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solemnarration · 2 days

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𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter three

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, reader wears shorts and a t-shirt, swearing, underage drinking, kissing, mentions of controlling mother, mentions of mutual masturbation (minors DNI), use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: kind of nervous to post my version of the iconic hotel scene but i hope you all like it!! 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟐𝟎𝟔. 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟓𝐀𝐌.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you hissed as you followed Tashi down the corridor of the dingy hotel you were staying at. You marched behind your best friend in light blue and white striped pyjama shorts, a white fitted t-shirt, fuzzy socks, and your favourite slippers.

“What can I say? My persuasive abilities started getting better since we became friends,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and smirking. “I guess you’re a good influence on me!”

You sighed, crossing your arms defensively and staring at the door of Room 206 once you arrived. “Tashi, this is insane,” you insisted, keeping your voice down in case Art and Patrick overheard. “They’re just going to be annoyed that I’m here. Plus, I’m going to have to entertain the leftover guy when you eventually pick one to make out with! You know how I feel about small talk with strangers.”

“You weren’t complaining at the beach,” Tashi pointed out. “Or when I was taking pictures with the trophy. And shut up, they’re not going to be annoyed you’re there, they want you to come!” She paused, trying not to laugh. “Literally and euphemistically.”

You groaned at her joke. “I’m getting a strong vibe that we’re about to star in our own horror movie. Exit, stage left!”

Your best friend crossed her arms. “Why did you come with me if you don’t want to see them?”

“Because I’d be a really shitty friend if I let you get murdered by yourself,” you argued, naively hoping Tashi wouldn’t recognise your go-to tactic of using humour to avoid confronting your emotions. “For the rest of my life, people are going to see me on the street and say, ‘That’s Y/N Y/L/N, the girl who let beloved tennis star Tashi Duncan become a cautionary tale instead of going to those guys’ room with her. What a bitch.’”

Tashi grinned. “You like them, don’t you? You really like them.” Before you could argue, she knocked on the door four times.

You grabbed Tashi’s arm and asked her, “Are you sure about this?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she challenged you, raising an eyebrow. “Think about it. Really give it a second. If they’re boring, we’ll leave. If they’re annoying, we’ll leave. If they’re being gross, we’ll leave. We have all the power here, Y/I.”

You frowned. “We do?”

As if proving her point, Tashi knocked on the door again before motioning for you to press your ear against it. You listened as Art and Patrick scrambled to tidy their room. Tashi covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh too loudly.

“Y/I, they’re literally obsessed with you. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Wait!” a muffled cry sounded behind the door.

“Oh, shit,” a second voice added.

You grinned, listening to their pounding footsteps approaching the door. You stepped back just in time for Art to wrench the door open.

“Hi,” he greeted.

Patrick appeared a millisecond after him. “Hey!”

The pair of best friends were dishevelled, their hair still ruffled from hurriedly pulling on shirts, and their chests heaving slightly from the effort of a last-minute clean-up they were trying to conceal. Their appearances betrayed the frantic scramble to present a semblance of order in their room, and their efforts made you bite your lip to hide a growing smile. Most notably, their eyes were just as intense as you remembered, locking onto yours with a piercing gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

Breaking their entranced stare, Tashi wondered, “Can we come in?”

You were quickly ushered inside and invited to sit on the carpeted floor. With amused, slightly confused eyes, you looked at Tashi and tilted your head, wondering why they were fussing so much. She rolled her eyes, mouthing the word, whipped, and gesturing to you. Soon, the boys settled on the carpet opposite you and Tashi, forming a natural square as they opened the can of beer they promised you.

Feeling awkward, you scanned the room and registered the twin beds pushed together with interest, suspicious after seeing Art and Patrick’s state of undress. Both were in their boxers and had shirts carelessly thrown on. Patrick’s shirt wasn’t even buttoned, revealing his toned torso with pride.

“We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” you wondered, eyes flitting between the best friends with an amused smile.

“Of course not,” Art was quick to deny your insinuation. When you spotted the shower cap covering the hotel smoke detector and frowned, he realised it wasn’t just that you didn’t smoke. You hated cigarettes and smoking. “We were just–”

“Passing the time,” Patrick filled in when Art hesitated.

“Right.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you guys go to, like, Mommy And Me classes together?” Tashi wondered, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room. Patrick took a sip of his beer, grinning. “What? You just seem like brothers.”

Their bond reminded Tashi of her friendship with you, and that was a rare feat.

“Well, that’s what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do for you,” Art said in a musical tone, smirking at Patrick beside him.

Tashi chuckled. “Oh. Right, right, right. You guys went to boarding school.”

“We’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve, so…” Patrick trailed off, shrugging.

“Hence the closeness,” you completed his sentence. “That’s cool!”

“Very cute,” Tashi agreed.

“You two ever think about doing something like that?” Art asked before drinking the can he got from Patrick.

“Boarding school?” Tashi shook her head. “No. No, no, no. We couldn’t afford it. And even if I could get a scholarship or something, there’s no way that my parents would want me coming of age in an environment like that,” she added, gesturing with her hands.

Patrick’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why? What were they afraid of?” Tashi lifted her eyebrows and nodded, silently pointing out the obvious. “Oh, yeah. Right!” Everyone laughed at that. “What about you?”

Usually, when a group of people had their eyes on you, it made you incredibly anxious. Sitting here with Art, Patrick, and Tashi felt safe. You weren’t worried about expressing your true thoughts or wearing the protective mask you had created over the years.

“I wish they would have sent me to boarding school,” you mused, rolling your eyes. “If my mother had it her way she would have homeschooled me and never taught me anything other than how to hit a ball across the net. I’d be a living, breathing tennis machine if it was up to her.”

“Ah.” Patrick nodded. “Right.”

“Luckily my dad convinced her that my education is just as important as a tennis career, so I got sent to a cushy private school nearby that was lenient enough to let me miss classes for competitions,” you added. “It was actually pretty great, I loved going to school. Getting into Stanford was a lifelong dream come true.”

“Really?” Art asked, grinning. He ran a hand through his curls and gave you the beer next. You were sitting so close that your bare knees brushed once in a while, sending a jolt through your body like a shot of espresso each time.

“What? Do I not seem like the brainy type?” you retorted, passing the can of beer on to Tashi after taking a sip.

“No, no, no–”

“I’ll have you know I was my class salutatorian, and just three months ago I gave a speech at graduation that was so beautiful it made everyone cry,” you bragged.

Art and Patrick couldn’t keep their eyes off you as you relaxed around them, your bare face free of makeup and your smile illuminating the room with a natural, effortless beauty. You were enchanting when you were at ease, making their heart swell with admiration. Every time your skin touched Art’s, it stirred something insatiable in him.

“Oh, it was heart-wrenching,” Tashi agreed. “Y/I is the only person I know at that school and I still teared up. She’s brilliant, she would’ve gotten into Stanford even without tennis.” Grateful, you leaned your head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“At least now we finally get to play on the same team,” you mentioned happily.

“So how long have you two been friends?” Patrick questioned, motioning between you and Tashi. “Did you meet through tennis?”

“We met when I kicked T’s ass when we were fourteen,” you informed them, grinning teasingly at your best friend and lifting your head from her shoulder.

“I think that might be my favourite match I ever played,” Tashi confessed fondly.

You sat up straight, looking at your best friend and gaping. “Are you serious?!”

Tashi Duncan, the woman who lived and breathed tennis and trophies, had the most fun during a tennis match when she lost? It didn’t make sense, even to you, her best friend of four years.

“Definitely! You were the first person I met who played me and actually challenged me. I lost that game and I just thought, ‘I have to meet this girl. I’ve never played against someone who loves this game as much as me before, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.’”

“Wow.” Patrick nodded, impressed. “That’s as good as the whole boarding school bond.”

Tashi grinned, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “So, is that where you met your girlfriend?” If Patrick was going to pursue her best friend, Tashi needed to get to the bottom of his romantic situation.

“Oh, she’s not my, um…” Patrick glanced at Art as the blond crossed his arms and leaned in close, looking pleasantly smug that someone had called him out. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And you? Why aren’t you pretending not to have a girlfriend?” Tashi questioned Art, taking another sip of her beer.

“Art’s in between ladies.”

It didn’t surprise you that Art and Patrick were popular with the girls at their school; not only were they ranked fifth and second in the juniors, but they were magnetically charming and wonderful to look at.

“Oh, no, no–” Art pointed at his best friend, resenting the tone Patrick took on– “That makes it sound like I’m some sort of–”

“Player,” Tashi suggested.

“Pompous promiscuous philanderer,” you offered an alternative. Tashi and Patrick giggled, enjoying your alliteration.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, Art does fine for himself,” Patrick added happily. “I mean, look at him–” he reached over to touch Art’s face and was immediately pushed away.

“So…” Tashi looked expectantly between the boys. “How often does this happen?” she inquired, motioning her pointer finger in a circle to indicate the situation you now found yourselves in. “Going after the same girls?”

“Not as often as you think, actually.”

“Really?” you exclaimed.

“No.”

“Yeah, no, we, uh…” Art grinned. “We usually have different types,” he revealed.

“Hmm. So you’re saying we should be flattered?” Tashi teased.

You sat up, holding your hand up as if you were taking an oath. “I know I am,” you played up the ridicule Tashi had started. “The thought that two teenage boys might both be interested in me? That’s about as rare as tennis balls at practice!”

“Or sunshine in California,” Tashi chimed, referencing more common things to hammer the point home.

“Boys are too easy,” you commented. “All it takes is boobs to capture their interest, that’s it.”

Art risked a look at you and grinned broadly. “Isn’t that just because you’re everybody’s type?” he retorted. His candied gaze swept your body languidly, lingering on the boobs you just referenced. You felt your cheeks warm at the attention, equally stunned and impressed by his gall.

“Ah, yes. Many have tried and none have succeeded thus far,” Tashi reported, handing the can of beer back to you. “Y/N’s very picky when it comes to guys. They don’t tend to stick around, and not because they don’t want to.”

That caught Patrick’s attention. “Oh, really? You have a specific type, do you?” He glanced at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

You tried not to stare at his lithe body, stretched out and perfectly on display. “Of course,” you agreed readily. “Only the best for me. Six foot one, brunet, build like a god–”

“So far so good,” Patrick mused, pleased with your description.

“Spanish,” Tashi added helpfully. At that, Patrick deflated.

You pointed at her, nodding enthusiastically. “Right, thanks! Yes, Spanish–” You paused to recall what attributes you might have forgotten. “Youngest French Open winner in history–”

At that, Art burst into laughter. “No fucking way! You’re just describing Nadal,” he accused.

Patrick groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on! I thought you were being serious.”

You smirked, shrugging and sharing a pleased look with Tashi. “What can I say, I like winners,” you teased, not meaning it. “With glorious biceps.”

“So glorious,” Tashi agreed through her laughter.

You smiled and shook your head. “No, I don’t have a type. I’ve just never met anyone who wanted me for something other than my looks or status, so I didn’t ask any of them to stay.” Art and Patrick nodded, sympathising with you.

“What about the two of you?” Tashi inquired, motioning between the pair.

Still smiling, Art asked, “What do you mean?”

“You know…” you nodded intentionally. “Beds pushed together, hanging out with minimal clothing. Have you ever…?”

Patrick’s smile slipped a little, and he tilted his head, thinking it over. Art seemed startled by the suggestion. “Oh! No,” he declared. More awkwardly than you expected them to, they laughed. “No. Why? Is that surprising?”

“Not surprising,” you mused. “You just seem very…”

“Close,” Tashi implied.

Everyone turned to look at Patrick, waiting for his input. As you observed his expression, you noticed a subtle tension in his features, hinting that he was restraining himself beneath the surface.

“What?” you wondered, too curious to hold back.

“Well–”

“No,” Art interjected. His smile was long gone, and a deadpan expression kissed his features. He shook his head, looking more severe than you thought the blond was capable of. Perhaps that was the real reason he was ice in their dynamic…

“I mean–”

“No,” Art insisted. Patrick spluttered, trying to get a word in as nervous chortles escaped him. “Patrick, no.”

Still laughing, Patrick said, “Sorry.”

“Yes,” Tashi encouraged happily.

“No.”

“I think you need to tell us now,” she added.

“It sounds way too good to hold back,” you excitedly agreed.

“No.”

Patrick reached for the beer and looked at his best friend with a delighted smile. “I think it’s a sweet story,” he remarked.

“Uh-huh,” Art agreed sarcastically, putting his head in his hand to hide his face from you. “All right.”

“Well, let’s hear it,” Tashi exclaimed excitedly.

Embarrassed, Art allowed it, “Yeah, no, go ahead.”

“Uh…” Patrick and Art spluttered, dissolving into awkward laughter. “I taught Art how to jerk off,” Patrick confessed. You stared at him in surprise, not having expected that answer. “So…”

To avoid your eyes, Patrick drank his beer, and Art hid the bottom half of his face inside his grey Stanford t-shirt. As you and Tashi exchanged amused glances, a silent understanding passed between you, your eyes alight with shared delight. At that moment, the dynamic in the group shifted, and you realised Tashi had been right.

Whether or not you believed her earlier, you had the power here; you were in control.

“I think I need a little more than that,” you admitted, testing the waters and not wanting to push them too far.

Art’s head popped up. “Okay,” he began, making you and Tashi howl with laughter at his sudden 180. “Patrick was an early bloomer–” Art pointed an accusatory finger at his best friend, who smirked– “Okay? And I think that I was on time. And one time–” he emphasised that it only happened once– “When we were twelve, he thought I was asleep and he was, you know…”

“Jerking off,” they chorused.

“And, yeah… And I asked him, ‘What are you doing?’ And he told me. He’s…”

Again, in unison, they said, “Jerking off.”

You bit your lip to suppress your laughter.

“He asked me if I had ever done it before.” Art snickered as he spoke. “And I told him no. And so, he just… He showed me how.” When he was done, Art finally looked up at you and Tashi. Proudly, Patrick nodded, confirming the story.

Tashi stared. “What do you mean he showed you how?” she wondered, mimicking how Art had pronounced the words. You looked behind you at their beds pushed together and nodded, also wanting to know the specifics.

Spotting your sideways glance, Art quickly defended himself, “No. I mean–”

“Well–”

“I mean, he did it on his bed–” Art pointed to the left to indicate where Patrick’s bed was in their room. “I did it on my bed–” he gestured to the right, purposely creating distance between their beds in the story– “We did it together, but like on opposite sides in the room.”

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Patrick wagged a finger and assented with a nod. Your eyes travelled south as he adjusted his underwear, and you raised a sceptical eyebrow at the timing.

“You know.” Art cleared his throat loudly.

Tashi was entranced by the story, finding it more entertaining as they provided further details. “Silent?” she inquired, astonished.

“Oh, no, no!”

“No, no!” The boys laughed.

“No, we were talking about Kat, weren’t we?” Art recalled.

Patrick pointed and agreed, “Kat Zimmerman!”

“Patrick said it’s always better–”

“Yeah.”

“–if you’re, like, thinking about somebody when you’re doing it. And so I asked him who you’re thinking about, and he was talking about this girl–”

“Kat Zimmerman,” they recited in harmony.

“And so, I thought about her, too.”

“Wow,” you and Tashi intoned in unison, rendered speechless by their story.

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” As the bolder of the two of you, Tashi had no problem probing them for further information, even if it was embarrassing. “And who finished first?”

“Oh, I don’t remember–”

“I think you,” Patrick cut in.

The air crackled with tension as Patrick and Art’s gazes locked in a loaded stare, the weight of the personal revelation hanging between them.

“Is this a normal thing guys do?” you wondered, changing the subject so as not to dwell on Art’s embarrassment. “What happened afterwards?”

Patrick chuckled as Art shook his head. “I think Art was a little surprised by the whole thing,” he revealed, telling the rest of the story through unsuccessfully suppressed laughter. “He was–” another chortle escaped him; Art hid his face in his shirt again– “He was just sitting there covered in all of it.”

Tashi laughed. “What?!”

“He looked like a kid who’d spilled milk all over his lap!”

As the four of you roared with laughter at the hilarious story, Art couldn’t help but yell, “Jesus, Patrick!”

The shared laughter unexpectedly deepened the bond between the four of you; the tension that had previously hung in the air dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and closeness thanks to the reverberating giggles. The story was rooted in innocence and exploration that made you feel at ease in Art and Patrick’s company, forging connections that transcended your brief acquaintance with them.

It was easy to fall into place with them and feel like you belonged.

“I knew enough already at this point to have a sock nearby, right? Forgot to tell Art about that part,” Patrick added.

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Art took turns burying his face in his t-shirt and letting himself laugh in the open.

“Yeah, so…”

“Right. Okay.” Tashi grinned ear to ear. “And what about Miss Zimmerman?” She reached over to take the beer from Patrick’s grasp. “What ever happened to her? You guys…” Tashi trailed off.

Patrick shook his head. “Neither of us… She got injured a week later and had to quit.”

You frowned a little. “Really? That’s terrible!”

To cheer you up, Patrick quickly assured you, “She wasn’t very good in the first place.”

“No, she sucked,” Art agreed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right. That is a very cute story,” Tashi gave them her stamp of approval.

Patrick quietly laughed. “Thanks. What about you two?” he turned the tables on you. Art perked up at the suggestion.

You rolled your eyes. “You wish,” you waved them off.

“We really do,” Art joked.

“No, me and Tashi are soulmates for sure, but nothing like you two ever happened,” you clarified. “It can’t be explained by platonic love, but it’s not romance either. We’re just…” you paused, trying to find the right words for it. “Two halves of a whole, completing each other.”

“It’s actually really crazy,” Tashi chimed in. “I was going through life thinking something was missing, and when we met I realised I wasn’t a whole person until I had Y/N in my life.”

“Wow,” Art mumbled quietly, entranced by how you and Tashi spoke about your relationship.

“Have you ever met someone and it feels like they’ve been a part of your life forever, even though you just met?” you added, hoping to paint an accurate picture for Art and Patrick. They smiled fondly, making brief eye contact and nodding. “That’s what it’s like with me and Tashi. We just click, you know? We always did. Like two pieces of a puzzle. I can’t explain it, but being with her just feels right.”

“Same here,” Tashi added happily. “It’s like she’s the mirror–” she motioned from her chest to you for emphasis– “reflecting the best parts of me back at myself. Without her, I’m not sure I’d recognise the person staring back at me.”

You smiled affectionately at your best friend, going to retrieve the beer from her but finding it empty. “Oh,” you exclaimed. “We’re out of beer.”

The boys looked at each other unsurely. “Um…”

Tashi glanced at you expectantly, and without speaking, you could tell what she was telling you. We have all the power here, Y/I. You were more aware of this truth than ever but didn’t know how to proceed. You thought to yourself, if you were as bold and confident as Tashi, what would you do?

You got to your feet, suddenly looking down at your new friends. You weren’t sure if it was the minimal beer in your bloodstream – combined with the champagne you and Tashi snuck at her party a couple hours ago – but your heart raced, palms growing clammy as nervous excitement coursed through your veins. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gathered your courage, feeling a flutter in your stomach as you sat on their beds.

When Art and Patrick stared at you with awe-filled eyes, you smiled. “You know, it feels a little lonely up here without you–” You barely got the words out when Patrick took a seat on your left, Art joining you on your other side right after. “I don’t believe that you don’t go after the same girls for a single second,” you admitted, carefully studying the boys’ faces. “But there is something I’m curious about.”

“What?” they chorused.

“Who the better kisser is,” you revealed. You heard Patrick and Art’s breath catching in their throats and looked at Tashi on the floor with a surprised grin. “Feel like joining us, T?”

Smirking proudly at your nerve, Tashi rested her hands on the carpet and leaned back to observe. “I’m good here,” she declined your offer, preferring to watch from her spot on the floor. Tashi knew those boys were there for one girl only, and it wasn’t her. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“So… who wants to go first?” you offered.

Painfully desperate to kiss you, Art whispered, “Please.” It was like he didn’t realise he had said it.

