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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully.

You had a son.

…

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

“Y/N,”

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

…

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well.

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply.

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly.

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

You already knew what he was going to say.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You rushed to say.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

…

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward.

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way.

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other.

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

…

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why.

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were.

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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ronwestbreeze · 2 months

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you're gonna go far | 10

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 3.9k

read on AO3

You eventually decided to forget your body for now and leave it to Norm to take care of it. All you were focusing on was burying yourself further into work.

Which included going back to tending to your garden by planting and replanting a few seeds and veggies. Then there was checking up on the baby who was bound to be due soon, you’d spend the last few hours of the day with her until eventually, you forced yourself to sleep in the Avatar Compound.

That was your schedule throughout the next couple of days. Along with that, you took on more work to distract yourself such as restocking more link shacks and taking care of the land along with the other avatars. It was one of the many deals the humans made with the People in exchange for letting them stay instead of going into exile. It kept you busy whenever you didn’t need to tend to your garden. Any free time that you happened to have would’ve been filled up with something else to keep you busy.

The only peace you got was at the end of the day when you were in the tank room.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone, little one.” You said to her the first night you returned to Hell’s Gate. “I was unfortunately a bit distracted. But now I’m here and I’m never leaving you that long again. That is, until you’re born of course.”

There was a subtle shift in the stomach, bringing you a slight sense of comfort that she still remembered your voice. You didn’t know why it was comforting though. You wouldn’t be the one to hold her in the end. You probably wouldn’t be able to see her much once she was with her rightful parents…

Stop—stop.

Then there was foraging.

You enjoyed wandering around the forest to both discover new things and become well acquainted with the familiar routes. Going to your mother’s grave, finding the shack you had been trapped in, and even venturing further out just to see what was out there. Things you’ve missed.

It would’ve been nice if there was some comfort to all of it. But it made you forget. Made you think less. That was enough for now.

Until you eventually had to return to the clan’s base for Mo’at’s checkups. And not wanting to anger the Tsahik, you went anyway despite your reservations about it. All you could do was pray you didn’t run into Jake during the short visit.

So when you saw Tsu’tey with his brother inside her hut, you were strangely relieved which quickly made your stomach churn at the very thought.

His brother, Arvok, noticed you first as Mo’at was working on his abdomen. Surprisingly, he offered a white yet tired smile your way, “Ah, my savior the dreamwalker! I thought I was dreaming before.”

He ended up sitting up a bit as he spoke but Mo’at forced him to lie back down, “Hold still.”

“No need to thank me. It was nothing.” You mumbled, face impenetrably impassive.

“Nothing?! I heard you died because you saved me. How is that nothing?” Arvok sat up a little again only for his head to be forced back down by an irritated Tsahik.

You tried not to acknowledge the younger male’s words. Tsu’tey watched you for a beat before nudging Arvok’s shoulder gently, “Mawey, tsmukan.”

Not bothering to try and understand what he had said, you muttered again, this time sternly, “As I said, it was nothing—frankly, you should be more worried about yourself and the person who stabbed you.” Finding the new topic, you quickly steered the conversation in that direction. “By the way, who injured you in the first place—”

“That is none of your concern,” Tsu’tey said simply with his face somewhat screwed into his usual scowl.

You nodded expectantly, “Yeah, I thought so.”

Arvok then nudged his arm, hissing at him in Na’vi. Tsu’tey didn’t appear happy but spoke again, “It is clan business. Something that you should not concern yourself with. You have been too involved enough as it is.”

“Ha!” Mo’at huffed earning a glare from the Olo’eyktan. She did not offer more and continued tending to Arvok.

“Well,” You frowned, clenching and unclenching your hands. By then you realized you were still standing while the other three were much closer to the ground. “I did get poisoned by this clan business but you’re right. I suppose it is none of my concern.”

At this, Mo’at finally stood and scowled at the two of you—more specifically Tsu’tey, “If this is how your interactions will be during this time, then I must ask you to leave and come back when you are ready to speak with her correctly.” She gestured for Arvok to sit up—albeit slowly—and dismissed him, “You must continue resting. It will be a long while before you can hunt again.”

“Yes, Tsahik.” With a grumble, Arvok slowly pushed to his feet, the wince clear on his youthful features. But he looked better. Better than you had expected someone to have been stabbed to look. Then again, Mo’at must’ve been working on him while you had been unconscious—dead—so he had time to get better.

He held his abdomen gingerly as he walked past you, sending you a quick nod before he finally left. “You!” At that, your attention turned back to Mo’at who was now pointing at the spot Arvok had been, “Sit. Now.”

Obediently you sunk to the floor and allowed Mo’at to start her work on you. Tsu’tey surprisingly didn’t leave and just lingered in the background much to your dismay. But your body wasn’t tense because of his presence. You were constantly glaring at the doorway, waiting for him to show up at that point, waiting with your guard up, waiting for yet another fight with that damned asshole.

“You shouldn’t be putting so much strain on this arm. You should be resting as well, let yourself get adjusted to your new body.” Mo’at instructed sternly as she applied new green mush to your arm.

You winced, both at the subtle sting in your arm and the easy way she mentioned your transference. As if it was another day. You couldn’t tell whether that pissed you off or made you quite relieved that at least someone was making a huge deal out of it. You’d already cried everything out of your system. Now you just wanted to allow yourself to feel numb.

Just until everything came back up again. If it ever would.

In the corner of your eye, Tsu’tey shifted onto the mat further behind you.

Mo’at pressed her hand against your arm, “Have you buried your former body yet?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Why are you asking me that now?”

“Some questions will be hard to answer. It is the way of life.” She replied easily as she began unwrapping the bandage on your shoulder. “But it is okay to not be ready. Are you not read, dreamwalker?”

“Sure.” It was all you offered.

You left the body to Norm now. You made him swear not to tell you where he planned on putting it. And you were okay with that.

You were fine—you were fine—you were fine—

Eventually, after enduring a long silence—which you were quite comfortable with—Mo’at finished and stood. You moved to get up as well but she pressed her hand down on your shoulder and shook her head, “You speak with Olo’eyktan first. Then you leave.”

With that, she stepped out of the hut and you, after great reluctance, looked over your shoulder at Tsu’tey to find him slightly sitting hunched over on the ground, playing with something in his fingers.

You weren’t going to speak first. He wanted to speak with you. You would wait for him.

And eventually he did, “When Mo’at brought up the potential—that you could be our fourth mate—what did you think?”

The question startled you. It was the last thing you ever thought he’d ask. And the fact that it was Tsu’tey himself asking you this and not Neytiri or hell, even Jake.

But you remained on guard anyway, “Do you care?”

At that, he raised his gaze from whatever was in his hands to look at you, “Many people have made their opinions known about the matter. All but you. It’s as if your voice is drowned out by an unforgiving storm. I am asking you, dreamwalker. What do you think of it?”

For a moment you considered your words carefully. The conversation wasn’t adversary so you lowered your defense, only by a little bit. And as you thought about your answer, you realized you hadn’t even had the chance to think about what you truly thought about the idea of being their fourth mate. Neytiri had mentioned them looking for one long ago but you never imagined it would be you. You never imagined—

You never imagined you’d be loved.

And because of that, it was simply never in the cards for you. Even if there were moments where you—

“Why doesn’t it matter anyway?” You glared down at your fingers, watching as your nails dug into your palms. “Can you honestly imagine us as mates? I mean have you thought about it yourself? Can you even imagine Jake and I as mates? After the other night? Tsu’tey, I think the answer’s pretty clear.” You faced him, jaw tight and your voice quiet despite your steeled spine, “I’m too broken. And it would be cruel—I am not cruel and I’m not selfish enough to allow you three to drag yourselves to the bottom because of me. And that’s what I think. It’s quite simple actually—”

“To your human mind, yes.” Tsu’tey shook his head and stood, turning his back to you. He paced for a moment, eyes searching the room until he finally spoke. “But it is about duty. If Eywa has favored you then I must do my job as Olo’eyktan and honor that. If you are our fourth—”

“You don’t know that.”

“You are right, I do not!” He hissed but stopped, almost as if he were restraining himself.

You clenched your hands together again, glaring down at the matted floor. For a moment, the two of you were silent. This had to be the longest conversation you and Tsu’tey had ever had. And of course, it was about something heavy, something complicated, something difficult to even comprehend. Why couldn’t it have been something simple? Why couldn’t things be simple?

“I have failed my people.”

A beat went by and you looked up, wondering if that was all he had to say only to find his gaze on you. Intense and yellow. Unreadable yet uncomfortable to receive, nonetheless.

But his face was gentle as he spoke. His voice was quieter, “And in some ways, I feel I have failed our Great Mother. I feel I have failed my mates. My son. My unborn children. My mother. My brother. My father. Perhaps you do not understand it, dreamwalker, but it is my sworn duty to do what I must for my clan. To be the leader that they deserve. And I am not.” He stepped forward until he was standing in front of you and dropped something into your hands.

It was pretty. A handwoven string of beads and gems, almost too gorgeous to belong to someone like you. You held it limply in your hands, not wanting to touch it any further.

“I am not a good mate.” He continued, now his face unreadable. You weren’t really sure what yours looked like at the moment but you hoped it didn’t convey what you felt at the moment as he spoke.

Utter dread. Shock. And pity.

“If I had proposed to you, I would have thought that I had done right by the Great Mother.”

He said it so simply. Proposed? Tsu’tey? To you? How come he didn’t appear affected when he said these words? Why was it you that was struck frozen by this revelation?

Perhaps he was good at hiding it. Perhaps you were too.

Tsu’tey knelt in front of you and looked down at the string, his face still a mask. “I would take care of you, just as I do with my other mates. I would treat your children as my own, I would be okay with not being in love with you for the sake of duty.” Unconsciously, your fingers wrapped around the string as you took in his words. Very deliberate, very careful, very real. “But you would have said no. And I would be okay with that too. Because I cannot commit to my duty. Because I am a bad Olo’eyktan. And…” The words seemed difficult to spill out from his mouth but he forced it out anyway. “And I am not cruel enough either, dreamwalker.”

For a moment, you did not say a thing. For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming. For a moment, you wondered if there could be a world where you and Tsu’tey weren’t hostile to each other like now. You wondered if there could be a world where you’d look at him as something more.

Because in the end, you appreciated his honesty. Frankly, that was one of the best things you liked about the Na’vi. They weren’t like humans. They didn’t hold anything back because they didn’t see a reason to.

And it made your next words clear and firm, “Your search for worthiness isn’t on me, Tsu’tey. And a proposal definitely wouldn’t have been able to fix that.” You frowned and glanced down at the string and then back at him, “That wasn’t a proposal, right?”

Tsu’tey stood then, his tail swishing behind him. “I suppose it was. In a way.” He looked at you expectantly, “And your answer, dreamwalker?”

He held a look that told you he already knew your answer. You stood as well and handed him back the beaded string with yet another impassive mask, “No. That is my answer. But you knew that.”

Wordlessly, he took the beads back, his gaze never leaving it. You stood there for a moment, feeling exhausted once more. And again, Tsu’tey allowed himself to appear the same.

Too tired for this world. Too tired to carry on.

You steeled yourself away and stood straighter, “So you agree. This isn’t what Eywa wanted.”

At that, his ears twitched, “We do not know what she wants. It has always been that way. And it will remain so.”

Nodding, you moved past him and toward the entrance, only to stop short. Your brain was muddled, your emotions were tangled, and yet you spoke clearly. “If your deity is as great as you all say she is, then I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to suffer.”

Without waiting for a response, you left. Not daring to look back. Not daring to ponder questions you’ve never thought about until now.

Enough. Enough of all of it.

“Any day now.” You mumbled, staring bleakly down at the table as Norm was checking the ultrasound. It was weird being several inches taller than him now when in human form he had quite the height over you, “We just have to watch her closely now.”

Norm nodded, “Good, good. That’s great news. I’ll let the parents know. You good staying here for a bit?”

“Always.” You watched over the tank as Norm left the room. Tucking the tablet under your arm, you placed your hand against the class, “Can’t wait to meet you, finally. I wonder if you’re gonna be as quiet when you’re born.”

The silence was suffocating, and So were the tears. They had finally come.

God, you were so angry.

Was this really all you were worth? An obligation? Something so worthless that you needed empty protection? Was that all they saw in you? Was that all you’ll ever be to them?

You sank into a nearby chair, allowing the silent tears to fall.

It wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to be the outsider—the intruder. All you wanted was to save a bunch of trees and now you’re here. A stain. An inconvenience. Blood red on a perfect white canvas.

This baby girl didn’t deserve someone as shattered as you. She deserved the loving parents that claimed her from the beginning. Protected and kept away from your storm.

“I hope this world doesn’t hurt you, little one.” You wiped at your eyes, beaten and bruised already.

Norm eventually came back moments later. You hadn’t gotten up from the chair. He saw your dried tears and cleared his throat, “Jake said he’s already on his way, um,” He appeared careful and gentle as he spoke, “I’ll take over if you need a break.”

“You don’t have to.” Was your attempt at a protest.

But he shook his head adamantly, “No, I will. You’ve—it’s been pretty rough for you. It’s the least I can do for…”

You frowned as he avoided your gaze.

“I could’ve done better—more to save you—”

“Spellman, you're fine,” You shook your head and stood. “I don’t blame you—couldn’t if I wanted to. You’re the only one that has my back here. Well, maybe besides Neytiri.”

“Are you going then?” He asked as you walked passed him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna try to cool off. Maybe go on a walk.”

“You sure? Don’t get another chunk of your skin bitten off again. Or poisoned.”

“Ha-ha.” You responded dryly.

Deciding you wanted fresh air, you left out of Hell’s Gate and went into the forest.

You had marked the places you passed with small white strips in the past, tying them to smaller branches. It allowed you to venture further away from the base this time. And by the time the sun began to set, you found yourself at the waterfall, the same one you were at with Tsu’tey before.

And you stayed there. This time you went toward the waterfalls’ mist surrounding you the closer you got to the waterfall itself. The water moved up toward your waist until you were practically floating above water.

For a while, you stayed like this. Until night came. You stayed like this until your hair stuck to the back of your neck.

Eventually, you passed through the waterfall. Breathing out a long and delicate sigh.

These waters relaxed you. These waters made you forget.

Once you reached the other side of the waterfall, there was a rock large enough for you to hoist yourself on. And sit there. You didn’t know how long you’d stay there and you didn’t care. The world outside of this place didn’t matter to you. For a while, you just wanted to forget. To become stone.

Half alive and half buried in the ground.

That is until the world called for you to come back. Until the world wrapped its grip on you and yanked you back into reality.

Until something whizzed past your face, cutting some of the strands from your unbraided hair.

And now across from you was a spear lodged into the stone. Whoever had thrown it had great strength. Whoever had thrown had meant to kill you.

Instantly, you froze. Heart pounding against your chest, blood rushing to your ears.

“Demon!” AN unfamiliar voice shouted further away—possibly on land away from the waterfall. Quickly, you lowered yourself on the rock. Most of the water from the mountain and mist hid you, so there was a chance that the attacker couldn’t see you. “Come out and I kill you!”

You didn’t move from the rock. From what little you could hear, the voice spoke in Na’vi as if he was giving orders to someone. Which meant this guy wasn’t alone. The many splashes coming toward you only confirmed that.

As quietly as possible, you slid off the rock and toward the spear, yanking it out of the wall with what little strength you had left. A shadow then passed you as you ducked behind the rock just as a figure stepped through the waterfall. He was wearing strange armor and his war paint was different from what you had seen the Omatikaya wear. Which also told you that these warriors that surrounded you were from a different clan. A clan you were sure that weren’t reluctant in having to kill the likes of you for being human.

The warrior had an arrow pointed and ready. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen you yet.

But before you could take your chance at escape, a quicker shadow to the right dived through the falls, aiming another spear at you.

It was so quick, you hadn’t heard the other warrior coming and barely dodged the sharp end of her spear as you slid off the rock and into the deep waters.

The spear didn’t slow and sunk into the water with you. You swam away from the two, going deeper underwater until you weren’t able to be spotted. You continued swimming away from the small enclave and made it to the other side of the waterfalls.

Praying that the mist continued to cover you up, you came up for air and climbed onto a nearby rock. You still had the discarded spear and gripped it in your hands as you hopped onto another rock—not even stopping when you heard a bunch more splashes and shouts in Na’vi coming toward you.

Once you were sure they were far enough away from you, you continued hopping on the rocks until you finally reached land. But you didn’t run, knowing that it would make too much noise. Instead, you clutched the spear to your chest and slinked into the forest, just as how Neytiri had done it when the two of you would travel through the forest together.

Be one with the forest and all that shit.

God, you couldn’t catch one break. First Jake, then Tsu’tey, and now this? It was like the universe hated you for some reason.

As quickly and as quietly as possible, you put some distance between you and the waterfall. When you got far enough, you ducked behind a thick tree, pressing your back against it while taking in shaky breaths. You kept the spear close to your chest as if it were a shield while praying that you had been quiet enough to escape.

Something sharp pressed against the side of your neck, instantly squashing any hope you had left.

“You are loud, demon.” She spoke in Na’vi. It was one of the only sentences you recognized since Neytiri used to say it to you all the time in the beginning.

You remained still, staring at the warrior in the corner of your eye.

She took the spear from your hands and tossed it to the ground, not lowering hers.

“Where is your clan, sawtute?”

Okay, she spoke a little English. Which meant this clan had lived around humans at some point,.

“I don’t have a clan.” You gritted out shakily, “And I’m not trespassing—”

“Demon! All of you!” She hissed, the tip pressing further into your skin. “I kill you and bring your head back to my clan. The rest of you demons will follow!”

You glanced toward the spear on the ground, trying to figure out how fast you’d have to move to get it and escape.

But you nor the warrior didn’t get a chance to do anything as an arrow flew through the trees and hit the warrior in her shoulder.

She stumbled back, you took the chance and grabbed the spear from the ground.

As the warrior fell to her knees, your savior stood further away behind her. Bow raised with another arrow pointed at her.

You breathed out shakily, “It’s you.”

(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

Text

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

276 notes · View notes

moog-rt · 2 months

Text

GO TO HELL [ch. 5]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Four

➨ Chapter Five

Next: Coming Soon...

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

A/N: Hold onto your britches, this chapter is chock-full of our Big Boss of Hell! Also, my sincerest apologies for the slight cliffhanger last chapter. Fingers crossed it doesn’t happen again!

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER FIVE

You didn’t dare take your eyes off of him.

The man took a step forward and you promptly launched a ladle at him, backpedaling behind the couch as he dodged it. You huffed when it only missed by a hair.

A plethora of household items were strewn about the hardwood floors of the foyer. Books, spray bottles, spoons (you broke into the crate containing the unpacked kitchenware in search of more ammo), etc. were scattered further and further away from their original home as you used them as a way of keeping him a safe distance from you.

“Please, put the skillet down,” he said, inching closer and closer to you, hands outstretched.

If he thought he could trick you into giving up your only form of defense, he was sorely mistaken.

“Stay back!” you hissed, grabbing a wrought iron skillet you had chucked at him earlier. He could try all he wanted to get at you, eat you, skin you, auction you off on the black market… You simply refused to let him have you without a fight.

“I’m not—” He was taking another step towards you but paused as you readied your weapon. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You eyed him for a moment before taking a long, deep breath. Seeing that as a sign that you were trying to settle down, he carefully came closer.

Thunk!

A single swing of the skillet sent him toppling over.

He may have been your newfound friend’s father, but you were not going to roll over and show your belly in the face of potential danger. Being a parent did not make a person automatically worthy of your trust.

“Okay,” he said in a pained tone, slowly sitting up with a slight sway to him. “That’s fine...”

He crawled onto the couch, slouching over and cradling his head where you had made contact. Without lowering your weapon, you put yourself on the other side of the couch, standing at the arm and watching him very carefully.

The two of you remained silent as he rubbed at his growing welt.

It was awkward…

Why were you actually starting to feel bad about defending yourself? The guy had jump scared you and wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone when you were clearly panicked. He just kept following you, insistent on getting you to calm down but giving you no good reason to.

Honestly, what kind of logic was that? That’s like pelting beach balls at a child with a crippling fear of spherical objects and expecting them not to flinch just because you said it won’t hurt them.

If he wanted you to feel less threatened, he could have just planted his ass on the ground and waited for you to come to him like a stray cat.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until this afternoon,” you stated.

“Right…um,” he said, looking off to the side, “You know, I just didn’t have much planned this morning, and it worked a bit better for me to come earlier—”

“Charlie told you she wouldn’t be here.” Your eyes narrowed. You knew he was making shit up, and you wanted him to know that you knew. If he wanted to beat around the bush, you would be delighted to become more proficient with the skillet.

“Right again!” The hand that cradled the side of his head moved to rub at his eyes as he sighed. After retracting his hand, he turned to face you, propping an elbow on the backrest of the couch. His eyes ran up and down your body, fully taking you in without your costume, which caused you to shift uncomfortably. Whether or not you were recognizable to him as the ‘demon’ he had already met was still to be determined. “You’re an odd duck, you know that?”

You shot him an incredulous look.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said, jerking his head in your direction. “Showing up all caked in makeup or paint or whatever it is you people wear nowadays. You and Charlie were being painfully suspicious!”

“So, you decided to sneak in when you knew she would be away? To snoop?” you asked, putting a hand on your hip. “You know that’s breaking and entering, right?”

“I am her father,” he scoffed.

“And that makes it okay? If I called to tell her you let yourself in, you think she’d be fine with it?”

“You’re going to snitch?!” his voice went a pitch higher, and he scooted to the edge of his seat.

You took a step back, tightening your grip on the skillet.

“Maybe.”

