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whytheylosttheirminds · 12 days

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @maibelitaaura @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @v0lturiaq

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netherfeildren · 11 months

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Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her.

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control.

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned.

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you.

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention.

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him.

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears.

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life.

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain.

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive.

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked.

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again.

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was.

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now.

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you.

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee.

You want him.

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs.

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you.

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine.

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance.

“Entirely,” you say finally.

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now.

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile.

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man.

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe.

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other.

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile.

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special.

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else.

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here.

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his.

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things.

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them.

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel.

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you.

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this.

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you.

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him.

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue.

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him.

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice.

He goes after them.

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves.

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got.

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been.

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip.

Interesting.

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men.

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy.

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other.

You cross the line into darkness.

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot.

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own.

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men.

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you.

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side.

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim.

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face.

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact.

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool.

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away.

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching.

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed.

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you.

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons brandished.

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him.

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself.

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast.

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat.

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him.

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties.

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine.

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image.

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you.

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time.

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life.

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not.

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length.

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking.

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity.

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all.

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near.

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later.

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his.

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated.

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again.

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper.

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other.

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time.

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature.

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark.

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything.

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#my writing #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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meownotgood · 1 year

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quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep.

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling.

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head.

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate.

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams.

So it's just you.

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping.

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse.

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of.

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside.

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you.

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay."

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight.

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this?

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help."

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn.

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears.

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later.

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed.

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it.

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down.

"Did I wake you up?"

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more.

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams."

"Nightmares, huh?"

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures.

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless."

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften.

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it."

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later."

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Dan Heng is losing his mind.

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please."

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart.

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing.

"You're still awake."

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond.

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation.

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it."

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already.

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs.

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know.

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Dan Heng, please fuck me.

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge.

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?"

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in.

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating.

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?"

You nod, "Mhmm."

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?"

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?"

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?"

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong.

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again."

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream.

When it comes to you, he's just too weak.

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh.

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again."

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder.

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again."

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets.

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up.

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about.

"I'm fine," You answer immediately.

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with.

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you.

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here."

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you.

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?"

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm.

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop.

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen.

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears.

"Dan-"

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name.

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that.

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last.

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way.

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't.

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe.

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse.

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly.

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word.

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart.

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?"

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop."

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago.

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red.

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care.

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for.

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything.

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin.

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-"

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice.

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…"

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside.

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out.

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed.

"Dan Heng."

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes.

"I don't want this to end."

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so.

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late."

It's early, more so.

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now.

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?"

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling.

"Are you asleep?"

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut

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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

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First: Time

A/N: Part of my “first”-series with dilf!joel!

Summary: You go to IKEA to buy a new bed, but after getting Joel to assemble your new piece of furniture. it somehow also ends up being the first time you have sex.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel hates IKEA, reader is overthinking, domestic fluff, Joel is lovely, pussy eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, cute sex!!! Fluff!!! Filth!!

Word count: 4.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/123842593#workskin

First: Time

Since the kiss on your front porch, Joel has taken every opportunity to press his lips against yours when nobody has been around to see. Making out is so easy, uncomplicated in the sense that it isn’t hard to find out what the other likes, but there’s always something stirring beneath the surface when you feel Joel’s cock start to harden against your stomach. It makes you pull away and come up with excuses, and Joel takes it politely when you reject him.

You aren’t inexperienced, but for some reason, Joel Miller, certified hot neighbor, and possible boyfriend, makes you nervous.

Even more so when he suggests joining you on an outing to buy you a new bed like he has a say in which one you’ll choose. Your old one barely made it across the country in the moving truck, the old bed frame creaking so loudly that you were scared that it would splinter and land you in a claim of compensation with the moving company.

Additionally, it’s simply terrible to sleep in, and when it had finally broken its last proper spring, you’d settled for a month on something that resembled a military cot. Not ideal for you back. Not ideal for inviting Joel Miller over.

“Sarah ain’t home anyway,” he had said, “And with how that stepladder turned out… You probably need someone to assemble it, so ya don’t end up on the floor, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart. What easier way was there to get you to say yes?

And so you find yourself in an IKEA not long after. Joel wants to play the gentlemen, pushing your cart around the furniture store, but he seems tired of it when you keep adding unnecessary bibs and bobs as you are forced to walk down the fixed path design. You ignore his tiny grunts, knowing that he would be more suited for powering through the halls than stopping every goddamn second.

“Ain’t this cute?” You ask as you show him a kitchen container that’s shaped like a flower.

“Very,” he replies without the same enthusiasm.

“What about this? I should totally get these,” you go on as you reach the cutlery and glasses, showing him a set of brass coffee scoops.

“Sure,” he answers, but he isn’t really listening.

Eventually, you reach the section of pillows, blankets, and bedding. He wants to go straight to the rows of beds along the wall and surrounding the path on the floor, but you grab at the end of your cart to steer him towards the linens.

“I feel like I should get some new bedding to go along with the new bed, don’t you think?” You scan the different patterns and colors. Joel hums beside you, clearly lost in his thoughts despite being the one who suggested coming along.

“Yeah, I really think this lilac set would look fantastic against my skin when you fuck me,” you say without any suggestive tone to your voice, then wait.

“Sure wou—“ Joel takes a second, nearly snapping his neck as he quickly turns towards you to look at you. He splutters, “Wait, what?”

“What?” You smile too innocently, “I didn’t say anything. I just said that these would look fantastic with my bedroom walls. Honestly, Joel, you should listen more.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you, parking your shared cart that he has nothing of his own in. He walks towards you again and God, you want to kiss him as he smirks at you, “You’re playin’ with me.”

“Not at all,” you say with a soft giggle as he looks around for other people, who, luckily, are nowhere to be seen, before kissing you in the middle of the store. You wrap your arms around his neck as his own comes around your waist.

It only takes a moment for him to pull back. You miss him the second that he is gone, though instead of going back to your cart again, he scans the room once more and then grabs at the hem of your jeans.

“What’re you—?” You look down with surprise and a pulsating feeling between your legs.

“I’m so fuckin’ bored, let’s just go do what we’re here for,” he yanks at the front of your jeans and steers you towards the row of beds. Your head swims and your legs try to follow wherever he tugs you.

“O-okay, yes, alright,” you stutter.

Joel only lets go when you choose the first bed to try out. You try to concentrate on the design as you run a hand over the material, but the grasp Joel has just had on your clothes makes you wonder if it translates into the bedroom. Fuck, you need a bed.

Unfortunately, you are also very picky; too soft, too hard, bad design, bad bed frame design, made of plastic, not convincing enough to look like wood.

“How do you like this one?” You ask as you lay down on the millionth bed with Joel. It’s the first one that has some potential. You wiggle to get comfortable, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“No,” he simply replies, turning onto his side to face you. You turn your head, not daring to mirror his position.

“Right, let’s hear it, Mr. Miller, what’s the verdict of this possible contender?” You sigh dramatically.

“First of all, ’m not the picky one here. We’ve had some fine contenders,” he points out and makes you smile, “But this one? Wouldn’ trust that bed frame, the headboard.”

“And what has the headboard done?” You roll your eyes.

“Nothing, but I’d for sure have you break it. We need somethin’ sturdier.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you’re sure that every drop of blood in your body goes down between your thighs.

Eventually, you arrive home with a bed that has a name that you are unable to pronounce and a Joel who tells you not to disturb him as he assembles said bed with a difficult name.

You try protesting against being left out of the project, but Joel reminds you of the stepladder massacre from the day that you had met, making you shut your mouth and pout prettily in your living room.

He leaves your house briefly to get his power drill from his garage, and you practically froth around the mouth at the idea of him power drilling his way to fixing up a new bed for you. If only he’d allowed you to join him, so you could’ve at least silently watched and admired him from the other side of the room. The images that flood your mind are as relentless as Joel’s comment about your new bed’s headboard.

When he eventually comes into the living room, he takes your hand and leads you through the house to show you his masterpiece.

“One new bed for the lady, even put the mattress on,” Joel says, stopping in the doorway to your bedroom. You look up at him with a smile and kiss him softly. He is warm, slightly sweaty after working in the August heat.

“Thank you, Joel,” you say against his lips, and there it goes again. You wrap your arms around him and he cups your face, and then you kiss like your lives depend on it and stop just as things start to get heated.

“No, don’t,“ Joel mutters quietly as you try to pull away, not letting you as he starts tugging a little at your hips, “Don’t run away from me again.”

“Mhmm… okay,” you hum and find his lips once more, but you pull away as soon as you can feel the hard bulge of his cock underneath his jeans. God, you want him, but he has no idea how much that scares you too. What if you lose him right after? What if you can’t be what he needs? Oh God, what if it’s bad? Nothing is better than disappointment.

Joel furrows his brow in confusion and then takes a step back from you to look at you properly, “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” you run a hand over your forehead and through your hair, letting out a sigh that’s followed by an embarrassed chuckle, “I promise. It’s just...”

Joel has crossed his arms over his chest like he usually does when he is expecting bad news, probably a rejection in this case. You hate yourself for making him feel like he needs his guard up.

“I’m shitting my pants here, Miller, look at you,” you groan with brutal honesty at the tip of your tongue. He raises a brow at your choice of words, but doesn’t interrupt you, “Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly and then been afraid of getting it in case you’ve piled the expectations too high?”

Joel shifts his weight from side to side for a moment. He doesn’t say anything to you for what seems like minutes but is, in reality, nothing more than ten seconds.

“Can’t say I’m not jus’ a lil’ hurt that you think you’ll be disappointed by now,” he finally replies without looking at you, tapping his fingers on his arm.

“I just meant that I want it to be perfect and there’s no way I’m going to be perfect and then I’ll worry if I disappoint you,” you confess.

You hear him scoff in disbelief at your postulate like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “Sure, I’m definitely gonna turn ya down after gettin’ in bed with you and knowin’ you probably wanna do it again in the near future.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” it does sound pretty ridiculous. You step towards him again, tugging at his arms to uncross them until you can walk into them. You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic smile, “I don’t think you know just how much I think about your hands touching me.”

Joel’s offense is gone from his face in mere seconds, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm with a little newfound confidence. There’s something good about having told him your concern, putting it out there for him to do with it what he wants despite how badly you want the ability to read minds right now. You decide to stroke his ego a little, “With your job? I bet you know how to use them.”

“Then lemme show you, baby. I’m great with my hands,” he kisses your lips again, but only briefly, following it up with descending down your neck. You let him for the first time, tilting your head to the side to give him more access and shivering at the feel of his nose bumping along your carotid artery.

You hold onto him as he backs you further into the room, shoving down the instinct, caused by anxiety, to make him stop once again. Just let yourself have this, you try to remind yourself, don’t overthink it. You’re cute. He is sexy. He wants you.

“Tell me whatcha like,” he says as he guides you across the floor that’s scattered with cardboard and tools, “Maybe decidin’ what we’re doing will calm you a little.”

“Uh, it’s been a while,” you suddenly feel the edge of your newly acquired bed hit the back of your knees and make you fall onto it. Looking up at him from this angle makes your pulse quicken, your blood going straight to your clit and making it throb behind your denim jeans.

“Or not. Should I list suggestions?” He asks, sinking to his knees on the floor at the end of the bed. You spread your legs a little without thinking and he smirks at you as if you’ve lost a bet, “I could eat your pussy. Would ya like that?”

You moan at the mere words.

“Need to hear you say it,” Joel’s hands are on the hem of your jeans like they had been in the middle of Ikea. He does quick work of undoing them, but not pulling them down just yet, “Say yes, baby.”

“Yes, fuck, I want that,” you have to stare up at the ceiling again to keep your composure. You have a feeling that none of your expectations have ever been too high.

“Will you then tell me what you like? Tell me how to suck your pretty little clit?” His fingers curl into the denim and start pulling until he needs to sit back to get your jeans all the way off. He accidentally pulls your socks off too, but it just earns you a kiss to your ankle before he crawls forward again and you feel like prey at the mercy of a predator.

“Go slow,” you say breathlessly.

“Of course,” he reassures, hooking a finger into the waistband of your panties next, “Tell me if I’m too much.”

“No! I mean, this is good, I like your filthy words,” you suck in a breath as your cunt is exposed to him, cheeks burning up with shyness but he just groans. It feels very vulnerable to be naked from the waist down when he isn’t,

“I can touch you?” His voice indicates a question. You nod slowly, tensing up quite a bit as he rests one huge hand on your left hip bone and reaches between your legs with his index- and middle fingers. He runs them through your glistening folds, earning a gasp.

“Do you usually come from touching your clit or?”

“No, yes, but I like my g-spot stimulated too. Simultaneously,” you try to reply confidently.

He hums and nods, taking it all in. It takes a few extra seconds before he gently rubs his fingers along the side of your clit, dragging his fingers up and down slowly to test out the waters and see how sensitive you are. He guesses very, because you let out a soft moan at the contact, so he keeps going.

“We’ll get to your g-spot,” he says matter-of-factly, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull at the promise. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a position like this, too busy restoring the house and falling in love to even think about seeking out casual sex. Who knew that you’d end up with something so not casual?

“When did you last do this?” You ask right before he leans down to taste you.

“Eat pussy?” He asks with a smirk.

“I meant slept with someone in general,” your head swims. Joel may have halted his head’s movements down towards your cunt, but he still has his fingers between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at what his hands are doing.

“Don’t think I’d use in general about sex,” he replies smugly instead of giving you a proper answer. You realize it doesn’t matter as he rubs teasing circles around your clit, still avoiding any direct touch to get you properly worked up and wet. You cannot wait for him to follow through on his plan to eat you out, which you aren’t sure when you last had a guy do to you.

“Fine, forget I asked,” you moan with a roll of your eyes.

Joel can sense the brat in you looming under the surface. He gets bolder, eyes changing to something hungrier than soft. He pulls you by your ankles to get you closer to him instead of the other way around. It makes you yelp, but he chuckles, “And there’s that attitude I like. Are you gonna let me now? No more interruptions?”

“No more interruptions,” you confirm.

Finally, he lowers his head between your legs and puts a stop to the noise in your head. You have been fantasizing about this position for months now, waited for the opportunity to lift your legs up to wrap them around his neck and shoulders.

His tongue is warm and wet on you, trailing through your folds as if he is eating ice cream and it’s melting in his hands. He makes you throw your head back, makes you look up again as you don’t want to miss seeing him like this but only to have you force your eyes away because it’s too much.

“Shit, Joel,” you swear when his nose bumps your clit. You try to lift your hips up into his mouth, but a big hand rests on your pelvis and aggressively pushes you down into the mattress again. That ignites something close to fire in your body, and Joel senses it immediately when your skin grows hotter.

“You like that, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, arousal dripping off his stubble, “When I get a little rough? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised with the way you like me to say filth.”

“I don’t want you to say anything right now,” you whine, “Not what your mouth is for.”

“And I told ya to guide me,” he retorts, replacing his tongue with his fingers whilst you are talking. He spreads your lips open, watching as another drip of slick runs down between your cheeks to pool on the mattress.

“Don’t need any guidance,” you squirm as he holds your labia apart, clenching around nothing.

“Then ya ain’t gettin’ anything,” he threatens, “I can watch your pussy jump under my touch for a long time. Ain’t gotta be home later. This is only to do it exactly how you want it, sweetheart. Needa know how you like to fuck.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought of him being a little mean if you don’t show a bit of cooperation. Your mouth parts as you pant in your compromising position. Joel looks up at you expectantly and you realize that maybe, as much as this is a bit of fun, it’s possible that he just wants to be reassured too.

“I want you to pay more attention to my clit, use the flat of your tongue, and don’t suck until I’m close,” you explain while your head spins. Your elbows ache from holding yourself up.