You turned to him, admiring his features. Art’s face was flushed with a deep, rosy hue, his adoring eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of pure, unwavering worship. It was as if the entire world had vanished, and all he could see – all he could focus on – was you, the girl who had captivated his soul. Your heart pounded at the sight of his unadulterated emotions, wishing you could be so open with your own.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you replied, letting your eyes flit between Art’s deep blue eyes and pink lips before closing the space between you and kissing him.

Your lips met softly, a gentle brush that made you both shiver. For a moment, Art couldn’t think; his senses were overwhelmed with the pillowy touch of your lips and the fact that you kissed him first, not Patrick. The warmth of his touch ignited a spark in you as he swept his thumbs across your cheeks affectionately, caressing you to ensure that you were real and not just a part of his imagination. The subtle scent of something characteristically Art was intoxicating, and you deepened the kiss, parting your lips slightly and shifting closer. Like they did when you sat on the carpet next to him, your knees touched, and his skin felt scorching hot.

Getting bolder, Art ran his hands up your bare thighs, sighing against your mouth at the feeling of the warm expanse of your legs. Your cheeks and legs felt hot; it was like all the warmth in your body was flowing to the areas where Art was touching you. It was almost like a dance, and it occurred to you that kissing Art was just like meeting his eyes, unrestrained in his emotional expression and leaving you wanting more. Gently, he nudged his nose against yours, almost lazy in his slow exploration of your mouth.

It wasn’t just sweet; it was heavenly.

When you leaned back to pull away, Art’s lips chased you. You had to place your hands on his chest for him to open his eyes and realise what you were doing. For a moment, you just looked at each other, enjoying your flustered expressions and the sight of your bruised lips.

You barely turned to face Patrick when he crashed his lips to yours and collided with a fiery intensity different from your kiss with Art. Like his playing style, Patrick’s kiss was a passionate exchange that left you breathless and your skin tingling with every brush of his mouth. This kiss was raw and emotive, a stark contrast to the sweet tenderness and devotion of Art’s. Where Art relished in the slow ease of your kiss, Patrick’s swift confidence was dominating and fiery. You gasped a little when his teeth bit your top lip. He chuckled, pecking your lips before his tongue soothed the spot he bit.

While Art had grabbed your thighs to touch more of you, Patrick nearly yanked you towards him to have you closer, almost impossibly so. From the sudden movement, Art’s hands fell from your thighs, and he stared, open-mouthed, as his best friend made you groan appreciatively. Patrick’s hands cradled the back of your head, ushering you in his direction, and you tangled your fingers in his tousled curls. The hunger and need in his kiss sent your head spinning.

He kissed you like it was his last day on earth, head tilted to one side and tongue teasing yours in a way that made you glad you were sitting because your knees felt weak.

Running out of air, you pulled away and felt your stomach flooding with heat at the sight of Patrick’s pupil-blown lake-blue eyes. You didn’t realise someone could look at you with so much desire, and it made you gasp quietly. The low orange light of the hotel room glinted off his eyes, mirroring the spark you felt jolting your body each time his lips touched yours. Patrick was warm and intense but still adoring. He was flushed but not as pink as Art. Instead, his cheeks were red, and the rest of him was almost golden. His blue-green, deep eyes stripped away your defences without any effort, hinting at the effortless understanding you had only ever felt with Tashi in the past. You were so seen, so understood that you wanted to shy away from his gaze; it was like Patrick could see the depths of your being, leaving you feeling exposed yet inexplicably drawn to him.

“I’m not sure I can decide,” you admitted as your heart raced. Your mind swirled, trying to grasp the reality of the sweet and dizzying kisses that left your lips tingling and your thoughts pleasantly hazy. There was an inexplicable lightness in your body despite the heaviness in the air. They were both perfect in their own ways, neither better than the other.

It was nothing Art or Patrick had ever experienced before.

You touched them with such care and emotion, so much want, that it left them needing more. It wasn’t just that the brush of your lips felt like perfection, but the fact that you were the one doing it made all the difference.

You had kissed them. You had made them feel this way.

They couldn’t hide their physiological response to your sweet affection and didn’t even try. For Patrick, it was visible in the heavy way his chest rose and fell to catch his breath while the tightening sensation in Art’s pants was there for everyone to see.

“Maybe the two of you could help me decide…” you trailed off, gently closing the gap between the two best friends and encouraging their lips to meet.

Patrick and Art were so entranced – not only with you but by the effect they had on you – that they didn’t fight it. Perhaps it was because they had so many years of history, but their kiss was even more impassioned and unrestrained. They were all tongue and teeth, connected only by their mouths until Patrick tugged Art closer by the shoulder. You watched with hungry, curious eyes, noting how Patrick always seemed to need to be adjoined to the person he was kissing. Art got lost in their kiss just as he had with yours, giving everything he had to Patrick and holding nothing back.

It was so beautiful you didn’t know what to do with yourself. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling for them.

Breath hitching in panic, you dragged your eyes away, looking down at Tashi for help.

“Well, this was fun,” she declared, effectively saving you from having to say anything. Tashi was proud that you’d gone after what you wanted, and she could tell with one glance at your face that you were ready to go. If there was one thing Tashi knew, it was that you preferred to run from your feelings than confront them head-on. “Thanks for the beer. We’re going to bed,” Tashi added, getting up and putting her slides back on.

Art and Patrick parted and turned to look at you with twin stunned expressions.

“We have to get going,” you agreed with your best friend. Tashi pulled you up off the bed with a tender tug.

“What about your numbers?” Patrick asked, now more desperate than ever before.

“We already told you, we’re not homewreckers,” Tashi reminded them as you placed your feet into your slippers.

Art nearly begged, “Please.”

Tashi released a short laugh. “Um… Okay, uh… We will be watching your match tomorrow. Y/N likes winners–” Everyone’s eyes flickered over to you, and you averted your eyes shyly– “so whoever wins can have their girl of choice’s number. The other guy has to back off.”

Art exhaled, leaning forward in disappointment. Smug, Patrick readily agreed to the terms of the bet, “All right.”

“Don’t give up before the match even starts,” you encouraged Art, wanting to take one last look into his icy blue eyes before you returned to your room. “You can beat him if you want to. I really believe that, Art.” The honeyed way you said his name only worsened the blond’s hard-on. He inhaled sharply, eyes shutting in a moment of bliss.

“Are you saying you want me to?”

“Are you saying he’s the better kisser?” Patrick added curiously. His hooded eyes made his already dark eyes appear almost pitch-black, pupils blown wide.

“She’s saying you’re not going to get anyone’s number if you don’t,” Tashi corrected him.

Art asked, “But what do you want?”

“I don’t know about Y/N, but I want to watch some good fucking tennis,” Tashi said pointedly. “I’ll leave that up to you two. Good night.” She grinned and went to open the door, stepping outside and holding it open for you.

You cleared your throat and resorted to humour like you did when the tension was too thick. “Why don’t you just–” you motioned to the beds they had pushed together– “You know. For old time’s sake.” Art stared at you with huge eyes at the insinuation. When your eyes flitted to the brunet beside him, you could tell Patrick was trying not to smirk. “And don’t forget, it’s always better if you’re thinking about somebody when you’re doing it,” you quoted Patrick in a faux innocent voice, lips curving into a smug grin as Tashi shut the door behind you.

#challengers #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers movie #challengers x reader #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfiction #challengers fanfic #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #fic: guilty as sin?

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thatlittlered · 2 days

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would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comfort and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #thomas gibson

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auteurdelabre · 1 day

Text

SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12

rating: 18+

tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.

a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!

masterlist here

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

"Wake up."

You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.

"Time to go. Get dressed."

You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.

"Did you sleep much?"

"Yep. Plenty."

You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.

You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.

“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”

Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.

“Here.”

You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.

“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”

“Ate mine already.”

He’s lying.

He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.

“You sure?”

Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.

“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”

“Of course.”

You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.

Joel leads, you follow.

And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.

The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.

Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.

“Joel can I ask you something?”

He visibly cringes. “What?”

“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”

His shoulders relax. “Practice.”

“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”

“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”

You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.

“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”

To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses

“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”

"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."

"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.

“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”

Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.

“You don’t even know Luke.”

Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.

The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.

"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."

"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.

"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"

“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.

"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.

“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”

Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.

What will you tell her?

He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.

In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.

"Fuck."

Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.

You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You good to keep goin'?"

"Uh huh."

He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.

You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.

You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.

He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?

Do you want him to?

You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.

When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.

"It's them!"

"Open the fucking gate!"

You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.

The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the

Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.

Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.

"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"

"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."

You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.

When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.

She loves him so much.

You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.

'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."

"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.

The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.

“Thank fuck!”

You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.

"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.

Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.

You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.

Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.

You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.

"Thank you for everything, Joel."

You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.

You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.

"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"

And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.

Nothing has changed.

He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.

"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."

You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.

"Yeah," you nod. "I am."

///

Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.

You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.

“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something to me.”

Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.

“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”

“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”

You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.

“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”

Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.

“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.

“What?”

“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”

“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”

“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”

You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.

“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”

Yeah, the rest is history.

You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).

Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.

"You okay, Jen?"

She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.

“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.

You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.

She looks to be fighting an internal debate.

"I shot a kid."

She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.

“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.

You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.

"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."

Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.

"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."

You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.

Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.

"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."

Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.

"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."

You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.

"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."

At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.

"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.

"You know what he was saying?"

You don't move. Not even to shake your head.

"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."

Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.

"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."

You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.

You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.

"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.

"For what?"

"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.

"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”

"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.

"I could never look at you like that.”

She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"

You give her a weak smile in return.

"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."

Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.

"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."

You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."

She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.

You couldn't understand more.

And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.

“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”

Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.

“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”

Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.

“Tell me everything!”

You can’t tell her everything.

You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.

“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”

“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.

“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”

“See? I told you there was something to him.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”

“Did he mention me by any chance?”

You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.

“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”

Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.

Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.

You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.

The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.

It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.

///

You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.

A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.

You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.

You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.

A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.

“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.

Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.

“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.

He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.

“You wanna join me on my walk?”

Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.

You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.

You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.

You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.

You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.

You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.

Fuck.

What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.

You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.

The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.

Homemade pies.

Lavender soap.

Sunlight on a summer morning.

Joel’s eyes.

Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.

The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.

“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”

Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.

He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.

“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”

“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”

You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.

“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.

“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that.

“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.

"You said you were new to Jackson?"

"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."

“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.

“Really?”

“Sure. Follow me.”

The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.

But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.

“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”

"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"

"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."

"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"

"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"

"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"

They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.

Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.

People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.

You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.

“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”

“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”

“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”

You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”

“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.

“Can you make it back okay on your own?”

“I’m sure.”

You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.

“Do you ever draw portraits?”

“Of course,” Arthur nods.

“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”

“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”

///

You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.

“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.

“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”

“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”

Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.

You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.

"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."

"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”

“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”

This intrigues you to the point of distraction.

“You saw a picture of Sarah?”

Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.

“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”

“Joel must have been so happy.”

“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”

You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.

You just wish you could understand him.

You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.

“You still up for shooting?”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.

“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”

You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.

You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.

"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.

"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”

Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.

"Yeah I think I will."

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.

“That was amazing!”

“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.

You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.

“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”

“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.

“You’re too kind.”

Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.

“You sign those guns out?”

You and Luke spin to face the speaker.

Joel.

He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.

Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”

“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”

Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.

“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”

“Ammo too?”

“Yep.”

Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?

“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.

Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.

“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

///

Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.

There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.

He deserves it after all he went through last week.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.

"Hi, boy."

You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.

Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.

"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."

The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.

With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.

You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.

"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.

She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.

"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.

“Yeah, I can ride too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”

“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”

“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.

“Are you okay?-“

“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”

You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.

“Where? To your place?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”

You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?

Not a chance.

“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”

“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”

The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”

“A cake?”

You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.

“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”

This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.

“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”

Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.

You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.

“Chocolate cake okay?”

///

Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.

People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.

Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.

This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.

"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."

You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.

You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.

You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.

You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.

“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.

"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."

The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.

"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”

“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”

“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.

"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.

"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."

"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."

Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.

"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."

"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.

You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.

Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.

"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."

There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.

Joel.

You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.

A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.

You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.

"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."

Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.

"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.

"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."

The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.

"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.

Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.

His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.

"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"

There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.

"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."

You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.

"I didn't know he played."

"Me neither."

"Shhhh."

You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.

"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."

Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.

"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."

You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.

You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.

"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”

“Me too, I was-”

Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.

"Shhhh."

For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.

"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."

You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.

Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.

You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.

You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.

What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?

There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.

Fuck this.

You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.

"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.

"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.

“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”

“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.

Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.

"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."

It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.

But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?

Fuck him.

"With what, Joel? Your cock?”

Joel’s eyes fly open wide.

“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"

"Enough."

Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.

"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”

"Shut the fuck up."

You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.

No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.

Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.

"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"

You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.

There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.

And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.

Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.

“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”

Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.

You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.

Lust.

You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.

You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.

“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"

Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?

"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.

But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.

"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."

“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.

“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”

You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.

You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.

He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.

You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.

"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."

You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.

"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"

You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.

"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."

Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.

"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."

You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.

Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.

"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."

At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.

"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.

Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.

"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”

Just like that. Just like that.

Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.

“I know you can gimme another one.”

Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.

"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."

Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.

You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.

Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.

Your knees buckle.

He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.

"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."

You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.

Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.

The meeting is over.

Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.

“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.

He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.

You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.

What the fuck just happened?

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#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #so much to lose #slow burn

259 notes · View notes

deerlino · 14 hours

Note

Hey hey hey

Can i please request producer!grumpy! Chan x producer! Sunshine! Reader? Enemies-to-lovers?? Like chan has a bad first impression on reader and doesn't like her but like they get put together for work and he falls in love?? Can you make it really fluffy and domestic at the end (like they're in a r/s and like they kiss and cuddle alot????)

thawing the ice.

bang chan x fem!reader / at first, chan really didn’t like you and had a bad first impression of you. but then, you got teamed up for a project. spending time together changed everything, and he found himself falling for you.

additional tags / grumpy producer chan x sunshine producer reader (i mean… i tried. 😭), fluff, domestic fluff, forced proximity, mutual pining, workplace romance, love confessions, love-hate relationship, dislike to lovers — 1.5k words in total.

content warnings / kisses, smooches, and cuddles

authors notes @ anon / hey heyo anon <3, thanks for the awesome request! loved writing this. you asked for enemies to lovers, but the enemies part kinda fizzled out while i was writing—not my strongest trope, lol 😭 still, hope you enjoy it !! <3

You glance at your watch, groaning internally. It’s barely eight in the morning and you’re already heading to the studio for another day of work. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that you were going to be working closely with Chan. Again.

It’s not that you dislike Chan. Honestly, how could you? He’s talented, driven, and ridiculously handsome. But from the moment you met him, he’s been nothing but cold and dismissive. It’s like he’s made it his mission to make your life difficult.

As you walk into the studio, you see him already there, his back to you as he fiddles with some equipment. You take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face. “Morning, Chan!”

He doesn’t turn around. “Morning.”

You suppress a sigh. Another day, another brush-off.

You set your bag down and get to work, trying to ignore the icy atmosphere. The day drags on, the silence between you both filled with nothing but the hum of electronics and the occasional muttered curse from Chan.

Finally, after what feels like hours, you manage to get him to talk. “Hey, Chan, can you listen to this track? I think it needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised. “You want my opinion?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re one of the best producers here,” you say, trying not to sound too sarcastic. He might be a jerk, but you still need his input.

He listens to the track, his expression unreadable. “It needs more bass. And the vocals are too soft. They need to be more upfront.”

You nod, making notes. “Got it. Thanks.”

The rest of the day goes by in much the same way, but you notice something strange. Every time you ask for his help, he gives it without complaint. And every now and then, you catch him watching you, a strange look in his eyes.

***

As the weeks go by, things start to change. It’s subtle at first. He starts offering his help without being asked. He brings you coffee in the mornings, saying it’s just because he’s getting one for himself anyway. He even starts making small talk.

One day, as you’re both working late, he surprises you. “Hey, do you want to grab some dinner after this?”

You blink, taken aback. “Uh, sure. That sounds great!”

You end up at a little diner, talking and laughing like old friends. It’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile, and it takes your breath away.

“You know,” he says, looking down at his plate, “I don’t actually hate you.”

You laugh, but it’s a little shaky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He looks up, his eyes serious. “I’m... I’m not good at this. At feelings. I’ve liked you since the day we met, but I didn’t know how to act around you. I thought being distant would make it easier.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You like me?”

He nods, looking almost shy. “Yeah. A lot.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand. “I like you too, Chan. A lot.”

***

From that night on, things change even more. You’re not just coworkers anymore. You’re friends. And, slowly, you become something more.

There are late nights at the studio where he pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly as you work.

It’s nearly midnight, and you and Chan are the only ones left in the studio. The room is dimly lit, the glow from the computer screens casting a soft light over everything. You’re both exhausted, but there’s still work to be done. You’re hunched over your laptop, tweaking some last-minute details on a track, when you feel his presence behind you.

“Hey, take a break,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky from hours of talking and singing.

“I just need to finish this part,” you reply, not looking up. “Almost done.”

He sighs, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Alright, Miss Perfectionist.”

You hear him move around, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted out of your chair. “Chan!” you yelp, but he just laughs, pulling you into his lap as he sits back down.

“Relax,” he says, his arms wrapping around you. “You’ve been working too hard.”

You lean back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you need to take care of yourself too.”

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “And what about you? You’ve been working just as hard.”

He grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m taking care of myself right now.”

You smile, your heart fluttering. “Okay, fine. Five-minute break.”

“Good,” he says, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I need more of this.”

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his lips on your skin, the warmth of his arms around you. In that moment, all the stress and exhaustion melts away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Then, there are lazy Sundays spent cuddling on the couch, watching movies and stealing kisses.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re both sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. Chan’s arm is draped over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest. The movie is some cheesy rom-com, but neither of you are really paying attention. You’re too busy stealing kisses and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Hey, pay attention,” you say, swatting his hand away as he tries to tickle you. “This is the best part.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, his fingers brushing against your side again. “What happens?”

You laugh, trying to squirm away. “Stop! You’ll see.”

He grins, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

You settle back against him, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it. The late nights, the long hours, all of it. Because at the end of the day, you have this. You have him.

“You know,” he says suddenly, his voice soft, “I could get used to this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “What, lazy Sundays?”

He shakes his head, his eyes serious. “No. Us. Being together like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Me too.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he can’t put into words. And you know, without a doubt, that you feel the same way.

Then, there are also mornings where you wake up tangled together, his arms around you and his breath warm against your neck.

The first rays of sunlight are just starting to filter through the curtains when you wake up. You’re tangled in the sheets, Chan’s arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his body a comforting weight against yours.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to see his face. He looks so peaceful, so different from the grumpy, guarded man you met months ago. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face, and he stirs, his eyes slowly opening.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling. “Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do when you’re here.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Only for you.”

You laugh, rolling over to face him. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “Lucky me.”

You lean in, kissing him softly. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You smile, your heart feeling like it might burst. “I love you too.”

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. With him. Always.

***

One evening, as you’re sitting on a bench at the park together, he turns to you, his expression serious. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You make me want to be better. For you.”

You smile, your heart swelling. “You already are, Chan. You always have been.”

He kisses you, and it’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he’s never been able to say. And you know, without a doubt, that he loves you.

As the months go by, you can see the change in him. He’s still grumpy and a little rough around the edges, but there’s a softness to him now, a warmth that wasn’t there before. And you know that, no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you turn to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we ended up working together. Even if you were a jerk at first.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Me too. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For being a jerk.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You’re forgiven. Just... keep being you. That’s all I need.”

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that you’ve found something special. Something real. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

© deerlino (est. 090624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

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gojotojis · 24 hours

Text

Butterfly pt.2

part one

this story will contain mentions of sexual assault, part one contains sexual assault please do not read if this will trigger you.

summary: gojo helps you heal from a traumatic sexual experience by showing you what consensual sex is like and just how good it can make you feel.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

content MDNI: sexual assault mention, consensual sex, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), praise kink, squirting, fingering, friends to loversish, healing, trauma, soft gojo, girl obsessed gojo, yearning, angst, protected sex

I am in no way romanticizing or gloryfing sexual assault, this is how I’m choosing to cope with my trauma. Any and all hate will be blcoked.

