Eddie suddenly disappears again. Eddie doesn’t mind, he thinks he owes Wayne for everything he put his old man through this year.
Wayne asked Eddie to paint on one of his favorite jackets. He had no specific requests so Eddie’s painting a landscape over the left shoulder. He hands Steve the photo he’s using as a reference.
“It’s a gift for my uncle. The inspiration was the background of that photo of him as a kid, except I’m painting it in color, obviously.” Eddie holds the jacket up so Steve can look between the reference and the jacket. It’s a wide valley with jagged mountains framing the tall grass.
“That’s so fucking sweet Eddie. You’re a sweetheart.” Steve hands the photo back and looks up at him with sparkling eyes. Eddie nearly blushes, he turns around before he can give Steve the satisfaction of seeing that.
“So, any particular reason you stopped by? Did you just want company?” Eddie lays the jacket back down carefully and sticks his paintbrushes in the mug of murky water placed beside them. Steve is quiet for a moment, so Eddie turns to see what sort of expression he’s wearing. He’s looking at Eddie with dark thoughtful eyes, chewing on his lip.
“Wanted to tell you about a dream I had.” He finally says and flips onto his back, cushioning his head with his hands.
“Uh oh, nightmare?” Eddie sits down beside Steve, leveling him with an empathetic frown. They’ve had a lot of conversations about nightmares. Steve admitted that it’s easier to talk to Eddie about them than anyone else. Steve feels a responsibility to appear strong around the rest of the party: unaffected.
“No, not a nightmare this time. This was a good dream.” The corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like it’s a joke Eddie’s not in on. Is he about to tell Eddie about a wet dream he had or something? Eddie is suddenly uncomfortable by how little space there is between them. He jumps up.
He awkwardly moves to lean on the desk and then restlessly slides into his desk chair again, as ungraceful as ever. He cringes at his own unnerving behavior.
“Oh… that- that’s good.” Eddie’s voice cracks.
“You were there,” Steve tells him. His voice has gone all sultry. Eddie’s heart is pounding. Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Oh yeah?” he barely manages to croak out.
“We were right here, on your bed.” Steve carries on. He stretches a leg out and presses his socked foot against the inside of Eddie’s thigh. He uses his foot to swivel Eddie around so they’re facing each other fully. Eddie must be bright red. He rubs his face aggressively.
This is territory that they have never come near to crossing into. Eddie barely even jokingly flirts with Steve anymore. He received one too many knowing glances from various party members.
“Ah yeah. I get the picture Steve, you don’t have to go on.” It’s partly muffled by his clammy palms. How is this real? In what world is Steve Harrington willingly hitting on Eddie Munson? In what universe does Steve have sweet dreams about him?
“Oh yeah? Tell me what you think happened next then.” Steve challenges, Eddie can hear the amusement in his voice.
“I dunno.” Eddie peaks through his hands to see Steve is all splayed out, sweater riding up, hair haloed around him sweetly. Evil, he’s evil.
“Use your creativity, Eds. I know you can do it.”
“Steve, please,” Eddie shrinks into himself in embarrassment.
“You started undressing me. Took your sweet time too.” Steve starts pushing the sweater up his stomach with a seductive slide of his hand. Eddie’s pretty sure this afternoon is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He swallows loudly like a love-sick cartoon character.
“I’d let you, you know? Right now if you wanted to.” Steve bats his eyelashes at Eddie. Now’s your time to act, you virgin idiot. Do something! Say something, he urges himself. But he’s paralyzed.
When Eddie makes no move to get up from his desk chair, Steve scoots off the bed and stands over Eddie. Walks right up so that he’s got one of Eddie’s legs between his own. He grabs Eddie’s chin and pulls his face up.
Eddie blinks up at him nervously. Sure he’s heard loads about the Steve Harrington charm, but having it directed at him is heady and overwhelming. He’s not confident enough to enjoy it. Steve’s hand twitches and his expression falters slightly.
“Or… sorry, do you not want me? Robin thought- well, nevermind. Did I read you wrong?” Steve is giving him uncertain, puppy dog eyes. He wonders how anyone has ever said no to Steve’s pretty eyes.
Eddie would be an idiot to pass up an opportunity like this. But the fact of the matter is, he’s scared. He’s scared to disappoint and scared because he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s scared because he doesn’t know what Steve expects from him. He doesn’t want to blow his only shot at this.
“No, I do. I want you,” Eddie assures him. He swallows and rests a shaky hand on Steve’s hip. “I worry I won't live up to Dream-Eddie, though. He seems like a charming fellow.”
