#he was recent enough that he was still alive when he got turned back so they took him to the hospital. now junpei's stuck w 2 crackheads
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Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.
CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷
Masterlist - Taglist Form
It's not his fault, it's yours.
He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience.
But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names.
It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you.
During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something.
Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.
But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”
He didn't say it back, but he felt it more.
Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die.
He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level.
More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced.
But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win.
He missed you.
He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive.
Maybe.
“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back.
He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died.
But he sees you.
The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced.
Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his.
“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”
You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart.
“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true.
“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”
There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.
“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”
“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last.
He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again.
This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive.
But again, time goes by before meeting in person again.
And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first.
“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.
And he knows it's you.
It gotta be.
And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.
“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated.
He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”
“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders.
“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face.
“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”
“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.”
And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last.
The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.
Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind.
Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building.
And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one.
The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.
“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”
To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.
And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met.
Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time.
And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms.
Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased.
And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child.
And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.
Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester.
He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed.
The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know.
And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing.
The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room.
Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day.
You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left.
“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?”
A son.
He had a son.
He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed.
He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.
And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.
The happiest night of his life.
He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him.
And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one.
Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body.
His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back.
So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it.
And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk.
“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”
Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans.
“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”
“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall.
More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you.
But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit.
“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”
The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself.
“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”
And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name.
“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”
And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm.
You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”
You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed.
“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second.
He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more.
“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.
“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.
“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.”
Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are.
Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.”
“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”
He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.
Taglist:
@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z
@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212
@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock
@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk
@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat
@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw
@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting
@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708
@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr
@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @thatoneslvt
#call of duty#call of duty smut#ghost simon riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod smut#call of duty imagine#ghost imagine#cod imagine#cod mw2#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley x you#ghost cod#mw2 ghost#ghost mw2#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley#cod mwii
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jjk & kny self inserts - icarus is all the way back from feb last year (i made him & aether but then giyuu consumed my soul and i havent touched them Since...) and i just made kuro today
#neros art tag#kny oc#kny oc art#the curse of forever thinking my self inserts are the hottest bitches around while borderline hating myself irl</3#all the fandom inserts get one of my names from my list#icarus was from back when i had neon green hair (beloved<3)#kuro bc it means black like nero. also he should have blue hair but i didnt think it'd fit#i could make a ver where he does ig#not today tho. is bedtime#icarus gets to be the mary sue insert hes a very very distant relative of the gojos (eyes) and can manipulate cursed energy#theyre in the area when junpei & mahito go apeshit at the school and they find the disfigured corpses#mahito cracks open the soul to manipulate it- icarus cant do that but once mahito cracks it open he can fuck with it after the fact#so he starts turning them back to people corpses (theyre dead he cant bring them back to life) up until they find junpei's potato body#he was recent enough that he was still alive when he got turned back so they took him to the hospital. now junpei's stuck w 2 crackheads#kuro however is just vaguely sad and angry. him & giyuu bond over a long mission and he dies after taking a hit that wouldve killed giyuu#tsutako was worldshattering sabito was soulcrushing kuro was the confirmation of a pattern#loserboy giyuu posting#he wasnt nearly as close with or hurt as much as tsutako & sabito did but it ripped the wound open again#also obligatory playlist of songs i listened to while drawing: icarus - devilman no uta(nickstradi/HowL) destruction (joywave)#kuro - tom's diner(suzanne vega/DNA) alexa play the blues (PREACHERVAN) pepper tea(bellevue days)#i think theres supposed to be another one but i clicked through a bunch of songs & i cant tell which one it is in my recently played :(#alexa play the blues is kinda odd one out bc i had to go somewhere and i started thinking abt him in the car listening to it so its include#hes not sadfuck all the time. just most the time#oh ya fuck icarus' eyes arent always black. only when its activated. longer its activated the more it bleeds- it kinda stains so he always#looks like hes been crying lmao#really wanna redraw all the little jokes we made abt them they make me giggle
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Desperate Villain Danny AU
(this is a 17 yr old danny)
It started out slowly.
First, a few of Danny's less active Rouges stopped showing up at all. He didn't really notice, and just assumed that they had finally had their Fill of their Obsession for a while and would simmer down for a bit.
Then, some more of his Rouges stopped showing up. No big deal, but he is getting a little concerned for them. They had definitely not had their fill of their Obsessions yet, why did they stop?
Then, the worst started happen. All of his actual Ghost Friends start to disappear. Ember, Kitty, Johnny, even Amorpho, they all start to not show up at all in the Living World.
He goes looking for them in Realms, but he can't find any of them whatsoever. He tries asking around, but everybody else noticed the disappearances much earlier than him and began to hide away from whatever was taking all of the strong Ghosts. He can't find anybody, and the ones he does find won't tell him anything (or don't know themselves)
It takes weeks of searching, but eventually he gets his answer.
The GIW show up in Amity again after a period of absolutely no activity. They have stepped up their operations HARD. Advanced Ghost Hunting Equipment, Much more Competent Agents, and most worrying of all, they seem to know that Phantom is friends with Sam, Tucker, and Danny Fenton.
The GIW comes to his house for a Meeting with his parents, where he overhears them offering his parents a position in their Organization as Head Scientists. While there they also manage to plant Bugs in Danny's room somehow. Although he finds them quickly enough and destroys them.
And then, one night during dinner while his parents are ranting about the GIWs Labs, they mention something that cinches it for Danny.
"And today we even got to Dissect one of the Spooks! It was that Mind Controlly one, you know the one with the blue firey hair stuff that sang a bunch! We're going back tomorrow to continue our Study, this time we'll see how long it'll pretend to experience pain before it decides to give up on tricking us!"
That night, Danny packed up all his things, destroyed the Ghost Portal alongside everything else in his parents Lab, and left his house.
He tracked down the GIW Base, saved Ember from her Cell, and decimated the surrounding Area. No survivors, none of the research is preserved, and he left the Site Director alive to question him.
Turns out, the GIW had managed to Reverse Engineer the Ghost Portal from that brief period of time where they had taken control of Fenton Works. They had been using their own Portal to kidnap any Ghost they could get their hands on. Using the research from those subjects, they perfected their Ghost Hunting Tech and started going after the bigger fish.
"But good luck finding it, Ecto Scum! The Portals location was hidden to everybody, even me!" He said.
"Where are the others!" Danny cried. He was losing control of his appearance by this point. After seeing what they had done to Ember, he was too angry to maintain his Humanoid Form successfully. Even now, with most of his control, he could hear the Static in the air around him, and see the Glitching of his hands as they clenched this Monsters clothes.
"Scattered!" He said with a crazed laugh, "We knew we couldn't contain all of them, so we send them to all of our sites across the Country! You'll never find them!"
Without another word, Danny plowed his arm through the man's chest.
He turned around, picking up Embers weakened Body, before beginning his long flight to Wisconsin. Vlad still owed him a few Favors after all, and honestly his mentorship offers seemed VERY Tempting right now.
(Why reject him if you don't care about keeping your dad alive anymore?)
...
The JLA had recently received a distress signal from somewhere in the middle of some random Forest in Illinois, but when they got to the location, all they found was a crater filled with the ruins of some kind of Military Base, and so so many Bodies.
They had managed to figure out that this was a Government Site owned by an organization called the GIW. A Paranormal Investigation Wing of the Government focused on the study and capture of Supernatural Beings called Ecto-Entities, otherwise referred to as Ghosts.
As it turns out, an Ecto-Entity that had been terrorizing the local town for a few years now had made a drastic change in normal behavior and had attacked the GIW Base that had been posted there.
They would have destroyed it years ago, but this one was unnaturally powerful. It had eluded their capture and terrorized the Town for years, but they had too much pride to contact the JLA and admit that they needed help. And honestly until now, they didn't really need it. The Entity had been entirely confined to the singular town, and had not strayed from that behavioral Pattern in the 3 years since it's inital sighting. They had made the difficult choice to leave it there, sacrificing one town in exchange for the rest of the country.
But now they did need their help. This Entity, this Phantom, was one of the most powerful beings that had ever recorded, maybe even The Most Powerful. The fact that it had left the Secluded town it usually frequented meant that it was loose to wreak havoc across the rest of the world.
The JLA Needed to Find this thing, and Fast.
#Dp x dc#Dpxdc#Dc#Dcu#Danny Phantom#Villain Danny Phantom#Morally Grey Danny Phantom#He doesn't care about killing GIW agents#He'll still avoid Civilians though#Danny accepts Vlads offer#He doesn't care anymore cause he has no reason to refuse#He doesn't care about being evil#He doesn't care if his dad dies#And Ellie once told him that she still held some love for vlad so that's not really too big a conflict of interest#Speaking of Ellie...#He hasn't seen her in a while...#🤫#Foreshadowing???#Hmmm
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bad girl
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
word count: 4.1k
summary: you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months with your mom and relatively new stepdad. he walks in on you masturbating, and is surprised at the sort of porn you've been watching. no outbreak. very smutty. 18+
warnings: ooh god where to begin??, reader is kind of a detached menace but in a fun way?, masturbation, porn watching, infidelity, choking, pussy slapping, pussy eating, unsafe piv, dirty talk, big dick, daddy kink, bit of breeding kink, age difference (unspecified, but reader is late 20s, joel mid-40s or whatever you like really), begging, slight dom/sub vibes, readers mum is a ho, somewhat degrading language (probably other warnings????)
a/n: honestly don't know what happened here. one minute i was working on what i intended to be a lil daddy kink drabble and then it turned into a whole other beast. also--i'm a recently out nb person but feel most of my writing has focused on fem readers. any nbs out there who'd want smut more tailored to us??? doesn't come up in this fic, but in my heart joel miller is bisexual and would make for some gr8 gender play ahhhh
you had only met your stepdad twice before he married your mom, and only a couple of times since, and you could never quite get a read on him. he seemed quiet and gruff. upsettingly hot with his salt and pepper hair, and his biceps, and his little bit of tummy, but seemingly entirely unattainable (how your mom pulled him, you'll never know). your mom didn't have the greatest track record as far as not cheating on her husbands, and you didn't know how much or how little he knew about her past, but you were incredibly curious how long this one'd last.
he's polite. enigmatic. a man of few words. he had two kids, who you hadn't actually met yet, but they were a few years younger than you and away at college--one daughter from a previous marriage, the other adopted when he was a single dad.
you'd only been staying here for a couple of weeks, usually only home for two months out of the year to do some freelance work and catch up with friends, but since your mom got remarried (again) you're adjusting to the new dynamic. you didn't have the best relationship with your mom, but you didn't argue. didn't fight. didn't have enough interest or passion to try and make her angry. you had a mutual understanding--you'd stay here for a couple months of the year, rent-free, and you wouldn't get into it with her about how her four husbands and a dozen boyfriends in between them in the nearly thirty years you'd been alive had simply made you impassive towards most men, knowing they'd never be able to stick around, and instead you took what you wanted and then ditched them before they could ditch you. to say you had daddy issues was just the tip of the iceberg.
there's only been one family dinner night since you've been back, but calling it awkward was an understatement. you were sat in almost total silence, as your mom scrolls on her phone and joel scoops up some mashed potatoes and slaps them onto his plate.
"so, uh-," he begins, clearly not sure how to start a conversation, "how's your work been going? guessing it's pretty slow these months since you're able to take the time away? your freelance stuff going well?"
"sure," you agree, "it does get slow this time of year. freelance has been good. got a couple of projects i'm enjoying working on."
there's another silence.
"your momma said you'd been dating someone you met at your work? how's that been going?"
you laughed, thinking back to one of the only guys you'd mentioned to your mother, less out of a closeness to him and more because you wanted your mom to get off your case, "honestly, that ended a while ago. he was a pretty terrible lay."
joel clearly wasn't expecting that, and you smirked at him as he choked on the beer he was sipping, coughing and trying to cover up any spittle. your mom gently pats him on the back, still staring at her phone, not even listening. typical.
not sure how to follow this up, joel just shrugs and puts on a stoic face. "sorry to hear about that, sweetheart. what a shame."
you'd be lying if you said that didn't make your heart flutter just a little.
you've attuned to the general framework of home again. you've noticed a few other things, too. first, your stepdad seems to be taking a whole lot of evening shifts. second, your mom seems to be out when he's out, too, but always manages to slip in just before he gets home. finally, if there's one thing you know about joel, it's that if he's working an evening shift, you can pretty much guarantee that he's gonna be at least an hour later coming home than he says he'll be. more often than not, two. you've been here for sixteen days, and in the eleven days he's worked late, he's been late late. and this morning, joel said he wouldn't be home till at least 9pm.
it's only 5pm, so you think absolutely nothing of it when you pull up your favorite porn site, careless about keeping your bedroom door closed.
sometimes it takes you a long time to decide on what porn to watch. sometimes you want the release, and just need something that'll get you there quick. and then there are some days where you know exactly what you want. you know exactly how you want it, and you know just where to find it.
you've got an incognito browser up as you scroll through the page till you find the section you're looking for. click open a couple of videos in separate tabs. skip the ads.
place the laptop beside you, choose one to start with, and watch as the scene unfolds.
you need this. it's only been a couple of weeks since you've gotten laid, but you and your most recent fuck buddy have more or less broken up and you are extraordinarily horny, with no outlet besides your hand (and, technically, your trusty magic wand, but you forgot to bring your charging cable and she's only got so much life in her).
you focus on the scene, slowly dragging your fingers along your pussy lips, your other hand pinching and twisting at a nipple. you listen to the moans on screen as you tease yourself, dipping a finger into your tight, wet heat, and then adding another. the friction begins to build, and the pressure you're putting on your clit is just right.
"fuck", you let out a breathless moan as you start finger fucking yourself in earnest. your hips are stuttering and you feel it building so deliciously and you absolutely don't hear the knock on your door and the slight clear of a throat.
and then you register it, a couple of moments later.
you look up from your laptop screen and towards your door and you see your stepdad, cup of coffee in hand, and he's staring at you with an expression you can't parse, one eyebrow raised.
you buffer, taking a moment more for you to react to him, and you manage it in the worst possible way.
"fuck!!" you shout, slamming the laptop shut and practically flinging it away from you, pulling your hand from under the sheets and not-so-subtly wiping your slick on your duvet, and pulling your top back down over your tits. it's all done in a split second, and it was neither low-key nor quiet. you know your face is growing more flushed by the moment, and you can swear joel is actually smirking.
you stare each other down before you finally speak, "what are you doing home so early?"
"i live here," joel shrugs, takes a sip of the coffee, and then realises he might sound like a bit of a dick. "just- uh. just found out some... shitty news. decided to take the day off."
you almost forget the situation, quick to voice your worry--"are you okay joel? what's going on?"
he snorts. opens his mouth and closes it, as if he's decided better of it, and then opens it again. "just found out your mom's been stepping out on me. well. thought it was true for a while, but my brother just saw her with some guy. guess that's all the confirmation i need." he laughs, wryly, and his smile is dangerous.
"well shit," you say. it doesn't surprise you in the least, but you're not sure if it'd be better or worse to acknowledge that, and then you immediately remember your newest stepfather just caught you masturbating and you're deeply self conscious again.
"i'm really sorry, joel, but you've clearly-" you clear your throat, "caught me at a bad time. is there something i can help you with?"
he looks you up and down for a moment, and you can swear he's looking at your mouth for a second longer than you'd expect.
"well," he says, "i'd come up to see if you wanted anything for dinner. i was gonna order takeout."
there's a long pause.
"but now i'm curious about what i interrupted."
your eyes widen.
"let me see your computer. i wanna know what you were watching that you're so embarrassed of."
you immediately grab your laptop close to you and shake your head. this is something joel cannot see. "absolutely fuckin not," you tell him, and his smile gets sharper.
"i wasn't askin', sweetheart."
there's something dangerous about him now, and even though it frightens you, it's somehow exciting, too. commanding. persuasive.
he puts his mug down, and you barely think about what you're doing when you hand him the laptop, type in the password, and turn it around towards him.
you can't bare to look at the screen at the same time as him. it's fucked up and weird and he'd have every reason to avoid you forever after this, but there's a small (but persuasive) part of you that's telling you that this is a line he's willingly crossing, and there's a charge beneath it, and maybe you could get from him exactly what you want.
you study his face as he scrolls down the page. you hear him click, but no sound starts playing--he must be looking at the other tabs.
his eyes widen, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding as you watch his face.
you want him to say something. you need him to say something.
he hits play on one of the videos and the room is immediately fills with the sounds of slick flesh and moans and cries of "oh, daddy, oh daddy please--"
it's only then that he looks at you.