Another droplet of slick runs down. Without warning, Joel catches it with the tip of his tongue and it has you crying out. He remembers your demands, swiping his tongue through your folds and licking your clit expertly.

“Need your fingers inside me,” you only just manage to let out whilst your orgasm burns low in your belly. He follows through but only after pushing your t-shirt up to expose your bra, cupping your breast with his left hand, and sneaking his right down between your legs.

Your nipples harden underneath his touch. Your pussy clamps around his fingers. And then he sucks your clit into his mouth, causing your hips to stutter and your thighs to twitch. He wiggles his head a little, goes rougher.

“Just like that, keep go— oh, Joel, you’re gonna—“ you flop down onto the bed again, elbows giving out underneath you. With the way that the pressure keeps building, you scramble to grab the sheets with both of your hands, “Gonna make me come, baby. Just— Ah!”

Everything fades as your orgasm begins. The flutters of your walls are intense, causing you to throw your head back into the mattress and concentrate on each pulsating contraction of your cunt.

Joel pumps his fingers as he works you through it, sucking your swollen clit until you have to push him away to stop it from hurting. He lifts his head at your indication of wanting him to stop before removing your legs from his shoulders. He crawls into bed with you, hovering on top of you with his clothes still on and his legs hanging out off the edge.

“Now how was that?” He asks despite knowing the answer. The warm and handsome smile that you love so much translates so well into the context of being in bed together, and with a little more confidence from just having climaxed, you cup his face and kiss him. He tastes deliciously of you.

“Can’t complain,” you say with a little laugh and earn a little glare that Joel cannot keep on his face for long. He nudges your nose with his own and kisses you once again. The nervousness that you had felt earlier seems so far away now, so silly when he makes it so easy to forget.

“Take your pants off, Miller,” you add, moving to crawl back on the bed. You start undressing yourself completely, pulling at your t-shirt, “Can’t just be about me as much as that sounds entertaining.”

“Confident after havin’ climaxed,” he says out loud like it’s a mental note for himself, removing his shirt. He laughs whilst getting out of his jeans, out loud at your outraged noise.

You don’t know if it’s the comment that makes you the worst undresser in history, but somehow your bra becomes stuck in the sleeve of your t-shirt. Before you know it, the shirt simply won’t move anymore despite being halfway over your head, “Oh no.”

You can feel Joel moving on the bed. His attention is on you immediately, “What?”

“It’s stuck,” you admit but only after a long pause. Warmth creeps up your chest to your face as embarrassment fills you up, and even more so when Joel barks out a laugh at your eagerness getting the better of you.

“Sit still, you’re only makin’ it worse, we gotta start from scratch,” he says as you continue pulling at the fabric. He starts tugging your clothes back on until he has your face visible again and your body as dressed as before.

“Hey you,” he says with a boyish grin, then slowly works your clothes back off the right way.

“Hi,” you sputter when you’re finally completely naked, voice flustered. Joel is only in his boxers now, and God, he is tenting in them. It’s been on your mind a bunch of times; how big is he? Now that you see him straining against the fabric, you know that he is going to be the biggest you’ve ever had.

After he has tugged off his boxers, and you’ve nearly passed out from the vision, Joel pushes gently on your chest to get you to lie down. He helps you to bend your legs, plants your feet flat on the bed, and then settles on his knees between them.

“Condom?” He asks, stroking your thighs as he waits.

“I’m on the pill,” you reply, “And it’s been God knows how long, so I’m clean.”

“God knows how long,” he snorts, leaning down over you and holding himself up on his elbows, “We better fix that. Don’t ya think so?”

“Mhm,” you look up into his eyes, “Definitely. Yeah.”

“Wrap your legs ‘round my waist,” he guides you softly, can sense your hesitation or maybe it’s just how he can feel your heartbeat against his own chest. It’s rapid, beating like a scared animal.

You do as you are told. He is able to get even closer now, and when he is flush against your body, he kisses you slowly until he is allowed to slip his tongue into your mouth. You slide your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, and he hums into your mouth.

When he needs air, he only pulls back inches.

“I want you so much,” you breathe quietly, hands still at the back of his head. He smiles softly at you, reaches down between the two of you, and presses the tip of his cock against you.

The whimper you let out as he pushes inside has him attentively moving slower. Inch by inch, he fills you to the brim and you can barely believe that just a few months ago, this had only been a brief fantasy.

“Okay? You want me to stop?” He questions with genuine concern, but you quickly shake your head. That is the last thing you want.

“No, you’re just big … and it’s been a while,” you blush.

“Okay, tell me if it’s too—“

You pull him into a sweet kiss, legs tightening around his waist to make him realize that you don’t want him to go anywhere. When you pull back to talk, he is on the brink of interrupting you again. You shake your head, “Joel Miller. Shut up and just fuck me.”

“Wow, yeah. Can do.”

The slow outwards drag of his cock is almost more intense, leaving you empty for the briefest moment before it fills you up again. You moan as your muscles squeeze around him, accepting him so easily as you finally relax into him.

He rolls his hips sensually, fucks you open till your new bed squeaks and you hope that he was right about its sturdiness. For show, and to test it out, you reach above your head to place your palm against the headboard.

“Let’s see then,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t even— fuck. I wouldn’t even be mad if you break my bed,” you pants, “Angle your hips a bit.”

You squeeze your legs around his waist to guide him, and when his cock nudges against your g-spot, you clench involuntarily around him. It pulls a groan from his lips, filth spilling from his mouth, “Yeah, you like that? Want it again?”

“Fuck yes, I want it again,” you whine, eyes falling closed and breathing rapidly, “Just like that! Fuck, Joel!”

Joel picks up the pace, leans further into you. He also adds more force behind his thrusts, making your eyes roll back when his pelvis aligns with your clit. The hand on the back of his neck slides down for more leverage, holding on for dear life as he pounds you into the mattress.

“Keep going, I’m almost there,” you cry, heat continuously pooling at the base of your spine. Suddenly, you have both hands on his back, raking your nails down until they dig into the widest part of his back, “Faster!”

“I know, baby,” he growls, but it sounds mostly out of breath. He gives you everything he has, seeking out your pleasure by making the bed slam into the wall, “Can feel you. Let go, baby, come on my cock.”

It is nothing but raw and hot pleasure in the next moment as he gets you to orgasm, causing you to release a breath that you do not know that you have been holding. You are taken aback by its intensity. A high-pitched cry leaves you as the first clench of your cunt hits you and Joel continues fucking you through it.

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he pants, buries his head in the crook of your neck to chase his own reward. He comes after a few more thrusts, coating your walls in his warm come and saying your name. You don’t think your name has ever sounded so beautiful with a string of swear words following it.

Time stands still after Joel pulls out. You expect yourself to be blissed out, sleepy, and quiet, maybe even annoyed at having to get up and clean yourself up, but instead, you find that you cannot stop grinning up at the ceiling.

“We are definitely fucking doing that again,” you say despite being completely out of breath.

“Was that perfect?” Joel teases, “Or did I disappoint ya?”

“Fuck you,” you giggle, still high on dopamine. You suspect you will be in the coming days, weeks, months, years. Hopefully.

“Just did,” he says proudly.

“You sure fucking did.”

“You always get so foul-mouthed after sex?” He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He rests his free hand on the sweat-dampened skin of your stomach, “Or?”

“Only if it’s fucking good,” you respond but mostly to the ceiling. You want to cry, giggle, scream, and laugh out loud, but mostly you want to say that you love him. One thing at a time, you think to yourself, next time. Even if the next time is in a moment.

Taglist: @elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #my writing #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #dilf!joel

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dimepdf · 10 months

Text

★ 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝟓𝟎𝟓. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. jealousy is a terrible disease, and you and Eren are both suffering from a severe case of it.

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭notes. back on the eren d rider train I need more fics of him BAD like there is a shortage of bad bitches that write for eren on my feed and I need that to be fixed real soon. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭word count. 3.2k (23 min read).

EREN WAS CONVINCED you were batshit crazy, that would be the only reason why your brain would always find some new reason to push him away enough to have him chase after you like you had a pretty pink leash around his neck hooked to a collar with his name on it.

You would always manage to push his buttons just enough to tip him off, and in return, you weren’t the type to just sit back and let some man yell at you cause he certainly was not your father nor your mother.

The arguments you two would be involved in usually led to very amazing angry sex, clearing out a grace period enough to last until the next time you chose to push his buttons.

Well, this time it was different—at least that was your claimed reasoning for telling your friends why you and Eren were on another one of your famous relationship breaks.

This one happened so fast that Eren wasn’t even sure what the hell he was talking about until you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his number for an entire week, holding onto the smallest things that reminded him of your existence.

Wincing every time he would see your post on your Instagram story all dressed up and going out with your friends looking so unfazed. Maybe this time it actually was different, and the thought of that scared the absolute shit out of Eren. The heavy feeling of the thought of you losing you left with him a constantly collapsing moping pit forming in his stomach.

It was settled between his friends that they wouldn't let him mope around his place alone any longer, tired of hearing and depressed, mentioning your name on his lips, convincing him enough to coax him out of his apartment littered with reminders of you to hang out at some house party.

What those said friends failed to mention was that you would be there as well, with about seventy people scattered from the front yard to the pool in the back with music raging so loud he could feel the vibration from where he sat lounging watching you from his seat on the back porch.

He was supposed to be having a good time, getting messed up enough to not remember your name. Yet there he was, sitting slouched a few feet away from you, his heart on his sleeve.

A blunt caught between his lips, minding his business as best as he possibly could, but it was just so hard to believe that he could hear the familiar pitch of your laughter filtered through the music.

"Dude," Connie sighs, interrupting Eren’s growing annoyance, his attention yanking away from where you stood, hugging up a little too closely for comfort to the smirking Armin.

Eren hands the blunt over with a groan, his legs spreading comfortably and shifting back to lean with his back against the patio chair.

With his head resting on the headrest pillow, he closes his eyes tightly, praying for his high to hit him like a truck so fucking soon, wishing for just one night where he wouldn't have to deal with his annoying emotions for you. "Shit, my bad man, I didn't even know that she would be here."

Connie rests his hand on Eren’s shoulder, helping ground him back down to earth. "But hey, are you gonna be alright?" The question lingered in the stale air before Eren could process the rigid tone behind it, his eyes fluttering open to Connie eyeing down someone from across the yard with a knowing horny spark in his eye, knowing that his friend was a natural-born player and that it would be just so unfair to hold him back from his natural element.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, man, I’ll be here." forcing a tight grin from his lips, Eren’s hand waving away his friend with a coaxing hand. "All alone.." he sighed under his breath once Connie had finally stalked away, leaving the dark-haired brunette to sit with his own flooding thoughts.

The sight in front of him making him feel as if he was witnessing a kamikaze from just a few steps away from how hard his heart was throbbing watching you completely ignore his existence as if you weren't just sprouting I love yous and kissing all over each other not even a few weeks ago.

He needs to move to get you out of his sight before the swallowing feeling can take up his entire mood and ruin his high. Stumbling around the large crowd of people, he parted through the crowd, finding the unknown kitchen counter that was decorated with enticingly labeled cheap liquor bottles and mixers that were calling his name.

He hadn't even managed to get one cup down before the slush of his drink was met with the white of his graphic t-shirt, a curse hidden under his breath turning ready to spit the first insult on his mind he could spout from the large cloud of frustration festering from his annoyance only to be cut off.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, dude." His attacker was a very apologetic and cute woman, with short dark hair, warm olive skin, and a very bold red bra peeking through the white cropped cami she wore, catching his attention embarrassingly quick enough for him to forget that it was better to actually make eye contact when speaking to another person.

His first initial words were punched back into his throat, a lazy smile taking their place instead. "It's already, uh, the drink tasted like shit anyways." He nervously chuckled, like he couldn't really help the nervousness that waved over him standing in the presence of a pretty girl who had introduced herself quite cheerily as Mikasa.

If you had told him a few hours ago when he first arrived that he would actually be having fun, let alone sitting with some random girl in his lap, Eren would have called you crazy, yet there he was genuinely grinning ear to ear face to face with Mikasa, who had made it her personal mission to make Eren have a much better night than he was.

The two getting awfully close in such a short span of time, sitting down clinging onto each other, sprouting out about absolutely nothing important but the genuine want to talk to each other, not to mention that It helps that Eren absolutely finds her stunning, their bodies sharing warmth sitting so close, it was only natural for the flushed feeling to take over with the rake of her nails tangling in his shaggy mullet.

He couldn't even use drinking as an excuse, babysitting the same drink she had remade for him as an apology for spilling the last one. There was really no real reason why he had suddenly leaned in and caught his lips against hers so hungrily.

It doesn't help that Mikasa kisses him back with the same amount of eager roughness, practically straddling him on top of his lap at this point, the two heavily making out in the open.

With hands wandering, Eren reaches out a hold around her hips, his mind betraying him just a bit, not being able to fully push away the comparison to your figure. The thought makes him react with a wince, parting from the kiss with his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

Mikasa leans back, pushing his hair from his face while letting out a breathy fit of giggles, not discovering the hidden uncomfortable shift in Eren’s behavior. It wasn't her fault, he couldn't blame the girl for him being so caught up with his ex to the point where even when he was kissing other women, he couldn't help but get his mind off of you.

"If you want, we could go upstairs." Mikasa whispers in his ear, leading a shiver up his spine with a flash of sexual excitement. He is pleased at the end of her offer, locked in with the peck of her lips against his jawline.

The offer is absolutely knee-jerking, and if it were any other situation, Eren probably would have let this really pretty girl he just met jump his bone, but all the confidence that had been built up from the night had instantly drained the second he had caught your gaze from across the room.

Both staring at each other pointedly, Eren’s lashes fluttered under your unflinched, hard glare as Mikasa continued to litter kisses with the promises of hickeys around his collarbone.

He wanted to feel so smug, wanted to use the new attention as a way to finally get back at you for making him feel the way that he felt watching you dance with Armin, but the revenge just didn't feel right, and his mood soured further at the thought of using some poor innocent girl to get back at you.

The intense eye contact is cut off by Mikasa bringing her face closer to his, seeking out another kiss. Eren squeezes his eyes closed, wanting nothing more but to get the looping image of you and Armin out of his damned head.

"What do you say?" being reminded in a soft whisper of the intimate question still in the air from earlier, the creep of her fingers dawning down his chest and rubbing with intention at the crotch of his jeans, Eren grabbing her wandering hand before it could do any more active damage.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn’t right now," Eren sheepishly responds, his eyes searching for any ounce of rejection on her features,trying to shake the sight of you from his attention.

Mikasa doesn't seem all that hurt, if anything, she nods her head in understanding, taking no for an answer without another word, pulling her hands away and wrapping them around his shoulders instead, her head turning enough to show that she knows his attention is entirely too spent on someone else.

"What a player," she chuckles knowingly, not quite catching a glance at you, yet her eyes still scan around the room. "Something tells me I should go get another drink before whoever you're looking for comes and bites off my head." And just like that, Eren's perfect distraction slips through his fingers, and he's left alone once more, kicked back with the same emotions he had coming into the party.

His attention is rudely pulled back towards you as you appear in front of him. It was like you were hunting, searching for the perfect moment when he had his guard down to strike.

You placed your hand on your hips as he dared to stare up at you through his lashes, his body too at ease with the disappointed expression twisted on your face. "Are you fucking drunk right now?"

"Well, is this not a party?" Eren replies almost too easily, his tone has deepened enough to get a shifted, sneering reaction from you at the snappy comeback. Watching your movements a bit too intensely as your arms crossed over your chest, Eren didn't bother to look away from how plump your breasts looked in the pretty little crop top you managed to squeeze them into.

"I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home since I saw Connie dip with someone, but excuse me, I see that you're too busy tongue-fucking any random slut willing to give it out tonight, huh?" Your insults dig deep, even with the drooling sight of your tight-skirted figure dancing right in front of him. Eren sucked in a breath at the acknowledgement.