Steve smiles and hooks a finger in the collar of Eddie’s shirt.
“I guess you have your work laid out for you then. You’re competitive, right?” Steve pulls Eddie to his feet so they're standing, beating hearts pressed together. Eddie wants to curve away, embarrassed by the absurdity of how fast his heart rate must feel.
Steve trails gentle hands up the lengths of Eddie’s arms. Eddie does his damndest to suppress the shiver he gets. Steve slides his fingers into the sleeves of Eddie’s t-shirt and wraps his hands around Eddie’s biceps.
“Flex.” Steve demands, and looks up at Ed through long pretty eyelashes. It takes Eddie a second to realize what he’s asking. He belatedly tightens his arm muscles and Steve squeezes with a satisfied little grin. He hums appreciatively.
Steve slides out of Ed’s sleeves and continues upward to wrap his arms around Eddie's neck, gently sweeping hair out of the way. It brings them impossibly close. They’re sharing air now, it’s expensive Steve Harrington air. It’s a commodity. It tastes like Eddie’s about to get his first kiss.
Eddie suddenly remembers that he has arms and Steve is probably waiting for him to use them. A million different ways Eddie could touch him, flash behind his eyes like a montage of all of his sweetest daydreams.
Eddie isn’t really sure what possesses him, then. He doesn’t think too much about it. He just slides his hands into Steve’s back pockets, and he fucking squeezes. Oh god.
Steve’s mouth drops open; he lets out a soft surprised huff. His cheeks are flushed, and his big brown eyes bounce between Eddie’s.
Steve moves to cradle either side of Eddie’s jaw, pushing a thumb into one of his cheeks. Eddie must look confused by that because Steve whispers, “dimple,” before tilting his head and surging forward to catch Eddie’s lips.
Eddie’s heart jumps when he feels Steve’s pillowy lips seal against his. The kiss is heated, insistent from the get go. Steve sets an ambitious pace, pushing and pulling, and Eddie is doing his best to follow his lead.
Steve’s big hands are framing his face, keeping him in place, and the smell of his summery cologne is giving Eddie butterflies.
Eddie can’t help himself, he reaches up with a shaky hand to gently thread his fingers through the ends of Steve’s hair. He misses twice because Steve is writhing against him as the kiss picks up in intensity. When he finally gets a handful of hair, he sighs. It’s so soft, he wants to run it along his face.
Meanwhile, he tries not to feel embarrassed about the loud smacking sounds of their lips breaking apart and the deep exhales from their noses pressed into each other’s cheeks.
Eddie jolts backwards when Steve’s tongue licks across the inside of Eddie’s bottom lip. Steve pulls away unwillingly, voicing a hum of dissatisfaction. He opens his eyes to behold Eddie’s undoing; Ed can only imagine what he looks like right now. His cheeks are probably splotchy and red, eyes wide, looking a mess.
“What are you acting so shy for?” Steve chuckles and pulls Eddie in by the waist. He presses a few more smiley tight-lipped kisses from corner to corner of Eddie’s mouth, switching the tilt of his head to maneuver around Eddie’s nose.
When he pulls back again, Eddie covers his face by crossing strands of hair in front of it to hide his smile.
“So shy! You’re acting like it’s your first kiss or something!” Steve exclaims playfully.
Eddie feels his face drop and heart sink like someone just cast an anchor and dragged his confidence along with it. Is that why Steve made a move? He was expecting Eddie to be just as experienced and adept?
“Yeah, I mean… it is. It is my first.” He whispers and steps back until his thighs hit his desk. He crosses his arms in front of himself and wonders how unappealing he just became in Steve’s eyes. He could have lied maybe, but the jig was up as soon as Steve kissed him. Eddie has no idea what he’s doing.
Steve’s shoulders drop, his eyebrows furrow. Eddie Munson: ruining moods since ‘65.
“Oh, no shit? You’ve never kissed anyone?” Steve grabs Eddie’s elbow.
“Well, I have now.” He responds with a pout. Steve steps back and runs hands down his face.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry Eddie, I didn’t know! I feel a dick for coming on so strong now.” Steve’s eyes are wide and apologetic.
“I had no idea, I swear. It’s just, you walk around swaying your little hips and smirking at people like you’re some sort of… sex god. Or something.”
“Sex god?!” A loud laugh is startled out of Eddie. Now it’s Steve’s turn to look embarrassed.
“You’re usually so confident! I dunno! You’re the freak! I thought you were a freak.”
“Nah, man. You’re a freak, Harrington. You come into my home and start insisting we act out your sex dream…” Eddie pulls him in and squeezes his sides so that he knows Eddie’s only teasing.