You had no way of ‘snitching’ on him to Charlie. Your phone was fried, and even then, you weren’t too sure that your provider would have coverage in Hell. And to top it off, you didn’t even have her number…but he didn’t need to know that.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something to himself as he crossed his arms.

“Why didn’t she just tell me you were human?” he asked no one in particular, throwing his arms out. “That is what you are, correct? In all my years, I have never seen a sinner nor hellborn look as human as you do.”

“Yeah, well…Charlie thought you might freak out if you knew,” you said.

He looked taken aback by that explanation before beginning to sputter.

“Freak—freak out? Because you’re human? I married a human. Her mother was a human!” His hands were waving around as he gestured along with his words.

“We didn’t really want to take any chances…” you said slowly, head tilted away but eyes still locked onto him. “The last time a demon saw me, I was nearly torn to shreds…or eaten alive… I’m not sure exactly what they had planned for me, but it didn’t seem like it’d be pleasant.”

“No, I can’t imagine it would be,” he sighed as he straightened out his hair.

This guy didn’t give two shits, did he?

He snapped his fingers and, with a plume of sparkling smoke, his top hat appeared in his hands. It had previously been about ten feet away on the floor from when you had knocked him upside the head.

“Now just how did you stumble into Hell without the minimum requirement of death?” he asked as he brushed invisible dirt from his hat before placing it back on with a few adjustments.

“That’s a great question,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve got a friend who thought it would be a good idea to try to summon a demon. Obviously, they screwed up, ‘cause it sent me here instead.”

He cackled, and you stood there with a blank expression, cheeks growing hot. Why you were feeling embarrassed over something you had no control over, you weren’t sure.

Well, come to think of it, you did have a bit of control over whether or not Devon had the essential, hard-to-acquire ingredient needed to make the whole thing happen in the first place. Maybe it was karmic justice for your pulling unethical shenanigans in the workplace.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, so they say,” he said, shooting you a shit-eating grin.

You rolled your eyes and turned to walk away.

“No, wait–don’t leave!”

You ignored him. Since he was there, you might as well give him his shit back. You would have preferred it to be under different circumstances, such as those where you still had your disguise as a buffer or Charlie returning them in your place (because you’d be back home safe and sound).

But there was no better time than the present, so they say.

You put down the skillet and grabbed the stack of books by the front reception area where you left them after being thoroughly disappointed by their contents. It appeared that Charlie’s father followed you over, as you turned around to find him looking over your shoulder to see what you picked up.

Lord have mercy on your heart.

“Okay, you have to stop that!” you scolded, taking a quick step back.

“Stop what?” he asked with a look of pure innocence.

“Popping up behind me and shit! Somebody needs to put a bell on you or something. Every time you show up out of nowhere, it gives me a goddamn heart attack,” you said, shoving the stack of books into his arms. “Here.”

“What–”

“The books you lent me. We were hoping to find something that could help me get back home but they’re all kinda…not helpful for that,” you explained, toying with a strand of your hair.

“That’s why you and Charlie were there?” he said, looking down at the books with an unreadable expression.

“Well…yes.” You tilted your head. “She thought that’d be the best place to look.”

He sighed before tossing the books up just for all of them to vanish into thin air. You blinked in surprise.

He must have been a magician when he was alive.

“I don’t understand why she didn’t just ask me,” he stressed, throwing a hand up. “I mean, I’m her dad. You’d think it would be instinctual for her!”

“She probably wasn’t sure how you’d react,” you said, looking off to the side. This felt like it could easily spiral into a family therapy session, and even if you were qualified, you did not sign up for that.

“I just have to prove myself to her!” he said in a determined tone, throwing an arm over your shoulder to walk you back over to the couch, “I’ll get you home lickety-split!”

You stiffened at the unexpected contact but conceded to his will, nonetheless.

“Like, now? I could be home today?” you asked, eyes alight with hope.

“Ah…I don’t now about that. It’s been quite a while since I’ve gone to Earth so my skills may be a little rusty, but it won’t take me too long to brush up on them,” he explained as he plopped you both down on the couch. “I’ll have a portal open and ready for you to hop through in no time!”

“It–It’s that easy for you?” you asked, aghast. If Charlie knew he could do that all along, she should have just bit the bullet and asked him. Daddy issues be damned!

“Hah! I used to be able to do it with my eyes closed!” He leaned into you as he emphasized his words. “Usually, I’d charge a sacrifice or something of the sort, but you’re no sinner. You shouldn’t have to be subjected to this hellscape until you’ve earned it.”

“That’s–uh–very kind of you,” you said, smiling and nodding along whilst looking longingly at the front door of the hotel. It was generous of him to offer his services to your cause, but a social buffer would be appreciated considering your circumstances. You hoped Charlie and Vaggie returned soon.

The man continued to converse with you on the sofa for the next hour, and slowly, you felt your anxiety begin to fade. He turned out to be quite the chatterbox, and his commentary was mostly light-hearted and humorous.

Occasionally, he would stand up to poke around the entryway, commenting on anything that wasn’t quite up to his standards. That left you to come to your hostess’ defense whenever you could. After all, the hotel wasn’t technically up and running yet seeing as you weren’t an actual guest and Angel had yet to move in.

After getting all the parental nosiness out of his system, he settled back down beside you and began asking you about your life on Earth. You had to tell him again what you did for work–he apparently wasn’t paying attention the first time–and what all went into it.

The conversation jumped from topic to topic but left little room for you to ask much about him. His interest in Earth and humanity’s accomplishments was overwhelming.

When Charlie and Vaggie finally returned, they were greeted by the sight of the two of you chatting away and sipping on tea, which had been manifested out of thin air. You were highly skeptical of it at first but had decided to drink so as not to spite the one person who could get you back to Earth. You were pleasantly surprised by its flavor and relieved that it didn’t appear to be poisoned or drugged.

“Hey, Dad…” Charlie drawled as she walked up to the couch. It was clear that she was surprised he had beaten them home. “I thought you were going to come, like, an hour from now.”

“I had some free time this morning, so I decided to swing by a little earlier,” he said after standing up to nudge his shoulder into her, “Can’t put a price tag on extra time with my darling daughter.”

“Right…” Charlie said with a strained smile, looking off to the side where her eyes landed on Vaggie. She perked up and pranced over to her side, grabbing her hand to introduce her.

Her dad was ecstatic over getting to meet her girlfriend. You thought he was overbearing when you met him, but that was dwarfed in comparison. He was even more touchy and fumbling over his words.

Vaggie did her best to be polite.

“Haha…so–uh, have you been given a tour of the hotel yet?” Charlie asked, glancing over at you.

“I poked around this area a bit–-didn’t want to intrude too much,” her father chuckled with his hands propped up on his apple staff.

“I thought it would be better to leave that to you,” you said as you stood up to join the group, teacup in hand, “I still struggle to find my way around.”

The night prior, Vaggie had caught you wandering aimlessly on the fourth floor after attempting to find your way to your room on your own. They offered to walk you there since they understood the halls could be a maze sometimes, but you had decided to be stubborn, insisting it was straightforward enough. Clearly, you had overestimated your skills.

That being said, it was a miracle you were able to make it to the foyer that morning.

Vaggie chuckled a bit as she recalled the memory.

Charlie smiled at you knowingly, as well, indicating that the story had been relayed to her. She looked back at her dad for only a moment before her eyes darted back to you, eyes widening as the smile dropped from her face.

“Oh–Oh my god!” she squawked as she rushed to your side. “You’re not–Why aren’t you…” she waved her hand in circles as she tried to find the word she was looking for before leaning in to whisper, “...you know.”

Your eyes narrowed as they rolled over to look at her father.

“I barely rolled myself out of bed when he came knocking,” you explained, “Believe me, I tried to avoid being seen, but…”

But you were hunted down like a mouse running from a fox. Even when you thought you were in the clear, it seemed like he knew exactly where you were and where you would go next.

That man was scary.

“But you can’t hide something like that forever~” he sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you against him. “However, I never imagined it would be this darling little human.”

He jostled you slightly as he spoke, and you could feel your face warming up from both his actions and his words. However, he had no right to be calling anybody else ‘little’ considering his stature.

“We really need to get her a new phone,” Charlie said to Vaggie, “If she could have called or texted us, we might’ve been able to intervene.”

Charlie’s father scoffed.

“What kind of sinner do you take me for? I’m not an animal, you know––” he began to argue but paused to turn his attention on you, retracting his arm. “You threatened to call her earlier, but you don’t even have a phone?”

Your lips twitched into a guilty smile, and you took a step closer to Charlie.

“You’re a filthy little liar!” He jabbed a finger in your direction.

“You were breaking and entering!” you pitched back.

“I am her–”

“Okay!” Charlie tucked you behind her and put a hand up in front of her dad. “How about that tour then?”

She put one hand on your back and the other on her father’s as she began to lead the group of you through the hotel. You were secretly glad you were getting another chance to look around and get a grasp of the layout.

When you dared to glance over at her dad, he was already eying you bitterly, and the only thing you could think to do was shoot him a sheepish smile in return.

The childish part of you wanted to stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry, but you knew better. He made it clear he had some level of magical abilities, and to what extent, you weren’t sure. That last thing you wanted to do was learn the hard way. Besides, you needed to be on his good side so he’d help you get home.

As the tour progressed, he thankfully dropped his spiteful demeanor towards you in favor of soaking in as much of Charlie’s attention as he could get. You could tell that he was just happy to be near her.

It was sweet.

There were a few times where he exchanged some words with you lightheartedly. It reassured you that you hadn’t managed to say or do anything to genuinely piss him off. Rather, it seemed he was just the dramatic type.

You made it back to the foyer, and when Charlie was finished explaining her ideas for redeeming sinners, she waited eagerly for her father’s thoughts. She was disappointed that he had more opinions on the hotel’s appearance than its purpose, but she didn’t push the subject.

She would have a better chance pitching the idea to him once she had a few successful patrons to use as evidence that sinners could, in fact, be redeemed.

“I can certainly help you spruce the place up a bit,” he said as he waved his stick around the room, “After filling this place up with furniture and maybe adding a bit more light…I’m sure it will look wonderful, honey.”

He sent her a prideful grin, which she subtly rolled her eyes at.

“Thanks, dad… I really appreciate it,” she said as she pulled him into a hug. His face lit up before he shut his eyes and melted into her embrace.

When they parted, he made a gesture at you.

“I was also telling your friend earlier that I’d be more than happy to get her home. I just need some time to warm up. Don’t want to accidentally drop her off in the middle of Antarctica,” he said whilst nudging her and chuckling at his own joke.

“Oh! Well, I don’t really think we need your help with that…” she said, looking away.

You sent her a baffled look.

“We already found some people–today, actually–that can get her home,” she stated with a firm nod of her head. “So no need to worry about that! Sending over furniture is more than enough, which, again, I really appreciate!”

“Nonsense, this is what good fathers do! Besides, I highly doubt they could be more efficient than me,” he huffed before turning to grin at you. “I promise to have you home in no time.

♡ ♡ ♡

Tag List: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150 @froggybich @darling-angel222 @preciousbabypeter @itzabbeym @mrspepper1885

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #demon summoning #occult #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer is trying to be a good father

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little-diable · 1 year

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Committed Sins – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This is pure filth. And I'm not sorry for it. Don't copy or edit this to Wattpad or Ao3 please. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Riddle and (y/n) keep on playing the same game over and over again, pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, wrong use of a rosary, spanking, degrading, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x nun!fem!reader (1.5k words)

“Sister (y/n)?” The sharp voice left her tensing, eyes flickering up from the ground to meet Sister Jeany’s dark eyes. The elderly woman stared her down, hand tightening its grip on the wooden rosary dangling from her fingers, a daunting sight that followed (y/n) into her dreams, remembering the first time she had been forced to kneel on the wooden pearls, ripping open her skin as a punishment for sinning. “Priest Riddle is asking for you, God knows what he wants, but you better be on your finest behaviour. The Lord is always watching.”

Slowly (y/n) rose to her feet, gaze averted as she followed Sister Jeany down the hallway, not daring to look at the other nuns, whispering about (y/n). It had been months since she had joined the convent, running away from her hometown, her abusive boyfriend, and her parents that have never cared for her. The convent had taken her in with open arms, at least till the first time they found her smoking a cigarette, punished with cleaning the hallways with a toothbrush and only a glass full of water.

“Look at me.” The elderly woman forced (y/n) to halt, dangerous eyes shooting shudders down her spine. (Y/n) straightened her posture, forced to get lost in the eyes that projected a picture so haunting (y/n) forgot to breathe. “Whatever he asks you to do, you will do, you won’t protest. He is the Lord’s voice on this holy earth, what he asks you to do, is the Lord’s will. Do you understand?”

(Y/n) could only nod her head, teeth leaving marks on her lower lip to bite down her smirk. It wasn’t the first time she had been called to Priest Riddle’s office, lured into the dark room that has seen more sins being committed than the human eye could count. The other nuns had no clue of the things the young priest did to (y/n), how he touched her with wandering hands, how he fucked her on his desk as if God himself was acting through his flesh cage.

“Priest Riddle? (Y/n)’s here.” Sister Jeany’s call was met with a soft “Come in, please”. The woman watched (y/n) step into the room, door being shut in her face with a loud thud. The heavy wood of the door would keep their sounds bottled in, drowned out for curious ears, and nosy minds.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Tell me, (y/n), how many sins have you committed in the past week?” The priest wore a sickening smirk on his lips, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stand proud before him. Her wandering fingers moved up her dress, all too familiar with the game he was playing, asking the same questions he’d always ask.

“Four.” He hummed at her reply, eyes focusing on her fingers, watching her pop open the buttons of her dark habit. “I touched myself to the thought of you, in the confessional, moaned your name in the middle of the night, hoping that you’d hear me.”

“You’re walking a thin line, (y/n), soon your luck will run out. And then they’ll all know what a greedy whore you are for your priest's cock.” He rose to his feet as if the Devil himself was rising from hell, boots meeting the ground to walk to her. His cold hands caught hers, ripping them from her habit to undo the last button himself. She was naked beneath the habit, she had hoped that the day would end like this, with her body pressed against his, with her eyes squeezed shut and with her fingernails clawed into his skin.

“For you I’d always sin, one with the call of darkness.” Their lips met in a bruising kiss, forcing a moan to claw through her, arms wrapped around his neck. The priest turned them around, pushing (y/n) against his desk, trapping her with no way out. He had her in his claws, one with the darkness thumping through his veins, a sour emotion that had been etched into his system from his first year on earth, following the Devil’s every command.

She was pushed back against the table top, legs wrapped around the priest’s legs. His hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket, wrapping his rosary around his fingers before he brought his hand between her naked thighs, guided by her moans. Her eyes met his as she felt the wooden pearls press against her folds, choking on her sob, not used to the unfamiliar sensation.

The priest brushed the pearls through her folds, coated in her arousal, forcing the metal cross to leave imprints on her skin. It was sinful, so sinful, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but beg for more, needing to be stuffed by him, wanting to feel his fingers disappearing inside her. A heavy “Please” rolled off her tongue, echoing through the room like a prayer spoken by one of the nuns, filled by nothing but the wish to please the Lord in Heaven.

Her trembling frame was pushed even closer towards him, gasping in surprise as she felt two of his fingers being pushing into her, forcing her walls to part. The priest didn’t give her the needed time to adjust, eyes rolling back into her head, trapped in the darkness he had unleashed upon her body. Curses left her, rumbling through his chuckling frame like a prayer both spoke in unison.

“I will fuck you now, remind you who you belong to. Not to Him, but to me, to me only.” A protesting whine left (y/n) as he pulled his fingers from her cunt, forcing her lips to part to lick his digits clean. Their eyes kept holding contact while she moved her tongue, moaning at her taste, urged on by the anticipation flushing through her system. “Turn around.”

It took her a moment to follow the command, rising to her feet with quivering limbs, back turned towards him as she pressed her front against the table top. His hand came in contact with her behind, spanking her without a warning, making (y/n) tighten her hold on the edge of the table. A simple “Count” left the man, hand coming in contact with her skin once again.

Every strike was met with a whimper, fighting against the need to press her thighs together, unable to stop her arousal from dripping down her inner thighs. He found a sick satisfaction in seeing her whimper for him, in leaving his handprint on her skin, clearly marking her as his property, his toy.

Only as a soft “Six” left (y/n) did he let go of her, freeing his hardening cock to give her a few seconds to catch her breath. His cock was brushed through her folds, collecting enough arousal to push into her with ease, coaxing a high pitched moan from her swollen lips. The man fucked her fast, not holding back as his hips snapped against her bruised behind, forcing himself deeper into her tightness with every thrust.

“Christ, you’re so big.” Her words were met with another strike of his hand, murmuring a sharp “Don’t take His name in vain”. Like a sinning woman should be punished, he left her begging for more, something only He’d be able to give her, not one wandering with darkness seeping from every hole of his body.

Her knuckles turned lighter as (y/n) clung to the edge of the table, feeling her walls flutter around him, ready to give in within the first few moments. She was desperate for her release, desperate to let go with the priest’s name leaving her, and with her heart picking up its racing beat.

“Look at you, trembling with my cock buried inside of you, you will burn in hell one day.” It was a foolish threat, he’d burn right next to her, forever tied together by the sins they keep committing together, but (y/n) couldn’t pay his words enough attention, fighting against her arising orgasm. Her walls clenched down on his cock, begging him to give her the final push. With a click of his tongue he tainted her, forcing her to hold on, fucking her faster with groans rumbling through the man of God.

One of his cold hands found its way to her cunt, rubbing her bundle of nerves to give her the final push, choking on his name. He kept snapping his hips, cock buried inside of her till he forced himself to pull himself free, releasing himself on the back of her thighs. With his cum running along her skin, the priest forced her to stand, lips meeting one last time before they redressed.

“Oh, and (y/n),” he called after her, stopping her from leaving his office. “Go and pray, confess to your sins, may he be benevolent with your sinning soul.”

#Tom Riddle smut #priest fic #Tom Riddle imagine

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zialltops · 5 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: phew this chapter was hard to write because all i want it for them to kiss already. these two are so at each others throats that i cant WAIT to write that in the form of the devils tango. please let me know what you guys think, comments fuel my desire to write🤍

Masterlink

AO3 Link 🤍

Chapter 2: Northern Attitude

Three days of bad weather pass before Joel is able to get the truck out of the snow to drag your car out of the embankment—but he chooses not to anyway. He’s spent the last three days working and avoiding you, because he can’t keep his head from spouting off about how much you piss him off and how good you look doing it.

And piss him off, you do. The morning after your first night home, Joel was shoveling off the steps and the front driveway when you came out of the house in a pair of pants that look like they have been in your closet for years because god damn, they are tight. He doesn’t miss the look on your face when you find your way into the snow where he’s working. “Like my stupid fucking shoes? I wore them so I’d look nice when I saw my parents—thought there was some delicious cowboy here to impress. But now they are all I have to wear because some bullheaded asshole left my car on the side of the road with all of my belongings in it.”

Him, being the bullheaded asshole instead of the delicious cowboy. He’s fuming, if he wasn’t already panting, he’s sure there would be steam rolling out of his ears right about now. He can't stand you. Cant stand your cocky attitude and the way you hold your hands on your hip’s—those sexy little fucking—Joel! “Should have known better than to show up in the middle of winter in those damn heels. You did that to yourself. You should know the only thing you’re findin’ here is cow shit and snow.” You cross your arms and look over his shoulder. “Yeah—nothing but bullshit here.” He turns to find Tommy, his eyes on your figure in your stupidly tight outfit, he’d always been the bolder of the two. “Nice shoes…y’know, they do seem practical, you’re a few inches above the cold, y’know? Don’t ya think, Joel?” You smile at him and Joel sees red, that trading asshole. “Y’know, I was still gonna pull you out, bullheaded asshole here was the one who insisted we leave you.”

If Joel was a better man, he’d tell his brother to fuck off—but he’s not, so he socks him in the mouth and gives him a nasty bruise and a split lip. Both of you hightail it away from the driveway and Joel gets back to his shoveling.

Since that day, it’s been a non-stop onslaught of demeaning remarks. You sneer at him when you pass him in the halls, so he sticks to the hunting cabin he and Tommy occupy for a whole day. When he comes in for supper, you sneer at him again. “What, do you just hide out all day, doing jack shit?” He started this, he knows that, and there isn’t much he can do since he left you for dead on the side of the road a few days ago. He huffs at you when he sits down across from you while everyone else gets their plates in the kitchen. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and an aggravated shout. “I’ve been taking care of the cattle, what the hell have you been doing all day, huh? With that big fancy degree? Hid in the house all day and do your nails?” The nails in question are a sharp blue color, a homage to the crisp skies as the sun sets amongst the gloomy clouds, radiating dark indigo across the plains. His stomach curls when his brain supplies the image of them wrapped around his cock—both your little hands, manicured and soft and—son of a—“Actually, I think I forgot to check the fences. Miss Lou, do you mind if I pack this up to go?” He did forget, and he should do that, but it could have waited another day. He really needs a reason to get away from your accusing eyes right now, away from the way you unwillingly make him feel ridged all over.

He checks all the fences on the half mile walk to the hunting cabin, eats his supper at the sad little table and tries (he fucking tries, okay?) to keep his hands off himself. It aches, aches when he gets hard, like a damn weight between his legs that makes him feel dizzy from lack of blood in his poor muddled brain. He gets crazy—can't stand the thought of another person having so much control over his senses that he can't control his own bodily functions. He hates that you’ve weaseled your way in to his weaknesses—pretty eyes, smarter than him, hard to get with an attitude. It pisses him off so bad that his body reacts before his mind can gain clarity enough to tell himself no. But how can he, when all he can think about is what this is doing to him.