"You broke up with me." He spoke straight to your thighs, his tongue tracing over the bottom of his lip now that he could see just how good you looked tonight. All dressed up with your makeup done, his heart didn't want to imagine what you were hoping to get into if his presence wasn't there to ruin the mood. "Remember?"

"Fine, walk your ass home." Rolling your eyes and storming away, knowing that he was in the right, Eren let out a sigh before sleazily trailing behind your grumbling every step.

Watching the sway of your hips as you walk in front of him all the way to your car, slumping into the passenger side without any word even as you continued to have a one-sided conversation about how much of an asshole he was for not saying bye to his little girlfriend he was kissing on even though Eren was pretty sure Mikasa would be more understanding than what you were giving her credit for.

The drive home is tense, the soft pitter of rain hitting the windshield wipers as the streetlights leech orange and white colors through your tinted windows. The radio played lowly, not loud enough to recognize the soft melody of something playing but not quite low enough to have you both sitting in complete silence.

"Are you guys talking?" Eren’s voice is still deep, almost cushioning from how gently he posed the question, almost as if he were so loud that he would be afraid to scare you away.

Your fingers clench around the leather of the wheel, eyes glancing away from the road for just a split second to give him a knitted-brow look. "What, who are you talking about?"

Eren feels like he’s back in middle school again, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his shirt, all nervous around you. "You and Armin, you guys looked pretty close at the party." He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, his head leaning back on the headrest, looking how desperate he had to look, practically pining over you with his broken-hearted expression.

"I should ask the same for you then." You ignore him, reaching to dial the music just a bit louder, not wanting to sit in silence if it meant opening up a question and answer panel between just him and you.

The statement hurts, both physically and emotionally. Eren gets reminded of the pit still forming in his stomach.

The frowning emotion threatening a knot in his throat, having to swallow down the absolute word vomit of apologizes and begging he has threatened to spill from his throat in your honor, "Well, I’ve missed you." Was all that he could manage before he had to physically turn himself away from you, using the pressing cold glass to help aid the burning firepit of emotions he had covering the rest of his reasonability in dark, thick sud.

You didn't react, at least not in line of sight, even if you heard him, you hadn’t shown any acknowledgement of his heartbreaking confession. Not even when you pulled into his driveway had you bothered to give him a glance other than the action of you sliding off your seatbelt and letting him sit in the car for a breath before he was trialing after you once more.

Trudging through his apartment, even with you inside the home walls, you still felt a sense of lonesomeness. "Ren…"

"Do you wanna come to bed?" Your voice sounds through the halls, following back to his bedroom, the door left ajar enough to see you lying in the place right where he had thought you belonged, blankets lifted open, enticing him to lie down next to you with a sobering small smile.

Crawling under the blankets right next to you without another word, cuddling against your chest, wrapping his arms around the front of your torso, and hugging close enough for you to lean with your back resting against the mattress as his face rubbed against the plush of your falling and rising cushioning breast.

"I’ve…missed you too." You lowly admit, using your acrylics to softly comb through the back of his hair, easing back his tension farther with a small kiss pecked on the top of his forehead.

The sound of the blanket shifting as it carries with Eren’s movements, his arms ankling at both sides of your head, holding himself up from pressing you with his entire body weight as he slots himself between your part legs.

Your fingers twining tighter into his scalp as he leans down for a kiss, the muffle of his moan pressing against your seeking lips, letting you slip your tongue inside of his mouth, adding to the rising heated makeout session.

The pace never lets up, growing with more eagerness. Eren frees one of his arms, letting his hands wander down, squeezing your thigh part by the bend of the knee, and having your skirt ride up unwearable to your waist.

Knuckling aside the lace of your panties away from your pussy, he used the pad of his thumb to tease at your clit only adding sinking two digits into the equation. Your cunt welcomed them with a greedy buck at the buck of your hips against his touch, kicking off his jeans awkwardly.

Eren is already sweating from the grouling press of his hard cock miserably untouched against your thigh, grinding shamelessly against your leg while his fingers pistoned with a lewd wet squelch from your coated arousal inside of you.

Pausing only when your fist tugs with a knot full of his hair tangled between your knuckles, your other hands push him away by the press of your palm against his chest.

Switching positions with Eren almost a little too obentaintly with you sitting straddled on his lap in an all too familiar position, you look angelic on top of him with your hair dawning over your face knocking out of his daze with a hiss at the slow teasing feeling of your fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and pressing his tip at the folds of your entrance.

"I’ve missed you." The soft brush of your coo fans against his face from how close you were, and with your noses brushing, you both react breathlessly to the feeling of you lowering yourself down on his cock. The thrusting clench of his hips living up from the mattress and intruding deeper inside of you left him whimpering under your touch. "I’ve missed you so, so much, Ren."

The pace of your bouncing hips is relentless, starting at your own brutal pace and grounding yourself with heavy palms pressed against his chest.

Eren couldn't do anything but lie back and whine against your mouth, as you used him for your own release from the mental war he had to not end the fun for which he had been craving all week. Whimpering at the amazing feeling he missed so badly at your pussy squeezing against him so snuggly as if your body had just been made for him so perfectly.

Eren’s hands help guide the grind of your hips as your muscles tense and tremble on top of him suddenly, your body going rigid, hugging your collapsed body against his hold, begging a string of nonsense as your cunt continues to milk him until his very last drop.

His hips don't bother halting, switch positions as he lays on top to help with his lazy, slow strokes, listening to your soft whines as you hug him closer to you, wrapping your trembling legs against his hips and pulling him as deep as you possibly could.

“I missed you too baby.”

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#eren yeager #eren jeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jeager x reader #aot smut

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thewulf · 7 months

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Who Did This To You? Pt 2 || Rafe Cameron

Summary: Request - Rafe fic based on song wait in the truck by Hardy. Basically he sees her one night that he’s going for a drive to calm down picks her up and drives to the house of maybe her dad or boyfriend and shoots them... Read Rest Here

A/N: Had to write a part two. Thanks for the inspo @loving-and-dreaming !!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

“You did what?” You tried, but failed at, stopping your jaw from literally hitting the ground as you looked between your brother and Rafe. Neither looked too terribly thrilled to be in the presence of the other. You would’ve felt the same a night prior. But now? Now all you wanted to do was hide into Rafe’s arms. He made you feel safe, protected, secure. A different kind of feeling than when you were with your friends.

Rafe looked away from you quickly. Almost ashamed? Your head snapped back to your brother who looked terribly uncomfortable.

“JJ?” You asked him.

JJ shrugged only muttering, “Piece of shit got what he had coming for him.” Earning a small huff and grin from the other man in the room. JJ looked back up to your eyes only softening seeing your distressed state. As awful as a human as he was he was still your father. Was your father.

“Rafe?” You asked turning your attention back towards the man you never thought you’d have any good will towards. Yet here you were. Pining over the man. A man that even JJ would have to accept. How could he not? He’d quite literally saved your life last night. There was no way you were going to make it all the way to John B’s place.

Rafe sighed looking back up at you with that same softness that JJ was just exuding, “He almost killed you. I just, I don’t…” He paused, sighing once more before forcing a hand through his tangled hair, “He would’ve killed you if I didn’t get to him first Y/N.” He stated matter of factly as if to justify his own actions.

You sat down on the chair surrounding Rafe’s kitchen table, “Wow.” Your brain couldn’t think of any words to speak as it reeled over the events of the last few hours, “What about you?” The panic kicked in forcing you to jump up from the seat and back over to the much taller boy, “Are you going to get in trouble?” You asked looking at him with pleading eyes. You’d never dream of putting him in this spot. Putting anybody in such a spot.

He shook his head before gently brushing your own tangled hair out of your face, “It’s taken care of, don’t worry about it.” He refrained from going ‘too far’ in front of your older brother. Rafe knew JJ was a hothead, much like himself. Much different than the gentle soul that you were. A natural balance to his chaos.

“Are you sure?” You asked once more, afraid you could lose him just as quickly as you had gotten him.

He nodded, “Positive. Don’t worry about it.”

You turned back towards your brother, “What about us? Where are we going to go?”

“I’ll drop out. Get a job. Be your caretaker.” He shrugged as if it was as simple as that. Oh, how you wish it were that simple.

But you simply shook your head walking back over to him, “You can’t do that JJ.”

He smiled over to you trying his best to stay as calm as possible for you. It was natural that neither of you had felt much for the man. He was simply a body that took care of the bills at this point. But that was now gone. The two of you had to fend for yourself just like John B was currently doing. How in the hell had both your dads died within the span of a few months?

“You and I both know I’m never leaving this island. What’s it matter if I graduate school? I’ll get my GED and call it a day.” He pulled you in for a rare hug. One that he knew you needed by the way you were tensed up. He knew how off kilter your life had just been swung into.

“But JJ…” You started before he shook his head interrupting you mid-sentence. Rafe walked behind you giving you some distance, letting you have this conversation with your brother.

“It’s been figured out.” He finally let his bear hug grip on you go before looking down at his phone before sighing, “Look, gotta go pick JB and Sarah up. Going to fill them in. Don’t worry about it Y/N. Let us handle it, okay?”

You nodded, “I’m sixteen JJ, not five. I can help.” Letting out a frustrated sigh JJ just shook his head again before wrapping you up in another loving hug. He knew you needed it. He reserved these hugs just for moments like these. When your world was threatening to topple down right in front of you. He couldn’t bear it. You were one of the few consistent things in his life that always, no matter what, believed and cheered him on. His own personal ball of sun. He couldn’t let that diminish. No, he’d rather die than let that happen.

“You’re still my little sister. No matter what, yeah?” He grinned while punching you on the arm lightly. He didn’t know where you were hurting but he knew you certainly were. You were bruised and scratched from head to toe. JJ tried not to let his eyes linger on the particularly nasty bruises or scrapes. It should’ve been him. He should’ve been there for you. His worst fear come right to life in front of him. The sunshine that you were had been hit over and over again. JJ couldn’t help to feel like he had failed you.

Bobbing your head up and down you couldn’t help but to smile at him, “Yeah, okay.”

“Atta girl.” He walked towards the front door, “I’ll pick you up later?” He looked back and forth between you and Rafe who finally decided to step in.

“No need. I’ll drop her off at John B’s?” He asked as he walked towards your brother not letting you step in. It was odd having a male figure be so caring towards you. Not that JJ wasn’t. He was just your older brother who made you tough. He wasn’t always the one you wanted to cry to. He wasn’t your shoulder to lean on when everything was tumbling down. He was the one that was always there to build you back up. He was your brother. Your JJ. Your world and your starts. Your best friend. The person you needed most. JJ.

Your brother gave him a quick nod, “Sure.” He turned back towards you as his hand tugged at the doorknob, “Text me when you’re on your way.”

“Sounds good JJ. I’ll see you later.” You waved as he opened and shut the door quickly leaving you alone again with Rafe. He was quick. In and out in thirty minutes. Changing your life in thirty minutes. He might’ve just changed it for the better though. It might be naïve of you to think JJ could pull this off but why couldn’t he? He was always resourceful when he needed to be.

Feeling a gentle hand on your shoulder you were tugged out of your thoughts immediately, “Are you alright?” Rafe asked quietly seeing you stuck in your head.

You turned to look up to him with wide eyes, “I’m… Yeah I’m fine.” You sucked in a breath suddenly feeling incredibly awkward under his gaze. His very intense Kook stare you were terribly used to.

He frowned as he studied your nervous expression. Were you scared of him because he killed your father? JJ left you here so he couldn’t be worried. But were you?

Rafe decided to test the waters and reach out a hand to you. Without a second thought you brought your hand to his bringing his confidence up just a little. He tugged at your arm gently knowing you were in pretty serious pain. You complied following his to the couch. He pulled you into his side. He ran his hand along your back trying to calm your racing heart.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay.” Rafe whispered in your ear as he laid his head atop of yours.

You nodded into his chest feeling him wrap his arms around your waist pulling you ever so much closer, “I’m confused and a little sad. But I’m okay.”

He gave your hip a squeeze, “I’ll be here for you. Every step of the way.”

You let his words process in your head before finally speaking once again, “Why?” You just had to ask. It was eating at you, “Why do you care now?”

He didn’t let you go, only held you tighter, “I’ve always cared. I just didn’t know how to express it. Being uh… mean to you made it easier. My friends stayed away. They’re trouble. I’m trouble. You really shouldn’t want much to do with me Y/N.”

You sighed only letting your head fall completely onto his chest, “Yeah sure, whatever. My life’s already kind of fucked up isn’t it Rafe? Why not got all in?”

He smiled down you cuddled into him, “Because I care for you. Always have. Always will Maybank.” He began brushing your hair wish his fingers trying to tame it from the restless sleep you had the night prior.

You groaned, “I suppose I care for you to Rafe, please don’t go running away from me now.”

He shook his head, “Not unless you ask me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you sweet girl.”

You couldn’t help the creeping blush at that nickname he’d given you overnight, “Well, we’re in luck. Because that won’t happen.” You grinned up at him feeling that warmth you felt earlier spread around again, “Thank you Rafe.” You mumbled feeling sleepiness begin to take over you once more.

He kept brushing your hair hoping you’d fall asleep on him once again. Knowing full well your body needed the sleep to help recover after such an assault, “Anytime pretty. You know that.” He hoped in fact you did know that. Even though you’d been strangers moments prior he hoped you knew how much you really meant to him. He’d admired you from a distance hoping the cold shoulder would lead you away from him. And that worked until he saw you broken on the side of the rode. Rafe could never leave you to fend for yourself like that.

You mumbled something incoherent to his ears as you dozed off once again. He wasn’t sure how long you’d be asleep, but he was sure he wouldn’t move an inch hoping you’d get the best sleep you possibly could. He was a goner and he couldn’t really give less of a damn in that moment as you were curled up on him

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antimatterz · 8 months

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I'LL BE BY YOUR SIDE.

dan heng x gn!reader

summary: fear of abandonment is terrible, but your lover is there for you.

cw: reader has fear of abandonment, dark thoughts, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship

enyo's note: please, just please, don't come at me saying "this is toxic" or anything like that. this work is personal, so much that i'm hesitant to upload it but i still chose to do so in case more people are struggling with this. fear of abandonment is something serious and it's super hard to deal with. we don't choose to freak out when our person isn't near. we don't choose to need constant reassurance that they won't leave us. we don't want any of that. this is what it looks like for me on a bad day. feel free to come talk to me if you're struggling with the same !!

content under the cut | masterlist

lonely.

that's what you felt when you sat alone in the empty compartment of the astral express. there was no one, and that wasn't good for your mindset. you were restless, antsy, afraid, your mind wandering off to dan heng the entire time. it was always like that when he wasn't around you, but when you were utterly alone, it got severely worse.

nothing seemed to help; seeking distraction did nothing, it brought no peace to your mind to text march or himeko or anyone else, you couldn't focus on any activities, which let your mind roam endlessly.

where was dan heng? what was he doing? why wasn't he responding? was he okay? did something happen? was he going to leave you behind? your mind paused at the last line, realization hitting you like a truck.

the possibility was there.

leaving you was always an option, right? and to you, it seemed very likely. you weren't a fun and easy person; you were troubled, broken even. tearing at the seams almost perpetually. sure, you had your good moments, but did those make it worth to stick around? you had no idea, but the longer dan heng stayed away, the more you started to doubt his return. sure, you trusted dan heng – or you wanted to, at least. your fear of abandonment often wouldn't let you fully trust him.

everything was okay as long as he was with you, but as soon as he left to do something, fear crept up your spine, leaving you short of breath and extremely worried. bad habits awoke, you kept checking your phone, the express' entrance, every single thing that could hint at dan heng's arival was on your radar. it was tiring, so tiring, but you couldn't help it.

and you felt guilty. you just wanted to let dan heng live his life without having to consider you all the time. sure, he told you so many times that it was okay, that he chose to console you as anxiety struck, that you could text him whenever you needed him. but you refused; you didn't want to bother him. that would only drive him away eventually, right?

so you suffered alone.

your heart was beating frantically, following the cadance of your unsteady thoughts. it was pointless, it was useless, you were useless, you told yourself. couldn't even stand an hour without your beloved. what kind of toxic partner were you? it was certain, he was going to leave you sooner or later, just because you were a failure who could do nothing. everyone left, so why wouldn't he do the same?

tears of distress welled up in your eyes, and your breath stuttered. you felt truly alone, as if he had abandoned you already. maybe he really did, seeing how he left the express two hours ago. yet, you still refused to text him, despite the many times dan heng told you to reach out if you needed him.

you just couldn't burden him like that.

it felt like ages when the compartment's door slipped open, and footsteps came inside. you gazed up and found dan heng approaching you, and you swore you felt your heart levitate in your chest for a moment. relief washed over you and you wanted to jump up and hug the life out of your boyfriend. he was back!

it must've been obvious that you had been crying, as a look of worry ghosted over dan heng's features. his quiet grey eyes looked right through you, and he instantly knew what was up.