"well aren't you a filthy girl, hmm?" joel ridicules, "and don't think i don't notice the trend with these little videos of yours."
it's humiliating. you almost expect to die out of embarrassment right on the spot.
"look at some of these titles," joel continues, "stepdaughter gets fingerfucked by stepdaddy, stepdaughter's pussy pumped with daddy's cum ASMR, jesus christ girl-" he laughs, incredulous, "letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole".
joel's staring you down and you still haven't said anything, and that just won't do.
"these the usual kinda thing you like to touch yourself to? or is this a new subject now that you're home, spending time around your stepdaddy?"
"i-" you start, "i don't know, i-"
it's not an act, you're pretty fuckin frazzled, practically cocooning yourself in your covers and you shrink back in shame, and this seems to amuse joel to no end
"how's this, sweet girl," he says, and you realise he's been getting closer and closer to you and now he's seated only inches from your bare legs and pussy, still covered up with your blankets, "you tell me to stop, and i'll leave this room right now and close the door and we can pretend i never saw anything here-"
"no!" you cry out, and then slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide at yourself while joel starts to chuckle.
"or," he continues, "you can let your stepdaddy make you feel real good."
"yes-" you cry, and not a moment later, the blankets are being pulled back and he's stroking two thick fingers along your cunt.
"there's a good girl," he says, and actually groans as he dips into you, collecting your slick, "so fucking wet for me. it is me you've been thinking about, ain't it?" he asks.
"yes joel," you say, because it's the fucking truth. you've been thinking about him nonstop for a while now, thinking about how his muscled arms look in those stupid threadbare t-shirts, thinking about the sigh he makes when he's had his first sip of a cold beer, thinking about the silver of his hair, the brown of his eyes, and the mere idea of what his cock might taste like. "i've wanted you to fuck me since i first met you."
he lets out a fuckin growl and presses his fingers into you. "such a cute little pussy, already dripping for me, huh?" he moans, and it's two digits pressing into you, but you've been working yourself up for a little while now and you're already swollen and wet and they slip right in. he finger fucks you for a moment before turning back to the laptop.
"which one's your favorite?" he nods at your screen, "which one do you watch and wish it was happening to you?"
you swallow and click back to another tab.
"letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole?", he snorts, "you really are a dirty girl, aren't you? get up off the bed." he commands.
you obey, standing up and kicking off the panties still around your ankles.
"and take that top off," he commands, and you do, pulling your top up over your tits and melting at the sound of his groan at seeing you bare for him.
he sits down on the bed with his legs spread, jeans still on. "you come sit here by daddy's lap," he says, and you do, sitting in between his thighs, inching back ever so slightly until you could feel his hard cock straining against his pants.
he runs his fingertips down your body, down your breasts and torso, dipping into your bellybutton, before drawing little circles on your hips.
'hit play," he says, and you grab the laptop next to you and resume the video.
he copies the video, rubbing one hand along your pussy and the other holding your thighs open.
"that's it," he coaxes, "keep those legs open for me, yeah?"
you're about to agree, when he starts stroking little circles around your already stimulated clit and the ability to speak leaves you. all you can do is focus on trying to keep your legs open, but your thighs are already almost quivering and he only chuckles.
"barely even touched you and you're already stupid."
you tried to nod and let out a sad whimper, tipping your head back and resting on his shoulder. he keeps his thumb pressed on your clit while he pumps his middle and index fingers in and out of you. it's so wonderfully, deliciously wrong. it feels addictive.
"you're doing so good, sweetheart, fucking on daddy's fingers like that," he praises, and it sends another spark of electricity building in your centre. encouraged, you start rocking your hips towards him, meeting each thrust of his fingers. "ready for another one?" he asks, and you nod vigorously.
he takes a moment to hold open your pussy and lean over you to look at it, stroking his fingertips along the outer lips, gathering some of your arousal, and prodding back your hood to get a little direct contact with your clit that leaves you writhing and gasping. he's smirking again, and presses a third finger into you. he curls them upwards, fucking the digits into you so nicely, and you enjoy the sensation as your arousal builds and builds and builds and-- as you come, you white out for just a moment, and as you come back into reality you can hear him speaking to you, "oh you're clenching so tight on my fingers, messy girl, look how you're dripping so nice down my fuckin' wrist. you're a nasty little slut, just like your momma huh? but i know you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, ain't ya?"
you continue to grind on his hand as his fingers stay buried in you, as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. only when you still does joel pull his fingers out of you.
as if hypnotised, he examines the arousal coating them. then, quick as anything, he pops his fingers in his mouth and sucks off your slick, immediately looking sheepish as though this was the only line he'd just crossed.
as quickly as he had become shy, he switched back to overt confidence. "y'just taste so good, sweetheart," he says, and then starts stroking your pussy again. "you're gonna let me have a proper taste, aren't you honey?"
you nod helplessly. it's so fucking good, it's too fucking good.
he scoots out from behind you and you buckle a little, toppling back onto the space he left. he's in front of you now and presses your thighs apart again, dropping to his knees on front of the bed's edge. he runs his tongue up your inner thigh, chuckling at your whimpers as he bites and nips at the sensitive skin. he takes a tentative lick, drawing his tongue towards your clit, circling it gently, and then dipping back before pulling off you for a moment.
"y'taste so fucking nice," he breathes, and his exhale on your slick pussy is exquisite. "i could just drink you up."
he presses the hood of your clit back once more, leaving his thumb there, applying perfect pressure as he flicks his tongue directly on that bundle of nerve endings and you feel like you're on fire.
"fuck, joel, yes-" you cry out, but he pulls back and shushes you.
"shhh," he says, "you don't call me joel right now, baby."
"i don't-?" you say, taken aback by the sudden lack of contact. then it clicks. "daddy-"
he smirks, "that's a good girl, sweetheart. wasn't too hard, now, was it?"
"no, daddy," you agree, and he's already diving back in, pressing his tongue into you in long strokes, letting you grind against his nose, his lips, the scratch of his cheeks, every movement he's making is so fucking perfect.
as he devours you, he presses his fingers into you again, and then you can't help yourself. you rut up on him, totally unable to practice anything resembling self restraint. in between strokes of his tongue, he pulls back and tells you, "i'm gonna need at least one more from you, baby, before you even get to think about sitting on this cock."
you let out a crazed whine, feeling joel's chuckle as he dives back in, eating your pussy like he was made to do only that.
he continues to build you up and up and without warning, you reach your peak again and come all over his face, your wet pussy drenching him and he closes his eyes and eats you through it like a man starved.
"fuck, baby," he says, "you taste so damn good, i could do that all day long."
you're splayed out, totally bare, the slick on your thighs cooling with the lack of contact. joel's looking you up and down, admiring your flushed body as he starts to undo his belt and drop his pants, your stomach flipping at the soft thunk of his belt hitting the floor.
you could feel, through his jeans, that his cock wasn't small, but you sure as fuck didn't anticipate just how thick and heavy it would hang between his wonderfully muscled thighs.
"you'd better get over here and fuck me, old man," you tease, and he snorts, before pulling you towards him by your ankles and landing a smack on your bare pussy.
"watch your manners, girl," he sneers.
"fuck!" you cry as you ride out the sensation, and he moves to slap you again, but your thighs are so slick his hand slips when he makes contact and accidentally presses you just right on your overstimulated clit, and to the surprise of both of you, you come again instantly.
he watches you, wide eyed, as you scream and your pussy clenches around nothing.
"you're just too easy, sweetheart," he laughs, "can't believe that little boyfriend of yours was such a bad lay when you're so goddamn easy. barely have to touch you and you're coming again and again for me."
"he'd just put it in, give it a couple thrusts, groan, and roll over," you snorted, loving the way joel's jaw clenches at your words, "besides, i prefer an older man."
"that's a damn shame, honey," he growls, "but i'm sure we can get ya taken care of."
you both realise at the same time that the video is still playing, as some particularly loud moans come through the speaker. you look over, and you swear you can see joel's eyes dilate as he watches.
that's a good girl, the man in the video croons, taking all of daddy's dick. wanna breed you full of me, fill you full of daddy's cum, you'd like that, huh?
you swallow and look back at joel. he looks ravenous.
"you love watching such dirty shit, don't you, baby?" joel asks, and starts teasingly rubbing your swollen clit again with his forefinger.
"yes daddy, please-" you agree, trying to chase the sensation, "please, i need your cock daddy, fill me up just like that-"
he lines himself up, notching the head of his thick cock at your entrance, and you're practically vibrating with need. it's not a want, it really is a need, if you don't have his cock right now you're probably gonna die and you need it you need it you need it so fucking badly
he laughs, and you realise you said all of that aloud, but you don't even have the capacity to feel truly shameful right now, you just need to feel him.
"c'mon, jo- daddy," you whine, "gotta feel you-"
"uh-uh, sweet thing," he chides, "i think you need to beg for it. you've got no manners, and knowing it's your momma who raised you it's pretty clear why, but you need to learn how to be a good girl. daddy's gonna teach you how to behave right here and now. got it?"
you let out a sharp exhale. "yes daddy."
"now beg."
two words shouldn't have such an ability to wreck you, but they do, and before you know it, you're rubbing your drooling pussy up against his cock head, rutting against him, begging and pleading-
"please, daddy, please fuck this wet pussy, you know how wrecked you've made me, turned me on so good, made me drip for you, made me come again and again on your fingers, i just wanna make you feel good, wanna take that cock, take everything you have to give, fuck me hard and fast and please, daddy, please--"
he cups your chin for just a moment, stroking a thumb along your jawline.
"that's better," he soothes, "what a good girl," and then he's slamming into you.
good fucking god he's huge, and you can swear you can feel every ridge, every vein, the swell of his shaft, the notch of his head, he's stretching you out deliciously.
you tilt your head back, leaving your throat bare, and let out a rough plea of, "choke me, daddy," and he doesn't need to be told twice, wrapping his hand around your neck and putting pressure in exactly the right spot. you can already feel the haziness building, and his thrusts keep coming fast and deep and you can feel the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.
"jesus christ, girl," he whines, and his thrusts start to falter a little, "you're gonna be the death of me. letting daddy use this nice little pussy just so he can feel good-"
his words begin to tip you over, and you know what you want-
"come inside me, daddy," you choke through the pressure around your throat, "fill me up, make yourself feel good, give it all to me-"
that does him in, and he lets out a strangled moan, coming inside you right as you come one last time, walls clenching tightly around his throbbing cock.
he releases your throat, and you both lay there for a minute, both totally fucked out.
after a minute, joel gingerly pulls out of you and lets out a weary groan.
"gonna be the death of me, woman," he snorts, and walks to your bathroom to clean himself up. he comes back a minute later with a cloth. you're expecting him to wipe you up, but first, he takes a moment to examine the cum that's dripping out of you.
"look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he smiles, presses his cum back into you, and then wipes down your slick thighs with the cloth.
"shit, joel-" you say, "who'd have thought you had that in you, old man?"
he rolls his eyes but he's still smiling, and then you sit together for a minute in comfortable silence. joel stands up after a while and grabs his coffee mug. takes a sip that you know must be cold by now, but he seems unbothered.
before he can leave, you stop him. "so-" you ask, "is this a one time thing, or?"
he shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "no reason i need to let your momma know what i know yet. and i reckon there's a lot more fun we can have before that happens."
you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and your shoulders relax.
"good." you say, and joel smiles.
"good," he repeats. "now, i know i've worked up quite an appetite and i'm guessing you might have, too. you pick the takeout, i'll go pick it up."
"thanks, joel." you smile, and you're already thinking of the next time as you scroll takeout options on your phone.
that's it. you're fucking addicted, and goddamn you can't wait for your next hit.
#joel miller smut#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#joel miller x f!reader
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If I Should Stay
Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Eddie runs.
He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.
He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”
Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”
“Yeah?”
“Y’alright, kiddo?”
“I think I hallucinated.”
Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”
“I didn’t take anything.”
Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”
He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”
Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.
Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears?”
“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”
Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.
When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.
Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”
He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”
He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”
“Steve. He told you.”
“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”
Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”
“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”
She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.
“Because I die?”
She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”
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jet
🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies
word count: 6.9k
main masterlist
Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.
It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.
You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.
You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.
Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.
He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.
Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.
“Infected?” you asked.
He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.
You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.
Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.
You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.
Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.
That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.
Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.
You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.
It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.
It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.
You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…
“Not much out here, is there?”
His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.
You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.
“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.
“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.
Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.
Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.
And you knew not to push him.
The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.
He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.
Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.
“You can lie down, too, y’know.”
He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.
“Joel.”
You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.
He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”
Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.
You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.
“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.
“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.
You shrugged. “So do you.”
“What good is both of us tired?”
You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.
Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.
You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.
It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.
Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.
“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”
You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.
“You okay?”
“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.
“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.
Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.
You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.
You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.
He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.
Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.
He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.
Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.
You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.
He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.
And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.
Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.
He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.
You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.
When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.
You do that already, you told him.
‘s different outside. You don’t understand.
It can’t be any worse than in here.
You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.
You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.
Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.
His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.
He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.
Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.
You’re both good at getting each other…there.
Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.
It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.
It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.
Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.
“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.
“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.
“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”
He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”
He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.
That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.
“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.
“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”
Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.
Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.
“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.
He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.
“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.
He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.
He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.
“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”
“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.
“What’s your horse called?”
“She ain’t got a name.”
You tsk. “Bad owner.”
“We ain’t their owners.”
“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”
Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”
“What if something happens to them?”
“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”
He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.
You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.
It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.
Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.
He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.
“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.
“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”
The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.
He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.
“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.
He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.
“Just had to find somewhere better.”
“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”
He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.
“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”
Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.
You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.
His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.
“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.
“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.
“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”
“Mhm.”
You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.
You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.
Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.
Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.
“Want you to…want you…”
He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.
His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”
Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.
“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.
His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.
He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.
Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.
His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.
“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”
You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.
Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.
Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.
“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.
“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”
He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.
He blinks. Decision made.
“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.
And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.
You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.
“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”
You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.
He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.
Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.
“Since you don’t wanna listen.”
The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.
Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.
Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.
“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.
“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”
He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.
His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.
“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”
Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.
You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.
“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.
You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.
“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.
You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…
It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.
Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.
Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.
His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.
You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.
You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.
“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.
Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.
“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…
It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.
He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.
Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.
Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.
“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.
He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.
“Fuck, Joel.”
“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”
You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.
Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.
Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.
This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.
Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.
This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.
And maybe that’s the point.
He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.
And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.
He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you’re proving that you’ll let him.
Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.
Probably, possibly. Definitely.
Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.
“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.
When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.
“Baby…” he whispers.
“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”
Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.
“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.
“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”
Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.
It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.
“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.
You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.
With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.
The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.
“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.
“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.
“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”
Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.
Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.
You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.
Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.
Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.
Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.
He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.
You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.
Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.
Before you know it, you’re sleeping.
Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.
The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.
It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.
You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.
His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.
You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.
He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.
Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.
His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.
“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.
“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.
“Horse’s name. Ghost.”
“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.
He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”
Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.
“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.
And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.
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#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel the last of us#the last of us#the last of us hbo#the last of us fic#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#no outbreak#soft!joel miller#dom!joel miller#post outbreak joel miller#post outbreak joel
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Hii, I had a request...Robb and Jon having a crush on the same girl, maybe she could be the Bannerman daughter or something, just lots of teasing and rivalry and angst :)
Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Share
Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader
Platonic: Sansa x reader
Word count: 3975
This is part one. Part two will be the smut.... (this was just too long to make into one part)
Masterlist Here
A/N: This is set with Sansa as being 15 and Robb, Jon, and the reader being 18. We’re also gonna pretend Westeros is still in a chill time with King Robert drinking away their money with Ned still alive and safe in Winterfell.
Robb and Jon were used to random Lords and Ladies staying at Winterfell for periods of time but when they saw their newest guest both had the same though. Gods she’s pretty. Your family where Bannerman’s of House Stark, ever loyal to Lord Eddard. Sansa had recently started whining, much to her brother’s dismay since it was all she talked about, that she had no need to be cared for by Septas or wet nurses any longer. She was determined she was old enough to not need to be constantly watched. However, when Catelyn suggested a lady in waiting Sansa jumped at the idea.