“Sorry, Eddie. We can do a do-over of your first kiss. I’ll be softer.” Steve leans in and nuzzles into Eddie’s neck. He presses a kiss against the silver chain that rests there.
“C’mere, Handsome” Eddie whispers and pulls Steve into a sweeter kiss. This time it’s delicate, indulgent. He luxuriates in the drag of Steve’s lips every time they pull apart. He winds his arms under Steve’s to rest palms against his broad swimmer shoulders. It’s a dream, kissing Steve Harrington. How lucky he should be to experience it twice. He wonders what Steve’s dream was like.
“Tell me what happened in your dream?” Eddie asks between tender kisses. Steve drags them over to sit on the edge of his bed together. He gives Ed one last lingering press of his lips before responding.
“You were sweet, kind of a tease. I liked it.”
“I was a sex god?” Eddie cracks a wide smile and Steve reaches to smooth over one of Eddie’s dimples.
“Shut uppp. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll never let it go.”
“I’m just as dismayed as you are, Sunshine. I also wish I was a sex god.” Eddie flops back on the bed and Steve crawls over, following him up. Eddie lowers his chin to watch. Steve lays his weight on top of Eddie and it feels so good.
Eddie runs eager hands all over him. “Are you still interested in me despite my lack of experience, or…?” Eddie asks him. He feels Steve nod eagerly into his neck, and Eddie sighs in relief.
“Well where do you wanna start, Sunshine?”
I could be persuaded into writing a part 2 if the people wanted... Otherwise I hope you enjoyed ◡̈
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fluff#virgin eddie munson#steve harrington is a flirt#steve loves eddies dimples#should I write a part 2#steddiewithachance
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A Safe Way Out
Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)
Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.
Word Count: ~3,384
Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language
Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.
Breech, Jonathan.
He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.
At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.
You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.
One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.
"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?
Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.
"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.
"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.
He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.
You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.
"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.
"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"
"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.
"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.
"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.
"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.
"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"
You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.
"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.
"Five weeks or five years?"
"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.
"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.
He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.
"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."
You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.
"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.
"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.
"Why do ya wanna die?"
He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.
"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"
He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.
"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."
"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.
"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"
You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.
"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.
He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.
"Mm, didja like that?"
Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.
"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.
You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.
"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.
"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.
"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.
After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.
"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.
"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.
"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.
He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.
"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.
"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"
You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.
He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.
"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.
Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.
"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.
Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.
You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.
"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.
"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.
"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.
Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.
"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.
He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.
He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.
Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.
"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.
"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.
"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.
"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.
"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.
You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.
The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.
"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.
"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.
"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.
"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.
"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.
"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"
You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.
"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sámh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.
"Say your prayers and sleep well."
With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.
#jonathan breech#on the edge#on the edge 2001#jonathan breech x reader#cillian murphy#jonathan breech smut#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x fem!reader#young cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfic#on the edge movie#irish film#fictional psychiatric hospital#don't like don't read#my writing#winnie's writing
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A Solid Foundation
Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?
Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library
“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.
She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.
“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.
“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.
It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.
You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.
“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.
“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”
“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.
“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”
But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.
You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.
You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.
Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.
You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.
“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.
“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”
“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”
“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.
“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.
“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.
“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.
“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.
You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.
Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.
“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.
“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”
He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.
“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.
“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.
“Yeah, care for a drive?”
* * *
The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.
You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.
Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.
Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.
You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.
You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.
He’s building you a home.
“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.
“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.
“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?
“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.
You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.
Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.
The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.
As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.
He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.
“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.
“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.
Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.
Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.
“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”
You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.
“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.
“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.
“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.
For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.
“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.
“Of course, my love.”
He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.
If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here
#em answers#em writes#Cia 🐴#bucky Barnes#Bucky#Connect4AU#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes au#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfiction#bucky fanfic#sebastian stan#sebastian stan characters
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Hi! I really like your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a Yandere!Platonic 1st Years (+Grim) with an Eri!Reader?
How would they feel learning of her abused, trauma, and her unfamiliarity with general society and social norms? (Who’s looking murderous when they see just the scars littered around her arms and legs when her bandages are removed?)
Though it’s a whole different story when she says she sees her power as nothing but a ‘curse’, and her existence a ‘burden’ that only makes others suffer? All because of the man named ‘Overhaul’, the one who did this so her? (Who’s about to go feral when she admits she doesn’t remember how to smile?)
