#this could have been a one shot but the way we came up with a whole series based on one thing i told her djsjskdkd
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Caged In: Noah Sebastian[One Shot]
*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*
Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, slight smut, talks about anxiety and depression.
Summary: Noah feels himself falling deeper into the darkness and only one person can pull him out.
Authors Note: I'd felt compelled to write about Noah's mental health break and Just Pretend acoustic since I first heard it. I hope you all love it.
Tags: @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @thatchickwiththecamera @concreteemo @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @sammyjoeee @madomens @xxkittenkissesxx @burning-outx @shayzillaaaa @darling-millicent-aubrey @flowery-mess @badomensls @reyadawn @exitwoundsx @malice-ov-mercy @princesspeach-00 @lookwhatitcost @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @rxdlstgn @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @respectfulrebel @cloudykoookie @niicoleleigh @thisbicc @pathion @themortaljessica @tashka @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch
“Noah?” I called out into the vast darkness of our home.
The old bones of the home creaked with each step as I walked farther into the darkness, a deep frown settling on my face. I was certain he was home, the text I received from him hours ago told me so.
My Love 🖤: I’m going to lay down for a bit. Worked too hard in the studio.
I’d been out all afternoon with friends, catching up with them after not seeing them for a few months. I was hesitant to leave due to everything that came to light with Noah but he assured me with an almost there smile that he’d be alright while I was gone. He would keep himself busy in the studio.
“Noah?”
My voice met silence as I slowly ascended the stairs, realizing he wasn’t on the main level. It was so quiet, I wasn’t sure if Jesse or Michael were home. Both of their bedroom doors were shut and knowing that Jesse always kept his door open when he was home, it was clear he wasn't.
Softly knocking on Michael’s door, he opened it with a head full of messy bed head.
“Sorry,” I frowned when I remembered it was almost late evening. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, Y/N. You got my text?”
I nodded. Michael’s text was the reason why I’d cut my girls night early.
“Is he in the studio?” I asked.
“No,” Michael shook his head. “He met up with Ash for a lesson but I haven’t heard him come home.”
“He told me he was going to lay down,” I pulled out my phone to check Noah’s location.
At Home since 2:30 p.m.
“Noah’s been home all day,” I said.
Now it was Michael who frowned. “Why would he lie to us?”
“I have a feeling I know why,” I sighed.
The frown never left my face at this point so with a small nod, I walked down to the other end of the hallway towards mine and Noah’s bedroom. I could have checked here first, but the SOS text I received from Michael had me wanting to check in with him first.
As I approached our bedroom door, a soft sound touched my ears and I felt my world turn upside down. My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach as I hesitated reaching for the knob. I could feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes and let out a long breath.
We couldn’t ignore this any longer. The hiding, the pretending, and the lies needed to stop.
Pushing through the bedroom door, I bypassed the made bed and entered the ensuite bathroom, nearly faltering at the sight in front of me.
Oh, Noah.
The bathroom light was off, only lit up from the moonlight breaking its way through the glass of the large window above the bathtub. His large frame slumped against the shower wall, his toned and defined back to me. The intricate lines of his tattoo shivering underneath the water that most likely ran cold. Both of his hands were spread widely apart against the wall, keeping him anchored while his forehead hung low. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his hair, down to the water pooling at his feet.
Over the noise of the shower, soft cries echoed in the marbled space and Noah’s shoulders shook violently as the sobs tore through him. I stripped out of my clothes pretty quickly, not bothering to take my makeup off as I stepped into the large shower and wrapped my arms around him from behind.
Noah’s cries seized for a moment and I knew that he would try to pretend everything was fine.
“It’s alright,” I cooed, placing a kiss to the middle of his shoulder blades.
One of his hands reached for mine wrapped around him and brought it to his lips.
“You’re home early.”
I rested my cheek against his back. “You needed me.”
“Angel,” Noah breathed.
Pretty quickly, I slipped underneath his other extended arm so now I was facing him. Glancing up through the chilled shower water that hung on my eyelashes, I sucked in a breath when I noticed how bloodshot Noah’s eyes were.
“Oh, love,” I carefully caressed his cheek.
He hadn’t shaved in weeks and I desperately wanted to feel the ginger hair that lined around his mouth tickling the sensitive skin of my thighs.
Those almond eyes that were always filled with love, wonder, and light had begun to dull into nothing; darkness like the feeling that was beginning to dig its claws into Noah. I’d been afraid for weeks now that while I was away with work or other things that the darkness would swallow him whole. Which is why Michael texted me earlier, he’d become worried for his best friend.
“I’m fine,” his voice shook.
“No you’re not,” I gently shook my head. “You’re far from fine, Noah. You can’t keep this facade up.”
I felt him beginning to slip away from me, like he had many times before. Whenever I tried to get close to him, he would push me away with the lie that nothing is wrong with him.
“Stop,” I almost begged while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Please don’t pull away from me.”
Noah stood frozen underneath the chill of the water, the heat long gone and telling me he had been in the shower for quite some time. Behind those dark eyes told an even darker story of a broken man crying out for help. The war that waged in his mind was one he couldn’t continue to battle on his own.
“I can’t,” Noah shook his head. “You don’t deserve my demons. Your light is too pure for them, angel.”
My shoulders fell when he pulled away from me completely, the space between us was something I’d become accustomed too. Every time I tried to get close to him, have him open up to me, Noah created an even larger space between us.
“That’s not fair,” I wrapped my arms around my chilled body. “You don’t get to make that decision, Noah. It’s in our fucking vows that I’ll help you through these dark times.”
His face twitched and he cast his eyes down to his feet, a silent way of telling me he was done with the conversation. I did my best to not let my anger over take me because this wasn’t something he deserved. It wasn't his fault that the demons were winning. I needed to be his light in the darkness.
For a brief moment, I drank in the sight of his bare body in front of me as the droplets of water ran down the grooves of his muscles. I followed one particular drop of water as it fell over his cock and I bit my lip. It had been weeks since we were intimate last because Noah wasn’t at the right mental headspace for it. I never pushed him, letting him take his time. But as the weeks went on and the heated kisses turned into barely there pecks, my heart was beginning to fear the worst.
“Do you still love me?” I blurted out.
Noah’s head snapped up. “What?”
Turning my head to the side, I let out a shaky breath and wiped away the water from my face.
“I didn’t mean to. This isn’t about me.”
My name fell in a quiet whisper as I left Noah standing in the shower alone and wrapped one of the large towels around my frame, doing my best not to shiver at the chill I felt deep within my bones.
It was true. This wasn’t about me. I was supposed to be comforting Noah, not asking him a question I already knew the answer to. But I let those demons that were plaguing Noah affect me. I knew better than to let those win.
Turning swiftly on my heels, ready to go back into the bathroom to apologize, I nearly dropped my towel when I saw Noah’s tall frame standing over me. He wore his towel loosely around his hips and the wet tendrils of his maple hair fell into his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath as his hands quickly found my hips, yanking me into his chest.
“Don’t ever question my love for you, angel. Alright?”
His voice was soft, which surprised me. I expected him to be upset and gruff with my accusation.
“I didn’t mean to,” my bottom lip wobbled. “I can feel you physically and emotionally pulling away from me, love. I guess I needed that reassurance.”
I felt a subtle kiss to my forehead and found myself grasping at the sensation it filled me with.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Noah’s eyes glistened as he looked down at me.
We both sniffled at the same time and I molded even farther into his embrace.
“I love you too,” I proclaimed.
“I know,” he nodded once. “I also know that I’ve been pulling away from you and I don’t mean to. The demons in my mind keep telling me that no one cares. They keep whispering that no one will be there to save me.”
“That’s not true,” I began, to which he cut me off by wrapping a hand around the side of my neck.
“I know that. I’m trying to fight against them but it’s been so hard with everything going on. I feel like my mind and body are in a constant battle of what’s right,” Noah divulged with a tight grip on my neck, almost as if he was afraid I’d be the one to slip away.
“I’m locked in a cage with those demons. They keep beating me down, not letting me take a fucking breath,” his nose scrunched in an effort to keep the tears away. “They’re telling me to leave you because you deserve a husband that is home all the time, not on the road most of the year. You deserve a man that can give you all of his time.”
“Noah,” I grasped at the thick muscles of his arms, my heart breaking at the sight of my husband looking so defeated.
I’d known Noah since we were teens and given everything he'd gone through, I’d never seen him like this before. He’d always been the type of man that put others first, took care of his family before himself, and it became clear that I might not have been doing my part of a wife and taking care of him.
The chilled night air crept in through our open bedroom window, the curtains dancing to the music of the crickets outside and our gentle cries.
“I’ve lied to everyone. Pretended that everything is fine when it’s not. I’m crumbling into a man I don’t recognize anymore and I’m so fucking scared,” Noah burying his face int he crook of my neck, his tears mixing with the water from the shower that had yet to dry.
“Will you wait for me until I let you down?”
With a loving embrace, I began to sway Noah in my arms while his face was still hiding in my neck.
“I’m not going anywhere, Noah,” I promised. “I’m right here with you. Through the darkness. I’ll do whatever I can to pull you out.”
The silence from him was deafening, an eerie feeling that made you tip toe because you were afraid one wrong move would set it off. All of us knew Noah was a ticking time bomb and we all were careful with what we said around him. We gave him the space when he needed it, we didn’t push him when we knew he was lying about his feelings, but when Jesse and I shared a look the other night we knew we couldn’t tip toe around Noah anymore.
“Fucking bullshit!” Noah slammed the fridge door shut; the condiments in the door rattling against each other.
Jesse and I looked away from our card game at the kitchen table to see Noah slamming the kitchen cabinets now.
“Love,” I said softly. “Is everything alright?”
His eyes sliced into mine. “No, Y/N. I can’t find anything to eat in this fucking house.”
Jesse stilled next to me, ready to be on the offense if he needed. Noah rarely cussed, especially at me. But I patted Jesse’s knee softly underneath the table, letting him know it was alright.
This wasn’t Noah. We knew it.
“I thought you went shopping earlier,” I said.
Noah ran a hand through his hair. “No, it was your turn.”
My brows peaked. “Noah, you told me this morning that you would go after your therapy session.”
He didn’t utter a word, simply stuffed his hands in the pockets of his joggers before stomping up the stairs.
“Did you skip your session again?!” I yelled after him only to be met with the slamming of our bedroom door.
That night Jesse, Michael, and I all talked about how we would start helping Noah because we were hurting seeing him in such a dark place. Earlier tonight, Michael’s text gave me immediate fear which is why I cut my night early.
Michael: He broke his guitar, Y/N. It’s in pieces in the studio. I don’t know what happened but there’s blood on the carpet.
Back in the solace of our bedroom, I gently lifted Noah’s left hand to finally get a look at the deep cut along the tattoos of his best friend's name.
Keaton.
Thankfully with the shower, the blood seemed to stop but not wanting to risk it, I led Noah over to our bed and made him sit on the edge. As I stepped away from him, ready to get the first aid kit, his arms yanked me back to him which caused my towel to drop to the floor.
“Please don’t leave me,” he choked out.
My fingers worked through the drying knots of his hair as I bent down to kiss his head. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I’m right here with you.”
We stayed like that for quite some time, Noah sitting on the bed while I stood in front of him; his arms caccooning around me. At that moment, no one else in the world mattered, just Noah and I. Albeit our love might have felt at a standstill the last few weeks, we both didn’t need to fear anymore that the darkness would encompass us whole. We began to realize that in that darkness, flowers would bloom and we could grow.
“What happened to your guitar?” I asked.
Noah pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of my stomach and I shivered, body ignited with the contact.
“I was working on a song for you and I couldn’t get it right,” he admitted with a disappointed sigh.
He glanced up at me, resting his chin on my stomach as I peered down at him. The roughness of his fingers grazed over the growing heated skin of my back and I let the stress of wondering if he was alright ease away.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I brushed back the hair from his face. “It’s alright, love. I’m glad I’m here though. Is there anything you need from me?”
Another kiss to my heated skin; this time along the valley of my breasts. “Just you.”
“I should wrap your hand, in case it bleeds again,” I breathed when his warm lips continued to leave marks all over my skin.
Noah hummed in response and then pulled me down to the bed with him so we could lay in a mess of locked and naked limbs together. I lay on my back as he buried his face in my neck yet again, breathing me in. The head of his cock brushed along the side of my thigh and I let out a hushed moan, desperately wanting to feel it slip between my folds; it had been so long.
“Angel,” Noah grazed his fingers over my collar bone. “I crave to feel you again but my brain isn’t in the right headspace.”
I lifted his chin to force him to look at me. “I won’t push you, Noah. I’m here for you whatever you need.”
Oh so slowly, I saw the light behind the dark depths of his eyes begin to flicker.
“Can I play that song for you?” He asked.
My lips curled up into a smile. “You don’t even have to ask me, love.”
With a kiss to my lips, one that I wasn’t eager to let go off, Noah slipped away from me to get dressed.
“I still haven’t cleaned up the mess in the studio. Give me a few minutes?” He said after slipping on the house communal Chief hoodie.
“Take your time. I’m going to get dressed.”
While Noah was gone, I dressed in a pair of thin cotton panties and one of his shirts, his scent immediately filling my senses. I went about lighting a few incense sticks, the ones that always calmed Noah down and settled into bed when he stepped back inside. With the moonlight casted over his face, I could see more of that light return as soon as he smelled the incense.
I patted the spot next to me. “Saved you a spot.”
Noah practically bounced on the mattress next to me, my giggles echoing around the room. He sat across from me, letting the guitar rest along his lap as he stared intently at me.
“What?” I shifted underneath the blanket.
“I missed that laugh,” he blinked. “I’ll never fucking forgive myself for being the reason you stopped laughing like that.”
My lips parted to speak but he shook his head, silencing me. “I haven’t been the best husband the last few weeks and I know no matter how many times I apologize, it won’t be enough to make up for how I treated you and the guys. It’s not fair to any of you.”
I nodded as he continued. “Jesse mentioned that you’re worried about me going overseas for all those summer festivals.”
It was true.
Noah would be gone for weeks while I stayed back home for work and I couldn’t stop biting my nails with worry about how he would be. I knew everyone would take care of him but it did nothing to ease my own demons.
“I just want to make sure you’ll be alright,” I bit my lip with nerves.
Noah tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m not going.”
“Wh-what?” I stuttered.
“I wanted to talk with you about it first. With the stress of the CJ OST release and everything the last two years, I need a mental break. I need time to rest and do the things we always talk about but never get to do,” Noah said.
“So you’ll just cancel all the upcoming shows?” I asked, fingers grazing over the tattoos on his arm as he still cupped my cheek.
“I’ll still play UPHEAVAL and INKARNATION but I don’t think I should go overseas. I need to get my mind right again. I need to get back into therapy and talk to someone about these feelings. I know I have you but-.”
“Sometimes it’s better to talk to someone else,” I finished for him with a kiss to the inside of his palm. “Whatever you decide, Noah. I’ll support you. Although I do think this is a great idea.”
Noah agreed and for the first time in a long while, the smile that I fell in love with slowly crept to his face. I was captivated by it that I nearly missed his thumb brush away a tear, suddenly avoiding eye contact with me.
“I know the pain you hide behind the smile on your face,” I tapped his nose.
He playfully rolled his eyes before adjusting the guitar on his lap, strumming a few random notes.. “Well, funny you mention Just Pretend.”
I pursed my lips with confusion.
“Remember all those years ago when I told you there was a demo for it but I didn’t want you to hear it because I thought it wasn’t any good?”
The memory was clear as day in my mind. We’d just moved into this house with Michael and Jesse, two weeks after Noah and I had our secret wedding. We sat on the floor of this bedroom as he played for me Just Pretend; at the time what I thought was the original and only version. Besides the rest of the guys, I was the first one to hear the song in its entirety.
“What about it?”
Noah let out a long breath before the beautifully haunting melody of our song began to fill the empty space of air between us.
“I'm so afraid that the walls that I have made have locked me in I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.”
Immediately I picked up on the change of lyrics; these ones cutting even more deep than the original.
“So will you wait me out until I let you down? So will you wait me out until I let you down?”
I sucked in a breath when the words he cried into my shoulder earlier suddenly made sense. Unsure if he knew or not, Noah’s body began to sway with his music.
“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”
Quickly, I glanced down to the tattoo on the inside of my forearm.
Heaven knows I aint getting over you.
“I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by that I don’t wish it’d go away. So will you wait me out. Until I let you down? So will you wait me out. Until I let you down?”
I hastily wiped away the tears as they hung on my lashes, doing my best to not let the sobs overcome me. He sat criss crossed on the bed, the rose tattoo on his knee brushing against mine.