This was how you now stood in the courtyard at Winterfell, preparing to start your new journey. It was an honour for your house when you got the raven. Sansa was slightly younger than you, but you had remembered meeting her before at feasts and balls. You had also met Robb and Jon at these events but neither one had taken notice of you till now.
Robb slapped Jons shoulder to get his attention when he noticed you climbing out your carriage. “Is that (Y/N)?” he asked his half brother who looked up from where he was plucking arrows out the target he had just been practising with.
Jons eyebrows scrunched as he looked at the now woman who climbed out the carriage, “She did not look like that last time,” he said with a low voice.
“Tell me about it. Wait is she Sansa’s lady in waiting then?” he said, eyes not leaving the lady who was now being greeted in a hug by his mother.
“Your mother told us that last night,” Jon said rolling his eyes before glancing at the woman who was now merrily chatting with his half-sister, “Do you ever pay attention?”
“Not really,” Robb said with a chuckle as he took the bow from Jon, “Maybe I should from now on,” he joked. Robb did not attempt to hide his glances like Jon did. After all Jon was a bastard whereas Robb was used to the attention of the Northern ladies. However, this one had yet to look at either boy. “C’mon give me some arrows,” Robb said
“You hate archery,” Jon said despite handing him one of the arrows he had just plucked from the target. He moved back to allow Robb to line himself up with the target but couldn’t help noticing the glances he kept firing at (Y/N) while he began to load the bow. “Oh, gods you’re trying to woo her with your shit archery?” Jon smirked at his half-brother.
Robb shot Jon a glare, “Will you shut it?” he hissed glancing over to see if she had heard, which of course she had not, “Besides im not shit,”
“You’re not good,”
“Fuck you,”
“No thanks,”
“Fuck off Snow,”
Their scawbling however did get them noticed “Boys!” Catelyn called across the courtyard with a sharp look before turning back to the girls.
While Jon smirked Robb had noticed you looking over at him, a faint smile ghosting your lips that made him even more determined to show Jon he was wrong. Robbs eyes kept flickering back to you as he knocked his arrow and drew the string back. He enjoyed the feeling of your eyes on him as he did so. He finally turned his attention to the target. Taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders back, he lined up his shot, breathed in then. Release.
The arrow hit the second inner ring of the target. Robb grinned to himself, knowing secretly that Jon was right about his shooting skills. But when he looked back, he realised you were no longer there. He sighed but when Jon began to laugh, he felt his skin grow hot. “Fuck up,” he said, shoving the bow back into Jons hands.
“You tried to woo her with archery, and she didn’t even stay to watch,” Jon couldn’t control his laughter. He had noticed you walking away as soon as Robb turned his attention to the target but did not say anything as he wanted to enjoy the view of you undisturbed. The bonus was of course his brother’s ego being knocked off its high horse.
“Please like you could do any better,” Robb grumbled as he retrieved the arrow.
“I could,” Jon said, chest puffed, and shoulders raised, “Girls like me,”
“What girls?” It was Robbs turn to laugh, “I can’t even imagine you flirting,”
“You tried to flirt with an arrow,” Jon shot back.
Robb rolled his eyes, “Mate trust me,” Robb said, putting a hand on Jons shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, “She likes me,”
“She’s been here for two minutes,” Jon rolled his eyes.
“We’ll see,”
“Yeah. We will,”
“Fine,”
“Good,”
“Whatever,”
Theon walked over to the bickering duo, “What are you two on about now?”
“Nothing,” The brothers said in unison before storming off in separate directions.
----
What did Robb know about girls anyway? Jon wondered as he walked the halls of Winterfell. Sure, he had girls’ attention because of his position but that doesn’t count. Besides Jon knew how to flirt. All be it he didn’t do it very often, but he was sure in theory he would do just fine. Why did Robb deserve you more than him anyway?
His mind soon went from frustration to thinking of you and suddenly his problems began to melt away. When he had noticed you, it was like all the air had been knocked out his lungs. Out of all the ladies he had seen you were by far the prettiest. The wide smile you wore when greeting his sister had warmed his heart from all the Norths cold. All he had been able to see was your hair and face due to the large clock you had been wearing but as his mind wandered, he couldn’t help but wondering what you looked like beneath it.
Jon was quickly snapped out his thoughts when he felt someone clash against his chest. His arm shoots out to grab the persons arm to steady them. “Apologies my- “Jon looked up to the person he had literally ran into and he felt his cheeks flush. “My lady I did not see you,” he stuttered, eyes flickering away from you in embarrassment.
“Jon?” You asked and he could hear the smile in your voice, “I hardly recognised you. It has been so long,” Jon couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face when he saw your wide grin. “You’ve grown,”
“As have you,” he said before his face fell, “not like that well like not in a bad way my lady- “
“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I know what you mean Jon. You have never been anything kind to me,”
Jon cleared his throat as he tried to stand tall, pretending he hadn’t made a complete arse of himself in front of you, “Are you off anywhere particular this evening my lady?”
“So formal,” you laughed hitting your shoulder as you continued your walk, Jon quickly turning to follow, “I was going to sneak to the kitchens to try squeeze a snack in before dinner. Mother forgot to pack us any food for our travels,”
“You don’t have to sneak my lady. You are a guest im sure lord stark would be more than happy to see you fed,”
“But is it not so much more fun this way?” you said in a low teasing voice, “I remember how we used to sneak away with Robb during feasts. Don’t act like you don’t like it this way,” Jon blushed at your words as a completely different potential scenario flashed across his mind, “Perhaps you could escort me to the kitchens?” your voice snapped him back to reality.
Jon cleared his throat, “Of course my lady,” Jon said as he took your arm you had outstretched to him.
You rolled your eyes as your arms linked, “You don’t need to be so formal Jon. No ones listening anyway. Besides we have so much caught up to do,” Jon had almost forgotten how chatty you had been but was glad to see the quality had not gone away.
Jon laughed along in your conversation, and grinned when his own jokes made loud laughs come from your mouth. Within minutes he was already so comfortable beside you like he had spent a lifetime by your side. However what Jon hadn’t noticed was Robb Starks icy glare when he spotted the two sneaking down the kitchen stairway.
---
When dinner time had rolled around you were informed by Sansa you would be joining the Starks at their table, which you found out included Jon which you were secretly pleased about. When you walked in the room the only ones at the table were Catelyn and Robb who grinned when you entered. You tried to hide your blush when you noticed his perfect smile. Robb had also changed from when you last saw him, and he had grown at least a head in height.
At both ends of the table sat a larger chair, one of which Catelyn was currently occupying. Three chairs ran down one side of the table, four on the other. Robb sat beside his mother on the side with three chairs, leaving two left. “Lady (y/n),” he greeted when you entered, “I hadn’t known you were joining us my lady,” he had. He had asked his mother who shot him a silent questioning look, “Allow me,” he said as he pulled the chair next to him out for you.
You laughed lightly as you took your seat, Robb pushing it in for you with a smile before taking his own chair. Sansa rolled her eyes at her brothers’ antics as she sat beside you, “She’s my friend not yours,” she grumbled.
“Sansa!” Catelyn said sharply, “She is our guest as much as she is your lady,” you did your best to not laugh but a small smile graced your lips, “Sorry about that (Y/N),” she said with a sorry smile.
“Its okay Lady Catelyn,” you said.
“Call me Cat,” she said with a smile, but the conversation was interrupted as the youngest three Starks sprinted into the room. “Behave you lot,” Cat said as she helped the youngest Rickon into the chair beside her. Bran and Arya took the two closest chairs to the empty one at the head of the table, leaving the one across from you free. Robb mentally scowled at his siblings but figured sitting beside you had the far superior advantage.
When Jon arrived, their father was with him and as the two took their seats the food was brought out. The way you and Jon smiled at each other made Robb wanna roll his eyes, but he resisted as he acted the perfect gentleman. As dinner went on Sansa kept stealing your attention which Robb figured was at least better than Jon doing so. He thought he would never get to talk to you.
Until that is you turned to him, “Don’t you think so too Robb?” your voice brought him back from his daydreaming about you. he hummed in response as he came out his daze, “I was saying to Sansa how she should go horse riding more often. Riding can be so thrilling after all,” Robb tried not to blush when he thought of what he would rather you be riding. “You do still enjoy horse riding?” you said with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh yeah of course,” he said quickly, “Sorry my mind has been preoccupied lately,” he said causing Jon to roll his eyes, “but Sansa trust her there are few things better than it. (Y/N) always knew how to have fun,” he said with a smile which made you blush and quickly turn to face Sansa, but Robb had saw it. he looked at Jon with a slight smirk which only made the boy roll his eyes and look away. When Robb heard Sansa and you discussing plans to go riding tomorrow, he had a plan.
-----
Robb wasn’t being weird by being close by the stables around the time he knew you would be coming by. He just was tending to his own horse. Definitely of course, a complete accident that he was there when you appeared with Sansa in tow laughing about something. “Robb,” you exclaimed when you noticed him, “Are you joining us?” you said glancing at Sansa.
Sansa quickly shook her head saying a firm no. Robb rolled his eyes at his little sister, “I was just tending to my horse my lady,”
“That’s sweet,” you said as Sansa went off to retrieve her mother’s horse which she had said she could borrow before they decided to get her one of her own, “So many lords just toss their reigns aside when they’re done,”
Robb chuckled as he stepped away from his horse and followed you to yours, “Do you ride often my lady?”
“I try to at least go a few times a week,” you said as you took you went to saddle your horse only for Robb to step in.
“Allow me,” he said as he readied your horse for you.
You laughed gently, stepping back to allow him to do so, “Thanks Robbie,” you said as he did up the leather and clasped.
Robb couldn’t help his blush at the nickname you had been using with him since childhood, “Its no problem,” he assured before stepping back from the horse, “That’s you all set,”
“Help me up?” you asked as you stepped closer to the horse. Robb couldn’t help but notice your slight smirk when you had asked and with a quick inhale and a sudden wave of confidence, he stepped forward to pick you up by your hips and place you on your horse. You giggled as he did so and quickly steady yourself on the saddle, “I didn’t realise how strong you had got,”
Robb grinned at your comment, “Thank you my lady. Sometimes I don’t notice my own strength,”
“Then I feel bad for whoever ends up at the other end of your sword,” you laughed.
“You should watch me practise someday,” Robb said, “I do almost everyday at the training grounds,”
“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled down at him as Sansa trotted over on her horse. “Ready?” you asked the girl.
“I am if you stop flirting with my brother,” she smirked before riding out of the stable. Robb would’ve been embarrassed if he had not seen how your face had flushed and how you quickly rode after her. wait till Jon heard what you had been saying.
----
“You can’t just grab a ladies’ hips,” Jon said, wide eyed. The pair were in the training yard getting ready to practise some sparring.
Robb smirked, “Really? Cause I did,” he said as he grabbed his practise sword off the rack, “Good hips by the way,” Jon rolled his eyes at his brothers’ antics, “You’re just mad that she likes me,”
“Maybe she was blushing because she was so embarrassed at the idea of flirting with you,” Jon said making Robb grumble, “At least she thinks im funny,” he added while he took his stance across from Robb.
Robb struck first. “Funny looking,” he said as their swords clashed.
“Fuck up,” he snapped, and Robb grinned. The grin fell when Jon took his own strike, quicker than Robb and harder too, “Are you really gonna let a girl come between us?”
As soon as Robb caught up to his brother’s speed, he replied, “If you won’t admit she likes me and not you then yeah,” Robb smirked only making his brother groan and knock Robb hard enough to drop his sword.
Robb cursed under his breath as he picked it up and took stance again. However, as he was doing this Robb happened to notice a certain someone walking into the training yard, arms linked with his sister. Robbs jaw almost dropped as he saw the new dress you must have recently made that was far more form showing than any of your other cloaks had been. He could see your curves even under the thick fabric and it made him strike his next blow even harder.
Jon was almost caught off guard at his brother’s seriousness however he had sparred with Robb long enough to know he only fought like this when he was angry. While he didn’t see the anger in his eyes, he knew how he would mess up. Jon only had to spar another few blows with the Tully boy before his footing got sloppy and Jon was able to knock his legs out from under neath him. “Cheap shot,” Robb spat as he pulled himself up from the hard ground.
Soft claps rang out over the training ground and Jon spun to see what had caused his brothers sudden intensity. And gods did he understand when he saw the smile perched on your lips as you clapped for him. Jon turned back to his brother with a smirk, “You’re just made she likes me,” he said emulating his previous words.
Robbs sword moved before Jon even had a chance to raise his own causing him to need to duck to dodge the blow. Sansa had never seen her brothers practise with such intensity or for any of their sparring to last so long. she glanced at you who was watching the pair intently and suddenly seemed to realise her brothers’ peculiar actions for the past week. “We should go,” she said softly.
At this point Robb had just managed to knock Jon to his feet. Again, you clapped before reluctantly drawing your eyes away and continuing your walk with Sansa. You couldn’t resist waving to the pair however as you were walking past. You smiled at the dopey grins on their faces as they waved back.
----
For the next few weeks, the pair continued their relentless bickering and it turned into a competition of sorts. Every time one managed a private moment alone with you the other was around the corner to get the same. Jon would go out of his way to escort you to places you already knew the way to such as the kitchens or gods wood, but you never complained, enjoying his jokes along the way. Robb began to escort you and his sisters horse rides, much to Sansa’s annoyance, and suddenly took far more of an interest in the library after he noticed your frequent visits. One of Robbs favourite sights was watching as you curled up with a book in an armchair by the fire in the library. He thought you didn’t notice his shameless stares and gazes, but you had.
You had also noticed the way Jons cheeks tinged pink each time you laughed at his joke or touched his arm. Robb did not blush the way Jon did, but you began to notice his lingering touches when he helps you on your horse or past you a book off the top shelf. The attention was something you had grown rather fond of and weren’t about to complain about.
Sansa however was a different story. She was sick of her brothers bickering, something all the Starks agreed upon but only she had noticed why. She was also sick of her brothers both crashing her talks with you or stealing you away. “You do realise they’re both totally in love with you?” she asked as you sat with her in her chambers doing some embroidery, the one place they wouldn’t disturb you.
You blushed at her words, “I wouldn’t say they’re in love,”
“Okay but you do know that they like you like you,” she clarified rolling her eyes. You had grown fond of the admittedly sassy Sansa Stark, “They’re gonna end up killing each other,”
“That’d be no fun,” you fake pouted before laughing as she rolled her eyes, “What do you want me to do? I didn’t ask them to fight over me,” even as you said it the words felt silly. Sansa sat her threads down, giving you the classic Sansa face you had grown to hate and love all at once. “Fine, I’ll talk to them,”
“Thank you,” she smirked before turning back to her threads, “Maybe they’ll finally give us some peace,” she said and all you could do was laugh at the irony of her demanding your attention while being upset about her brothers doing the same.
---
You hadn’t expected to talk to the boys as soon as you left but as you were walking from Sansa’s chambers to go find them you paused when you heard Robbs voice around the corner. “Maybe you should just back off,”
“Why do I need to back of?” When you heard Jons voice you slowly crept closer to the corner, pressing yourself against the wall just before the bend to hear properly, “Not everything is about you Stark,”
“Same for you Snow,” the venom was practically dripping off their voices. It would be concerning if the sound hadn’t sent a shiver up your spine at the hotness of the situation. The two most handsome men in Winterfell arguing over you? how could you complain?
“Well maybe we let her choose,” Jon said.
“Maybe we should,” Robb spat back.
Taking a deep breath, you decided to reveal yourself as you walked round the corner. Jons eyes grew wide when he saw you emerge and Robb quickly spun on his heels, his jaw slackening slightly at the sight. “My lady- “he began to stutter.
You held your hands up and he quickly stopped. You took a deep breath as you glanced around the corridors, “I think its time we had a little talk,” you said to the boys as you walked closer. The two almost hung their heads in shame, “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you said as you brushed past them and began to walk to your chambers.
The pair followed silently, tails between their legs when they realised, they had been caught. “This is your fault,” Robb mumbled but he groaned when Jon stuck his elbow into his side.
Luckily your room was not far, and you were soon ushering the pair in, latching the door behind you before facing them with your back pressed against the door. “What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked, eyebrow raised with a secret idea toying in your mind.