He cant stop thinking about how much of a bitch you are, about the type of men you probably pulled while off in collage and how you expected some kind of Adonis and what you got was just Joel. Your disappointment in his mere existence does nothing to flag how hard he is when he finally gets his hands in his pants. It should be alarming how fast he’s got himself on the edge on the image of you glaring him down, blackmailing him just so he can be your own personal verbal punching bag.

What the fuck is wrong with him, that being treated like garbage gets him so worked up. Is it because he knows it's something he'll never have? Like nothing else in the world can, you’ve got him hot and stiff in his large hand, after three days of knowing you, his head tipped back against his pillow and his eternal gratefulness that Tommy is still eating supper at the main house. At least he wont have to witness the way Joel’s resolve goes down the drain when he thinks about those pretty eyes, those nimble fingers and that bratty little attitude. He cums when he thinks about your stupid fucking shoes and how angry you are at him that you’re stuck wearing them.

Tomorrow, he’ll tell you he still cant get your car out, even if all the fucking snow melts, just so he can watch you walk around in them for a little longer, so he can hate you a little bit more. Maybe his distaste will bleed out the want, but Joel has never been that lucky.

———

It’s damn late by the time Tommy makes it home—or maybe it’s not, but Joel's guilty hand found the neck of a bottle a few moments after washing it clean, so he’s completely lost track of time. Drowning his troubles was the best thing he could come up with, so he tipped the bottle back until it was empty and his head felt like it was in a fish bowl.

The door throws open when he’s leaned all the way back in a chair at the little dining table, his bottle sitting empty in front of him and his mind reeling. “Close the damn door, it’s freezing!” He doesn’t open his eyes, because he’s got the spins and the last thing he wants to do right now is throw up.

“Aint me.” He hears Tommy’s voice somewhere in the living room and he finally peeks an eye open and glances towards the door.

“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” It’s you, standing in the doorway and letting in all the cold residing outside of these walls. Joel attempts to lean forward, but his weight wobbles and the chair falls backwards on the hardwood. “This is why this ranch doesn’t make any profit. You spend your days drunk off your ass, don’t you?” Her tone is so accusing and snappy, if Joel had half a mind he would pull himself off this floor and give her a piece of it.

“S’the end of the day, I’m not workin’, ‘n I can do whatever I want.” He pulls himself up using the table and he stand there for a moment, trying to let his head catch up with the rest of his body. “I came down here to tell you I want my car out tomorrow morning first thing. But, by the looks of it you wont be good for a damn thing in the morning.”

He groans and walks over to the door on wobbly legs, his vision is blurry but the drunk part of his brain supplies that you walked all the way here with Tommy just to bark orders at him. So, Tommy is definitely a fucking traitor, getting cozy with you when he knows how irritating Joel finds you to be. Even if you look damn good with those wind bitten red cheeks that would look so good hallowed out around his—c’mon, Joel. “I’ll be up before you, smartass. I have livestock to feed, ‘sides, I told you I'd pull it out when I could. Snow’s still too thick.” Joel uses the door frame to hold him up while you look him over from the porch. “I wasn’t asking you to pull it out, Im telling you.” Telling him? Like he’s not his own goddamned person, who makes decisions around here of his own? Hank asked him over a year ago to manage the ranch on his own—he’s been the one calling the shots here for some time, so what gives you the right to stand on his porch and tell him what he’s going to do?

“You might be the all reining princess in their eyes, but do not push me, Honey. I’m not the one to fuck with,” your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest like that might somehow make him second guess his boldness. You take a few steps closer and puff your chest out, point your nose up at him with a hard glare. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Not a damn thing.” Actually, one thing does come to mind and it takes everything in Joels power not to grab you by your hair and bend you over the back of the couch, show you exactly what he’s going to do about it.

Instead, he stands there in the frigid air, looking down at you like a pissed off little mouse staring down an alley cat, so fucking brave that he questions if he’s an alley cat at all. “When you can run this ranch by yourself, then you can look down your nose at me, but until then, you’re going to need some taller stupid fucking shoes.” He wouldn’t have the balls to say these things to you if not for the whiskey burning through his veins. Actually, he’s been pretty weary of telling you off, because the last thing he needs is you telling your parents, who obviously would believe you over him. But right now? Fresh off half a bottle and a mind numbing orgasm? He has all the courage in the world.

“I want my car out. I want my things and my clothes. You have until tomorrow night, or my parents can find new ranch hands.” He scoffs and his anxiety only bubbles up a little bit—he’ll pay for it tomorrow, but right now he’s pissed. “Well you better hurry back there and get on it. I’ll tell ya what—I’ll even help you hang up the flyers, hows that sound?” Your face is beat red in an attempt to contain your anger, your eyebrows are drawn together in the kind of pout that makes Joel chub up in his sleep pants. He’d rather sleep out in the snow than to have you see the way your attempt at aggravation works him up, so he starts to close the door on himself. “Better get to it, unless you want to be the one up at four thirty to feed.” He closes the door, turns his body and lets himself slump against the wood. His palm finds the front of his pants and he pushes, attempting to quell the sudden rush of blood that makes his head spin more than the alcohol in his system. “Damn…she’s gettin’ to you, huh?”

It’s Tommy’s obnoxious fucking voice in his head, standing near the hallway to the two small bedrooms. “Fuck off, Tommy, you know how it is for me.” The younger man laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm just sayin’, it’s kind of funny. Nobody gets under your skin like that. Does fightin’ really do it for you?” His voice is dripping with amusement and Joel wants to punch him again. “It ain’t the fightin’.” Tommy rolls his eyes when Joel reaches into his pants to adjust the discomfort. “Oh, thats right. Your shitty attitude comes sometime after she gets your big ol’—“ Joel growls at him, ”Tommy, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m going to drag you out in the snow and beat your ass.”

It does the trick, because Tommy knows Joel isn’t kidding, he’s always been the stronger of the two, the one who’s always put Tommy in his place and he’s never been afraid to sock him square in his mouth when he runs it like he is now. “You know it bothers me when I can't control it. I can’t hide it. And she just—she—she’s one of them girls you know? The one’s that you don’t stand a chance with but they rub it in your face anyways and I can’t fucking stand it. It’s embarrassin’.”

He leans away from the door and makes his way over to the couch. When he plops down, his head finds his hands and he drags his calloused fingers through his curly, wind whipped locks. “What if you did stand a chance? Been a really long time since you’ve let yourself have anything.” Tommy finds the seat beside him and their heated argument shifts into a tender conversation, one brother to another, one man to his best friend in the whole world. “Ain’t about what I can have, tom, she’s Hanks daughter and I’m double her age, at least. This,” he gestures to himself vaguely. “This is the last thing a girl like her wants to get themselves tied up in. Can’t—one and done it like you can. Takes some…workin’ up to.”

Tommy pushes his shoulder with a small snort. “Always wondered how you got that thing in anyone.” He hasn’t wondered—he’s asked for years, and Joel being the closed off man he is, never had the heart to spill his bed-mates secrets. But there hasn’t been anyone for years, certainly not someone like you who can get him going faster than anyone he’s ever met. “Just—lots of…stretching. Things I can't do during a tumble in the hay, alright? And not everyone wants to deal with that—fuck know’s I don’t.”

Deal with the rejection of someone seeing him naked and kindly (or not so kindly) telling him that they aren’t interested anymore, deal with the look of shock women give him when he’s pressed up against them—when they feel it. He’s tired of it—so he doesn’t try anymore. Having you at his doorstep, flooring that desire in him? He can't deal with that. “I always thought it would be kind of an appeal to women, don’t they like that? I mean, I didn’t get your genes but I’m not doin’ too bad, they seem to like it.” Not doing too bad? To be normal, lead a normal life where he doesn’t have to bring anxieties to a moment he should only bring pleasure? “It ain’t all puppies and rainbows, man…nine times out of ten were good and they’re into it until I get my pants off. Then they hightail it out of there before I even have a chance to explain myself.”

It’s an embarrassing conversation to have with your brother, but Joel is grateful that he at least has someone he can talk about this with, above all else. The years he’s struggled, the supposed highs that only led to disappointment. It's been one minuscule moment of rejection after another, and he’s not asking for a lot, just to feel what everyone else gets to feel—normal, wanted, less like a freak and more like something to be desired. All for something he can’t change about himself, because believe him he wants to.

“I’m sorry man…I can’t relate, but I know how hard it is for you. One day, some crazy bitch is going to love your…terrifying dick.” He snorts loudly and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “Today ain’t the day, but thanks, Tom…” his head is still spinning and if he doesn’t go to bed soon, he won't make it out to feed before the sun hits the horizon. Tommy heads to his room, but Joel finds a blanket and curls up on the couch with a trash can at his side—just incase he needs to throw up before morning comes and he sobers up.

———

He does make it out to feed. It takes him an hour to get a hundred and fifty heads of cattle fed—he can’t wait till spring when they can be turned out to pasture, when half of them are sold off and the breeding season restarts. The cold, stand still winters drive him crazy on every ranch he’s ever worked, but this one more than most, because the cold is bone deep and there's you now, to drive him crazy in every possible direction.

When he’s done with the cattle, he takes inventory of the feed room, make’s a list to take with himself to town when the roads are cleared, then makes his way over to the stable. If there is one thing he can find solitude in, it’s snorting, fussing, grouchy ass horses early in the morning. They’ll kick at the stalls until he’s filled their feeders, snort cold air at him like they don’t want his company—he finds a lot of himself in the equine’s, misunderstood unless you get to know them like he has. He finds that his favorite place to be is in a saddle, pushing cattle through spring summer and fall, just him and them and all the trust in each other they have to offer.

Once they are fed, he finds his tack bucket and pulls open the stall to a young mare they’d bought last summer. She was ready to break this spring, but Hank had all but given up on the Morgan. So much so that he’d handed Joel her bridle one morning and told him “if you can get through to her, she’s all yours, son.”

She wasn’t a big horse, compared to others over her breed, but she had an untamable mane and tail that Joel has to keep braided or it becomes a rat's nest. She’s all over the place, spooky with a fear of water that Joel can't seem to help her get over. For such a pretty little Palomino, she sure has a lot of fight in her.

“Hey, pissy girl.” He hums when she flicks her tail at him, pulling her head out of her feeder just long enough to look back at him. He’s been the only person she lets in the stall since they got her, the only person who can give her a good brush down and stand behind her without getting a hoof to the chest. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? I had stuff to do before I could bring you guys breakfast. Besides, you’re gettin’ fat.” He pats her on her flank, watches dust come up under his hand. He starts brushing her down when he hears the stable doors come open. He knows it's not Tommy, because he’s in the north field checking on the heifers who are getting ready to calf. They still have a few more weeks, but it's good to keep track in the middle of the kind of storms they’ve been getting. The last thing they need is losing a calf to this kind of cold.

“Joel? You in here?” It’s Hanks booming voice in the desolate stable. “Yeah, I’m in here Hank!” He sets down the brush and steps out of the stall because he knows Hank won't come in it. “I was tryin’ to find you before my daughter did. She been through here yet?” His stomach drops and curls—did she tell him? About the argument they had on his porch last night? That he was drunk off his ass drowning his emotions like he always has? “I don’t know what she might have…told you, but it was at home—the cows were good, animals fed, I wasn’t—“ Hank makes a face and shakes his head. “Son, I ain’t mad at you for nothin’. I told her you’re allowed to have a few drinks when you’re done with your work. She can be very…aggravating, if anyone knows that it's me. I just wanted to apologize before she comes in a raging ball of fire because shes embarrassed about her shoes.”

Embarrassed? She’s embarrassed about walking around in those boots that make her ass look like it was sculpted by gods? Those damn shoes that can get him hard in an instant? “She’s embarrassed about them?”

Hank cracks a soft smile and puts his hands on his hips. “Most of that fire comes from a hurt place. She's all bark and no bite—“ Joel scoffs. “She just about bit my head off last night. I might have said some things I shouldn’t have.” Hank has always been understanding and kind the entire time Joel has known him. “I know, we talked about it. She said I need new ranch hands and I told her I don’t trust anyone to run this ranch but you. Don’t worry, I won't let her run you off. I really thought college would set her straight, but she’s still got that stubborn attitude of hers. Just—keep yourself busy and she’ll give up eventually. Don’t be afraid to defend yourself, either. I’m not going to get mad at you for standing up to her.”

Its more of a relief than he thought it would be to hear Hank stick up for him. You must have ran home to tattle on him, but knowing Hank has his back eases the anxiousness built up in him from the night before. “Anyways…when you see her, maybe Tommy can take her to get her things until we can get her car out, so she can get off of everyones back.” It’s going to have to be Tommy—there's no way in hell Joel can handle being in a car with her by himself with his current situation. “Absolutely, thank you Hank.” The man heads out the door with a genuine smile. “Don’t be too late for breakfast! Louise made fresh jam.”

Breakfast sounds like a dream to his empty stomach, so he gets back to the task at hand so he can spare himself a few minutes of downtime to eat before he gets back to work. He steps back into the stall, runs his hand across the top of his horse's back and sighs. “Maybe I should cut her some slack, huh Cersei? You’re kind of a bitch, but you’re still my favorite girl.” The horse nickers at him, flicks her tail and waits patiently for him to get back to brushing out her winter coat.

———

It’s breakfast when he finally sets eyes on you again, but you aren’t in those damn shoes—you’re barefoot like that's somehow any better. You’re barefoot in what looks like an old pair of your pajamas, like you just rolled out of bed when it’s already eight in the morning. “Look what the cat dragged in.” You sneer at him a little when he sits down across from you with his plate. Tommy hasn’t made it inside yet and Hank and Louise are in the living-room after they’ve already finished eating.

“I’ve been up for hours, what were you doing? Cant learn to manage a ranch if you sleep until eight in the morning.” Joel feels like he has the upper hand, and based on the look on your face, you know it too. “That’s what I have you for, to do all the grunt shit I don’t want to. I slept like a baby.” Joel on the other hand tossed and turned all night, willing away his morning wood for hours until he finally gave in and wrapped his hand around himself in the dark of his room under his soft quilt, where your prying eyes couldn’t reach.

It’s the only damn thing keeping him from chubbing up in his jeans, looking at you across the table in a pair of sleep shorts that ride up and leave little to his imagination. He thinks about how easy it would be to pull them aside and slip his fingers through your lips—if he would be able to get you wet. It’s enough to get him excited, so he tries to find a way out before it becomes too big of a problem.

“Where are you going?” He looks down at his plate, devising a plan to leave with it, so he can at least finish his breakfast. “Uhm…I have a lot to do today, figured I would get back to it while the day is young.” You push your chair back and stand as well, Joel’s eyes must have a mind of their own because they track up your bare thighs to the bottom of your shorts that have ridden up so much the fabric is pulled tight along the outline of your center—goddamn he can fucking see your pussy. He makes a sharp sound, choking on the spit building up in his mouth as it waters.

“You aren’t doing anything until you get my car out, you hear me? I’m not walking around another second like this.” You gesture to yourself—Joel couldn’t agree more. You need to wear clothes that fit you if he wants to keep his dick to himself. “Tommy is going to take you, he’ll be in soon.” You shake your head at him with a huff. “No, I don’t want Tommy taking me, he’s not the one responsible for leaving my car in the snow. You are getting my car out.”

He wants to argue some more, but arguing with you makes him horny and the last thing he needs is to be that worked up in a car with you for an extended period of time.

“Fuck—alright, fine—give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you at the truck.”

It’s a shit ass excuse to run back to the cabin and spend ten minutes jacking off as fast as he can fucking manage so he can control himself in the truck. It’s a futile attempt to control the way Hanks spitfire of a daughter makes him hotter than the surface of the sun.

You are going to be the death of him.

#cowboy joel miller #cowboy joel #cowboy au #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #enemies to lovers #set in Wyoming #dbf joel miller

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mayajadewrites · 1 month

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I Wish I Hated You (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

story summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?

ao3

C H A P T E R E I G H T : T O M O R R O W

WARNING: explicit scenes in this chapter!! let me know what you think :)

Levi lead you into his living room that you were all too familiar with. His expression was... blank. You couldn't tell if he was sad, mad, or anything in between.

You sit on the couch opposite to the chair he's sitting in. "Levi, I-"

"You should know this," Levi looks down. "I'm not the best at... well, talking. My mother is someone who was... so special to me."

"Levi." You press your hand on top of his. "I'm here to listen."

Levi sighs as he sits back in his chair. "My mother and I grew up poor. Like, dirt poor." Levi started talking. It feels like it's been forever since you and him had an actual conversation instead of just arguing. "We were couch surfing and squatting in abandoned houses. Then, she got sick. We don't know what it was since we couldn't afford to go to a doctor. We couldn't even afford food. I was starving every day. Dreaming of bread." Levi looks down. "One day, she wouldn't even attempt to get out of bed. Or even talk to me. I remember her telling me about her brother, my uncle, and I had his phone number written down. I begged the corner store to let me use their phone, and thankfully they let me."

Your heart sinks thinking of how lonely Levi felt. How he was lacking basic needs.

"I called Kenny and he came and stayed with my mother during her last moments. I stood on the other side of her with my hand in hers. I remember her saying, 'Kenny, please take care of my Levi.' The pressure I was feeling from her hand suddenly just... disappeared. My mother's body was still there, but her soul was gone."

Tears start to well up in your eyes. Levi's eyes were glued to the floor as he spoke, his deep voice cracking when he spoke of the final moments with his mother.

"Then I went and lived with Kenny. Which... wasn't the best either. He fed me, but he wanted me to learn to fend for myself. I would cause fights in school and Kenny had to beg them to let me stay." Levi cleared his throat. "He didn't know how to be a parent. I don't blame him. His sister died and left behind me. My father, who the hell knows who he is - Kenny felt he had no choice. But he did have a choice. He could've just-"

"Levi, he could not just leave you."

"He could've."

"But he didn't. You're his nephew, I'm sure he saw you and saw some of himself."

"Well, when I turned 18, he left. He told me I was an adult now and I had to figure life out. I was being... well, to put it lightly, a delinquent when I met Erwin. He's a tall, well kept man and I wanted to steal from him. He looked like he had money so he was the perfect target. For whatever reason, he wanted to be my friend. He's been in my life ever since." Levi finally looked at you. "He opened his home to me. He fed me. He taught me the ways of being a business man."

You didn't know how deep Erwin and Levi's friendship was. They're bonded brothers.

His mother left, Kenny left - no wonder he likes to leave. Must be an Ackerman thing.

You stared into Levi's eyes - watching the storm brew. Your heart sank as you explored his face, your feelings for him resurfacing.

"Now you know why I am the way I am." Levi put his hands on his knees. "I don't blame you if you want to leave."

"Levi." You walk over to his chair, slowly sitting on his lap. "Do you want me to leave?" You gently wrap your arms around him.

"I think you want to -"

"Answer my question." You grab his chin, pulling his face towards you. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No." Levi shook his head. "I never want you to leave."

You felt like there was life brought back to you. The piece of your heart that broke off when you left Levi mended back to you.

"We have to start over then." You caress his face gently. You wanted to just hold him during this vulnerable moment. "Like, we're going on dates. Almost like we were never together."

"Hm?" Levi tilted his head. "But we did date... for 2 years."

"Levi. Do you want to make this work or no?"

"I do."

"Then we're starting over. I don't want us to jump back into this and make the same mistakes."

Levi nods, letting his hand rest on your thigh. "Are you sure you don't want to leave? I'm giving you an out."

"Levi Ackerman." Theres attitude in your voice. "If I wanted to leave, I would. I have before - remember?"

"I'm sorry I made you leave."

"Shhh." You pull Levi into your chest, letting him lean on you. You felt his eyelashes flutter on your skin as he closed his eyes. His breath is slow and you know he's listening to your heartbeat. He's always loved cuddling in your chest and feeling your beating heart. Levi starts to bury his face in your breasts, his hands traveling up to your waist.

"Hey," You giggle as Levi grabs your left breast with his large hand. "Levi, this isn't the right time to be-"

"Sh." Levi demanded. His fingers pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your plump breasts. They bounced as they were released from the captivity of your shirt and Levi is mesmerized. He brought his lips to your right tit, sucking on your skin roughly as he squeezed the other. You throw your head back at the contact. Levi has always loved your chest and he likes to take his time there when he can.

"This isn't a part of starting over." You breathe.

"We can start over tomorrow." Levi mumbled as he unclipped your bra without looking. His mouth attached to your nipple, sucking it gently. You feel the wetness in your pants already as Levi sucks, bites, and licks all over your tits.

Levi sits you on the chair, his large hands trailing down your upper body to the buttons of your jeans. He's on his knees now as he pulls your pants off, throwing them across the room. "My favorites." Levi hums at the sight of your black lace panties. "Too bad they're coming off." Levi almost rips the panties off of you, revealing your soaked pussy.

He marvels for a moment, watching your arousal leak from you. You throw your head back as your core starts to throb. "Levi-" He cuts you off by inserting his tongue inside you. You gasp as you feel his tongue exploring your pussy, finding your clit soon after. Levi wraps his hands around your thighs as he devours you, his lips squelching against your core.

Levi wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as he inserts two fingers into you. You bury your hands in his hair, pushing his face farther into you. You felt him smile as you pulled on his hair, something he's always loved. He pumped his fingers in and out of you quickly while his mouth was solely focused on your clit.

"I could eat this pussy all day." Levi hummed, the vibration from his words only adding to your pleasure. "This pretty little pussy."

"Levi." You moan, wrapping your legs around him as your toes begin to curl.

"I love when you moan my name." His fingers started to pump faster as your walls began to pulsate. "Can you come on my fingers, princess?"

You nod silently as you feel the high quickly approaching. Your chest feels tight as the world begins to fade away, leaving only you and Levi. His tongue lapped your dripping arousal as you reached your high. Levi doesn't stop though, he keeps sucking on your clit until he wants to be done. You came on his fingers, his mouth - practically his entire face.