November

Gojo immediately regrets asking, he goes to wipe your tears but stops himself. The atmosphere has shifted, and he doesn’t know what to do or say. You have this strong urge to hug him and hope he hugs back, making you feel safe but that voice reminds you how horrid men can be.

“No,” you answer his question and you feel like heaving up the little bits of pizza you ate. You feel dirty and disgusting, wanting to crawl out of your own skin.

Before you can think, you’re climbing into his lap. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, he’s stiff, completely taken by surprise as your inner conscience screams at you to get off him, to not let him touch you.

You should tense when his fingers trail up your spine, rubbing gently as his other hand holds the back of your head. It feels nice, to be held and treated so softly.

“You can talk to me, you can trust me,” he says, the urge to tell someone the truth I so strong but you’re scared he’ll think of you as disgusting or blame you for what happened.

His fingers thread through your hair until he’s massaging your scalp, and you sigh at the feeling. You’ve been craving physical touch for so long but it’s terrified you until now, until him.

You slowly look up at him, eyes locking with his through his glasses. You’re not sure if it’s depravation or desperation that makes you kiss his lips but you do.

Rejection hits you when he pulls you off of him, gently setting you beside him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, looking at your lap. The only friendship you have, potentially ruined.

“It’s okay, I should probably go,” he says and you nod, following him to the door.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

End of November

It’s been almost four weeks, since you’ve heard from him. He doesn’t text you, he doesn’t ask for a stupid little song even though you’ve made a list of them for everyday he’s missed.

You feel horribly sad, eyes lingering on the bottle of vodka sitting in front of you.

It also been four weeks since you’ve had a drink or touched drugs. A toxic cycle you’re trying to break, you’re not addicted to it. You like the numbness it brings, like an outlet or a cure to some sick disease festering inside of you.

Salem meows, making you look away. You crouch down and lift him up into your arms. He nuzzles against you, as you lay down on the couch.

You feel sick, utterly sick at how you managed to ruin the one good thing in your life. Why would he want to kiss you, someone so tainted and broken, someone so hideous.

The urge to break your lease and move away seems like the only reasonable option, even though deep down you know it’s insane.

How could you be so stupid? Why do you have to ruin everything?

Beginning of December Gojos Birthday.

The cold air nips at your skin, but you enjoy the walk home from work. Her Way by PartyNextDoor fills your ears, AirPods hidden under your black earmuffs.

You hiss as your ungloved hand reaches the freezing metal handle of the door to your building. You yank it open and rush inside, shivering.

Mrs. Tomioka stands by the mailboxes and smiles at you. You pause your music as her lips part.

“Oh dear, you need to layer up more,” she says staring at you dressed in nothing but leggings, a hoodie and fur boots. You simply nod, turning to walk away.

“How’s the cat?” she asks and your brows furrow.

“What?” You ask, she lives two floors above you and you’ve never mentioned Salem to her.

“The one your neighbor bought off me?” She asks.

“Gojo?”you ask and she nods.

“The little black cat he insisted I give to him. Someone had already bought him so he doubled it,” she says and your heart feels strange in your chest.

“You must have the wrong person, he said he found the kitten” you say and she shakes her head.

“No honey, it was him. The one with the blindfold, he said there was a girl in desperate need of a friend,” she says and you feel dizzy. You walk away from her, climbing up the stairs trying to process her words.

You find yourself walking to his door, hands gently knocking.

You feel a sense of euphoria when the door opens only it’s not Gojo. The woman you always see with him opens the door and stares at you. Your expression turns solem as she looks at you curiously.

“Is Gojo here?” You ask and she nods.

“He’s in the shower,” she says, your eyes catch the balloons with Happy Birthday written across them.

“It’s his birthday?” You ask and she nods.

“Thank you,” you say, walking toward your door and she closes his.

You pull out your phone and text him ‘Happy Birthday!’.

He doesn’t respond.

Mid December

The rooms dark as you curl into a ball, Salem nestled against your chest. Your anxiety’s so bad, you just want it to go away. Salems purring as your fingers run along his spine, grounding you. He’s the only thing keeping you afloat.

A light knock at your door has you blinking, you want to yell at them to go away but you’re drained of all energy.

The knocking continues, making Salem jump down from the bed. Annoyance fills you as you follow the kitten toward the front door, lifting him into your arms.

You don’t bother checking the peephole as you open it, so many feelings hit you as you stare at the man in front of you. Sadness, anger, confusion, yearning, it all hits you.

“Hi,” he says and your eyes sting. Salem fights to jump into his arms, so enthralled by the tall man.

You close the door and he doesn’t stop you.

“I just want to talk,” he says through the door as you set the cat down.

“I can explain,” he says but you don’t want to hear it. He’s like every man, they make you feel good until they don’t anymore.

He had promised not to hurt you and he lied, the organ beating in your chest hurts so badly because of him.

“Please go,” you whisper weakly, accepting that it’s over and he does.

December 22nd

Four messages hit your phone, Happy Birthday texts from your siblings, mom and grandma. You simply thank them with a heart emoji. You despise your birthday, another reminder of everything you’ve failed to accomplish in the previous year and how alone you are.

A knock at the door has you sighing, expecting the hideous daisies your grandma always sends you. You’re grateful and don’t have the heart to tell her how much you hate them.

The door swings open and you audibly gasp. Gojo stands there with his blindfold off and piercing blue irises stare into the depths of your soul. He’s beautiful, more so than you had conjured in your head.

“X & Y” he says and your head tilts, brows furrowing.

“What?” You ask.

“X & Y by Coldplay, that’s our song” he says, your chest tightens, you’ve heard it a million times.

I dive in at the deep end

You become my best friend

I want to love you but I don't know if I can

I know something is broken

And I'm trying to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way I can

“It’s just a song,” you say and he shakes his head.

“Nothings just a song to you, it’s everything, it’s us” he says absolutely serious, blue eyes pinning yours.

“You kissed me and I couldn’t think, you’ve slowly become my bestfriend and that scared me. I had a bestfriend once, and he died… I thought I’d be sparing you from the horror that is my life because I don’t want to lose another friend, not you. But I saw you, hidden behind the music, spiraling and so scared. I saw you and never in my life have I wanted anything more,” he says, you stand there frozen trying to make sense of his words.

“You ignored me, made me feel unwanted, ashamed and so sad,”you whisper, eyes watering. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek against his palm.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’ve never done this. And I know you’re too good for me, a better person than I’ll ever deserve but I’m just a guy desperately wanting a girl, the girl, to talk to him again” he says . His words are so foreign to your ears, so full of adoration, need and genuinuity.

“You missed the songs,” you say as he steps closer.

“I’m sorry” he breathes looking down at you.

“You didn’t answer my texts” you whisper, as he enters the apartment.

“Hardest thing I ever did”.

“You lied to me about Salem,” you say and he shuts the door, your hearts beating so fast, too fast that you fear it’ll give out.

“You needed him,” he whispers, hands cupping your face and he kisses you.

This kiss sends shocks throughout your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The hairs on your arms stand up and your pupils dilate. His tongue prods against your lips and you open them, feeling his mouth hungrily lap at yours.

Your nails dig into the muscles of his arms, nipples hardening and core aching. Nothing but your mingled breaths, fill the apartment.

His hands slide down to your ass and you tense. You still against him and he stops, his forehead pressed against yours. His hands pin to your waist.

“I won’t hurt you, not ever,” he says and you nod, tears sliding down your cheeks. You want this to be real, to believe him.

“Pick a word. Any word, you use it and this all stops,” he says.

“Butterfly” you whisper, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It’s sweet and gentle, this is Gojo, he won’t hurt you.

He pulls you down to the couch with him, straddling his waist. Nerves prickle at you, his fingers skimming the naked skin of your arms. You can feel the bulge underneath you and your eyes close.

“You’re safe,” he whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” he says, lips brushing your cheek. The safety net he’s created around you, creates warmth in your belly.

His lips brush against your neck, soft wet kisses trailing along the smooth column. You moan as he sucks at the skin, fingers gripping the wrist that hold your waist.

“Do you want me touch you?” he asks and you nod against him, you haven’t felt this kind of desire in your life, it outweighs your fear. You trust him.

“Show me where”he says and you redden, unsure of what he means. Your hand grabs his and he looks at you.

“Here” you say shyly, pressing his hand against your core. His hand moves against you, palm digging into your cloth covered pussy but the pressure feels so good. You bite your lip, face scrunching and it makes him painfully harder. He stops and you worry, but he fingers graze the waist band of your shorts.

“Is it okay if we take these off?” He asks and you nod, slowly standing up so he can slide them down you. You look down, nervous. The words fat, ugly, slut and whore resonate and your chest constricts. He kneels down infront of you, fingers grazing the hem of your tank top. He lifts it off and tosses it, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You fight the urge to cover yourself and hide.

“So beautiful,” he whispers looking up at you, and you sigh when his lips meet your belly. He peppers the flesh with kisses, every touch going to your core.

He gently moves you so you can sit back on the couch. Your chest heaves watching him kneeling before you. His fingers grip the edge of your panties, and you watch him slide them down. Your legs close and his large hands press against your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” He asks and you nod.

His eyes don’t leave yours as his hands pry you open. He looks at your pussy with lust and awe, fingers grazing through your folds and you buck against them.

His thumb grazes your clit and you cry, eyes locked on his.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” He asks and you nod, watching his thumb circle your clit and feel a long and thick finger, push inside of you. Your hands clutch at the couch cushions, desperate to claw at the flesh of his arms.

“Relax, gonna stretch you out” he whispers and you nod, trying your best to calm down despite the sensation inside of you. Your face morphs into discomfort when he adds a second finger, his movements slow down to let you adjust.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your clit for distraction and your eyes widen. Your fingers slide through his scalp and tug at the white silky strands when his tongue pokes your clit.

The feeling of his fingers become pleasurable and you grind against them, gasping when you feel his wet tongue drag across your pussy. It’s too much, you feel like you’re going to die.

His tongue flicks across your clit over and over until his mouth devours your pussy entirely, sucking it and lapping the juices that leak from you. You flush red as you grind against his face, chasing the end of what the knot in your stomach promises.

He groans against you and it vibrates your pussy making you cry out as you cum, his fingers speeding up their pace as he drags out your orgasm. Your legs shaking as your thighs try to close. He lazily licks at you, sending little aftershocks through you.

When he’s done, he presses several kisses to your cunt and then your inner thighs, to your belly and the valley between your breast until he’s kissing your lips. Everything about this is so erotic, you feel so high off of your release and how good he makes you feel.

He pulls back and his forehead presses against yours.

“Did you like it?” He asks and you nod, watching him grab your clothes. He chuckles as he slides your panties up and then your shorts. You raise your arms and he slides the tank top over you.

“Happy birthday” he whispers against your lips. You have no idea how he knows but you don’t care.

“Thank you,” you smile up at him.

“I have your gifts in my apartment,” he says making you feel tingly inside.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, “ you say, you feel horrible you didn’t get to see him on his birthday or even talk to him but that was his fault.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and walks out the front door. You rush to your room, and reach for the stupid thing you had made him. You feel doubt, he may hate it but it comes from your heart.

You sigh, looking at Salem curled into a ball on your bed and grab the cd. You close the door and see Gojo with several packages… you deflate. You’re actually the worst gift giver in the world.

“I know we didn’t get to see eachother for your birthday but I made you this which seems quite lame now. I know everything’s digital but I wanted you to have something physical,” you say handing him the blue wrapped gift.

He opens it and you swallow, as he stares at the cover. He laughs at the picture of Pearl with her pitchfork and turns it over to see the songs listed. His finger stills on track number seven.

“X & Y” he reads aloud and you nod.

“I told you we share the same brain” he says before kissing you, his arms circling your waist and lifting you off the ground. You smile against him.

You’re not use to this kind of affection, it feels overwhelming. It makes you want to just burst at the seams.

“I love it,” he says putting you down.

“Your turn,” he says gesturing toward the bigger box on the coffee table. You nervously touch the pink wrapping paper and rip it. You swallow roughly, staring at the white audio technica record player. You reach for the thinly stacked pile of gifts and open them revealing record after record of your favorite albums. Your throat feels raw, tears pricking your eyes and you look up at him.

Your arms wrap around him and squeeze him like if you let go he’ll be gone. Tears soak his shirt as his arms hug back, his lips press against the top of your head.

“Seemed like something you’d like” he said and you nodded. You wanted to collect vinyls but it’s such an expensive hobby, so you held off.

“Thank you, for everything”.

Beginning of January

Gojo: song ?

You: Coming Down, The Weeknd

Gojo: you’re freaky

You blush at the text.

You: aren’t you suppose to be working?

Gojo: I’d rather talk to you, let me see you

You hesitantly open your camera app, trying not to let the insecurities get to you as you snap a picture of you smiling and send it.

Gojo: so fucking pretty

Your insides stir at the compliment, you love the way he makes you feel. Fear tries to crawl its way up at the thought of this being taken away. It’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop because how could someone so beautiful be into you?

Mid January

Gojo wants to take you on a date but he’s aware of your anxiety, the way you hide behind your music when in public to avoid social interactions.

You love it just being the two of you, no expectations no pressure, just the two of you in this little bubble.

“Gojo?” You ask watching him eat his General tso on the couch and you eat your bourbon chicken across from him.

“What was your bestfriends name?” You ask and he stills. You hope you’re not crossing a line but you want to know everything about him, the good and the bad.

“Suguru Geto,” he says, his voice cracks and you look down at your lap.

“How’d he die?…” you ask, the room is silent as he thinks of what to say.

“Car accident” he lies to you, one day he’ll tell you the truth but he doesn’t want you to look at him differently, not now and not ever.

“I’m sorry, if you ever want to talk about it I’m here,” you say with sincerity, hand reaching to touch his. His fingers lace with yours and he stares at you, blue orbs in awe.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks and you nod, dreading what it is.

“What happened to you?”he asks, your fingers tremble as you look down at your lap. Your lips move and you speak, your ears block out every word, every detail that leaves you as tears roll down your cheeks. You avoid his reaction, you can’t bare for him to look at you differently.

When it’s done, your chest hurts like it’s being crushed.

You feel yourself being lifted, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as they wrap around his waist. Your arms fall over his shoulders and your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t realize you’re shaking against him as he presses kisses to your face.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, trying to not think of you so scared and vulnerable. How someone could hurt you and be so cruel to you.

He carries you to his room and you fall asleep against his chest, his fingers grazing your back as he promises nothing bad will ever happen to you again.

Beginning of February

Your fingers grip the recliner, absolutely scared. You’ve never felt this scared from a movie but god it’s fucking brutal and you love it.

Gojo laughs as you jump from the chair in shock, he’s never seen you this animated.

“Christ…” you breathe watching the possessed girl stab her brother.

“It’s just a movie, baby” Gojo whispers, grateful he rented the movie theatre out. Even though he loves your reactions, popcorn would’ve been thrown at you by now.

“My stomach hurts” you whine.

“That’s anxiety,” he chuckles squeezing your hand. The jump scares are too much and you bury your face in his side. Your hands covers your face, eyes peeking through your fingers. You’re definitely sleeping at his place tonight, there’s no way you’re gonna be home alone after this.

Once the movies over, your hand grips his for dear life trying to process what the fuck you just watched.

“I assume you didn’t like it” he says.

“I loved it!” You answer, surprising him. Evil dead rise now easily one of the best horror movies you’ve seen in a long time.

He laughs as he holds your joined hands up to his lips. You both walk through the mall, stopping when Gojo sighs and you spot three teenagers staring at you with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

“Sensei!” A pink haired boy shouts running up to you.

“You have a girlfriend?” The spiky haired boy with him asks, looking to Gojo.

“She’s too pretty to be his girlfriend” the girl shakes her head.

“What are you three doing here?” He asks them.

“Following you,” the pink haired boy says like it’s the most normal answer.

“Yuji said you’ve been acting weird, so we decided to see for ourselves. Hi, I’m Nobara Kugisaki!” The girl says holding her hand out to you and you shake it.

“That’s Yuji, and that’s Megumi,” she says pointing to the boys beside her. Yuji smiles but Megumi simply looks bored. You instantly recognize them as Gojo’s students he had told you about.

“We were going to eat, did you want to join us?” You ask.

“No!” Gojo says.

“Yes!” Nobara and Yuji beam.

The five of you fall in step to the little pizza place inside the mall. Yuji and Nobara ask you a million questions while Gojo scowls beside Megumi.

You all find a table and order a half and half cheese and pepperoni pizza and then a Hawaiian pizza.

“He got you a cat?!” Nobara asks and you nod, pulling your phone out to show her pictures of Salem. She gushes, and smiles at Gojo.

“I wish someone would get me a cat?” She sighs taking a bite of her cheese pizza.

“The last thing you need is a cat” Gojo says and Megumis lips tug upward.

“How long have you guys been dating?” Yuji asks and your cheeks redden.

“Is this an interrogation?” Gojo asks and you chuckle, he seems annoyed by them but you can tell he loves them.

Gojo’s grateful when it’s over and you two are in his apartment after grabbing Salem from yours. Salem runs rampant around Gojo’s place.

“I love them” you say referring to his students and he smiles, pecking your lips.

“They’re a handful but they’re good kids, really good kids”.

March

You tense into Gojo’s side, his fingers gently grazing up and down your arm. It’s innocent but you feel it all around you. He hasn’t initiated anything since your birthday and you kind of wish he would.

The idea of sex doesn’t seem so scary since he made it enjoyable for you. He stares at the movie on the screen as you think about his head between your legs, his tongue licking at you. Your fingers dig into your thigh, and it’s like you can feel his fingers inside of you. A fire starts in your belly and you look up at him, he can feel your eyes on him and his brows furrow.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Can you touch me?” you ask.

“I am,” he says, fingers tapping against your arm and you turn red.

“Down there” you whisper and feel him pull away from you. You fear you’ve ruined this routine you’ve fallen into but feel him lifting you up. You laugh as he tosses you over his shoulder and walks you to his room.

Your hearts in your ears, unsure of what will happen but you need to feel his skin against yours.

He sets you on the bed and you stare up at him with eager eyes.

“Safe word?” He asks.

“Butterfly” you say.

“Good girl” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I’m gonna undress you now” he says and you nod, standing up so he can take your clothes off. The rooms dark but the moonlight gives enough lighting for him to see your body. His hands glide up your sides, squeezing your hips.

Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging on it to let him know you want it off. You desperately want to see him. He smiles and lifts it up and over his head. Your stomach clenches at the sight of his muscled body and abs but the trail of white hair leading down into his pants makes your toes curl into the carpet.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and his hand grabs yours, pressing it against his stomach. Your fingers burn under the heat of his skin, sliding over the toned ridges of his body. He’s so warm you want to feel him against you.

“You’re so pretty”you tell him and he kisses you, his tongue finding home in your mouth, devouring you entirely. You moan against him, feel his fingers touch your clit. He bites your lips, rubbing against the bud and your face scrunches. A gasp escapes you when you feel his finger enter you, gently pushing you down onto the bed.

His finger fucks into you at a gentle yet deep pace, he wants you to enjoy this despite how badly he wants to fuck you into the mattress. His thumb works circles into your clit and your hips push forward, taking him deeper in you.

He adds a second finger and you cry, his pace slightly increasing but the fullness has you gripping the comforter as you writhe against him.

“Cum baby, you can do it” he encourages and you do when his fingers push against this one spot that has your eyes rolling back. You twitch against him he withdraws his fingers, your nipples become painfully hard as he takes them in his mouth.

“The sweetest girl” he says licking at them. He grabs your clothes and you stop him, kneeling up on the bed.

“I want more” you say nervously.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you nod, your trembling fingers reach for his belt, eyes locked on his as you undo it. Your fingers drag his zipper down and stop, anxiety crawls up. You feel like you’re going to throw up, he sees it and presses his forehead against yours.