“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”
Noah’s eyes had been closed thus far but it was as if he needed to make sure I was still here, listening to him pour his heart out for me; like he did all those years ago. When our eyes met, I gave him a reassuring nod, urging him to continue.
“Can we try again when we’re not so different? Can we make amends? Why can’t we just pretend?”
I couldn’t stop watching the way his fingers strummed against the strings of the guitar. The silver colors of the moonlight highlighted the sharpness of his cheek bones, down to his plump lips as they sang our song.
“Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”
“Always, my love,” I breathed, pulling my knees to my chest.
The corners of Noah’s lips turned up. “I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”
Two years and a house full of love and laughter later, here Noah and I sat in the same position as he sang me his original demo for Just Pretend. My heart beat wildly in my chest, the noise roaring in my ears, as he finished out the song with a long, unsteady breath.
“Can we try again when we’re not so different? Can we make amends? Why can’t we just. Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”
Once the guitar was set on the bed next to him, I climbed into Noah’s lap, immediately crashing my lips to his. It was a slow and lazy kiss, filled with the fire of our love that we spent years building and restoring after many dark moments. His tongue brushed along my bottom lip, capturing what was left of my peach chapstick, humming in delight.
Breathless, I rested my forehead against his. “I fucking love you, Noah.”
The same thumb that brushed away his tears earlier brushed away mine. “I love you too, angel. I promise I’ll become the husband you deserve again. Those demons are still there but your love keeps them at bay.”
I pulled him down to bed with me, covering us both with the blanket as I held him from behind him. Noah would never admit it but he loved being the big spoon. It had been so long since we slept like this, always finding ourselves sleeping back to back.
“I’ll be here for you, Noah. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you,” a soft kiss to his sweater glad back.
He linked our fingers together, bringing them to his lips. “We plan on releasing that version on the soundtrack but I wanted you to be the first one to hear it.”
“Thank you,” I breathed in his scent.
We found ourselves in a comfortable silence and let the tears we shed together dry against our skin. Neither of us were perfect but those demons would no longer cage Noah inside his mind. I’d walk through the flames of hell to protect him from them. Just as slumber sunk its claws into me, ready to drag me under, Noah’s soft voice roused me from sleep.
“I dream in Hell and wake up screaming. Wishing that I was someone else. The static leaves me in a catatonic peace. I wanna finally sleep now.”
Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I raked my nails along the skin of his stomach underneath his sweater.
“Sleep now, my love. I’m right here.”
#tina talks#thefallennightmare#noah sebastian#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian and reader#noah sebastian one shot#noah sebastian fanfiction#bad omens#bad omens cult#bad omens fanficiton
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a tale of two cities | a cooper howard x reader
summary: you’ve been kidnapped by the Big Man. a certain bounty hunter comes to rescue you.
warnings: inaccurate fallout lore, obvious age gap, pre-established relationship, mentions of virginity, angst central, very brief allusions to previous sexual encounters, etc.
notes: wanted to try out a different writing style with this one. don’t know how i feel about it just yet! hope y’all enjoy, i love my sexy bone man so much.
“-Well now, you see what we got here, don’tcha? Young female, vital organs intact, high egg count-“
“What do you know about my eggs?”
In unison came a harsh “Shhh!”
You stood behind a counter of an “organ bank” that you knew was a front for something or another, eyelids heavy with annoyance as you listened to your captor bicker with the festering attendee.
“Can you please get this over with?” You were practically begging, knees sore from the long journey, and tongue dry from a lack of water.
“Didn’t your daddy ever teach you to keep your mouth shut when others were talking?” A man with a ratty face and browning teeth glared at you, the bowie knife in his hand glistening with the promise of an oncoming cut if you kept running your mouth.
You looked down at the ground, kicking at a pile of rubbish. You couldn’t help yourself when you muttered: “I never knew my daddy.”
“Bitch!” The man snarled, holding the blade of his knife to your throat.
The attendee at the counter stood up, placing a hand on your captors arm. “Now, now, Isaac. You know the Big Man doesn’t like his women all scratched up in the face.”
This supposed Isaac shot you a chilling look, before retracting his blade. The attendee spoke again. “I can give you seventy-five caps.”
“Seventy-five? You’ve got to be kidding me, man. This one’s worth at least ninety.”
“Ninety? She’s got a scratch, right there-” The attendee pointed in your general direction, muttering something or another about the Big Man.
You stood there, crossing your arms and staring at the ceiling. You counted each speck in the tearing paint, getting up to 962 different splatters, before they had finally reached an agreement. Apparently, you were worth 83 caps.
Hmm. Not bad.
“Alright ma’am, follow me. Right this way.”
You followed the mystery person, turning to glance over your shoulder. The ratty captor twirled his fingers at you, glancing down to shuffle through his caps. You snapped him your middle finger, rolling your eyes as you tripped over your own two feet.
Big Man was not a name you had ever heard of, and to be frank, you had no clue what was going to come to you. At best, you’d have a kidney taken out, and at worst you’d be sliced up for sandwich meat.
“So…. what is this place?” You asked.
“A breeding center.”
You stopped dead in your tracks. You were sure your eyes were about to pop and roll right out of their sockets. “A what now?”
“A breeding center.” The attendee repeated it as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “The Big Man has goals for our side of the Wasteland, you know. It all starts with young women and his seed.”
“I think I’m going to vomit.”
“Oh, please don’t do that, miss. The Big Man hates bodily fluids.”
“Apparently all bodily fluids.” You muttered, your feet dragging as you followed.
The man stopped at an iron door, motioning with his hand towards the entrance. “You may enter in to his office now. Have a good day!”
You were face to face with your apparent destiny. Behind that door, you weren’t too sure what horrors awaited you. A gigantic, gnarled, half-radioactive man who was more monster than human? A charming megalomaniac with a penchant for collecting limbs? It could be anyone, anything, for all you were certain of.
But enough guessing, now it was time to get your hands dirty. And other places too, apparently. With a deep breath you pushed the door open, coming face to face with….
The shortest man you had ever seen.
He had a blonde bowl cut and icy blue eyes, plump pink lips and freckles across his nose. The top of his head probably stopped at your breasts, and he wore a black leather jacket that was stained by the sun.
“Ah, there you are, miss.” He spoke like a toddler, his speech inflections odd and hard on the ears.
Enter: Sarcasm. The man exuded sex, really.
You didn’t know what else to do. You stood there blinking, unable to form any coherent sentences.
This was the Big Man? You could reach your hand out, place your palm on his forehead, and stop him from touching you, like a child trying to pester an adult. The thought made a smile grace the corner of your lips.
“You’re…. uh- you’re the Big Man?”
“Yes.” When he nodded, his hair swayed in unison with his movements. It was almost mesmerizing.
“Um… okay. So do I just- do I take my clothes off here?”
“Ew. No. That’s not how we do things around here.”
“But the guy outside told me it was a-”
“Yes. We will artificially inseminate you.”
You sat yourself down in a seat, staring at him as you tried to process everything. “What…. the fuck.”
“I know this is a lot to take in, miss, but rest assured you will get the upmost care here.” Big Man smiled at you, clasping his hands together as he tottered over to his chair. “Now, I just have a few questions to ask you.”
“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”
“Age?”
You answered him, still not fully there as you took in the room. Book shelves lined with tearing pages, framed photos from days gone by, bottle caps and vials spread about- it was the room of a rich man, that much you knew for certain.
“Do you have all your organs?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Very good!” He smiled, writing something down on his paper. “Okay, yes. Let’s see here… oh! Yes. Of course. Are you a virgin?”
“What?” You scoffed, almost insulted that he would ask.
“It’s a simple question we need for our records. You won’t get in trouble if you’re not. Well…. maybe a little trouble.” He pinched his fingers in the air, a mischievous giggle escaping his lips.
You were half tempted to lie, but also half tempted to see what would happen if you were honest.
The truth was- you were definitely not a virgin. Your eyes settled on an inhaler of drugs in the corner, your head swarming with thoughts of your Ghoul, of his hands, of his tongue.
Your eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.
“Hey there, little lady.” His voice was imprinted in to your brain, the twang of his words, the smell of his clothes. “What do we have here?” He eyed you as he inhaled the last supply of his vial, tongue sweeping across his lower lip.
You were splayed out on the desk of the abandoned building, legs spread, open and tantalizing for him.
“Here to serve you your dinner.” You whispered, shooting him a sultry wink. “Mr. Howard.” You added with a giggle.
Cooper had nearly pounced on you then and there, his head buried in your thighs in record time. His nails dug deliciously in to your skin, and your hands cradled his smooth head as he devoured your arousal, allowing your taste to burn in to his tongue.
“Um… I am…uh.” You were flustered now, and you couldn’t help but fan yourself with a spare piece of paper beside you. “No. No, I am not a virgin.” You finally stated.
“What?!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”
“Hey! You just said-”
“Terms and contracts my dear, terms and contract. Oh, this is not good at all. Not good. Well, we’re just going to have to dispose of you. Ugh. It’s so hard to find a clean woman out in these horrors.” He was moaning out in annoyance now, his voice pitiful and low. Blah, blah, blah. It all sounded the same to you.
You scoffed. “Whatever. I never even signed a contract.”
Big Man walked over to his intercom. “Keegan, we have another dud. Send in the reinforcements.” He spoke, eyeing you through narrowed, angry lids.
A few moments passed, and Keegan, who you assumed was the festering attendee that had walked you down to his office, had yet to respond.
“Keegan?” Big Man said into the intercom. “Answer me, my little peanut.”
God, this guy was weird. You stared at him with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow, trying your hardest to take this situation seriously. Okay, maybe not your hardest.
“Maybe a roach got him.” You shrugged, and the little man looked at you, scoffing as he shuffled through his drawers.
“He’s useless to me anyways. I’ll just have to do the dirty work myself.”
Neither of you had paid attention to the door opening, but soon the smell of gunpowder and dirt filled your nostrils.
You knew who it was without having to turn around.
“Allow me, my good dir.” The figure behind you purred, and you heard the sound of a lasso unhooking from a belt. In five seconds flat, Big Man was on his belly, wrapped tight in a rope.
“Cooper.” You muttered, giving him a glance from the corner of his eye.
“Little lady.” He greeted you back with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. “Knife or gun?”
“You asking me or him?”
“You.”
“Gun. He doesn’t like bodily fluids.”
There was a scoff. “Always were fuckin’ soft.”
A gunshot ricocheted through the walls, followed by a head thudding against the wood flooring. When you turned, the Ghoul was standing there, a hand on his hip as he inspected the chipped tip of his pistol.
You hadn’t seen him for months. You had gotten in to a fight, he had thrown some low handed insults your way, and it ended in a wrestling match that had you shaking sand from various crevices of your body for the weeks to come. The lonely, Ghoul-free weeks.
And to be honest, you had missed him. You had missed his dark eyes, his southern drawl, his witty quips. You had missed the way he’d hold you beside your fires, the way he’d practically dance with you while you were fighting off raiders and monsters.
With him, you had known some of the happiest times of your life. But according to Cooper, you were nothing but a distraction, a good time in the middle of a shit storm.
The thought made you scoff.
Yeah, just a good time. That’s why he just saved your ass. Well…. “saved.” There wasn’t much to save you from, and yet, he did.
“Why are you here?”
“Vials and caps in here.”
“How’d you know about it?”
Cooper rolled his eyes, turning to look at you over his shoulder. “I got my ways. Now leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone?” You scoffed, picking up a half broken figurine off the Big Man’s desk. You chucked it at his broad back, watching the fickle glass shatter against it.
He turned around in record speed, picking something off his desk and throwing it at you in return. You dodged it easily. “Don’t fuck with me today.” He warned, pointing the tip of his gun towards you. “I mean it.”
“Yeah right.”
Your name tumbled off his mouth low and slow, like a warning growl from a predator in the night. Your stomach turned, and you knew he was being serious, his barred teeth sent in your direction said it all. But for some reason you wanted to antagonize him, you wanted to make him feel pain. You wanted him to feel the way you had been feeling for what seemed like an eternity.
When he turned his back towards you once again, shuffling through boxes and shoving caps into his pockets, you picked up a dusty book, staring at the cover.
A Tale of Two Cities.
Raising your arm behind your head, you threw it square in the middle of Coop’s back, knocking him forward with a raspy grunt.
In two seconds flat you were tied up in his lasso and thrown to the floor, his weight resting on your body as he straddled your hips and pinned your hands above your head. His forehead was on yours, and he was growling through gritted teeth like a hungry tiger.
“Now, I gave you a warnin’, pumpkin. I think that was pretty fair of me.” His voice was deep, angry, and his eyes were aflame. “Don’t you?”
You struggled beneath his grip, gasping out for air as you kneed his stomach. He grunted out, the tips of his fingers digging uncomfortably into your wrist at the intrusion.
“Don’t you?” He repeated.
You finally gave up your futile attempts to struggle against him, your neck falling back against the floor. You stared at the speckles on the ceiling, swallowing. These days it seemed you didn’t have that much fight left in you. Exhausted seeped from your bones with every waking moment.
“Yes.” You whispered.
He hummed out in satisfaction at your response. “Thatta girl.”
His gloved finger traced over the edge of your jaw, and he breathed out quietly. His spare hand moved down your arm, tangling itself in your hair as the air grew thick with silence.
The Ghoul hummed out as his gaze traced over you, and you were unsure what emotion had befallen his features. He had always worn a mask of gruffness, of some dark, distant passed that you had never personally known.
“Should I kill you?” He asked quietly, an index finger tracing across your lower lip.
You were quiet, watching him examine you, as if he hadn’t spent countless hours getting to know every inch of you. Your body, your scent, your laugh- it was engrained into his brain. There was a you shaped crater in his chest. He was unsure how you managed to slip past his defenses, but you had.
He had become careless in his old age.
Yet despite it all, what a wonderful creature you were, to be careless with.
Cooper’s thumb was digging in to the dip of your cheek as he awaited your answer. “Should I?”
“I love you.”
The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, and you both stared at each other with wide eyes, unsure of what had gotten in to you.
“You what?!” 
“Ohh my God. Oh my God.” You were panicking now, unsure of why you would ever admit to something as embarrassing as that.
Cooper sat up, still straddling you, and looked up at the ceiling as he searched for words. He placed his hands on his hips, no doubt calculating what his next move would be.
Your next sentences were spoken in unison:
“Why would I say that?”
“Why would you say that?”
His eyes were stirring with emotions you had rarely seen him wear so evidently. Guilt, annoyance, bitterness- no longer was he the smooth talking cowboy. Not right now.
No. Right now, he had no idea what to do, no idea what to say. Hundreds of years of roaming the wasteland had not prepared him for this. Whatever… this was.
You sat up on your elbows, cocking your head to the side. Your thoughts were flooded by that night. The night you had seen him last, before he had knocked down the door to this office less than thirty minutes ago.
The campfire was crackling, a roasted slab of meat sizzling atop the embers. It had been a long day. An exhausting day. You were hungry, annoyed, tired.
The wasteland was full of assholes and cannibals, and it seemed on some days that they were all out to get you, and only you. The sound of boots behind you stirred you from your thoughts, and you smiled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.
“Hey trouble maker.” The Ghoul’s voice was quiet, tired, you knew he was aching after a long day, you knew no matter how much sleep he got, it never seemed to be enough.
“What if you never find them?” You asked quietly, poking at the flames with the handle of your gun.
“I will.”
“But…. how do you know?”
“I’ve loved her for two hundred years. I’ll love her for two hundred more if that’s what it takes.” He turned to look at you, and you knew he was telling the truth.
You swallowed thickly, jealousy coursing through your veins. You were the one who had been by his side for five years. You were the one who got him out of trouble, you were the one that had been there for him day and night, traveling the wasteland together, fighting off hoards of ungodly, unspeakable creatures.
And yet, despite it all, despite all the blood, the wounds, the sleepless nights- he only seemed to care about her. His ex-wife. The woman who had helped cause the end of this world.
“Who says she has?”
He turned to look at you, daggers shot in your direction. A silent warning to tread carefully- a warning you both knew you would not heed.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve loved her for all these years. How do you know she has, too? She doesn’t strike me as the loyal type, considering she’s part of the reason we’re here. You’re radioactive, I’m being hunted, the world around us is falling apart. To be quite honest, Cooper Howard, I’m not so fucking sure why you’re still hung up on her!” You had never been so heated, you had never raised your voice like this with him- but your ever growing resentment towards his mission had been festering for far too long, and now it was bubbling up at the surface.
That night he took you by the throat, holding until you saw stars. He offered you no words, he only choked you until he was sure he’d kill you. But something inside him wouldn’t allow for that.
What a horrible choice that was.