“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going that cute shade of pink again, “Robb and I well we- “
“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.
“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush.
Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,”
“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently.
“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. Pushing yourself off the door, you walked closer to the pair, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”
Part Two Here - Competition
Game of Thrones Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy
#robb stark angst#robb stark fluff#robb stark x reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark#robb stark smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine#jon snow angst#jon snow#jon snow smut#jon snow fluff#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader
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seven days, six nights
5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader
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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.
warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)
A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.
“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-”
“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact.
“But the battery-”
“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”
Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.
You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.
Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.
Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.
Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.
That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.
Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.
The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.
He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.
Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.
You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.
“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”
Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.
Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.
Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.
Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.
This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.
A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.
That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.
Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.
You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.
The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.
It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.
Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.
That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.
You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.
The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.
Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.
If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.
So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.
---
Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?
By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.
It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.
What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.
He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.
On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.
That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.
He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.
As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.
“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.
He speaks your name.
Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.
“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.
You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.
You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”
He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.
He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.
“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.
The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”
You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.
He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”
The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.
You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.
You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.
“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”
“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.
You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”
“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.
His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.
“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”
“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.
His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.
“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.
---
You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.
He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.
Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.
Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.
Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.
Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.
Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.
You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”
Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”
You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.
He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.
“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”
You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.
“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.
Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.
It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.
Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.
Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.
Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.
He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.
He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.
Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”
Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.
“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”
Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.
His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.
Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.
“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”
“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.
You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.
“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.
“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.
Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.
You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.
“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”
The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”
You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.
You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.
Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.
Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.
He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.
He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”
Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.
“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.
You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.
Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”
You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”
He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”
You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”
“Like I taught ya?”
“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”
Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”
His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.
---
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Can you do Yan detective x murder reader
(If you want a name which is optional I got a few, Jason,Kyle,Ashton <- [most recommend in my opinion],Frank)
I hope it was okay! Sorry for not posting anything for so long-
Had small problems with my mental health and school
TW; mentions of death, murders, blood, yandere behaviour, kidnapping, stalking
reader is gn
Yan Detective x Murderer reader
Requests open
The messenger strikes again! Whole group of highschool friends were found dead.... click to find out more!
Ashton bit his thumb as he read another article that night. His tired eyes scanned the painfully flashy site. His co-worker sent him a few of the articles along with this one. For anything that could help him catch the murderer.
Hands shaking and lips pressed into a thin line.
So many people have died recently.
He closed his eyes before getting up and walking to the balcony to smoke. The best stress reliever he had right now.
The night was cold. The beautiful once view from his tenement house now covered with ruthless modern architecture. It looked fucking ugly.
He took a deep breath in, the smoke burned his throat slightly. It felt nice, he exhaled watching as the gray smoke slowly dissolved in the air.
The case he decided to take seemed simple.
It started with one person. Judy Millers.
Very pretty young adult, she came from a wealthy family. Ashton actually knew her, back in the day they went to high school.
A queen bee. He was lucky enough not to get crushed by her. People loved her despite her being an absolute asshole. Judy looked like she was dragged out of some highschool drama. Wealthy, pretty and known for being a bitch.
Her father found her dead in her bathroom.
Ashton remembers that night so clearly, when he walked into the bathroom the stench of blood and death overwhelmed his senses. Eyes watering.
Judy was in more than a bad shape, he could barely recognize her. Face slashed,he could see parts of the bone.
She was naked, and the girl was gutted like a pig. Homicide.
His eyes darted to the wall behind her head.
“It’s not so funny now is it?”
That’s how the murderer got their name, messenger, it sounded slightly stupid but it was a name nonetheless. After Judy, the messenger killed more and more people. Oddly enough they were all from his old high school.
He swore to the father that he will solve the case, but months passed and he still hasn't caught the killer.
Suddenly he heard the door open. Someone walked into his apartment, they were slowly approaching him.
He didn’t move, but a smile appeared on his lips. Wide, unnatural he waited as the person behind him got closer.
Slowly the person wrapped their hands around his waist. The stench of blood hit his nose in an instant.
They whine. He chuckled as he threw away the cigarette.
“Someone got to them before me, can you believe it?” Their voice was rough, but oh so beautiful. It made Ashtons heart burn.
“Oh, oh my love I’m so sorry.”
He turned around to hug them back, kissing their head. It was messy, the blood started to already dry out.
“You should take a bath y/n, the blood will be hard to get out, huh?”
They nodded, smiling at him before dragging their body to the bathroom. He watched them disappear behind the doorway. He must admit, you look hot in bloody red.
Truth to be told, he found the killer or well the killer found him.
After a few of the murders, he decided the question the people who went to the same highschool and were still alive.
You were the last person on the list, and man when he saw you again after all these years the feelings hit him back. You looked like a wreck, dark circles under your eyes and he swore you had the smell of death on you.
Man, even after all these years you were so so lovely.
He had fallen for you again.
From then on he started to watch you, even getting to your house. It was full of evidence, and plans to kill everyone who bullied you over the years. He saw the photo of judy with huge X and knife plunged into the middle of her face.
He admits he might have got off to the smell of blood on your clothes.
You were the messenger, and he was so sure but he didn’t give you away. Hell, he planned to steal you away actually.
He might have killed a few people along the way, mostly co workers.
Some got too close, some asked too many questions. He couldn’t share you. He couldn’t share his case.
You were his, you were his to understand. To solve. To catch.
He watched you kill some of the people on your list, dreamily sighing as he watched you laugh maniacally as you did.
You almost died once, not expecting the victims friend coming back early you didn’t notice them slowly creeping on you with a knife. You were oh so lucky he was near.
He saved the day, successfully killing that fucker only to find you were nowhere to be seen. He felt so disappointed. He didn’t even get a chance to even talk to you.
Then he found a small gift. A single finger and bloody message.
Every week he got a small body part, along with some threatening messages, but in Ashtons mind, those very love letters. He cherished them.
Then you got into his house, full of rage, bloody, ready to kill him. He didn’t fight you, you looked so beautiful. His heart rammed in his chest as you were ready to stab him.
His hands grabbed your face and he kissed you. You bit his tongue and blood filled his mouth.
It was so romantic.
Let’s say you didn’t leave the house for a good year after that.
He kept you in his bedroom for a whole year, finally he had you.
You suffered a whole year, in his grip, answered his questions with a wide smile, describing the murders he already witnessed. Music to his ears.
He made his love known, he killed the rest of your victims and brought you their hearts. He watched as you ripped them apart.
After that one year, you fell for him too, and that’s how both of you got to this point, and he knew, you won’t leave him.
#yandere detective#yandere male#yan detective#yan male#yandere#yandere oc#yandere blog#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere male x reader#yandere male x gn reader#x reader#x gn reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#oc yandere#yandere x darling#oc#gender neutral y/n#murder reader#yandere detective x murder reader
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Unrequited
Pairing- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales
Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.
CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence, depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity, unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposals)
WC-5.2k
A/N- I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I’m just going to apologize now for the angst but it will get better…eventually. Happy Frankie Friday. @triplefrontier-anniversary
[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
Chapter 1 Love sick
adjective: love-sick
in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.
Frankie hates how everything feels the same. When the wheels touched down and he exited the plane, it smelled the same. All of his favorite places to eat, the usual stores, the same amount of unbearable traffic. He wanted this to feel different when he returned home. Like he expected his friends and him to be waiting at the airport to greet him with open arms. Like they would roll out the red carpet for him because they all missed him so much. How could he expect that when he couldn’t bother to tell anyone he was still alive let alone returning home? That’s like expecting to win the lottery but never playing. That delusional part of your brain where you imagine how you would spend the money and how you wouldn’t tell anyone.
He’s home now.
The bile starts to rise up in his throat as he approaches the neighborhood he was going to spend the rest of his life in. He was going to live a peaceful, quiet life with him. After Colombia they would have enough money to do whatever they wanted. Relax and finally work out some of that trauma from their shared experiences in the military. He supposed everyone did settle down anyway. What choice did they have after coming back with practically nothing. He heard Will eventually got married and Benny took what little money he had and opened up a boxing gym. Santi-
How was he supposed to return to this life with him after everything that happened in Colombia. Santiago finally gave him everything he wanted on a silver platter, everything Frankie had been asking of him for years. Love me out in the open, Love me out loud, Love me without fear or consequence of failure. So he did. He finally told him ‘after this, no more playing games. We do this for real or not at all, I'm all in if you are.’
His response was to flee. One month turned into six, six months turned into a year. Now three years later he’s coming back to the man he broke and he’s not sure what he’s expecting but it’s making him nearly break out in hives. The outside of the house looks a little different but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s brighter and somehow cleaner. Maybe Santiago had it painted recently. He huffs his bag out of the cab suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier than any pack he’s carried through the jungle with rain soaked clothes all the way down to his socks.
The bench is still there on the front porch that Frankie found at a garage sale. The first piece of furniture that graced the home they picked out together.Frankie told the guys it would be easier if they bought it together. He’s not sure who he thought he was fooling but it certainly wasn’t Benny and Will. Tom didn’t give a shit, he was such a cheap bastard he truly believed they would buy a house together to save money. Another example of Santiago going along with whatever Frankie said as long as he got to call it theirs.
His hands are sweaty and his arms are shaky as he raises them up to knock on the door. Santiago hated doorbells, such a weird quirky thing he never explained makes him laugh now, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He waits…an uncomfortable amount of time before he thinks he could just turn around and act like he was never here until the door flies open.
You’re standing there practically beaming at him, he’s sure he’s got the most dumbfounded look on his face as he takes you in. You’re adorable as you lean against the door frame in a pair of leggings and a shirt he sort of recognizes, waiting for him to say something. Maybe he has the wrong house and you’re just sparing him the embarrassment. He’s completely bewildered when you surge forward and wrap your some around his middle, he instinctively despite you being a complete stranger embraces your hug. You’re like liquid in his arms as you press your chest to his and he can feel something awaken in him. The amount of warm bodies he found himself under or on top of over the years couldn’t compare to this consuming feeling. The worst part is how innocent you seem and how his thoughts are nothing but. He can smell you, a hint of orange and peach. Body wash, shampoo or perfume he doesn’t really care at the moment.
You mumble something that’s inaudible as you pull back and look at him, something sparkling in your eyes. “I was beginning to think you were like bigfoot, or the Easter bunny…or maybe even Santa Claus.” You giggle and it’s something else he has to add to the list. “Forgive me…it’s nice to meet you Francisco.”
“I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” That voice. The low sultry voice he’s sure he could never forget, not even if he tried. Frankie cried the day his phone was smashed and the voicemail Santi had left for him was lost forever. The last one he left, begging for him to come back, to come home. “Sorry she’s a hugger.” You sheepishly extract yourself from him as his body goes taut.
Santi steps up behind you, protectively and it cuts like a knife. His hand starts at the small of your back and wraps around to your front as he pulls you into his chest. You preen at the touch as you lean against him, kissing the dark stubble on his cheek. Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the fire in your boyfriend's eyes, a threatening stare that was usually only reserved for his enemies. He can see it then, shrouded in hurt and anger. She’s mine. Santiago won’t let him hurt you the way he was hurt. Thrown away and cast aside. That’s how Frankie thinks he’d paint the picture but that’s far from the truth. He was sparing him a lifetime of disappointment.
The feelings he had for you are going up in gray smoke like water doused onto a fire. This is a dangerous feeling, seeing you in his place. It’s not your fault at all that you met Santiago and walked into years of love,torment and jealousy. Frankie can tell how blindly you love Santiago, the way he loved Frankie all those years. He would lay down on a live wire for him, take a bullet for him, take public scrutiny and throw away his family’s judgmental stares for him. Being that vulnerable only puts you in danger.
“Invite him in silly.” You nudge Santi and he barely budges as he scoops up Frankie’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. You yelp as he pats you on the ass to coax you inside.
“Come on in Frank, make yourself at home.” His voice is raw and open, like Frankie’s heart. He grinds his teeth at the name he hates and the implication of home. But he deserves that. Santi is going to make him hurt.
****
The house looks relatively the same on the inside.
Some extra plants and a bookshelf, the distinct smell of lavender and vanilla are the only differences. He wishes it wouldn’t look the same, like everything else. It was like he never left, the same couch they used to spend late nights on, watching the same tv that sits in the corner. The same dining table that they would eat breakfast before going to work and dinner after a long day.
“I’m gonna make some cookies, since it’s a special occasion.” You wink at him and start moving around his kitchen like you know everything. The oven is preheated and you're mixing something into a bowl before he can blink. Humming some tune he’s sure he’s heard as he realizes the shirt you’re wearing is Santi’s favorite.
Santi slides up behind you kissing your neck. “Sounds like a good idea baby.” You glance up at Frankie looking a little bashful as you narrow your eyes at Santi.
“Why don’t you go put your stuff down in the spare bedroom.” Santi doesn’t move and that annoys him even more. He doesn’t have to show him where the room is because this used to be his house, still is technically. He stomps down the hall glaring at some artwork and photos he’s never seen. Stopping in his tracks when he sees a photo of the five of them in Delta. A stupid grin on Santi’s face because Frankie’s grabbing his ass while the photo is being taken. The younger faces of the Miller brothers and Tom.
He stops again when he sees the bedroom they used to share. Nothing much has changed about that either. The bedspread and the ungodly amount of pillows maybe…hopefully the mattress.
He sets his bag down against the wall and opens the window to let some air in. It’s stale and muggy so he shuts it immediately. He can still smell you on him and it’s driving him nuts. He got a whiff of Santi’s cologne during the brief greeting. That was different. He stopped wearing the one Frankie bought him on a mission in Morocco. Santi hadn’t so much as touched him during their hello and he’s not sure if that hurts worse than being able to hold him.
His body eases into the queen mattress as he leans back against the pillows. It’s much more comfortable than the previous one. Frankie never cared about the comfort of others and they argued about it. "It's just a spare bed, what's the problem?” Santiago would roll his eyes and he wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. ‘Our guests should be comfortable too.” He didn’t think they would ever have guests staying in their home other than Benny or Will and those bastards didn’t need a four star plush hotel stay. Now he’s a guest, in his own home and he hates how comfortable he is.
He’s exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally. Too fatigued to even stand and turn on the ceiling fan that he’s staring at. He’s just starting to close his eyes when he hears a soft rap on the door. He sighs out in frustration, he needs a break from you right now, you’re too perfect and he’s too broken so he just needs a moment. He goes to protest when the door opens but it’s not you who greets him.
Santiago stands in the doorway with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He looks as though he’s approaching a wild animal in a cage with their favorite treat to calm them down just before they tranquilize them. Frankie sits up as he steps into the room and sets the items down on the bedside table.
“They’re still hot.” His tone is warning like he knows Frankie is going to shove one whole in his mouth the moment he leaves the room and then complain that it burned his tongue.
Frankie wants to say something but now doesn’t feel right. His tongue is heavy like lead in his mouth and his eyes can’t quite possibly say all that he wants to. I love you, I’m sorry. “You look good.” It’s weak, Santiago knows it as he huffs out a laugh.
“You look tired.” It’s said more of a truth than an insult. He’s sad when he looks at him like someone he used to know. Frankie probably hasn’t had a good night's sleep in three years and that is Santi’s only consolation prize. He got a broken heart and Frankie got perpetual insomnia. “You can stay as long as you want Fish…dinner will be ready in an hour.” Santi exits the bedroom, closing the door softly, leaving his new cologne in the omnium of your scent that clings to him.
As long as he wants and as long as he needs are two very different things. He’s just glad as he takes a bite of the cookie that he’s graduated from Frank to Fish. This cookie tastes how you look. Sickly sweet and warm on his tongue. He’s glad Santi has left the room because he didn’t recognize the sounds coming from him as he savored his first homemade provisions in over three years. Surviving on street food that his stomach hated and questionable canned meat products. He can taste you on his tongue as he finishes the first cookie in the blink of an eye. Four of them stacked on the plate before eating dinner seemed like overkill at first but Santiago had tasted your cookies... He gets to indulge in them whenever he wants and this is just his way of taunting Frankie. He knows Frankie is a weak man who hasn’t let himself enjoy the pleasures in life for quite a while. Temporary pleasures don’t measure up to this.