But she starts to become more positive thanks to Grim and slowly the others (She likes Grim and is very sparkly eyed because he talks, breaths fire and thinks he’s amazing)
Imagine when she says she made a friend all on her very own who’s ‘like her’, though they lightly chastise her that she shouldn’t talk with strangers (It’s Malleus, they’re both lonely, have horns she has 1, while Malleus has 2, have an incredible power that’s very dangerous, and they’re unfamiliar/slow with society)
Eri Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
You’ve been through so much….so you’ve been told. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant voice in your head that has guilt weighing on your little heart. Your transportation to Twisted Wonderland couldn’t come at a better time. They’re going to welcome you cage you to this new world more than willing to spoil you to your hearts content:
Grim
“Oi oi servant they all think we’re monsters!”
“...yeah?”
“Yeah! So we gotta show them we’re gonna be the greatest mages in here!”
“Oh….okay!”
He’s the perfect chaotic companion
He teaches you to allow yourself to do what you want
Granted his guidance isn’t all knowing
No matter how tasty Heartslabyul’s tarts are you shouldn’t eat them everytime you visit — especially without permission
Either way you’re learning to forgive yourself and allow you to have fun
And leave it to Grim to say whatever snarky thing you’d like to say when your big-brothers get in the way
“Nyeh! You won’t be able to do anything against my flames, nyah!”
Ace Trappola
“Hey if I catch you moping about that plague doctor guy, I’ll sock ya in the head!”
“Ace?!”
“I-i-i won’t!”
In a weird way you’re so used to being bullied (by kai) that you tend to take his bully-affection to heart
You know he cares, he just won’t tell you often
He reminds you of a certain blonde…
It also makes you more privy to his very willing desire to steamroll over anyone he deems a problem for you
“I think he meant that as a joke, Ace…”
“Joke schmoke, I warned you, you stain! I’m putting you in the medical wing.”
“Ace, please!”
Deuce Spade
“(Y/n), did you eat today? Are you feeling well? Do you need me to carry you!”
Mother hen of the group
He’s hovering close behind even when you don’t see him
Always making sure you’re safe and happy as can be
He’s teeming with anxiety if he’s not watching you himself
Even worse if you get hurt accidentally or on purpose
Now he’s Mama bear totally bearing the claws to protect you
He’s not going to leave you to defend yourself
Especially when your abilities hinge on your mental state
He’s trying his best
“Are you doing the breathing techniques Crewel recommended? Where’s your paper bag?”
Jack Howl
“Hello little one.”
“Hi.”
“Would you…like to sit on my shoulders?”
“Yes!”
Your #1 guard dog
Doesn’t have to worry considering Deuce is freaking out for him
He’ll be the sane voice of reason because Ace isn’t anywhere close to reliable in his eyes
Naturally he entrances you with his tail and overall dog-like personality
But don’t forget he’s got the bite force of a wolf that he’s not afraid to use if he deems fit
“Pup, don’t stop yourself from having fun or being…young. I–we will keep you safe.”
Epel Felmier
“You’re so pretty.”
“...Thanks.”
You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that
And he loves nothing more than escaping Vil to find out what other sweet makes you smile sweetly
He’s also one of the first to join Ace as part of the self-proclaimed protection committee
He’s also one of the first to suggest taking it further than a mere beatdown
Anything for his new little sibling
“If there’s no body…there’ll be no problems.”
Sebek Zigvolt
“TINY HORNED HUMAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIASOMNIA PIN!”
“Uhm…Ace took it from me…said it was unfair.”
“THAT FOOL. COME CHILD I SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU THE PIN AGAIN.”
Is definitely apart of a brainwash committee of his own and is insistent you become Diasomnia’s new mascot…under Malleus of course
His loudness sometimes scares you off but he means well
And will no doubt join the others if a few heads need to roll
“Rest easy, child. On my watch, no one will harm you.”
#yandere ace trappola#yandere ace x reader#yandere ace#yandere deuce x reader#yandere deuce spade#yandere jack howl#yandere jack howl x reader#yandere deuce spade x reader#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twst x reader#yandere harem#yandere#platonic yandere x reader#child reader#yanderes x child reader#yandere sebek zigvolt#yandere sebek x reader#yandere sebek#yandere epel felmier#yandere epel x reader#yandere epel felmier x reader
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Soft Sounds | Dean
Summary: Dean mocks you for listening to nature sounds/lo-fi music while you sleep.
Based off of this request here, thank you! <3
Word count: 996
♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱
Sleeping with any sort of noise has always been so comforting for you, having to live with the loud sounds of the world, all of the trauma you've endeavoured keeps you awake at night, memories creeping back from the most horrific times in your life.