You slammed your heel into his groin, watching as he tumbled to the ground. With a mighty roar he tackled you, a face full of sand coming your way as he rolled you on to your stomach. While attempting to tie your wrists you squirmed away, kicking your knee into his chin.
For what felt like hours you two tangoed, wrestling until you were bound to give up. In a way, it was the most honest exchange you had ever experienced with him.
Two tired humans, fighting for something neither of them truly understood. It bordered erotic, the way your bodies moved and pressed, the way his blood tasted in your mouth, the way your skin felt between his teeth.
By the end of the night you both were laying down in a tangled heap beside the dying fire, and when you awoke the following morning, Cooper was gone.
In the dingy light of the office room, the memories of that night flooded your memory. You still had a healing wound on your neck the shape of his incisors, and your arms were calloused by the crusty scabs caused by his fingernails.
Above you, the Ghoul swallowed thickly. His hand moved from where it rested at his side, and he pressed it flat against your chest. For a moment he allowed it to rise and fall with each of your breaths, focusing on the feeling of your heartbeat on his palm.
“You’re a pain in my ass.” He whispered, sucking a rush of air in through his teeth. “Always have been.”
“Are you leaving me again?”
“No.” A long moment passed before he spoke again. “Because she was my wife.” He muttered beneath his breath.
“What?”
“That night. You asked me why I kept lookin’ for her. Because she was my wife.”
“Was?”
He looked at you, blinking slowly. “Was.” He repeated quietly, as though he had just discovered something he didn’t want to. The truth of the matter was- he had.
“Coop.” You whispered, cupping his face in your hands. His skin was rough and leathery beneath your fingertips, worn and aged by the harsh test of time.
“Did you mean it?”
“That I love you?” He nodded. “Yes.”
Cooper stared at you with sad, distant eyes. “I’d love you back if I could, sugar.”
“You-you could.”
He shook his head slowly, the brim of his hat gingerly shaking around his head. His finger traced shapes along the ridge of your brow. “I can’t. I don’t got anymore left in me. Been searchin’ for the same thing for so long, don’t think I can change my ways.”
Cooper eased off of you, sitting down beside you. His hand rested on your thigh, and you placed your own over it, staring up at the ceiling once more.
You counted 836 speckles before he spoke again.
“I can’t give you lovin’ but I can give you protection. And in this world that’s practically the same thing.”
“Don’t know if I could handle that, Coop.”
He let out a low sigh, pulling you close to his chest. “I know.”
You buried your face in his neck, hands grasping ahold of his arm as he hugged you. The Ghoul’s fingers were running up and down your stomach, your thighs, your sides- anywhere he could touch.
You both knew this was the last time you would ever see one another, and in the air a heavy feeling of burden hung low and dormant.
“D’you want to fuck? For old time’s sake?” He whispered in your ear, teeth gently tickling against your neck. Arousal stirred in your belly, and you knew it would be futile to fight against it. In this world, you had learned to give in to your primal instincts.
Turning to meet his gaze, you rested your fingers on his cheek, a smile falling across your mouth. “If you promise me something.”
“What?”
“If…. when you find them, will you send me a postcard?”
He laughed out loud, a chaste kiss being pressed to your temple. There was something sad to his chuckles, something neither of you had ever known before. Despite the feeling of emptiness that began looming within him, Cooper spoke once more, putting on that charming persona he had worn so many moons ago.
“What address should I make it out to, little lady?”
#studioghibelli#cooper howard x y/n#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#cooper howard angst#the ghoul#the ghoul x y/n#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul angst#fallout#fallout show#fallout fanfic#cooper howard fanfiction#the ghoul fanfic#angst#angst with a hopeful ending
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curiosity kills the cat
barca femeni x esmee brugts x reader
summary: reader faces rejection from her crush.
according to fans of barcelona, y/n had always been good at concealing her feelings throughout football matches. nobody never really knew what she was thinking when she had to take corner kicks, penalties, or other scenarios. she has a true poker face.
during her intense football training sessions with the barcelona team, she has more expressions with her friends, but sometimes they might not know how she's truly feeling. some of the older girls— like alexia and ingrid– will check up on y/n even if she is perfectly fine due to her secretive nature.
what the team doesn’t see is the amount of times the defender looks over at her crush, esmee, during their training sessions. both of the girls joined the team this season and y/n was interested in esmee’s shy personality since the first day. however, y/n had kept this crush a guarded secret.
she knew that the girls on the team would’ve teased her if she showed any hint about being interested in the dutch woman, so she didn’t talk or look at esmee in any special way unless she could easily explain herself.
after a hard-fought El Clásico match, with y/n getting two assists leading to a 3-0 win, y/n found herself alone in the dressing room with Esmee. the (reader’s nationality) girl was in the dressing room first, grabbing her stuff to take a shower, but the dutch woman came in second.
the rush of adrenaline and the rare privacy gave y/n some bravery. she knew that her close friends like jana, bruna, or ona would’ve teased her if they saw her doing this, so she knew she had to do it now or never. she took a deep breath and, with her heart pounding, spoke out in the echoed dressing room.
"hey, esmee, good game!" y/n started, trying to sound casual.
“hey y/n, and yes it was very good. great job on the assists by the way!” esmee smiled as she looked ahead at y/n. the girl blushed at the dutch who had a signature shy smile on her face.
“thank you! i wish i would’ve scored that one pass ona made but olga blocked my shot” y/n said as she giggled at the memory from half-an-hour ago. esmee nodded her head as she remembered the sight from the benches.
“yeah, i get it.” esmee said.
"yeah---um- es, can I–?” y/n cut herself off when she heard footsteps outside of the dressing room.
if someone on their team walked into the dressing room a second later, y/n would’ve said nevermind. however, the footsteps seemed to walk by and further away outside from the dressing room.
“can you???” esmee’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“i was going to ask if i can ask you something.” y/n said as tapped her bare foot on the ground in nervousness.
“oh yeah of course” esmee sat down on her bench and untied her pink colored cleats. y/n looked at the sight in front of her, distracted from what she was going to say, before she realized that she couldn't avoid esmee now.
“ I was going to ask if you'd like to go out sometime? we could maybe grab a coffee or something?" y/n smiled in nervousness.
“wait as friends or—?” esmee's eyes widened in surprise.
“as a date–” y/n quickly said. her heart raced as she saw esmee’s surprised look turn into a guilty, sad look on her face.
"y/n, I... I don't know what to say– I'm flattered, really, but I can’t go on a date with you. I have a girlfriend back home." esmee says, referring to her home as the netherlands.
the barcelona defender standing felt her heart shatter, her face flushing with embarrassment and horror. "oh– I didn't know. I--- I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to hold back her embarrassment as she realized that she was rejected from her own crush– who happened to be her teammate.
"It's okay, y/n," Esmee said softly. "I didn't talk about it much. I didn't mean to hurt you."
y/n nodded, managing a small, forced smile. "no, it's fine. i'm glad you told me."
a guilty esmee left the dressing room, not knowing what to say further. y/n didn’t bother going into the showers– she slumped onto the bench, feeling a wave of heartbreak and self-doubt. she began to question her own likability, feeling the sting of yet another rejection she received from a crush she had.
growing up, y/n had experienced having crushes like the average teenager. however, she had to witness kids around her experience the full relationship package meanwhile she couldn’t escape the crush stage. most of the people she liked never seemed to like her back. do people think i’m ugly? is there something wrong with my personality? and similar questions spiraled in y/n’s mind.
an entire group of her teammates walked into the dressing room seeing the girl with tears poured down her eyes. the team's captain, Ale, along with Ingrid, Mapi, Aitana, and Frido, gathered around her in shock. she was happy thirty minutes ago about beating madrid, what happened?
"oh no– whats wrong niña?" alexia asked, her voice full of concern.
"I-I just feel so stupid.” y/n said, criticizing herself over something the girls didn’t know about.
“don’t say that! you’re not stupid– what's going on?” ingrid said, pulling a bit of hair behind y/n’s ear.
“I—-fuck—-- I just asked esmee out, I asked her out on a date.. I didn’t know she had a girlfriend otherwise I wouldn’t have done that” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling. some of the girls were shocked, while the others felt guilty about the situation. If y/n came to them about her crush, they would’ve told her about esmee’s girlfriend back on her national team. they’re (also) surprised that y/n didn’t know about that.
“i’m not sure if its that serious– but i just feel so embarrassed and... unlikable right now." y/n shook her head and looked up at the ceiling in the dressing room, trying to hold back her tears from her eyes. aitana wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders as frido placed her hand on y/n’s knee, rubbing it gently.
"oh, y/n," ingrid said, sitting beside her. "rejection is tough, and i’m positive that esmee doesn’t think you’re embarrassing by what you did. there's so many people that like you.”
"being rejected by her doesn't mean you're not likable. it just means that esmee isn't available– it happens." mapi chimed in. y/n closed her eyes as she wished that she would’ve kept her mouth shut. eventually she would’ve known about esmee’s crush and could’ve moved on in peace. now she’s upset that she had to embarrass herself.
"there's nothing wrong with you sweetheart. you’re an amazing person– and i am not saying that just because you’re my teammate either." fridolina added on, her soft facial expressions looked at the younger girl with guilt.
despite their comforting words, y/n now couldn't shake off the feeling of being left out. everyone in the dressing room has a companion and a person to love with. she didn’t. now she feels worse.
"It feels like everyone else has someone, and I'm always the one getting rejected."
alexia squeezed y/n’s shoulder, remembering how she used to be in y/n’s position at one point. "rejection isn't a reflection of you. in fact- it has to do with the other person. do you notice how esmee rejected you because SHE'S the one in a relationship? not because there was something wrong with you– It just means that she isn’t the right one for you."
"exactly," mapi added. "you deserve someone who wants you, for you– and someone who happens to be available."
aitana grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "you’ll be the happiest girl on the pitch when your girl comes into your life."
y/n smiles for the first time in fifteen minutes, hoping that aitana is right.
“thank you guys, i appreciate your words.” the heart broken girl says.
--
happy pride month woso tumblr 🏳️🌈
<3
#esmee brugts#barcelona femeni#fc barcelona#woso community#woso fanfics#woso x reader#oranjeleeuwinnen#aitana bonmati#ingrid engen#mapi leon#alexia putellas
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First Date
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina Single Mom! Reader
Summary: Charles decides to take Y/N and Vidia out for dinner to celebrate his podium in the Canadian Grand Prix
Warning: spelling and grammatical errors
A/N: so @barcelonaloverf1life commented say that they wanted more parts to “meet and greet” so I was thinking of writing a collection of one-shots that fit in the fanfic universe of Charles dating a single mom if you’re interested
Vidia and Y/N we’re in the hospitality waiting for Charles outside his driver’s room. He came out wearing jeans and a button down shirt.
“Oh, do I look okay for wherever you’re taking us?” Y/N asked.
“Yes, you look great. And so do you Vidia, can’t forget about the little princess. We could just go to a diner.” Charles suggested
“Don’t you have a diet to stick to?” Y/N asked
“They have salads there.” Charles said.
“But you NEED to try a milkshake.” Vidia said, tugging on Charles pants.
“I most certainly will try a vanilla milkshake.” Charles told vidia. They walked to the car that Charles rented. “Now I’m glad I rented a 4 person car.”
“Quick question, are you sure your team principal will be okay with you going out tonight?” Y/N asked.
“As long I make it on time for practice 3 and qualifying tomorrow, I’m sure everything will be fine.” Charles said. He unlocked the door, opening the back door to help Vidia get in, closed it, and opening the passenger door for Y/N to get it.
“Always the gentleman.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled, closing the passenger door and walking around to get to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?”
“NDG Lucheonette, been a few times before, I like the food.” Charles commented. Y/N texted her dad saying that her and vidia were going out to eat, Vidia took a nap on the car, 45 minutes later, they made it to the diner. Charles opened the door for Y/N and she went to wake up Vidia.
“Princesa, we’re here, let’s go.” Y/N said and Vidia nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Y/N held her hand as they entered the diner.
“Hello, table for three please.” Charles said and the hostess led them to their table. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”
“Oh I’m a baker.” Y/N said.
“Mami owns a bakery.” Vidia said.
“Really? How’s it like?” Charles asks
“You have to wake up early in order to bake, we provide pan dulce too, you know, like bread to eat with your coffee or hot chocolate.” Y/N explains.
“Conchas with hot chocolate is the best.” Vidia said “Mami has a lot of customers, she makes birthday cakes too.”
“Oh wow, you are a very accomplished baker indeed.” Charles said.
“I’m the best in my city.” Y/N said,
“I should stop by your bakery whenever I’m in New York.” Charles said.
“That would be great.” Y/N said, the waitress came and took their orders.
“And you vidia, what do you do?” Charles asked. Y/N loves that Charles is also engaging with her daughter.
“I’m in school, I watch tv, color, play with friends.” Vidia started.
“And when we get back to New York, you have to start the reading list the school gave you.” Y/N said.
“I Don’t like school.” Vidia grumbled and Charles laughed lightly.
“I didn’t like school either, but reading makes you smart like Matilda.” Charles said.
“Who’s Matilda?” Vidia asked and Charles looked at Y/N shocked,
“Yeah, she hasn’t seen the movie yet.” Y/N commented.
“Matilda is a little girl who reads a lot of books, is very smart, and gains the power to move things with her mind.” Charles explained and Vidia’s eyes widened.
“I want to move things with my mind!” Vidia exclaimed.
“Then I guess you need to read when we’re back home.” Y/N said. The milkshakes came first and then the food. The date went well, they were talking, Charles paid, but unbeknownst to everyone, there were F1 fans at the diner who recorded them together. They got into the car.
“I had a great time.” Charles said.
“Me too. By the way, congratulations on Monaco, can’t believe I haven’t said anything about it.” Y/N said.
“Thank you, you saw the race?” Charles asked.
“Of course.” Y/N said.
“Mami was crying.” Vidia commented.
“Did you really?” Charles asked.
“It was your first home race win, of course I was going to cry, all of Ferrari cried.” Y/N said.
“Well thank you, where’s your hotel?” Charles asked.
“I’ll just type it in,” Y/N said and she did just that. The drive was kinda quiet, just Charles’s playlist in the background until he made it to the front of her hotel.
“I hope it’s not too forward of me to ask for your number.” Charles said.
“Well you met my daughter and took us out on a date, asking for my number is definitely not too forward.” Y/N said, Charles unlocked his phone so Y/N could type in her number.
“Thank you, I’ll see you two tomorrow, call me in the morning so I can give you paddock passes.” Charles said.
“I will hold you to it. Vidia, mi amor, let’s go, we’re here.” Y/N said, getting out of the car while Vidia stirs awake. Y/N carried Vidia out of the car. “Text me, Charles, don’t make me regret giving you my number,”
“You won’t regret it, I swear.” Charles said, Y/N carries Vidia to the hotel room and her dad is awake watching TV.
“Como les fue?” Y/N’s dad asked. How’d it go
“Nos fue bien, Vidia está muy cansada la pobre.” Y/N said, laying vidia down in the bed. It went well, vidia is really tired, poor thing
“Me trajeron algo?” Did you bring me anything?
“No papi, lo siento.” Y/N said. She felt her phone vibrate and it was a text. Sorry
Unknown number: Hello Y/N, it’s Charles, hope you and Vidia have a good night.
Y/N smiles at her phone and replied back to him.
Y/N: Hello Charles, we hope you have a good night too. You need to be well rested if you’re going to be in pole again
Both Charles and Y/N went to sleep knowing that there might be a new relationship brewing.
The End
Hope y’all liked it, I’m sorry if it seems a little rushed
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc#f1 fanfic
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I Think He Knows: (Chapter Four)
Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?
Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader
Word Count: 4,954
Warning: Language, fingering, hand-job, kissing, heavy description of genitals.
A/N: Here’s the update!! I'm sorry its so late. My wrist feels a lot better today!! 😘💚💚 thank you for your patience!!
Part One Part Two Part Three
You were glaring at your computer screen; the words struggled to come to you. Nanami was pleased with the changes you had made to your latest chapters; he said the kiss scenes were much more realistic, all thanks to your best friend, but as much as he liked it, it still didn't change the fact that your smutty mutual masturbation scene sucked balls.
“It’s getting there.” He glanced back at the words. “You’ve moved on from using meat stick to penis—while is anatomically correct, it’s not quite rousing. Perhaps try using the words shaft, dick, maybe cock.”
“Kento!”
“I’m being serious, how many erotic novels have you read where the writer uses ‘she grasped his penis in her hand’ no ‘she grabbed his cock’.”
“Right—”
“Then there’s the climax.” Nanami sighed, flipping through the pages. “Be honest with me; have you ever seen a man have an orgasm? It’s not like a fire hose in hentai—” A judgmental look was shot in your direction, which was well deserved. “It’s more like spurts.”