"Levi, I need you inside of me." You whine.

"You want my cock inside of you, my princess?"

"God, yes." You nod. Levi's mouth leaves your pussy and he picks you up and lays you on the couch gently. His shirt is off quickly, along with his belt and pants.

You watch his cock spring out of his pants. Every time you see it, you're mesmerized.

"Are you sure?"

"We'll start over tomorrow." You nod a Levi's arms are on either side of you. You feel the tip of his cock at your slit, easily sliding in due to your arousal. Levi lets out a husky moan as he feels your gummy walls wrapping around his cock.

"You were made for me." Levi starts thrusting into you. "This pussy fits me so perfectly."

"Baby, it's all yours." You stare into Levi's eyes. He presses his lips to yours roughly, leaving sloppy kisses as he thrusts inside you faster. You wrap your arms around his neck as he watches his length disappear inside of you, stretching your walls. You'll never get used to his size, no matter how many times you fuck.

"Princess, I need you to come again. Before me." Levi grunted as he slammed into you. He attaches his lips to the side of your neck, biting and sucking until your skin is purple. He then brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing it gently.

You throw your head back, feeling your walls pulsate once again. Levi's thrusts start to become uneven as he feels you grip him, which means he's close.

"I'm not coming before you." Levi rubs circles on your clit. Your toes curl as Levi is almost overstimulating you - but that high comes back.

"Levi." You practically yell as the hardest high of your life hits you. You see stars as Levi slams into you again and again.

"Where should I come?" Levi whispered.

"Inside." You whisper in his ear, which causes him to lose all the control he had left. He coats your insides with him as he comes, gripping your hips tightly. Levi fills you up with his cum and somehow there is still more.

Levi pulled out slowly and you whine at the now void. He pulls his pants on and grabbing a towel from his hallway closet and helping you clean up.

"So... tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." You press your lips to his gently, letting your worries melt away.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan

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wonbons · 6 months

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genre: probably angst!

summary: wonbin likes you, but anton is bored so he takes the wrong turn and decides to compete with wonbin for fun.

pairings: wonbin x reader, anton x reader

warnings: reader being played, miscommunication

posted on ao3!

note: villain!anton because why not??? btw might make a part 2 for anton's pov but idk! MY FIRST FIC sorry if i made any grammar mistake or typo. enjoyyyy!

—

Wonbin is such an ideal guy. Well, people have preferences, but at least you think he’s one hell of a deal.

I mean, who could blame you? Magnetism looks, cool demeanor, reserved. That's his usual suit, he's different with you. He’s all warm and soft, maybe if you tell him to jump off a cliff, he would do it without any question.

It’s like he has no flaw at all!

Well, maybe one…

People are so obsessed with him. You realized how the girls went crazy over him. One thing that you fail to realize is he’s actually in a very toxic environment. Wonbin couldn’t tell you about it, he doesn’t want to worry you.

He always dislikes Anton, but nobody will believe him if he says Anton is actually evil.

Anton, with his friendly and soft voice, who would actually believe it if Wonbin told them about Anton being a copycat and never leaving Wonbin alone?

You actually would believe him.

Only if he tells you.

Now, he is very bothered.

Anton is acting friendly towards you, it’s making Wonbin activate his alert mode. This is weird. There must be a plan behind that friendliness.

“Wonbin! You’re here!” You smile brightly when you see your soon-to-be boyfriend.

“Hey, sorry I took so long.”

“It’s okay! You didn’t tell me Anton is your friend!” You chuckled.

Wonbin faked a smile, you could tell… but you chose to brush it away.

At least for now.

“Yes, our parents are best friends.” Wonbin puts his arm around you. “Let’s go.”

“Goodbye, Anton!” You waved at Anton.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Anton smiles warmly toward you.

Wonbin waves at Anton and then walks you to his car. He turns his head one more time to check if Anton is still there.

Well, he is.

With a sly smirk that makes Wonbin want to commit murder.

What is wrong with that guy?

Wonbin is definitely panicking inside.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked him. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing…” His smile reassured you that he’s fine. “Let’s go.”

Well, those were a few months ago.

Now, Wonbin is sitting on the floor. Back leaning against his bed. His eyes are still swollen due to the crying sessions he had today. He kept looking at your picture. He really misses your smile. How he wished he could go back in time and tell you exactly why he hates Anton to his bone.

Wonbin decided to send you a few voice notes. He added a note to open it when you’re all alone.

He throws his phone to the coffee table across from him. Luckily, it doesn’t break. He sips his nth glass of whiskey today. Lord knows he hates to touch alcoholic drinks, but the pain is just too much to bear in sober mode.

Wonbin wished the star so you could come back to him, that this is not too late and Anton screw something up.

—

“Anton, I’m gonna take a shower.” You said while tying your hair into a bun.

“Okay, just call my name if you need anything.”

“Yessir!” You happily walk into the bathroom. A relaxing shower is our favorite thing after an amazing date, right?

You turn on the shower. The warm water is a stress relief for sure! You rethink your day. Today is incredibly great. You spent a full day with Anton at the amusement park. Closing it with a kiss on the Ferris wheel while watching the sunset too… feels like a movie!

You’re so happy! The relationship felt a bit rushed though… or maybe it’s just an effect from Wonbin. Since he left you hanging for so long. It’s alright now! You have Anton.

You palm your forehead when you realize you forgot to bring your favorite soap with you. Well, the happiness makes you kind of forgetful. It happens.

You don’t turn off the shower, because you put your body care pouch near the bathroom door, if you remember well…

You open the door slowly and then close it again. You search your body care pouch and grab your favorite body wash. When you stand up, you realize that Anton is nowhere to be seen.

You heard a voice coming from the balcony. The door is open, Anton must be there. At first, you’re not really curious about what is he doing there.

But, then… you heard him mentioning your name. You thought he was calling for you, so you walk toward the balcony.

However, you immediately pause when you heard his next sentence.

“Well, yes, I only care about her because I want to beat Wonbin. What else?”

You froze.

He’s on his phone with lord knows who.

“I mean, it’s not my fault if she chose me. That’s on her AND Wonbin.” He laughed.

“Well, I am winning. I’m always winning.”

You hold your tears. You couldn’t believe this.

Is it all fake? His affection? His efforts? His smiles?

The kiss? It’s all just… a game?

You go back to the bathroom to finish your shower. After you’re done with your quick shower, you get ready and pack your things. You hurriedly put on your shoes with tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N? You’re done—wait, where are you going?” Anton asked with a warm smile. A smile that you no longer trust anymore.

“Anywhere but here.” You give him a cold shoulder.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’m wrong. It is a wrong choice to choose you over Wonbin.” You snapped. “Gosh, why am I so stupid?” You laughed at yourself.

“No, Y/N you must hear the full call. Here, I always record my calls—”

“No, Anton. We’re done.” You rush to the door. “Thank you for the lies.”

“Y/N, no! I can explain, please!” You slammed your door behind you while wiping your tears away. You take a taxi and get into the cab just in time before Anton can chase you.

“Where to, Miss?” The driver asked.

“I don’t know, just drive first.”

“Alright, I have a tissue right there if you need it.” The driver is so understanding. You are so thankful for that.

You open your phone and see some notifications from Wonbin. You deleted his number, but you remember it.

You open the chat and see some voice notes. With a note at the end, ‘listen to this when you’re alone please’.

Well, your intuition tells you to play all the voice notes now.

“Y/N… I’m sorry I didn’t make a fast move… sorry I took too much time…”

“Y/N, there’s one thing that I haven’t told you about Anton. Well… he is a hater of mine… he’s not actually my friend… I really wanted to tell you that he never leaves me alone, he always copies the stuff I did and all… I’m actually so irritated by him, but no one would believe me… I don’t know what he’s telling you. He’s really good at brainwashing, he ruined a few of my friendships too…”

“I have a feeling that he’s only chasing you so he could beat me… he loves to win at this non-existent competition… I really hope his feelings toward you are genuine, Y/N…”

“You know where to come back if he does you wrong, though…”

“I love you, Y/N… I’m sorry.”

You hold your sob now. All that you can feel is regret. Pain. Guilty. You did him wrong. Why are you so stupid? Why would you choose Anton over Wonbin?

“Emerald Tower, please.” You try your best to contain yourself.

“Well, we’re here then.” The driver pulls over to the right.

“Thank you.” You give him 50 bucks and get out of the car when one of the employees opens the door for you.

“Miss, this is too much.”

“That’s for your kindness. Thank you.” You try to form a smile and hurriedly rush to the elevator.

“Miss!” You could hear the driver call you when you entered the lobby.

“What floor, Miss?”

“28.” You smiled and wiped your tears away.

You wait in silence. Waiting for the elevator door to open. When it reaches the 28th floor, you smile at the employee and walk out to the left.

You are now in front of Wonbin’s apartment door. You call him and to your surprise, he immediately answers.

“Hello?”

“I’m outside.” You said softly.

Wonbin immediately hangs up. After a few seconds, you heard a thumping sound walking closer to the door.

Wonbin opened the door and let you in without any hesitation.

You drop your bag and hug him after he closes the door behind him.

You finally let out your sobs in his embrace. “I’m sorry-I’m sorry-I’m sorry, Wonbin. I’m sorry.”

He hugs you tightly and sobs with you.

“Wonbin, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

“Wonbin, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Wonbin breaks the hug to stare at your face. It hurts seeing you crying like this, he cups your face and wipes your tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry I was indecisive.”

“Wonbin, I’m so—” He pulls you in for a kiss before you could say any apologies again.

“Please be mine, I know I’m so late. I’m so dumb for wasting your time. But, please be mine. Give me a chance to fix it.”

“Wonbin…” You collect yourself together. “You’re all that I need.”

Wonbin smiles at you warmly. He gives your forehead a long peck. His favorite form of showing affection to you.

“I love you, Y/N.” Wonbin caress your cheek. “I will always do.”

—

#riize angst #anton angst #wonbin angst #riize imagines #riize #riize anton #riize wonbin #riize x reader #riize fics

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sidekick-hero · 7 months

Text

Until I found you

(steddie | 1.5k | mature | AO3 | Collection with wedding fics)

My dearest @thefreakandthehair, you were the first person I really interacted with in this fandom and your Winter Challenge was the reason I wrote my very first ST fanfic. You have a special place in my heart Lex and I am so glad, that I and all the others, were able to show you how much you mean to us with our wedding gifts.

I wish you and Billiam a life filled with love and happiness and the knowledge that you found something special within each other 💜

Most of the time, Eddie doesn’t mind being poor. Hell, he grew up with no money to his name, and as with so many things, you can't really miss what you've never had.

But sometimes he wishes that he wasn't.

Not even for himself, but for Steve. Because Steve? Steve knows what he's missing.

Before he came out to his parents, involuntarily, when they caught them making out on the floor of their living room, and they kicked him out of their house and their family, Steve had money. He could buy anything he wanted and never had to worry about affording rent and groceries.

Now, Eddie and Steve were living together in a small but cozy apartment in Indianapolis with their cats, Merry and Pippin. Steve was studying to be an EMT, and Eddie was working as a bartender where his band played regularly. They got by just fine, even though most of their furniture was second-hand, and they went grocery shopping on a weekly budget.

Their life was good. Perfect, in fact, if you asked Eddie. They had everything they needed, especially each other, which was the most important thing, a fact Steve never tired of reminding him of.

But that never stopped Eddie from wanting to give Steve more. Steve deserved the world and Eddie hated that he couldn't give it to him. He couldn't even give him the honeymoon he deserved.

If he's honest, he still can't believe Steve said yes. Especially after Eddie proposed at the worst possible time. Not during sex, which would have been bad, but not the worst. No, he proposed during a fight.

Steve was yelling at him, probably about something inane because he was tired and frustrated at the time, Eddie doesn’t even remember. And all he could think was that he would do anything to have Steve yell at him and smile at him and kiss him and tease him for the rest of his life.

"If you don't care, fine, but some of us —"

"Marry me."

"What - are you kidding me?"

"No, I have never been more serious in my life. Marry me, Steve."

"Are you asking me to marry you so I’ll stop yelling at you? Because I won't."

"Oh, I know. You don't have to. Just say yes before you go on?"

Steve had stopped yelling at him after that, too busy kissing him. They fucked right there on their kitchen floor, and Steve bitched about it the whole next day when his knees hurt. It was perfect.

Eddie wants their honeymoon to be just as perfect. But even though his uncle pitched in as much as he could, their wedding ate up what little savings they had. So instead of going to a beach somewhere and enjoying the sight of his husband in nothing but his swim trunks and lathering his gorgeous skin in sunscreen, they stayed home.

"Come on, it's not that bad. You know us. We wouldn't have left the hotel room anyway." Steve tries to cheer him up as Eddie sulks on their bed, wiggling his eyebrows in the way he knows makes Eddie laugh every time. It has the desired effect when Eddie snorts, but the thought of letting Steve down still lingers on his mind.

"Seriously, Eds. I know we don't have much right now, but we can always go on vacation together later. Right now, I really want to enjoy some quality time with my husband. So could you please tell him to stop moping?"

It's said with a teasing smile, so Eddie knows that Steve isn't really annoyed with him. But he's right, this is their honeymoon, even if they have to spend it at home. He shouldn't sit around and mope. He's failing at being a husband. He should probably prepare himself for the inevitable moment when Steve realizes that too and asks him for a divorce. Maybe they can at least stay friends. The thought hurts, a pang in his chest that he knows has nothing on how much the real thing would hurt. Like a supernova imploding in his chest, a black hole that would suck the life out of him. But he would try anyway. Not right away, but maybe someday, because Eddie can't imagine a life without Steve in it, even if it won't be the way he hoped it would be —

"I see you spiraling from here, Eddie."

Steve's voice is soft, as is his touch, as he cups Eddie's cheek with the palm of his hand. When Eddie looks up into his eyes, they are soft as well, filled with nothing but love. They look exactly the same as they did when Steve said "I do.” Just before he kissed Eddie with so much tenderness that Eddie could feel it in his toes.

"I just want to make you happy, Stevie. I don't want to disappoint you."

It's painfully honest, but they both worked hard at being honest with each other. Even when they screw up or when they think it might hurt the other. Honesty is the foundation on which they built their relationship, along with trust, respect, and, of course, love. And fantastic sex.

Steve smiles at him, and something about the look on his face actually brings tears to Eddie's eyes and his heart clenches in his chest. Fuck. He never thought you could love someone so much that it physically hurts until he met Steve. "I know, baby. I know. Wanna know a secret?"

Eddie hums and presses a small kiss to Steve's palm. Steve's thumb reaches up to gently stroke his cheekbones, wiping away the wetness that has begun to gather. "You make me happy every day in so many ways."

Steve kisses the tender skin under Eddie's eye, first left, then right. "When I wake up in the morning, way before you, sleepyhead, and you always kiss me, even when you're not awake yet."

He kisses Eddie's nose next, adding a little nip to the tip that makes Eddie smile. "When you text me throughout the day, just to share your thoughts and hear mine. Just to show me you were thinking about me."

Next, Steve's lips find Eddie's forehead, lingering, pressing his love into Eddie's skin, wanting it to get through Eddie's thick skull. "When you come home after a long shift, tiptoeing through the apartment, and making a ruckus anyway because you couldn't be quiet to save your life. And you slide into bed next to me, wrap me up in your arms, kiss the side of my face, and tell me you love me.”

Finally, Steve kisses him on the lips, first taking his upper lip between his own, then his lower, before slowly dragging his tongue along the seam. Eddie opens his mouth and Steve's tongue slips in, just like that, just a tease, not as a prelude to anything, but because he can. Because what's Eddie's is his and what's Steve's is Eddie's. Everything he has and everything he is belongs to Steve. His husband.

"You made me the happiest man in the world when you asked me to marry you. When you said yes in front of our friends, our family." Steve whispers in the minimal space between their lips, and Eddie sniffles, too happy to be embarrassed.

"I love you, Stevie. So goddamn much." Another kiss, as gentle as the last.

Steve pulls away, both hands cupping Eddie's face, his thumbs wiping away the last of the tears. "I love you too. So how about we start with the whole honeymoon business, huh?"

"What do you have in mind?"

Steve's smile is sweet, innocent, but Eddie knows his husband well enough to see the gleam in his eyes. He's in for a treat, his stomach fluttering in anticipation.

"Well," Steve begins, letting go of Eddie's face to tap his chin, "I thought we'd take our mattress into the living room, put it in front of the TV and put on Lord of the Rings. Extended Edition." The words sound like music to his ears, the perfect way to spend the day in his book, but it's hardly a gift for the two of them.

Steve is not finished, however. "That's 686 minutes. Wanna show me how many times you can make me come in 11 hours?"

Standing up so fast he almost knocks Steve over, Eddie pulls Steve into a deep, heated kiss. "Marry me, Steve."

Steve laughs. "I already did, stupid. I take it you like the idea?"

"I love it. Almost as much as you." They kiss again, unable to keep their hands off each other.

Eddie wonders if the impromptu blowjob that follows on their bed can be added to the final count at the end of the day. If so, it's nine times. Not bad at all, if he says so himself.

Steve seems to agree as they cuddle on the couch, both naked, satiated and sleepy, their legs intertwined and Steve's head resting on Eddie's chest, their mattress beyond saving ("Good thing the new one gets delivered tomorrow.").

"Are you happy, Stevie?"

"Never been happier in my life, Mr. Munson-Harrington."

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #check out all the other great ficlets in the AO3 collection everyone outdid themselve for our dearest Lex

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

Love is Easy (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Established Relationship Warnings: Christopher is Intense™ but so is the MC so i guess they’re even, pet names, graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut), sickly sweet i think you might get cavities if you’re a hopeless romantic. gentle reminder that Chris’ girl is curvy/chubby/thick/however you wanna call it :) Word Count: ~10k | AO3 Summary: After two years of living among werewolves, of being an important member of their pack, you finally get to partake in one of their most important activities: their ‘monthly camping trip’. [This story is an instalment of my WereRoomies series].

Author’s Note: when i think i’m over them, i just circle back to Chris and his girl. i wanted to give some depth to their relationship, so i guess here this is ! the title of this piece comes from McFly’s Love is Easy, a song i feel could’ve had this werewolf!Chris having an epiphany.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: possessiveness · intercrural (four fics later i realise i’ve inadvertently given this man a thigh kink, oops) · oral [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie · typical roughness that comes with having intercourse with a full alpha werewolf I GUESS

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Becoming one of the main pillars of a pack of werewolves was something you never truly expected to happen in your life.

Two years ago you didn’t even know werewolves existed, you thought it was all a mix of myths and legends, all part of the supernatural and fantasy genres in books and media. Which was why, when you moved to this building, you would’ve never guessed you were moving into a werewolf den. You couldn’t have even imagined that the warm, welcoming man looking for a roommate was a werewolf himself.

As soon as you found out of their condition, though, it was as if a switch flipped, and suddenly you were helping all these people living in this place, providing emotional support when needed, giving advice, or simply being there for them when they needed you. Hell, you even started coordinating the communal finances of the entire pack. All of a sudden these seven neighbours of yours started calling you mother–mostly in what you thought was a joking manner–and when you asked your roommate about it at the time, he had simply blushed a bit and explained to you that they started to see you as the ‘Pack Parent’, mostly because of the support you always gave them, because you were always there for them.

Your roommate, Chris, obviously failed to mention that the other reason for them to start calling you that was because he, the alpha of their pack, was harbouring a crush on you, so his packmates liked to tease him for it, alluding to the fact that, if you were to become romantically involved with him, you would indeed be in the position of being their pack’s ‘mum’.

Although you were well aware of the role you were filling in, and what it typically meant, you fell naturally into the position due to your own personality traits–your need to help those close to you, your emotional maturity, to name a couple–you never really thought of what that could or would mean for Chris and you. Even if you were great at helping others with their problems, you were a bit dense with things that involved you directly, like Chris’ crush on you, which, looking in retrospect, was really obvious–just like your crush on him was, but he also didn’t seem to pick up on it at the time.

It took around a year of you living with him, of you being an important member of his pack of werewolves, for you both to finally become A Thing. And even then, the way you got together wasn’t exactly… Conventional. One ovulation cycle had unexpectedly sent your dear roommate into his rut, and in the process, you somehow ended up helping him through it by, essentially, letting him fuck you silly for days on end. You certainly skipped a few steps at the beginning, but your relationship with Chris was smooth sailing after that.

Sure, he still got on your nerves sometimes, just like he used to do when you were just roommates; silly things like the way he left the spice containers misplaced after cooking, or the fact that he couldn’t leave the goddamn toilet lid closed, or how he would often forget to lock the door at night–just how you knew he just couldn’t stand the way you loaded laundry. In fact, your only major disagreement since your relationship started happened because you just couldn’t stand the fact that he wouldn’t take care of himself as much as he should.

Chris was a grown man, he led his pack of misfits almost flawlessly, and he had a stable job as a software engineer that he was dedicated to. Maybe a bit too much. Chris was so good at his job and at taking care of the people around him that he would often forget to fulfil his basic needs, like keeping hydrated and eating proper meals at appropriate times, something that you couldn’t help but worry about constantly.

Contrary to what your place within the pack might lead people to believe, you weren’t there to mother your grown-ass werewolf boyfriend, so after one too many texts of ‘oh yea forgot to have lunch lol’ you just exploded–maybe a bit too dramatically, you’d admit, considering it wasn’t something he was doing on purpose–the entire thing leading to that only major argument you’d had with him as of yet.