"y/n, i told you to text me if this happened," he lightly scolded you, pulling you to your feet and engulfing you in a tight hug.

"don't wanna bother you," you mumbled against the fabric of his clothes. "i don't want you to feel trapped just because i have separation anxiety."

"we've been over this, angel," dan heng sighed, his puff of breath rustling your hair. "you're too hard on yourself. you're not bothering me at all. i love you on good days and bad days alike, and as we enjoy your good days, i want to help you on your bad days. never forget that, love."

you breathed in his scent, relishing in the comfort it brought to you. he was with you again, he didn't leave, and he still loved you. with your voice still muffled by the fabric, you told him you loved him too, as you slowly felt the fear that had your body rigid diminishing. darkness slipped from your mind as dan heng held you closely, until all was good again.

"listen, angel," dan heng began, loosening the hug to cup your cheeks instead. he made you look at him, and his gaze was solemn. "i won't leave you. not today, not tomorrow, not ever in my life. and i will remind you every day. got that?"

you nodded, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. dan heng was right; you've been through so much together, he saw you on your darkest days, and he was still with you. if only you would remember that as anxiety rose, but such was wistful thinking. once you were alone again, the cycle would repeat itself, and you'd be terrified once more, as if the reassurance of today never happened.

fear of abandonment was painful, it tore you apart so often, writhing in your mind like a sick disease. but you had gotten lucky to find a patient lover, one who treated you right and never grew tired of reassuring you – as much as you needed.

it was true.

dan heng wouldn't leave you.

you smiled at him, and he offered you a faint smile in return. you knew he wouldn't move from your side today, and you leaned against him lovingly. another episode had passed, peace had returned.

it was okay.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #dan heng #— enyo writes #honkai: star rail #dan heng x reader #dan heng imagine #dan heng imagines #dan heng il #dan heng x you #dan heng hsr #hsr dan heng #fear of abandonment #separation anxiety

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desperate-daydream · 7 months

Note

can I request Seth Clearwater x male reader

where male reader is Bella younger brother Seth age but he phases and becomes a shifter and nobody knows how or why Seth and male reader imprint on each other and just being cute and wholesome with each other but Jacob is giving male reader a hard time saying thing like Bella should have been to phase and if did she imprint on me and ECT but Seth put stop to that put Jacob in his place after he make male reader cry

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male (shifter) reader ⚣︎

A/N: thanks for the request and sorry for the long wait, I had a terrible writers block until today and then I just wrote the whole thing in one go XD, and I know ugh, self promo but I have a twilight story on Ao3 with the main being Bella’s twin and Jake imprinting on him (maybe some of you will like that too even if it’s not that similar to this story) (that’s also why it felt so weird to write Jake so mean XD I basically just finished a chapter from that story before writing this one, but I hope you like it)

tags/warnings: set in eclipse (aka the movie where Jake is kinda toxic), Jake is mean and has some issues, reader is Bella’s younger brother, also I wanted Bella to be a good sister, reader is a shifter and imprints on Seth

here‘s the link to the story on my Ao3:

so that’s what imprinting feels like

“What happened?!”, Bella came jumping out of her car. Jacob had called her as soon as possible when Paul and Embry had found you in the middle of the forest. You had been scared - not just because there had been two giant wolves in front of you but also because you had just shifted into one too. They had managed to calm you down enough until Sam arrived. He had brought spare clothes from one of their “emergency supplies” that you put on after shifting back. Then they guided you to Jacob’s place. They had thought it would be the best idea since you had technically also grown up together with Bella although now you didn’t really have anything to do with each other anymore. And he was able to call Bella who had rushed over as fast as possible when she had processed what Jake told her. While waiting the other four wolves had already told you the essentialities of being a shifter and basically destroyed your whole world-perception.

As nice and caring as he had always been, Billy stayed by your side. You had gained a better relationship to Jacob’s dad than to Jacob himself. Especially since you still spent a little bit more time with your dad and therefore also Billy - even if it was just watching a game in your living room.

Bella came straight to you, only sparring Jake a sideways glance as she was too focused on you.

“Hey”, her voice was quiet and soft, “oh god, you’re shivering.” She placed her arms around you and pulled you closer. You hadn’t even noticed it until she said it.

“Just a bit much right now.”

“I know. Let’s go home so you can rest a little, mh?” You nodded.

“Wait, we still have so much to do now”, Jake said persistently, “You have to tell Charlie too. And what if he shifts again and hurts you?”

Bella now turned completely to him. “You can still do all of this tomorrow. He needs to sleep right now.”

Jake wanted to start again: “But what if-”

“Jake, let it be for now.”

That’s all she said before getting up with you and walking to her truck together.

“How did this happen?”, she asked on the drive home.

“I don’t know.” You put up your legs and put your arms around them even though you felt way too warm.

“I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to take a walk because it usually helps but then.. I don’t know.”

You big sister sighed and looked at you shortly before focusing back on the road. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. It’s getting late and you seem tired.”

You only nodded while your eyelids already dropped.

When you arrived you walked straight to your room and the moment your head touched your pillow you were gone.

—

“We’ll do it step for step”, you stood next to Sam who would teach you today how to control your shifting so you would hopefully not hurt anybody around you or yourself - not to mention keeping the secret of the pack.

What he didn’t tell you then was that they’ve had a discussion just yesterday after Bella had picked you up whether or not they should officially include you in the pack since you were a new and special case. In the end they came to the conclusion that you would need and deserve the help and guide the others could give you. He also didn’t tell you that Jacob seemed a bit too disapproving of this new situation and that he guessed it had something to do with the thoughts he had heard from him that were once again centered on none other than your own sister.

“Okay”, you nodded; also to convince yourself that everything would be okay.

“Also, you’re not the only young member, don’t worry. Seth Clearwater, he is your age and has also shifted. You will meet him later at the fire.”

You had already agreed to come when he and Billy had invited you and Bella to come. Bella had added another dimension to this whole situation when she had told you about the Cullens and the vampire that was going after her. She had calmed you a bit when she reassured that she was as good as always protected by either the vampire family of her boyfriend or the wolves.

For the rest of the day you tried to shift on command and Sam and his fiancée Emily gave you a few tips on how to control your anger.

Then you went to the fire where you saw your sister again who immediately asked you how it worked. You still stood a bit away from the others as you told her about your training when you heard a voice. It was directed at Jake so didn’t turn around until the person came to a halt at Jacob’s side.

“Hey man, I saved you some burgers but if you don’t hurry Paul will-”

The boy stopped in the middle of his sentence when you turned around and your eyes met. Your first thought was: “Holy shit, he’s cute”. Your second one was: “So that’s what imprinting feels like”. And your third was once again: “Holy shit.”

Butterflies started fluttering in your stomach and the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at the boy in front of you with wide eyes who still hadn’t closed his mouth.

To your luck Sam and Emily were still next to you and immediately understood what was happening. Sam suppressed a chuckle and introduced you to each other.

“(Y/N), this is Seth, the boy I told you about today. Seth, this is our newest pack-member, (Y/N).”

You saw his mouth form your name before he stuttered out a “hi”.

You willed your body to move again and said “hi” back just as stuttery.

“Uh-uhm..”, Seth started and was once again saved by Emily. “Why don’t we go to the others already.”

You nodded and then followed the other boy your age closely. What you didn’t notice was the pissed expression that had appeared on Jacob’s face. All of you was focused on Seth.

You sat next to each other and soon the gossip made it’s round so soon after Billy was finished with telling the first legend everyone knew what just happened.

Leah, who Seth had introduced as his older sister, looked at you with narrowed eyes but didn’t do anything else.

Throughout the evening your hands had brushed together a few times which had sparked the fluttering in your stomach everytime. And you had probably inched even closer together after some time too.

It was a bit awkward at first but it didn’t change the fact that you felt comfortable sitting next to him while listening and laughing with the others.

You were sad when saying goodbye but then Seth gave you his number and asked you to meet up tomorrow which you had agreed to almost too enthusiastically to not be embarrassed. It didn’t help that Bella giggled the entire ride home about her baby-brother having a crush.

“Naw, you grow up so fast.”

“Ughhhhhh, please stop.”

Bella laughed while pulling into their driveway: “Never, that’s my job as your sister.”

“You’re horrible”, you said drily while she just continued giggling.

But then she changed the mood quickly. “You decided to tell dad tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.. Billy and Sam are gonna be there too to answer questions. I’m still not the best at wolf-knowledge.”

“Mhm, it’ll be okay, don’t worry too much. If you want I can be there too.”

You nodded and earned yourself a short side-hug from Bella before you went to your rooms.

—

You were close to emotional exhaustion after the conversation with your dad but it had a good outcome. Afterwards Edward picked up Bella and you went to meet up with Seth. Sam and Billy were so nice to take you with them to the Black’s home from where you would go to Seth.

Billy went inside while you waved at him and went to go.

But shortly before you arrived someone came to stand in your way. It was Jacob. And he didn’t seem to want to talk to you in a friendly way.

You still tried to be nice; he was like Bella’s best friend so you really didn’t want to make him dislike you more than he apparently already did.

“Why?!”

You were perplexed when he almost spat it at you. You also didn’t have a chance to respond; he just continued talking.

“Why was it YOU?! Why did YOU shift?! It should’ve been Bella if anyone else were to shift at all! But no! It was YOU! If it had been Bella then she could imprint on me! But it was you! It doesn’t even make sense! Why would nature want YOU to be one of us?! You’re unable to do anything! You’re weak! And now you’re just supposed to protect others?! To protect Bella?! Hah!”

His accusations that in the end didn’t even really make sense but still hurt carried on. You didn’t actually hear anymore what he said. You were about to cry and just wanted to coil into yourself but at the same time you had to suppress the anger rising in you. Your whole body shook from the exhausting try to hold yourself together. A few tears escaped your eyes and Jacob was still not done, probably just repeating himself by now but that didn’t change the fact that he was more than angry.

“Jacob! Stop!”, before you could register anything else a person appeared between you and the other. You felt relief wash over you immediately when you saw that it was Seth.

“How dare you scream at him like that! Accusing him of being the source of your stupid self-centered problems! How dare you make him cry! Don’t you ever even come too close to him again!”

Jake seemed to want to say something more but Seth turned to you, took your hand into his and gently pulled you with him. You only noticed that you were still shaking when Seth stopped after arriving at a clearing and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing and Seth pulled you closer while you clutched his shirt in your hands.

After you calmed down you whispered a “thank you” against his neck where you had hid your face.

“Of course”, he whispered back, “nobody is allowed to talk to or about you like that. Nobody." His arms tightened around you again and you felt his face hide in your neck this time. You smiled when you noticed him taking a deep whiff of your scent and then place a kiss there.

#seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater #seth clearwater x male reader #x male reader #male reader #twilight #gay #mlm

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devilat-thedoor · 9 months

Text

Hands to Yourself Pt8

ok bbys🤍

I tried to make this as medically accurate as possible, so if there’s any mistakes as far as that goes, please forgive me? I don’t think this one is my best work, but I hope you all still enjoy it. Thank you for the love and support you’ve been pouring in thus far, it means the world💖💖 btw, special credit to @gvfpal for a particularly heartbreaking scene🥺

Part 7

Word Count: 10.5k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ as always, Minors DNI. TW!! Trauma/Injuries/Mentions of death.

Jake POV

“Odessa, can you just- I need you to tell me what happened.” You tried to keep yourself calm despite the rising pace of your heart rate. The nurses and doctors wouldn’t let you be with her. You begged and pleaded to just see her, if only for confirmation that she was still alive, still breathing like they said she was, but with no luck, you searched for anything to occupy your mind.

Odessa looked up from the hard plastic chair she was sitting in and wiped her teary eyes. “It all happened too fast, Jake. I-”

“From the beginning.” You cut her off. All you wanted was an understanding of how this happened. “She was supposed to be at your house. Why was she driving in the city? How did Sage even know where she would be?” You watched as she tried to collect herself, taking a few breaths before she could speak.

She dug her hands into her eyes as she started a play by play, “We were just looking for a movie to watch and talking about her ring, the proposal. I asked why you guys left the bar in such a rush and s-she showed me the text from Sage and…” She paused, stuttering through her words, “Y/N just wanted a chance to talk to her, face to face, so I asked Sage to come over and I was gonna have her t-take a pregnancy test. Then Y/N…she- well I-” Odessa pushed her hands into her hair, attempting to stifle her sobs. You knew she was having a hard time.

You took a seat beside her, rubbing your hand down her back, “Dess, I’m sure this has gotta be hard for you, but whatever you’re feeling… just know that I’m feeling it a million times worse. I need to know how this happened. Just take your time, take a few breaths and tell me. Please.” She nodded as tears continued to slide her puffy cheeks.

After a minute or so, she was composed enough to continue, “I asked her if she was pregnant, it was just as a joke, but then she kind of freaked out…”

“Wha- wait, why did she freak out?”

Odessa gave you a sympathetic look, “She was scared at how you’d react… Scared that you wouldn’t want her anymore.” You looked away from her, you’re conversation with Y/N from earlier coming back. Had you really reacted so terribly that she was afraid to even bring up the possibility to you? She kept speaking, unaware of your internal turmoil. “I had her take a test and then Sage showed up and it just turned into a blowout. Y/N showed her the positive test and she- Jake, she’s so obsessed with you that she refused to believe it, said it was probably Sam’s…Things got a little physical and then Sage left and everything calmed down after a bit.”

You stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to finish but she was looking around as if she was putting pieces together. “Okay, but then Y/N left? Why did she leave?” It didn’t make sense. If she was on her way home, she wouldn’t have been that far into the city.

“Uhh…” Odessa shook her head as though she was trying to wrangle a herd of scrambled thoughts. “She went to get her phone to see if you’d called but when she came back downstairs… She was panicky? I came out of the kitchen and she was rushing to put her shoes on to leave, said that the garage was on fire and she had to get down there…” She turned to face you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “Now that I think about it… Jake, I drove by the garage on my way here and there was no sign of a fire. No fire trucks or police. Not even a remnant of smoke.”

As you soaked in what she was saying, the realization hit you. This girl was even more diabolical than you thought. Sage knew Y/N was pregnant. Whether she believed it or not, she knew. “Sage fucking set it all up. She’s been stalking her, she knew exactly how to lure Y/N to the garage and the exact route she was gonna take to get there…”

Odessa was finishing your thought before you could, “She wanted her out of the picture… both of them.” She stood up and began rushing away from the area, “I’m gonna be sick…” Danny got up and went after her. You watched them disappear down the hallway before a woman was coming up to you.