“Ugh, seriously?”
“Yes, and Oaklynn’s orgasm, you just described her facial reactions and breathing. Get into the pulsing or contractions she feels. Hell, make her squirt. Ilsan is a knight; he's been to brothels so the man would know how to please a woman.”
“Squirt—?”
The way Nanami deadpanned at you before running a hand down his face told you he had figured it out. He must have finally put the deli meat sex scenes, terribly written orgasms, and your lack of knowledge of female orgasms. You slowly sank lower into the booth with a flushed face.
“You’re a virgin.”
“You’re a virgin~” You mocked, sticking up your nose as the nightmares and flashbacks of your luncheon came to an end. Nanami’s suggestion to watch porn gives it a better understanding of how orgasms work. There was no way in hell you were doing that. “I don't need to have sex to know how to write a good sex scene!”
That statement was true, and having some experience would benefit you. It had kissing scenes. And it most definitely would help you with the grinding scene in the alley you were adding in. Suguru made things comfortable for you; he wasn’t pushy or manipulative. He was so gentle and kind, making sure you felt okay. You were so grateful for him, but after you started feeling weird last night and told him to stop, maybe he didn't want to keep doing stuff with you.
If you were honest with him, maybe he'd understand. But it wasn't very comfortable. It felt so intense, and you were all tingly.
Once you finished your rewrites, you would have to sit down and talk to him. You just hoped he didn’t think you were avoiding him after what happened. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can talk to him, get things back to normal, and maybe ask him to help you more. His lessons truly were helping you.
If only we weren’t having such a hard time with the stupid scene!
“Come on, just type it, dick, just type out the letters. DICK.” Your fingers hovered over your keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the screen. “It’s just a word!”
Before your fingers could even touch the ‘D,’ a fist pounded against your door. At first, you were startled; your heart lurched into your throat as your hand rested against your chest. The fist slammed against the door once again. If someone knocked at your door at 2:30 in the morning, it wasn’t a good sign. You were about to grab your phone to call Suguru when you heard his voice at the door.
“Answer, answer god, please.”
He repeated the exact words as you shove your lap desk off to the side before jumping up for the door. You open the door just as Suguru pulls his fist back to knock again. His face was pale, and his dark bangs clung to his forehead with sweat. The dark circles under his eyes were the evidence of the nightmares that he had been having and the lack of sleep.
Regardless of his appearance, your eyes still frantically searched him up and down. You were trying to find evidence of injuries or something that told you what was wrong. You could find no traces of anything other than his insomnia. He was in a white T-shirt and baggy gray sweats and stood there silently. Look of relief washing over your face. He just stood there. A look of relief washed over his face at the sight of you.
“Suguru? What’s wrong? What happened?” He doesn’t answer your frantic questions; instead, he grabs you, pushing his way inside your apartment and kicking the door shut. “Suguru?!”
You yelp as you both fall to the floor, his arms wrapped firmly around you as he holds you flush against his chest; your best friend is shaking, his breath heavy as he clings to you as if you would vanish if he let go. Seeing him in such a state made you sick to your stomach. He didn’t deserve to be plagued with the pain of what happened years ago. You knew he blamed himself for what happened with Riko. You wish you could take the pain away from him.
While that was impossible, you could be there for him when he needed you the most. So you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed, hugging him as tight as possible. “Thought I lost you.” He whispered, his hands clinging onto your tank top.
“Suguru—” you whisper, hands gently caressing his back. “You’re not going to lose me.” You feel him relax against you, shaking softly as he pulls back an inch. “Nightmares again?” His dark strands of hair cover his eyes, but he nods. “Sugu, oh sweetie—do you wanna stay the night with me?”
Your words seem to hit him like a freight train. The panic and fear in his eyes turned into relief. His muscles relax as he exhales through his nose. You reach up and caress his cheek, letting him know you are there, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm.
“Yeah, can I please?”
“Of course you can.” You lock the door before grabbing Suguru’s wrist and pulling Jim into your bedroom. “You can go to sleep. I need to finish editing this page before I lay down.”
As you sit back down, placing your lap desk in front of you, Suguru takes a moment to look around your bed. There are tiny Post-it notes and looseleaf paper spread out over your comforter, along with the mini spiral notebook you had in your purse. He had teased about it initially, but he realized that you need to jot down your ideas when inspiration hits you. So your stocking was full of the little mini notebooks you loved to carry.
Seeing that blissful smile tugged at your lips, in the warmth of the flush in your cheeks, made Suguru float with happiness. That joy that was brought on by notebooks was something he would never forget. He wanted to make you happy for the rest of your life. Not just with notebooks but a life you both could build together in a romantic relationship. Suguru wanted to give you the world on a silver platter because you deserved it and much more.
“Oh fuck, sorry, Sugu.” Small hands quickly removed the notes and the papers covering the other side of your bed. “Just transcribing and everything.” You motioned for him to lie down, patting gently on the mattress.
Suguru crawled into bed with you, covering himself with the sheet, before snuggling his head against one of your pillows. The smell of your favorite shampoo and conditioner had his nerves relaxing as he watched you glare at the screen. From the way your nose was turned up, you were deep in thought. His curiosity got the better of him, and he learned in closer, his eyes roaming over the screen.
‘Oaklynn’s face scrunched up in pure pleasure as her orgasm hit her. Her breathing was heavy, and Ilsan growled in her ear, pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina.’
Vagina?
‘That’s it~ such pretty sounds—nngh!’ Ilsan’s voice cracked as Oaklynn’s soft hand squeezed his penis, twisting her wrist as she stroked. ‘O-Oh gods! Oak~ Oaaak!’ A spray of cum coated Oaklynn’s hand, his sticky seed spraying all over her, pooling onto the mattress below them.
“PFFT!” Suguru tried hard not to laugh, his hand flying up to muffle the chuckle. But god, it was too funny!
Upon hearing the laughter from your best friend, your eyes snapped down. There he was, tears in his eyes, tanned skin flushing a rosy color as his eyes remained glued on your screen. With a tiny gasp, you slammed your screen shut before hiding your face in your hands. Your jerky, panicked motions seemed to set Suguru off more as he threw his head back, barking out in laughter.
“Oh my god! Stop!”
“W-Why was he cumming like a faucet?!” Suguru rolled onto his back, wiping at the tears.
“Stop it!”
“And using the words vagina and penis? I preferred it when you called it Meat Stick and Fairy Cave!”
You grumbled before moving your hands to push him. “Could you please stop talking!? Please, I know it’s bad!” Those words had Suguru jerking his head up, finding you flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes.
“It’s not bad—”
“Yes, it is! This screams, ‘A virgin wrote this! She’s never gotten any action,’ Which is true! How can I describe an orgasm when I’ve never even had one?!”
The truthful outburst left you panting as Suguru’s laughter abruptly stopped. His dark eyes were transfixed on your face before you got up, putting away your notes and laptop, and as you silently moved around the room, you could feel Suguru’s eyes on you. And they stayed locked on you until you crawled into bed with a sigh, curling onto your side.
The self-doubt was in your every move, from how your body tensed to your shallow breathing as you fought back tears. You knew Suguru didn’t laugh to be malicious, but it wasn't a confidence booster either. At times like these, you questioned if you were good enough to do this and if writing a smutty fantasy was what you were capable of.
Suguru frowned as he watched your body tremble, soft whimpers sounding in your chest. God, he felt like an asshole. With hesitant movements, Suguru inched himself closer to you. His hand gently inches itself around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Seeing that you didn't fight him or verbally tell him no, Suguru wrapped his arm underneath you, spooning you.
“I’m sorry.” His breath was hot against your cheek. “I shouldn't have been snooping, especially when you were in rewrites.”
“I-It’s okay. I’m struggling with it; I want to be the best I can, ya’ know?”
“Mhmm, I know princess.” The warmth of his body had you relaxing. “Can I ask you a question?”
You turned your head and pressed your cheek against his. “Yeah, of course you can.”
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” His voice was so smooth and sultry, making you shiver. “Like ever?”
It was true; you struggled to reach the mythical ‘Big O’ since you started masturbating. You felt like you would get close, it was within grasp, but you would fall short. There was a time you thought maybe you did, but the fact you had to question yourself was the only answer you needed to know that you had, in fact, not had one.
“No, I haven't; I think my fairy cave is broken.”
Suguru’s chest rumbled as he laughed loudly, giving you a tight squeeze. God, he had it so bad for you. You were so innocent and cute; you had such a good sense of humor.
“I don't think it’s broken.” His statement had you rolling so that you were facing him. “You just need to explore it some more.” His hand reaches down gently, resting it on your ass. “I could talk you through it if you want.”
Tingles ran down your spine as he squeezed the fat of your ass. It was a mixture of relief and excitement that your reaction didn't turn him off from the night before. Your hands moved, gripping his shirt gently before biting your lip. You had tried so many times before, but Suguru—he knew what to do.
“I don't want you to talk me through it—I want you to do it.” Suguru’s dark eyes went wide, his pupils the size of pinpricks. “If you want to.”
Your best friend leaned close to your ear before placing a kiss against it, and he moved further down to your neck, his tongue past his lips, kisses and little licks over your sensitive skin. The sensation had you squirming, your pulse racing in your throat, and a shuddering sigh left your mouth. Suguru sucked on your neck as his hand groped and massaged your ass. Your body felt like it was kindling with fire, a low burn in the pit of your stomach as he continued to pepper kisses over your neck.
“You want me to make you cum?”
“P-Please.”
“I’d do anything for you.” He grunts gravelly into the crook of your neck. “I’ll make sure you know what an orgasm feels like. That way, your already amazing writing is more accurate.” Teeth grazed over the skin, leading to your shoulder, as one of Suguru’s hands slipped under your shirt, trailing over your belly. “Can I touch you?”
“Y-Yea—aah—” his hand groped your breast the second he heard ‘yeah’ leave your mouth. He gently squeezed it, massaging it between his long, thick fingers. His thumb gently brushed over the nipple with every squeeze. “Mmm—” you pressed your lips together as your eyes tailed down, watching his hand move underneath your tank top.
Suguru continued to kiss and nip at your neck, trailing kisses so gently over your skin; well, his other hand pinched and pulled at your nipple, rubbing the bud between his fingers. The way your body twitched and jerked underneath his touch had his cock throbbing hard within the confines of his sweats. The breathless gasps, the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, gently gnawing at it, you look so fucking hot; he wanted to do more to see what other reactions he could draw out from you.
Suguru’s hand left your breast, slowly trailing down past your stomach before pressing his whole palm over your clothes-clad pussy. Being touched intimately for the first time had you jerking, eyes snapping shut. Suguru groaned, rubbing his hand over your pussy, feeling the warmth of your sex. You gasped as he pulled his hand away to his index and middle finger over your clothed clit. Your body jerked forward, your arms wrapping around his neck, hands sticking into his hair as he brushed over the sensitive bundle and the nerves a second time.
“Does that feel good?” Suguru asked, his mouth pulling away from your sensitive skin.
Your mouth fell open as your eyebrows knitted together. “F-Feels r-real good.” His fingers began rubbing against your clit in slow circles, drawing out a whine from your chest. “O-Oh fuuuck S-Suguru.”
“I got you~ I got you, don't worry.” His fingers rubbed faster, memorizing how you jerked and reacted, repeating the same movements to get you to respond more.
The intensity of everything was becoming too much for you to handle. It felt like your whole body was on fire, like a pot on the stove roaring to a boil. You needed more; you weren’t sure what, but you needed more of this, of Suguru. He needed to quench your thirst, to put water on the flames burning with every nerve of your body, and you knew that his fingers would be the only thing that could help you.
“I-I want more.” Your voice was so timid, making Suguru’s hand seize up momentarily. “Please.”
“You sure?” he asked, his voice dark and husky.
With a nod, you grabbed his wrist, bringing it up to the waistband of your shorts. “Yes, I’m positive.” You gently pushed his wrist down, allowing his fingers to slip under the elastic band. You could’ve sworn Suguru choked on his breath, his eyes widening in the low light of your bedroom as they glanced down to his hand that had breached your shorts.
Suguru wrapped his arm around you, holding you steady as his hand dipped lower, brushing against your slick folds. The initial contact has your head tilting back m as he groaned, feeling your delicate skin before rubbing at your clit gently. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, digging your nails into it. Your body trembled as you buried your face into his neck, whimpering against his skin.
“S-Suguru—”
“Is this okay?” Suguru moved slowly, carefully listening closely to your breathing and noting how you shook—memorizing each twitch, saving it for him to jerk off to when you fell asleep. All you could do was nod your head as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Seeing that you were doing so well, Suguru slipped his hand back further, his thumb rubbing against your clit before slowly sliding two fingers into you.
“Nngh!” You gasped out, pressing your lips against Suguru’s neck as you mewled. “Sugu~! Sugu~!” Your walls were beginning to flutter and convulse around him as he slowly curled his fingers in.
Feeling your hot breath against his neck, how your lips gently traced unintentional kisses over his sensitive skin had his cock throbbing hard. Suguru pressed into you, rubbing his hardening cock against your thigh. He slowly began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, wet squelched flooding the room as he rubbed your clit harder.
“I want to make you cum Princess.” He snarled against your cheek.
The vulgar words had you clamping down harder on his fingers. Your body was getting hotter, from your toes to your pussy, all the way into your stomach. That coil from a few nights before began tightening, coiling deep inside you. The intensity had you tugging on Suguru's shirt.
“S-Sugu~ f-feels intense a-again—Ah oh fuck it’s l-like before.” There was a twinge of uncertainty and fear in your voice. “I-I—”
“I know it's weird, but just let go. I got you—it’s going to feel so fucking good in a second.” His fingers moved in and out of your tight, wet heat faster, drawing out more gasps from you. “Trust me.”
“I-I do feel good, b-but—” Suguru hooked his fingers up, moving them in a come hither motion, causing your legs to shake. “Fuuuck! Oooh fuck!”
“God, you sound so good,” he whispered so softly you couldn't hear him over your moans. “So good.” Suguru had dreamed about doing this to you for so long, to have you underneath him, showing you how much you meant to him. It was a dream to have you clinging to him, gasping his name.
“Sugu—Suguru—” You could feel something coming; it was intense, making your toes curl. “S-Sugu—I-I—I think—!”
“That’s it~ that’s it, let go~ you’re gonna cum.”
His fingers pressed into the sponge spot inside of you. The pressure of his fingers and his thumb rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. You screamed into his neck, shutting your eyes tight as your thighs clamped around his hand. The pure fiery pleasure had your whole body and pussy convulsing as you cried out loudly, so loud Suguru heard your neighbor hit the wall with a ‘shut up.’
Suguru couldn't care; he wanted you screaming his name. He groaned as he felt your slick on his fingers, slowing down to help you ride out your first orgasm. "Shhhh, shh—princess, don't be too loud~" You panted heavily against his neck, tears in your eyes as the last waves of pleasure washed over you.
“Oooh fuck.” You wheezed out as Suguru gently pulled his finger out of you. “Oh my god.” As you rolled onto your back, Suguru quickly slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking your cum off with a satisfied growl. You tasted sweet with a tang of citrus; it was addictive. God, what would he do to taste it firsthand?
As he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, you rolled back onto your side and stared at him. Suguru smiled cocking an eyebrow at the almost unreadable expression on your face. “Yes? Can I he—eeegh!” Your hand brushed over his hard cock, catching him off guard. “W-What are you doing?” you say up on your knees, cheeks flushed with post-orgasmic glow and determination.
“I-I've never seen a man cum! A-And seeing that you offered to help me, c-could I watch you jerk off? O-Or maybe if it’s okay, could I touch you? Y-You’re hard, right?”
Your bluntness and straightforward request left your best friend gaping at you. You wanted to touch him? God, this was like two dreams coming true. But as much as he wanted to have your hand on him, he was afraid he’d blow his load the second your fingers wrapped around him. So he's going to have to compromise for now.
“How about I jerk off, and you can wrap your hand around me?”
“Okay! Um! Let's start.”
You sat back on your heels, swallowing hard as Suguru pulled the sheets off his body. You could hear your pulse pounding in your ears as you watched your best friend sit up, resting his back against your headboard, dark hair falling over his shoulder with every movement. Why were you so nervous? It was just Suguru’s dick, just your best friend, who just made you cum your brains out. Nothing about this should make you anxious! He was helping you! This was research!
But your research had your pussy throbbing as Suguru hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his pajama pants and pulled it down. When he did, his thick erect cock bounced, landing against his stomach with a hardy thump. It was heavy and thick, and it had you pressing your thighs together. The tip was a deep, dusty, rose color, dribbling out a clear substance from the tip. His shaft was tan; thick veins ran up and down as it twitched.