He kicks off his shoes and props himself up against the pillows again as he absentmindedly reaches for another. A cool breeze whips his face as he looks up at the spinning blades. Santiago must have turned it on without him noticing. His mama always used to tell him to slow down and enjoy his food so he does in this moment. The first one he ate with such urgency like it would be his last, this one he can savor the hints of cinnamon and vanilla. The gooey chocolate makes a mess on his fingers. He glances over to see no napkin so he licks it off getting a hint of salt and peanut butter. There’s no way you could know unless Santiago told you. He holds it in front of him to inspect and sees the small peanut butter chips melted in. That was always his favorite and only Santi knew.
It’s much easier to fall asleep as he polished off the last cookie and most of the milk. This one hour felt better than any full night of sleep he got when he wasn’t home.
****
Frankie feels like his body weighs a ton. Waking up from his nap is disorienting as he remembers where he is. Sleeping in a room he never thought he’d be in, in a place he never thought he’d ever come back to. This short slumber after being sleep deprived for so long is like serving someone an appetizer and telling them the restaurant is closing early.
He showed up unexpectedly and you took it in stride. Like you’ve been here waiting for him this whole time to put the pieces back together. Frankie doesn’t think you’d mind if he skipped out on dinner for some much needed rest but his stomach grumbles as he stares at the empty plate next to him. The smell of garlic,onions and peppers coax him out of the bed as he stretches his creaky bones. He can hear laughter and the clinking of plates as he walks down the hallway, it dawns on him that he hasn’t showered in twelve hours but he doesn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. He’s been enough of a burden these last few years and he won’t let you bear the load any longer.
“Hola bella durmiente.” Santi’s teasing voice hits his ears before he sees him. He wants to flip him off but he’s too tired and that feels too normal.
Frankie glances at the time on the oven as you finish plating something that smells like home. “Shit it’s been two hours.” Santi whistles at him to sit down as he scrubs his hands through his hair.
“Don’t worry about it Francisco, this man takes four hour naps.” You lean over setting the plate down in front of him and your boyfriend. He watches you plant a kiss on Santi’s head, not to flaunt it but just because it’s second nature.
“You never take naps.”
“I’ve learned to relax.” Santi says with a mouthful of food as he points his fork. “You should learn to do the same, Frankie.”
He can breathe a sigh of relief that he can be Frankie again, even in jest.
He takes a bite as you settle in across from him, it’s perfect much like the cookies as he closes his eyes not afraid of the moan that leaves him. “Holy shit this is better than Santi’s Chile verde.”
Santi takes your hand placing a kiss on your fingers. “That’s why I don’t make it anymore.”
“Well don’t be shy, there’s plenty on the stove.” You smile at him and he notices then that you changed. A light touch of makeup and a little perfume. Santi’s still in his tee shirt and jeans but you’ve ditched the old ratty Metallica shirt and swapped it for a bright yellow blouse and jeans.
Santi clears his throat interrupting Frankie observing you. “She’s an amazing chef. She takes a lot of pride in her work, and I take my job as the Guinea pig very seriously.” He leans back and pats his belly.
You’re practically beaming at him as you stand to take his empty plate. He gently grabs your wrist urging you to sit as he absentmindedly grabs Frankie’s to serve them up some more.
****
Frankie used to run from his compliments or brush them off as nothing. He was always too afraid of the praise not realizing how hurtful it was to the other man when he would wave him off. Santi loves you in the way he always wanted Frankie to love him.
He’s grateful for the small talk during the rest of the evening. A few beers and a way too nice bottle of wine has him comfortably buzzed as he listens to you talk about how you met Santiago. In true Santiago form he almost ruined it before it even began.
It was at Will's wedding a little over a year ago.Santiago assumed you were a guest of the bride because he’s certain he would remember meeting you in the many years he’d known Will. He saw you just before the ceremony in a navy blue silk suit, the plunging neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. You looked lost and a little irked when he approached you asking to save him a dance.
He looked for you in the sea of unfamiliar faces during the ceremony and again during the reception. It wasn’t until a very unfortunate moment with a clingy bridesmaid in his lap drunkenly telling him about her new piercing that he locked eyes with you. There was a humorous look on your face as you winked at him. Two men approached you in matching white button ups and black ties and you snapped to attention. He could always tell when someone was giving orders and needed to be taken seriously. The men scurry away when you’re done speaking and start gathering plates and cutlery. Your face relaxes again and you wink at him exiting the ballroom as the girl screeches in his ear ‘are you even listening to me?”
“No sweetheart I’m not.” He quickly displaces her from his lap as she stands there dumbstruck by his actions.
He bursts through the doors and is met with a mostly empty kitchen. You’re standing there wide eyed with another girl in the matching uniform. “Finish boxing up the leftovers for the newlyweds and then you’re good to go.” You brush her arm as you walk past and beeline it straight for him.
“Lost?” You raise an eyebrow at him.
“No I ugh…you…-“ He’s scrambling as you stare him down unwavering.
“A man of many words I see.” You pick a piece of lint off his suit jacket and he notes your close proximity.
“You never danced with me.” He teases and you laugh a little. It’s a start
“You seemed to already have a dance partner…and as you can see.” You gesture around the kitchen. “I was a little busy.”
“Oh her…I don’t even know her name.” He winces as you give him an incredulous look.
You’re already walking away toward the ballroom doors before he can recover. He’s hot on your heels, never one to back down from a challenge. “So I can’t convince you to dance with me?”
You spin and he has to stop himself from crashing into you. “Maybe some other time Santiago.” You kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick reminder for any unknown nameless women.
“Wait…how do you know my name!?”
“I was warned about you.” You yell over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen leaving him there stunned.
It took a lifetime of bribes and I owe yous and promises of future baby sitting to get your number from Will. His wife Emma was pissed until you weaved your way into their lives and the rest is history.
****
It’s been at least an hour since you went off to bed, saying your goodnights to both men. They stayed mostly silent on the couch as they stared at some movie on the tv. Neither one of them paid any attention. Just waiting for any signs of life from you to die down in the bedroom down the hall.
Santi knew your night routine like the back of his hand. You’d wash your face of any makeup and apply what he thought was an absurd amount of creams and oils. You’d sit gingerly on the edge of the bed as you applied this lotion that smelled of rose and coconut, taking your time to cover every inch of your body. Smiling at him all the while asking if he’d like to join to which he’d just tell you one of you had to be rough in the relationship. On the nights he didn’t personally see to it that you were passed out you’d read a few chapters of your book before falling asleep with your finger marking the page and he’d gently retrieve it from you before kissing your forehead making sure not to wake you.
It’s this thought that’s ticking away at him as he counts down the minutes silently while he watches Frankie’s leg nervously bounce beside him. He’s sitting in the spot he used to but he feels miles away. Stark contrast to how they used to be on this couch, cuddling and laughing while they talked about their future.
“Do you love her?”
The words that leave Frankie’s mouth rip through the silence like the sound of a thunder clap. Only the light from the tv illuminates the look on Santi’s face but Frankie can see it clear as day. It’s moments like these that Santi’s aware of his high blood pressure as the sound of his heartbeat whooshes in his ears.
“How dare you ask me that.” His voice starts low but the rage behind it is threatening to boil over.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Yes I love her.” He says a little louder, no lie or waver to his voice.
Frankie scrubs his jaw as he huffs under his breath. “I’m glad you moved on.” The sarcasm dripped from his tone and now Santi is seeing red.
Santi grabs the remote, flicking off the tv plunging them into darkness. “You think I just moved on the moment you left. You do remember being the one who left right?” He hates how Frankie can so quickly get under his skin. This is the exact reaction he wanted from him and he took the bait. “I waited for you. I waited and waited until Will had to pick me up off the floor and make me shower and eat and really take a look at the situation.”
Santi stands and paces the room as Frankie watches someone he thought he knew open up like he’s never done before. Santi loved him but he always let Frankie take the lead. He never put himself first and it almost swallowed him up whole. Frankie knows it’s not fair to judge any of his actions but he’s a scared animal backed into a corner and this is all he’s got left. One last fight before he lunges out in hope’s that Santi will tell him something to justify what he did.
“You may have been torn up for a bit but you look pretty comfortable to me.” Frankie gestures around the room as he stands in front of Santi. “You’ve got nice home cooked meals, all your friends, a beautiful house and someone to fuck at the end of a long day.”
Santi grabs his shirt shoving him back down to the couch. “Don’t act like your bed wasn’t warm these last three years. You and I both know how you are Frank.” Fuck he’s back to Frank.
“I didn’t love any of them.” Frankie says as Santi rolls his eyes.
“You want an award for not falling in love with them.” Frank grits his teeth as the sing song words ooze out of Santi’s mouth while he claps his hands in his face.
“You should keep your voice down, you wouldn't want to wake up your wife.” Frankie says and with no remorse Santi knows he’s wounded. A small part of him is glad for it.
With his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down face to face with Frankie. “She’s not my wife, and you’re not my husband.”
****
Santi quietly closes the door as he watches your sleeping form. It’s one of his favorite things to do. The steady rise and fall of your chest, wondering what peaceful things drift in your dreams. You’re wearing one of his shirts and probably nothing else. Majority of your wardrobe when you weren’t at work consisted of his clothing. It stirred something in him he’d never experienced before you. The way he was possessive over you…he never understood why Frankie would act the way he did when men and women would flirt with him until he met you.
How dare Frankie question his love and his loyalty. He was the one who walked away. How dare he look at you the way he did, thinking Santi wouldn’t notice the desire in his eyes.
“Baby, are you coming to bed or do you want to keep holding the door up?” Your sleepy voice grabs his attention as you pat the spot beside you.
He pushes off the door and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.”I thought you were asleep.” His jeans and belt hit the floor with a thud as he sits on the edge of the bed.
“I was but I could hear your thoughts in my dreams.” You sit up wrapping your arms around him. Your hands drift to his stomach, his soft abs flex under your touch as he relaxes against you. You know he wants to say something. The elephant in the room that is Frankie.
“I love you.” His voice barely above a whisper. He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers.
“I love you too.”He shivers as your lips graze the faint scar traveling down his neck. A reminder of something he’s been through with you that Frankie wasn’t there for. His need for you is made all that more evident with the man he loved, loves in the room down the hall.
He shifts so fast your head is spinning as he pins you underneath him. Whatever thoughts were plaguing him before are long gone with his hands roaming underneath his shirt to graze the soft skin under your breast. His lips swallow your whine as he rolls your nipple between his fingers reveling in the way your body responds to him.
You can feel the hard press of his cock beneath his boxers as he rolls his hips into you. Searching for some kind of friction.
“I need this off.” His voice is strained as he pulls the shirt over your head.
You chuckle trying to reach for him as he shoves his boxers down, laughter dies in your throat at the sight of him. The moonlight in the room illuminates his hard cock, dark at the tip leaking precum on the sheets below.
His hands slide up your thighs as he squeezes the flesh between his fingers. His grip tightens as he cups your ass, lifting you slightly to wrap your legs around him. “Look at you…and you’re all mine.”
You’re breathless as you reach for him, pulling him into your chest.”Santi, kiss me.” You don’t have to ask him twice, your voice is like a siren song as he dips his tongue into you. He can taste the mint from your toothpaste and your cherry chapstick. Mine.
He should go slow, work you open like he always does. He drags the tip through your slick folds and a soft whimper leaves your mouth. You’re being too quiet…because of him. His hands gently press your throat as he buries himself to the hilt. A louder whine escapes you, he knows it drives you crazy as he squeezes just enough to have you panting.
“Fuck I need you, I’m sorry.” He releases your throat and starts an unrelenting pace as you quickly adjust to his size. He’s never been this desperate, not willing to make you come on his mouth or fingers first.
Your body doesn’t seem to care as the slick wet sound of your bodies and your pussy clenching with each thrust has him growling in your ear. “I want to hear you.” He wraps his arms underneath you and grips your shoulders.
“Santi…please.” You don’t want to be used for his anger and revenge but you can’t think straight with his cock ramming that spot deep inside you.
“Please what baby?” He fucks you harder as he watches your face contort in pleasure as you chant his name. He bites down on the swell of your breast and you cry out as he licks and soothes the spot with his tongue.
“Santi…I’m so close.” He knows…he can feel how close you are as your heels dig into his back, your blunt nails scratch at his scalp and you arch your body as your climax washes over you. “Come inside me please, Santi.”
Images flash in his mind of Frankie fucking you through your orgasm as you scream his name, his cock is pulsing and throbbing inside you as he fills you up. His deep ragged breaths in your ear as the aftershocks jolt through him. “I love you.” He says it over and over as he kisses your face, your mouth, your sweat soaked forehead. He’s really saying I’m sorry but those words mean the same right now.
“I love you too baby.” Your voice is wrecked from screaming, having long forgotten about your houseguest. You know this is what he wanted and a small part of you wanted it to. Santiago is yours to keep.
****
Shame washes over Frankie as he cleans his spend off his stomach with his tee shirt. He pulls his boxers up and sits on the edge of the bed staring out into the backyard.
It’s quiet now, in his post orgasmic clarity. All he has are the thoughts running through his mind. The thoughts that have plagued him since he set foot back into this house. How selfish it is to want what’s down the hall in a place he called home.
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Dan is (Insert Character)
So, I've recently fallen in love with the idea of Dan being reformed and being a part of various characters Backstories, like This post about Dan being a Farmer Friend of the Kent's
So here are a few more examples of that!
Dan is Thomas Wayne: Dan is reformed and moves to Gotham to start a new life, while there he meets and befriends the elderly Wayne Couple, who never managed to have kids. Eventually the Wayne end up adopting Dan (who changed his name to Thomas), and he becomes Thomas Wayne. He even has a Kid. Unfortunately as a Parole Requirement, he had to lock away his powers, meaning he couldn't save himself or his Wife the day they got murdered in a Mugging. He became a Full Ghost, and in his rage at the death of his wife he relapsed into his old Violent self. Danny, while he understood the feeling, unfortunately did have to arrest him for his rage filled rampage. His Sentence is finally up, and he wants to see how his Son is doing.
Dan is Billy Batsons Dad: A little known fact about Billy Batson is that whenever he transforms into Shazam, he unconsciously makes himself look more like his Father than a future version of himself. So imagine his shock when, in the middle of a fight, one of his enemies takea a closer look at him and suddenly yells out, "Is that DAN!?". Billy now wants to know how these Extra Dimensional Monsters know his Dad's name. And why they seem Terrified of him...
Dan is Alfred's Dad: Alfred is taking one of his famously rare Vacations, and the rest of the Batfam decides to ask where he is going. "Oh, I'm going to visit my Father" "Wait what? Aren't you like 100 years old?! How is your dad still alive?!" "Did you not know? Alfred is a Demigod" "WHAT?!"
Dan is Jonathan Kent: Dan settles down somewhere in Smallville, Kansas. Unfortunately, as a Halfa he isn't physically capable of having kids, but as luck would have it a space pod carrying a small baby crashes into their fields one night. When that baby starts developing powers, Dan is experience enough to help him control them though. Just imagine one day, a Villain discovers Superman's Civilain Identity and tries to attack his Dad, only for his dad to be stronger than him.
Dan is Ra's Al Ghul's Dad: Dan was reformed and decided to get sent back in time to live his life, so he wouldn't interrupted the present Timeline. While there he met a lady and had a Kid. Unfortunately, he was forced to return to the Zone to wait for the Future to happen when his son was barely into adulthood, but he did decide to give him a Birthday Gift. The Lazarus Pits. Once in the Zone, he had to wait for a few centuries to pass before he was allowed to return, but once he was allowed back to the Living Realm he immediately began to search for his Son. The Pits should have kept him alive this long, so hopefully he lived a nice long life. Wait, who are these Cult Guys around his Lazarus Pits? And, where is his son? And why does that lady feel so familiar? Who is that little Demon Brat?
Dan is General Sam Lane: Simple really, Dan is Lois Lanes dad, and she is technically a Quarter Ghost but she had never awakened her powers. If you want to use the Injustice Timeline, then Lois gets resurrected after a few days and finally awakens her Halfa Powers. She is there to stop Superman from fully turning to the Dark Side, and asks her Dad to help Clark keep his emotions in check.
What do you think?