______________________________________________________

*beep…beep…beep…beep…beep*

The steady blips echoed inside of your head, bouncing around in the fogginess of your consciousness. Wake up. You tried to force your eyes to open, but they felt too heavy. Everything was too heavy. Your body felt like it was weighed down by some invisible force. Were you sleeping? You had to be. Open your eyes. It was almost like you were dreaming but there were no vivid pictures or scenes that you could see, just darkness. What happened? Other sounds began to rise over the beeping but you couldn’t pinpoint what they were. You focused harder through the clouding in your brain. The blips. An EKG? A heart monitor? The air held a vaguely recognizable scent. Sterile, like industrial cleaner and antibacterial hand soap. Am I in the hospital? There were voices surrounding you. You didn’t recognize them, but you tried to listen, only picking up bits and pieces.

“The impact caused… medically induced… matter of patience…”

You can hear him. Jake. He sounds so far away yet so close. “A coma? How long…”

“….Until she’s stable enough… “

It was quiet, only the rhythmic beeps remaining. You were left alone. At least you thought… But then you felt his hand, trembling, but warm and familiar, grasping onto yours. “Baby, I need you to come back to me.” You willed your eyes to open again. I’m here, Jake. I’m with you. You could hear him crying as you screamed at yourself to just wake up. “Please, God. Don’t let it end like this. I need her.” He wasn’t speaking to you anymore. “You leave her alone, I’ll do anything. Just let them stay with me… Please…It’s not her time.” He was praying. I’m not leaving. I’m right here… You tried to squeeze his hand, even just the tiniest bit, to prove it to him, but you remained motionless. It all came back in a frenzy, flashing in freeze frames in your mind. Odessa’s bathroom, the pregnancy test… Sage in the kitchen… The headlights and the intense, shooting pain right before it all went black. A collision. That’s how you ended up in the hospital. But the baby. Was the baby still in there? Is it safe? Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP. The blips were becoming more frequent, speeding up their tempo. It felt like you were in an endless skyfall, plummeting into an abyss. Jake was yelling, he sounded panicked. “Something’s wrong! Somebody help her!”

Another voice, “She’s going into v tach.” Jake was still frantic, but his voice was drifting further away. “Sir, I need you to wait outside, you can’t be in here..”

A woman, “Pushing beta blockers…”

There were more voices, but as your body went calm, so did your consciousness as the bleak darkness swallowed you up.

__________________________________________________

Jake POV

Eight minutes. Eight fucking minutes. That was all you got with her before the jagged line that simulated her heart lit up, bouncing around in a berserk fashion. A man was pushing you out of the room, while a woman fed things into her I.V. You tried to fight your way back in, to just hold onto her hand a little longer, but it was no use. You were forced to stand there, watching as they frantically moved around her bed, shouting terms that you didn’t understand. And then they were rolling her out, down the hallway and away from you.

A doctor, the one handling her care, allowed you into her room to see her while he explained the condition she was in. “We ordered an MRI the minute the EMTs brought her in and it did reveal some swelling in the brain. Now, we’ve caught it early enough that we should be able to resolve it without surgery.” You tried to focus on what he was saying but as his lips moved, your eyes stayed trained on her. Laying limp in the bed, wires filtering out of the thin blue hospital gown she was draped in. Of the small bit of her skin that was visible, you could see deep purple bruises and drying blood littering it. She had a few small cuts on her face that you could only assume was from the glass shattering out of the window. “Ms. Y/L/N did suffer a minor fracture to her left arm. We reset the bone and we’ll apply a cast once the swelling is reduced.” He took a second to look down at the tablet in his hand, “There is also a break to her clavicle and a few broken ribs. It’s not ideal, but they don’t require surgery either. The better news is, we don’t believe the impact caused any internal bleeding, we’re not seeing signs of that.” He paused and you finally gave him your full attention as he cleared his throat, “We have placed her in a medically induced coma.” He held his hand up to stop the questions that were about to pour from your mouth. “I know how scary that sounds, but it’s for her own good. Her body will be working overtime to heal itself and it could damage her brain in the process. Keeping her comatose will ensure that doesn’t happen and allow the swelling to go down without a problem. It’s all just a matter of patience, I assure you.”

“You’re forcing her into a coma?” You were shaking your head, unable to wrap your mind around anything. “Wha- How long will she have to stay like that?”

The doctor glanced at her before turning back to you, “It’s unpredictable right now, Mr. Kiszka. We’re going to keep a close eye on her and the edema, but until she’s stable enough, this is the safest option.” He was scanning through his tablet again for a moment, “There is the matter of her pregnancy…”

The baby. Your eyes went wide with panic, “Is it- Did- She didn’t lose-“ Dread consumed you at the worst possibility.

His voice was calm but hesitant as he spoke, “I can assure you, both mom and baby are safe… There is a small risk to the pregnancy with her being comatose, but we will do everything we can to make sure they’re both taken care of.” He dropped his tablet to his side and placed a hand on your shoulder, “A nurse will be in to clean her up in a few minutes. You can stay with her as long as you want. Try talking to her, holding her hand… It’s been proven to bring physical and psychological comfort for patients in a coma and that could be extremely helpful for her healing process.” You watched him leave her room without another word.

Taking his advice, you pulled a chair up to her bed and sat down, grasping her limp hand and speaking to her. You prayed to God for her to come back to you and then you were dragged from the room. Now you were in the waiting area, unable to stand still, unable to form a single thought that didn’t revolve around her. Was she okay? Where did they take her? Nobody was telling you anything, you felt like you were going mad.

“Jake, sit down.” Your little brother had his hand on you, “The pacing isn’t helping anything, man.”

Your head dropped into your hands as he pushed you into an uncomfortable waiting room chair. “I feel like I- I c-can’t br-breathe.” The air was too thick, every choppy inhale felt like sticky tar coating your lungs.

“I think you might be having a panic attack.” Sam sat beside you, rubbing his hand across your back. “Talk to me. What happened, Jake? Is she okay?” He tried to keep his tone even, but you could hear how his voice shook.

“I don’t know.” Your hands slid into your hair, pulling at the strands. “She just started- or- I don’t- They made me leave and th- they wheeled h- her bed out…” This was all so wrong, she doesn’t deserve this.

“She’s gonna be alright, brother.” Danny was holding Odessa against his chest while she cried softly into his shirt. “It’s Y/N. She’s strong, she’ll pull through.” He was trying to be comforting, as usual, but you couldn’t take it anymore, the empty promises that she would be fine. She wasn’t fine. None of this was alright.

“She shouldn’t have to fucking pull through! This shouldn’t-“ You stood up, clenching your fists at your sides. “She should be at home, in our bed. Safe… Not fighting for her life in a fucking hospital bed because of some goddamn psychopath!” Turning back to Danny, you directed your attention at his girlfriend. “Did you know, Odessa?”

She pulled away from Danny to look at you, “Know what?” She sniffled, wiping at her nose.

The anger was bubbling out of you and you let it all loose on her, “Sage is your best friend. You brought her into our lives, introduced her to us.” Your voice was growing louder, “You can’t tell me that you didn’t know what kind of fucking person she was. You knew. You fucking knew and you still let her in…” Her eyes were wide with horror as you dropped your tone to a whisper, gritting your teeth, “Y/N being here…stuck in a fucking coma… This is just as much your fault as it is Sage’s.”

“Jake, cut it the fuck out!” Danny yelled at you now, “We all get that you’re scared and hurting and we might not understand exactly how you’re feeling, but Y/N is important to all of us.” You stared at him, your gaze flicking to Odessa who was now shaking with violent sobs as he held her. “Every one of us is here for her. For you. Don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong, you know who’s responsible for this.” The drummer turned and walked away with his girlfriend before you could say anything.

You wanted to hit your head against a wall for how you’d just acted. Odessa didn’t deserve that and you didn’t mean it, but the weight on your chest was crushing and it felt like the only way to ease the pressure was to release your anxiety. Unfortunately, it came in the form of unkempt rage that you’d unleashed upon Danny’s poor girlfriend. Everything felt like it was imploding and you bent over, placing your hands on your knees, trying to catch a breath.

Josh was coming down the hallway, giving you a look that said he knew you were about to have a meltdown, “I left her brother a voicemail, let him know what’s going on.” He draped his arm around your back, “Come take a walk with me, let’s get some air.” He attempted to pull you away from the waiting area, but you yanked yourself from his hold. “Jake, you need to calm down and take a few minutes… We’ll just go outside and get some fresh air for a bit or we can go down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee.” His hand curled around your wrist but you pried it away.

“I wish people would stop telling me to fucking calm down. None of you get it!” They may have all been scared too, but there was no possible way they could even begin to imagine how hard this was for you. “I’m not leaving. I’m gonna stay planted, right in this fucking waiting room, until somebody tells me that she’s okay…and then I’m gonna be by her side until she wakes up.” Josh opened his mouth to argue, but you stopped him. “If you want to get some air, then go Josh. Take everybody with you, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not going anywhere. Her doctor could come out at any second.” As if on cue, you heard your name being spoken. You turned around, hoping it was the doctor, but you were met by a nurse. The one that came into her room to clean the blood from her body before she was taken away. The woman had a clear plastic bag in her hand and you could see the torn, bloody clothing inside of it.

She held it out to you, “Mr. Kiszka, you are Ms. Y/L/N’s next of kin, correct?”

Your eyes went from her face to the clear bag in her hands as you reached out to take it, “What is this? Why are you giving me this?” You watched as she held up something else, a small, sealed baggie with a large orange label on it. Biohazard. A slight glare caught on the fluorescent lights when you took it from her. “No…” You fought back the bile rising in your throat, looking down at the teardrop diamond in the tiny bag, smeared with deep red streaks. Your mind went to the worst. Why would they give you her things, unless… “This isn’t… She’s not-.” Josh was beside you, taking the bag of her clothing from the nurse while you stood, frozen, staring at the ring. “Please tell me she’s not…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence as the tears started pooling in your eyes.

The nurse stopped you with a sympathetic look, “She’s not, honey.” Her hand wrapped around your arm, giving a gentle squeeze. “She’s in surgery now, the doctor will be out to talk with you as soon as he’s finished up.” She pulled her hand back before offering a small explanation, “We just figured her things would be safer with family, rather than strewn about her room.”

“Surgery? But she was…” He told you that she didn’t need surgery. Was her condition worse than they thought? Did they miss something? You looked up at her before she could turn to leave, “What happened? They said-”

“After the V tach scare, they ordered a CT scan to make sure they didn’t miss anything…” She paused for a moment, taking a breath, “Mr. Kiszka, her doctor will be out to brief you as soon as possible.”

“But th-“

She cut you off before you could speak, “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Kiszka. That’s all I know right now.”

You stared blankly as she walked off before your eyes fell back to the small bag in your left hand. “Alright, let’s sit down, Jakey.” Josh’s voice broke through, pulling you out of your head, “I’ll send Sammy for some coffee while we wait for the doctor.” He shuffled you back into a chair while he leaned in to talk to your little brother. In a moment, Sam was up and walking towards the elevators and you were left alone with your twin, the engagement ring and the looming feeling that bad news was on its way.

____________________________________________________

Hospitals always made the concept of time weird. You could be sitting in a stiff chair for hours and it would feel like seconds, but minutes could feel like days. You refused to look at the clock because it only made your nerves worse. When the nurse came out to give you her things, it was just after midnight. The last time you checked the clock, it was 1:36am and you still hadn’t heard anything about her or the surgery she was receiving. You didn’t even know what the surgery was for. Nobody would tell you anything despite your desperate attempts to pry for information. Every minute that ticked by only made your anxiety grow. You looked around at your family, all of them still here with you, waiting for a shred of good news. Josh was still beside you, occasionally reaching over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. As chaotic as he usually was, you could always count on him to be a grounding and comforting presence when it counted. Sammy was across from you, on the other side of the waiting room, chewing on his fingernails. Next to you, he was probably handling this the hardest. He loved her like she was his own blood. They all did, but her and your little brother had a strong bond that, admittedly, you were a little jealous of sometimes. She’d always say, ‘He’s got a special light to him.’ You never knew what she meant by it, but now, the way his glistening eyes would meet yours every so often and he’d give a soft, compassionate tilt to his mouth, you understood her perfectly. Your eyes drifted to Danny and Odessa. Her small frame stretched across the vinyl loveseat with her head resting on your chosen brother’s lap. He ran his fingers over her hair while she slept. Guilt crept over you at how you’d spoken to her. How you accused her of having anything to do with this. Y/N would tear you apart if she’d have heard how awful you were. You could almost hear her scolding you, ‘Jacob Thomas, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re being a dickhead.’ Picturing her standing in front of you with her hands on her hips and her left eyebrow raised, it made you chuckle quietly to yourself. Danny caught your gaze, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you opened your mouth, ready to spill an apology, but he just shook his head and mouthed at you, ‘It’s okay.’ You knew it wasn’t okay, not even close, but you made a mental note to give Dess a full apology when she was awake. Turning to your twin, you tapped his leg, “I’m gonna stretch my legs. Be right back.”

As you stood up, Josh followed, “You want me to come with you?” Before you could open your mouth to turn him down, you were interrupted.

“We’re looking for a Jacob Kiszka.” You all turned in unison to find two men, in suits, standing behind you. Glancing back at your brothers, they were all alert. Sam came to stand with you and Josh, and Danny was shaking Odessa awake.

“Uh. Jake.” Stepping forward, you held your hand out as a formality, unsure of what was about to unfold.

One of the men grasped your trembling hand in a firm shake, “Mr. Kiszka, I’m Detective Walsh, this is Detective Dawson.” He nodded towards the other man before pulling his hand away and opening up a notepad. “I first wanna say, we’re very sorry for what you’re dealing with right now. We don’t want to cause any more stress to you or your family in a time like this, but we received a call from a nurse, Mrs. Alvez.” He paused, reading over his page of notes, “She says that you were making a pretty serious accusation about the car accident that your girlfriend was involved in.”

“She’s my fiancee…” You corrected him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “And it’s not an accusation, it’s the truth. Sage did this.”

Det. Walsh held his hand up, “I meant no offense, son. I just need you to understand how consequential this claim could be if it is the truth. Mr. Kiszka, this woman could be facing an attempted murder charge and…” He was hesitant on what he wanted to say next, but the other man, Det. Dawson finished his thought.

“If things go south, she’ll be looking at involuntary manslaughter or, worst case, first degree.” He scratched his chin and you couldn’t help but feel his lack of compassion. “Now, Mr. Kiszka, you’re going to have to fill us in here because right now, it’s just a big ol’ ‘He said/She said.’ What makes you think the collision was on purpose?”

The look of disgust on your face must have been evident, “Worst case? Are you fucking kidding me? What th-” Your mouth hung on the last syllable as you looked behind Dawson to see her doctor coming towards you, pulling a mask from his face. You stepped around the detectives to meet the doctor, questions pouring from your mouth before you could process them. “Is she okay? I want to see her. Why did she need surgery? You said that she-”

“She’s alright, Mr. Kiszka. We have her stabilized… We took her for a CT scan and it showed that her spleen had been punctured by one of the broken ribs.” He took a few seconds to let you process the information before continuing, “We were able to get in and repair the spleen using electrocauterization. The procedure was quick, we didn’t face any complica-”

“It went quick? I’ve been waiting for hours to hear something. Where is she?” You tried to move past him, but he grabbed your shoulder, stopping you.

He waited for you to face him again, “We needed to keep a close watch on her to make sure that there was no more damage. I do have good news for you, Mr. Kiszka… The edema was a lot more mild than we had initially thought and the swelling has already decreased substantially.” Your brows were drawn together, trying to understand what he was saying. He simplified the best he could, “There’s no longer a need to keep her in the induced coma.” His lips lifted into a small smile, “Once the anesthesia wears off, it won’t be long before she wakes up and I’m sure she would love to have you there when she does.”

“I can see- She’s gonna wake up? I- Can I go to her now?” Your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“Yes, I’ll take you to her room. Now, I will warn you, when she does wake up, there might be some confusion… Things are going to be foggy for her, but it’s important not to overload her with a ton of details at once. She’s not completely out of the woods yet. She’s got a long healing process ahead of her and it’s best for her and the baby to keep stress at a minimum.”