“Oh—” you whispered, taking in his well-trimmed pubes, admiring his happy trail that went from the bottom of his belly button down to the base of his cock. “Oooh fuck.”
“Yeah—” Suguru groaned, tilting his head to the side as he watched you with dark, knowing eyes. He saw the way you looked at him, your gaze lingering on his cock. “this is it.”
Suddenly, it became crystal clear why he had so many romantic partners. He was thick and big. You’re sure it would hit every place inside you that would feel good. Wait a minute, not you, his previous partners! It must’ve hit all the right places inside of them. It probably felt so good. Like how his fingers felt pressing that spot inside you. His cock had the perfect curve that would hit it just right.
“You good there? Did your virgin brain malfunction?”
In a way, it did, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that it had. “W-What!? No, of course not!” your eyes started to burn with a visible flush. “No.” Suguru just laughed breathlessly.
“I'm just teasing you, come here, I’ll show you what it looks like when a guy cums.” Your eyes slowly drifted back towards him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him stroking his shaft. His hand moved silly up and down, smearing what you could only assume was pre-cum over himself. “Fuccck.” he grumbled, “I’m so hard, I-I'm probably not going to last long.” That was okay with you. “You can wrap your hand around mine.”
With his invitation, you placed your hand over his moving your arm up and down as he stroked his cock. He didn’t go all the way down to the base. Instead, he focused his attention on the head of his cock. Each time, he stroked his cock, his head tilted back against the headboard as his legs spread. The muscles in his upper thighs constricted with each jerk. He looked so fucking good, like some sex god.
Seeing him in such a state had you trying to match his movements as best as possible and attempting to keep up with his steady but jerky pace. Your eyes wandered to where his shirt pulled slightly up, just enough for you to see the bottom half of his abs that were clenching with each stroke that focused on the head of his cock.
While his movements utterly entranced you, Suguru’s eyes were drawn to you. The way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, how your eyes roamed over him, focusing on the muscles in his stomach, before trailing back towards his cock. Your presence was enough to have him dribbling more pre-cum out. Suguru straightened his legs out, toes curling as his hand moved faster up and down over the head of his cock. He had it down so bad for you that it was going to be enough to send him over the edge.
“Oooh fuuuck~ fuck fuck fuck~” he growled through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah.”
Fuck, oh God, he looks so good. Watching him pleasure himself had you feeling warm and fuzzy deep inside. He was really into jerking his hand up faster, squeezing himself hard. He looks so fucked out of his mind, and you were sure if you could see your face, your expression with mirror his. There was something about watching him getting off that had your pulse racing in your pussy throbbing, your shorts were already wet enough, and you could feel more slick coating them.
Moving your hand with his wasn’t enough. Biting down on your lip, you pulled his hand away. “Hey, what ar—aah—” Suguru’s head lolled back as you wrapped your soft hand around him, jerking your hand up and down at the same pace he was going.
“O-oooh.” You were not expecting it to be as velvety smooth as it was. The feeling of his cock in your hand had awakened something in you. You leaned over him, resting your free hand on his upper thigh. Stroking your hand over his cock up and down faster and harder, squeezing it like he had done to himself.
Suguru threw his head back against the headboard, hissing through his teeth as his eyes watched your hand move up and down over him. He had the scenario so many times in his head and his wet dreams when he would stroke himself until he would cum all over his hand. The final push was to feel you touching him with such enthusiasm.
“C-Cummin! Fuck! I’m cumming Princess!” Spurts of thick white cum shot out of his tip, lashing out over his stomach and his T-shirt. It wasn’t all like a hose; it was small ropes, for it to be exact, that lashed out over him and your hand. “A-Aah!” His whole body jerked his abs, clenching as his eyes rolled back, and you continued jerking your hand, milking him for all you could.
“W-Wow, tha-that was hot.” at the sound of your voice Suguru shot his hand forward, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from continuing to move over his cock. “O-Oh, sorry—“
“N-No, you’re okay, just sensitive.” He grunted as he let you go, allowing you to pull your coated hand back.
You both sat in your bed, traces of your orgasm coating both of you as Suguru came down from his high. Silence filled the open air between you, but it wasn’t at all awkward; instead, it was thick with tension, sexual tension. A tension Suguru was familiar with while the feeling was alien to you. Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him, but something inside you prevented you from moving forward. Because this wasn’t a relationship, this was just your best friend helping you when you were struggling. It was nothing more than that.
Seeing as you were the only one capable of functioning, you got up and headed into your bathroom, grabbing a warm wet rag to clean you both off with. “Thank you for letting me do that.” You whispered as you cleaned off your hand before gently handing him the rag. “That was very informative, and I think it will help me with the pages. I’ve been struggling with it.” Suguru stared blankly at you, taking in your words as he wiped his cum off his stomach and shirt.
“Of course, I’m glad I could help you out.”
“Uhm, so do you wanna go to bed?”
“Yeah—yeah, that sounds good.”
“Awesome!”
After snatching the rag from him and tossing it in the bathroom, you crawled back into bed with your best friend. A man you had known since your childhood who you had grown up with. The two of you had been through thick and thin together, always there for one another no matter the circumstances.
As you lay down on your side, Suguru wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder if you both had crossed the line tonight. Or if you had taken a step towards a new chapter of your relationship? Those questions could wait until morning because you were only concerned about how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as you both drifted to sleep.
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Growing Pains
This one came to me as a combination of prompts from @thecoffeelorian (who sent Tech and Crosshair + Cadet as a prompt!) and @summer-of-bad-batch, whose week 1 prompt was water gun fight. Somehow my brain mashed them together and here we are!
Crosshair has trouble sleeping, but Tech has an idea for a distraction. Cadet Batch, brothers being brothers, pure fluff. ~1700 words.
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Tap tap tap.
Tap.
Tap tap.
Crosshair growled, rolling over in his bunk and kicking his legs out from under his blanket. “Tech,” he warned.
There was no answer. Crosshair lay on his back, scowling up at the ceiling. He reached down and rubbed his shins, wincing. They throbbed and ached.
More growing pains. He was so sick of them. Nala Se said they were normal, that pain medication wouldn’t help. Crosshair wished he could just grow up already and be done with them.
He lifted his hand, nibbling at the dry skin around his fingernails, biting at it until he tasted blood. He frowned, balling his hand into a fist and jerking it away.
Tap tap.
“Will you stop tinkering and go to sleep?” Crosshair hissed.
“Hm?” Tech asked from across the room, where he was working on a half-scuttled battle droid under the light of a single glow lamp.
What he was doing with it, Crosshair had no idea, but the nagging tapping wasn’t helping him get to sleep any faster. Especially not with the way his shins pulsed and ached.
“Put that thing away and go to sleep,” Crosshair snapped. “Haven’t you noticed it’s been lights out for hours?”
“You can usually sleep through my projects,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. He got up, padding over to Crosshair and peering closely at him. Despite the late hour Tech looked as alert as ever, though his brownish hair was rumpled and dark grease smudged his cheeks. “Why are you still awake?”
Crosshair sat up with a scowl. “Because you’re annoying.”
Tech raised his eyebrows at him, unperturbed. “I’m no more annoying than I usually am.”
Crosshair sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “My legs hurt,” he confessed.
“Oh. Growing pains. They’re no fun.” Tech paused, looking closely at him. He reached out and grabbed Crosshair’s hand, examining his fingers. “You should stop biting those, you know.”
“Shut up.” He yanked his hand away. “I know. I just -- I start and it’s hard to stop sometimes. Especially if something else is bugging me.”
Tech sat down beside him, sitting with him back to back. Crosshair felt some of his tension fade, and he leaned into his brother, closing his eyes. He was so tired.
But his legs twinged, as painful as ever.
“So why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked Tech, trying to keep his mind off his legs.
“I’m trying to figure out how to reprogram this droid,” Tech said. “Make it fight for us instead. I know it’s a training droid, so it won’t really be fighting at all, but it’s good practice. Maybe it’s something I could do on the battlefield, once we get our shot.”
“Huh,” said Crosshair, impressed. “That would be good.” He was quiet for a minute, thinking. “Don’t you get tired staying up, though? You could do this stuff during the day.”
Tech fiddled with his goggles. “I could. But we have other training then. I want to learn as much as I possibly can, but since we grow so quickly, that translates into less time.” He shrugged. “And I don’t really get tired when I’m focused. It’s as if I go into my own little world.”
Crosshair stifled a snort. That was an understatement. “I’ve noticed,” he said, but considered. He thought he knew what Tech meant. “Like when I’m planning a really hard shot? Everything else goes away.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Crosshair wished he had that kind of focus now. His legs ached with another horrible set of pulses, and he rubbed at them with both hands, swearing under his breath.
“It’s particularly bad tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Crosshair admitted.
“You know what helps me?” Tech asked. “Distraction. I may have just the thing.” He trotted back to his tangles of wires and tools. Crosshair watched him, wondering if they’d wake up Wrecker and Hunter. But Hunter had buried his head under his pillow, and Wrecker could sleep through anything.
“If you want me to tear apart droids with you, thanks but no thanks,” said Crosshair. He was okay with basic datapad work, but hopeless at the intricate stuff Tech managed to do without breaking a sweat. “They don’t make any sense to me.”
“You could learn if you wanted. You’re very bright. Not at my level, but still —“
“Tech.”
Tech finished rummaging in his pile of projects and came back to Crosshair, pressing something into his hands. “Here.”
Crosshair looked down at what appeared to be a small white blaster, but with a curious tank attached to it. He lifted it and heard it slosh. “What is it?”
“A water blaster,” said Tech. “They won’t let us have real blasters to practice with in here, of course, but I thought I’d try making something like this for practice.” He held up a little board of shiny white material with a black target drawn on it. “Where do you want this?”
Crosshair grinned. “Across the room. Give me a challenge.”
“You might find it’s more of one that you think,” said Tech. “You’ll have to account for gravity, and the minimal propulsive capabilities of this water blaster compared to the real thing.”
“Hm. I’ll be the judge of that,” said Crosshair, experimentally squirting Tech with the blaster between the eyes. Water dripped down his nose and splattered on his goggles.
“Very funny,” Tech said, mopping his forehead and lenses with his sleeve. He flashed Crosshair one of his little half-smiles. “All right, let me find a spot to stick this.”
“Try over here,” Hunter groaned. “Since you two are keeping me awake anyway.” He tapped the top of his bunk. “I think… it’ll take Crosshair four tries before he gets a bullseye.”
“Four?” Crosshair asked, offended, as Tech affixed the target above Hunter’s bunk, across the room. He took aim with the blaster, lining up his shot, figuring that the water would take a parabolic motion at that distance. He fired slightly higher than the target —
And the water splashed harmlessly onto the floor a good meter away.
Crosshair stared at the dry target, infuriated. “You didn’t tell me this thing had no power!”
“Well, look at it,” Tech chuckled. “Do you see a power source? I just put it together with some spare casing material and a simple plunger. It’s significantly limited. That’s why I had it set aside, I’m sure I could design something much more effective if I had the time.” Tech sat down again amongst his wires, resuming his fiddling.
Hunter yawned, sitting up and running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Maybe four was too generous. Maybe I should make it five tries.”
Crosshair glowered.
“What are you all blabbering about?” Wrecker mumbled. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”
“Crosshair’s trying out a new weapon,” Hunter said. Which was the wrong thing to say around Wrecker.
“What!” Wrecker cried in excitement. He tried to get out of his bunk, but was so tangled in his blankets that he rolled onto the floor with a thump. From there he propped himself up on his elbows, all hint of sleepiness forgotten. “New weapon? Where’d you get it? How’d you sneak it in? What’s it do? Can’t believe you were holding out on me —“
“It’s Tech’s. It’s just a water blaster, and not a very good one,” Crosshair said, taking aim, adjusting based on the disappointing performance of his last shot. He experimented by slightly covering the barrel of the pistol with his fingernail, narrowing the opening, and shot a jet of water out the end. It sailed across the room, falling short of the target again but hitting Hunter square in the face.
He grinned. That would do nicely.
“Oh that does it, Crosshair,” Hunter grumbled, wiping his face off. “Tech! You got any more of these things?”
“Yes, I made enough for all of us,” Tech said mildly. “Though as I said before, the design could be better…” He searched through his piles of debris and pulled out three more blasters, tossing one each to Hunter and Wrecker before whirling and squirting them both in the face with his own.
“Oh, it’s on!” Wrecker roared, rolling out of his blankets and squirting Tech three times, then training his blaster on Crosshair.
“Oh no you don’t —“
The battle was pitched and bloody. Crosshair leapt from his bunk to take cover behind the crate that held their dirty laundry, sending out jets of water that spritzed his brothers dead in the face every time. Wrecker charged him, wearing a blanket as armor, water from his blaster flying everywhere. Hunter circled around on the outskirts of the fray, catching Tech from behind, but Tech pulled out a secret fifth water blaster and squirted both Hunter and Crosshair at once.
They howled with battle cries, erupting into a mad scuffle in the center of the room, water splashing into the air, limbs a tangled frenzy.
“I’m gonna get you!”
“I’d like to see you try!”
“You’re all dead!”
“We’ll see who has the upper hand now!”
At last the battle came to a close. By the time they flopped onto their backs panting with exhaustion, Wrecker had a (self-inflicted) bloody nose, Hunter’s head was drenched, Tech’s goggles were halfway across the room and Crosshair had stolen all five of the blasters for himself.
“We should do this every night,” Wrecker snorted, pinching his nose shut.
Hunter laughed, elbowing him. “Well, it was pretty fun.”
“It was certainly a good distraction.”
Crosshair took aim with one of his blasters at the target over Hunter’s bunk. The spray drenched the bullseye perfectly. “There. Three,” he said in triumph, sticking his tongue out at Hunter.
“Haha, nice one, Cross!”
“Ahhh, I knew you had it in you. I only said four to piss you off.”
“Not that that is difficult.”
“Hey, that’s -- okay, that’s true.”
Crosshair lay on his back near his brothers, still catching his breath, his eyelids getting heavy. He put his hands under his head and stretched out on the floor. With the blankets Wrecker had managed to hurl around the room beneath him, he was pretty comfortable.
Comfortable enough to stay here, just a little longer. He yawned and his eyes fell closed.
He drifted off to sleep, and his legs didn’t hurt at all.
#the bad batch#summer of bad batch#cadet batch#crosshair bad batch#tech bad batch#tech the bad batch#crosshair the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#my batcher fic
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Mask On
Jake x MC - Smut One-Shot
The lovely @hacked-by-jake asked if I could write a smut scene inspired by this meme. I said yes, it’s been a while, and it was a lot of fun; I missed writing smut 🤭 all credit to HBJ; I wrote it, but it was her meme that inspired me enough to do so!
It's sex against a window! So they can watch themselves. And Jake can enjoy the visual of MC coming apart for him while wearing his mask.
It’s also available on Ao3.
With that out the way, I hope you enjoy it 🥰
The MC here is my Manon from Marked Me Like a Bloodstain and other stories. But you don’t have to read those to be able to read this. This is more of an “in another life, we might’ve done this instead” type of thing. It doesn’t fit their current timeline and can be read as its own story.
It is a dual POV. The names are in bold when they change.
———————-
The elevator ascended in slow motion. Or felt that way to Manon. She was a ball of frenetic energy as she stole glimpses of Jake from her periphery and edged ever closer. He was remarkably tight-lipped despite the filth that spilled from his lips a mere 24 hours before they arrived.
They were rising to the top floor of a swanky apartment complex he’d brought her to from the airport. She’d known he had a base home hidden in the city and was aware he had money stashed in secret accounts and cash buried in multiple places in Duskwoods forest. However, upon seeing this fancy building, she realized he was wealthy as she caught sight of the formally dressed doorman who required ID on entry and observed the expensive marble floors, polished to a dazzling shine, as they walked over them.
A thousand questions swirled in her overactive mind, but she kept it all inside as the elevator came to a sharp stop. Jake turned to her, a bashful smile curling the corners of his full mouth.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It might be a bit of a mess.” He said, sounding uncertain.
She sidled closer, slipping her hand into his to squeeze, and smirked as she replied, “After all we’ve been through, do you really think a little dust will frighten me?”
He chuckled, lovely and deep, and she fought off a shiver as he led the way out the open doors and into a red-carpeted hallway. The beat of her heart went out of time as they approached a black door, and Jake took out his keys. She let go of his hand and stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice how his hand shook as he turned the key.
An eardrum piercing, loud, robotic screech sliced through the peaceful quiet between them, and Jake hurried inside, beckoning her with a hand as he punched in the code to shut off the alarms.