You bought yourself your own little white noise machine a week ago, it makes multiple different sounds, and your favourites are lo-fi music and rain/thunder sounds. It's not every night that you have to use this, though, but it really does help. Especially with sleeping alone, your brain loves to play tricks on you during your quietest hours.
Tonight, you turn on your machine, clicking the button on top to change which sound you'd prefer to hear tonight. Your door is slightly ajar, knowing that the brothers were in the kitchen sharing a couple of beers and catching up. You had already told them you're going to have an early night for once and try to catch up on a lot of sleep you've missed out on recently. Doing this could probably help your awful sleep schedule.
You change into your pyjamas, a t-shirt and shorts combo that you threw on from the night before. Trying to look good while you slept is never the first thought since you literally live with two men who couldn't give any less of a crap, also, you're not dating either of them. You climb into bed and throw the covers over you, moving your hair out of your face, and lay on your side. Scrolling through your phone, you try to focus on the sounds coming from your machine, and within minutes, you're knocked out.
♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱
As Sam and Dean call it a night, Sam stays to watch a movie in the main room, whilst Dean makes his way down toward the bedrooms. He notices your bedroom door is still slightly open, and he assumes you're awake.
"Hey, Y/-" He pauses, seeing you're fast out with your phone screen lit up, the lights still on and some noise coming from a weird-looking radio. He frowns, not knowing what is going on. He very quietly makes his way into your bedroom, and locks your phone, placing it on your bedside table. He dims the lights as he pads on over to your radio. "What the Hell is this?" He asks himself, keeping his voice just above a whisper. He glances at the tiny screen that presents what's playing. "She sleeps to this?" He scoffs, and a small grin appears on his face. He looks back at you, huffing. "This is such a Y/N thing to have." He says, standing back up and glancing over at you. Why would she ever own something like this? He thought to himself. It's stupid.
Your positioning in bed makes Dean chuckle to himself. You quite literally take up the whole bed, sprawled out like a starfish. It's mostly funny to him because of how cute you look when you're completely conked out. Your hair in your face, your shirt slightly riding up your torso from the amount of times you've tried to get comfy. "Hold on, is that my shirt?" He laughs quietly, admiring how natural you are.
Dean usually goes for the typical blonde, blue-eyed type of girl. The ones that show that they know they're sexy, that they can get any man they desire, but you - you were different. You never gave a damn about how you looked. If someone liked you, you'd make sure they get every single side of you, every single flaw and weakness. Having Dean see you completely barefaced and look like you just collapsed on your bed was the least of your worries.
Dean's gaze hovers over you for another minute or so, he catches himself smiling, noticing how comfy you are. You shuffle, which scares him a little, panicking that you're going to wake up to him watching you sleep.
"Dean?"
"Y-yeah?" He whispers, taking his hands out of his pockets.
"What are you doing in here?" You groan, wiping your hair out of your face, barely opening your eyes. "I um, heard your little radio thing and... I got curious." He says, an awkward smile appearing on his full lips. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head. You hum quietly in agreement with what he said. Whether Dean understood or not, it didn't matter. "Are you staying?" You mumble, shuffling yourself to the side to make more room. You quietly pat the side of the bed, inviting Dean to join you.
His heart skipped a beat. Sharing a bed with the only girl who genuinely liked him for him? It's almost unbelievable.
"Are you sure? I can go back to my room-"
"Dean, just get in." You say, pulling the covers open for him. His eyes lit up and the smile on his face looked as if it had been slapped on. He takes off his flannel shirt revealing his dark grey t-shirt underneath, and also taking his jeans off down to his underwear. He gently sits down on your bed, ensuring there's still enough space for you. He keeps his space, though, not wanting to give any wrong ideas. "Why were you looking at my machine?" You say, and Dean grins. "It looks weird. Why do you sleep with it?"
"It's to help me sleep."
"It's to help me sleep," He mocks, shutting his eyes. "Just sleep in silence, it's not that hard." He adds, and you huff. "So funny." You grin, slowly moving closer toward him. "It's nice though, really nice..." He trails, his eyes are fully shut, and his body is relaxing. "Come here," He says, adjusting himself so he's lying slightly above you, and you move in to lay on his chest, your leg intertwined with his. He keeps his arm rested above his head, his other hand caressing your hair. "This is nice," He mumbles, almost instantly drifting to sleep.
#supernatural#spn#supernatural imagines#spn imagines#sam winchester imagines#dean winchester imagines#sam winchester#supernatural imagine#dean winchester#dean x reader
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