You were nodding fast, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do anything. I just- Can I-”

The doctor let out a quiet chuckle, “Come on.” He turned around to walk you to her room but as you went to follow him, a hand stopped you.

You turned to see Det. Dawson, gripping your arm. “We’re not finished yet, Mr. Kiszka.” Pulling yourself from his grasp, you were ready to raise hell, but the other detective stopped you.

Det. Walsh pulled the other man behind him and met you with an empathetic look, “Go ahead and see your girl, son. We’ll talk later.” As you fell into step behind the doctor, you could hear him scolding his partner. “Give the kid a break, Dawson. He almost lost his pregnant girlfriend, you asshole.”

When you entered her room, you stopped inside the doorway. A woman was standing over her, wiping at the cuts on her face. She looked up with a polite smile on her face, “Oh. Dr. Brooks, I was just finishing up with some more antiseptic. I will be out of your hair in just a second.” She went back to her task and you waited patiently until she was done.

Once the woman stepped out of the room, Dr. Brooks took a moment to look over her vitals before he exited too, leaving you alone with her. You pulled a chair up to her bed, your whole body shaking at the memory of the last time you were here, just hours ago. She looked like she was in a peaceful slumber, a hard contrast from how lifeless she looked before. Reaching up, you brushed the tangled hair from her face, letting your thumb graze over one of the shallow scrapes on her cheek as you whispered to her. “Hey, pretty girl… You really had me scared for a while there.” You pulled your hand away to wipe the single tear that fell from your eye and grasped her hand. “Wake up, my love. I just need to hear your voice. I need you to tell me that you love me and that you’re never gonna try to leave me again.” You brought her hand to your lips, pressing them to her knuckles. You kept talking to her, willing her to wake up, for what felt like hours until you finally leaned back, falling asleep in the chair while your fingers stayed laced with hers.

___________________________________________________

Her POV

Your eyes opened briefly before drooping closed again. You tried to bring your hand up to rub away the sleep that laid heavy on your lids, but something was weighing on it. As you made a move to sit up, you were met with a stabbing pain in your left side. You dropped back into the pillow with a hiss as your eyes shot open. You glanced around, trying to get a feel for your surroundings when your ears picked up on the familiar blips. Hospital. You looked down at your hand, still stuck against the bed as something laid over it. “Jake?” Your voice croaked out through your dry throat. His even breaths gave away the fact that he was sleeping, using your right hand as a pillow. Your attention went to your left arm, nestled snug inside of a sling. Every small movement was coupled with an almost unbearable amount of pain. Quiet whimpers fell from your mouth as you attempted to pull your hand free again and this time it woke Jake.

He lifted his head and turned to face you, running his hands over his face. When his eyes found you yours, he stood up abruptly and leaned over you. “Baby… You’re awake, you’re actually…” He trailed off and dropped to hug you but when you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing from the pain, he took his hands off of you. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t-“

Finally able to lift your right hand, riddled with pins and needles, you held it up to silence him, “You didn’t hurt me, Jake.” It was a lie, but the terrified look on his face made your heart ache and you couldn’t bring yourself to be completely honest. “There is a good bit of pain though…What happened?” You tried to sit up again but he stopped you.

Jake had his hand on your shoulder, “Take it easy, love. Here.” He knelt down to the panel that controlled the bed positions and clicked the button that raised the top of the bed.

“S-stop. Jake, stop.” Your face was twisted into a grimace, “It hurts, I- Please, I can’t.” Tears were dripping down your face as you gripped your side. Each breath felt like somebody was piercing your lungs with a branding iron. He straightened back up and reached to hit the call button for a nurse. His hands were shaking hard, like he was scared, and the expression on his face was showing the same emotion. You grabbed his hand before he could pull it away from the bed and brought it up to your face, pressing a single kiss to his palm. He moved his hand to cup your cheek with the gentlest touch, wiping away your stream of tears. His own eyes were shining and you placed your hand over his, “Baby, what happened? Why am I here?” His lip trembled but as he opened his mouth, two people were coming into the room.

Jake turned away from you to greet them, “Dr. Brooks, she just woke up but she’s in a lot of pain.” You watched as a woman, your nurse, stepped around the bed to your I.V. stand.

“That’s to be expected, Mr. Kiszka.” He patted Jake’s shoulder and moved past him to stand beside the nurse. “We’re gonna give you something for the pain now, you should feel better in a few minutes.” The woman connected a syringe to the access port on the I.V. tubing and began feeding the liquid through it. “Ms. Y/L/N, we haven’t officially met,” The doctor held his hand out to you, “But, I’m Dr. Brooks. Me and my team have been working really hard to make sure Mr. Kiszka would be able to take you home in one piece.” You slid your hand into his as he nodded towards Jake.

There was a dull throbbing in the back of your head and your mouth was too dry, “Can I have some water, please?” The nurse looked up, giving you a kind smile and left the room, only to return a few seconds later with a small cup and a plastic pitcher. She poured a bit into the cup and offered it to you and you wasted no time in gulping it all down. Jake took the cup from you and grasped your hand again. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Your gaze went from your boyfriend to Dr. Brooks, pleading for an explanation.

The two men shared a look before your doctor spoke up, “You were in a car accident, Ms. Y/L/N. EMTs brought you into the emergency room last night and you were in pretty rough shape.” You listened intently as he ran down, what felt like, a never ending list of injuries and complications and procedures. “Can you remember anything at all?” His brows were pinched as he studied you. “Take your time, I’m just going to look you over.”

Your doctor was maneuvering around your thin gown, lifting it to get a glimpse at how you were healing. You thought back, trying to pull the last memory that you could recover while he continued to examine each bruise and stitch, one by one. As pieces started to fall into place, you retracted your hand from Jake’s with a gasp and flattened it across your belly, “Jake, I-” Panic began to consume you as you remembered the night prior at Odessa’s. The positive test. Did Jake know? Were you still even pregnant? You couldn’t bring yourself to ask that question out of fear at what the answer might be.

“Hey… Look at me.” Jake’s voice was soft, but you were startled by his hand sliding over yours and resting on your stomach. When your eyes traveled up to his face, you were met with the warmest smile he’d even given you. “You’re okay. Both of you.” He knew. Your eyes widened and he gave a gentle nod, lacing his fingers between your own, “My loves.”

You bit down on your lip to keep it from shaking but you couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over your lashes. Dr. Brooks cleared his throat as he put your gown back in place and took a step away from you. “Everything is looking good. I’ll give you two some time, but I will back in a bit to get a cast on this arm.” He pointed to the sling before making a move to leave, stopping in the doorway to turn back to you, “I’m sure your family is eager to visit with you, but keep the excitement to a minimum. It’s very important that you get your rest.”

Jake broke away from you to shake the man’s hand, “Thank you so much, Dr. Brooks. For everything.” The doctor extended his own hand, giving a firm squeeze, and then he was gone. Jake was back at your side in a blink, wiping at your wet cheeks. “Baby, don’t cry.” He carefully sat on the edge of your bed.

Short bursts of memory flashed through your mind, some more vague than others, but some extremely vivid. “Jake, I heard you…” He gave you a questioning look. “You were praying… Asking God to let me stay. To let us stay.” You reached up to brush his hair away from his face, “I thought you would be so mad.”

“Y/N, when Odessa called me about the accident and then told me about- That you were pregnant…” He hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to say, “I know what I said before, but the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach at what could’ve happened, how badly this could’ve turned out… Love, I didn’t expect the relief I got when the doctor told me that you were both safe and now all I can think about is the future. Our future.”

A smile cracked across your face, “I love you, Jacob.” The way his face lit up made your heart swell and you pulled him down by his shirt. Once he was close enough, your hand went to the back of his neck, guiding his lips to yours.

When he pulled back, just a few inches from your face, his eyes were still closed but his brows were creased. “I’ve been waiting forever to hear you say that… I almost thought I’d never hear it again.”

Pushing his hair behind his ear, you cupped his cheek, “Baby, I-.” You were cut off by a few taps on the door, both of you looking in that direction at the same time.

“Jake, we brought you some coff-.” Sammy’s mouth hung open as he and Josh came into the room. “She’s- You’re awake.” You giggled at his observation.

Josh was closing the distance to you, moving across the room at hyper speed, “Ahh, Y/N, as beautiful as ever!” Jake stood from the bed, giving his twin the space to hug you while mumbling a warning to be careful. “It’s so good to see you awake, mama.” His lips curled into his famous, beaming grin as he poked at your lower belly, “I guess that takes on a pretty literal meaning now, huh?”

You swatted his hand away, unable to hold back your smile. “Yeah, I guesso…” You cupped your hand around your mouth, whispering loud enough for him and Jake to both hear, “Don’t worry, Joshy. We’ll definitely name it after you.” You shot him a wink.

“Yeah, over my dead body.” Jake deadpanned, shoving his twin’s shoulder. The two of them began their playful bickering and your eyes flashed to the youngest Kiszka, just a few steps inside of the room, looking at anything but you.

“Sammy?” You waited for him to give you his attention, “I can’t say that I don’t bite, but that’s never made you keep your distance before. C’mere.” Your joke would usually have made him laugh, but he stayed planted and silent. You held your hand out to him, beckoning him to come closer. He was hesitant and you could tell, but he finally started walking towards you. He was picking at his cuticles like he didn’t know what else to do with himself so you reached out and took one of his hands in yours. You looked up at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. You squeezed his hand, forcing him to turn to you, and saw his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Sammy, why are you upset? I’m the one with the broken bones here.” It was your second attempt at getting a laugh out of him, but he remained quiet. “Hey…”

“You almost died, Y/N…” His lip quivered, something very uncharacteristic for him, and it broke your heart.

You sat up fully with a wince. The pain meds had kicked in, leaving you with just a mild cramping where your ribs were fractured. You yanked on Sam’s arm, pulling him down to sit on the bed. “But, I didn’t die, Sammy. You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You smiled again, nudging his shoulder.

“It’s not funny.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “You were gonna leave me to fend for myself with those two idiots.” He gestured to his older brothers who were standing by. There he is. That’s the Sammy you know. But he was gone too soon as he looked back to you, a heavy sadness in his deep brown eyes. “This was really fucking scary, Y/N.”

“Oh, Sammy…” You pulled him into a hug with your only functioning arm, holding him tight, but he didn’t make a move to hug you back. “I’m okay, honey. I’m not going anywhere, promise.” You felt him nod against you as he brought one arm around you, staying far from the left half of your body. “Okay, sappy Sam. You’re gonna make me cry, asshole.” You playfully pushed him away.

He stood up from your bed with a quip, “Ahh. So you do have a heart then?”

Jake stepped in before you could return a smart remark, “Alright, guys. She needs to rest a bit before they come to put her cast on.” His brothers tried to protest but he stood his ground. “You can both come back later or tomorrow. I really appreciate you guys being here, but go home and get some sleep or a shower. I want some time to myself with her.”

Joshy was coming forward to give you a parting hug, “That’s awfully selfish of you. Mom would be disappointed that you aren’t sharing.” He bent down to press a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be back as soon as your guard dog says it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off, Josh.” Jake pulled his twin into a hug before moving to his younger brother and repeating the gesture, “Send Danny and Odessa back for a visit on your way out.”

Sam broke away from the hug, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced at you, “Uhh…They left a couple hours ago… After Dess woke up, she wanted to go. She tried to make Daniel stay, but he- I’m sure they’ll be back.” He was holding something back and you looked to Jake to see his lips pressed in a thin line, staring at the floor. His guilty face.

“Okay.” Josh clasped his hands together, “We’re gonna go…” He patted his little brother on the back and led him out of the room with a final wave goodbye.

After they were gone, you directed your attention to Jake, “What did you do?” He lifted his head to look at you, a shocked expression over his face as he mumbled that he had no idea what you were talking about. “Jacob, you have that look. The one that says ‘oh shit, I fucked up.’ So what did you do?”

“I did fuck up, Y/N…” You waited for him to elaborate but he steered the conversation down another path. “Love, what- Do you remember anything from the accident? Like how you ended up there or who the other driver was?”

You laid back against the bed, scouring your mind for anything you could find. “I can’t- There’s flashes of scenes, but nothing is super clear.”

He came to sit on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on your leg, “You went to watch movies with Odessa and Sage showed up and then-”

“No, I remember all of that. She was acting insane, saying that you wanted to be with her and I was just in the way.” You shook your head as it all started to slowly come back into view. “Dess ripped into her, I’ve never seen her get mad like that. I slapped Sage, she pushed me and then she left.”

“Can you remember anything past that? Anything between being at Odessa’s to waking up here?” Jake was studying your face, waiting for any indication that you knew. “Take your time, baby. If you can’t remember, don’t force it.”

Things were blurry, but you could still vaguely picture it. The phone call about the garage. The fear you felt on your way there, worried about your business being destroyed. “The garage… Jake, the food truck. There was a fire, I was going to the garage. Dess was following me there, she was right behind me. I remember looking in the rearview mirror to see her and then there were other headlights coming at me. Everything is blank after that, but the truck… I need to-”

“The truck is fine, Y/N. There was never a fire.” He was clenching his jaw and you could feel the anger radiating from him, “Sage made it all up. She came up with some crazy scheme to get you downtown. She was the one that hit you, on purpose.” No way she was that crazy to not only inflict harm on you, risk killing you, knowing that you were pregnant, but to also risk her own life? “Odessa was there, love. She saw the whole thing. It was Sage.”

You were at a loss for words. How had things gotten this fucked up? The throbbing in your head was back and you just wanted to go to sleep in the hopes that you would wake up at home, in your bed, next to Jake. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore… I’m tired.” You brought your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Jake’s face softened from the scowl he’d been wearing, “Is the pain back? Is it your head?”

“I’m fine. I think this has just been a lot and I need rest like the doctor said.” You didn’t want to think about Sage or the wreck.

“Okay, I’ll put the bed flat so you can lay down.” He went to stand up but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

You scooted over in your small bed and pulled on his arm, “You too.” He shook his head, arguing that the bed wasn’t big enough and he didn’t want to hurt you. “Jacob, sit down and let me lay my head on you. You don’t even have to touch me, I just want to be near you, please.” You pouted your lip at him and watched as he tried to fight the smile curling his lip. He huffed out a breath and climbed back onto the bed, shuffling up to sit beside you. Once situated, he lifted his arm and let you tuck into him. His hand rested just barely on your shoulder. You could tell he was afraid to cause you any pain or discomfort, but this was the most comfortable you’ve felt all day. Your fingers were on his leg, pulling as the threads of a tear in his jeans. He kissed the top of your head as you leaned against him, slowly dozing off. The last thing you felt before sleep consumed you was his lips in your hair while he whispered that he loved you and his palm, laying gently over your lower tummy.

_______________________________________________________

You awoke to the chattering of voices. Opening your eyes, you were greeted by the fluorescent lights above you. You blinked a few times, forcing your eyes to adjust to the lighting and looked to the window. It was dark outside so you must have slept for a while. The first thing you noticed was the plain white cast on your left arm, the second thing was that Jake was gone. You looked around the room before catching sight of him. He was standing in the hallway, just outside the door, talking with someone out of your view. “Baby?” Your voice was raspy as you called out to him. For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you, but he was stalking into the room in an instant, two men in suits trailing behind him. Once he was at your side, pushing the hair from your forehead, you lifted your left arm, “How did they put this on without me waking up?” He let out a soft chuckle but there was a hint of annoyance in his demeanor. You looked behind him to the men who followed him into your room. “What’s going on?”