“Well, that would wake the dead, never mind frighten off an intruder.” She joked to lighten the tension, settling on Jake’s shoulders as he loosed a sigh once the alarm silenced.
As he said, “I couldn’t let myself get caught unawares,” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck, continuing, “It had to be loud enough that I’d hear it through my headphones.”
She nodded as they kicked off their shoes, surveying the expansive apartment as Jake locked the door. Her eyes skipped the other closed doors she assumed led to his bedroom and the room she’d seen in their first video call. The sparsely furnished space held little personality; the most dominant feature was a massive dark couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She suspected the stretched around the whole building.
“I’m guessing they treat those windows in a way that allows only you to see out and prevents anyone from looking in?” She asked when Jake seemed anxious about her thoughts on how he once lived.
He gave her a sly smirk and slid a hand around her waist to guide her into the living area before he spoke. She watched him in the window reflection.
“You guess right. I can’t have a drone appearing outside and catching sight of me.”
She wanted to cry for him, but knew he wouldn’t want her pity. Manon did what she did best—distracted him.
“And where do exhausted hackers sleep when they finally run out of caffeine?”
With a suggestive brow waggle, she turned to face him and grinned so extensively that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could see her wisdom teeth.
Jake laughed, stepping closer and staring at her as he said, “We sleep wherever we fall. But I assume you’re looking to rummage through my bedroom. Unfortunately, you’ll be disappointed. There’s just a bed and a gun safe in there.”
“You really know how to get my blood going. Guns and a bed? What more could a girl want? Come on, show me!” She teased, grabbed his hand, and tugged until he allowed her to drag him behind her.
He laughed as she flung open the door and came to a stuttering halt.
“I warned you. I rarely used this room,” he said.
She cast her gaze around the ample space and shook her head. He hadn’t been lying. There was only a double bed and a safe cunningly disguised as a nightstand decorating the room. Or so she thought. Her feet were moving toward the black and white object hanging on a hook beside the bed. It was in her hands before she could recall giving her body the command to move.
Jake had worn the scuffed and cracked Guy Fawkes mask during his video calls. Without thinking, she turned it over and pulled the elastic attached to the back and shoved the mask over her head. It severely limited her peripheral vision, the hard plastic cut into her jaw, and it smelled slightly sweet and sour. A blend of chemicals and sweat, she thought.
She was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn’t notice Jake had gone wholly still as though petrified.
“Don’t tell me you actually wore this on a regular basis? It’s terribly uncomfortable. I thought it was just for me, so I wouldn’t be able to describe you if Bloomgate ever got off his ass and did some work!”
There was a long pause, and Jake seemed to take a steadying breath as she cut her eyes to him. He practically trembled as she frowned at him.
“What’s wrong? Is there some strange rule that only you can wear this mask?” She enquired when he only fisted his hands and groaned softly.
He shook his head. His pupils had blown wide, black swamping the blue, and his fingers spasmed at his sides as though he wanted to reach for her. It hit her like a slap, and she grinned behind the mask, adopting a nonchalant stance as her muscles went loose and she sauntered closer to him.
“Are you going to answer me? Or has an invisible cat caught your tongue?”
It was as if she electrocuted him. He shuddered, blinked heavily, and said in a sheepish tone, “What were the questions?”
She choked down a gleeful laugh and swished her hips as she approached him. Her dress swirled around her knees as she moved and she lay a hand on his chest to feel the rapid fluttering under his skin.
“I asked if you really wore this mask while working, Jake. Keep up, love.” She taunted, tilting her head and tapping her fingers over his pounding heart.
Jake reached up and rested his hand over hers as he shook his head, grinning freely, saying, “It’s an annoying accompaniment to my lifestyle. I have faith in my ability to prevent people from getting through my intensive security measures. Still, if someone manages to view me through the webcam, they won’t see anything they can identify.”
“Clever. Handsome, intelligent, and you have a filthy mouth on you? Are you real, or am I dead and in heaven?” She said in a sing-song voice, edging into his personal space until her senses were filled with him. She reached up and shoved the mask up so it rested atop her head.
He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and replied, “I don’t know about that, but I’m real. It’s you I’m wondering about.”
She smirked, winding her arms around his neck as she said, “And what are you wondering about me?”
Jake drew a deep breath, pulling her closer, eyes flicking to the mask on her head and back to her again.
“You’re wicked, infuriating, and so beautiful. I’m terrified I’ll mess you up.”
With a purr in her voice, she said, “If you don’t mess me up, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”
It wasn’t what he meant; she knew his fears of dragging her down with him, but she was prepared to fight for him. The air between them was electric. A thrumming current seeped under her skin and made her restless; her eyes dipped to his mouth. His gaze did the same to her, neither wanting to break the spell as the delicious tension threaded through them.
She felt like a moth at a candlelight vigil whenever she was around him—overwhelmed, unable to keep still, and desperate to share his light.
He pressed his forehead to hers. They were sharing breath, and her lips tingled as familiar impatience itched at her and demanded she push up on her toes and close the distance.
Time seemed to halt as she waited for him to make a move; her voice was little more than an airy breath as she said, “Do you want to kiss me now or later? Or both?”
His response was instantaneous. “Both.”
She chuckled, low and throaty, and said, “Good answer,” before taking the lead and digging her fingers into his hair to pull him down to her.
The first brush of his lips on hers was the sweetest. His deep groan as she plastered herself to his front and silently encouraged him to kiss her forcefully sent a wave of lovely heat rolling out from her center. He listened to her unspoken demand, much to her delight.
His hands splayed wide on her back. One slid up to cup the back of her neck, the other settled on the base of her spine and tugged her flush against his rapidly hardening cock. She almost whined as his bristled mouth bruised hers, coaxing her open, and his tongue slipped inside to slide along hers as she sighed in relief.
Glittering, scalding heat surged through her, turning her liquid between her thighs and making her hands shake as she lightly pulled his hair as though to drag him inside her. She forgot about seeing his hacker hideout as his sharp teeth nipped and his plush mouth ruled hers.
She wasn’t a religious woman, but when he kissed and touched her like this, she felt like she was holy. The silly, dramatic thought made her smile into his addictive lips as their breathing grew labored and their hands wandered.
She didn’t know where to touch first. All of him. Preferably draped all over her.
Her fingers roamed along his broad shoulders and back again, climbing up his neck to cup his bearded jaw as his tongue flicked in her mouth and his hands gripped her hips mean.
Chemistry sizzled between them like a pot of rich, thick molten chocolate begging to be indulged and she was nothing if not a greedy woman. His knee parted her thighs, and she whimpered as it pressed against where she burned for him.
The skimpy underwear she wore was already soaked as she wriggled against the hard length trapped between them and gave into the urge to grind down on his muscled thigh. Sparks shot through her like tiny lightning strikes. Their kissing turned wet, sloppy, and utterly filthy.
A thrill shimmered down her spine, setting her entire nervous system alight and making breathing difficult. What little air she could suck in. Jake stole it right from her mouth. Heat built to a blaze inside her and her empty cunt clenched in complaint as his hands moved to grasp her ass and began kneading her until she was in a frenzy of sensation and painful anticipation.
She nipped at his plump bottom lip, teeth sinking in and pulling, a whine leaving her as she felt him smirking into it. Her pulse flickered in her neck. The shake in her hands turned to a quake, and she needed him to touch her. She needed him to fuck her before she came out of her sweat and gooseflesh adorned skin.
He tasted wild and sweet and felt like home. A place she’d long given up finding until he appeared in her path. She was desperate to have him inside her.
Jake felt Manon’s distress as her body shivered and tautened under his hands. He hadn’t expected that her wearing the mask would have such a profound effect on him. His painfully hard cock twitched as he teased her tongue with his and bent at the knee, sliding his hands down the back of her parted thighs to grab hold of her and hoist her up.
Her legs wreathed around his waist and locked in place. Captivated by the little sounds she made and the way she fit perfectly into all his hollow spaces.
Her enveloping body was a warm embrace of sunshine, wrapping around him like a cocoon and melting the night’s chill from his bones. The heat emanating from her scalded him as he blindly walked over to the wall of windows and pinned her against it.
Freeing a hand, he flattened it on the window beside her head as his other hand tapped her thigh. She hesitated all of a second before catching on and unwound her legs from his waist as he reluctantly parted from her mouth to help her stand on weak knees. His heart trembled in his panting chest as she looked at him with eyes full of trust and smoky lust. Their emerald color had darkened to evergreen as she licked at her swollen lips and waited for his next move.
He eyed the mask perched precariously on her head and decided. She liked it when he bossed her around.
“Turn around, step back, and face the window.”
He moved away to give her space and smiled when she immediately did as he bid. The flimsy dress she wore had buttons from the neckline to the hem, all down her front, and his fingers itched to tug it open, but he held it back as she met his eye in the window reflection.
“Good. Now, put the mask on, Sweetheart,” he ordered in an undertone he barely recognized.
He watched her as she swallowed thickly and shifted on her bare feet. Time slowed to a crawl as he observed her hands lifting and grabbing the mask, slipping it down to cover her face as he nodded in approval.
A sparkling, fizzing sensation trickled down his spine and swirled in his lower back, sweeping through all of him and he was hard enough to hammer nails as he swept her long hair up in hand. He let the pale strands rest over her shoulder and dropped his head to the side of her throat he’d bared for his teeth.
He ran his nose down the elegant column of her neck and inhaled her warm, spicy scent and let it feed the desire racing through his bloodstream. She trembled as he brushed his lips over her rattling pulse and bit down. He banded an arm around her to keep her upright as she gave a muffled moan and her knees failed her.
The scent of her arousal, heavy with musk, was a humid warmth cloaking them both as he sucked and bit her skin, a swipe of his tongue over the small hurt so she murmured his name. His cock jumped at the sound of it. There were so many emotions packed into that four-letter name of his. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved them yet, but he wouldn’t tell her that.
He glanced at the window as his hands moved to her full breasts and cupped them, enjoying the weight of them in his palms as he watched them in the night dark window.
Manon stopped seeing the incredible view of the city as Jake teased her sensitive flesh, nipples stiffening to hard peaks, and the wetness between her legs turned to a drenching flood.
If he didn’t have that devouring look in his eyes, she would feel foolish wearing the mask, but his feverish touch and harsh breathing conveyed his desire was at a level she had never seen from him. Excitement turned her legs to water as he grasped the neckline of her dress. She gasped in shock and giddy pleasure as he tore it wide open. The fragile buttons were no challenge for him. They popped free and clattered off the window as he hurriedly dragged it down her arms and exposed her nearly naked body to his starving eyes.
Sweat trailed down her face as she ignored the ache eating away at her fast failing patience. Her mouth went dry as she saw his reflection take off his t-shirt and jeans, hands fisting at her sides as she waited for his move. His boxers and socks soon joined the rest of clothes on the floor and his fiery body melted into hers from behind.
She ground her ass against his hard cock. Wetness dripped down her inner thighs as her mind skipped ahead and she needed him inside her before she exploded from the ardour burning through her. She luckily didn’t have to wait long before his large hands were on her again.
He latched his fingers into the elastic back of her mask and firmly pulled her head back. His other hand slid around her hip and traveled to her weeping cunt, teasing her soaked folds through her underwear. His fingertips traced the shape of her like a rhapsody, each taunting stroke composing a symphony of desire that echoed through her entire being.
Her head lolled against his chest as he shoved the lace covering her aside and met no resistance as he plunged two fingers into her tight cunt. The strangled moan that left her seemed to bounce off the walls as she felt herself clenching to keep him from leaving her body. Slick and so hot, he groaned. She couldn’t think as he played with her like he’d always known her body.
Her pounding heart and rushing blood muted all sounds as those fingers moved within her taut heat and she ground herself into his hand at his whispered urging. Her cunt clasped and unclasped as he grazed her clit and sent a trail of wheeling stars scattering across her bare skin.
The hand holding her mask slipped to wrap around her throat and the gentle squeeze he gave her was a warning of what was to come. She couldn’t wait for it. The simple action sent her heart thrumming, and she panted into the plastic covering her face. Any discomfort it might’ve caused blasted away by Jake’s obvious delight in it.
His touch unraveled her like a tightly bound scroll, releasing a cascade of longing and urgency that surged through her veins like liquid flame.
Suddenly, he removed his hands from her and stepped away, leaving her swaying as her head spun and she blinked stupidly as he whirled her to face him and ripped the mask off her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and did the same with her underwear, lifting her ankles one by one to help her step out of them. He tossed them both aside without a care as he crowded her until her overheated skin met the cold window. She hissed in shock as her head thudded back to meet his ravenous gaze.
“I want to taste my name on your tongue as I fuck you,” he said in a voice like a growl.
She squeezed her legs together to counter the ache as her empty cunt clamped around nothing and her essence glazed her inner thighs.
She formed three words, but they were enough. “Fuck me then.”
His smirk was salacious. They pounced on each other, and he quickly caught her. She extinguished his midnight chuckle with a dirty kiss and he trapped her between him and the window. He reached under her to palm his cock.
Her hips tilted as he ran the fat head of him through her saturated folds and sank inside her so fast she had no time to prepare as he stretched and filled her so completely she didn’t have room for the air in her lungs. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, mouth agape and gasping as his hand smoothed loose strands of damp hair away from her sweaty face.
The maddening pressure built and built as he remained unmoving to let her acclimate to his sudden invasion. Her hips rolled, and she used his shoulders for purchase to lift and drop back down, taking him to the hilt, both groaning as she slowly softened for him.
He muttered her name as he let her breathe and studied her face as she shook in his arms. Part of her worried the treatment on the windows only went so far and someone in the building across from them might get the show of a lifetime. But most of her didn’t care if that was true. Let them watch.
Jake had gone still, muscles jumping and quivering as she made soft little noises of frustration as that intense pressure demanded a release. Her skin stuck to the glass and there was an audible sound as he peeled her off it and he at last moved. Shallow darts of his cock inside her to open her up and rile her further.
His strength thrilled her, no strain as he hefted her up and finally, finally slammed her down on his rigid cock. Her rapturous cry of pleasure sliced through their heavy breaths and the vulgar smack of flesh meeting flesh. Fingers dug into her ass as he fucked her, planting violets and giving him more leverage to ruin her.
Every deep caress of his cock inside her dripping cunt set her ablaze, a wildfire of untamed passion consuming her as she surrendered to the exhilarating storm of sensation. When he kissed her, she clung to his hair, fingers weaving through the black strands until she could use it to hold him captive against her whining mouth.
He tasted like sin, felt like heaven and looked like hers all at once, and she could only hold on. It was as though someone had flain the first layer of her skin to expose her nerves. Even the whisper of air pressing against her skin as his hand braced on the window sent a bolt of fire down her torso.
His lips branding hers, his thumping heart that matched the beat of her own, and the heady, clean scent of his skin. She wanted to never forget a single detail. They had earned this. Through blood and sweat and fire, they had earned this and she would be damned if she didn’t take all he offered her. Tension coiled in her core as his thrusts fell out of rhythm and each one shunted her up the window.
As his tongue teased hers, she yanked on his hair, feeling owned by him and getting swept away. Drowning in the blistering sea of their shared desire. The heat in her abdomen grew out of control, but it was nothing compared to the fire she had kindled in Jake. All the awkwardness in him had vanished, and he fucked her like he’d never get the chance to do so again.
He stole moan after moan from her. The sanity eroding tension coiled and coiled until it drove her to the brink of insanity and made it impossible for her to breathe. Her stuttering hips, his thick cock, and her clenching cunt were all she knew, her throaty cries smothered against his stubbled lips as they rubbed her mouth raw.
Hovering on the brink of shattering, Manon sobbed and rocked her hips, freeing a hand from his hair. She worked it between them. The tense skin of her stomach flickered as her fingers ghosted over it and she kept going until she swirled them around her swollen clit.
“Fuck, Manon,” Jake cursed as her inner walls clamped down hard on his cock, making her smile.
A little helpless sound spilled from her as she toyed with herself and the tension in her drew so taut she arched. Jake pounded into her mercilessly, giving her no room to calm down. The sensations and lust were so intense her mind fractured with jagged white light and she struggled to withstand the tremendous pleasure ricocheting through her.
Her body convulsed as she circled her clit and pushed herself to the precipice. Jake sobbed into her mouth as he felt her clench around his cock, burying his face in her neck as his forceful thrusts slowed a little. Bursts of darkness speckled the edges of her vision as her orgasm sparked its warning.
Relief glimmered at the back of her mind as her back arched again and Jake lifted his head to see her face. His voice was a sinful melody she’d been searching for from the beginning of time.
“Come for me, Sweetheart. Take me with you.”