“It’s me and you, you control this. One word and it stops, I won’t do anything you don’t want to” he says and you nod, kissing his cheek.

“Can you do it?” You ask and he nods, pushing you back down. You stare at the ceiling, listening to him undress and your throat bobs.

It’s Gojo, he would never hurt you.

He grabs a condom from the bed side drawer and tears it open with his teeth. You don’t look down, scared you’ll want this to stop. He rolls the condom on and spreads your legs open. Your heart is beating inhumanly fast.

“Let me take care of you” he says before pressing kisses to your inner thighs, easing the tension out of you. You whimper when you feel him kiss your clit before he crawls on top of you.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod, feeling the head of his cock nudge at your opening. He feels too big as he tries to ease inside, and he see the panic in your eyes. He kisses your cheeks, hesitant to continue but you nod letting him know it’s okay. You want this, you want him.

The stretch is painful as he inches further inside of you, tears fall from your eyes and he feels so much guilt pressing kisses to every tear until he’s bottoming out inside of you.

You feel so full, but he doesn’t move, letting you adjust. His thumb circles your clit and you moan, squeezing around him. He groans at the feel of you choking the life out of his dick.

He hasn’t had sex in three years, something you don’t know and he doesn’t want to fuck this up by cumming before you do.

“You’re squeezing the life out of me baby, gotta relax” he says.

“I’m sorry” you squeak and he kisses you.

“It feels really good, but I gotta take care of you first” he assures you and you nod. Your mouth opens when he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in, he hits something deep inside of you and you tremble slightly.

He continues this slow thrusting, feeling your nails drag across his back. Milky white skin turning red.

He’s trying his best not to lose control but his thrusts become faster and you cry, feeling his hand press down on your stomach. He grunts with every thrust, sending heat to your pussy as you grip him like a vice.

“You’re doing so good baby,” he says knocking into your cervix and you both moan as his body crushes against yours, arms wrapping around you. He fucks into you over and over feeling you shake around him. You feel this strange sensation, like something is begging to release from you. He knocks into your cervix again and you sob, feeling yourself cum around him, liquid gushing out of you and you feel mortified.

“I’m sorry” you say as he stills inside of you, your thighs now wet.

“You squirted baby, it’s okay. Can you do it again?” He asks, you’re not sure but you nod and he moves inside of you, thrust harder and faster as he ruts into you, he grabs your hand and places it over your belly underneath his.

You feel the bulge he’s making inside of you, feel his cock moving inside of you under your skin and it sends you over the edge, cumming like your life depends on it and he grunts, fucking into you until he’s cumming too. He pulls out and rolls you over to lay on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks and you smile up at him.

“I think I love you” you say and he laughs.

“I know I love you,” he says back.

“You do?” You ask and he nods.

“I knew it the moment you saw Salem in my arms, like for the first time, there was something worth caring about,” he says, your fingers tracing circles into his chest.

“I think you’re healing me” you say.

“I think we’re healing eachother” he says pressing his lips to your temple.

“All I want is you. I want this everyday, forever, you, me and salem” he says, and you smile. You press a kiss to his sternum.

“You, me and Salem”.

I’ll do grammar check later, I was trying to get this out asap! thanks for reading! Also I didn’t mention it but it’s canon that gojo lied about needing eggs, milk and sugar just as an excuse to talk to her!

@kakashixhatakesxwhore @erensblackwife

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #toji fushigro x reader #salemgojo #choso x reader #geto suguru #choso kamo #gojo smut #sukuna au #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna

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esmedelacroix · 2 days

Text

All the ways I defy you.

pairing: exboyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: Since the end of your relationship, Miguel has been acting strange. At home, at work, and even around his own friends. He even goes so far as to break work rules all, for you?

cw: very angsty, depressive behaviors, tiny suggestive part

a/n: Hey! Just wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on the first part I uploaded a while ago! This is coming to you very late I know. I was a bit stressed with finals and moving out of my dorm. Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it! A comment, like, or repost is always appreciated.

previous part | miguel masterlist

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

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

Of course, when I thought that I could rid her of my life for good, the universe sent her flying in my direction. I do not want to be near her. Not because I hate her but because I know I make her upset. I don't want her to be around someone she associates terrible feelings with(me). Yet there she was drenched at our front door.

"I'm currently on the hunt for an apartment, but I didn't know this was going to happen—so—sniff—I'll have to stay here for a while. Is that okay?" my sweet girl asked as she averted her eyes. Drenched in rain, runny mascara, and her tears. Voice quivering and body shaking.

"Yes, of course, yeah, come in," I responded a bit too quickly, opening my door wider for her to enter. I stepped aside and rummaged through the bathroom getting her a warm fluffy towel.

"Um, I'll take the couch so you can sleep in our—my room," I said, correcting myself. Which only made her tears spill more.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, you'll catch a cold if you don't," I assured.

"Do you even care?" she muttered under her breath.

Yes, Of course I do baby you're my everything.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything," I sighed.

. . .

Sleeping uncomfortably on your couch is not for that week. But that didn't compare to the feeling of hearing my ex-girlfriend crying herself to sleep in the bed we once shared. Our physical proximity was so close. All I had to do was get up, open the door, and cuddle her. Tell her everything is going to be okay.

How can one be so close to someone but so far at the same time? The paradox of my situation with my ex-girlfriend tore my heart, mind, and body apart.

Just then her cries and sniffs died down and I could hear her familiar soft snore that she swore she didn't have. When I closed my eyes to sleep, the first thought that came to my head was her. Her sleeping form. How peaceful her face looked. The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. My perfect girl was the first and last thing I thought about. Her mere existence in my imagination had lulled me to sleep. Fuck, I made a mistake letting her go, I thought to myself.

. . .

"Hobie Brown," I said sternly.

"I already know, I get it, but things happen, mate," he shrugged, foreseeing the lecture he was about to receive from me.

"No, I don't think you 'get it' because you broke one of the only three key rules you have to follow here," I interjected.

"Just let him off the hook this time," Gwen interrupted.

"No. I can't. You, Miles, and Pavitr could learn from this as well. Don't disrupt the canon, report to me after every single mission, and never, ever, ever leave your post," I lectured.

"What if something important happens?" Miles questions.

"Nothing is more important than keeping the canon intact," I snapped.

"At this rate, you and your girlfriend will break up before I finish my written report. She must really enjoy your relationship; If you could even call it that," Hobie smirked as he walked away.

That shut me up. Because what he predicted was not far from reality. Are my rules too much? I couldn't say anything back to him because he might have been correct. For the first time ever Hobie Brown got the last word. The rest of the afternoon I reflected on myself and my rules. Not leaving your post is important, I told myself.

. . .

"I got your text," Peter B sighed as he took a seat next to Miguel in the cafeteria.

"You broke up with her?" he asked, quivering a brow.

"Yeah, it was just too much," I sighed, rubbing my hand along my face.

"What do you mean? She's like the best thing to ever happen to you. The first time I ever saw you genuinely laugh was the day you brought her to work and she kept cracking the worst dad jokes. And you're telling me you broke up with her?" he rambled.

"Peter, I was making her unhappy," I admitted.

"Then just stop making her unhappy. It's as easy as that. Knowing her, she probably communicated what was bothering her with you too," he said sternly.

"I can't just stop following protocol," I said, stating the obvious.

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," Peter sighed. My lungs felt like they had been attacked by a million bees. Palms were sweating buckets at the mere thought of experiencing my baby Gabriella disappear in my arms again. Her painful screams filled my ears. The grief-stricken reality that her daddy, her "hero", couldn't save her. Amid my miniature panic attack, Peter placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Successfully pulled me from the nightmare I was reliving back into the present.

"But, Peter, Gabi, I—I can't let that happen again. What if a parent, just like me and you, loses their kid the same way I did? I just-I can't do it. I have to keep the canon undisturbed," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Miguel, that isn't going to happen again, you have us now. You have help," Peter said a little softer, noticing that he hit a nerve.

"I would never forgive myself if millions of families, partners, and could-have-been end or cease to exist because of me," I admitted.

"Miguel, if you were to leave your post, you would have someone fill in for you. You give yourself all of these extra jobs that you don't need to be doing," Peter insisted.

"But if I don't do it, someone's going to make a mistake," I insisted.

"Or you can trust in the people that you hand-picked for this job," Peter suggested.

"It's more complicated than that," I rebutted.

"No, it really isn't. You're just making it more complicated. You need to trust in your team," he finished.

"And maybe get your girl back?" he suggested as he got up to get Mayday from Gwen's lap to go change her diapers.

. . .

You called out of work sick. Truthfully, you were glued to the bed. You didn't have the desire to get up or do much of anything. You hadn't showered that morning or eaten breakfast. All you did was stare at the ceiling, out the window, and the framed photo of you and Miguel that he hadn't put away yet.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes swelled to oblivion, and your stomach was empty and practically eating itself. The refrigerator called out to me but I didn't answer. I couldn't. Does he even care like I do? You asked yourself.

Staring blankly at the limewash accent wall of your once-shared room that you were considered a guest in. Just then your phone rang. You shot up and immediately checked who it was. You shamelessly smiled when the contact name "my miguel 💕" popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button after taking a deep breath.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi, you're probably at work right now, sorry to be a bother," he started.

"No, not at all. I called out today. I've been feeling under the weather," you assured.

"Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner? I'm going to get Chinese takeout tonight," he said.

"Yeah, I'll have whatever you're having," you responded.

"Okay, I'll be back around 7:00 with dinner. You know where the medicine is, take care of yourself please," he assured.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you," you replied before hanging up first.

He told you he'd be home around seven but you didn't count on it. He broke most promises anyway.

You decided to finally shower and have a small snack. You sat on the couch with your Kindle in hand. The couch smelled like him. The throw pillows smelled like his lavender-scented shampoo. You couldn’t help but wrap yourself in the blankets he had used the night before. It didn’t compare his hugs but it was good enough for now.

You spent some time reading some romance novels. Putting yourself in the shoes of the heroine and pretending that the love interest was him. Pretending that it was Miguel who ran all the way to your house while it was raining to hold you and wipe your tears in the dead of the night. Instead, you sat in your living room wondering whether or not he would actually do that for you.

You heard keys in the door and it opened soon after. You got up and slowly approached it with a pillow in hand as a weapon. You had no idea who could be dropping by the apartment at this time. Just then Miguel turned the corner takeout in hand and you wound up to hit the perpetrator. “Whoa calm down, it’s just me,” Miguel chuckled.

You let out a long exhale in relief. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so early,” he sighed as you put the pillow back on the couch.

“What do you mean? I said I’d be here around this time and you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be expecting you’,” he teased.

“Well I’m just kind of used to you saying things and not delivering,” you said under your breath loud enough for him to hear as you helped him unpack the food he got and set it on the living room coffee table.

“Well I decided to be less of a dick today,” he quipped.

“Should’ve done that when we were still together,” you answered half-joking.

He gave you an apologetic look. His mouth opened then closed. Like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Like he always did. I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been pretty shitty huh?” he said with a pained expression on his face.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured taking a seat next to him.

He put something random on Netflix to watch while you got water for the two of you. As usual, he never read the synopsis of anything he watched and accidentally put on 365 days. Classic Miguel. “Oh god, this is a bit inappropriate,” he commented, almost choking on his lo mien.

“It’s nothing we’ve never done before,” you smirked.

You watched his cheeks flush out of the corner of your eyes. He hugged the my melody plush you had gifted him a while ago a little tighter. He adjusted his glasses sheepishly.

You recalled the time you asked him about his glasses. Him being ashamed when he admitted that he needed to use glasses whenever he looked at a screen because played too many video games as a kid.

Suddenly, the TV blended in with all the other noises in the background. The sounds of cars honking on the streets outside the window, the rain constantly hitting the top of the air conditioner, the soft hum of the drying machine, and the—tick—tock—of the clock on the wall.

It was just you and Miguel in that room then. Stealing glances at each other. Contemplating whether or not you should release the many unspoken words bottled up inside. “I’m moving out in 2 days. I found a place,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, that’s….great. Seriously, good for you,” he says looking away. What you didn’t know was that Miguel wasn’t congratulating you. He was trying to convince himself that you leaving was a good thing. That it was good for you and for him. That it was everything he wanted.

You could hear the pain in his voice and although you could see his face. You knew the downcast expression that was painted on it.

. . .

Two days went by way too quickly. Two days of sleeping on the couch. Two days of coming home early and on time to spend time with my loved ones before she left. Two days of baking sweet treats while we watched Romance movies. Two days of soaking in her presence before it was completely gone from my life.

As soon as I knew it, that morning when I decided to help her move her things out instead of going to work. I put Jess in charge of the morning instead which she was ecstatic about.

Once the final box was loaded in the moving truck we faced each other at the front door. The front door I’ve her drunk body through. The front door we used to kiss at when we couldn’t wait to get in our house. The front door she knocked at with all of her stuff when we decided to move in together. The front door where I would chase after her after an argument. The front door I revealed I was Spiderman at. The front door she came to drenched with rain in tears the day I broke up with her. Which was now the front door that we would say our last goodbyes at.

We looked into each other's eyes for a good 30 seconds. Tears filled her eyes and mine. "Just, come here big guy," she sighed, opening her arms to me.

I was hesitant. If I touched I was afraid I wouldn't want to let go and I would hold on forever. All I could control was the now. So I pushed those thoughts of fear away and I held her. Her arms wrapped around my waist. One of my hands rested on her back while the other was on the back of her head caressing her hair. For once I built up the courage to say what was on my mind without holding myself back. I took a deep breath in before admitting, "I'll miss you,"

"I still love you," she replied before letting go and walking out the door for the last time.

I heard the door click and it was final. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

. . .

I felt lighter as I walked down the hallway to my office. Memories of her still played endlessly in my head but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder when I took Peter's advice and split my jobs up with my coworkers.

Today most of the spider society would be in Pavitr's universe catching any extra anomalies that slipped under our radar. As well as closing the quantum hole that was starting to form. We had almost all hands on deck in this assignment and I would be leading it.

The mission reached a new height for us when a Prowler variant from a different universe was found. Gwen and I were on him while also trying to keep the streets and civilians safe. Peter joined us soon after he finished his task. Just when we had cornered him, my watch began to ring. The contact name appeared as "Mi Corazon" and my heart dropped. My heart dropped because the only way she could call me on my watch was with the emergency one I had made for her. She was in trouble. I looked around at Peter and Gwen and they both urged me to answer. "If you need to go, you should go," Peter said, fighting off the Prowler who took this as an advantage to strike.

"Don't worry about us, we got this," Gwen called out, giving Peter a hand while looking back at me.

"But, I can leave my post. I made that rule," I stuttered as the ringing of my watch heightened my nerves. Peter gave me a look

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," the words played through my head as the worst possible time.

I can't, I can't do it. I have to stay, I thought to myself.

"You should be able to," I told myself.

As I battled with myself in my head, Peter snapped me out of it. "Answer that call, Miguel. I'm sure you'll regret it later if you don't. We got it covered. Trust in us? Please?" he called out.

Every cell in my body and even my brain told me not to answer the call and not to leave my post. But every beat in my heart and whisper of my soul told me to answer the damn call. So I did.

. . .

I had never swung through the streets of Nueva York faster than I was now. Her little voice fueled me even though biologically I should have no energy right now.

"Miguel I need you, I need you right now,"

If a branch was in my way I simply swung through. They would hit my body and bruise me a bit but none of that mattered right now.

"Someone broke into my house,"

Tears began to form in my eyes wondering if she was okay. If she was safe. “ You still there baby?” I asked as I swung past building upon building.

“Yeah—sniff—I’m here,” she replied. I let out a relieved sigh.

“Just wait right there, baby. Stay on the line, I’m almost there,” I breathed out.

. . .

You didn’t expect him to drop everything at an important mission for you. That's why you didn’t tell him that you knew who robbed your house.

That’s why you didn’t tell him that your ex-boyfriend had texted you the moment he found you that you and Miguel split up. The same ex was the reason why Miguel had to help you tighten your home security before you moved in with him.

So when Miguel found you on the ground a mess with tears still streaming down your face. You felt as though you had to tell him. "This was Kyle wasn't it?" he asked.

"How'd you know?" you asked, looking up at him, his arms still wrapped around you.

"I had a bodyguard follow you around for a while just to make sure you were okay while I figured out a time to help you install some security here. They noticed a guy was loitering outside of your apartment building a lot but they assumed he was a resident," he explained.

"I'm sorry I called you for this, I'm a mess and you were doing something important, probably," you rambled.

"No, nothing is more important than your safety and your happiness," he interrupted.

"Miguel, you don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know how important holding the Spider-Verse together is to you," you admitted.

"You're more important. So much more important. I'd sit and watch the whole Spider-Verse crumble and burn as long as I’m watching it with you safe in my arms," he confessed, holding you tighter.

"I'm sorry I never told you that sooner. Or showed that in my actions when we were together. There hasn't been a single day I haven't thought about you since I first met you. I thought that by breaking up with you, you'd be happier and you'd be free of me. It's hard being in a relationship with me and it's even harder to love me because I'm so flawed," he continued.

All the things he wanted to say but never dared to say to you spilled out at once.

"I just didn't want you to think I'm weak," he admitted sheepishly.

Shock struck your face. He's been struggling so much and you didn't know. "Oh Miguel, I could never think that. You are the strongest man I know. Once I had to bike up a very steep hill to get a bandage for my little brother who scraped his knee, it was really hard. Another time, I took a test that had 120 multiple-choice questions and two essays in two hours. That—was really hard. But the easiest thing I've ever had to do..." you started as you cupped his cheeks with both of your hands.

"...is love you. It's a pleasure—to love you, Miguel. You are not an inconvenience to me" you assured.

The two of you held each other on the floor of your trashed apartment. For the first time out of many to come, Miguel defied his protocols and the canon for you. He challenged his way of being for you. And he conquered his fear of opening up all to be a better man for you.

"I know it's hard for you to talk to me about what goes on in your head, and we'll work on it but this is a really good start. Thank you," you said.

"Does this mean we're back together? You really want to be with me after all this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," you chuckled.

"I love you to the moon and back," he sighed.

. . .

to be continued ?

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

taglist: @truth-dare-spin-bottles @hobiebrowns-wife @lazyjellyfish300 @scaryplanetdestroyer @lauraolar14 @reader-1290 @prettygirleli @spicydonut25

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 day

Text

✨Falling For You (Again)✨

Angel!Lucifer x f!angel reader ➡️ Lucifer x f!fallen angel reader

Summary: You and Lucifer were the best of friends up in Heaven with eons of history between the two of you. But when the first woman catches his eye, your heart couldn’t help but ache…

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, light tail play, oral (f receiving), p in v

It was no secret that you and Lucifer shared a special bond. You two were as close as friends could be. It was a little odd to be fair; a seraphim and a virtue were definitely an unusual pair. Nonetheless, neither of you cared what the rest of Heaven thought of you. You did your best to ignore the rumors that were floating about; saying your bond with Lucifer ran deeper than just a friendship. It wasn't true, of course, and those relationships were heavily discouraged by the Elders. Neither of you would dare consider stirring up trouble...more than you already have, that is.

Separately, the two of you were considered "mischievous" as Sera would say. But together, you created a whirlwind of ideas and spectacles that would land the both of you with serious reprimand more than once. You tried your best to behave, but Lucifer brought out the worst, or perhaps the best, in you. You were the only one who believed in his dreams and his passions, and he was more than encouraging when he asked about your ideas for creation. It was heartbreaking when you learned that he had been left out of the creation of the new world. To you, his ideas were not dangerous as many others believed, but inspired. When Lucifer told you that he wanted to see Earth for himself, you covered for him, as any good friend would do. His visits became more and more frequent, and your lies became less and less believable.