One of the men stepped around Jake, offering you his hand, “Ms. Y/LN, I am Detective Walsh, this is my partner, Det. Dawson. We just have a few questions to ask you, if that’s okay?” He had a deep, gravelly voice with a twang just like a cowboy from an old western film. You let him shake your hand and gave a small nod. “Thank you, I really appreciate it, ma’am. Now, we-”

He was cut off by the other man, “We’ve already heard from your boyfriend that this other girl, Sage, she’s been stalking you? If that’s the case, why haven’t you filed a report or gotten a restraining order?” You were taken aback, but Jake was fuming. You could see it in the way he rolled his eyes, flared his nostrils. He was clenching his jaw so hard you were sure his teeth would shatter at any second.

You took his hand in yours and gave him a soft smile, willing him to relax, before turning your attention back to Dawson. “She has been stalking me. I have proof and she admitted it to me before the accident.”

He shook his head with a laugh like he didn’t believe anything you were saying. “You’re gonna have to forgive me, but some things just aren’t adding up. You say she’s a crazy stalker, but this woman tells us that she was in an intimate relationship with the both of you.” You started to speak but he held his hand up, effectively silencing you. “I’m not finished… She is saying that she and Mr. Kiszka here started to grow closer and you didn’t like that very much. You were jealous and now you’re making up these wild stories to ruin her life. So you can see why I’m confused?”

“What is your fucking problem, man?” Jake was in front of him, their faces inches apart. “Sage is a basketcase! Any decent cop would see straight through her fucking lies.” His voice took on a terrifyingly calm tone. “Makes me wonder how you got this job…”

Suddenly Jake was stumbling backwards as the detective shoved his chest, “You’re a cocky little shit, you know that?”

“Dawson, that’s enough! Get the hell out of here, I’ll finish this myself!” Det. Walsh was pushing his partner towards the door, “You’re done here. You can go back and tell the Captain what the hell you just did.” He waited for Dawson to leave the room before turning back to you. “I can’t apologize on his behalf, but I am sorry that you kids just had to endure that with everything that you’re already dealing with.”

Surely this was some wild fever dream you were stuck in. “Did I just witness a real life good cop/bad cop situation?” You huffed in disbelief. “What is that guy’s issue?”

“Well, ma’am, I don’t know that I’d call myself a good cop, but he is a real piece of work.” He dragged his hand down his face, clearly exasperated, and looked at Jake, “I didn’t intend on any of that to happen. We already have multiple witnesses that corroborated your claims and that little redheaded girl gave some pretty specific details when we talked to her, including information on an assault…” He didn’t need to elaborate any further on that, you and Jake both knew what he was talking about.

“If you guys had all of this knowledge already, why was he acting like we were lying? Why are you here right now? You should be putting her in handcuffs.” Jake was pacing, something you’re sure he’d probably spent 20 of the last 36 hours doing.

Walsh took a deep breath, “Look kid, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” He took a couple steps towards Jake, holding his notepad out, “I just need you both to write statements. Recount every single piece of information you can that will help seal this deal.” He turned to you after Jake took the pad, “You said you have proof of her stalking you? If you can get me that proof, that’s even better.”

“I do, it’s on my phone. I’m just not sure where my phone is…” You maneuvered your body to the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the pain as you placed your feet on the ground. “Baby, where’s all my stuff?” Using the I.V. stand for leverage, you pulled yourself up to stand.

Jake was at your side in an instant, “Hey, I have it in my jacket. I’ll get it, just sit back down.” His hand was on your hip as he tried to gently force you back into the bed.

Your legs were a bit shaky and you grabbed onto his shoulder to hold yourself up. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you leaned into him, “Jake, I have to go pee…Can you help me to the bathroom?” He let out a quiet laugh, hooking your good arm over his shoulder, and led you towards the small bathroom in the corner of your room. The detective stepped aside as you passed him and Jake mumbled that he’d get the phone in a minute. Dragging your I.V. stand along, you pushed it inside before breaking away from Jake.

He was hesitant to let go of you, “Are you okay by yourself?”

“I’m using the bathroom, Jacob, not going into war…I’ll be fine.” You flashed him a smile as you closed the door between the two of you. Admittedly, it was a little difficult trying to pull your underwear down with the cast on your left arm limiting your movement. Sitting on the toilet was a task on its own with the sharp pain in your side, but it was even worse standing back up. After flushing the toilet, you shuffled to the sink to wash your hands, careful not to get the cast wet. When you lifted your head to the mirror in front of you, a small gasp left your mouth. Your face was adorned with tiny cuts and a dark purple bruise, high on your left cheekbone. Your finger traced over a cut on your forehead and then one in the center of the bruise, decorated with 3 thin pieces of medical tape. Taking a couple steps backward, you carefully gathered the bottom of your gown, bunching it up and lifting it to view the rest of your body. Your mouth hung open as you saw the bruising over your ribcage, coupled with the few stitches from where they went in to repair your spleen. It started to sink in, how bad this was. How much worse it could’ve been. Your eyes drifted to your belly and you placed your palm over it, as an unwarranted flood of emotions came crashing down on you. The burning tears began to fall, accompanied by choppy sobs as you realized how quickly this could have ended before it really even began. The pregnancy was unexpected and definitely unplanned, but the thought of something taking it all away from you made the sobbing worse. You put your hand over your mouth to mute your cries, not wanting Jake to hear you. After a minute, you had calmed down and dried your face, trying to make it look like you didn’t just have a mental breakdown. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror and moved to exit the bathroom.

When you emerged, Jake was shaking Walsh’s hand. His eyes flicked to you and his face dropped slightly before he returned his attention to the detective. He knew you’d been crying… You took a deep breath to prepare for his concerned inquisition just as Det. Walsh was coming towards you, his hand extended, “Ms. Y/L/N, it’s been a pleasure, despite the circumstances.” You accepted his hand with a polite smile. “We should be able to get an IP address from those messages you two received. If they lead back to her, paired with the statements from your friends and family, it should be more than enough to handle this situation. I’ll leave you to heal up and I’ll be in touch within the next few days.”

“Thank you for this…These past few weeks have been a nightmare and I just want to put it all behind us.” He released your hand and with a final nod to Jake, he was gone.

“What’s wrong?” You turned your back to Jake and shuffled back to your bed, refusing to answer his question. “Why were you crying?” He grabbed your arm, stepping in front of you with concern etched over his face. “Is the pain getting worse?”

You shook your head and forced a smile, “It’s nothing, baby. I wasn’t even crying.” You moved around him and crawled onto the stiff mattress. He didn’t respond, but when you looked up at him once you were settled on the bed, he had a look that said he knew you were lying. You let out a sigh and held your hand out to him. “Okay, I was crying…I just- I saw the bruises and the stitches and I-.” You squeezed your eyes shut, chewing on your trembling lip. Jake grasped your hand, sitting down beside you. “So much could’ve gone wrong, Jake. I know it’s already bad, but what if…” Your voice trailed off.

“I know, love.” He cupped your face with the softest touch. “I spent too many hours imagining the worst in that waiting room right down the hall… But you’re here and you’re healing and you’re both gonna be fine.” You leaned into his hand with a quiet hum as he continued, “There’s no more ‘what ifs.’ Not right now, anyways. And all I wanna focus on, is right now.” His lips curled into a smile as he threw his arm out in a sweeping gesture, speaking in his british accent, “Cast your worries to the open sea and let the waves carry them to far horizons at the edge of the world…”

A laugh shook your chest as you pulled him towards you and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “Make me a promise?” He pulled back far enough to look at you, a slight raise to his eyebrow as he waited to hear your request. “The nursery isn’t gonna be pirate themed…” Your giggle returned at the look of hurt on his face.

“Now that’s just plain mean.” Jake tried to fight his smile but failed miserably as he stared at your wide grin. He cupped your face again, catching you off guard and leaned forward, “I love you, Y/N.” It was the last thing he said before he graced you with the sweetest kiss.

_______________________________________________________

After nine long days of being stuck in the hospital, you were finally on your way home. You couldn’t have been happier to leave. The doctors and nurses were wonderful, but the food was horrible. There were a few times you’d convinced Sammy to smuggle you in snacks. The breathing exercises they had you doing everyday were helping your ribs heal and the pain was already a lot better than it had been. Dr. Brooks was adamant about keeping up with the exercises and he demanded lots of bed rest, but you were sick of being in bed. You knew you still had a long road to recovery, but with the swelling in your head completely gone, the doctor was confident in his decision to send you home. When he came into your room the night before with the news, you wanted to leap around with excitement, but you refrained.

You stared out the window with the same smile you’ve had since you woke up, knowing today was the day you got to go home. It was coasting into the early evening and Jake glanced at you before looking back to the road ahead, “What’s the first thing you wanna do when we get back, love?” His hand was holding onto yours over the center console.

“Take a blistering hot shower.” You answered without the slightest hesitation, causing Jake to chuckle. It was the truth though. The hospital showers never got hot enough, the water pressure sucked and there was always a nurse in the bathroom with you, forcing you to sit on the hard plastic bathing chair while you cleansed yourself. ‘It’s just a safety precaution, dear.’ That’s what she would always say. Jake had barely been at home in those nine days. You had to force him to leave on day three to get a change of clothes. He tried to argue that Josh could just pick them up and drop them off for him, but you refused and told him that you needed a few things that his twin just simply wouldn’t be able to find. On day seven, it wasn’t as hard to get him to make a trip home. You were both going a little stir-crazy being cooped up in the small room without much to do. Tv was boring, there were only so many card games to play and your mood swings were back in full force. Between the changing hormones in your body and bland beige walls you were forced to stare at 24/7, you could’ve sworn you were going insane. But now, as Jake pulled into the driveway, you’d never felt more calm. “I can’t wait to sleep in my bed.”

“I think that’s what I missed most.” He put the car in park and killed the engine, “Squeezing in that hospital bed did a number on my back.” Your body was buzzing as you pushed the car door open. Jake hopped out and came around to help you, even though you didn’t need it. You let him take your hand and close the door before leading you up the path.

He unlocked the front door and waited for you to step inside. You kicked your shoes off and went into the living room, “Not even a welcome home party?” Turning back to Jake, you crossed your arms over your chest with a disapproving look.

He came up, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you against him carefully, “Odessa and Sammy wanted to throw one, but I selfishly told them no…” You let your arms snake around his neck, twirling his hair in your fingers. “They were all there every single day. I just wanted you to myself today.” He kissed your forehead and began walking you backwards. “Now about that hot shower?” His hand slid from your hip to your ass, giving it a pinch.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, “Hmm… You better be careful Mr. Kiszka, doc says no strenuous activities.” You gave an innocent smile before breaking away from him and padding down the hallway. Stopping right inside of the bathroom door, you turned back to Jake, looking him dead in the eye with a mischievous smirk, “But maybe you can help me practice my breathing?”

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@ohgodthefeeling-gvf @gvfpal @takenbythemadness @objectsinspvce @mybussyinchrist @wetkleenex-gvf @myleftsock @everyglowinthetwilightknows @ppoutine @sinarainbows @aintthatapity @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @ohyoufancyhuh @montenegroisr @gvf23 @ageofbajabule @sacredmachine @ieatedsammy @seditabets @gretavansara @starcatcher-jake @hellowgoodbye @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @jaketlove @interstellar-shores @blovesbees @bingb00ng @sanguinebats @psychedelicsprinkles @heckingfrick @writingcold @sadiechar @brookekiszkaa @alyson814 @ageofwagner @gvfmelbourne @fuckthisforreal @gretavanfreaky @watchingover-hypegirl

#jake kiszka #gvf #greta van fleet #hands to yourself #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #danny wagner #josh kiszka #sammy kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #gvf fic #greta van fleet fic

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scarletts-scribbles · 3 months

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Hello! I'd like to request "your not exactly a good patient" with WandaNat. Thank you so much!

You're Lucky I Love You

⁀➷ Pairing: WandaNat

⁀➷ Notes: Thank you so much for the request! I hope this suffices :D sidenote - I love WandaNat so much

⁀➷ Summary: Wanda isn’t a good patient when she’s sick.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*'

“I told you to wear a coat.” Natasha rolled her eyes teasingly down at her girlfriend stirred restlessly, tossing and turning as she tried to get comfy.

Wanda sniffled pathetically, trying her best to glare through feverish-glassy eyes, “I’m-,” Her raspy voice caught in her throat, causing her to cough and splutter a little, “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are lyubov’,” The redhead sighed before shaking her head and tsk’ing in disapproval, “Thats exactly why you sound like death and have the chills, right baby?”

Wanda could do little more than roll her eyes - even though the action alone seemed to make the pounding in her head worsen tenfold. She couldn’t exactly argue, after all her girlfriend was right.

She’d been the one to offer to go and run down to the shops to pick up some essential groceries when they’d ran out a few days ago. It had been raining heavily most of the day and even though the pair would usually wait it out to be able to go together in better weather, Wanda had been wanting to cook for them tonight and she had been missing the key ingredients.

Natasha had kissed her cheek before she left, offering to go out herself but Wanda had insisted so the redhead had warned her to make sure to wear a coat.

She hadn’t…

In her defence it had stopped raining and well, she thought it’d stay that way… It didn’t. Leading her to come home a short 10 minutes later absolutely drenched to the bone.

Of course Nat had shaken her head and teased her with a very smug “I told you so” before ushering her off into a hot shower but despite getting warm and dry as quickly as possible, Wanda had still found herself waking up with a cold a few days later.

And Wanda wasn’t exactly the easier to look when she was ill either as Natasha had soon come to find out.

“I feel like I've been hit by a truck," Wanda echo’d in a whine for what must’ve been the forth time that hour.

"Well, that's what happens when you refuse to take medicine isn’t it?”

Wanda shot her a mock glare before succumbing to another fit of congested coughing to which Natasha handed her a tissue and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Can you at least try to cover your mouth?" She’d sighed, “As much as I love you, I’m not catching your cooties.” Nat made the symbol of cross with her fingers and held it out infront of her.

The response she got was little more than an annoyed huff from the fever flushed witch.

“You sure I can’t convince you to take some medicine sweetheart? It’d make you feel a whole lot better.” The redhead offered, letting her hand fall onto her girlfriends back to rub comforting circles down her spine.

But despise the offer, Wanda still shook her head and grumbled weakly, "I can take care of myself." Small sniffles punctuated her words, and she attempted to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by Natasha's firm hand.

Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes, "Sure, you're doing a great job so far." She reached for the thermometer on the bedside table and handed it to Wanda. "Humor me and take your temperature?”

Wanda sighed but obliged, muttering, "This is so unnecessary." As she waited for the reading, Natasha had gone to fetch a bowl of hot soup from the kitchen - just a little something she’d fixed up earlier that afternoon when Wanda was loudly snoring away, asleep the sofa after bolding stating that she wasn’t at all tired a few minutes prior.

"You're a terrible patient," Natasha laughed to herself as she returned back to the room to see her girlfriend glaring daggers at the thermometer as if a nasty look would change its reading.

“What’s in the bowl?” Wanda sniffled, finally noticing what her girlfriend had been holding.

The corner of Nat’s lips quirked up into a playful smile, “Well I heard there was a miserable girl could needed some soup… but I couldn’t find one so you’ll have to do instead.”

Wanda only pouted in response, looking more like a sulking child than a powerful witch.

"I can't help it if I'm a bit difficult when I'm sick," Wanda mumbled, accepting the warm bowl as Nat sat back down on the edge of the bed, watching over her with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Difficult is an understatement," She chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from Wanda's clammy forehead. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

ﾟ:*

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@lovelyy-moonlight

#wandanat #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat imagines #wandanat fluff #wandanat sickfic #wandanat comfort #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel #mcu

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bitterpotionn · 7 months

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Since having a daughter makes Johnny feel a bit guilty about what he does to women, does he feel any guilt about the things he has done and continues to do to his daughter's mother? And what if the daughter did end up looking more like her mother, would that instill any guilt in him over how he treats her mom?

I think that Johnny sees his partner as something he owns. You’re a mere extension of him. You are there to serve him whether that’s sexually, physically, etc. He doesn’t need to be nice to you or treat you well because you belong to him, simple as that.