#Dp x dc#Dpxdc#Dc x dp#Dcxdp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#Dan Phantom is Thomas Wayne#Dan Phantom is Billy Batsons Dad#Dan Phantom is Alfred's Dad#Dan Phantom is Jonathan Kent#Dan Phantom is Ra's Al Ghul's Dad#Dan Phantom is General Sam Lane#Suggestions for more characters Dan could Be/be connected to?
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How about the trickster, Wraith, Doctor, and Pyramid Head when they s/o is injured because of someone else thank youuuu
Heyooooo!! I greatly apologize for how long this took. Life has been crazy for me lately. Anyways, I hope you like this!!
Authors note: honestly was thinking about the scene from TWD where Glenn dies when I was writing the Trickster's part cause I saw it recently and I got sad lol
Warnings: mentions of blood but nothing graphic/ explicitly written
Trickster:
Ji-Woon may be a sadistic man, but he firmly stands by “no one can hurt them but me,” motto. So when you guys are in a trial together, he is living la vida loca. He loves the chase and he always leaves you for last and until you’re the last person, he tends to tease you with either a harsh smack to your ass or a small knick to your exposed skin with a throwing knife, it just depends on how he’s feeling at the moment.
Today, he’s feeling a little flirty and has been giving you the usual butt smack, but also the occasional grope. The shock on your face afterwards is absolutely priceless and now he’s thinking of making this a normal greeting to you in the trials you share. It definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by the other survivors in the trial. Especially since they all hate being in trials with you two. You usually get special treatment and the flirting can be an eye sore after a while. You get it, you really do, but some of them are taking it out on you and you don’t particularly think it's fair considering how often you help them in all the trials. Ji-Woon was chasing after Ashley when he noticed you ahead of them. Ashley also noticed you in the distance and immediately sped up to where you were. Neither Ji-Woon or you expected what had happened next. Ashley grabbed you and roughly turned you both around and threw you into Ji-Woon who was already swinging his bat and ended up with you getting knocked out. While Ji-Woon was worried about you being unconscious, he put you up against a locker and ran after Ashley. It took no time to get the guy and stab him just enough to keep him alive. Ji-Woon dragged him by his hair over to where he left you.
You groaned as you woke up, feeling blood dripping down your face and a raging headache. You were trying to clear the black spots from your vision when you heard a voice singing nearby as it slowly got closer. Your vision finally starts getting clearer when you see the flashy yellow leather jacket come into view. “Ahh, my sweet angel, you woke up just in time for the show,” Ji-Woon smirked down at you. He set his bat up against the locker next to you as he dropped Ashley next to you and kneeled down next to you. “T-The show?” you asked. Ji-Woon looked down at you with a small frown, noticing the clear pain you’re in. It’s different when it's intentional, but this time it wasn't and he was going to take out the anger on Ashley while you watch. “Jagi… this is for you darling,” Ji-Woon said before giving a cheeky wink and started to beat Ashley.
By the time Ji-Woon finished, you were feeling sick from watching. The screams gave you a headache and there was blood falling from your face that wasn’t yours. You knew it wasn’t going to be too fun to deal with Ashley once you got back to the survivors camp, but it's also known that they shouldn’t try to do silly tricks with Ji-Woon as the recipient. Lots of you tried to see what the limits were with the killers and Ji-Woon was not one to mess with. Especially when it comes to you. You were off limits and everyone knew that. Or so you thought. You were still lost in thought staring at the bloody heap that once looked human when you felt yourself being picked up bridal style and you looked into the eyes of your feral man. “Did you enjoy yourself baby? Did you hear those screams? They were great, but not as pleasing to the ears as yours,” he sighed as he walked to a more secluded area. “Uh, it was quite the show Ji,” you quietly said as he sat you down on a short wall where you were eye level with him.
He looked deeply into your eyes as he put his hands on the sides of your head and gently moved it to where he can see the damage to your head. He smacked his teeth in annoyance at the clear gash on the top of your scalp. He kissed your forehead as he went to grab a med pack he saw on the way over. Once he’s back, he quickly makes work on wrapping your head and giving small apologies when you hissed at the pain. “Ta-dah! You are healed!” he said doing jazz hands with a flashy smile on his face. You let out a snort at that. “Yeah with a swing like yours, I’m lucky to still have my head.” His smile didn’t fall as his left eye twitched at your comment. He, however, softened his smile as he rested his hands on your thighs. “You know I would never hurt you that bad. I know I can be a dick, but I do love you, jagiya,” he said as he leaned in to brush a surprisingly soft, sweet kiss to your lips. He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against yours. You let out a small giggle before blurting out, “if only you were nice like this all the time.” Ji-Woon immediately pulled back, looked you dead in the eyes, and turned around to walk away, “good luck getting to see that side again!” “W-Wait! What? You can tease, but I can’t? Hey! I said wait!!” you hopped off the wall and ran up to him and jumped onto his back and wrapped your limbs around him causing you both to laugh as he just continued walking with you attached to him.
Wraith:
Philip could sense you the moment you stepped foot into his realm. You could say he has “Y/N senses”. Knowing you’re here, he transported to where you were at the edge of his realm. He was excited as the past few days, he hasn’t been able to see you because of the trials making it impossible to have time together. Either he was in a trial when you weren’t or you were in a trial when he wasn’t. He just missed you and couldn’t wait to gather you in his arms. However, when he transported to you, he was not expecting to see you in clear discomfort. He knows every now and then that the survivors can be hurt for a little while after a trial before they get properly healed, but he’s never seen you in this much pain before.
You look up at Philip with a wobbly smile and tears in your eyes. You limped towards him when a sharp pain shot up your leg making you gasp. Philip’s arm shot straight out to grab you as you nearly fell forward. Philip pulled you into him and you sighed feeling his warmth surrounding you and wrapped your arms around his torso. He grunted at you to get you to look up at him. You can see how worried he is through his expression. “Oh Philip. It was such a tiring trial and I missed you so much.” He missed you so much and he knew that he wanted to just take care of you until you’re healed and spend his time spoiling you with his affection. He leaned down to you and rubbed his nose against yours sweetly before picking you up and transporting into the wreck yard building with the sound of his bell.
Once inside, he put you down onto the makeshift bed you guys had put together a while ago. He leaned down to look at your blood-soaked wrapped up ankle. He carefully reached down and knew who the culprit was immediately. The bite marks of a bear trap are obvious and deep. He let out a small sigh as he grabbed some rags that were lying around to replace the tattered and soaked through gauze. He knew there wasn’t much for him to do to help and you knew that as well. It was just a waiting game at this point. “I’m sure you could’ve guessed it was a trial with Evan,” you were brought to this ‘world’ with your old childhood friend, the one that everyone knows as The Trapper. “Evan wrapped me up after the trial when I started heading here,” you pause, “he’s still looking out for me after all these years.. I hate that he still sees me as that clumsy little kid he met so long ago.” You let out a small laugh thinking about all the times he had taken care of your scraped knees and twisted ankles. Philip and Evan had a small, non-verbal agreement to always have an eye out for you. They both understand your importance to each other and Philip is happy that you have someone else that takes care of you out of genuine love for you.
You can already feel your ankle heal as the pain is finally subsiding and you can tell the wounds are closing up. You let out a groan of relief because now you can move it freely without wincing in pain. Philip was pleased knowing that you were feeling better and laid down in front of you on the bed and wrapped himself around you. His arms brought you closer to him as he breathed in your scent. You moved your head back a bit so that Philip could look you in the eyes. He loved the softness of your eyes when you were relaxed and in his arms. The past few days of not seeing each other made you both crave each other’s presence to the max and now that you are both in the present and wrapped in each other’s arms, you both couldn’t be happier. You both rubbed your noses together and then rested your foreheads together as you both breath in the moment.
Doctor:
Herman is definitely the best one to take care of an injured significant other. I know he specializes in psychology, but I feel like he knows basic first aid and has the facility to take care of these things. Especially considering his dear significant other is a survivor, they tend to get hurt quite often. However, he knows he can’t control what the other killers do when it comes to their trials, but he knows he can scare the other survivors to keep their hands to themselves.
When you finally got out of the trial you were in, he didn’t expect you to look so shell-shocked as you walked up to his desk. Herman stood up and slowly walked up to you and put his hands on your arms. “Are you ok my love?” he asked, trying to meet your far off gaze. You couldn’t even respond as you just shook at the thoughts of dealing with that damned creepy clown. He got you just as you were about to run out the gate. Being mori’d by that bastard makes you sick. Taking your pinky makes you want to throw up knowing he’s possibly sucking on it again. Herman’s eyes ran over your body in worry trying to see if there was anything physically wrong and noticed your wrapped up hand. He gently grabbed it and unwrapped the gauze. As he was finishing unwrapping he saw that your pinky was gone and put all the pieces together. He knew of your fear of the clown. For some reason, you’ve been able to avoid trials with him since you and Herman have been together, so it's the first time he’s seen you like this.
With a small sigh Herman brought you over to his desk and touched his nose against your cheek before going to grab some pain numbing ointment that he remembered having and some fresh gauze. Herman grabbed your chin and lifted your head up so he could look you in the eyes as he said, “I’m sorry that you had to deal with that creature of a clown.” You teared up a little thinking about the genuine fear you have when dealing with that guy. Herman rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks and placed his forehead against yours before he pulled away to take care of your hand.
After finishing the rewrap and putting his supplies away he sat down at the chair of his desk in front of you and patted his lap. You got off the top of the desk and eased your way across his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He moved one hand to rest on your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it in small circles. “Thank you Herman,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head on his shoulder. “Anything for you darling.”
Pyramid Head:
Pyramid Head is definitely one of the killers here that no one messed. Killers and survivors alike. However, you’re an exception. You’re his lover and everyone is cautious of that. All but a few killers know not to cross a line when it comes to you since they don’t want to deal with the wrath of Pyramid Head.
Today was a slow day for you and you thought maybe you would be lucky and not have a trial for a whole day. Unfortunately, as soon as you finished that thought, the fog consumed you and brought you to Haddonfield map. Probably one of the least scary maps in your opinion. Not yet knowing who the killer was always made you a little nervous, so you started working out your nerves by working on the generators. Sadly, you’re still on edge so you get startled by Vittorio coming up behind you, thus messing up the wiring and the generator combusting. “Vitto! You scared me,” you said, almost embarrassed. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said genuinely. You both quickly started repairing it as you guys heard a scream far in the distance so you know the killer isn’t too close yet.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that no one went to help the person that got hooked so you left Vitto to finish up this generator as you made your way towards the person you can hear still struggling. Thank goodness you found the med pack on the way there and it looks like you made it just in time to save Steve. You got him off the hook and started making quick work on healing him, “hey kiddo, sorry I didn’t get here that fast-” “It’s ok, you got me. That’s all that matters,” he said. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger ones here as it must be so hard being in a place like this, plus they were pretty nice kids so you took on the older sibling role for them.
Finally finishing with healing Steve, you guys got up and you were about to guide him to a generator to work on when you felt your heart rate increase. You both made eye contact and ran off in a random direction together just trying to escape the vicinity. You could hear and feel the heavy footsteps of the killer and immediately knew it was your monster man. That doesn’t change the fact that he would still do his job and hook you. Steve was just ahead of you when you pointed out the palette making him go in that direction with you still right behind him and Pyramid Head trudging behind you. However, you don’t think Steve knew that you were in close proximity because he dropped the palette on top of you. You groaned in pain and Pyra did not have the best reaction to you getting hurt by someone else. He nearly roared in rage when he broke the palette that was on top of you. Steve didn’t even get the chance to apologize before you told him to run.
Pyra leaned down to lift you up enough to sit you against the wall. You had blood dripping down from a small cut on your forehead. Pyramid Head was about to go after Steve when you grabbed his free arm and started rambling out, “wait! H-He didn’t mean to hurt me, big guy. It was an accident, he would never do that on purpose.” Pyra could hear the honesty in your tone and he rested his hand against your cheek and brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s ok bub. Give me a minute and you can hook me, ok?” He let out a little groan as his tongue poked out the open corner of the pyramid and caressed your other cheek. You both knew the deal when in a trial together and he always hooked you just to get you out of the trial faster. Not many survivors make it out when he’s the killer and he doesn’t want you to go through the stress of these trials. Although, for now, he’s going to bask in this small moment with you.
Anyways lmk what y’all think!! Requests are closed! You can put in a request but anything after 3/15 is going to take a little while
#dbd x reader#pyramid head x reader#wraith x reader#Philip ojomo x reader#Herman Carter x reader#trickster x reader#jiwoon hak x reader
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an ego thing ~ modern!Aemond x Reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
summary: Tensions rise in class when you're paired up for a group assignment.
warnings: 18+ (exhibitionist, p in v, fingering, daddy kink, slight degrading, choking, some brat taming), language, jealousy, possessiveness
word count: 2.1k
note: our academic Daddy & academic baddie are back! Alexa, play "Jealous Girl" by Lana Del Ray, enjoy my loves!
“I’m pairing you up for this assignment,” your professor says, “count off by fives.”
You roll your eyes. If there’s anything you hate the most in college, it's group work. Sometimes it's okay, if you can choose who you’re working with or if it's a class you have with Baela. Otherwise, it’s a massive pain.
You count off reluctantly and know you won’t be paired with Aemond since he’s planted in his usual seat beside you.
It’s your 8 am history lecture and he still looks amazing. With his usual coffee cup, dark grey sweats, and a black t-shirt. That long hair hanging freely down his back, eyes sparkling and alive with academic anticipation.
Daddy.
FUCK. You’ve got to stop this. It’s getting embarrassing how down-bad you are for him. Chill out.
“Alright, pair up, find your numbers,” your professor says and you groan.
You hold up two fingers, waiting for whoever joins you. You meet Aemond’s eyes giving him a tentative smile. He smirks slightly holding up one finger.
“Guess you’re my partner,” the voice of Harper Tully startles you, and you look at her.
“Oh, okay sounds-”
“Oh sorry Y/N,” she says smiling awkwardly, “I meant Aemond.”
Your mouth drops in embarrassment, cheeks flushing.
“Right, sorry, my bad,” you tell her.
She smiles, taking the seat next to Aemond.
“No worries,” she says, beginning to take out her laptop.
You can’t help but notice the blush that covers her cheeks, nearly matching the deep auburn color of her hair. An uncomfortable knot forms in your stomach.
“Guess I’m stuck with you,” a voice says, sighing dramatically.
You turn to see Luke Velaryon standing near your desk, a lopsided grin on his face and his hair shaggy as though he had just run his hand through it.
“Hey Luke,” you return his smile as he claims the desk next to you.
Your professor has outlined the assignment clearly, it doesn’t seem too difficult, and certainly nothing you cannot manage. But Luke Velaryon seems more interested in talking about anything but history. Not that you can blame him. You find yourself staring across the room at Aemond and Harper.
She’s pretty, like, really pretty as she twirls that auburn hair around her finger, biting her lip as Aemond speaks. Who even bites their lip like that in real life? What is this a porno? What is she doing? And what is he doing?
Aemond is focused on his work, like the top student he is, not sparing a glance your way. At least not that you notice. You and Aemond are exclusive, this is something you’ve discussed, but besides your recent date, you haven’t shown the two of you are together outside the privacy of your dorm rooms.
Unbeknownst to you, Aemond is unnervingly aware of the proximity you have to Luke Velaryon, the giggle he elicits from you when he says something stupid. Fucking stupid ass Luke Velaryon is definitely not that funny. Aemond grinds his teeth together as another giggle escapes you.
The minutes drag by and you find yourself staring at the clock as you and Luke finish early. Luke’s a nice enough guy, he’s pretty sweet telling you stories about his dog Arrax he loves so much. At least it takes your attention away from Harper Tully touching Aemond’s arm, grazing her foot against his calf.
“Alright, any groups want to share what you talked about?” your professor asks.
Aemond’s hand moves upwards, beating you by just a second. Your professor nods at him. You barely hear him speak, crossing your arms.
“Well said, Aemond,” your professor tells him, “Anyone else?”
You can feel Aemond’s eyes on you, but you refuse to look. Clamping your mouth shut, you grind your teeth. Your professor glances at you, as though expecting you to answer. Not today.
You’re fuming by the time your professor tells you to turn in your papers and ends class for the day. You leap from your seat and slam the paper down at the same time Aemond turns in yours.