Every time Lucifer returned from Earth, he would go on and on for hours about the wonderful and fantastical things he'd seen. But what he wanted to talk about most was the human woman, Lilith. You had witnessed for yourself how the human man Adam had treated her; demanding control and with no regard for anything but himself. He was selfish, you believed Lilith was right for fleeing the garden. You hoped that the new human woman Eve would fare better. Lucifer had found Lilith and immediately was enraptured with her. You were happy for him. Mostly. There was a small pang in your heart every time he mentioned her, but this was your best friend; you wanted nothing more than for him to be happy! There was also the constant threat that now loomed over him. What would Heaven do if they found out about Lucifer and Lilith? You vowed to keep his secret; you couldn't bear to witness any punishment befall him.

One day, Lucifer came rushing to your room with an idea that could shake Heaven to its very core.

"Free will?" you asked Lucifer. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, the Elders-"

"The Elders are wrong," Lucifer responded curtly. "Humans deserve to have free will. They shouldn't just be puppets on Heaven's strings. It's not right! They should have the right to choose!"

You sighed. "I don't disagree with you, Lucifer. You're right. But...I'm worried. What will happen once they do have it? Once it's given, you can't take it back. And what will happen to you? You have to know there will be consequences if you go through with this and I...I'm..."

Lucifer pulled you into a tight hug, and you instinctively returned the gesture. Holding him felt like one of the greatest gifts you could ever receive. "It'll be alright. No matter what happens to me, I know this is the right thing to do." He pulled away from you and smiled, holding your hands delicately. "You are a wonderful friend, and a true reflection of what Heaven should be. I don't want you to worry anymore. I can't get in any worse trouble than I've already been in before, right?" he laughed.

His golden eyes shined brightly; you loved the way he lit up when he told you about his dreams. You finally smiled back at him. "Thank you, Lucifer. I trust you completely. When will you return to Earth?"

"Tomorrow," he responded. "Lilith and I will meet with Eve. She seems like she would be more receptive to the idea than Adam. Perhaps she could convince him afterwards!" With a wave of his hand, a shiny, glowing red apple appeared in his palm. "This is my gift to humanity. It's the least I can provide."

You leaned in and planted a tiny peck to his pale cheek. "Please be careful," you whispered.

A light golden blush dashed across his cheeks. "O-Of course." He turned around slowly, opening the door and was about to leave when he turned back to look at you. "I'll be back tomorrow after it's done. Don't miss me too much!" With that, Lucifer walked out, leaving you alone in your room once more.

You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

****

“GUILTY!” All of the courtroom angles shouted in unison.

"SERA, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" you cried out, your arms and body being restrained by archangels.

Lucifer had succeeded, he had given the fruit of knowledge to Eve. But everything had shattered. Her acceptance of free will had caused darkness to enter the world. Evil now had free reign on Earth. And the ones responsible were about to face the consequences. Lucifer and Lilith were surrounded by Heaven’s forces in the courtroom, spears encircling them, backed into a corner with no hope of fleeing.

"Keep her away," Sera ordered the guards from her pedestal, refusing to turn in your direction. "Lucifer. Lilith. Your reckless act of providing free will to humans has caused creation's downfall. You will both be punished for your transgressions."

You watched as Lucifer shielded Lilith with his magnificent wings with little regard for his own well-being. "S-Sera, please listen to me!" he pleaded. "This isn't what I wanted! Lilith had nothing to do with this, this was my fault! I-I only tried to-"

"SILENCE!" Sera's voice boomed. "As far as Heaven is concerned, you are both responsible. As punishment, you will be sent down into the dark pit you have created. You will never again step foot in Heaven, forever separated from this holy place. The humans who abuse your gift will join you after their death, sharing in your fate. You WILL understand the gravity of your misdeed."

You couldn't handle hearing another word. You mustered all of your strength and were able to break free of the guards' hold on you. You flew as fast as you could, now standing between the doomed lovers and the angelic spears.

"Sera, you can't let them do this!" you begged. "Lucifer only wanted what was best for humanity!"

"And look what his gift has brought," Sera remarked. "He was warned, and you would be wise to move aside."

"If you cast them out, you'll have to cast me out too!" you challenged, barring your teeth, your angelic eyes peering out from your hair. Tears ran down your cheeks at the thought of never seeing your home again. But you were prepared to make that sacrifice.

Sera's eyes narrowed at your words. "What did you know of this?"

"NOTHING!" Lucifer shouted. His hand found its way to your shoulder and managed to push you behind him where Lilith stood trembling. "She didn't know anything! She's only trying to protect me!"

"Lucifer! You can't-" you tried to protest, but you felt a hand cover your mouth. You peered over to Lilith who shook her head solemnly.

"I didn't tell her what I was planning to do," Lucifer continued. "She had nothing to do with this. Please, spare her..."

Sera sighed and soared down to meet the three of you. The spears were lifted away from you, the gaudy splitting to make way for the high seraphim. "Consider this a final act of grace." Her gaze made her way towards your glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be. We will discuss this later." Sera had vanished in a flash and a new portal had suddenly appeared behind you. You peered behind you, seeing nothing but a red barren landscape that struck fear in your heart.

You were petrified. You didn't know what would become of your friend or Lilith, but you knew you were powerless to stop it. Your body gave up, falling to your knees with a thud. Your head sank and you began to weep.

"I'm sorry Lucifer, I'm so sorry," your hoarse voice barely carrying.

"Don't you dare apologize," your friend responded, kneeling down next to you. "This was not your doing."

"B-But..."

"Lilith and I will be alright." You knew he was lying. You shook your head in response. "You have to remain in Heaven. They need you here. And so do I." You raised you head, at least meeting Lucifer's pleading eyes. "I will miss you, my dear friend. Please forgive me." You felt the pull of the portal begin to force all of you towards its bleak destination. The guards’ angelic spears were once again at your throats. There was no escape. Lucifer hugged you tight, only for him to pull you up suddenly and push you away from the portal with a hard shove. You weren’t able to find your balance and found yourself back on the courtroom floor. “Go! Now!” he yelled out to you before disappearing into the abyss.

All you could hear was their screams as they fell.

****

Days turned into month, months turned into years, years turned into decades, and decades turned into centuries. Not a day passed when you didn’t think about him. It took a few millennia before you stopped crying every day. Even the thought of mentioning his name caused your anguish. But now, you were numb. You went about your duties as instructed, but your will to dream and create had all but vanished. It wasn’t the same without him there. And now you were a perfect virtue, always did as she was told, never straying, and never questioning. You were broken. Even more so when you had mistakenly learned about the extermination of demons led by Adam and his soldiers.

No one was allowed to know, not even Emily, who had become the closest thing to a friend you’ve had since Lucifer’s fall. She was the one who helped you through your darkest moments. Her pure joy was enough to pull you out of your deepest pits of despair. For a little while at least. Your sadness never truly left you. It was like a black hole that could never be filled and could never truly be satisfied.

Your heart sank from the devastating revelation. You knew deep down that this was wrong; the slaughter of souls that were already doomed for eternity. They didn’t deserve that fate. But there was nothing you could do. What could you do? So, you stayed silent.

That is until one day, you learned of the arrival of Princess Morningstar's arrival to heaven.

You had known Lucifer had a child with Lilith, Charlotte. There was a great panic in Heaven, concerned over what a child of Lucifer could mean for both of the unearthly realms. But the last two hundred or so years had brought nothing. Until today. You had seen her walking alongside Sera and Emily on the promenade, as well as another person who looked awfully familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place where you'd seen her before. It was odd considering you had never met a sinner before. You wanted to follow them but had caught Adam and Lute discussing the demonic pair amongst themselves and thought it best to avoid fanning the flames of an already tense situation. After waiting some time and asking around, you learned the princess was visiting the zoo. You'd flown there as fast as your wings could carry you. After circling the enclosures, you spotted the princess gawking at one of the koalas that had fallen asleep in its tree. Luckily, you didn't see any signs of anybody else around her. Silently, you landed behind her, now realizing you hadn't thought about what to say. You sucked in a breath and took one step closer.

"Charlotte Morningstar?" you practically whispered. The princess turned her head cautiously at the sound of her name. "I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"Oh, hi there!" she beamed at you, using both of her hands to shake one of yours, your body jerking slightly with each motion. "And you can call me Charlie!"

"Charlie," you repeated. You took your time studying the princess in front of you. Her golden hair and pale face with rosy cheeks stuck out to you the most, as well as her genuine and unadulterated smile. She truly a reflection of her father. "You look...so much like him."

"My dad?" she questioned. "Yeah, I get that a lot!"

You shook you head, finally breaking eye contact and letting go of her hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Your father and I, we...we were really close when he was here. He was my best friend. I was there the day he..." you couldn't find it in you to finish your sentence. "I tried my best to help, to save him. But he saved me instead. I should have been cast out with him." Your voice drifted off. You could feel tears began to prick your eyes. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come, I should go-"

"Wait!" You felt a hard tug on your wrist as you tried to step away. "Please don't leave! I'm sorry if I upset you in any way!"

The utter compassion and sincerity in her voice felt like a stake to the heart. You fell to your knees, not being able to hold back the tears any longer. Charlie kneeled next to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. This felt all too familiar. "I'm s-so sorry. This...this isn't your burden to bear."

"It's alright," Charlie soothed, "it's okay to cry. To feel sad. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of." She unwrapped her arms from around you and placed them on your shoulders, now lifting your head to see her empathetic stare. "My dad...he never really talked about his life here in Heaven. I imagine it's painful for him to think about, just like it is for you." Charlie swiped her thumb across your cheek to catch a tear that had fallen. "But I'm happy to know that he had a friend like you who cares about him as much as you do. I'm more than glad to have met you, so now we can be friends too! That is, if you want that."

A small smile spread on your face as you reached out to return her hug. "Yes," you replied, "I'd like that, Charlie. More than you know. You really are your father's daughter. Sweet, and kind, and caring." You felt Charlie's arms around you once more, the tears at last beginning to dry. You pulled away and cleaned the rest of your face with your sleeve. "If I can ask, why are you here? Not the zoo, but, in Heaven, I mean."

"Oh! Yes!," Charlie shot up straight, offering her hand out to help you up as well. "My dad got me a meeting with Sera! I'm running a hotel in Hell right now in order to rehabilitate sinners! I want to convince them that redemption is possible so that they can have a long fulfilling afterlife here!"

"Redemption..." you pondered aloud. "Do you think it's possible?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIII don't know," Charlie admitted. "We haven't really had a successful case...yet! But I'm hopeful! We have a few patrons already who are making great progress! I'm presenting my case to Sera and the council soon, and I'm hoping I can persuade them!"

Charlie had just given you much to process. The idea of redeeming sinners had not once crossed your mind. It almost seemed too big of a dream, and knowing Heaven's attitude towards the demons in Hell, you were weary of how Sera and the rest of the court would react to such a proposal despite Charlie's seemingly boundless optimism. Another well intentioned idea from a starry-eyed dreamer shot down and ridiculed by Heaven; the parallels were impossible to ignore.

"Charlie, no matter what, know you have an ally in me," you told her. "Whether or not Sera and the others choose to listen, I believe in you, as I believed in your father all those years ago. I know for a fact Emily will listen to you. You remind me of her, she's a good soul."

"Thank you," Charlie smiled. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from Charlie's pocket. "Oh geez, the meeting! I have to go!" Charlie gave you one last quick hug before she darted off towards Heaven's courtroom, waving to you as she ran. "I'll see you later! Oh! And I'll tell my dad I had the chance to meet you!" she called out! You tried to wave back, but she didn't see you as she sprinted away.

That was the last time you saw the princess of Hell.

****

It's been a month since your conversation with Charlie and with each passing day, your anger had risen. Emily had told you that Sera had ignored Charlie's proposal, that she now knew about the exterminations that have been taking place, and how Adam had threatened to attack her and the hotel as he forced her out of the courtroom and back to Hell. In turn, you had told Emily about your brief conversation with the princess on the same day. Thankfully, the two of you were on the same page and decided that you were going to fight for Charlie. You had asked Emily if she could make arrangements to meet with Sera privately to discuss the matter. Of course, the only time Sera agreed to meet was the same day as the extermination. You spent so much of the day collecting your thoughts and practicing your speech that you didn't realize you were running late for the meeting. You flew across the city, barging through the front doors and making your way up to Sera's office in the blink of an eye. You swung open the doors in a panic.

"I'm sorry I'm late Sera, I was-" you began to apologize until you realized that the was their attention was not on you. You turned your head and noticed another angel in the room. He was slender, tall, and was wearing an incredibly unique hat. It was easy to tell by the look on his face that he was confused and a bit startled by your sudden entrance. Perhaps he was a new soul, but he didn't look like a soul you've ever seen.

"Oh, hello to you assss well," the new angel greeted you with his unique accent, his forked tongue slipping between his teeth.

Before you could respond, Emily shrieked stood up excitedly, rushing over to greet him. “Hi there! I’m Emily! Or you can call me Em or Emmy! It doesn’t matter, I’m fine with whatever! Welcome to Heaven!”

You looked over at Sera who had not moved since you entered the room. Her face was a strange mix of horrified and uncertain. Sera remained motionless as Emily refused to contain her unbridled joy.

“I recognize you!” she exclaimed. “You were the one in the club with your friends in Hell!”

“Wait, in Hell?” you chimed in. “How do you…”

Emily flew over to you suddenly, pulling your body closer to the stranger. “He was one of the residents of Charlie’s hotel! We saw him while she was pleading her case to the court!”

“Emily, wait,” Sera finally spoke up, but Emily ignored her. And so did you.

“What’s your name?,” you asked him.

The angel smiled and bowed before you. “I am Sir Pentiousss, a pleasure to meet you!” He straightened back up, looking around the room curiously. “I’m terribly sssorry to ask, but where am I? I don’t recall how I came to be here. I was in my airship, ready to take on that dastardly angel, the one with that obnoxiousss guitar. And in a sudden flash of light, I was here!” His eyes grew into saucers, gripping onto his hat. “My friendsss! I have to get back to them, they’re in danger!”

You watched as he slithered back and forth across the room, mumbling to himself when it all hit you at once. This soul was a sinner. He was in Hell. And he was someone who was staying at Charlie’s hotel. The one meant to save lost souls.

“You were redeemed,” you finally spoke.

"What?!" the three angels asked in unison.

"Emily, don't you see?" you asked, reaching down to grab her hands. "This was Charlie's plan all along!" You turned to look at the redeemed soul. "Sir Pentious, I think you may have been killed."

"But I wasss already dead, my dear," he responded.

"Yes, but only souls who have passed on can face divine judgement," you explained. "Whatever you had done must have sent you here!"

You and Emily looked at each other and smiled, now hovering in the air. “He was a sinner!” Emily belted. “But now he’s here! He’s here in Heaven! Charlie’s hotel works! She was-”

“That's enough!” Sera cut in unexpectedly. You and Emily frowned; your feet placed firmly on the ground again. "You two need to leave, now. I will handle this matter."

"But Sera-" Emily tried to reason.

"Please do not question me, Emily," Sera warned, "remember what I had told you."

Emily hung her head and sighed, starting to make her way towards the door, still holding onto your hand. but you refused to budge when she had tugged on your arm.

"No," you replied sternly through your gritted teeth.

Sera narrowed her eyes at your defiance. "I'm not asking. It would be in your best interest to do as your told. You were already pardoned once before. Don't make this worse than it has to be."

You took to the air and were now at eye level with the high seraphim, a righteous anger surging through you. "I'm done listening to you," you spat. "I should have been cast down with Lucifer that day. He told me everything, I knew what he had planned. He protected me and not a day goes by where I don't regret not staying by his side. I did nothing to stop him because I knew he was right in giving humans free will. And now I can see Charlie was right in her quest to redeem souls. You were wrong back then, Sera, and you're wrong now!"

Sera's angelic eyes appeared; her anger peaked to its boiling point. "Emily, take the new soul and leave immediately."

Not wanting to anger her further, Emily took ahold of Sir Pentious's hand and rushed him towards the door. You caught a glimpse of her teary expression as she looked back at you. I'll be okay, you mouthed to her, but you knew it was a lie. When the door finally closed, you glared back at Sera with a fiery intensity that you never knew you were capable of.

"You know the punishment for an act of defiance," Sera spoke sternly.

"I should have fallen eons ago," you retorted, holding back you sobs. "Do it, Sera, cast me to the pits of Hell!"

"So be it."

****

You don’t know how long you were lying there in the crater you created all you knew is that you were in a tremendous amount of pain. Your eyes fluttered open, now feeling the rocky heard ground beneath you. Languidly, you tried to pull yourself up, your arms shaking under your weight. But it was no use, your strength had left you and you fell back to the floor with a thud. You fought to keep your eyes open, doing anything to stay conscious. Feeling a strange stickiness on your face, you reached up to touch it, only to pull your hand back to see your golden angelic blood leaking from an open gash.

But beneath that blood was something that made your heart stop completely. Your hands had turned a charcoal black with razor sharp claws jutting out of each fingertip. The color ran all the way up your forearm, stopping just past your elbow. It was as if you had been held over a raging fire.

"What in the...OW!" you tried to say, but you felt a sharp pain on your tongue. Tentatively, you pressed a finger to your mouth only to pull away instantly. Your teeth, once perfect and smooth, had now all been replaced by razor sharp fangs. Your brain was working overtime, trying desperately to comprehend these drastic changes to your new form. But another problem was on the horizon.

In the distance, you heard distant chatter, but it was growing louder and louder by the second. With what little strength you had, you lifted your head to see a group and black-eyed demons headed directly towards you.

“Help, please…” you called out weakly, your voice barely a whisper.

In no time, the demons encircled your near lifeless body. A pit grew in your stomach as you noticed their glistening teeth and ravenous smiles.

“Fresh meat!” you heard one of them declare.

“Bet she tastes heavenly,” you heard another say.

Tears began to prick your eyes, knowing full well you couldn’t fight these demons off. You closed your eyes and awaited your fate when you heard another voice call out to the hungry cannibals.

“What’s all this commotion about now?” you heard a voice say. Your eyes shot open to see a tall woman dressed as if she was from the prohibition era standing right above you. She kneeled down before you, placing a hand under your chin. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? An angel,” she sang out, “but you’re different, ain’t ya? You’re not one of them exorcists.”

“Please,” you choked out, “…need to find the princess. Charlie…have to tell her…she was right…”

Everything went black.

You awoke sometime later, now finding yourself lying on a sofa in a lavish pink room. Your head was pounding, you reached your hand up to your forehead. But instead of skin, you felt something else. You realized then that someone had wrapped gauze around your wound. But who?

“Ahh, good! You’re finally awake!,” a familiar voice rang out. “You really had quite the fall, huh dearie?”

You sat up slowly, feeling every ache and pain from before. You turned to the woman who had been sitting across the room sipping some tea from for porcelain cup. She gave you a sharp smile, sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-Who are you?,” you asked nervously. “And where am I?”

“How forward of ya,” the woman shot back, “I like it! Name’s Rosie, a pleasure to meet ya, darlin’. And right now, you’re in cannibal town! You’re lucky I was there when the townsfolk found ya, could have been a real blood bath, let me tell ya!”

You gulped, realizing that you were almost killed, and you had just arrived in Hell. “I’m sorry, t-thank you,” you stuttered. "But...why did you save me?"

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetheart, it’s water under the bridge!” Rosie assured. She stood up and made her way over, sitting on the couch next to you. “And let's just say I have a hunch. There's something about ya but I can't place my finger on it just yet. Now, what’s an angel like you doing all the way down here?”

“I…I disobeyed Heaven’s orders,” you answered. “I told them that they were wrong, and I dared them to cast me out. And they made good on their promise.”

Rosie smiled and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you incredibly close to her. “I knew I liked ya! That’s some real moxie ya got! Defying Heaven takes guts! You and the princess got a lot in common it seems.”

“Charlie!” you nearly shouted, pulling away from Rosie and standing up a little too fast. Dizziness hit you instantly and you shut your eyes, attempting to regain some balance. “I have to find Charlie! Do you know where she is?”

“Sure do!” Rosie beamed. “She and her father are over there at their new ritzy hotel they just finished buildin’. It’s just on the outside of the city, ya can’t miss it! That old one crumbled faster than a tower of cards in a hurricane!”