This changes when you have your daughter. Like mentioned previously, Johnny is very conflicted about everything. He knew he would care about the kid sure, but he didn’t realize the overwhelming emotions that came with it. As she grew and started becoming her own unique person he could see that she is more than just something he owns.

He would notice how she would interact with you, how she would run around and play, how she would eat. He noticed the similarities between you two. The length of your hair, the way you both laughed the same, the way you both held your hairbrush. She was her own person and you were too. For so long he didn’t even give your personhood a second thought.

When he would reflect on how he has treated you over the course of years it would sting. Him and his daughter argue and disagree but he would never lay a hand on her, no matter how angry he got. He realized he never extended you the same mercy.

I think Johnny is so instilled in his ways, he wouldn’t stop the terrible treatment. But he would apologize more or do small things to try to make it up to you. He would hold you a little closer at night, cuddling up to you and stroking your hair.

He would notice how his daughter would glare at him after he just chewed you out for something, her eyes burned into him and seeped down deep. He would notice how she would treat him different, how she would be distant and cold. How she would leave the room once he entered. It hurt him, more than anything has ever before.

I do think Johnny is capable of some empathy, I do think he can reflect on his behavior but I don’t think he will ever have a meaningful change. Even when his daughter hates him, and is off living miles away somewhere better, he wouldn’t change. He would miss her, he’d miss her more than he ever thought was possible. He’d stare at old photos and he could feel pieces of his heart shattering. But at the end of the day, Johnny is Johnny and he won’t change.

The first thing he heard when he was driving down the family houses long dirt driveway was the sound of giggling. You and your daughter were in the front yard. She was running around on bare feet with a stuffed bear in her hands. You were sitting on a faded quilt as you watched her spin around in her hand-made dress.

He couldn’t help but smile as he parked and got out of his truck. She looked like an angel as she spun around, the sun hitting her freckled face as she smiled widely, showing off her missing front tooth.

With a small gasp she noticed Johnnys figure as he approached you to. She ran toward him and hugged his leg tightly, “Daddy!” She giggled as she gave him a gap-toothed smile. “Hello honeybee” he easily picked her up, holding her close in his broad arms.

You quickly got up and walked up to the pair. This is the first time you had seen Johnny in days. You don’t know where he went when he went on his binges, you didn’t bother to ask. You knew you wouldn’t like the answer. You didn’t say anything to him, only watched as he talked to her.

“You were gone forever!” She let out a dramatic sigh as she leaned her head on his chest, the old bear still gripped in her arms. “Daddy’s busy, you know that” he responded as he grabbed the bear and playfully shook it at her. “You’re never home” she pouted as she grabbed back her bear. She jumped out of his arms and went back to running around, kicking up grass and dirt.

Johnnys eyes shifted down to you, you were still standing silently as his side. “I’ll be home for a while…” his arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his chest as he watched his daughter run around in circles.

“She always asks for you ya know…” your words were slow and calculated. You didn’t want to risk upsetting him. He huffed and shrugged as he watched her start to pick some wildflowers by the fence. “You take care of it, she’s fine”

You stayed in his arms a while, both of you silently watching your daughters actions. After some time, she came over with a small fist full of purple, pink and orange wildflowers. Her teddy bear hung from her other hand as she leaned against the both of them. “I’m hungry!” She whined, pulling on leg of Johnnys jeans.

“You know what, I’m hungry too!” Johnny scooped her up again and held her close. “Let’s go see what grandma has cookin’?” She eagerly nodded and as she started putting some of the flowers in his hair. You watched the two, sometimes you resented how he acted toward her. It was clear he loved her but he should be there. He should be around more. Yet, each time he can come home and act like father of the year. Not even thanking you for taking care of his daughter alone for days.

You couldn’t say anything and he knew you wouldn’t. This was okay, for now at least. Tonight you will have dinner with your family. Johnny will crawl into your bed and apologize right after forcing you face down in the mattress. He would be gone again soon, you knew that. But right now it was okay, it had to be okay for her. Everything you did now was for her.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm game #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x reader #bitterpotionnheadcanons #johnnyslaughterdaddy'sgirl

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Note

Ari- pre baby....: Your boss is being cruel and said a horrible thing about you to the bosses of your boss about you

Warnings for--WOAH THIS GOT SO OUT OF HAND--yeah, so, bad/rude management, bit of angst and language, relatively-tame protective!Ari but look at this guy, nothing tame about him, and then not-at-all-tame sexy!Ari again please just look at him and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, smut, bit of praise/dominance? maybe, mostly just hng. (I'm FINE, btw, I'm not like lonely or repressed at all, FWIW, this is a totally normal reaction to...whatever. I have no shame anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️) MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for minors to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not for you! WC Who the hell knows. My guess is 2.5k about...

Too Eager, a Bedrock and Blueprints drabble

Sometimes you can tell by the way someone says something, they do not mean it kindly.

He's done it once before, your boss, described you as 'eager' when you volunteered to stay late and help with a project one of your coworkers messed up before leaving on an international vacation.

Someone had to do it, and at the time, you had no one to go home to. Why not? Dedication to your work makes you look good, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, eagerness crosses a line, and it's not a helpful or useful line. It's this ambiguous veil that you've passed through into being 'a woman' in this line of work. Eagerness translated to submissive and meek to your boss. He thinks you're a pushover now, and what's worse is there's no way to undo that stigma.

If you refuse to do extra, now that you have willingly done so before, you're not being a team player, you're being lazy, or you're clearly having 'a bad day.'

None of that is true, of course. You simply have a terrible boss, a man unable to interpret basic human decency without mansplaining it through a 1950s sepia filter for the incompetent.

You've come home crying a handful of times, played it off as nothing important to your boyfriend, and convinced Ari that you're just having those adulting pains that come with a full-time salaried position in a company hoping to do everything under the sun with as few employees as possible.

You're just worn thin. That's all. Ari understands that.

He even accepts that excuse for a time.

But then the phone call happens.

No, you aren't on the phone, and no, you are not meant to hear your boss say it to his bosses, but you do.

You once again 'volunteered' to finish a late project--if you can call being stared at by everyone in a meeting following the question "Who will handle this by Friday?" a voluntary choice--and walk past your boss's office to the restroom.

"Yeah, Donny--" clearly speaking to his own boss, Mr. Donovan, a golfing buddy once the courses open "--you know how these girls get. They're so eager to prove themselves. She's never said no."

Well, that just about sends you.

You're shaking by the time you wash your hands, splashing cool water on your neck in an effort to control the rising heat of anger. Frustration prickles behind your eyes.

Concentrating is impossible, and you text Ari to let him know you will be much later than initially thought. What can you do? What can you say that doesn't sound vindictive or childish? What happens when you go back on your word to get this done?

He joked about it, but saying 'no' runs a huge risk for someone like you. There's competition for this job. You had to work for years to be given this promotion even. Sure, you earned it, but it can be taken away just as easily.

Your boss knows that. Your boss's boss knows that. You think Ari knows that as well, but he actually doesn't.

Ari comes to pick you up, but when you refuse to come down to the truck, swearing you can't leave yet, he walks right on up to the offices.

He finds you in silent tears at your desk and kisses your forehead without a word. Your boss still chats in his office, seemingly avoiding going home to his own wife, loudly discussing the need for a new 9-iron.

Ari rips the phone out of the man's hand and disconnects the phone call.

"Hi, you don't know me and you don't want to," Ari starts with a huff that accounts for exactly 4% of his actual outrage at this moment, "but I'm here to pick up my girlfriend. She's been here--" he checks his watch "--an hour and forty-five minutes longer than necessary waiting for you to do your fu--job, and I'm taking her home. I assume you are capable of finishing your own damn work without supervision."

"It's not my job," your boss spits back.

"You're the manager. You've done her job before. You can do it again. It's what they pay you for."

Six-foot-scary Ari steps around the desk to prove his point.

"Unless you're so fucking lazy--" he tried not to curse, he really tried "--that you'd rather pay her double for every single second she puts up with your incompetence, daily, I suggest you get off your ass and do the work yourself."

The phone starts ringing beside him, and Ari picks it up.

"Hold please." He presses the receiver to his broad chest and glares daggers at the alarmed piece of shit cowering in a rolling chair. "She won't be here past five P.M. anymore, will she? Will she?"

Your boss shakes his head, taking the phone when Ari offers it, expressionless.

For good measure, Ari shoves the nearest stack of papers off the desk before stepping over the mess and walking out.

The entire ride home he thinks about how much he'd like to lodge that 9-iron so far up the guy's ass...and then realizes you're still crying quietly in your seat.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I swear, it'll be fine. He can't fire you for that. You still did more than you were supposed to, and if it takes him forever, that's his fault."

But you don't speak. Not when he rubs at your shoulders. Not when he opens the door for you. Not when you go to lay on the couch instead of eating dinner with him.

Ari sets a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, but you ignore him and turn over, curling into yourself.

Sure, yelling at your boss wasn't his most tactical move ever, but that bastard's been messing with your confidence for so long. Ari couldn't take it anymore; he doesn't know how you have taken it for so long.

You must have fallen asleep.

Groggy, empty of that hot anger and embarrassment that fueled you before, you turn willingly when Ari sits on the couch and places your legs in his lap.

He’s quiet and gentle, stroking your calves below your work skirt, asking what you want or what you need, but your mind is just blank.

With the TV turned down, it’s just a hum behind Ari’s focused and flickering face as he watches you in rapture. He knows your bad days. He hates them as much as you do. He hates to see you as anything less than content, but he most loves to see you happy.

“Let’s get you comfy, okay?”

He rolls the zipper of your skirt down at your side and yanks it free slowly. He runs his hands up your body and back, under your blouse, to unhook your bra, ghosting a kiss to your clothed chest before sitting back up to tug at your tights. He didn’t say anything about you only taking your shoes off at the edge of the couch, which means Ari is being remarkably controlled for how much he hates shoes in the house. As he playfully shimmies the long and frustrating tubes of nylon over your feet, you sit up to pull off everything up top, letting the blouse and bra drop to the floor and crossing your arms over your bare breasts.

“Cold?”

You nod, and Ari takes off his own t-shirt right there to help you into. It’s warm from his body and each fiber smells deeply of a decade of comfort. His hands return to holding your thighs.

“Better?”

Yes, but you don’t want to talk about it.

You lay back and stare at the ceiling, watching what looks like blue flames dance over the beams and plaster. It wasn’t really your responsibility, it wasn’t truly your job you didn’t finish before walking out of the office, and it wasn’t even you who encouraged Ari to blow up at that shithead boss of yours, but tension and irritation still rise in your chest, constricting you as if the cotton switched to lead threads by some alchemy.

One of Ari’s large hands settles on your stomach beneath his shirt. Though it adds weight, the touch is human and grounding. He cares for you. He wants to take care of you, and sure, maybe his attempts have been imperfect so far but they show a willingness to listen and work. His other fingers draw patterns over the inside of your thigh, and he digs into the soft flesh a little more when you clench.

That tickles. He knows it tickles.

But he says nothing. He asks nothing. He stares forward like this is the most interesting silent movie he’s ever seen, except there’s definitely a lot of talking and he can’t hear a word.

He settles into an absentminded pace, and you don’t notice his position steadily moving until the tip of Ari’s index finger starts teasing over your panties.

His gaze doesn’t shift from the television. Ari’s pace doesn’t change at all for what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure because you’re not able to pay attention to anything but that featherlight drag over your skin.

You turn slightly, and his hand presses heavier into your belly, pinning you there. As his fingers push closer, drawing more distinct and deliberate circles, you grab hold of his wrist, and Ari hums.

“More? You like that, sweetheart?”

He stops to instead trace the edges of your panties, letting you whimper and squeeze him, rubbing your thighs together over his lap.

“Maybe these are in the way, huh? Should I—“

You’re already lifting your knees to help.

Ari chuckles as he slides off your underwear. You gasp when he doesn’t let both of your legs back down though, hooking one behind his head to keep you open and exposed to him. He doesn’t fake watching the screen anymore. He scoots closer until your hips are propped up on his thigh, folding you at the mercy of his fingers.

“That’s it. Let me in.”

Though he’s no longer teasing, your boyfriend takes his time working in one, then two, then three fingers. As he becomes more engrossed in your sounds and little wiggles of response, Ari turns toward you, kissing the inside of your knee and thigh, drawn in by the sight of you taking him in so smoothly.

He coos when you tighten around him, shallowing his movements in favor of curling those fingers and rubbing his palm against your clit.

Your grip on his wrist is frantic while that tether in your gut threatens to snap. The scrambling makes Ari flip his pressing hand over for you to grasp.

“That’s it,” he encourages hoarsely. “There she is.”

He knows exactly how to fuck you, exactly how to throw you over that cliff and break you apart exquisitely, and he loves to watch.

“More,” Ari demands over your cries and the loud squelching of wetness between you. “Give me more. I know you can.” His hand holding yours remains weighty and urgent against your body as you convulse, milking your orgasm for all its worth and then ripping away to watch your cunt flutter around nothing. “Fuck, yes. More.”

You’re only vaguely aware that Ari shoves his drenched hand down his sweatpants to slick himself, squeezing your grip back.

“More,” you repeat.

Ari groans, tearing the pants down away from his hips to fist his cock harder at your words. “Yeah?” He licks his dry lips after a ragged breath. “That’s what you want? More?”

The only answer you can muster is bringing your joined hands up and sucking two of his fingers into your mouth, a grunt of unbridled lust punched from his naked chest.

He hurriedly picks up your clothes, stuffing them under your ass as a makeshift pillow so he can straddle the side of the couch and fuck into you, your leg still over his shoulder. His shirt rides up as he tweaks your nipples between those same rough, sticky fingers.

He huffs out praise—how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how grateful he is that you let him give you this—and tells you to take whatever you want, to come whenever you want.

Your jaw goes slack, but Ari immediately uses that spit to swirl around your bundle of nerves as he drives in faster, deeper, harder. The only thing your mind can hold onto while your body floats is the sound of him teetering on the edge of ecstasy with you.

He slows to ease you through the overwhelming intensity. It takes you a long time to notice he’s remained hard inside you, and after sweetly petting all over your skin to ground you, he almost pulls out.

You tense.

“You didn’t finish.” It’s a question and condemnation in one.

“You didn’t tell me to,” he says with a debauched smile.

Gingerly, Ari lowers your leg down to hook around his waist, bending to nuzzle against the long line of your sweaty throat, pressed to where oxygen rushes in and out of your ravaged body.

“Go on. Practice. Boss me around.” He leans back, ready. “You know I’m only too eager to please you, kid. Anytime.”

It’s kind and genuine, an open invitation, a request you can refuse, but you don’t want to say ‘no’ to Ari. He is patient and receptive, loyal and respectful. He protects you when you flounder to see your own worth. You’re wanted and needed. The advantage is all yours. You are neither submissive nor meek; you are as dedicated to your pleasure as you are to Ari’s. That’s the whole package. That’s the woman he loves.

Eagerness is not a fault. It’s a gift you give to each other and your lives.

“Okay, then, old man—“ you reach to scratch through his thick beard “—take me to bed. We’ve got work to do.”

Ari grins and scoops you up with sudden energy before realizing he’s about to trip over the sweatpants pooling around his ankles. You laugh, and he curses up a storm, kicking them onto the floor by your shoes.

Like he did that first day in the house, the first day he showed how much he felt for you, Ari follows orders and carries you down the hall.

A/N: I had a lot of trouble editing this because the month of May just melts my brain with how busy it gets. Hopefully, this turned out okay. I got a sudden bit of inspo when I woke up the other day, and it seemed like the way to go at the time...Now, I'm not so sure. I'm going out on a limb and posting this anyway. If it's trash, please let me know, and I'll redo it!

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#ro answers #bedrock and blueprints #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fluff #sinful sunday #series

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