With a huff, you avoid his gaze, immediately leaving the classroom. Other students follow and you power walk trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. You’re irrationally angry, watching Harper flirt with him has sent your stomach turning, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You’re halfway down the hall, already having rounded the corner when a hand grabs your arm.
“You running away from me?” Aemond asks, tugging you against the wall and out of the sea of students who are switching classes.
You yank your arm away from his, crossing them over your chest.
“I hardly thought you’d notice, what with Harper’s hands practically down your pants,” you snap before you can stop yourself.
Aemond’s eyes widen, and his mouth is set in a hard line. Your mouth turns into a pout when he doesn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought,” you tell him, as Luke Velaryon rounds the corner.
His eyes flicker between you before he smirks.
“You forgot your backpack,” he tells you pointing behind him.
You left so fast you’d forgotten it.
“I would have grabbed it but…actually, I don’t know why I should have just grabbed it,” Luke tells you frowning.
“It’s fine,” you tell him, pushing by Aemond and heading back into the class.
You open the door to the empty classroom, the professor already gone. You stalk over angrily to your bag, shoving the contents inside. You hear the door open and watch Aemond enter, leaning against it. You scoff, turning away from him.
“Bet if you hurry you can still catch her,” you call, zipping your bag.
“Who?”
“Harper.”
You sling the bag on your shoulder and walk towards him. He blocks the door perfectly, fitting in the entire doorway. You’re so pissed you simply glare at him.
“Move,” you tell him.
“No,” he snarls.
“Aemond, get out of my way,” you growl at him.
“Gods when did you become such a brat?” he snaps, glaring at you.
Your mouth drops open in shock.
“Excuse me?�� you harshly whisper, cheeks red, mortified by the name-calling.
Aemonds’s eyes graze you, looking you up and down. He reaches behind him, flicking the lock on the classroom door, before bringing his hand to the back of your neck, dragging you closer. Your bag falls to the ground as you’re pressed flush against him.
“When did you become such a brat?” he repeats before crashing his lips against yours.
The kiss is punishing, as he thrusts his tongue into your mouth, swallowing a moan he elicits from you as his hand grips your hair, yanking it hard. His other hand grabs your waist, turning you and pressing you against the door. Aemond lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he pushes you into the door.
“Like you weren’t flirting with Velaryon,” he groans, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, moving his lips to your neck, “Right in front of me.”
Aemond sucks harshly on the skin of your next, eliciting a whimper as you tangle your hands in his hair.
“I thought you were smart,” he says against your neck, moving to nip at your collarbone, “not a very smart decision baby.”
You growl, frustrated with him, and yank at his hair harshly.
“You were fucking flirting with Harper,” you accuse.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says harshly, wrapping a hand around your throat, “I wasn’t flirting with Harper Tully.”
“You were,” you insist as he grinds his hips into yours.
He lets you go, and you stand on shaking legs. Aemond’s hand remains wrapped around your throat as he pushes his hand into your leggings, underneath your panties. He sneers at you, sliding a finger through your wet folds.
“Luke Velaryon get you this wet?” he taunts, sinking a finger inside of you.
“Fuck.”
“Answer me.”
“Fuck you Aemond.”
His hand moves to hold your chin, angling it so you’re looking at him.
“That’s no way to speak to the guy you were calling Daddy the other night,” he growls, relentlessly with his fingers.
You can hear the sound of your wetness squelching against his fingers, biting your lip as his palm grazes your clit. You flush with embarrassment, but hold your tongue as you come closer to your orgasm. A whimper slips through your lips and Aemond kisses you harshly.
“Ah ah ah,” he says, pulling away from your mouth, and your pussy, “you don’t get to cum that easily. No fucking way.”
You whine at the loss of contact as Aemond fully releases you. He kisses you again, hands on your waist moving toward the desk at the front of the classroom. Spinning you around, he pushes you against the desk, effectively bending you in half.
“Aemond-”
“You’re going to take it,” he says gruffly, pulling down your leggings, “right here, right now. I don’t care if the whole fucking school hears you.”
He kisses your asscheek as he makes his way back up, a sweet gesture compared to his sudden roughness. You hear his belt unbuckle as a chill of anticipation rolls through you.
“We can’t do this here,” you whisper, though it is half-hearted at best.
You can’t help but feel thrilled by his need to take you now. Take you here of all places. You can feel the tip of his cock spreading through your folds as he runs his head through them. You whimper as he smacks his cock against your clit.
“Too bad,” he says, his tone mocking, “should have thought about that before mouthing off to me.”
You’re ready to mouth off again but the words get trapped in your throat as he slides his cock inside you. The stretch is incredible, the angle allowing you to take him deeply, just like the first night in the library. A garbled moan leaves your lips as he begins to pound into you. One hand on your hip to aid his merciless thrusts, the other holding your neck, pressing your torso against the desk.
Your legs tremble with the force of his thrusts, every stroke sending waves of pleasure through your frame.
“Where’s that mouth, huh?” Aemond asks, slapping your ass with his hand.
“Aemond,” you mean, “Aemond please.”
“Poor baby,” Aemond croons, not stopping his thrusts for a moment, “getting all worked up over nothing.” Another slap to your ass, leaving your cheeks stinging.
You whimper as he continues, amazed at his ability to reduce you to a whimpering mess. His hand snakes around your chest then, pulling you up so he can kiss your neck.
“Fuck-”
“You’re all mine,” Aemond growls, biting harshly on your ear, “tell me, who really made you this wet?”
“You did,” you gasp, “You Aemond.”
“Soaking my cock in our fucking classroom, dirty girl,” Aemond purrs, “you want to come?”
“Please, please let me come,” you beg, abdomen tight, on the precipice of pleasure.
“Who makes you feel this good?” he asks.
“You,” you whimper, “you Aemond.”
“What’s my name?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
Your cheeks flush, and you feel his hand reach down to play with your clit.
“C’mon say it,” Aemond taunts, “or continue to be a brat, and see what that gets you.”
He pinches your clit as he finishes his sentence and you cry out, lost in the sensations of pleasure and pain.
“Please let me come Daddy!” you whimper.
“Good fucking girl,” Aemond moans, fingers circling your clit.
It takes only a few moments before you’re trembling against him, orgasm washing over you. Aemond unsheathes himself from your warm cunt and you turn instinctively, dropping to your knees. You take him in your mouth in one fluid motion, bobbing your head and swirling your tongue, tasting yourself on his thick cock. He holds your face and you let him fuck your throat, gagging as he finishes.
Aemond helps you to your feet, and you look at each other, disheveled and wide-eyed. You grab your leggings putting them on quickly as Aemond pulls up his pants. You glance at the door.
“I don’t want to go out there,” you tell him and he chuckles.
“Let me check,” he says heading to the door.
He flips the lock as you remain frozen, opening the door and peering out. Aemond turns, smiling.
“Must be no next class,” he tells you.
You sigh in relief.
“Thank goodness,” you tell him, grabbing your bag.
Aemond smirks at you.
“All better?” he asks.
You frown.
“Shut up,” you tell him.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Do we need to continue?” he asks, “I thought you were a quick learner, but if you need another lesson…”
“I do not!” you tell him, flushing, “and I have another class.”
“Let me walk you?” he asks.
You bite your lip looking at him. Aemond Targaryen. He fucking did it again. He smirks like he’s reading your mind, and holds out his hand. You take his hand in yours lacing your fingers through his and walk out of the classroom together.
NOTE: Happy Monday! Hope you enjoyed! 💖
AET taglist: @ephemeralninon, @aemonds-wifey, @haydee5010, @schniiipsel, @sweetsweetpsyche, @letmeloveyouuuu, @glitterandgoldfinds, @greenowlfactif, @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @let-love-bleeds-red @praline357, @castellomargot, @f4ll-for-you, @fairysluna, @namelesslosers, @pax-2735, @yentroucnagol, @rwdkarla, @itsabby15, @sweetsweetpsyche, @stickycrusadecollective, @sweetniasblog,
#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#modern!aemond#modern!hotd#aemond targaryen x fem!reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x female reader#modern!aemond x reader#modern!aemond targaryen#aemond/reader#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen/reader#aemond fic#aemond targaryen fic
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Fight and Forgive.
characters: Spencer Reid, Reader/You
relationship: Spencer Reid/Reader (romantic or/and platonic)
description: Reader is laying alone in bed, tired after fighting with Spencer, soon enough he comes into the room and is their comforter.
other tags: no use of Y/N, gn!reader, established relationship (not specified if it was romantic or platonic.) Anxiety, Anxious and Overthinking Reader
read on ao3!
It was dark and late, it was summer so it took a moment for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine, you could see stars through the window, it was a beautiful night, which you were spending all alone.
Spencer as usual wasn’t back till’ late hours, it was eating you up alive. You couldn’t bear it anymore, you loved him, truly, but all this separation, his recent visit in the hospital…
He called it “risks that come with the job”.
You called it “bullshit”.
Both of you said a lot, that happened each time you held back, silently suffering, feeling as if your feelings, your pain was just not worth it, it’s not like anything could and would change.
You were covered with a fluffy blanket, you had nowhere else to go, really. Spencer didn’t say much, just stayed in the living room, two hours have passed, yet the light still shined through the crack under the door, so he obviously was awake. You simply returned to the bedroom, where you could freely sob, still you tried to be silent, the pillow was wet from the tears however it would dry by the morning, so nothing would look suspicious.
Spencer kept risking his life and the stress of losing him was not something you wanted to go through. You loved him, he loved you, but he also loved his job, his coworkers, sometimes it felt like he loved them more then you. No matter what he said or would do — it couldn’t bring back the time you lost with him, because of the BAU or the sleepless nights when you’re anxiety was horrible, not allowing you to sleep, because he hasn’t returned yet. It was his job, but it had a firm grip on both his and your mental state.
Soon enough you had no tears left to cry, so you laid on the empty, king-sized bed, just spiralling with no intention to stop. Not only you needed to figure out what to tell Spence, you also punished yourself that way, the overthinking mainly resulted in painful headaches, but you just couldn’t stop, I mean this whole fight was your fault anyways…
That’s when your head turned towards the door when you heard it click, he was standing there, his hair messy, letting in the light from the living room, which made you squint your eyes. He moved into the room, switching the lights of the living room off and shutting the door behind himself.
“Hey…” His voice was raspy, he stood over the bed just looking at you, you glanced at him, but chose to focus somewhere else.
You cried and fought, still you could feel the rage and sadness inside of your chest, bubbling up.
“What do you want?” You were straight forward, with no intention to start a conversation, you didn’t want to fight anymore, you couldn’t handle it, you were simply exhausted.
“I- Can we talk…Please?” He hesitated, he knew you too well, well enough to ask, knowing you don’t have the heart to turn him down.
“Spence…Can we do this tomorrow?” You furrowed your brows as he sat on the bed and sighed, that’s when it hit you, he was not going to be here tomorrow. “Oh…” The sound left your mouth as it hit you, like a slap across your face.
“I’m sorry…But it’s…The BAU—“ He didn’t got a chance to finish, you didn’t let him.
“No more of that…” The whine left your mouth as your palms rubbed your face in a poor attempt to stop yourself from bursting out crying. “I’m sick of listening to that, Spencer.” Your voice was stern, you felt so fragile, like anything he says might break you.
He simply nodded as the two of you sat in silence for a moment. You looked at him more carefully now and without a doubt he was doing the same, but only one of you was a profiler.
His eyes were slightly red, his lips chapped and under his eyes you could see eye bags, he obviously wasn’t asleep in awhile.
“Lay down.” You spoke more softly, moving slightly to make him more space. “You need to sleep, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Sleep.” Spencer simply repeated the word and laid down awkwardly next to you. You could blame him, one moment you’re throwing a tantrum and the other you two are back in bed.
He glanced at you, the silence was loud, the only noise came from the streets and the cars passing every now and then. It was your fault, so you initiated contact, your body moved towards him, closing the distance between you two. Soon enough his hands traveled to your waist and your head to the crook of his neck. Both of you said nothing, just kept calm and enjoyed each other’s warmth.
“You know I love you…I do…” He whispered softly, his breath send a shiver down your spine. “I love coming home and seeing your face and I love spending the holidays with you and every other free moment I have…” He continued as his hand slowly rubbed your back.
“I know…I—“ You whispered back gently, holding back tears.
“It’s okay…I understand.” He whispered back and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, before the two of you drifted to sleep.
#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid hurt/comfort#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds
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Knight of Olympus: Titans Lullaby - Ch.1: Like a Shooting Star
Summary: Jaune Arc fell, however, instead of landing on the beach of the Ever-After, he lands on the beach of Camp Halfblood. It seems like Jaune's life, is truly a Greek tragedy.
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Percy Jackson has had a very long summer, what with the Sea of Monsters as well as the fact that Thalia was back and alive.
Annabeth was happy and Grover was too, and Percy couldn't be more happy fir both of them, as he was sure it was a relief to have her back, however, once she fully regained consciousness, they did have to inform her about the whole... Luke's situation, which he could tell, struck her hard.
Even worse, both he and Thalia would have to stay at Camp for the rest of the summer, or else Luke and the Demi-Gods with him, plus the other monsters, would target them.
But enough about the bad news, some good news was that Tyson had gone down to his dad's domain to work for him there, which Percy was happy to hear, he hoped that he would have a good time, but Percy still felt a little saddened by his departure, but he was sure he'd see Tyson again.
Next to that, everything was working out, and while they still had Luke and Cronus to worry about, Percy was taking a break after a long adventure, now sitting on the beach and looking up at the stars.
"There you are, Percy,"
Percy's head turned around, only to see Annabeth standing behind him. He smiled at her before responding, "Hey, Annabeth" he greeted.
Annabeth walked over and sat down next to him, "What are you doing out here?" She asked.
Percy looked back up to the sky, "Just relaxing," He replied, "definitely need it after everything recently," He told her.
Annabeth nodded in agreement, "I feel you there," she replied with a long sigh
Percy looked at her with a raised brow, "Thalia, how's she doing?" He asked.
"So far, she's doing good, Grover and I had to fill her in on everything she's missed, but she's taking it all pretty well... for the most part," She replied.
"Luke?"
Annabeth nodded.
Percy let out a sigh, knowing a little how Thalia had felt. He had trusted Luke a long time ago, he was a mentor to Percy when he first came to Camp Half-Blood, but after everything he did with Thalia's tree and in the Sea of Monsters, Percy would not forgive him. Percy then quickly put those thoughts aside and looked back to the starry sky, and when he did, he noticed something that was not normal. It looked like a shooting star and appeared as if it was coming closer to them. Percy nudged Annabeth and pointed at the object flying toward them. Both quickly stood up, ready to run should it hit the beach, however, while the object was getting closer, it was not going to hit the beach but instead struck the sea.
"What was that!?" Annabeth asked.
"How am I supposed to know that!? Wouldn't you know!?" Percy asked.
Annabeth looked at him with a raised brow, "Why would I know!?" Annabeth asked.
"You the Daughter of Athena if I recall!" Percy replied.
Annabeth groaned, "Whatever! Look, just go check what it is!"
"Why me!?"
"You're the only one who can technically breathe underwater!"
"Fine!"
Percy ran into the water, but as always, he didn't get wet, as a bubble of air surrounded him and he moved toward where he was sure the object fell into the water. Annabeth watched as Percy was fully submerged under the ocean. Annabeth waited with anxiety, wondering what had fallen into the ocean and hoping she had not just sent Percy to his doom.
After a few minutes, Percy suddenly shot out of the water with someone's arm around the back of his neck, and Percy dragged whoever it was with him.
"Annabeth! Could you help me? Quick!" Percy cried.
Annabeth ran over to the person's other side, put their arm around her neck, and helped Percy drag him back to shore. Once on the beach, they set them down on the sand and turned them over, and that was when they both finally got a good look at the person.
He had short blonde hair that seemed to spike up, and he wore what appeared to be white armor with gold trim, and had navy blue jeans, brown boots, and a red sash wrapped around his waist under a belt.
"Who is he?" Annabeth asked.
Percy shook his head and shrugged, "Don't know, but help me get his armor off, we need to perform-"
The man began to gag and spit up water from his mouth and quickly turned around to spit out more of the water that no doubt filled his lungs and once he was finished, took long and deep breaths.
"Hey! Hey! Are you ok!?" Percy asked as he had his hand on the man's back.