“Her father is there?” you asked, unable to hide the flush on your face.

“Oh, I’d know that look anywhere,” Rosie smirked. “Someone is really smitten for the king, am I right?”

“N-No!” you pushed back. “That’s…that’s not it at all! I-I…”

“Come now, dearie! Ol’ Rosie here is an expert in the romance department! Sit back down and tell me all about it!” She patted the cushion next to her, inviting you back next to her. With a defeated sigh, you took a seat next to the cannibal overlord. “Now, what’s your relationship with the big boss of Hell? I’m dying to know!”

You sucked in a deep breath. “I knew him before, you know, the creation of this place.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Just knew him?”

You shook your head. “No. He was…he was my closest friend. He saved me the day he fell. And not a day has gone by where I haven’t missed him.” You wrapped your arms around yourself at you vulnerability in front of this demon who’d you only just met. “But it doesn’t matter, Rosie. He’s with Lilith and I’d never think of coming between them.”

“Oh, sweet pea, don’t you know?” Rosie asked curiously. “Well, I guess maybe ya wouldn’t. But him and the Queen called it quits a few years ago.”

“What?!” you looked at her in shock.

“Yeah! I don’t know all the details, but trust me, I’m always on top of the hot gossip ‘round here,” she winked. “But he’s a free man, that’s what’s important here! I want ya to shoot your shot!”

The flood of this new revelation made your head spin. The way Lucifer used to talk about Lilith made it seem like they were fated to be together forever, like nothing could ever separate them. You found yourself standing up and pacing the floor back and forth, trying to decide your next move.

“I appreciate the encouragement, Rosie, I really do, but…” you hesitated before speaking again, “my main focus is finding Charlie and telling her what I know. She deserves that much. Everything else can come later.”

Rosie gave you a soft smile. “Strong morals, but I shouldn’t expect anything less from an angel! Good on ya, darlin’.” The cannibal overlord stood up with you and took your hands in hers. “Buuuutttt since you’re likely gonna see the king anyway, how’s about we find ya some new clothes, hmm? The ones you have now are just a bit tattered.”

It was then you realized you never thought to check the robe you had been wearing. Rosie was right, of course. Your robes looked like it had been torn to shreds, countless holes littering the fabric.

“Oh…” was all you could say.

“Don’t you worry,” Rosie reassured, “I have just the thing for ya!”

In a flash, Rosie had returned with a knee length red dress with black lacy patters and some classy black flats for your bare feet. You were a little nervous, never once changing out of your normal robe attire. It would definitely show off more of your body than you ever have before. Rosie led you to a private room to change into your new outfit. But once you removed your all but ruined robe, you noticed even more changes. Your legs now matched your arms, blackened, and burnt to just above your knees where it faded into your familiar pale gray skin. You frowned at the sight, but decided to focus on changing instead, knowing you would have plenty of time later to reflect on your new and somewhat startling appearance. You found Rosie again who began to clap in utter excitement!

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Rosie complimented, “aren’t you just a looker! I knew that dress would go great with your eyes!”

You stared back at her in confusion. “My eyes?”

“Go see for yourself!” Rosie said, pointing over to the tall mirror in the corner of her room.

You shuffled over and stood in front of it, only to jump back in surprise when you saw a pair of two blood red eyes glaring back at you. After the initial shock, you hesitantly took a step closer. You noticed your once pink irises had turned pale white with your pitch-black pupils now slit like a serpent’s. You felt tears beginning to fill your new demonic eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry,” Rosie soothed as she walked over, placing her clawed hand on your shoulder. “Ya might just be the prettiest thing in Hell!”

“I look like a monster!” you bawled, wrapping yourself in your arms.

Rosie turned you away from the mirror and gently brushed a tear that had fallen on your cheek. “Ya know what I think?,” Rosie asked. “I think that’s the Heaven in ya talkin’. Sure, ya might look a little different, but honey, I've met my fair share of monsters and trust me, you ain't one of them. Now c'mon, no more waterworks, okay?" With a shaky breath, you nodded and wiped away the rest of your tears. "There ya go! Now, you better get goin'! I'm sure your prince charmin' would be over the moon if he saw ya!"

"Rosie!" you squeaked out, your face now feeling incredibly hot. "Umm, t-thank you, for everything."

"Oh, don't mention it! Any friend of Charlie's is a friend of mine!" She escorted you to a back door so as to not draw attention and to keep you away from the potential dangers emitting from the ravenous residents. "You just come back anytime you need somethin', okay hon? I'm rootin' for ya!"

With a final smile and nod, you summoned your wings and took to the crimson sky. But it didn't take long for you to notice that your wings had changed too. At this point, you weren't surprised anymore. The light pink coloring of your wings had darkened to a deep maroon. You sighed heavily, silently praying that this would be the last change your new body surprised you with. After gaining enough height in the air, you noticed a brightly lit tower just on the edge of the city, just where Rosie said it would be. You flew there as fast as your wings could carry you. You fought past the lingering pain and soreness you still felt coursing through your body to now hover over the illuminating structure.

Despite the grandness of the hotel, it seemed a little too quiet for comfort. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area for any signs of life but there were none to be found. But with your cursory glance, a familiar shape had caught your attention. On one side of the building was a large structure covered in yellow tinted glass in the shape of what appeared to be an apple. Even after all these years, you could never forget that fateful day when you were shown the gift that would set everything into motion. You knew what that symbol was, and you knew who it was made to represent. Without realizing, you had drifted closer and closer to the symbol of destruction. With a hard gulp, you pressed your face to the glass and peered inside, not knowing whether or not you wanted to find what, or who, you were looking for. It was a lavish bedroom to be sure, covered in various reds and golds with a way too large bed to complete the look. To your relief and disappointment, it appeared that the room was empty. You sighed and were about to turn around when all of a sudden, you noticed a small reflection in the glass. Someone was behind you.

"You know, it's pretty rude to spy on people," the familiar voice chastised. You froze in the air completely, knowing exactly who had snuck up on you. "Not sure what you were thinking coming back here, really not the brightest idea if you ask me. I thought I told you and your friends to go-" you spun around, tears flowing from your eyes. Lucifer's frustrated expression softened immediately. "-home...".

You fought through your tears as you tried to speak, trying desperately to control them. "Lucifer?" you finally managed to choke out. He was different. His eyes were now a pale yellow and his pure white wings now ruby red. His teeth and hands reflected your own. Yes, he was different, but it was him. It was your best friend.

"No...No, it can't be..." he murmured to himself. You found yourself unable to move while Lucifer flew closer and closer to you until he was inches away. Your breath hitched when his hand found its way to your cheek, wiping away the nonstop tears. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," you breathed.

Lucifer's eyes welled up immediately at your confirmation. A small squeak escaped your lips when he suddenly had both of his arms around you, holding you as close to him as possible in a tight embrace. You smiled and returned the gesture, unable to stop yourself from sobbing into the crook of his neck. You two hung in the air for a few minutes, somehow laughing and crying at the same time before either of you pulled apart. But Lucifer's smile faded all too quickly once he began to rake his eyes over your new form.

"No, no, no, no, no, God, please no!" Lucifer pleaded. "Please...please don't tell me you..." You looked away from him, ashamed to admit what had happened. But your silence was all the answer he needed. "No..." he whispered. "No, this isn't right! You shouldn't be here! You don't belong down here! How could Sera do this?! I swear I'm going to..."

"Lucifer!" you snapped, grabbing ahold of his hands. "It's going to be alright. Please don't do anything rash."

Lucifer anxiously squeezed your hands. "But...But this isn't-I mean, you..." His words failed him, lowering his head in defeat. "I've missed you...so much..."

You lifted his head up and pressed a soft kiss to Lucifer's cheek, noticing a soft blush on his cheeks as you pulled away. "I missed you too, more than I can possibly describe. But this was meant to be. I told Sera to cast me here."

Lucifer stared at you with his mouth agape. "What?! Why?!"

"It was the only way I could help," you answered. "There's something I need to tell Charlie. Something happened that could change the fate of everything. And I’ve chosen my side. I chose it a long time ago.”

Lucifer remained somber, unable to process the new reality he found himself in. “I never should have involved you with my plan for Eden. You’re here because of me whether you believe that or not. I’d despise me if I were you.” Lucifer pulled away from you, making his way up to the roof of his roof, sitting down and pulling his legs to his chest only to bury his head into them.

You frowned, following closely behind. “I could never,” you replied quietly, taking your place next to him. “My fall was not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Lucifer shot back. “You wouldn’t have fallen if there was no Hell to begin with! Everyone down here abused the gift that I gave them and now they’re damned for all eternity! What a gift free will turned out to be…” Lucifer hid himself underneath his enormous wings, cocooning himself away from your gaze.

Tentatively, your hand stretched out to comb through his scarlet feathers until you could see him again. "Lucifer, please look at me." He sighed and turned his head slightly. "I told you I believed in you all those years ago, and I still do. Nothing has changed. And it's not as hopeless as you make it out to be. Lucifer, Charlie's hotel works. A soul in Hell was redeemed."

Lucifer's head snapped up in an instant, his wings disappearing immediately. "Wait, wait, wait, hold on!" he nearly shouted, gripping onto your shoulders. "Are you sure? I mean, are you absolutely sure? N-Not that I don't believe you but...do you know the soul's name?"

You nodded. "He said his name was Sir Pentious. Emily said that he was a resident here and-"

"Sera was there, wasn't she?" Lucifer interjected. You nodded again. "You stood up for him, didn't you? You tried to protect him...just like you tried to protect me when..." his voice trailed off. It was at this moment you realized how close his face had gotten to yours.

"Y-Yes," you responded shakily, your voice betraying your calm demeanor. This didn't go unnoticed by Lucifer, however. He swallowed hard.

"I-I..." he stammered. "I never got to thank you for that day. You put yourself in harm's way and I'll never forgive myself for forcing you into that situation."

"But you didn't-" you tried to say, but Lucifer had put a finger up to your lips. Your heart was racing at a million beats per minutes at this point and you knew Lucifer could tell. Your face had never felt hotter.

"I'm never going to allow you to blame yourself for any of this." Lucifer dropped his hand away from your lips, but you remained silent, as if your voice had suddenly vanished. "You were-are-my closest friend and...and I..." Lucifer's voice gave up as well, leaning in closer and closer, watching as his eyelids fell with every movement.

"Lucifer..." you breathed, not realizing your upper body gravitating towards him as well. Your eyelids fell shut.

"Dad? Dad, are you out here?", you heard a faint voice call out below. Both of you froze, feeling his hot breath on your parted lips. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes and shot up straight, refusing to look at your friend.

"W-We should go," you finally managed to say. "Charlie needs to know what's happened." But before Lucifer could respond, you leaped off of the building, vanishing from his sight.

"Huh..." Lucifer huffed out. It wasn't long before he dove after you.

There was definitely a conversation to be had later.

Despite leaving first, Lucifer passed you easily, giving you a small wink on the way down. It didn't really seem fair; his six wings gave him a much larger advantage when it came to speed compared to your two. He landed gracefully in front of the hotel while you followed close behind.

"Oh dad, there you are!" Charlie beamed, "I was-" she paused as she saw you land. "Oh, hello again!" the princess greeted as she ran over to embrace you. "It's so nice to see you! I-wait...how...how did you get here?"

You sighed deeply. "Charlie, there's something you need to know."

Charlie pulled away; a bit confused by your words. But after she took a closer look at you, her usual smiling face had shifted into one of sadness. "Oh, oh no...did Heaven...?" You nodded. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need anything? I don't know what we have in term of medical supplies but I'm sure we can find something! Just wait right here, I'll..."

"Charlie, dear, hold on," Lucifer gently reached out to grab her wrist.

"I'm alright, Charlie," you reassured her. "I'm still sore in some places but I'll recover. But listen, you need to know this. It's the reason I'm down here, Heaven didn't appreciate what I had to say."

"What is it?" she asked nervously.

"Sir Pentious, he made to Heaven," you smiled. "Your hotel works."

"You were right, kiddo," Lucifer added. Charlie stood there motionless with a vacant expression. You and Lucifer looked at each other with a bit of concern. "Charlie, sweetie, are you alright?"

She began to sob uncontrollably. "P-Pentious is okay?..." she squeaked out. "I-I thought..."

You and Lucifer embraced Charlie as she bawled. "It's alright," you comforted, "he's alright. You did it, Charlie! Heaven won't be able to dismiss you anymore." You and Lucifer exchanged a weary look unbeknownst to Charlie. While that may be the truth, there's no telling how Heaven may respond now. And considering where you were at the moment, it wasn't looking good.

Charlie sniffled some more before calming down enough to be able to breathe normally again. "I have to tell everyone! I'll call a meeting right now. No, wait!" She turned to you and grab your hands enthusiastically. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you so much! Anything you need is yours; you just ask! Let's start by getting you a room here; you're a part of our family now! Come on, I have the perfect-"

"Wait, Charlie!" her father called after her. "Would you mind if we caught up with you later? She and I, uhh, have some things to discuss first, if that's alright." You shot Lucifer a nervous glance, but he pretended not to notice.

"Oh, yeah, of course!" his daughter chirped. "I'm sure you guys have a ton to catch up on! I'll see you guys at dinner!" With that, Charlie sprinted towards the front entrance, calling out to the woman who had been standing in the doorway. You recognized her as the one who was with Charlie that day in heaven. You smiled as you watched the princess lift her up to twirl her around. You were so busy watching them that you didn't realize a portal had been summoned behind you. With a slight tug, Lucifer gently grabbed your hand and walked you through it. It took you only a moment to realize he had taken you back to the bedroom that you were spying on only a few minutes ago. Lucifer let go of your hand and took a seat on the edge of his bed, hanging his head low.

"So..." Lucifer sighed.

"So..." you repeated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he began, "I shouldn't have..."

"Oh..." your heart sank as he spoke. "It-It's fine, Lucifer, you d-don't..." You couldn't stop the tears that began to form in your eyes.

Lucifer looked up at you suddenly in a panic as you tried to muffle your quiet sobs. "Oh, God! No, no, no, I didn't mean it like that!" He stood up rapidly and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. "I'm such an idiot, I should have phrased that better!" You took a few deep breaths, allowing him to try and explain. "It's not that I didn't want to...umm...b-but I do! I very much do! I just-damn it, why am I so bad at this?!"

Your tears stopped as you listened to your friend. But it only took you a moment to realize why he had apologized in the first place.

"It's Lilith, isn't it?" you asked softly."

Lucifer looked at you surprised. "Yes. And no. It's...complicated. She and I..."

"I know," you whispered.

"Wait, you know?" he questioned, "How?"

You turned and took a few steps back from him. "I didn't exactly fall from Heaven in this outfit. Someone kind helped me, and they told me about..." you cut yourself short, not wanting to upset him further.

Lucifer let out a sign of relief, clutching his chest. "Oh, thank Heaven! I mean, uhh, you know what, never mind. I'm just relieved! I was panicking for the last few minutes because I thought you were still under the impression that I was taken!"

You smiled, crossing your arms over your chest. "You still have such a way with words, don't you?"

"Some things never change," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. "But now I'm curious. How exactly did I become a topic of conversation with this 'friend' of yours?"

Your face burned at the question, and you turned to look out the window at the blood red sky. "I don't think we need to talk about it," you dismissed.

"Oh, I think we absolutely do!" he challenged. Your eyes focused on his reflection in the window. He'd gotten much closer than he was before.

"It's nothing, really!" you responded as you turned around to finally face him. "I asked where I could find Charlie and my friend told me that you and her were both at the hotel and...I told her-"

"That you wanted to kiss your best friend?" Lucifer smirked as he finished the sentence for you."

"Gah!" you through your hands up in embarrassment and made your way away from the window and back over to the bed. "You're the worst, you know that? No, I didn't say that! She just...took a guess..."

Lucifer had followed you over to where you were standing. "And did you deny it?" You looked down at the ground, wrapping yourself in your arms. "Thought so. Because if memory serves, you leaned in to kiss me."

"You leaned in first!" you snapped back.

"Aha! So, you admit it! You did lean in!" Lucifer shouted triumphantly.

"Fine!" you yelled back in defeat, "So what if I did?"

Your question hung in the air as the room feel silent. That was until Lucifer moved towards you, each step emitting a nearly inaudible echo. He brought his hands up to cup your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Your breath hitched as you stared into his alluring eyes. "Well, if that’s the case," he murmured as his head tilted closer, pressing his forehead to yours "you wouldn’t mind if I leaned into you like this again, would you?"

Your eyes fluttered shut in an instant with your hands now wrapped around his neck, giving into his temptations at last. Your lips finally connected as you melted into his touch. His lips were soft, and gentle, just like you always imagined they would be. Lucifer moved one hand to your waist, pulling you flush against chest while the other snaked around to the back of your head, holding your face as close to his as he possibly could. You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath but felt an odd tingling sensation in your lower back. Without warning, your felt something spring out from behind, squeaking in surprise. It wrapped itself around yourself and Lucifer, pulling you together at your waists as if it had a mind of its own.

"W-Wow, that's certainly a reaction to a single kiss. I must say, it's quite bold of you, darling," Lucifer laughed.

As much as you wanted to call out his use of pet names, your focus had gone to your brand now appendage you saw poking out behind you. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" you groaned. "A tail? Seriously?!" You looked back at Lucifer mouth agape. "I-I'm sorry! I-I promise I didn't do that on purpose! I didn't even know I had-" Lucifer silenced your panicked apology with a quick peck on the lips.

"I promise I'm only teasing," Lucifer smiled. "And don't worry, you'll get used to it. It only tends to appear when you summon it or if you're feeling…intense emotions.” He cleared his throat. “But it might take a while to get full control.”

You raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you have personal experience." Lucifer's eyes wandered away from yours. "Oh..." You were able to will your tail enough to release its grip on the both of you. “Can you show me?”

“Very bold…” Lucifer gave you a small smirk. "Are you sure that's the only thing you want me to show you?" he chuckled, poking his tongue out between his sharp teeth. Your brain took a second to process his words as you became a bit distracted by his forked muscle.

"Lucifer!" You shook your head and pushed away from him, feeling your tail once again take control and wrap itself around your leg. You could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of his implications. “I swear, I will walk out that door right now!”

“Kidding!” Lucifer threw up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I know you’re nervous. And to be completely honest, I am too. I know I’m coming off like I know exactly what I’m doing, but my heart feels like it's about to beat out of my chest. The last thing I want to do is scare you away.” He gave you a soft look, and you noticed his painted cheeks had a noticeable yellow tint to them now. Your tail uncurled itself again as you stepped towards him once again.

“I forgive you,” you say sweetly, pecking his lips. “You’d never be able to scare me away, Lucifer. And you know, it’s not like…God, I can’t believe I’m actually going to admit this to you…” you sucked in a hard breath. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about…what else you could show me…”

Lucifer’s eyes seemed to glaze over at your confession. “You…you can’t say things like that…”

“Why n-ahh!” You found yourself forcibly pressed against his hips again. You turned around to see your tail hadn’t been the culprit this time. It was Lucifer’s that bound you two together. You felt like you were going to explode any second now.

“It’s dangerous." Lucifer murmured against your ear. Suddenly you found it extremely difficult to swallow.

"For you or for me?" He didn't answer, refusing to meet your gaze. "I uhh, I like your tongue, by the way." you blurted out without thinking, trying to steer the conversation into a more lighthearted one. Lucifer smiled and rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m trying to give you a compliment here! I’ve had so many…changes, I didn’t even think about my own…”

"I can check it for you, if you'd like," Lucifer teased. Before you could answer, he captured your lips again, but this time with much more fervor. His tongue darted out between his lips and flicked it against yours, begging for entrance. Slowly, your jaw slacked, and you parted your lips. You felt his tongue makes its way into your hot mouth, entangling it with your own. You moaned into him as you let him explore your chasm, pressing into you as far as he possibly could. It still wasn't enough. His hands roamed your body with one landing at the small of your back, the other finding it's place on your hip. Your hands did some exploring of their own, wandering to his chest and unbuttoning his jacket first and then his shirt. The buttons popped open one by one until both garments dropped to the floor with a soft thud. His skin felt soft under your touch. You raked your nails down his chest and over his stomach, completely intoxicated by the way he was making you feel. Instinctively, you rocked your hips against his, eliciting a small yelp from the king. He pulled away in an instant, his breath faltering as was your own.