Any thoughts she had left disintegrated at his words. Her fingers swiped that bundle of nerves deliberately again and again. The rough glide of his heavy cock inside her threw her over the edge and she splintered into a million glistering pieces. His kiss smothered her warbling moan of his name as her cunt spasmed around his cock and sucked him in deeper, dragging him down with her as he slammed home one last time and they soon sank to the floor as his legs failed him.
Her twitching, useless body slumped and practically merged into his as he lazily drank from her mouth and ran soothing hands down her slick back. She felt every jump of his cock as he spilled into her, and her inner walls fluttered as the scalding waves of her release rippled out from her core.
How long they sat there in a complete knot of disheveled limbs, kissing and touching. She didn’t keep count. Just reveled in it and in him, as he silently told her he loved her. She shivered from the chill settling in the room at some point and he instantly broke away from her lips, concern in his cobalt eyes that she rushed to comfort.
“I’m just a little cold. Take me to bed and warm me up again.” She winked and smiled softly as the worry in his gaze cleared and he gave her a proud smirk as he eyed the bite mark he’d left on her neck.
“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, but made no move to get up. She caught sight of the Guy Fawkes mask, and an enticing idea popped into her mind.
“After we sleep a bit and you’re able to go again, it’s your turn to wear the mask.”
A startled laugh burst from him as she nodded seriously and fixed her features into a haughty expression as he said, “Is that an order or a punishment for making you wear it?”
She gave an indolent shrug, committing his smile to memory and hoping to make good on her promise to christen every room in his apartment before they left for Duskwood. There was only one thing left to say.
“It can be both if you’re into it. Pain and pleasure, Jake,” she said in an imperious tone that made him shake his head and she patted his shoulder, jerking her head toward the bedroom door as she finished, “Come on, let’s get food and some sleep. You’ll need your strength later.”
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Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time. If you comment or reblog, thank you so much for that as well❤️
If I have time, I might write another part where Jake wears the mask. But I am busy with many other stories, and it won’t happen anytime soon.
I hope Sunday treats you well!
#duskwood fanfic#Duskwood smut#duskwood#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood everbyte#duskwood fandom#moonvale#moonvale fandom#fanfic#writing#fanfiction#smut oneshot#rough smut#shameless smut#jake x mc#duskwood oneshot#smut fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3 link#filthy smut#smutty fanfiction#moonvale fanfiction#jake duskwood#duskwood memes#duskwood mc#smut and fluff#humour#romance fanfiction#love and romance#one shot
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Blitzo had probably stayed outside of Stolas' palace for about a couple hours. He screamed, begging to be let back in, and tried every window and door, but they were all locked.
He didn't mean it. He never thought lowly of Stolas - it's Stolas for fuck's sake! He's a Goetia, he's powerful, he's gorgeous, he's charming - Blitzo just never thought that Stolas could ever actually care about him like that, nobody ever has.
Once it was clear Stolas wasn't going to let him back inside, Blitzo yelled, "You know what? I don't even need you!"
He stormed off with no destination in mind. Eventually, he found himself at a bar.
He spent the rest of the night numbing himself with alcohol, sex, and he might've been slipped some drugs too.
Only when morning came did he think about going back to the I.M.P. office. Blitzo managed to stumble his way back unharmed.
Everyone else wouldn't even know anything was wrong. Loona was used to him not coming home on full moons and all of them were used to him coming in late the next day.
Blitzo opened the door and trudged in.
"Good morning, sir," Moxxie said with too much enthusiasm. "How did it go? Do we still have the grimmoire?"
Blitzo gritted his teeth. He ripped the Asmodian crystal off his glove and slammed it on the table. "We don't need the stupid book anymore."
"Is that-"
"Yeah. Sto-" Blitzo's voice cracked. "He gave it to me."
Moxxie and Millie exchanged confused looks.
"Why did he do that?" Millie asked.
Blitzo ignored her question and went into his office, letting the door slam behind him. He sat with his head on his desk and tried not to think about anything.
The first one to try finding out what happened was Moxxie, slowly opening the door as if Blitzo was some wild animal that would run if spooked.
"Sir?" he said softly after closing the door. "What happened last night?"
Moxxie looked surprised to see the tears in Blitzo's eyes when he lifted his head.
"Nothing," Blitzo said. "Go choose a client for us today or something."
"Blitzo... If you're this upset, I don't think that will help."
Blitzo groaned. "I don't care. If you won't pick a client, then go find something else to do that isn't in THIS FUCKING ROOM!"
Moxxie had never been one for confrontation, so it was no surprise that he left after that. Not long after, Millie was the next one to come in.
"Heya, boss," she tried to be casual. "How ya doin'?"
"I'm fine," Blitzo growled. "But if we're not killing anybody, then get out."
"Blitzo..."
"GO!"
She appeared annoyingly sympathetic and said, "I just think you'd feel better if you talked about it instead of sittin' around and mopin'."
Blitzo slammed both fists on the desk. "What do you want me to say, huh? You think I'm just gonna pour my soul out to you?"
Millie gave him a look of pity - which didn't make him feel any better - and left. He grumbled and hid his face in his hands.
It wasn't until a few hours after Millie tried that Loona finally gave it shot.
"Hey so... You've seemed a little... off today," Loona stated the obvious. "I didn't really believe it, but was I right when I said he was getting bored of you?"
Blitzo glanced up at his daughter. She looked uncomfortable and worried at the same time. He guessed he owed it to her as her father to tell her a little bit.
"No. No, it was... the opposite, basically, and I fucked it up, like I do with everything," he explained.
"Well, not everything. You didn't fuck up with me, right? ...Dad?" she added after a moment.
"Oh, Loony," he said, ready to start crying again. She let him give her a big hug.
After awkwardly patting him on the back a few times, Loona slowly extracted herself from the hug.
"Umm. So..." Loona said. "Are you feeling any better?"
Blitzo nodded and Loona smiled at him before leaving.
It was nice to know that he had people who cared about him, who will stay even when he pushes them away.
Maybe even Stolas wasn't fully out of his life yet. Maybe he could try talking to him again later.
It was unlikely, but maybe, just maybe, it could happen.
#helluva boss spoilers#helluva boss#helluvaverse#helluva boss blitz#helluva millie#hellaverse#helluva spoilers#helluva moxxie#helluva boss stolas#stolitz#stolitz angst#angst#fanfic#post full moon#pre apology tour#helluva loona#this was meant to be fully angst#but i couldn't help myself#and i put in a hopeful ending#stolitz fanfic#helluva boss fanfic
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so I had a dream where Owen is drunk and outs himself to Curt...
do with that what you will.
Oh god 👀
Okay that could go a number of different ways, but fortunately, we all know how fruity Curt is, so let me try and take this in the least(?) Angsty direction that I possibly can...
Owen woke up on the morning of a bleak Sunday, with a headache perfectly tuned to the grey morning it had turned out to be, and a weight against his chest. At first, he thought it was a strange way the sheets had fallen over him, but then he came to realise that he wasn't actually in bed at all, but draped across the couch in the place he was temporarily sharing with his American operative partner.
And the weight on his chest?
Well… That was the American in question.
Laying on top of him. Fast asleep.
Owen startled, shifting so quickly out of this position— that was evidently comfortable for the both of them— that he managed to wake his partner up in the process. His eyes were wide, and he looked down towards Curt for an explanation, hoping to god that there was some way to rationalise how they had clearly slept the entire night.
"Mega? What the… hell are you doing?!"
He was beyond the point of words. There was something in the back of his mind that said he had done something last night that had led to Curt waking up on top of him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. They were talking last night, weren't they? Trying to get to know each other a little better…. And there was alcohol involved, as far as the headache revealed, anyway.
But he'd always been so controlled. Ever since figuring himself out, and figuring out for himself the reason his agency would want to hunt him down if ever they found out, he'd made sure not to drink in the company of anyone he wasn't comfortable with. While Curt was a nice man, as far as these things went, and while the two of them had been professional partners on more than one occasion, Owen wasn't entirely sure whether he'd go as far as saying he trusted him enough to get drunk in his presence.
But apparently, that very thing had happened the night before, and it had left them here.
The two of them resumed a position on the couch that separated them, and Curt shot him an apologetic glance. "Must've gotten late…" He excused quickly, lacing one of his hands within the other and trying his hardest to avert his gaze. It was hard to do that, though, after what the two of them had gone through last night… He was making excuses for himself, of course, because it was clear that Owen didn't remember what they'd talked about, at least not in the immediate moment.
He tried to offer a kind of peace. There was little he could do to explain the fact that he'd woken up— and had, in fact, fallen asleep— leaning against his chest, without Owen having the proper context as to why. Once the blur of sleep had passed and he'd woken up a little bit more, they'd talk it over then, but there was really only one thing he could do while the tension was still this high. "I need to wake up before we dive into… That. Coffee?"
Owen scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded blearily. "Please." And god only knows he was going to need it, too. How had he let himself make a mistake of this weight? How had he let himself slip, if indeed that was what had happened… There was no other explanation for it, and it was barely something he could blame on the alcohol.
He stared at the mostly empty bottle of liquor that was sitting on the coffee table as if the two of them had only just finished their late night of boozing, wondering what had been said and what he'd done to end up asleep… with another man… on a couch.
===
"Nah, c'mon. I barely know anything about you! sure, the first couple times we've worked together was nothing more than a coincidence, but damn, they're making us do it again, and I think there's a point this stops just being chance…" Curt pointed out, leaning against the counter in his kitchen. Owen had been assigned to the states, and because he'd worked with Curt a few times before, Curt had offered to put him up for the duration of his stay, instead of spending the time in some cheap, shitty hotel room, where he'd have to break his back just to get a good night's sleep.
But then he'd insisted that they talk, and that was fine as far as these things were concerned, but it was when he suggested bringing out the booze that Owen got a little worried. Sure, his assignment wasn't until the Monday, so he had the whole weekend to sort himself out (since he'd arrived early), but the thought of participating in such an activity with a man who he'd previously only worked with sparked a little concern. "I'm not sure…"
"You don't hafta work till Monday, that's on you for getting here this early…"
"Yes, but—"
"What? You don't drink?" Curt looked him up and down, and shrugged. "I mean, that's fine and all…"
"No, I… Do drink, but—" He couldn't think of a good enough protest in time, because the moment that he admitted that he was, in fact, partial to a good drink, Curt lit up a little bit more.
"Sure you don't wanna?"
And after that, he'd lost most of the fight that may or may not have been present in him. It had been a long flight and a longer journey, and the lag was starting to catch up to him. He couldn't deny the fact that the warm flood of whiskey in his system would've made the deep tiredness settling into his very bones a little more manageable. He conceded with a sigh, and an all too naive declaration of "I suppose a drink or two won't hurt," to which Curt grinned.
"That's the spirit!"
===
Curt returned to the couch in a matter of minutes with two mugs of fresh coffee, and as soon as Owen had his in his hands, he was absently tapping his fingernails against the warm porcelain. Part of him didn't dare to ask what had gone down, in case Curt had a perfect recollection of what he'd said, and it was something he'd rather not hear. But, at the same time, he was curious as to how the two of them had ended up as they had been.
First port of call was coffee. That was a necessary step in both waking him up, and trying to jog his short term memory even slightly. Last night, he had arrived in America, and he'd taken up the offer to drink with a man who barely crossed the 'friend' boundary, and then a series of unknowable somethings led to the two of them falling asleep together. And he was a little unnerved in knowing those events happened in that order, because that likely meant they'd made mistakes, where mistakes shouldn't have been made.
It woke him up a little more than he expected, and it dawned on him that he wasn't entirely sure when the last time he'd had coffee was, given that it was often far too strong for his tastes, especially first thing on a morning. This was necessary, though. He needed the rush to better explain the happenings of last night.
Curt seemed a little more relaxed than he was. At least he was able to sink a little into the sofa as he nursed his own mug. The only difference was that he looked a little more uncertain, as if it was him who had set into motion this series of mistakes, and he was the one with something to say about it.
"Where do we start?" It was the only question that really mattered, the only one he could think to ask that made any semblance of sense. Owen felt the tension in his shoulders, resting dormant and adding that annoying slight of strain to his every move.
"How much do you remember?" Curt asked cautiously, turning so that the two of them were better facing one another.
This was a question to which Owen tried to genuinely find an answer. He was trying to assimilate his memories, and what little remained beyond the haze of everything, but there wasn't a lot that he would consider useful. "Not… As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid. I made it here around seven, perhaps later… And I'd barely been here an hour when you suggested we… How'd you put it, 'get to know each other'. You suggested bringing out the spirits, and after the flight I'd had, there was little in the way of argument, so… I took you up on the offer."
"That's… Awfully specific." Curt hummed. "Thought you said you didn't remember a lot."
"That's not a lot."
"What time was your flight in the morning? Where from?"
"Six thirty, from the fourth terminal at Heathrow," Owen answered automatically, without having to think about it. Curt laughed, and it was in that moment that Owen realised that their definitions of 'not a lot' were likely vastly different from each other.
"Good god."
"Okay… I see your point… Other than the specifics, I don't remember what we talked about all too well… It's a little blurred, I'm afraid."
Curt hummed, trying to think about this in a way that made sense to him. He didn't remember a great deal either, but it seemed Owen had him outmatched for exactly how much. He remembered a little of their conversation, and what had gone down that night, but it was clearly something that was going to take the both of them to figure out. "Okay, well, I'm not exactly clear either. We got to drinking, right? Must've had a few, I swear that bottle was nearly full when we started…"
"Really?"
"I think so… Anyway, it was all casual at first. I mean, the two of us are barely friends, right? And I just wanted to get to know you a little better, like you said. So, we just started talking about ourselves… Y'know, how we got into spying, why you were in America…"
"Oh, right. Of course." Owen nodded, following along. How the two of them had gotten into the industry made sense, that was a good place to start. It was always a decent point of conversation in a professional matter, and especially among two who were so similar in nature after all was said and done. "I remember you saying something about… wanting to do something for the people that wasn't what everyone else was doing. Wanting to stand out a little from the crowd, is that right?"
"Yeah, that's pretty much the exact reason I got into all of this… It's less about wanting to make that kinda impact that everyone else is making, when there's the option for me to do something better."
"Makes sense, I can't say I blame you for that."
"And you're in the country to uncover some kinda arms deal, yeah?"
"One hundred and fifty grand's worth of explosives and arms. Quite the quarry, if I dare say so." Owen recalled that much from reading his briefing file in any spare moment he could while he was still alone. It needed revising when he was less hungover, but that was a problem for a few hours time. Right now, there was a more pressing matter at hand.
Curt whistled, impressed. "It'd take most people an age to make that much."
"Tell me about it."
The coffee was doing something to clear his mind enough that he was starting to see how the conversation played out last night. As a matter of fact, they had started the night seated in different places, and Curt kept subtly adjusting himself into different positions on the armchair as the time progressed. He was right, they had both taken several drinks each, and their conversations had taken a rather merrier turn. "We didn't stop at the professional, did we? I seem to recall bringing up things we'd done in the past, and you mentioned how much you hate getting intelligence jobs."
"Mhm," Curt nodded, Owen's phrasing bringing this to mind in exactly the right way. "Yeah, I do. God, they always make you get with some girl you've gotta charm all the way to the bedroom, and then you've gotta pretend like you enjoy that part of the job while she's taking your shirt off, and all you want to do is find out what her associates are getting up to behind closed doors."
That was mutual. Of course, there was a reason behind that hatred on Owen's end, but it wasn't like that was something he'd ever told anyone. He'd always taken Curt— so long as he'd known him— for the type who seemed happy to charm a woman and take those assignments in his stride. But the way he'd talked about it couldn't be denied… If he was more passionate about it, Owen would've said that he outright hated it. But, that only led to further speculation as to the reason why.
The penny dropped.
There was only one real reason why someone wouldn't enjoy the passionate part of the job, or the part that involved waking up next to a slew of different women all because information was needed out of them. There was only one reason why someone wouldn't enjoy the thrill of being with a woman, even just for a night.
The penny clattered to the metaphorical ground in Owen's mind. His face heated up furiously, to the point where Curt took notice.
"Owen?"
"… I think I know what I admitted to last night."
Curt sighed, a little out of it still. This progression didn't look good, especially not with the way that Owen had reacted to it. His brow furrowed, and he almost dared himself to ask him to continue. That, as it turned out, was an unnecessary step, since it seemed Owen had also figured out how they had ended up spending the night on top of each other.
"… Curt, if I may ask, there is a reason you don't like sleeping with women on the job, isn't there?"
It was just the two of them, as it had been the night before. There was nobody else around, and the whole reason this building was classified as a safehouse was because nobody could infiltrate, either. So, they had gotten drunk. Curt had admitted to the reason why he didn't like sleeping with women, and Owen must've agreed. The two of them had fallen asleep that night under the alarming pretense that they were just the same, when all came down to it, in the strangest and most sudden solidarity that one could hope to experience.