The man didn't answer right away but he turned to Percy with a confused look, "W-Where am I!?" he asked. "Is this Vacuo? No... Vale?"
Percy shook his head, confused about what he was talking about, "No, you're in Long Island," Replied the boy.
The man still seemed confused, "Long Island?" He asked.
Annabeth nodded, "Yeah," she replied, "Do... Do you remember how you got here?" She asked him.
The man seemed to think hard about his answer, "I remember the bridge... I was running to the gate to get to Vacuo before... I fell..." He replied, suddenly it seemed as if he remembered something, "Oh Oum... Penny... I..." he said softly, his voice nearly breaking into a sob.
Annabeth quickly reassured him, "It's alright, everything's fine now," She told him. "Can you tell me your name? Do you remember that?" She asked.
The man slowly nodded, "Yeah... my name is Jaune... Jaune Arc," He replied.
The girl nodded, "Good, good, nice to meet you, Jaune," Annabeth greeted, "My name is Annabeth, and this is Percy," she told him, gesturing to the son of the sea.
Jaune nodded, "Nice to meet you both, but can you please tell me how I got... wherever it is I am now?" He asked, still looking utterly confused.
Percy looked at him, "We saw you fall from the sky and land in the water, you looked like a shooting star, man," Percy told him. "Speaking of that... What... Are you?"
Jaune was confused, "What do you mean?"
"Are you a half-blood?" Annabeth asked.
"A what?" Jaune asked, even more confused.
Both of them exchanged a look and then Annabeth looked back at Jaune, "I think you might wanna come with us back to our camp," She told Jaune, before turning to Percy, "Maybe Chiron or Mr. D will have some answers,"
Percy chuckled, "Chiron, yes, but Mr. D... I don't think he'll care too much," He replied.
Jaune was confused, but he did as the kids said, getting up and following them back to their camp. As they walked, Percy noticed Annabeth taking a few peeks at Jaune here and there, and he was confused as to why she was doing it, but if he had to guess, she was trying to figure out who or what he was, after all, a normal person, even a half-blood, doesn't just fall out of the sky.
Percy was also wondering why he looked almost like a knight, his armor looked way too new, so a time traveler was out of the question, and Percy noticed that Jaune was looking around as if trying to figure out where he was.
Percy decided to try and get as much information out of Jaune as he could, after all, he didn't want to bring in a potentially dangerous person into the camp. "So, you never answered Annabeth's question," Percy said, "Are you a Half-blood?"
Jaune looked at him with a raised brow, "I'd answer if I knew what a Half-Blood was," Jaune replied.
"Half human, half God," Percy told him, "Like me, I'm the son of Posiden, but my mom, was human,"
Jaune seemed to be shocked by this, "Your... Your dad was a god!?" Jaune asked.
Percy nodded, "Yeah, Posiden," Percy told him.
"I... Who?" Jaune asked.
Percy was baffled that Jaune didn't know who his dad was. "You know, Posiden, god of the sea and earthquakes?" Percy said.
Jaune still seemed rather confused, which just made Percy more confused as to how Jaune couldn't know who his dad was, who in their right mind didn't know who the Olympian gods were.
"We're here," Annabeth said.
Percy turned back and saw that they were finally back at the camp, and once they arrived back, they saw a bunch of campers, still up and just training or hanging out, Percy even saw the Stroll brothers planning something, Percy then turned to make sure Jaune was still following behind them, but he saw Jaune appearing to be in shock at what he was seeing.
"What is this place?" Jaune asked.
"Camp Half-Blood, home, and safe haven to all Half-bloods as well as a summer camp for the rest of us who still have family outside," Annabeth told him.
"Ok... gonna have to ask more about that later, but for now, I'll wait," Jaune replied.
After walking through the camp, without Clairesse or her cronies popping up, which Percy thanked the gods for, they arrived at the Big House where Annabeth rushed ahead to see who was inside, and when she entered, she saw Thalia and Chiron in a conversation.
Chiron looked at Annabeth with a raised brow, "Annabeth, what seems to be the matter?
Annabeth looked at the Centaur, "Chiron, we need your help because something strange happened when Percy and I were at the Beach" Annabeth told him.
Chiron looked a little worried, "What happened?" He asked.
"He happened," Came the voice of Percy
They all turned to the doorway where both Percy and Jaune stood, and Jaune simply stood there, eyes wide, no doubt shocked at the appearance of Chiron.
"Who is he?" Chiron asked, his tone laced with worry.
Percy looked at him, "We hoped you would know," He said. "He fell from the sky like a comet!"
Chiron walked over to Jaune and looked at him, examining him for a moment, "What is your name?" he asked.
Jaune was snapped out of his shock as he looked at Chiron, "Uh, Jaune Arc, sir," Jaune said.
"I see... why are you wearing armor?" Chiron asked.
"Well, for protection," Jaune replied.
Chiron sighed with a smile, "Yes, of course, but why are you wearing it? What are you protecting yourself from?" Chiron asked.
Jaune realized what he meant and quickly answered, "Oh, well, from Grimm," He replied
"Grim? Like the brothers Grim?" Annabeth asked with a raised brow.
"Uh... I don't know if I've ever heard them called that..." Jaune replied, referring to his own gods.
However, before more could be said, Mr. D entered the room, a diet coke in his hand and he appeared to be going for the fridge, only to suddenly stop and quickly turn to the group, where his eyes fell on Jaune.
Chiron looked at him, "Ah, Mr. D, we were just-"
However, Mr. held up his hand to silence him as he walked over to Jaune and looked the young man up and down before looking him in the eyes, "Name?" he asked.
"Jaune Arc, and who-?"
"Shush!" Mr. D told him.
Mr. D then proceeded to look him over and then looked at Chiron, "Where'd you find him?" He asked.
"Percy says he fell from the sky," Chiron said.
Mr. D then glanced at Percy and let out a sigh, "Another thing involving you, eh, Peter Johnson?"
Jaune turned to Percy with a raised brow, "I thought your name was Percy?"
"It is!" Percy said with an annoyed groan.
"Whatever," Mr. D said. "Well, he's no half-blood, he's human,"
Chiron looked at him with a raised brow, "But how is that possible?" he asked. "He shouldn't being seeing all of this, much less have passed the barrier if he were human,"
"Because he's not a regular human," Mr. D said. "You're not... from here are you?" Mr. D asked Jaune. "This world, am I right?"
Jaune took a moment to answer but he gave the god of wine a quick nod, "Yeah, wherever "here" is, I'm starting to think so..." Jaune replied.
Mr. D snapped his finger and pointed to the sky as he turned around, "Right!" he said. "Chiron send words to the gods that we've got some big news! Very big news! Gonna have to call an emergency meeting!" He said.
Chiron was confused, "What for?" He asked. "What do you know?"
Mr. D turned around and looked at the Centaur with a smirk, "Because this guest of ours... is not from this world," Mr. D said.
Everyone was confused as to what he was talking about, but Chiron did as Mr. D asked and sent word to the gods about what Mr. D had said and quickly, they all responded quickly and said that the Meeting would happen soon and to bring Jaune to Olympus right away.
Jaune had no idea what was going on, where he was, or who he was going to meet at this "Olympus" but there was one thing Jaune was sure about...
He wasn't on Remnant anymore, and he was sure things were just going to get more complicated... as if they weren't complicated enough.
Jaune's hand touched his side and noticed that Crocea Mors was not strapped to his side, it was gone, yet he could've sworn he had it strapped to his side Jaune looked at Percy, "Hey, Percy, did you see a sword and sheath when you saved me?" he asked.
Percy looked at him and shook his head, "No, why? You had one on you?" Percy asked him.
Jaune nodded, "Yeah," Jaune replied. "But I guess it's gone now," He said.
Percy noticed the sad expression on Jaune's face, "If you want, I can take a look in the area where you fell to see if I can find it, Jaune," Percy replied.
Jaune slowly shook his head, "No, it's alright," Jaune replied. "Let it be lost," Jaune replied.
Jaune didn't want to see that weapon again. But he would... sooner or later.
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Jaune, along with Mr. D and Chiron arrived at the Empire State Building, however, Jaune was given some campe attire before arriving, once they got out of the van, and began walking into the lobby, Jaune looked at Chiron, now sitting in his wheelchair.
"So... how is this going to go down?" Jaune asked him.
Chiron looked at him, "Honestly, I don't know, in all my life, such a thing as a man from another world and appearing in ours has never occurred," Chiron said. "But a word of advice, Jaune, be as respectful as you can, the gods are easily angered,"
"Well, not all of us,"
Jaune jumped as he turned to his right only to see a man. The man had a nice bronze tan, a sun tattoo on his left shoulder, and wore a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He had sandy blonde hair that seemed to glow brightly and wore a sleeveless light grey shirt, faded jean shorts, and a pair of sandals.
Chiron smiled when he saw the man, "Ah, Lord Apollo, a pleasure," he greeted.
Apollo looked at the Centaur with a smirk, "Sup Chiron, been a while, how are my kids doing?"
"All are well, and out of everyone, it seems Will has picked up your knack for healing, he's been reading a lot of books on the subject," Chiron said with a smile.
Apollo smirked, "Kids gonna do wonders that's for sure," Apollo said. He then turned to Jaune with a smirk, "And you must be the man from another world, eh? Nice to meet you, I'm Apollo, God of the Sun," He greeted.
Jaune smiled at him nervously, "A pleasure to meet you, Apollo," Jaune greeted back, "Jaune Arc, Huntsman," Jaune replied with a smile.
Apollo's brow raised, "Huntsmen? That a job title or something?" Apollo asked.
Mr. D suddenly appeared and nodded, "Yes, turns out where he's from, he hunts monsters called Grimm," Mr. D told Apollo.
"Sick!" Apollo said with a smile, "Also, good to see you D!" Apollo said, greeting his half-brother.
Mr. D rolled his eyes, "Yes, wish I could say the same," He replied, "Now then, I think the others are waiting, so let's not keep them waiting or else," Mr. D replied.
Chiron nodded, "Yes, you three should be off, I will wait down here with the Van," Chiron said. "Good luck, Jaune," Chiron told him.
Jaune looked back at him and gave him a quick nod, "Thank you, Chiron,"
With that, the two gods and Huntsmen went inside and made their way to the elevator, Apollo pressed a button and the four went up, and as they did, Jaune couldn't help but feel himself getting more and more nervous. After all, he was in another world and meeting said Gods of this world, who may or may not decide his fate.
Finally, the elevator stopped and when the doors opened, Jaune was in awe at the sight of the throne room, the chairs were massive and so too, were the gods, each dressed up in certain clothing, some looked ancient, others in more modern clothing.
"Seems that Apollo and Dionysus have arrived," Said Posiden.
"Good then," Zeus said, "Then let them take their seats and we can begin," He said.
Apollo and Mr. D grew larger and walked over to their thrones, sitting on them and facing Jaune, who looked up at them with both shock and awe but quickly snapped out of it as he realized the meeting was about to begin.
Zeus looked at the other gods, "We're gathered here today to discuss Jaune Arc, the man from another world, and to assess if he is friend or foe," Zeus said. "First, Jaune Arc, why have you come to our world? What are your intentions?" the king of the Gods asked.
Jaune looked at him and knew that he must be Zeus since he was the first to speak, "I'll be honest, I don't know how I came here, to your world, as for what my intentions are, I don't know that either," Jaune replied.
"You do not know how you arrived in our world?" Hera asked.
Jaune nodded, "Yes," He replied.
To his left, Posiden leaned over and seemed to try to get a closer look at Jaune, "Well, he is indeed human... but there's something different about him,"
"I see it too," Zeus said. "Tell us what that thing that surrounds your body," Zeus said.
Jaune was confused as to what Zeus had meant, but quickly realized what he may have been referring to, "Do you mean my Aura?" Jaune asked.
"Is that what you call it?" Athena asked. "Interesting... what does this Aura do?" She asked.
"It protects me from any physical damage for a while but gets weaker the more I'm hit, but thanks to my Semblance, it allows me to boost it back fully if it gets too low," Jaune replied.
Athena nodded, no doubt finding the power that the young knight possessed interesting, but still looked at Jaune as if analyzing every inch of him, trying to figure out if he was a threat or not, based on the information of his powers.
Hera looked at the young man, and asked another question, "Tell us about your world, Jaune Arc," she told him.
Jaune nodded, and he explained to the Olympians what Remnant was, the dangers of it, what his and his friend's jobs were, and the threat that he and his world faced. After telling them about his world, Jaune noticed that some of the gods were interested in where he came from, but a few, he couldn't get a read on.
However, instead of asking more questions about his world, Zeus decided to continue the questioning of the young knight. "Tell me, Jaune Arc, what do you remember before you arrived in our world?" Zeus asked.
Jaune gulped, feeling terrible talking about it, but he had to tell them, so he began to tell them about the plan he had made back in Atlas, the bridge, Cinder's surprise attack, RWBY's defeat, and then... Penny's death and his part in it. At that point, Jaune was visibly shaken and he felt the words caught in his throat. However, he took a few deep breaths and continued, telling them how he missed the gate and fell, and then how he was saved by Percy and Annabeth.
The gods were indeed intrigued by the blonde story and were each trying to take all the information in, and after a few minutes, Zeus sat forward and looked at his fellow gods.
"I believe it is time to decide on what to do with Jaune Arc," Zeus said.
Hearing that, Jaune felt his heart nearly stop, as his mind raced with a million thoughts on what they could decide. Would they see him as a threat and kill or imprison him? Would they force him to work for them? Would they try and help him find a way back home?
As Jaune's mind was racing with these thoughts, Apollo sat forward and looked at Zeus, "If I may, I'd like to not kill him or imprison him," Apollo said.
Artemis looked at her brother with a raised brow, "Any reason why, dear brother?" she asked.
Apollo looked back at her with a smile, "I don't see him as a threat, and he could be a great asset to the demigods at Camp Halfblood, " Apollo said. "Plus, I like him, and he hasn't wronged us in any way, so why do anything harmful, when he hasn't proved to be a threat?"
Artemis nodded, "I have to agree with you, brother," She said. "I'm with Apollo,"
"I'd have to agree with my nephew and niece, brother," Posiden said as he looked at Zeus, "We can have him teach the children at Camp, this way we can keep an eye on him, and assess if he's a threat or not, should he be a threat, we can easily punish him, but if he shows he is useful, then we shall trust him,"
Zeus seemed to contemplate what he had heard from the Sun god, before addressing the other 11. "I believe Apollo may have the right idea as well as Posiden," He said. "Jaune Arc will serve Camp Halfblood as the new combat instructor, where he will be monitored by Dionysus and Chiron, and also serve gods like the rest of the Demigods to test to see if he is friend or foe... All in favor?" Zeus asked.
Every god raised their hand in agreement.
Zeus gave a quick nod, "Good," He said, then looking down at the mortal man. "You are dismissed, Jaune Arc, you are to return to Camp Halfblood as soon as possible," Zeus ordered. "And remember, we are watching you,"
Jaune nodded and because he didn't know what else to do, he bowed quickly before looking at the gods. "Thank you, and uh... have a good day," Jaune told them before leaving.
The gods themselves also began to disperse and leave the meeting, and Mr. D walked with Jaune back to the elevator, and the god patted him on the back. "Welcome aboard kid, and good luck," Mr. D told him, "You're gonna need it," He said.
Jaune looked at him with a raised brow, but he had a feeling he was right.
As he left, a certain goddess watched him leave as a million thoughts ran through her head, she didn't like unknowns, and Jaune Arc was now the greatest unknown to her as well as the rest of her family, but she wasn't just going to stand by and watch, she would test him and in those tests, analyze him and figure out if he posed a threat to them all.
She wasn't the goddess of wisdom and battle plans for nothing, after all...
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How was that for a first chapter eh?
Also just to let you all know, another RWBY character will appear in the future, but it's gonna be someone you're not expecting~!
Also, this takes place the same day as Thalia wakes up at the end of Sea of Monsters.
But what do you think is going to happen now that Jaune is in the PJO universe? Who will Jaune team up with? Who will he face off against? Which gods will he piss off? Which gods will take an interest in him? And what will his role be at Camp Half-blood?
Guess you guys are just gonna have to wait and see!
#rwby#jaune arc#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#annabeth chase#thalia grace#chiron#dionysus#pjo hestia
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