At the time, once both of you had calmed down, you simply apologised for the way in which you delivered your message, and Chris did acknowledge the fact that, yes, he wasn’t taking care of himself as he should, but he had stressed the fact that he really didn’t expect you to mother him in any way. And to his credit, he did get a bit better with his self-sabotaging habits–emphasis on a bit, but he was certainly trying his best.

Other than that, though, everything was great. You’d never truly had such a balanced, healthy relationship before, which was kind of funny, considering your boyfriend was, in essence, a supernatural being. A fact that somehow didn’t bother you in the slightest, but it did bring some challenges, mostly because, since you were but a mere human, there were many behaviours or traditions you simply didn’t understand from the get-go, so you had to educate yourself as much as you could. Which was something you had already been doing since you were only roommates, something that you were sure you would have to continue doing for as long as you lived among his kind, and, by the time you neared your two year mark living at their den, you honestly didn’t think you’d ever leave.

Sometimes, though, you did worry about the fact that you weren’t exactly like Chris and his friends. That worry grew a bit the more you realised how important you had become to them, and how important they had become to you. There was nothing that you wanted more than to do well at the role that you had taken in the pack, and since you became the pack apha’s partner, there was something you hadn’t gotten around to do, and it was bothering you–even when the rest never really said anything on the matter.

“You think I can go with you guys this time?” The entire time you had been lying on this sofa with your boyfriend you had been building up the courage to ask that question, and now that it was out, you certainly felt a bit relieved.

“To Disney?” Chris chuckled, looking away from the TV currently playing an ad for Disneyland to look at you instead.

“No”, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Removing yourself from Chris’ embrace, you sat straighter, straddling him as you settled your hands on his chest, looking down at him. “Wanna join you on your monthly trip”.

Once a month, when there was going to be a full moon, Chris and his pack went on a trip to the woods–it was their ‘monthly camping trip’, as they called it. They would usually be gone for a couple of days, a few at most, and whenever they came back they always looked refreshed, invigorated. Chris had explained to you that basically all they did was go for a run through the woods, they’d simply shift into their wolf forms and run for a few hours.

‘It helps greatly to relieve stress, especially the stress induced by just… You know, existing as both a human and a wolf. That’s why we always come back looking so relaxed. Plus, the moon’s just… Can’t explain it but running under the moonlight feels just so freeing. Especially when it’s full’, Chris had told you once when you were still just roommates, and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

“Baby…” Chris’ hands sneaked under the hem of your pyjama shorts to softly caress the skin of your thighs. “You know it can be… Dangerous. We can get very, uh… Animalistic. Which is why we’ve never taken a human to one of our trips”.

“I know…” Your fingers lightly tapped on Chris’ chest, and your eyes moved away from his to stare at the movement. “But… Don’t you think it’s weird that I’ve never gone on one of your trips?”

Removing his hands from under your shorts, Chris cupped your rear, lifting you up just enough so he could sit up and place you back on his lap, settling his hands on your lower back as he looked at you. “Why would I think it’s weird?”

“I mean… We’ve been together for a while now, and I’ve been living here with you guys for even more than that”, placing your arms around Chris’ neck, you wiggled a bit, crossing your ankles behind him once you found a more comfortable position to sit on his lap. “Kinda feels like… Like I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing, you know?”

“What do you think you’re supposed to be doing, pretty?” The confusion was clear in Chris’ eyes, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Helping you out”, you replied simply, and you literally saw the moment your words started to really make sense in Chris’ brain with the shift in his eyes, that look of confusion turning to a glint of concern almost immediately.

“Baby, it’s not something you have to do. You know that, right? You… Always help out in many other ways”, Chris pulled you further into his lap, almost pressing his chest to yours. “In many, many, less dangerous ways. Hell, you already practically plan the entire thing beforehand…”

“But I want to go. Want to be there for you guys”, moving your hand away from where it was resting on his shoulder, you reached to push his fringe out of his eyes. “Besides, I trust you guys. You know that”.

“Babe…” Chris sighed, taking a hold of your hand, moving it away from his face for his thumb to softly caress your knuckles. “I know you trust us, but… This is… We’re a bit different from our day to day selves”.

“At least think about it”, you squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. “Besides, no offence, babe, but I’ve literally let you fuck me like an animal when you’re deep into your rut, how can it be any different?”

Chris laughed at that, a bit incredulous, and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the sight of his dimples showing up. “Fair point, I guess”, leaning in, Chris pressed a soft kiss on your lips, pulling away after, just enough to look you in the eyes as he spoke, but keeping his chest pressed to yours. “Alright, pretty baby. Let me think about it, okay? Need to… Consider some logistics. Make sure it’s safe for you, yeah?”

You just gave him a smile in response before you leaned in to kiss him, mumbling a soft ‘okay’ against his lips.

“No”, Chris said firmly, leaning on the backrest of the dining chair as he crossed his arms and looked Minho dead in the eyes.

“Yes”, Minho replied simply, leaning back on his chair as well, matching Chris’ stance.

“Minho, no”, Chris repeated, slightly exasperated.

“Guys–” Changbin tried to speak, but Chris cut him off.

“Changbin, no”.

“Love, it’s only fair…” You couldn’t help but chime in, giving him an apologetic smile when he shot you a pained look.

Chris, Changbin, Minho, and you were sitting on your dining table, planning the upcoming trip to the woods, just like you did every month. Typically, you’d simply plan out the basics–fresh changes of clothes, clean bedsheets, whether they’d take groceries or fully prepared meals, anything and everything they might need… Today, part of the topic of discussion was your attendance to the trip.

“But it’s not the same”, Chris looked at the three of you with his brows furrowed in concern. “You going there is already enough human presence, adding another–”

“It’s only fair, she said it herself”, Minho interrupted, pointing at you. “I’ve asked a million times and you’ve never let me bring my friend because she’s human”, he turned to you then. “If we’re taking you, then we’re taking her, too. Both humans or none. No offence”.

Bringing your hands up, you simply added a, “none taken. I do think it’s only fair”.

Chris groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Crossing his arms again he looked at Changbin, almost pleading, to which Changbin just gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug.

It wasn’t like Chris needed you all to agree. In fact, if he put his foot down for real you’d probably have to comply, but that wasn’t how Chris led his pack. He liked to make things fair, to take his packmate’s opinions into consideration, even when they went against what he himself wanted to do, and that was especially true when it came to Changbin, Minho, and you.

Chris was quiet for a while, the rest of you as well, just waiting for the Pack Alpha to make his decision. Staring at the table, Chris drummed his fingers on the surface as he pondered, but ultimately, he heaved a sigh, looking straight at Minho. “If she comes, you do know she’s your full responsibility, right?”

“I do know. Never have I not thought that”.

“If anything happens to her–”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to her”, Minho was really confident in his statement, and you honestly didn’t doubt for one second that Minho would do his best to protect his friend. He always did, she’d been coming to the den since even before you moved in, and based on what you knew about their friendship, you were sure Minho would do his best to take care of her.

Chris looked at Minho for a few moments, until finally, he took a deep breath, sitting straighter on his chair only to exhale, leaning his elbows on the table. “Fine. She can come”.

Minho simply gave Chris a smile, a genuine one. Funnily enough, Chris didn’t sound particularly defeated or annoyed at all, he hardly ever did with these things, you knew he was probably just concerned for her safety, just like he was concerned for yours. Prior to your ‘meeting’ today, he’d finally told you you could come, and honestly you couldn’t have been more excited when the words came out of his mouth, but he did tell you of his ‘contingency plan’, as he called it.

‘Checked the blueprints of the house. Apparently my grandparents had added reinforced doors to the basement, so if anything doesn’t go as planned, that’s where you’ll go, okay?’ Chris had told you earlier, and he was now just telling the same thing to Changbin and Minho.

“We’ll get some wolfsbane, too. Just in case”, Chris finished, and your eyes almost bulged out of your skull.

“Christopher, we’re not getting wolfsbane!”

“Just a bit! And as a last resource”, Chris laid his hand on top of yours, trying to soothe your worries–a low tactic, knowing that having his hands on you in one way or another could certainly help persuade you.

So you turned to Changbin and Minho. Minho just shrugged, “I’m not fond of the idea. I wouldn’t like to die from wolfsbane poisoning if I’m honest…”

Changbin looked at the three of you, and then sighed. “Honestly? Chris, I think you’re being a bit dramatic… But if it makes you feel better I’m not opposed to it. Trust you enough to not kill our entire pack with it”.

So Chris turned back to look at you, giving you his best puppy eyes, adding a pout for good measure, and you couldn’t help but scoff a chuckle, slightly incredulous. “Fine, if that makes you feel better, baby, bring the deadly plant…”

“It’d be just a bit, promise. Just enough to knock us out, but not kill us in the process”.

And the smile he gave you after that honestly made you trust him completely.

With Chris’, Changbin’s, and Minho’s cars filled to the brim with your supplies, and distributing the rest of the pack members between the three vehicles, you all made your way to the woods, to the property Chris’ grandparents left him in their will. When you found out about that house, and how big it was, you had asked Chris why they decided to move to their current den instead of going to live there, out of curiosity more than anything.

‘It’s too far away from the city. We’ve got our lives out here already, you know? Plus, back when we started the pack the place wasn’t even mine, and the rooms are too close together, we’d hardly get any privacy’, he’d told you back then, and it sounded fairly reasonable to you. Especially the privacy part… Even though they were all essentially family and they loved each other deeply, each member of the pack had distinct personalities of their own, each one with their own oddities that could clash with one another when having to share their space for long periods of time, and if it happened to Chris and you sometimes, you figured it would be the same between them as well.

Jeongin and Jisung had taken the back seat of Chris’ car, so they kept the conversation flowing with you as Chris kept his concentration on the road, since he didn’t like to talk much while he was driving. Occasionally, though, Chris would move his hand from the gear lever to your thigh, mindlessly caressing your skin or squeezing the flesh lightly, only removing it whenever he had to change gears. Eventually, Jisung noticed, and, in good Jisung fashion, he just couldn’t keep quiet about it.

“Damn it, Christopher. You never hold my thigh when I’m your co-pilot”, the pout was audible in his voice, and it made you laugh.

Chris just chuckled as he looked at Jisung through the rearview mirror, offering a “missed your chance, sweetcheeks. Got my baby here now just for that”, which had you chuckling.

“Want me to hold your thigh?” Jeongin had a devilish smile on his lips, reaching for Jisung only for him to swat his hand away.

“Don’t you dare touch me with your death grip, Yang Jeongin!”

“C’mon! Just a squeeze!”

“Get off!”

Jeongin and Jisung kept jostling for what was left of the road trip, Jeongin would try to get his hands on Jisung, and Jisung would immediately push his hand away. ‘But I thought you wanted to be touched, Jisung!’ Jeongin would tease, and Jisung would swear loudly and allege ‘I don’t want to lose circulation on my thigh, Jeongin! You’ve gotten way too strong, you might kill me one of these days…’ just for Jeongin to reply ‘I’m not strong, babes, you’re just fucking weak’, all as you laughed at their antics and Chris smiled fondly any time he looked at them through the rearview mirror.

As soon as you all made it to the house in the woods, it all became a blur of unpacking and settling things in their place, making sure everything was ready for the evening when the moon would rise and the pack would go on their run. You knew the schedule better than you knew the back of your hand, considering you prepared the entire thing with Chris, Changbin, and Minho every month.

So, with enough water and food for an army set in the kitchen for when they came back, and nine robes neatly stacked on a table in the back porch of the house, the pack finally made their way to the backyard–now with the addition of Minho’s best friend and you–and they started stretching and getting naked just as the sun finally set.

“We’ll be gone for a few hours…” Chris cradled your face in his hands, softly running his thumbs on your cheeks as you rested your hands on his bare–and incredibly warm–chest. “Remember, if anything weird happens when we’re back–”

“I’ll take Minho’s friend and go to the basement. I know, baby”, you pressed a brief kiss on Chris’ lips. Earlier, he had shown you the way to the basement, and how to close the reinforced doors securely in place just in case, but you could still see the worry in his eyes as he looked at you right now. “It’ll be fine, babe. I’m sure”.

Taking in a deep breath, Chris just looked into your eyes, you were going to reassure him again, to tell him nothing would happen, but suddenly you saw how his eyes started to change colour, from that brown you knew so well to a bright golden. They were essentially glowing, and you blinked a few times, feeling all your attention pulled to them as he continued to look at you.

Chris noticed your reaction, and he simply gave you a small smile. “It’s time, pretty baby…” Letting go of your face, Chris took a few steps back away from you, putting enough distance between you two as he started to shift. You’d seen Chris shift a handful of times, but you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the unpleasant pops and cracks coming from his body as he did. In less than a minute, where your boyfriend used to be, there was the biggest wolf you’d ever seen, almost as big as you, and even though logically you should’ve felt intimidated by the sight, you couldn’t bring yourself to, not when you felt so safe with this beast in front of you just looking at you.

As soon as Chris had fully shifted, you walked closer, bringing your hand to his head so you could pet him, and Chris simply nuzzled your hand as you did. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, booping his nose immediately after–almost as if he wasn’t the biggest predator you’d ever encountered. “Be safe out there, my big bad wolf, hm?”

Chris just huffed in response, in what you assumed was his way to reassure you as well. After giving your wrist one final affectionate lick, he turned around, walking past Minho’s friend to make his way towards the edge of the woods, where the rest of his pack were already waiting for him.

You walked forward so you could stand next to Minho’s friend, just watching Chris pace a bit as he took in the sight of the other wolves. Once he seemed to be satisfied with their positions, he howled, and the sound had you shivering, even more so as the rest of the pack started to howl as well. It was imposing, really, hearing all of them in their most primal state. But even though you were just a human, it all sounded so familiar to you, not really that different from when they were talking extra loud to each other, which was honestly kind of weird–and amusing–considering they weren’t talking at all, at least not in human language.

Finally, Chris turned back towards the woods and took off, the other eight wolves following right after. As soon as they were gone, you turned to Minho’s friend, regarding her with a smile on your face. “Well, just you and me for a few hours, then. Wanna hang out here, or you prefer chilling on your own?”

She smiled back at you, offering a simple “let’s hang out”.

Minho’s friend was always really enjoyable to talk to, she was Minho’s closest friend, she’d seen the pack grow since Minho joined it years ago, and she seemed to care deeply for him. You could still remember how happy she was when she met you when you’d just moved in with Chris, offering a ‘it’s nice to finally have another woman around! And a human one at that’. She’d helped you feel welcomed–not like the kids didn’t, she was just the most vocal about it–so you always liked to sit down and talk with her about everything and nothing over some tea just as you did now while you waited for your friends to come back.

You sat there on the back porch for hours, until the rustle of leaves from the edge of the forest brought your attention to the area, just as the shapes of Changbin and his girlfriend came into view. You sprung into action as soon as you saw them, Minho’s friend following soon after, taking a couple of robes and handing them to Changbin as soon as he turned back to his human form.

He was panting slightly and a bit sweaty, but he gave you a big smile, murmuring a ‘thanks’ and easing himself into the robe, tying it securely around his waist just as his girlfriend wrapped her arms around him from behind and gave him a squeeze, resting her chin on his shoulder, also giving you a smile. “The rest will be here in a few minutes…”

You couldn’t help but notice that Changbin’s eyes, as well as his girlfriend’s, were also glowing, just like Chris’ were before, and you realised then that you hadn’t really paid attention to anyone else while you sent Chris off, but now that you saw them, you assumed their eyes had been glowing since then as well.

Soon enough, wolves started to filter from between the trees, starting with Felix, who joined you at the back porch a handful of minutes after. Between the five of you, you helped the rest also get themselves comfortable into their silky robes, the material helping them cool off a bit after their run for them to finally make their way into the house to start getting refreshed.

Minho was the last one to come back, meaning only your boyfriend was still left in the woods.

“Where’s Chris?” You couldn’t help but ask as soon as Minho was in front of you and had shifted back into his human form, handing him a robe.

“He’s checking the perimeter”, Minho’s eyes were glowing golden as well. Taking the robe from your hands he draped it over his frame. “He always does that after a run. Will probably be here in a few minutes”.

A low howl resonated in the distance, the sound had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end and a shiver running down your spine, dragging warmth and heat to pool in the pit of your stomach. A smirk crept on Minho’s face at your reaction, clearly amused. “That’s him. It’s all fine”, he patted you on the back, offering a ‘let’s go, kitten’ to his friend as he slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her along so they could make their way into the house, Changbin and his girlfriend following right after.

So you sat on the steps of the back porch, just waiting for your boyfriend to come back from his run. From his run as a wolf, a thought that you couldn’t help but chuckle about.

Soon enough, there was a rustle among the trees far in front of you, and after a few moments, the dark shape of your boyfriend’s wolf form came into view, with his glowing golden eyes, somehow brighter than the rest of his packmates–a Pack Alpha thing, you supposed.

Taking down the few steps that were left, you leisurely walked towards Chris just as he trotted your way. When he was almost in front of you, he started to shift, the unpleasant cracks and pops giving way to human groans as he finally turned back to his human form. You had the full intent of handing him the robe in your hands as soon as he turned back, but, before you could even register it, he had already cupped your cheeks and pulled you to him, sealing your mouths in a heated kiss.

It took you by surprise, your breath hitching in your throat as Chris’ kiss stole the air right out of your lungs, but that didn’t stop you from kissing him back. With your arms around his shoulders and a hand in his curls, you tugged him even closer to you, pressing yourself flush to his body, the robe still in your free hand, now hanging over his back.

The way Chris was kissing you was almost as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you on his tongue, hungry, desperate. It felt similar to how he kissed you when he was on his rut. Maybe not with the same intensity as those times, but it was certainly close to it, and it almost made you feel dizzy in the best ways possible.

Before you could even realise it, Chris had scooped you into his arms with ease–once again showing you that supernatural strength he possessed–and your legs wrapped around his torso for stability as he pushed you to the side of the house, the sudden contact of the concrete behind your back eliciting a small yelp from your lips.

“Chris?” You called for him the moment his mouth moved away from your lips to trail kisses all the way to your neck, licking and sucking your skin with such fervour you knew you were going to see marks later.

Chris hummed against your skin, further pressing you against the wall and his grip on your rear tightening every so slightly. It was then that you felt him, hard and warm against your heat, and the feeling had your head spinning. “Want you”, was all he mumbled between kisses, making your inner walls clench with need.

“Now?” You were already breathless with just a few minutes of kissing, and the hum of confirmation against your skin had goosebumps rising all over your arms. “Shouldn’t you… Eat something first?”

Chris shook his head. “Later. Just want you”.

“Let’s…” You couldn’t help but sigh at the feel of his tongue on your skin, taking a deep breath right after. “Let’s at least get to our room”.

Chris detached his mouth from your neck, only to bring it back to your lips so he could kiss you again. After a few moments, he gently placed you on your feet, taking the robe from your hand. “Okay”, he mumbled before he pressed a brief kiss on your lips, taking your hand and tugging you towards the back door and into the house, holding the robe over his crotch.

Everyone had seen each other naked more times than anyone could count. Hell, even you had seen more cock in your couple of years living with them than you had in your entire life–a mental image you admittedly always tried to suppress, the lack of shame and judgement around being naked something that you found to be quite endearing but also hard to get used to. Even then, you figured they all might get a bit more reserved when sporting a raging erection, your boyfriend included.

The rest of the pack was huddled in the kitchen, causing a ruckus in just the way they knew how to, so they didn’t even register Chris and you making your way upstairs towards the bedrooms, and if they did, they were clearly smart enough not to come close to you both. You could feel anticipation building within you all the way to your shared room, with your eyes focusing on the toned muscles of your boyfriend’s back as he tugged you along the corridor, admiring the way light caught on each dip and curve, highlighted by a thin sheen of sweat, admiring the flush spreading on his skin from all the blood that was encouraged to pump through his body with the run.

As soon as you were inside your room, as soon as the door closed behind you, Chris had already pinned you to it, pressing his body to yours as much as he could as he claimed your mouth while simultaneously turning the lock, the click barely even registering in your ears among the sounds of your wet kiss.

“Take this off, all of it”, he mumbled against your mouth, tugging on your oversized t-shirt–his t-shirt–and your shorts. “Wanna feel you”.

“Babe–” He just wouldn’t stop kissing you, and it had you giggling as his hands found their way under your tee to palm your breasts, kneading them gently. “Baby, I can’t–Can’t take it off if you’re this close to me”.

Chris chuckled softly, pressing one final, loud kiss on your lips before detaching himself from you a bit, enough for him to tug the garment over your head. As soon as that was gone, he dropped to his knees, tugging your shorts and your underwear down with him for you to finally step out of them.

Interesting thing, how even when he was the one on his knees for you, there was absolutely no doubt on who was taking the lead. It never mattered in what position you were, whenever the sparks of lust started to fly around you two, you were always at his mercy, and it always made you weak in the knees, made your head spin, made you want to let him enjoy you however he pleased, because you trusted Chris. You really did. You trusted him with your heart, with your body, because, in a way, you knew he’d be able to make you feel good in every possible way he could, you knew he’d always take good care of you.

“Fuck, look at these… Look at you…” His hands greedily fondled your thighs, your hips, your rear, Chris tried his best to touch you anywhere and everywhere he could just as his lips pressed kisses all over your soft belly, occasionally nipping the flesh for good measure. “Have I ever told you how much I love your thighs?” Propping one of your legs over his shoulder, he settled to suck purple marks on your thigh, tracing a clear path towards your centre.

“Once or–or twice–Oh!” Chris’ mouth suddenly attached to your clit, your hand immediately moving to thread your fingers in his hair to try and steady yourself as he lapped you up.

Chris’ brows furrowed, and he groaned as soon as he got his tongue on your sensitive skin, tasting you, licking you, building your pleasure at an alarming pace. All you could do was hold onto him, trying to keep as quiet as you could and looking at his golden eyes as they stared back at you from between your legs.