"You're playing with fire by doing that, you know," he warned as he unwrapped his tail from around you. Lucifer didn't sound angry, far from it. But his voice was dripping with concern, almost as if he were afraid. Of what, you weren't sure. But you were determined to get the answer out of him one way or another. "In any case, your tongue seems to be perfectly normal. But it wouldn't hurt to double check-HEY!"

With a quick shove, you forced him down onto the edge of the bed, his back now flat against the mattress. His widened eyes followed you as you crawled your way up his body, stopping to hover over him and finally tossing his hat off to the side.

"I'm not afraid of a little fire," you retorted. "I've already been burned." You crashed his lips into his again, lowering your body slowly onto his. Lucifer's hands found their way to your waist as you began to lethargically roll your hips against his. You swallowed every sound he let out, driving you further to pick up the pace. After a few snaps of your hips, your felt a growing bulge push up to meet your core. Your heart palpitated at the thought of riling him up. Your tail took control once more and slithered up the sheets to find Lucifer's, entangling them together. Lucifer whimpered beneath you, his body convulsing with every move you made. Even his grip on your waist was feather light. You pulled your lips away to see his eyes flash a bright red for just a moment before fading back to normal.

"Stop holding back on me, Lucifer," you commanded breathlessly. "I told you nothing you do will scare me away. You have to believe that."

"You..." Lucifer gulped, "You don't know w-what you're asking for."

"Then show me."

A small roar escaped Lucifer's throat as he pulled you off of him to throw you down onto the mattress, your arms now pinned above your head. It all happened so fast that your brain couldn't properly register how you ended up on your back so fast. When you looked back up at Lucifer, he had changed. His eyes remained a blood red with large horns now protruding from his temples. He was no longer a fallen angel, but a demon looking to devour his next meal. And at this moment, it was you. Your whole body trembled from the fallen angel above you. Part of you wanted to scream, but not of fear, but from pure elation. Two fallen angels giving into their deepest desires with no fear of consequence.

"O-Oh, shit..." you squeaked.

Lucifer chucked. "I don't know if I've ever heard you curse before, sweetheart. It's cute." You could only gulp in response, and Lucifer took notice of your tense expression. "Don't say I didn't try to warn you. I think it’d be best if we st-"

You bucked up your hips in response, making Lucifer hiss. "All I’ve thought about for the last 10,000 years was having the chance to see you again. If you think some demonic horns and scary-looking eyes are going to change the way I feel about you, you’re wrong! You’re such a hypocrite! I know I don’t look like I used to before, but you haven’t been able to keep your hands off me this entire time!”

Lucifer froze for a moment at your words, shaking his head in an attempt to regain his train of thought. His hands instantly let go of yours and flew to the top of your thighs. You sucked in the harsh breath when you felt him sneak under the fabric of your dress and finally grip the hem of your panties. He looked at you expectantly, and you wordlessly nodded, giving him approval to keep going. He began to slide your panties down your legs at an agonizingly slow pace, you couldn’t help but whimper. Lucifer chuckled at your impatience.

“Maybe you’re right,” Lucifer finally spoke as he at last removed the black garment from your legs and tossed it away, “Maybe I am a hypocrite. So, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to try something. But first…” With a snap of his fingers, the large curtains that hung in his room fell, covering up the large yellow tinted windows, shrouding the room in darkness. “We don’t want any wandering eyes, now do we. Not that anybody would be dumb enough to try and spy on me, right?” he asked, smiling at you deviously.

“Oh, eat me, Lucifer!” you spat back at him playfully.

“Don't you worry, darling, we’ll get there soon enough,” he teased, licking his lips. You couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped your throat. The skirt of your dress was hiked up further and further until the cool air fully hit your slick folds. All you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Lucifer's claws trailed slowly up your soft thighs, stopping just before where you needed him most. "Are you sure you want this?"

You sat up on your elbows quickly, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him into a quick kiss. "Please," you whispered against his lips.

It was only a moment before you felt an unfamiliar pressure between your legs as Lucifer slipped a finger into you, pushing in and out of you slowly and methodically. Your hips bucked trying to create as much friction as possible, but Lucifer's other hand held you down by the hip. "Patience is a virtue, my dear," he remarked in a sultry voice, "you of all people should know that."

"I-I was-hhng...never that kind of-a-ah...virtue," you babbled, your mind going fuzzy from the pleasure. A second digit was inserted into you without warning, causing you to arch your back and groan out in ecstasy. You felt Lucifers skilled fingers pulling in and out of you, curling them inside hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars.

"You make the cutest sounds," Lucifer praised. "I want to hear more." Lucifer retreated his fingers immediately and you cried out in desperation, mourning the loss of his touch. But before you could beg for him to keep going, his face was already buried between your thighs. You felt his long forked tongue lick up your lower lips and your hand flew to your mouth to muffle a scream. He pulled away and glared at you with his cardinal eyes. "You better pull your hand away from that pretty mouth of yours if you want me to keep going," he warned. "I told you; I want to hear you. You wouldn't deny me those lovely noises after 10,000 years apart, would you." You obliged, gripping the sheet s beneath you to keep your hands at bay. Satisfied with your response, Lucifer's head dipped back down to work at your dripping cunt. The guttural moans and whimpers that escaped you filled the bedroom. His tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his lips sucked on your sensitive nub without abandon. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Before long, you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. One hand flew to Lucifer's while the other grabbed onto one of his horns. You felt the king growl against you as he continued to devour your pussy.

"L-Lucifer," you cried, "Luci...I-I...FFFUUCCK, I-I can't...can't hold it! G-Gonna cum, I'm s-so close..."

You felt the vibrations of Lucifer's satisfied hum. "I told you I wanted to try something, didn't I?" he asked. "Now it's your turn not to hold back. I want you to let go, let everything go for me." He plunged two fingers back into you without warning while his tongue attacked your clit. You were going to snap at any moment. "F-FUCK, Lucifer, I'm gonna...gonna c-cum, fuckfuckfuckFUCK!" With your thunderous cries, you felt your walls clamp down around his claws digits, his tongue lapping you up like a starved man. You felt something else at that moment, something different. A sudden pressure released from the sides of your head as you came. It wasn't a feeling of pain, but it was a sensation you've never felt before. Lucifer finally lifted his head after helping you ride out your climax, his chin dripping with your release. He flashed a cheeky grin at you before licking his lips.

"Absolutely divine," he murmured, "that was definitely worth the centuries long wait." Your face flushed from his word and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin before you could do so, pulling you into a kiss. You could taste a faint hint of yourself on his lips, and it was intoxicating. "Seems like my hunch was right," he chuckled as his eyes drifted upwards, "you definitely didn't hold back."

"W-What are you talking about?" you asked almost breathlessly. With another snap of his fingers, a small hand mirror appeared from thin air. He handed it to you with a soft smile. Hesitantly, you took a hold of the mirror and held it up to your face, and you finally knew what Lucifer had been trying to do. Your eyes had shifted to a midnight black with bright red irises. And the pressure you felt in your head moments ago finally made sense as you reached up to touch the dark curled ram horns that now poked out of your temples. You stared at yourself, shocked and yet somehow hypnotized. He had pulled the true demon out of you.

"You look...you're so beautiful," Lucifer sighed.

"You really think that?" you asked, looking up from the mirror in your hands.

"I've never thought anything different," he replied.

You tossed the mirror to the side of the bed and yanked Lucifer by the hips, pulling him over to sit against the headboard. He yelped in response but it was quickly silenced by your lips against his. You crawled into his lap and gently ground your slick entrance against the very obvious bulge in his pants.

"I need you now, Lucifer. Please," you begged. "I think we've both waited long enough..." With a final snap of Lucifer's fingers, your dress had completely vanished from your body as had his pants, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. Your instincts told you to cover up, but at this point, all inhibitions have been lost and you were in no head space to concern yourself with that. You saw Lucifer's eyes wander to your chest and hold there for just a little too long. "Are you just going to stare at me or do you need me to tell you to use your hands?"

Lucifer laughed sheepishly as his clawed hands found their way to your soft mounds, kneading them between his sharp fingers. He pinched your nipples, rolling them between his index and his thumb, soft moans catching in your throat. You felt his cock twitch between your stomachs, your mouth salivating in anticipation. You raised your hips and hovered yourself over his engorged member. He took his hand and pressed it against your soaked entrance, slowing gliding it back and forth against your folds, hitting your sensitive nub with each swipe.

"Are you ready?" he breathed.

"I am," you answered.

Slowly, you lowered your hips, sinking down on his cock inch by inch. You hissed at the initial pain of the intrusion, but it in no time the pain changed to feelings of pure bliss. It was only a moment more before you bottomed out on his cock, with him filling you completely as if your bodies were made for each other. You moaned in unison once he was fully inside of you, your tails wrapping around each other’s waists as to hold each other as you possibly could.

"Can I move?" you whimpered.

Lucifer shook his head. "Y-You need to tell me something first."

Your body yearned to move, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. "Yes, a-anything!"

"B-Before..." he started, "Before you told me-shit...you told me the f-feelings you had for me weren't going to change." You looked at him confused as he continued to speak. "I n-need to know...how you feel...about me..."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you lifted his head, forcing him to stare back at you. "I love you, Lucifer Morningstar. I always have. And I always will."

With your confession, Lucifer leaned up to capture your lips again. Your tongues found each other, twisting and entangling them in a passionate fight for dominance. His hands flew to your hips, gripping them tight as you felt your self being lifted up only to be pulled back down on his cock. You screamed into his mouth, but he captured your every noise. Your hips were lifted again with his guidance, and soon you found a steady pace, rocking against him and pulling as many sounds from him as you could. Lucifer pulled away from your lips and dove to your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, with one hand feeling up the other. His cock filled you to the absolute brim, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust. You couldn't imagine a better feeling as you felt the familiar tightening of the coil in your stomach.

"I m-missed you so much," Lucifer mumbled as he tried desperately to catch his breath. "So much...You're mine now. Forever and for a-all eternity. D-Don't ever leave me, please don't e-ever leave me again..."

His words hit you like an arrow to the heart. It was only now that you realized how much he cared for you despite being apart for so long. Torn apart and brought back together by the ones who deemed you unworthy of divinity.

"N-Never," you answered, "I'm yours."

Tears began to roll down both of your faces, him pulling you in to taste you again. "I love you," he murmured against your lips. "I love you; I love you, I-I love youuuu-fuckfuckfuck, I'm c-close..."

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as your body started to convulse. "W-Wanna feel you, Luci, p-please, don't stop, I-I'm gonna cum a-again..." His thrusts up into you became more and more erratic, you cock feel his cock throbbing inside of you with every movement. With one final hard thrust, you cried out in pleasure, your orgasm hitting you in full force as your walls pulsated around him. Your climax triggered his own as you heard him wail in response, feeling his hot ropes of cum cover your pink walls. You both rode out your highs as your hips slowed and finally came to a stop. You could feel his release leaking out onto your thighs underneath you and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of being filled with his seed. After you both caught your breaths, Lucifer gently lifted you off of him and laid you down next to him, your demonic forms both retreating. He pulled you flush against his chest and kissed the top of your head.

"To think I could have had you all this time," he whispered. "I'm such an idiot..."

You looked into his glassy eyes and placed a small peck to his lips. "No, you aren't," you comforted. "The past doesn't matter. What matters is now. And we have the rest of time to spend together, right?"

Lucifer smiled back at you softly. "We have forever, my love." He pulled you close to him again, this time with a little more force, but not enough to hurt you.

"Lucifer, I'm not going anywhere," you said sweetly, "you're holding me like...like I'm going to vanish into thin air."