Soon enough, Chris had two of his fingers stuffed into you, curling them against that sensitive spot within your walls that had you trembling under his touch, and when he added a third finger you couldn’t help but tighten your grip on his hair and lean your head back against the door, closing your eyes and biting your lower lip to try to maintain your volume to a minimum.

You felt as his mouth moved away from your clit, quickly replaced with his thumb as he attached his lips to your thigh again, sucking harshly on the skin. “Look at me”, Chris’ voice was so low, so level, as if he wasn’t fucking you open with his fingers, as if he wasn’t turning you into putty with just his fingers and his mouth.

You really wanted to comply, but it was hard for your brain to send signals to your body when you felt just so overcome with all the different sensations coursing through your body, and it was just as Chris was easing his fourth finger into you that he spoke again. “Look at me, love”.

Swallowing, you finally opened your eyes and turned your gaze down, finding Chris’ piercing golden eyes looking at you, holding your gaze as his fingers sped up, as his thumb kept rubbing your clit. It was no secret that Chris’ warm brown eyes were one of your biggest weaknesses, they were one of his physical features you loved most, but there was something about this look of his, about this supernatural glow of his eyes… It felt so raw, it made you feel exposed, almost as if he was stripping layers of your soul when he looked at you.

Two years ago, a look like this would’ve surely sent you into fight or flight, your brain would’ve urged you to turn around and run as far away from him as you could. Now, though, that look only fed the fire burning in the pit of your stomach, it made you crave him with such intensity you thought your heart would leap out of your chest as you held his gaze.

“You’re so fucking pretty”, you couldn’t help but whimper as the words left his mouth, as you felt his fingers moving harder within you, as you held that dangerous eye contact with your boyfriend, at the feel of his other hand tightly gripping your thigh. “So fucking pretty and sweet and perfect and mine, yeah? All mine?”

You nodded, biting your lip to dampen the sounds that desperately wanted to escape your mouth. “All–All yours, Chris… Baby, please… Wanna…”

Chris simply hummed, seemingly satisfied by your reassurance, immediately removing his thumb to return his mouth to your clit. He held your gaze, looking determined, almost greedy. You knew that look. How could you not know it when it was that look that always had you throbbing with need, it was the look he always gave you when he wanted to have you come undone for him. Usually, when he wasn’t driven by his rut-induced urges, Chris would take much longer than this to give you your release, but right now he clearly was just as needy to give it to you as you were to get it.

You could feel your lower belly tighten with each flick of his tongue, with each thrust of his fingers, and it wasn’t long until he finally sent you over the edge. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth, you took it between your lips to bite into it to help muffle the sounds that threatened to come out of your mouth louder than they should when you were staying in a house full of people with enhanced hearing, all as you kept your other hand in his hair, holding the strands between your fingers as if to not lose your sense of reality. It wasn’t until Chris was absolutely sure you had enjoyed every single wave of pleasure from your orgasm that he removed his fingers from you, pressing a couple more kisses on your clit only to finally bring his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with an appreciative hum.

Removing your leg from his shoulder, Chris carefully placed it back on the floor as he stood up. You were panting, breathless, and a little unsteady from the entire thing, but that didn’t stop you from kissing your boyfriend as soon as he was eye level with you again, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he held your hips tightly in place.

When he removed his mouth from yours, Chris spat on his hand, wrapping it around his length after to generously coat himself in his saliva, and before you could even wonder what he was going to do next, he was already easing his cock between your thighs, right where they met with your core, brushing your sensitive folds with each thrust. Chris’ eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss and he let out a sigh of relief, pleasuring himself with your thighs so shamelessly you couldn’t help but whimper at the sight, at the feel of his warm length on your skin, and the feel of his tight grip on your hips.

“So good…” Chris truly looked like he was starting to get lost in the feeling, and it had you dripping, had you feeling desired and wanted in that utterly primal way only Chris ever made you feel. “Always so soft and good for me, aren’t you?” When he opened his eyes again, his gaze found yours, almost stealing the air out of your lungs at the sheer intensity of his stare.

With a hand on his nape you pulled him to you, relishing the groan that escaped him only to get lost in your mouth as you kissed him, relishing the way his hold on your hips tightened and the way he thrusted harder, just as his hands moved you back and forth to have you meet his thrusts.

With one final grunt he brought your hips flush to his, stopping his movements. “Bed, love”, Chris mumbled against your lips, grabbing a handful of your bum. “Hands and knees”.

“Hands and knees?” Draping an arm over Chris’ shoulders and hiking one of your legs on his hip, you pulled him closer to you, kissing him briefly. “My alpha wants to mount me?”

Chris loved to mark you, to call you his, but he also loved when you called him yours, my baby, my dear, my boyfriend, my darling, my, my, my… It didn’t matter what term of endearment you used, whenever you added ‘my’ before it, you knew it would drive him up the wall, and when he was in this type of mood, in his more dominant, borderline animalistic mood, ‘my alpha’ would always get him incredibly worked up, and you loved how it simply worked every single time.

“Fuck!” Chris kissed you eagerly, grunting against your mouth, and his hand flew to your thigh, gripping it tightly to keep your leg around his torso. “So, so much. You’ve got no idea. Come here”, with his arm securely wrapped around your waist he moved, letting your leg drop to the floor to walk you backwards towards the bed.

Removing yourself from his arms after one final kiss, you moved, climbing onto the bed, and setting yourself as requested. Chris simply looked at you, with that look in his eyes that made you feel like you were the first meal he’d had in a long time, almost as if he was deciding which part of the plate to devour first, that look now heightened tenfold by his glowing eyes.

He brought a hand to his length, stroking himself leisurely, licking his lips absentmindedly and slightly tipping his head to the side as his eyes raked your form. You had to bring him back to you, you felt yourself aching for his touch, so you called for him, lacing his name with that breathy tone you knew would snap him out of his trance. “Chris…”

“Shit, baby, can’t help it”, climbing behind you, Chris placed a hand on your lower back, his thumb caressing the skin softly as he dragged the tip of his length up and down your folds, coating himself in your juices, making you shudder with the contact. “You’re so fucking beautiful, can’t help but get distracted”, you felt yourself flush, not only because of the things he was saying, but also because he stuffed you full of his cock as he did, eliciting a shared groan of relief once he was buried snugly within your walls.

“Fuck… How did I get so lucky, huh?” You could feel Chris’ hands on your back, on your hips, your belly, your breasts, caressing you softly, tenderly, as if he hadn’t pumped his cock between your thighs a handful of minutes ago, and you could also feel his lips, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder, all as he let you adjust to him. “Mmm… Lucky… My pretty baby, all mine…”

When you felt comfortable enough you pushed back against him. You barely moved, only a tiny push, but it was enough to make Chris grunt, to make him bring his hands to your waist and start ramming into you immediately, with absolutely no build up. The movement was so sudden you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, completely forgetting your setting for a second.

“Want the whole house to hear you, pretty?” The sheer force of his thrusts had you feeling dizzy, had your mind hazy with nothing but Chris and his motions, had you gripping the bed sheets tightly. “It’s okay, babe. Not like they don’t know exactly what I’m doing to you up here, huh?”

Lowering yourself on your elbows you arched your back, letting Chris fuck you deeper as a shared groan left your lips. In an instant, Chris’ hand was on your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive nub, making your legs twitch and your teeth sink on your bottom lip to try and muffle all your moans and whines and whimpers. It was so much and so, so good, and very quickly you realised how desperate you were for your release again.

“Chris…” With the feel of his cock reaching so deep within your walls you could hardly speak, but you also knew you didn’t need to say anything, as soon as his name left your lips you knew he’d know exactly what you needed.

“Fuck, I know, baby. I know, don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want”, his fingers on your clit sped up, you could feel your rear bounce with every single one of his merciless thrusts, and even if you didn’t look at him, you knew he was looking, so you made it a point to push back just as he pushed forward to enhance that movement, immensely enjoying the groan that left his lips as soon as you started doing just that. “What a fucking sight, shit… Lucky… Mine…”

Moving his hand from your waist to your neck, Chris pressed down, effectively pushing your upper body flush to the bed as he kept thrusting in and out of you, as he kept rubbing circles on your clit, the motions turning you into a whiny, whimpering mess. The weight of his hand on the base of your neck, the feel of his cock deliciously stretching you open, and his fingers working you up were the only things you could register, and you could feel your release building and building the more Chris moved, the more Chris touched you.

“You’re doing so good for me, love. You always do, fuck… Are you enjoying yourself? Enjoying your alpha’s cock, huh pretty?”

You weakly nodded in response, mostly because you didn’t trust yourself to open your mouth and speak, fearing all that would come out would be a cacophony of desperate sounds and cries under Chris’ quickening movements. There was a low growl, almost inaudible, but Chris was so close to you there was no way you could’ve missed it, and your body reacted immediately, a shiver running down your spine and your walls clenching tightly around his length. “Tell me, love. Say it”.

“I–” Your lower belly was tightening harshly, and you felt warmth rushing through you every second Chris kept rubbing your clit, the motions had you almost speechless, but you tried, gripping the bed sheets tightly in your fists to ground yourself. “I am–”

Thrusting harder, Chris’ hold on the base of your neck tightened. “You’re what?”

Swallowing thickly, you felt your mind clouding, now filled with nothing but pure need and desperation, with nothing but your boyfriend and his ruthless thrusts. “Enjoying your cock, Chris–Fuck!” As soon as the words left your mouth you felt heat spreading everywhere within you, your release dragging pleasuring warmth from your core to every single one of your limbs, weakening your grip on the sheets, weakening your legs, and your knees would’ve given out had Chris not moved his hand away from your clit to instead wrap his arm around your waist to keep you steady in place, further leaning into you, almost pressing his chest to your back as his other hand found its way to hold one of yours, pressing it to the mattress.

“Mmm, good girl”, Chris’ breath fanned your neck, raising goosebumps on your flesh, that, coupled with his unfaltering pace had you whimpering softly, leaving you on the brink of oversensitivity. “Good, good girl. My girl. Perfect, yeah? Perfect when you come for me…”

Chris was running his mouth a bit, just like he often did when he was close to his peak, mumbling mindless words of praise as he kept working himself up. And finally, with a few more thrusts, he came, groaning lowly in your ear and pressing his hips flush to your rear to pump you full of his seed, just how he loved to do. He pressed kisses on your shoulder, mumbling softly, ‘so, so perfect for me. My perfect girl’. You just hummed, still panting a bit, but undoubtedly satisfied, enjoying the feel of him all over you, enjoying the gratifying tiredness only a good fuck with your boyfriend could leave on your body.

You didn’t move for a while, you hadn’t changed positions at all since Chris came, and you couldn’t help but notice he was still rock hard within your walls. “Chris, baby?” Before you could comment on it, he started to move again, slowly, in and out of your cunt as he continued to press kisses on your nape, eventually settling on the junction of your neck and your shoulder, mindlessly kissing and licking your skin.

While Chris kissed and licked the area, a low rumble resonated in his chest as he kept moving within your walls. You obviously didn’t mind, you loved to feel him in you, fucking you, the feel of his rumble on your back, but Chris didn’t rumble often…

‘Alphas don’t rumble frequently. It mostly happens when we’re really, really, reeeeaaaally lost in a state of bliss, which is typically when we’re on our rut. Rumbling out of happiness is more an omega thing, I’d say’, he’d explained to you once, and you truly had only ever heard–and felt–him rumble during his rut or when he came home really tired and got to hug you close when he finally tucked himself to bed, just right before he fell asleep. This behaviour of his was odd, you knew he wasn’t on his rut, he was being too coherent for that, but by now he would’ve pulled out and tugged you into his arms to relax for a bit.

The moment he grazed his teeth against your skin, you gasped softly, both from the feeling of his mouth on you and the angle in which he was fucking you, but suddenly, his warmth was gone. The sudden change in temperature around you and the sudden feeling of emptiness in your core almost gave you whiplash. You just caught sight of him stumbling back from the bed, pressing his back to the wall as he took in deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked you, panting.

You just turned fully, sitting on the bed with your legs folded under you, blinking slightly. “‘Course I am. Are you okay?”

Chris simply nodded in response, and now you were starting to get worried. “Chris…”

“I am! Just… Just need a moment, yeah?” He further slouched against the wall, closing his eyes as he kept taking deep breaths.

You just looked at him, with your brows furrowed in concern, completely uncaring of his cum trickling down your legs. It went on like this for a few minutes, until Chris finally heaved a sigh, opening his eyes again, which were now back to their usual warm brown.

“I’m sorry, pretty. The full moon and the adrenaline from the run have me a bit… A bit feral”, Chris chuckled softly, but he didn’t move away from the wall.

Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you looked at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Just… Need to control myself a bit”.

“Is that why your eyes were glowing so bright? Because of you ‘being feral’?” You emphasised the two words with air quotes, genuinely curious about it.

“I mean, it’s just the… The entire thing. The full moon, the run, you… There’s a lot going on inside of me right now with all those things combined”.

“Me?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “What do I have to do with anything?”

Chris simply smiled at you, walking over to sit next to you on the bed. “A lot of things! When… When the full moon hits and we go on our runs we don’t… Think much. We act. At the end of the day, I’m an animal, too. You know that, right?”

You just nodded, because of course you knew. There was no way you weren’t aware of the fact that your boyfriend wasn’t exactly like you, he was very close, but not the same. Chris reached for your hand, turning it so he could place a soft kiss on your palm. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, the way he was trying to make sense of his thoughts, or at least, of what he was going to tell you about them. So you decided to ask directly. “Chris, baby… What’s bothering you?”

Chris looked at you for a moment, taking in the features of your face until he finally heaved a sigh. “Just realised that I always… Always get these urges during the full moon, just that, since you’ve never been here, it’s never progressed further than… Just urges. Now you are here, though, and it’s throwing my hormones more out of whack than usual”, you were slightly taken aback by the comment, and it must’ve shown on your face, because he quickly added. “Not in a bad way! It’s just… Primal instincts and shit”.

“Wanna… Tell me more about it or…?” You took his hand between yours, squeezing gently.

Chris looked at you for a few moments, only to drop his gaze to your joined hands right after. “I’m… Uh… A bit embarrassed, I guess. It’s not something… I mean…”

He was rambling a bit, just as he often did when he was trying to make sense of his thoughts, so you gave his hand another squeeze, the motion bringing his attention back to you. “Babe, you know I won’t judge you”.

He looked back at your face, his gaze jumping from one of your eyes to the other, until his eyes moved lower, settling on your neck, and his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding yours, came to softly caress the skin of your neck, just as a soft blush settled on his cheeks. “I feel like… Like claiming you, biting you…”

Ah, claiming. Essentially the act of mating. Something you’ve read about, but that Chris had never brought up, so you hadn’t either. It was common practice for werewolves, especially alphas, to mark their partners by biting them in a very specific way, in a very specific place. Suddenly, where he was kissing and licking you before he jumped away from you made sense. “Don’t you… Want to do it?”

Chris chuckled softly, almost incredulous. “Babe, if I do that I might as well get down on one knee and ask you to marry me, while simultaneously getting married”.

You blinked slightly, looking him in the eyes just as you felt the tiniest twinge in your heart. You and Chris had been together for more than a year now, and although there had been no talks of the future of your relationship, now that the talk was happening, his hesitancy made you feel… Uneasy. “So you wouldn’t like to…”

Again, it must’ve shown on your face, because Chris’ expression shifted, slightly alarmed. “Wait, no, no. I’m not saying I wouldn’t like that. Love, listen, come here”, Chris motioned for you to sit on his lap, and you did, sitting sideways so you could drape an arm over his shoulder, relishing the way his arms wrapped around your hips and the way his eyes were almost sparkling when he looked at you.

“I love you”.

Chris said it so confidently, so sure of it there was no doubt in your mind that he meant it, but it still took you by surprise. He’d never said it before, he really didn’t need to, you knew it already, because he had shown that to you in many different ways. But you still felt your face flush and your heart stammering in your chest. “I love you so much. I want it all, and when I say all I mean all all, but I’m… I’m wired differently. Claiming you, mating… For us… For me, it’s pretty much a lifelong commitment, and you’ve already given so much of yourself to keep up with the dynamic of my family, to keep up with me, I don’t want to take this away from you, too. Not because of… My stupid horny alpha urges, not like this”.

“Chris”, cupping his cheeks, you softly caressed his skin with your thumbs. “You’ve not taken anything away from me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done because I wanted to. I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than I do right now with you, with the kids, too”.

Chris looked at you for a few moments, completely silent, just scanning your face, until he finally spoke again, his tone a bit quieter than usual. “How do you know it’s not just… You know, my alpha pheromones and shit…” He sounded genuinely distressed about it, and it pulled at your heartstrings unpleasantly.

“Christopher, have you been worried about this the entire time?” You couldn’t help the combination of concern and incredulousness that clung to your voice at his question. “That you’ve somehow coaxed me into all of this?”

Chris averted his gaze, looking anywhere but your face. “I… I do worry about it sometimes. Wouldn’t want for you to–”

“Baby, listen. Look at me”, you put some pressure on his cheeks, making him pout a bit with the motion, bringing his eyes back to yours. “Remember a couple of months ago when I went abroad with my mum for like, three weeks?” Chris nodded, so you continued. “I was kilometres away from you, and I still wanted you, still loved you. Because I do, I love you, and I love your family, too. You guys took me in, made me feel at home, and I feel like… Like they’re my family, too. And every day I hope they all feel the same way about me… I hope you feel the same way”.

Chris looked at you for a bit, digesting your words, until finally, with a hand on the back of your head and the other caressing your thigh, he pulled you in for a brief kiss. “I do feel that way. Every day. I’m so grateful you came into our lives, into my life. Since I met you, since I got to know you, it’s like… Like I can finally breathe, I’ve never… Honestly, I don’t think there are words to express how I feel, but I seriously can’t imagine anyone else by my side”.

You could feel warmth spread in your chest, your heart threatening to burst with all the love it harboured for this man in front of you, and you couldn’t help the blush that came to your cheeks along with the splitting smile that made its way onto your face. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss on Chris’ lips, enjoying the way his arms pulled you tighter against him with the action.

“I know it’s not… Not ideal”, you shuffled a bit within Chris’ arms, moving instead to straddle him, resting your weight on his thighs and your arms around his shoulders as he traced patterns on your back. “You are what you are and I am what I am, we can’t change that. But I do love you. Every part of you. Lycanthropy and all. Truly”.

“Truly?” Chris’ arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

You hummed, nodding. “Truly. As for you claiming me… If that’s what you want, we can… We can wait. Let’s… Have this conversation again a couple of years down the road. There’s no hurry, is there?”

Chris shook his head, and you continued. “Just, please don’t… Don’t keep these worries to yourself, yeah? Just because you’re Mr Alpha of the Pack doesn’t mean you have to deal with everything on your own, that’s what I’m here for, to help ease that burden. I love being a part of your pack, babe, I really do, don’t ever doubt it, or worry that you have somehow supernaturally influenced me to do these things. There’s a reason for me to have fallen into the position I did when I moved in with you… Because I like it. Makes me feel… Just so full. To be there for the kids, for you, to help out… It kinda feels like I was meant to do it”.

“You do it so well, too”, Chris tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking at you as if you held his world in your hands. “Much better than me sometimes”.

“Hey, don’t be like that. We’re a team here, huh? No bringing yourself down nonsense”, you swatted his arm playfully, making him laugh, but you still gave him a smile, blushing a bit. “As for our relationship… We can always just… Talk, hm?”

Chris simply regarded you with a smile, one of those genuine smiles of his that had your heart doing somersaults in your chest, until finally, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek, mumbling an ‘okay’ against your skin.

“Okay”, you repeated, sealing your statement with a kiss.

You stayed like that for a bit, just kissing, hugging each other tightly, enjoying each other’s warmth. Until you just couldn’t ignore the obvious anymore, so you reached for Chris’ length between your bodies, stroking him leisurely, eliciting a soft hum from him. “Can’t believe you’re still hard”, you mumbled against his lips, pecking him softly.

Chris chuckled, moving away from your lips to look you in the eyes. “Told you, pretty baby. My hormones are a bit out of whack because of the moon. Besides, you just told me you love me, I don’t think it’s going down any time soon”.

You regarded him with a smile, shuffling a bit to prop yourself on your knees and line him with your entrance. “Let’s make the most of it, then”.

Chris brought his hands to your hips, pushing you down his length as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him, moaning at the sudden feeling of fullness that only Chris could bring you–both physically and emotionally. “Mm, shouldn’t we eat first?” Chris’ teasing tone was hard to miss, and it had you chuckling.

“Later. Want you now”, you mimicked his words from earlier, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Later, then”, sneaking his hands to your bum, he gripped your rear tightly, starting to slowly move you up and down his cock with ease. “Mmm… Love you, pretty…”

“Love you more, baby”, you couldn’t help but smile as you said it, as you saw the way he took your challenge, and you knew Chris was just going to try and spend the rest of the night trying to convince you he loved you more, just like you were going to do the same.

Author’s Notex2: i didn’t proof read this as many times as i usually do, so sorry if there are any weirdly constructed sentences, might go back and tweak things later. also, if you’re reading this, do you think these are getting too long? 👉👈 i fear they might be, i just have a lot to say i guess hahah. anyway, hope you enjoyed !

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 If you want to be removed from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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The 100 Drabble Challenge is brought to you by the exceptional mind of my bestie Hali @sailoryooons who thought this could be a fun way for us to expand our writing in 2024. Every week, we'll write drabbles from a list of 100 tropes. Let’s be real, though, we all know I’ll probably turn at least some of them into oneshots rather than true drabbles because I’m insane. I hope you all enjoy the stories we create!

Taglist: If you want to be tagged in ONLY the Drabble Challenge, you need to submit this taglist Google form. If you want to be tagged in ALL my fics (including the Challenge), you need to submit this taglist Google form. Your email will not be collected for either.

Updated April 1, 2024

Sweet Dreams | Established Relationship | Dom/Sub | Kinks | Smut

Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.

Morals On Sundays | FWB | Angst | Fluff | Smut

You’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

Jai is currently working on these.

↳ Come back later!

Definitely Today, Satan | Neighbors AU | Smut | Bad Humor

After having a strange dream about your hot neighbor, you realize it might be time to finally make your move. Dreams are a sign from the universe, right?

Gang Shit | Kidfic | Single Parent/DILF | Fluff | Humor

Your daughter’s classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you’re his arch-nemesis.

Technicolor | Dystopian | Strangers to Lovers | Smut

Love is one hell of a drug. Bottled and sold on the black market, it isn't for the faint-hearted. You're not really interested in trying it until you meet Jimin.

Working as a counselor at a summer camp for kids isn’t the most exciting job, but hanging out with Taehyung makes it worth it.

New Flame | A/B/O | Strangers to Lovers | Smut

Flame is a dating app designed for omegas and alphas to find heat and rut partners. You're skeptical of using the app, not anticipating that you might find someone who is more than just a new flame.

Oxygen | Mafia | Established Relationship | Smut | Angst

If you get caught, you'll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

The cute librarian at Yoongi's local library hosts an adult-only book club. As a fanfiction smut writer himself, Yoongi is intrigued.

It takes an impromptu trip to buy condoms for Jungkook to finally confess his feelings to Taehyung.

Bad Boy, Good Lips | Jihope | Superheroes & Villains | College AU | Smut

Hoseok is a superhero’s sidekick. Jimin is a villain. They make it work.

To secure his rightful place as next in line to the throne, Jimin must marry the neighboring kingdom’s youngest heir, Jungkook. Jimin is prepared for his kingdom’s invasive marriage traditions, including the need to prove that the marriage has been consummated. Unfortunately, Jungkook is not.

The Wind Speaks | Vmin | Mermaid/Siren | Yandere

Something’s living under the dock at the Kim family’s beach house.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. It’s #NotThatDeepYall.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading them and commenting on them tbh. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#100 drabble challenge #masterlist #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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itshype · 1 year

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Please don’t pet me! I am working! (DC x DP)

The Service Animal Cujo notfic that I, personally requested but just like my extremely cringe Batman x Witcher fic, I have to do everything myself. I wrote this but held off during DC x DP week because I’m not participating in that. If I keep writing these, I’ll have to make a masterpost or probably whack them up on Ao3 for archive purposes at some point but for now: Here is the Space Obsessed Danny story and Here is the Kingmaker Danny story! CW for mention of panic attacks in this one!

So! Let’s get going. Danny died. He can’t stop thinking it. He was dead. He’s walking and talking now but he knows deep in his soul that everything’s different now. He was dead and somehow nothing has changed? He feels like something of his journey to hell itself should be visible in his skin – something more than the small exit scar on his left foot. Another dimension was opened through his body and his hairstyle didn’t even shift?

Sam and Tucker are just as freaked out as he is, but they aren’t nearly as frightened. The ghost powers and Halfa stigma won’t come until later, but right now Danny is having difficulty even considering the possibility of leaving the house. With Danny in such bad condition emotionally, there’s no way to cover up what happened, and Jazz takes them all to the hospital.

Now, I know in a lot of fanfics Danny has weird physiology even in human form (lower body temp, slower pulse etc) but I don’t remember any of that being canon so I’m ignoring it. And if it is canon then I am exercising my right to debone the original show like a small chicken and use it to make a flavourful stock.

So, Danny checks out with the doctors except for a weirdly tiny burn but he is having like 5 concurrent panic attacks about everything from “there’s nothing after we die”, “The electricity cooked me”, “Life has no meaning”, maybe even throw in a fun “I came back wrong”.

Hell, maybe he does have weirdly low vitals, but the rapid pulse is countering his slow heartbeat and decreased blood pressure etc. Up to you!

Danny probably ends up being sedated if he can’t calm down but by then there is a different issue. The doctors Fenton have arrived. Now, I think it’s no stretch of the imagination to say that under the wrong circumstances they would dissect Phantom if they got their hands on him but also I know they somewhat care for their children and canon has shown more than once that under good circumstances that they could accept Danny.

When his ghost sense goes off for the first time it’s pretty obvious. He’s in a hospital and instead of a tiny little whisp of silver breath; it’s like a fogbank creeping along a moor, its sea mist rolling in from the horizon of his mouth and whiting out his private hospital room. No one can see two meters in front of their own face, and it takes over a minute to fade. Sam screams out for Danny and tries to grab his hand where she knows it was but can no longer see. Tucker starts at the sound and drops his device, screeching gratingly at the clattering plastic of his PDA hitting linoleum, hard.

When the mist finally evaporates, the Fentons want to take him home immediately and run tests. They think the ghostly influence is ‘obvious’ but the 68-year-old nurse, Beatrice stands like a 5-foot-nothing wall of solid rock and won’t let them touch him. Jazz also angles herself between her parents and the door so if they did somehow manage to get their hands on Danny, they wouldn’t be able to leave without steamrolling her. Then the heartrate monitor goes wild as Danny panics about being a guinea pig for his parents’ less-than-lukewarm lab safety practices and they back off without further interruptions.

That’s the point when it hits them that everything that has happened to Danny is their fault. His accident was because of them, he’s melting down because of them, both of their children genuinely believe that they will hurt Danny just because he’s having weird ghostly side effects to almost dying in a ghost portal. One they built.

It’s a few hours later when they breach the subject of going home, of at the very least making a decision about school even if that decision is to formally take a leave of absence. Sam and Tucker’s parents had made them go home and he’s a lot calmer now but at this stage, his weird ghost powers are causing problems. It seems to the orderlies and nurses that his anxiety is getting worse because he’s turning intangible through cups and cutlery – making it look like he’s shaking so hard he can’t even hold a single cup, and is flat out refusing to eat.

Even though it’s been less than a day it looks like Danny’s shock is just getting worse. He phases through his bed right as Beatrice and his parents walk through and they think he’s hiding under there out of fear. He tries to explain, confused, and disoriented and deep in denial. Jazz shuts him up. She doesn’t know completely what’s going on, but she knows enough, and she isn’t letting 12 hours of changed behaviour force her to blindly trust her parents.

Beatrice is most concerned. It hasn’t been very long but there’s no reasonable cause for his steep and steady decline. No reason outside of something-something-ghosts.

That’s when the first few pamphlets come out about therapy animals. They require some time to be trained and the middle of nowhere Amity Park doesn’t exactly have a pool to choose from, but it’s okay to adopt a younger animal and train it themselves.

Danny looks at the pictures of the fluffy bunnies and alert-eared dogs with big, glistening eyes. Then puts them down. There’s no way an animal would be safe in his house.

That’s when the ghosts attack. Danny isn’t the only spectre with a ghost sense and these ghosts are less human due to a lack of ectoplasm. Obviously, the silver fog reappears, and, in his terror, Danny drops to the next floor of the hospital, glitching through his bed and the floor underneath it. He crashes painfully in the middle of the gift shop.

His parents reach the conclusion that due to his extreme ectoplasm contamination; he’s developed a serious allergy to ectoplasmic weaponry, including things like ectoblasts that ghosts have naturally. They’re not…the wrongest that they could be. Unfortunately, they decide that Evil Ghosts TM can sense this weakness and are trying to kill their poor baby boy. Everyone else is freaking out about ghosts being visibly proven but the Fentons knew ghosts were real with zero doubts so they’re rolling with it.

Now, due to the knowledge that he died, Danny is having difficulty worrying about other things like catching up with schoolwork, his weird new allergies/powers or even Dash.

BTW KUDOS to anyone still reading, I know this part was really long, but I really felt like I couldn’t just flim flam over the details of why Danny would need an emotional support/service animal even if it’s fictional.

First day back at school, the Lunch Lady attacks. Danny barely eeks out a win just like in canon.

His parents decide that this is because of the allergies and the ghosts being able to sense Danny’s weakness as I said above. And they take it upon themselves to root out the problem at its source, to find all the ghosts who could hurt their son and imprison them, partly for Danny’s safety and partly for study. Not even they are sure where the divide is between their two loyalties.

So, they look to their now-functioning portal.

Unfortunately, they were massively underprepared, and they don’t come back.

Jazz sees the locked lab door and leaves them to it, making dinner and making sure Danny knows she wants him to be at school.

He doesn’t go, she lets him not go.

Two days later the boredom is worse than his fear. He goes to school. Danny, Sam and Tucker enter like a single unit. Dash tries some shit and either:

Jazz emerges and smacks his head hard enough he loses vision for several seconds – long enough for her to knee him hard enough to put the continuance of the Baxter lineage into question.

Danny starts panicking again. The teachers always want to side with Dash but him openly attacking a kid who was just in the hospital who doesn’t even lift a finger in defence of himself is beyond the limits of any sane adult’s “boys will be boys”.

Doesn’t really matter, the point is that he’s not looking to fuck around any time soon now that he’s already found out. But he did in fact attack Danny.

Danny goes home. His first attempt at school following his death has failed.

Tucker, separately, goes to a garage sale to buy old electronics to use in his PDA upgrades. He buys a boxful of weird lab equipment that definitely has a microchip or two. When he opens it at Danny’s house as an effort to distract him, a small pink teddy falls out. No one notices it bounce beneath the sofa. Sam or Jazz brings up the support animal idea again but is reminded of the whole “our house is a toxic waste site” thing and backs off.

Weeks pass, Danny develops his ghost powers and Jazz realises their parents are actually missing. She submits a missing person report mentioning the switched-on portal – the lab door was locked from the inside.

So, when Danny wakes up one day and there’s a glowing green dog already with a collar and a toy he thinks “ah yes, a dog that my sibling has procured for me as we discussed many times to help me cope with my own mortality, the near-constant ghost attacks and my parents who vanished.”

So, he puts a leash on Cujo who is happily chewing on his little pink teddy and takes him off to school while Jazz is using her first free period to go bother the local cops about their parents. (Why haven’t they been taken in by child protective services? Either:

Because I said so

Jazz is 18

Jazz used her improbable psychology powers to bamboozle the social worker into leaving)

Everyone at school loves Cujo. He gets all the love and does a very good job of dragging Danny away from ghost attacks (so he can fight them!!)

Jazz doesn’t find out about Cujo until the afternoon but probably lets the whole thing lie because it’s a great solution.

This could go on for some time. Both Danny and Phantom have Cujo but as Phantom Cujo stays in his big form so there’s no connection made. Canon mostly proceeds as normal except the parents aren’t there and there’s no huge issue with Valerie.

Realistically, a fair few high schoolers are probably also on the hunt for a pet ghost dog because if Danny and Danny both have one there must be heaps going around. Danny is also worried about his parents and periodically looks for them but that isn’t the focus of this story so I won’t go into a lot of detail – just clarifying that he’s not a sociopath who finds out his parents are missing and goes “oh ok”.

This could be its own story but let’s get to the DC part now!!

Eventually the Justice League connects the two calls, one about the ghost dog and one about the parents disappearing through a portal. Maybe Valerie complains, or even fanon favourite Wes contacts the authorities about the ghost dog with no official training or certification. Either way the JLA algorithm picks up these two very strange claims from one town and send someone to investigate.

But I mean, parents vanishing from a locked room and a green dog aren’t exactly world ending stuff, so instead of sending an actual busy superhero they send one of the kid heroes.

Now a lot of people will go ahead and put Damian into this. But I don’t really care for him in a dynamic with Danny. But I have another vigilante in mind, one who is less animal crazy, but more dog focused and also has issues with being seen as an actual person.

That's right, it's Conner Kent. And his faithful alien dog Krypto. I've seen a few fics where Danny adopts him, but you know what other family member should think you're an actual person? Your significant other. This could totally be a friendship thing no problem, but I do feel like some versions of canon Connor Kent would get on great with Danny.

Without the looming, repeated threat of vivisection, I think Danny would be a lot more chill about his secret identity and would probably disclose Cujo’s origins to Superboy. Once Connor knows about Cujo (Phantom’s dog) being able to shrink, he can see Danny with the dog once and connect all the necessary dots. Because I stand by the fact that the main reason Danny’s secret ID isn’t discovered more is because there’s no reason for a dead person to have a secret identity but once the concept is introduced then it’s pretty simple. Connor can hang out with Phantom while Phantom does ghost fights because the Kryptonian can’t really contribute but he’s there for moral support.

Eventually, Danny reveals to Connor that he himself was cloned before and talks excitedly about his clone who he considers a cousin. I definitely think without the parents there that Dani would visit more even if she has an obsession with travel, wanderlust or freedom that prevents her from permanently moving in.

This knowledge makes him very upset about how he was treated by his genetic donors, and Connor decides to move in with the Fenton siblings (without really asking the Fenton siblings) and decides that he’ll commute to the watchtower/titans tower/mount justice (depending on which version of canon he’s in sorry I can’t be bothered to figure it out).

Unfortunately, on top of not asking the Fentons, he doesn’t notify or ask anyone in the caped community. So as far as any of them are concerned, Connor went on a minor mission to investigate some missing people and is now himself missing.

Just as a caveat because I don’t feel like getting into an argument today, I used the terms both “service animal” and “emotional support animal” even though in most countries these are not interchangeable legal definitions. I use it in a non-legal way here because emotionally helping Danny – especially when that emotional stress causes physical damage is a service, and also there is the potential for Cujo to help Danny in other physical ways.

Also, there is definitely room here for Dani being buds with Match. I think that'd be neat.

If I could draw, I would make art of Cujo and Krypto being besties but I cannot so just picture it for two seconds. Done? Great, thanks!

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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

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Yearling - Ch. 5: Movement

Tommy asks Joel for a favor. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-4 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None, but the whole fic is violent and eventually smutty. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Spring, 1997

Your parents couldn’t have planted a better way to catch you sneaking out of the house if they tried.

Not that you snuck out much. Usually you just went down to the stables to hang out with your horse, Athena, when you couldn’t sleep. Or you went to clamber onto the roof over the front porch to lay out and look up at the stars. You’d always loved the constellations, memorizing the patterns and the stories that went with them.

But there was one stupid floorboard just outside your parents’ bedroom that creaked when you stepped on it and you tried to dodge it, you really did, but it was dark and you misjudged just where you were in the hall. You stood, ball of your foot on the squeaky board like it was a landmine, lifting your weight slowly, hoping it minimized the sound. It didn’t make much difference.

You waited, just beyond their door, to see if there was stirring inside but the only sound was your dad’s even snoring. The rest of the path to your brother’s room was easy.

Once you’d closed the door softly behind you, you dove onto his bed, hurtling your weight against his stomach and chest, making him groan.

“What the fuck?” Richie mumbled, shoving you back. “The hell you doin’ in here, Bug? What time s’it?”

“Almost four,” you tucked your legs below you, sitting back on your heels, moonlight shining off his skin. “I need your help.”

“Whatever it is can wait an hour and a half ’til I’m up for the day,” he groaned, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. “Fuck off.”

“See, it can’t though,” you pushed on his arm and he turned his head. You could barely make out his glaring at you in the dark. “Has to be now, c’mon.”

“Bug, I swear to God…”

“Mama’ll kill you if she hears you taking the lord’s name in vain around me,” you said, smug. You could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Fine, you want to stay here? I’ll do it myself but you’re gonna get in trouble for lettin’ me.”

That got his attention.

“Lettin’ you do what?” He asked. “Not a damn soul can control you least of all me…”

“Well I’m gonna go break Triton so you can either help and make sure I don’t snap my neck or you can stay here and face Daddy’s wrath…”

“You’re what!” He yelped, sitting bolt upright. You shushed him, clasping your hand over his mouth, keeping it there until you were sure neither of your parents were about to come into his room to see what the commotion was.

“Sorry,” you whispered when you released him. “Don’t be so dumb next time, Jesus…”

“You ain’t bein’ serious,” he said, propping an arm on his knee as he rubbed the sleep from his face. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him. He sighed. “Dammit Bug. You’re my least favorite sister, you know that, right?”

“I’m your only sister,” you said, smug. “Now c’mon, let’s go! Everyone will be working in like two hours…”

“I’ll meet you at the stable in 10 minutes,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m just in boxers, not gettin’ outta bed with you here.”

“Gross,” you said cheerfully, going for his door.

“Don’t you dare even go in his stall ’til I’m there, you understand me?” He said, voice sharp. “I mean it, Bug, you’ll get fuckin’ trampled.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you rolled your eyes and left, heading to the stables.

It was so early that no one was at work yet and the ranch was still and quiet. You went into the stable and peered into Athena’s stall for a moment, your horse sleeping peacefully. You resisted the urge to go curl up next to her and went to collect the tack for Triton.

You waited by his stall, the stallion just starting to stir. He got to his feet and shook his large head once, his mane bouncing with it as he ambled over to the door. He was big, one of the biggest horses on your father’s ranch. You’d ridden bigger horses than him but never one who wasn’t well broke.

But you’d been watching your father and brothers and two other ranch hands struggle to get through to Triton for weeks. You perched on the fence post and watched as they got thrown and kicked, the horse often taking off to the other side of the paddock while totally out of control. They couldn’t get him past saddle broke, Triton willing to take tack but not a rider. He’d been a significant investment, intended to be used as a stud for some of the mares on the ranch as well as a horse to drive cattle, but he was useless if the men couldn’t get him to take commands.

You’d sat and watched them fail and fail with him the day before, silent from your position on the fence, when Triton took off, doing a circuit of the paddock and coming to a stop near you. Your dad screamed at you to get back on the other side of the fence but you ignored him, slowly reaching your hand for the horse’s muzzle. His velvet nose sniffed you before he pressed into your palm and you petted him gently. He chuffed and moved closer and you looked in his eyes. He was just afraid. Afraid of the big men and their frustration and rage and the plans they had for his body that were going to shit because he wouldn’t bend to their will.

“I understand you,” you said quietly. He chuffed again and twitched his ears. “It’s OK. I understand. I’ll help. I understand.”

Kevin, one of the ranch hands, ran over and grabbed Triton’s reins, tugging him away from you, making his large hooves stomp into the dirt.

“Can’t go messin’ with the princess of the ranch,” he muttered as the horse tossed his head and dragged his feet.

You decided then that the men weren’t ever going to get this horse to where he needed to be. They couldn’t. But you could. You just needed a chance, just needed to connect with him and let him figure it out with you, that’s all.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts, Bug,” Richie yawned, tugging his Levis up by the beltloops as he came over to you. “Triton’s gonna chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well then you can watch and tell Brendan all about it,” you said, jerking your chin toward the bunk house where your oldest brother now lived. “But you’re wrong. I’m gonna get him there. He just needs someone to trust.”

“Swear to shit you break somethin’…”

“It’s on me,” you smiled. He sighed and waved you back as he put the bridle on Triton and brought him out of his stall. Richie got the horse saddled and you stood back and watched, Triton keeping his eyes on you the whole time. The three of you went into the paddock, the only light coming from the barn, the moon and the stars. You clambered onto the fence as Richie held the reins.

“What do you wanna do?” He asked, watching you. “Since you want to be a ranch hand so damn bad.”

You flipped him off before holding your hand out to Triton, letting him sniff you. It took him a moment before he pressed his soft, smooth muzzle into your palm, his breath hot on your skin. You took a deep breath.

“You remember how to handle if he tries to buck you, right?” Richie asked, tone nervous. You nodded. “And I know you know how to try and fall and land when he throws you?”

“I’m not a dumbass,” you rolled your eyes. He just nodded.

“Alright, well…” He sighed, looking at Triton. “I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled, don’t do anything stupid.”

You nodded and swallowed, putting your hand on Triton’s neck and stroking him gently, moving down his body until you reached his saddle. It was more nerve-racking than you anticipated, getting ready to climb on Triton. You knew what was about to happen was going to hurt, even if he didn’t throw you. And Triton was big. Bigger than Athena by a hand at least, closer to two. Controlling him would be harder even if he was well broke.

“You gotta get on ‘em quick,” Richie sounded nervous.

“I ain’t stupid,” you muttered, putting your hands on the saddle.

“Sure you ain’t,” Richie muttered back.

You ignored him and all but jumped on Triton’s back, snapping your feet into the stirrups and Richie bolting back from the horse as he shot off away from the fence, totally outside your control. But you hung on, even as he started to buck below you. You tried to reach out, get a hand on him instead of just the saddle but your foot slipped from the stirrup and you flew, smacking into the dirt, the air knocked out of you. You heard Richie scrambling to get Triton under control as you rolled and got to your hands and knees, gasping for breath.

“Alright, you tried,” Richie panted, Triton whinnying and stomping his feet in protest. “Let’s go in before you really get hurt.”

“No,” you got up and brushed yourself off, feeling the grit under your palms. “I’m good, I want to go again.”

“Bug,” Richie sighed.

“I’ll do it without you.”

He sighed again.

“Catch your breath first,” he said. “Then we’ll go again.”

Triton threw you three more times but you kept getting up and getting back on him, Richie sounding more and more frustrated each time.

“Can’t keep doin’ this,” he said as you got ready to get back on Triton yet again. “You’re fixin’ to get yourself killed…”

“One more,” you said, shaking your arms to loosen up more. “Let me do one more and if he throws me again I’ll go in.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “One more, Bug. Then I’m puttin’ you over my shoulder and draggin’ you in, I don’t care if you scream the whole ranch down.”

You just nodded, looking up at Triton for a moment, his nostrils flaring. You reached your hand out for his nose again and it took a moment before he pressed his muzzle into your palm.