"I can't be sure that you won't," he replied almost inaudibly. His wings suddenly appeared, engulfing you completely in their embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his lower back, embracing him fully. "You'll never lose me again, I promise." You and Lucifer missed dinner that night as you drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

~~~~

IT'S DONE, HALLELUAH, NOW IF YOU EXCUSE ME IMMA GO BATHE IN HOLY WATER BYEEEEEE

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slut4thebroken · 22 hours

Text

Teacher’s Pet

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | After months of trying to earn your professor’s praise, he finally gives you an opportunity to prove you deserve it.

Warnings | Smut, dub con, blackmail, coercion, humiliation, anal, bondage, praise, creampie, degradation, inappropriate use of fear toxin.

Words | 6.2 k

Notes | Started this a million years ago. Finally got the motivation to finish it cause of @hllywdwhre ‘s fic that I proofread lol. Also ty to the post that gave me the fear toxin idea 🙏🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

In honor of the one year anniversary since the start of my Cillian hyperfixation <3

Dr. Crane was one of the most strict and unforgiving professors at Gotham University. He graded harshly, didn’t tolerate late or incomplete work, and no one would ever dare be late— if they were, they just wouldn’t show up because an absence was better than his response to tardiness. He didn’t have any favorite students, just some that he tolerated slightly more than the rest. That was what you hated the most.

You’ve always been the favorite student for every single teacher you’ve had, whether they said it out loud or not. After the first couple of weeks, you figured he’d just be harder to crack than the rest. But after almost two months, you were starting to get frustrated. Nothing you did ever earned you any sort of praise. You were always early, always the first to turn in assignments, participated in class, paid attention— you were the perfect student. But he never seemed to recognize that. What made you snap was when he gave you a B on your latest essay.

Lightly knocking on his office door, you tried to control your nerves and push down the nausea— You’ve never had to talk with a teacher about a grade before…

“Come in.” He called out. So you opened the door and hesitantly stepped inside. He glanced at you quickly, then did a double take once he realized it was you. “Close the door.” He said, resuming what he was doing. You took in a quiet, deep breath and closed the door before walking over and sitting on the chair across from his desk.

“I’m assuming this is about your essay?” He asked, not even looking up from his work.

“Yes.. You gave me a B, I was hoping to understand why.” You said tentatively.

“Did you not read my notes?” Of course you did. But it still didn’t make any sense.

“No, I did, but-” He finally looked up at you with a sigh.

“Then you should understand why I gave you that grade.”

“This essay was practically perfect.” You argued, holding up the stapled together pieces of paper, marked up with red ink.

“Clearly not if you got a B.” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to get too upset or emotional.

“Dr. Crane, I’ve aced every single test and assignment, I’d hardly say this is a fair grade.” You frowned.

“Your argument was weak and biased.” Your lips parted in shock at the bluntness of his criticism. “And your previous assignments have no impact on my grading. If you’d like them to though, I’d be more than willing to grade them again to see if I missed anything.”

“It- it wasn’t… I spent weeks on this.”

“And yet… You still weren’t good enough for an A.” He said, making your stomach churn. Especially because he didn’t even say ‘your essay’ he just said ‘you.’ Looking down at the papers in your hands, you scanned them quickly as if it would magically give you the answer. “Review my notes for the next essay. Maybe you’ll do better.”

“What is your problem with me?” You snapped, looking up at him again, watching his brows raise slightly. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“I don’t tolerate entitled students who are used to being the teacher's pet. Whatever previous, unearned success and praise you're used to receiving is of no concern to me. It is not my fault if you came into this class expecting to be treated differently for doing the same thing as every other student.”

“I- I’m not.. entitled. I just like my work and effort to be appreciated and not.. given a B.”

“You want me to tell you that you’re such a good girl, turning in everything on time— as expected— and doing well on your assignments— as expected.” The faux praise, as well as the condescension that laced his voice, made your cheeks heat up instantly.

“No, but,”

“Then I think we’re done here.”

The next day, you almost considered not going to class, but you’ve never had an absence on your record and you’re not about to start now.

“We’re going to deviate from the lesson plan a little and talk about something else today; fear. Specifically, fear of rejection.” Your mouth dropped open at his words and if you had any doubts that this was because of your previous conversation, they quickly disappeared when he made eye contact with you.

“There are a few different causes, can anyone give me an example?” This would’ve been the time where you raised your hand. But that apparently wasn’t necessary because he called on you anyway, making you freeze.

“Um, I— I’m not sure.” You said nervously, sinking back into your chair a little.

“There’s a perfect example right there; anxiety and social comparison. Too anxious and insecure to answer a simple question. Who else can give an example?” You stared at him with wide eyes that quickly started burning with tears. Now you felt even more stupid than you would’ve, had you just answered him and potentially gotten it wrong.

Class dragged on slowly. He talked more about causes, what it looks like, how it affects performance— especially in school— and various treatments.

You couldn’t have been more relieved when he finally dismissed the class. You rushed to pack your things and stood up, quickly making your way to the exit.

When he called your name though, you froze, praying you heard him wrong. “Stay back for a moment.” Your peers gave you sympathetic looks as you turned around and slowly made your way back over to his desk.

“Yes, professor?” You asked, voice strained.

“I hope you found today's lesson helpful.” You gritted your teeth and gave him a dry smile.

“It was… inspiring, Dr. Crane.” You said plainly, trying to control your tone. His expression was only becoming more and more amused.

“I’m glad. Though I didn’t see you taking notes.” That made you falter.

“I- I was,”

“Great. Let me see them.” You looked away from him and shifted your weight awkwardly.

“See them?”

“Did you not understand?” Your face flushed with anger and embarrassment at his patronizing tone.

“I did. I just wasn’t aware that notes were something you needed to see.”

“If a student isn’t paying attention for the entirety of my class then, yes, notes are something I need to see.” You swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a response, and he watched you intently as he waited.

“Look, professor, you’ve made your point, okay? I don’t think you need to continue humiliating me.” You said quietly, not looking at him. He let out a heavy breath through his nose and you watched in your peripheral vision as he took off his glasses, setting them down. He slowly rounded the desk and you couldn’t help it when you instinctively took a step back.

“That’s a shame. I had hoped this lecture would’ve been helpful, but since you clearly weren’t paying attention, maybe I need to try another method.”

“I- I was paying attention…” You muttered, keeping your head down.

“Really? Then why don’t you tell me some of the ways one can overcome a fear of rejection.” He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. The feeling of his eyes on you almost made you shiver and you took a quiet, deep breath before lifting your head to look at him again.

This is an easy enough question. You can probably figure out the answer if you just use critical thinking since he was correct about you not paying attention.

“Um… cognitive behavioral therapy?” You waited and when he didn’t out right humiliate you, you assumed that was a right answer and continued. “Exposure therapy. Self esteem enhancement… Emotion regulation?”

“Anything else?”

“…You said “some.’” You muttered, briefly looking away from him again.

“I did, didn’t I?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t care about what he previously said.

“Um, I- I’m not sure…”

“Feel free to use your notes.”

Fuck.

When you looked up and saw the almost smug expression on his face, you finally snapped. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that for one day, I couldn’t pay attention after you humiliated me in front of the entire class.” You spat, clenching your jaw as soon as you finished speaking. The longer he stayed silent, the more uncomfortable you became under his gaze, making you look away from him awkwardly.

“Tell me why this shouldn’t affect your grade.” You knew his question was rhetorical, but you still tried to defend yourself.

“Dr. Crane,” You started, but he raised his brows, silently warning you to not talk back.

“I’ll see you later today during my office hours.” He said as he packed up his belongings.

“But,”

“Five pm.” He didn’t let you continue as he walked toward the door. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave.

At 4:30 you paced around your dorm, debating what to do. At 4:35 you decided not to go. At 4:40 you changed your mind. At 4:50 you were pacing outside his office. At 4:55 you finally knocked, feeling like you could throw up at any second. He called out for you to enter, so you hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside.

“Close the door and sit down.” He didn’t even look up from what he was working on. You closed the door quietly, then made your way over to the chair in front of his desk. You tried to sit there patiently, but he wasn’t saying anything. Your leg bounced incessantly as you picked at your cuticles, over thinking more and more with each tortuous second that dragged on.

“Professor?” You finally asked.

“You’re early. I told you to come at five and I need to finish this.” He still didn’t look up from whatever “this” was and you were quickly growing angrier.

Was this some kind of mind fuck? Making you sit here, stewing in nerves that were only getting worse? You weren’t sure how much time had passed because you didn’t want to check your phone and give him another opportunity to chastise you. But after a while, he finally sighed and gathered the papers, setting them in a pile on the side of his desk.

You forced yourself to stop bouncing your leg and place your palms flat on your thighs to keep from fidgeting, trying to exude confidence you were severely lacking.

“I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling to decide what I should do with you.” Immediately your stomach churned, getting even more anxious. “I could have you removed from my class, but that would be a lot of paperwork.”

“Professor,”

“I’m speaking.” He said harshly, making your mouth immediately close. “However, that does mean I’ll have to put up with this for another few months… So the paperwork might be worth the hassle.” You tried not to cry at the thought. You need this class to graduate— getting dropped from it will set you back a semester unless you add another course to your already heavy schedule for next semester. You waited, not sure if he was done talking or not. After another few seconds you decided to try again.

“Please…” You said hesitantly, waiting for him to snap at you again. When he didn’t, you continued. “Please don’t drop me, professor. I need this class to graduate.” He stayed silent, eyes dragging over your body as you did your best not to squirm. He still hasn’t said anything… Is he going to drop you anyway? With tears in your eyes, you tried again, “Please… Please I- I’ll leave you alone— I won’t bother you about grades anymore, I swear, just please don’t drop me.” You all but whimpered, feeling even more pathetic now.

He sighed and took off his glasses, then set them on his desk before leaning back in his chair a little, still studying you.

“I’d still have to put up with you in class as well though.”

“Please! I’ll sit in the back and not talk— I’ll do anything, just please don’t drop me.” You cried.

“Anything?” You stiffened a little at the dark expression that suddenly took over his face. Would you really do anything? You wouldn’t mind fucking him if that’s what he’s implying— despite his off putting personality, you’ve always been attracted to him.

“Y-yes?” You said, unsure.

“That didn’t sound very convincing and I’m not going to force you so I’ll just go through with the drop request,”

“No! I will— I’ll do anything… Please.” He continued studying you, probably trying to gauge if you were telling the truth or not.

“Fine. We’ll call it an internship of sorts. You’ll come with me to Arkham Asylum every Friday and help me in whatever way I may need— no questions asked.”

“I- I don’t know if I’m qualified for that.”

“Good thing it’s not an actual internship then.” He sneered, the patronizing tone making you blush.

“What will you have me do?” You asked quietly.

“It’ll be easier to just show you instead. Give me your essay and after Friday if I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll change the grade.” Your heart practically skipped a beat— all you have to do is go to Arkham with him for a day and you’ll get an A? You’d be stupid to say no. So you retrieved your essay from your bag and handed it to him. “Good. Six pm, do not be late. I’ll meet you in the main lobby to take you to my office.” He said sternly.

Since you left his office, your heart has been pounding. You weren’t sure what to wear so you just decided on a skirt and blouse that were professional, but still mostly casual. After that, there wasn’t much else you could do. You were too anxious to focus on literally anything so you just sat at home, overthinking. Friday rolled around and you left at five, just in case anything happened, and arrived at 5:25. So you sat in your car, waiting anxiously and watching the clock on the dashboard. You were too scared to even listen to music. At 5:55 you decided to go in, worst case you’d just have to wait five minutes for him, but you figured it’d be better to be early— even after what happened during his office hours.

It was only a minute before six when he showed up. The second he saw you, he gestured for you to follow, so you trailed after him on wobbly legs. When you arrived in his office, he closed the door and told you to sit in the chair across from him as he sat behind the desk.

“I want to make sure that we’re on the same page and I have your consent for anything that happens here.” The way he worded that made you nervous, but you chalked it up to the fact that you were already overcome with anxiety.

“Yes.” You tried to sound sure of yourself, but you were having doubts. What would he make you do? Would it really be worth a better grade?

“Good. Take this.” He picked up a small paper cup from his desk with one pill inside and handed it to you.

“…Why?”

“There are certain aerosol drugs that are administered to patients sometimes. That will keep them from affecting you.” He explained calmly, easing your nerves a bit. So you took it from him and swallowed it, waiting for what was next. “Follow me.” He stood up again, this time holding a briefcase, and you followed him out of his office. He led you down some hallways before stopping outside of a door and unlocking it, gesturing for you to walk in.

There was a small table in the corner and two exam chairs with restraints on them, one of which had stirrups. Other than that the room was bare. The door closed loudly, making you jump and turn around.

“Sit.” He ordered, walking over to the table and setting the briefcase down before walking toward you.

“Why?” You asked skeptically. He just stood patiently and watched you. You suddenly got hit with a wave of dizziness and stumbled to the chair to sit down. The dizziness quickly turned into exhaustion and you could barely keep your eyes open. When you started falling forward, he quickly moved closer to catch you, then leaned you back against the chair.

Your head hurt like hell and you forced your eyes open to find that you were now laying on the other exam chair, thankfully not with your legs in the stirrups, but with the restraints on your wrists. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

“The effects should wear off soon. I apologize for using that, but I figured you wouldn’t willingly let me restrain you and I didn’t feel like fighting you.”

“What… what was that?” You asked through a breath. You could slowly feel yourself getting less and less foggy.

“A drug.” He said, in the most annoyed and patronizing tone you’ve heard from him so far.

“Why?” You whimpered, closing your eyes again because they still felt so heavy.

“If you’re going to ask stupid questions then I’m just going to gag you. I already answered that.” You heard some rustling noises and his footsteps, then a hand was running along your cheek, startling you and making you open your eyes. “You remember our agreement?” You nodded hesitantly. It felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest with how hard and fast it was pounding. “Be a good little girl and if I’m satisfied, I won’t drop you. I might even change the grade of your essay.” You didn’t need the reminder, but the way he said the first part was making your stomach flutter.

“I have to say,” he removed his hand from your cheek and moved down to place it on your leg, just above your knee, “I prefer the sluttier skirts you wear to class than this.” He teased the hem of your skirt with his fingers, making you tremble. “Next week wear something shorter. And a more flattering top.” You figured by ‘more flattering’ what he really meant was more revealing. All you could do to respond was nod.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

He reached for the zipper of your skirt on your hip, making you stiffen.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked, beginning to panic again, and he paused with a sigh.

“If you don’t consent, that’s fine… There is still the matter of your seat in my class.” He said coyly. “If you want me to let you go, just say that. I’ll fill out the paperwork first thing Monday morning.”

“No,” You choked out. “No.. please.” You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack. He shushed you softly, staring at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Relax. If you consent to this, you’ll keep your seat in my class. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You nodded, looking up at him with teary eyes. “Good girl… Now be quiet and let me do this.” His tone was significantly darker and all you could do was tremble as he unzipped your skirt, then pulled it down your body before discarding it on the floor.

“I’ve been working on a new form of a drug.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a strangled whimper when he grabbed your leg and placed it in the stirrup, then used the restraints to keep it in place. “We’re going to try it together.” He grinned wolfishly and did the same to your other leg.

You heard his footsteps as he walked across the room for something, then back over to you, now wearing a latex glove on his right hand, holding a small bottle in the other.

“Remember, you can withdraw consent at any time…” You couldn’t though. Because you would be dropped from his class and set back months.

His hand landed on your thigh, making you jump a little, and he started slowly dragging it up. Once he was close enough, he brushed his thumb over your clothed mound, forcing a quiet sob from you.

“You probably thought this was going to go in a very different direction, didn’t you?” He asked teasingly, making you blush. Truthfully, you didn’t put much thought into your undergarments because you were too busy worrying about your actual clothes and what he was going to make you do. You cried out when he suddenly ripped the lace off your body, feeling the burn of the fabric pulling too hard against your skin. “Ready?” He asked, almost eagerly.

You saw now that the bottle was a clear liquid and when he squirted it onto his fingers, you assumed it was lube. As soon as his finger brushed your asshole, you stiffened.

“Wait!” You rushed out, chest heaving as your heart pounded in your chest. “I- I’ve never…”

“You’ve never done anal?” You almost thought he was going to give you sympathy. “Good.” You couldn’t even get another word out before he was pushing a finger in, making you tense up as you whimpered in discomfort. “Tell me when you start to feel it.”

“Feel what?” You said through a breath, trying to relax around the intrusion. Even though it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, your heart was pounding even harder and faster in your chest, and your breathing grew ragged. “Dr. Crane,” You whimpered, suddenly a million times more anxious than only a moment ago.

“Already?” He checked his watch, “That was fast. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Anxious.” You said quickly, letting out a strangled whimper when he forced another finger inside. “M-my heart is pounding and it feels hard to breathe.”

“That’s good… Anything else?”

“My hands are clammy… and it feels like I'm sweating a little.”

“No visual or auditory hallucinations?”

“What?” You choked out, eyes widening. “W-why would I have that??”

“The drug we’re testing is my fear toxin. It’s a hallucinogenic that targets the amygdala and releases stress hormones, causing a fear response in the brain.” He explained, only making you feel worse. “So far I’ve tested it two ways; administered intravenously and in aerosol form.”

“I don’t understand..” You said quietly, trying to calm your breathing a little. He let out an exaggerated sigh and forced a third finger inside you.

“I guess I should really expect you to.” He almost sounded.. disappointed. The realization made the twist in your stomach even worse. “Let me dumb it down for you. In its most potent form, it causes visual and auditory hallucinations of the subject’s worst fear.” If you weren’t currently on the verge of a panic attack with three fingers in your ass, you probably would’ve rolled your eyes at his tone.

“Now I’m testing it via rectal administration. The concentration is about the same, but the effects shouldn’t be as strong. At least, that’s my theory.” His fingers continued fucking you slowly, occassionally spreading apart to open you up more. Despite the amount of anxiety you were currently feeling, you could just barely feel your growing arousal.

“W-why would you want the drug in this form?” You asked, gasping for air between words.

“I’m a doctor. Why wouldn’t I experiment?” He asked rhetorically. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the anxiety rather than the arousal, but it was only becoming more difficult. A choked moan escaped you when he suddenly dragged a bare finger through your folds, spreading the evidence of your arousal. “Are you enjoying this?” His voice sounded unnervingly clinical.

In response, you bit down harder on your lip and shook your head, denying it. You could practically feel his eyes on you, studying you closely.

“I knew you’d be perfect for this.” He suddenly said, and you bit back a moan because he almost sounded proud. “You’re just pathetic enough and desperate for my approval to willingly become my little lab rat, and now look at you… Leaking onto my hand as I finger your ass.” He chuckled wryly. A dark blush took over your face and you whined quietly, but the flutter in your stomach was unmistakable. “I bet you want my cock also… Don’t you?”

You let out a choked sob and turned your head, trying uselessly to hide yourself. When he suddenly pulled his fingers out, you whimpered quietly at the sudden loss.

“Look at me.” He demanded, in a tone that left no room for argument. As if you were in a trance, you turned to face him and opened your eyes. “You want to keep your seat in my class?” He removed the glove and tossed it aside, then worked on unbuckling his belt and opening his pants.

“Yes.” You whispered shakily.

“And you’re willing to let me fuck your ass to ensure that happens?” He pulled his already half hard cock out and started stroking slowly as you gaped at it. How was that supposed to fit inside you?

“I- I’ve never..”

“It’s a yes or no question.” He sighed impatiently. “I fuck your ass or you leave and I fill out the form Monday morning.”

“I… I’m scared.” You whimpered, looking nervously between his face and his cock.

“That’s the whole point, darling.” Right. Because he was testing his fear toxin. You blushed furiously at the new pet name. “You have three seconds before I fuck you, then fill out the form anyway.”

Your stomach dropped at the threat and when he raised his brows, you blurted out, “Yes.” Tears were brimming in your eyes and he stepped closer, but didn’t line up yet. He just used his free hand to gently rub your thigh.

“Yes, what?” Your bottom lip began trembling when you realized what he wanted from you. “Say it. Beg your professor for it.”

“I- I want…” You let out a strangled sob and squeezed your eyes shut again, making his hand stop moving on your thigh to grip tightly in a silent warning. “I want you to fuck my ass… Please, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered. You’ve never felt more humiliated, but at the same time… you were only becoming more aroused. Your cunt ached to be filled, and your clit was practically throbbing.

“Good girl.” When you let out a choked moan at the sudden praise, he chuckled quietly. “Open your eyes. I want you to watch.” He demanded, lining up. Only after your eyes fluttered open, did he finally apply some pressure, entering you with little difficulty.

“Fuck- You’re so tight.” He hissed, moving his hand to your other thigh and squeezing almost painfully. Your breath and all of your sounds were caught in your throat as he pushed in deeper, not stopping until his hips were flush with your ass. “Tell me how it feels.” He said breathily, not moving yet.

“Big.” You whimpered, barely able to get the word out.

“Does it hurt?” You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing, but the overwhelming feeling of being stretched as well as the anxiety still weighing heavy on your chest made it feel almost impossible. “You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.” He sounded uncharacteristically dulcet.

When he reached for your shirt and unbuttoned it to expose your bra, your breathing picked up even more as your heart started pounding even harder in your chest. He pulled your bra down below your breasts and groped you eagerly, showing little regard for your pleasure with his rough, almost painful touch.

“Your heart’s beating so fast. Is my little lab rat still scared?” He cooed, very obviously mocking you.

“Professor..” You whimpered, staring up at him with glossy eyes as you struggled to cope with all of the overwhelming feelings, both physically and emotionally. He shushed you softly and brought his hands back down to rub your thighs, trying to soothe you.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it.” He said plainly. “You try to resist at all and I’ll keep fucking you until I finish, then you won’t have to bother showing up to class on Monday. Do you understand?”

You nodded reluctantly and he moved his hands to grip the tops of your thighs. He slowly dragged his hips back, then forward again, forcing you to feel every inch of his cock stretching you open. It didn’t… hurt. But it definitely wasn’t the most pleasurable thing you’ve ever experienced.

When he suddenly sped up, you cried out and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on taking deep breaths. He was grunting and moaning quietly with each thrust, clearly enjoying this far more than you, and you couldn’t help but open your eyes again to watch him. His grip tightened on your thighs, making you whimper, and you watched his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he closed his eyes.

“Fuck…” He said breathily, letting out a low groan before opening his eyes again. “I didn’t account for transdermal administration” He almost sounded amused again, but you could barely focus on his words. “The effects are far less than what you’re feeling, I’d assume. It almost feels like adrenaline, rather than fear. Next time we’ll try it intravaginally to see if your reaction is the same or more like mine.”

You almost forgot that this wasn’t a one and done. You have to let your professor do what he wants with you every week for the rest of the semester…

“And I think I’ll try the other forms of delivery on you as well. Not so much for an experiment… I just want to fuck you while you’re hallucinating your greatest fears.” His lips curled up into a small smirk at the thought of that. “I can’t wait to hear you scream and cry for me.” He cooed, but his tone was far from comforting and your anxiety was only getting worse as he continued sharing his future plans for you.

He started bucking into you rapidly and his sounds got louder, clearly getting closer to his release. You could even feel yourself just barely starting to inch toward the edge. Your moans caught his attention and a pleased look took over his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan and bit your lip, trying to quiet your sounds. “It’s either that or misattribution of arousal... but that seems less likely.” Even though you knew his guess was correct, you were still going to convince yourself that it was misattribution of arousal instead because that was far less humiliating. When he started rubbing your clit, any chance you had of keeping quiet was gone instantly. His moans got louder too when your body tensed up, tightening around his cock.

“Oh god— Dr. Crane, please.” You sobbed, feeling the arousal steadily taking over the anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

“What do you want?” Now that he asked, you realized that you don’t even know what you want. You wanted the overwhelming anxiety and stretch to stop… but the thought of him pulling out and ending this almost brought tears of desperation to your eyes. His fingers sped up on your clit and your back arched off of the exam chair as an involuntary mewl escaped you.

“Please let me come.” You whimpered pathetically and he let out a quiet chuckle in response to your brazenness.

“How curious…” He murmured, gaze dragging all over your body. “I’ll admit, I figured some part of you would enjoy getting to please me, but I never imagined it’d be to this extent.” He said amusedly and your blush darkened in response. “You want to come?”

You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish. “Please.”

“How about this— I'll raise the grade on your essay… or I’ll let you come.” You could see the barest hint of a smirk on his lips and you let out a frustrated sob, squeezing your eyes shut. “Well?”

“Dr. Crane…” You whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry. When you opened your eyes and stared up at him through the tears, his smirk widened. “Please..”

“Should I choose for you?”

“No…” You sobbed, looking away from him and biting your lip. The whole point of this was so he’d change the grade… You can’t give in to the pleasure now that you’re so close to finally getting what you came here for. “I- I want you to change my grade.” Your voice was barely a whisper. As soon as he got your answer, he removed his hand from your clit to grab the top of your thigh again, bucking into you rapidly as he chased his orgasm.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, my little lab rat.” He was clearly satisfied with your choice and while part of you was almost crying from frustration… another part couldn’t help but revel in the fact that you pleased him, even if it was at the expense of your own pleasure.

His hips snapped into you rapidly, the force of it almost pushing you up the exam chair, but the restraints on your legs kept you mostly in place. As he focused on his impending orgasm, you were practically mesmerized. He looked so… pretty. The pleasure in his expression was obvious and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. His normally pale blue eyes were darker as he took you in, studying every tiny reaction to his ministrations.

When he suddenly pushed forward all the way and stayed there, you let out a whine of displeasure, knowing whatever pleasure you might’ve been feeling before was about to disappear. But the choked moan he let out as he closed his eyes made you almost forget all about it. His hips bucked forward sporadically as his cock twitched inside you with each rope of come that shot out, filling you up.

Finally his sounds quieted into heavy breathing and his body went still. You waited anxiously for what was next, not sure what to expect. Opening his eyes again, he watched as he slowly dragged his hips back until his cock slipped free, forcing out a quiet hiss from him and a whimper from you at the sensitivity.

“Push it out.” His voice was raspy and still thick with arousal. When you pushed his come out, he let out a low groan as he watched, bending down a little to get a closer look. “Good girl.” He cooed, making you whine as the words went straight to your cunt that was still aching with need.

“You can remain here until the effects wear off. I want to see how long that takes.” He said, almost clinically, while checking his watch. Your eyes stayed on him as he tucked his cock back in his pants before collecting the lube and discarded glove.

“Are you going to let me go?” Your voice was quiet and timid as submission still heavily clouded your mind. He looked over at you again, almost surprised by your voice. He glanced at the restraints before dragging his gaze all over your body for a moment. Finally, he smirked a little and went back to what he was doing.

“Soon.” You sighed in response and stayed quiet. As you breathed deeply, trying to ignore the arousal still lingering in your stomach, you noticed that the anxious feeling was starting to subside a little. Your heart was still beating rapidly, but now it was hard to tell if it was from fear, adrenaline, or your own unsatisfied arousal.

“I think it’s wearing off.” You told him and he checked his watch again.

“What are you feeling?” He finally walked back over to you and stared at your face with an almost impressive level of professionalism, given the circumstances.

“My heart is still pounding, but my breathing is better. And I don’t feel very nauseous either.”

“Next week I want to test this again so I have a control group to compare these results to. It’ll be the same thing, but I won’t finger you for as long and I won’t fuck you until after it wears off.” He reached out and gently grabbed your chin, angling your face up to look at him as he stepped closer. “Of course… that’s assuming you still want to keep your spot in my class…” He trailed off, making the statement sound like a question instead.

“I do.” You said quickly. Especially after this… you were desperate to stay enrolled in his class, but you were also— as much as you didn’t want to admit it— desperate for more after he gave you this small taste.

“Good girl.” Your cheeks heated up instantly and he patted one with his hand before stepping back again. “Keep being my little lab rat and I have no doubt you’ll pass my class… maybe even with the grade you think you deserve.”

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #cillian murphy

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