“It’s OK,” you said to him gently, looking him in the eye. “I’m tryin’ to help you, not tryin’ to hurt you. It’s OK.”

“He can’t understand you,” Richie said. You glared at him.

You jumped on Triton again and he took off but you were able to get seated properly this time, heels low in the stirrups, one hand on the reins the other on the saddle as he bucked and writhed. You could feel how he was moving this time, able to shift in tandem with him, like you were an extension of him and he of you. You could sense his anger and longing for control and almost rabid panic as you held on until, eventually, he started to calm below you. His movements slowed and eased, reduced to scratching his hooves at the earth and tossing his head as you held the reins.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed as you leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and stroked Triton’s neck.

“See?” You said gently, voice soothing as you ran your fingers over him. “You’re OK. It’ll be OK, I’ll take care of you, not going to hurt you, you’re OK…”

You let him walk the perimeter of the paddock, tossing his head and puffing, occasionally getting restless and trying to buck you again. You were ready for him though, hanging on when he thrashed and reaching forward to soothe him and praise him when he calmed.

When the sun began to rise on the horizon, you had him responding to some basic commands. You were able to turn him right or left and pull him into a one-rein stop. You’d almost forgotten you were doing what you were doing without permission until you heard your father screaming your name as he ran for the fence. He jumped it like he was a man in his 20s not his 50s, hurtling for you. You tightened your grip on Triton’s reins and leaned forward on him, shushing him as he started to stomp impatiently.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He panted, his eyes huge. “The hell were you thinking!”

“Daddy,” you said, voice calm. “You’re gonna spook ‘em and I’ve been workin’ all mornin’ to get him here, appreciate it if you don’t ruin it for me.”

“It’s true,” Richie said, his arms crossed as he leaned against a fence post. “She’s been at it for hours…”

“And you let her?” Your father rounded on your brother. “She’s 13, she’s a kid but you’re 18, you’re an adult! I expect better outta you…”

“You know as well as I do that nothin’s gonna stop her once she sets her mind to somethin’,” He replied. “Figured it’d be better if I were out here to help than if she did it on her own.”

“You were scarin’ ‘em, Daddy,” you said, stroking Triton’s neck gently. He chuffed at it, turning his head enough to look back at you. You met his gaze and smiled softly, giving him a reassuring pat. “He just needed to know someone was lookin’ out for him. That’s all. Can’t just force ‘em, Daddy. Gotta help ‘em.”

The ranch hands had started gathering around the fence, looking up at you from your perch on the back of the horse you’d brought to heel. He shifted his weight, wary, but calmed when you leaned over his neck, your hands on him.

“Just gotta help ‘em.”

***

Late April, 2026

“Hey, Joel,” Tommy jogged over to him as he walked back to his house. It was still outside, the air cool but with the promise of summer on the edges of it. The sun was setting, most people in town already home if they weren’t eating a late dinner at the mess hall or going to the Tipsy Bison for a drink. Joel found himself actually looking forward to the quiet evening alone before his brother came up, looking forward to the silence and the chance to relax into what his life was now. “Got a minute? Been meanin’ to talk to you about somethin’.”

“Sure,” Joel shrugged, heading inside. “Not like I got anywhere to be.”

He led the way into the house, Tommy lingering at his bookshelf like he was reading the titles of the books there. As if he hadn’t seen the room dozens of times before.

“Get you a drink?” Joel called from the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water.

“Nah,” Tommy said. “Won’t be here too long. Unless you wanted to do somethin’…”

“What’d you need, Tommy.”

He smiled a little, nodding and looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“Just wonderin’ what you thought of Bambi and the job she’s doin’ here so far. Since you brought her into town and all…”

Joel looked at him for a moment, taking a drink of water to buy himself time.

He didn’t want to admit it but he’d been all but actively avoiding you since the incident at the stables in December. Not that he wasn’t perfectly polite when he saw you, always giving you an expected “how’s your day” when he came by to get a horse or return one. You weren’t exactly verbose in return, usually just shrugging or saying “fine” and handing him the reins or taking them back. He didn’t feel like he could get any closer to you than that. He was focused on trying to fix things with Ellie, still trying to remember what it was like to be a whole person with something to live for. And you seemed to want little to do with anyone at all, content to be on your own with the horses and sometimes the dogs. You didn’t trust people and he didn’t blame you. It wasn’t fair to you for him to try to insert himself into your life, to try to be your friend.

In part because he wasn’t sure he could be just your friend.

He didn’t trust himself to try to keep a reasonable distance from you if he got closer. Every time your fingers brushed his when he passed his horse off to you after a patrol he wanted to take your hand and pull you against him. He wanted to breathe you in, feel you against him, soak up the vitality that clung to you like a second skin. He wanted to know you and understand you but he knew and understood himself enough to know that this wouldn’t be enough. You were beautiful and strong and so fucking alive he wanted to take in everything you would give him, everything. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just being friends, not with how he already saw you, how he was already drawn to you. He wanted to be your friend. He couldn’t stop at being your friend.

So he kept his distance.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice things. He noticed things. He noticed the fact that you stood up a little straighter now. He noticed that sometimes you wore your hair down now and you didn’t stare at the ground when he caught a glimpse of you going to the mess hall. He noticed that you always wore his coat, even as the weather grew warmer and he knew you had to be sweltering in it, especially as you worked in the stables. He’d never seen you in town without that coat.

“Doin’ good, all things considered,” he shrugged after a second. “Horses seem good, ‘specially Samson. But you’d be better off askin’ one of her friends than me, don’t know her all that well.”

“Well now, see, that’s the thing,” Tommy cupped the back of his neck and winced a bit. “She doesn’t exactly have a lot of those…”

Joel frowned. He’d never seen you with people but he assumed that was because he usually saw you when you were working. You couldn’t just be alone here. Right?

“She must have a couple,” he said. “She’s been here months…”

“Yeah, the council is worried about that, too,” Tommy nodded. “She’s got a big job here now and she’s doin’ that real well, got Samson to the point that we can take ‘em on patrol and shoot from his back and he don’t even flinch but they’re worried she’s not integrating here well otherwise.”

“Can’t force her,” Joel shrugged as he took another drink of water. “She don’t want friends, can’t make her have friends, Tommy.”

“We just can’t afford to have her want to leave,” he said. “So Maria asked me to talk with you. See if you could check in on her a bit, see how she’s doin’…”

“Tommy,” Joel sighed, tensing his jaw. “Don’t think I’m the right person…”

His brother cut him off.

“Only person she is friends with is Ellie,” he said.

“Ellie.”

“Ellie. And I know you’d want to keep an eye on what Ellie’s up to, make sure she’s a good influence,” Tommy said. “Make sure if she does decide to take off she don’t take Ellie with her…”

Joel sighed again. He knew what Tommy was doing. He wasn’t stupid. Joel could say no to his brother, he could say no to the council, he couldn’t say no to looking out for his daughter. He hadn’t even responded when Tommy smiled, like he knew what Joel was about to say.

“About time we added her to the patrol rotation, anyway,” he said. “Thought you could make sure she knows how to shoot, show her the ropes. We’ll go out with her later this week, see how she does. She can pair up with you after that, assuming all goes well.”

“Sure,” Joel said before he could do the smart thing and push back on it. “For a bit at least.”

“Great,” Tommy smiled, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Appreciate it!”

Joel stood on his porch and watched his brother leave before he sighed and went back into his house. He sat on his couch and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands for a moment. He’d just need to keep it together for a few weeks. Get you up to speed and set up to go on patrol with someone else and make sure that you weren’t about to take off in the middle of the night while taking Ellie with you. He’d gotten himself to a life that was satisfying, even if it wasn’t necessarily happy. He had people he cared about, a community he liked being a part of, a home to come back to at the end of the day. He didn’t want to want more than this. You were dangerously close to longing, to wanting more than he had.

But if you were friends with Ellie, he’d have to check in on you.

He considered drinking before seeking you out. That’s what he wanted to do, anyway. Drink or sleep and put this off. But he decided to bite the bullet and walked to your house. He frowned when he got there, the lamp in the entry way on. Joel remembered you turning it off when you got home the last time he was here. He remembered everything you did when he’d walked you here that night four months ago. But it was after nine. He’d never seen you in the Tipsy Bison, never seen you stay at the mess hall for a meal - always taking your food and all but fleeing with it. Ellie’s had been dark when you left. Where the hell were you?

He headed for the stable, not sure where else to check for you when a thought crossed his mind. What if you did have someone in town, someone Tommy hadn’t noticed? A place you’d be after dark when the day was done, someone who you didn’t ask to stop at the end of your walk, who got to run their fingers over your skin and feel how soft he knew you must be, who got to push his coat off your shoulders and undress you bit by bit.

Well, that would have to be a good thing, he thought to himself as his stomach twisted and his chest got tight. That would mean that you had ties to the community and he wouldn’t need to worry about checking in. He could keep his distance and try not to think about someone else touching you the way he wanted to touch you. Fuck, what if someone was touching you…

He tried to ignore the relief that was so deep he felt it in his marrow when he found you at the stables. No one else was around, even on the road outside and he didn’t think you were expecting anyone. You were in a stall with one of the horses, running a brush over her, still wearing his coat even though it was plenty warm and you were singing. It wasn’t loud - he got the impression you were trying to keep it down, to keep from drawing any unwanted attention and not spook the horse - but it was powerful, your voice strong and clear. Without the music - especially the bass line - it took him half a second to place the song, but you were singing The Chain. It was slower, more lilting and less forceful than what he was used to but he liked it. He smiled at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone singing Fleetwood Mac. Especially not someone who was good. Damn good. And you were, you were really fucking good.

If it had been before - before the outbreak, before he had the responsibility of being a father and he still had the dream of being a musician - and he heard you sing, he’d have approached you. Hoped to have latched onto your talent, your voice, hoped that you’d let him have anything to do with a sound like that. Now, he just listened to it, basked in it, let your voice seep into him as he tried to hold onto it, onto you.

You came to the end of the song and you hadn’t noticed him there, your usual hyper-vigilance lessened when you were focused on something else, and you pressed your forehead against the side of the horse’s head, saying something quietly to it that he couldn’t quite hear.

“You’re good,” Joel said. You jumped and spun, your eyes wide and doe-like, frantically looking for either a place to hide or a way to attack. He wasn’t sure which. He held up his hands as he pushed off the post he’d been leaning on. “S’OK, not going to hurt you, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Your body relaxed some and you picked up the brush that you’d dropped in your panic. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to sneak up on you,” he said, stepping closer. You watched him and adjusted, sticking close to the horse. “Promise. Just hadn’t heard someone singing that song in a long time and didn’t want to interrupt. You really are damn good.”

“Thanks,” you said, cautious and cagey as you moved to the other side of the horse.

“You play?” Joel asked, moving to the wall of the stall you were in. He propped his arms on the top of it, keeping his hands visible, hoping that would help make you less nervous.

“Play what?”

“Anything,” he laughed a little. “Just sound like you know what you’re doin’ with music so I was wonderin’ if you played.”

You looked at the horse, starting to brush her side.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “Yeah. It’s been a few years, but I play. Could play. Sure I could play again if I had the chance.”

“What do you play?” He asked, watching you, the tension slowly leaving your body.

“Guitar,” you said, focusing on the horse and not looking at him. “Piano, violin and fiddle, drums. Like a kit, don’t know much about full percussion, don’t want me on a marimba or something…”

“So you really know music,” he smiled a little, picturing you with a guitar, your hair falling forward as you bent over the body of the instrument in your arms.

“Somethin’ like that,” you stopped brushing and looked up at him. “Can I help you with anything or do you just like spying on people?”

“I was hoping to talk with you actually,” he said. “If you have a minute.”

“I’m just grooming Renaissance here,” you said, nodding to the mare. You kept the horse’s body between him and you. “Now’s a good a time as any.”

“Why are you here so late?” Joel frowned. “You need more help in the stables? Because shouldn’t need to work all…” “I like being here,” you cut him off, defensive. “Renaissance came back covered in burrs today so I figured I’d give her a good once over. I don’t have to be here, I want to be here.”

“OK,” he said gently.

“OK,” you said, a little calmer, looking back at the horse, brushing her again. “What did you want?”

“Wanted to see how you’re doing is all,” he said. You looked at him with narrowed eyes over the back of the horse. “And talk to you about addin’ you to the patrol rotation.”

You frowned at that.

“Patrol?” You said. You had the doe eyes again. “Like… leave Jackson. Go lookin’ for trouble.”

“Not lookin’ for trouble,” he smiled a little. “Just checkin’ in on what’s goin’ on nearby and intervening before there’s trouble. Think you’d be good at it.”

“What would I need to do?” You asked.

“We’d need to make sure you can shoot,” he said. “Already know you can ride just fine.”

You snorted at that.

“Pretty sure you can spot a threat from about a mile out,” he teased a little and your eyes met his, less big and scared this time. Instead they were sharp - in the clever way - and soft.

“I can shoot,” you said. “And I’m good at watching for threats. Except when they’re you sneakin’ up on me at the stable, apparently.”

Joel shrugged.

“Maybe you just know I’m not a threat.”

“Do I?” You asked, head cocked.

“Still wearin’ my coat,” he said. “Don’t think you’d do that if you thought I was a threat.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I get cold.”

“And I’m not a threat,” he said. “At least, not to you.”

You finished brushing the horse and put your hand on her haunch as you came around back of her to the wall of the stall. You stood in front of him, the closest you’d ever been to him voluntarily. His breath hitched.

“So how’s it work?” You asked, looking up at him.

“How’s what work?” He’d damn near forgotten what he was talking with you about.

You smiled a little.

“Patrol. How’s it work?”

“Right,” he said quickly. “Well, I’ll take you out sometime in the next few days here, test your shooting. Assuming you’re good with that, you’ll go out with me’n Tommy for a bit, make sure you’re OK with it, then we’ll work you into the regular rotation. You’ll go out every few weeks, usually with the same partner so you’ll get used to workin’ with someone.”

You nodded slowly.

“And I’d be armed, right?” You asked. “Assuming that’s why you’d need to know that I can shoot?”

“Yeah, Bambi,” he laughed a little. “Not gonna send you out there without a gun.”

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

You opened the stall and put the brush away before getting a blanket, Joel watching you the whole time.

You frowned.

“Anything else?”

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he said. “Assuming you’re done here…”

You looked at him for a second, considering him.

“OK.”

You went back into the stall and put the blanket over the horse and gave her a quick scratch and whispered something to her before closing the stall behind her. You shoved your hands in your pockets and started off, Joel careful to be close but not so close that you tensed up and watched him, all vigilant caution.

“So,” he said after you’d been walking for a minute. “You likin’ it OK? Jackson, I mean?”

“I think so,” you frowned a little. “It’s hard to really know. Haven’t been around people like this in so long, feels a little like I’ve been dropped onto an alien planet and I’m still figurin’ it all out.”

Joel nodded.

“I was the same way, comin’ here,” he said. “‘Course I’d been in a QZ for the 15 or so years before but that was different, place was nothin’ like here. But I had Tommy’n Ellie when I got here… Still. It took adjusting.”

“So you’re Ellie’s dad?” You looked up at him, your hands in the pockets of the coat, your brows drawn together.

“No,” he sighed, though that felt like a lie to say. He felt like Ellie’s dad. He felt like Ellie’s dad more than he felt like he was anything else that mattered. “But I’m her guardian. We traveled here together, from Boston. She had family out this way, or we thought she did, anyway. Hired me to bring her out here since I was heading west, anyway, lookin’ for Tommy. Her people were gone before we got here and… Well, by then I didn’t want to leave ‘er anyway…”

You nodded, a sense of understanding in your eyes before you looked at the ground.

“So she’s your daughter in the ways that matter,” you said, looking back at him after a moment.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded.

“And you did something that pissed ‘er off good,” you said, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Joel said, laughing once at the simplification of it. “Somethin’ like that. Yeah. It was the right choice but I understand why she’s mad. Don’t expect her to forgive me for it, but… I hope she will. I hope she’ll understand, one day.”

“Kids are hard,” you said, looking straight ahead. “But she’s a smart kid. She’ll understand it at some point, if it really was the right thing.”

Joel nodded. He wasn’t sure Ellie would ever see it as the right thing. But that was OK. He knew it was. Anything that kept her alive was the right thing. That was all he needed.

“You’re friends with her,” he said. He’d meant to ask it but it hadn’t come out that way.

“She decided we were friends,” you smiled a little. “But… I like her. She’s… she’s something else.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely that,” Joel laughed.

He stopped at the gate to your front walk and you stood in front of him, your hands in the pockets of the coat you’d kept, looking up at him and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to take your face in his hand and pull your mouth to his and kiss you. The moonlight caught on your hair and made your eyes shine and he wondered if you’d taste sweet, he felt like you would.

“When is good to do the shooting stuff?” You asked.

“Tomorrow work?” He asked, both hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t do something stupid. “Afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you nodded after thinking for a second. “Shouldn’t have any patrols coming or going then, should be able to leave the stable for a few hours, be back in time for the evening feed.”

You gave him a tight smile and opened the gate, closing it behind you, the signal clear: he stayed on that side of it.

“Thanks,” you said. “For walkin’ me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, no problem.”

He watched you head up your walk and, before he could stop himself, called out.

“I have a guitar.”

You stopped and turned, frowning.

“What?”

“If you ever wanted to try playin’ again,” he said. “I have a guitar, you can come by… Borrow it. If you want.”

Your face lit up at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anytime you want. Just… just come by.”

You nodded.

“Thanks,” you smiled, a little wider that time. “I might do that. Night, Joel.”

He took a long look at you.

“Night, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Joel just might have a bit of a crush here and Bambi might just be less freaked out by Joel than she is everyone else in town.

Hey, progress!

I do have a taglist but Tumblr is making it a mess so whether it works is questionable. HOWEVER I will add you if you ask in the comments below :) Whether it works or not is up to the Tumblr Gods.

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate you taking the time to read this and for following along with Joel and Bambi's journey. It means the world. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #yearling #tlou fanfiction

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sinner-sunflower · 2 months

Text

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 9/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Whew! Even though there's so much work later, I somehow wrote a kinda long one.

Also,

I have the major plot points down now. As for the ending, I saw a comic on twitter and will definitely take inspiration for it.

I'm very excited for this.

Will be reqriting this better after it's finished and MAYBE.. I'll have the confidence to post it on ao3.

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Charlie doesn't dare to move even after her father left. She doesn't know how long she stayed kneeling on the ground, staring at the spot where her dad once was.

She can't stop her tears. Is this stress? No. Maybe it's the daddy issues Husk is always talking about.

She hurt her dad again. But he also caused her hurt first and-

Charlie: No! Oh my god. Do I really think that?

Lately, they are becoming each other's undoing. She knows she has the right to be angry, but ...

She can see that he's really trying. Doing everything she asks of him, fixing the hotel, staying at the hotel to help and support her, even getting along with Alastor - now that she thinks about it, what's up with her dad and Alastor?

That's how Vaggie found her- still on the ground, face adorned with dried tears tracks, and definitely deep in thought.

Vaggie: Sweetie? You okay?

Charlie: Vaggie

The dam broke and she was crying again. Charlie hugs her lover tight. Vaggie's shirt was getting wet from tears and snot but she just hugged back just as tightly.

Vaggie: What happened?

Charlie: D-dad.. he- he- wahhhhh

Vaggie: Is he okay? Did something happen? Did he.. did he do something to you?

Charlie: No, Vaggie! More like I did something to him! He was here, in our room, wanting to talk! But I-I-I was so happy. And then he said he was leaving and-and then he said I'll be handling pride and- I wahhh

Charlie didn't know how she had any more tears left to give. Just rethinking what just happened makes her even more miserable.

Vaggie: Wait, wait. Leaving? Why? Didn't he just got here and what about the thing in Sloth??

Charlie sniffs.

Charlie: He said it's related to it- that he needs to find something, no, someone. He didn't want to go without saying goodbye and I just.. exploded.

She nuzzles her face on the fallen angel's neck.

Charlie: I don't want to lose my dad, Vaggie.

Vaggie doesn't know what to say if she's being honest. She wants to be mad at Lucifer. Like, how could a parent who claims they adore their child amongst everything else abandon said child. Lucifer wasn't there when Charlie wouldn't get out of bed whenever her birthday came up, he wasn't there when Vaggie caught her staring at the family portrait full of wishful thinking, or when she cries calls out to her parents in her sleep, or-

But she can't. Because he's trying just like she was back then. They're both doing a little redemption on their own- it just happens to be for the same person.

So she understands. To hurt and to be hurt.

Vaggie: I haven't known your dad for very long, Charlie. But I can tell that... he cares. Yes, he's awkward, a bit socially inept, and has his own issues. But, there's one constant in everything he does.

Charlie: What's that?

Vaggie: You, dummy. He loves you more than anything. He probably made the deal with Heaven to spare Hellborns because of you, now that I think about it. My point is, there is no way in the seven rings of hell that he won't put you above everything.

Charlie is about to protest but Vaggie cuts her off.

Vaggie: Uh! He will. You know why?

Charlie: Why?

Vaggie: Because you're his daughter. It's just how parents are.

Vaggie pulls them both up and they gaze into each other's eyes lovingly.

Charlie: What would I do without you, Vaggie?

Vaggie: Still be your amazing self, I'm sure. I hope you guys resolve this, though. Maybe you could convince him to try other dating options. I don't like this whole thing going on with your dad and Alastor.

They laugh and share a kiss.

Her girlfriend was right. This is how her dad is. He's willing to be better for her.

I want to be better for him too.

....

Wait.

Charlie: What?!

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What to look forward to in Part 10:

Lucifer in Sloth.

Going to Earth.

92 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 7 months

Text

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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