Curt seemed to want to freeze up, like someone had caught him out for something they really shouldn't know, but then remembered that they'd clearly gone over all of this the night before. He let the tension drop from his shoulders— something Owen really wished was that easy— and gave in with a resigning nod. "And you too, right? There's gotta be a reason we ended up…"
"Yes."
"So you're…"
"… Yes."
===
"Yeah, no it's never been my thing to get in with a lady… 'M not into 'em." Curt shook his head, emptying his glass with a single tilt of his wrist.
"Not into… Women?"
"No." Curt answered, a little too quickly. "Never was, don't think I ever will be…"
Owen nodded, for to a revelation like this, he had little in the way of a better answer. He was in exactly the same boat. The two of them were one and the same, cut from the same cloth. That made them more alike than he'd realised. "Me neither," He hummed, because his mind was clouded, and he didn't have the chance to think it through, but he didn't care because finally— finally— there was someone just like him.
Curt's eyes went wide, and he leaned forwards again to see whether he'd heard Owen correctly. "Wait, hol' on, you… You're… Y'know— like me? We're—?"
"I s'pose we are."
"What're the chances..?"
"Wouldn't 've bet on it, 's for sure. Not good odds, finding 'nother gay agent."
#spies are forever#saf#curtwen#agent curt mega#owen carvour#void offering#star mail#nova's tags →#i had a lot of ideas for this one. it was always just a matter of which one made the draft#there's surprisingly little chance that it'd end badly though#especially since curt's gay himself#if there's only curt in the room then theres no way it could go badly#but this is me. i had to make it at least slightly tense...
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-Blame it on... (p.js)
pairing: fwb! jay x f! reader
wordcount: 1.0k
content: smut, angst, heartbreak, mentions of alcohol and drugs, slight exhibitionism, idk what else...
note: hi I don't usually post ff on this account but this has been sitting in my drafts for like ever so here we are. It's been a while saur...
----------˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚----------
You only ever saw Jay when you were drunk, acknowledged his presence with a bottle in your hand. Why? You didn't know but the thought of not having your liquid courage in your system freaked you out. You needed the drinks to justify why you kept going back, and let him have you the way that he did.
When did it begin? It was at a frat party you dragged your friends to. Jake had just left you heartbroken and you were ready to be stupid and reckless. You and Jake had been high school sweethearts but he decided he wanted to fuck other girls and that you just had to deal with it or leave. So you left your four year relationship and it led you here in a random frat house, five shots in and your friends nowhere in sight.
That's where he came in. Park Jay. Energetic. Charismatic. Life of the party. He'd plopped down right next to you on the couch to rest and you, being a lightweight, cuddled up to his warmth. He didn't mind. You're hot and single. An easy girl looking for no strings attached. You were just the girl he'd been looking for or so he thought. Little did he know, you were gonna be the one to fuck him up.
So off you went together, getting even more drunk and high than you already were. Bong rip after bong rip until it was just you two in a bedroom upstairs. You, with your skirt unzipped and your top long gone. Him, with nothing but his boxers.
You knew it was a bad idea. Having sex with a stranger right after a big break up. But there was something about him that just had you wanting more. His aura was inviting, luring you into his trap. You needed him to touch you, hurt you. You wanted his soft lips on yours, kissing away the pain. You needed him to make you forget, needed him to ruin whatever's left of you.
Maintaining eye contact, you undid your bra and let the straps slip from your arms. You slipped off your skirt with eaze, not realizing you'd misplaced your underwear. You took it off earlier in the bathroom and forgot to put it back on before you left. It's okay though. You liked the thought of being easy to access. Anyone could have had you and you wouldn't have cared. The thought of it had your pussy wet. That's how willing you were to forget. To have someone distract you from your heartache. You're glad it was Jay who got to have you that night. You'd never tell him that to his face, though…
You let him explore your curves as you both made your way to the bed. You let him eat you out, which you've never let anyone do but you can blame it on the alcohol for your misjudgement. You let him suck on your clit as he pumped two fingers into you, curling up at your sweet spot. You moaned from the sensation, stars filling your eyes. You run your hands through his hair, gripping it tight with each lick he gives to your folds. You gasp as he becomes the first man to make you cum just from eating you out.
He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as he rubs the tip of his cock against your wet folds, lubricating it. He called you his good girl with each kiss as he let you adjust to his size, and maybe just maybe you'd let him be yours, but the thought stung too much. He fills you up to the brim, stuffing you with his length. He's definitely bigger than your ex. With him, you didn't have to pretend.
You let him be as rough as he wanted with you. You didn't care. You needed to feel something. You wanted this man to erase the touch of another. You wanted him to fill you up in each and every hole you had to offer. You wanted each and every drop of his cum to fill you up. You needed him to treat you like the whore you are, so you won't fall in love again.
So he did. With each sharp thrust, he first came inside your pussy, astonished at how much you begged him to, refusing to even think of the consequences. You then cleaned him up with your mouth, getting him hard again with the swirl of your tongue until he came deep in your throat. Eyes puffy, you swallowed all of it with a smile. That was a first for him, and fuck he wanted you so bad. Before you knew it, he was buried deep in your ass, rearranging your guts as he came for the last time that night, achieving the goal you set for yourself.
That's how it started.
Afterwards, you woke up sore with a pounding headache. Hickeys littered your chest, neck and thighs. Dried cum stuck to your skin...and Jay. He was sleeping so peacefully by your side. You almost wanted to
kiss his pretty face, wanting to snuggle up to his side and breathe in his fragrance. But you didn't.
Instead, you got up slowly as memories of last night came flooding back. Was it a mistake? Maybe. A mistake you'll keep coming back to. A mistake you sought out when you were drunk and sad at night and had nowhere else to go but his apartment.
And Jay? He didn't mind that you only ever saw him when you were drunk. Although, he wished you'd let him take you out one of these days. It used to drive him crazy when this all started. You, refusing to even talk to him about what you were. Rejecting him whenever he'd tried anything while you were sober. Was he really that awful in bed that you needed liquor just to sleep with him? He tried breaking it off before. Ending this stupid game of cat and mouse. Why should he have to deal with your fucked up heart? But then he'd miss you and he'd come crawling back. It's whatever though. Having you like this was better than nothing...right?
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A Love/Hate Relationship - a CS modern AU one-shot
I wrote this story because I was in need of fluff, humor and hurt/comfort after the painful experience of losing two dogs in less than a year. Zeke, who was in my story Sowing Seeds of Trust, died of cancer last June. Two months later, we adopted Winston, who was the main character in Pet for Rent. Somehow, he swallowed part of a brush (while he wasn't at home) which perforated his intestines and caused internal bleeding. He died May 23. Writing my favorite trope for my favorite couple is therapeutic for me as I deal with my heartbreak.
Many thanks to @kmomof4 and @hookedmom.
Summary: Killian Jones' neighbor, Emma Swan, has hated him since the first day they met. When she finds out he came down with the flu and attempts to nurse him back to health, he's more than a little confused.
Rating: T
Words: 2582
Also posted to ffn and Ao3
Story is under the cut
*********
Killian Jones buried his face in a pillow and pulled it up over his head in an attempt to stop the incessant pounding. After several painful moments, he realized the noise wasn’t in his head, but was coming from the front door of his apartment.
Groaning, he tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting with his head in his hands for a short while. When he finally got to his feet, he swayed dizzily and stumbled into the door frame, leaning against it to try to regain his balance.
He eventually made his way across the living room, unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. “What?” he demanded loudly, regretting it immediately when a sharp pain shot behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut before even registering who was on the other side of the door.
“Jones, how many times do I have to tell you to…Wow! You look like hell.”
Killian cracked his eyes open enough to see his neighbor from across the hall, Emma Swan. Infuriating to the highest degree and just as beautiful, she was the last person he wanted to see while he was in his current state. The two of them had a love/hate relationship…minus the love.
They had gotten off on the wrong foot when he moved in a little over a year ago. Unaware that she was a police officer who worked the night shift, he woke her up shouting orders at the movers. Emma Swan was not a morning person, especially after working an eight hour shift on the streets of Boston, and she informed him of it in no uncertain terms.
After that day, every interaction between them was filled with tension and snarkiness. Killian wished they could go back to when they met and start over again, because he knew she was basing her hatred of him on that first impression. In all honesty, he was quite intrigued by the fierce blonde and would like to know if there was a sweet or funny side of her she kept hidden very deep inside. Very, very deep.
Now she was here, standing at his door, scrutinizing him like a bug squashed on the bottom of her shoe. “Hangover?” she smirked.
He sighed. “I have the flu, Swan. It’s been going around at the office and I wasn’t lucky enough to avoid it. Now, if you’re done yelling at me, is there something I can help you with? If not, I’d really like to go back to bed.”
She took a step forward and unexpectedly pressed her palm to his forehead, then both hands to his unshaven cheeks. “You’ve got a fever.”
“Usually accompanies the flu. Now if you’ll…”
“Do you have medicine?”
“No, I…”
“Have you eaten? Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”
“I haven’t…”
“How long have you had it? Have you seen a doctor?”
Killian rested his pounding head against the door. “Must you use your interrogation techniques on me? I haven’t committed a crime, you know.”
“I’m trying to help,” she said, clearly offended.
“I could use less help and more sleep,” he grumbled.
“Yes, good,” she said, pushing past him into his apartment. “Go back to bed and I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want water, juice or…”
“More questions, Swan? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“All you have to drink is water, Dr. Pepper Zero and beer?” she asked, peering into his refrigerator. Closing it, she straightened up and began opening cupboards. “Do you have tea bags? British people like to drink tea, don’t they?”
He knew it would hurt his head to roll his eyes, so he simply threw up his hands and trudged off to his bedroom. Behind him, he could hear Emma celebrating the fact that she’d located the tea bags.
He had just gotten back to sleep, when he was shaken awake. “What now?” he growled, flopping onto his back.
“I made some tea and found Advil in your medicine cabinet. You need to drink something and get these pills in you.”
He raised his head and blinked up at her blearily. “You went through my medicine cabinet?”
“Yeah. Did you know condoms have an expiration date? The ones you have in there expired almost two years ago. Better not use them, because they’re likely to break.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, letting his head drop back down on his pillow. “Please just let me die.”
“You aren’t gonna die from the flu, Jones.”
“I meant from embarrassment,” he muttered under his breath.
“Sit up,” she commanded, sliding her arm under his pillow and pushing until he did as he was told.
First, she handed him a bottle of water. After glaring at her for several seconds, he finally took it, then swiped the two pills she held in her other palm. He popped them into his mouth and downed them with the water.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Deliriously,” she quipped. “Now drink your tea.”
He accepted the mug she offered him and held it to his lips. Cautiously taking a sip, he grimaced and spit it back into the cup. “Did you heat the water at all? It’s barely warm! And how bloody much sugar did you put in it?”
“Well, I didn’t want you to burn your mouth,” she explained haughtily. “And I put in the same amount of sugar as I put in my coffee. Four spoonfuls.”
“Four?” he questioned. “Are you trying to kill me, or just give me diabetes?”
“You’re not a very good patient, Jones. You could at least be grateful that I’m helping you.”
“If you recall, I didn’t ask for your help.”
She ignored him, fluffing his pillow and pushing at his chest to get him to lay back down. “I found a can of chicken noodle soup in your cupboard. I’m going to heat it up.”
“Don’t add any sugar to it,” he groused, as she walked out of the bedroom, taking the tepid cup of tea with her.
“I heard that,” she threw over her shoulder.
“Of course she heard that, but didn’t hear when I told her to leave me alone,” he mumbled into his pillow. He tossed and turned, knowing that if he went to sleep, the maddening woman would just wake him up again.
Sure enough, she was back at his bedside within ten minutes, carefully carrying a plate containing a steaming bowl of soup and a small stack of saltine crackers. He sat up before she could order him to, and took the plate from her.
“You didn’t add anything to this, did you?” he asked.
“Nope, I just heated it up,” she assured him.
He dipped the spoon into the soup, blew on it and put it in his mouth, then promptly choked and sputtered. “Bloody hell, Swan! Didn’t you add any water to this?”
“Why would I add water?” she asked, a confused frown forming on her face.
“Because Campbell’s soup is condensed. It’s too salty this way. Adding extra water dilutes it enough that it tastes like soup is supposed to taste, rather than tasting like…like the ocean. Haven’t you ever made soup from a can before?”
“Sure,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest petulantly. “I make Progresso soup all the time, but I never add water to it.”
“Progresso soup isn’t condensed. This is.” He took the stack of crackers, then thrust the plate back towards her. “I’ll just eat these, thanks very much. Now that you’ve tended to me, you can leave me in peace.”
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” she asked.
Was that concern he saw on her face? Surely not. Emma Swan would never be concerned about him. It would be more realistic if she were to try to poison him. Perhaps he should have been more careful eating and drinking what she gave him.
Shaking his head slightly to try to clear those thoughts, he said gruffly, “Yes, I’m sure. It’s not like you really helped anyway.”
This time, he thought he saw a flash of hurt cross her face, before she turned and left the room. Soon he heard the front door close.
He couldn’t have really seen Emma Swan look concerned and hurt, could he? Great. Now he was going to have to add hallucinations to his list of symptoms.
He ate the crackers, then lay down and turned onto his side, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders. He was achy and feverish, but it was the guilt over how he treated his apparently well-meaning neighbor that kept him from falling asleep.
*********
Three days later, after his fever had been broken for twenty-four hours, Killian went back to work. Upon returning home at the end of the day and getting his keys out to unlock his apartment, the door across the hall opened and Emma stepped out.
“Oh, hey Jones. Looks like you recovered, no thanks to me.”
Killian rubbed his finger behind his ear. “I owe you an apology, Swan. I was rude and should have never said what I did.”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal. I guess I’ll never be a Florence Nightingale.” Turning on her heel, she muttered, “See ya around.”
“Swan…Emma, wait,” he called out, hurrying after her.
She turned around. “What?” she huffed.
“I, uh, I truly am sorry. It was very kind of you to try to help me, but…”
“But what?”
“But why did you do that? I mean, given the fact you hate me…”
“I don’t hate you,” she interrupted.
“Really? You could have fooled me.”
Emma stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looked down at the floor for several long moments. When she finally looked up, he was shocked to see the vulnerability on her face.
“Look… I’m not good with…people,” she said softly. “And I’m also not good at admitting when I’m wrong.”
She paused and he waited patiently, wondering where she was going with this.
“None of the people I know would be concerned enough to check on me if I called in sick to work. You’ve lived here long enough for me to realize that…that you don’t seem to have anyone like that, either. I never see anyone coming or going on a regular basis - besides the pizza delivery guy, but I don’t think he counts.”
Killian chuckled dryly. “You’re very observant, Swan.” He paused for a moment, debating whether he should open up to her as she was to him. “And you’re also correct,” he added finally. “I moved here from England when I was transferred for my job, and I don’t have any close friends yet.”
She nodded. “I figured it was something like that. The day you moved in, I was…well, to put it bluntly, I was a bitch. And, as I said, I’m not good at apologizing, so I just let things go on being…uncomfortable. When I saw that you were sick the other day, I thought it was my chance to make things better between us, but I screwed that up, too. I just…I guess I wanted to let you know that you didn’t have to be alone while you were suffering - that there was someone who cared. I…I’m sorry I made things worse.”
“You didn’t make things worse,” he assured her. “I appreciate the effort. Actually, if you think about it, it was really quite comical.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“And they do say laughter is the best medicine, so your failed attempts at helping are probably what cured me so quickly.”
Seeing the grin on his face, the corners of her own mouth turned up a bit. “You’re an idiot, Jones.”
He took a step closer. “How about if we start over, Emma? It would be nice to have a friend living across the hall.”
She eyed him, chewing her lip in contemplation. Then she held her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
He reached forward to give her hand a firm shake. “Killian Jones. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan.”
She smiled and he was amazed at how it transformed her already lovely face. They stood awkwardly for several moments, until Killian said, “Well, I should let you go. Were you on your way to work?”
“Oh, uh, no. I was just going to get something to eat.”
He rubbed his hand along his jaw, dropping his eyes as he asked, “Would you, um…would you like some company?” Looking back up, he saw her eyes widen and hurried to add, “Just as a friend. As you well know, I don’t have much to eat in my apartment.”
She snorted out a laugh. “You still have more than I do at my place.” Turning away from him once again, she said, “If you’re sure, you’re welcome to join me. I was just gonna go to the diner around the corner. Tonight’s special is grilled cheese and onion rings.”
“Ah, greasy diner food,” he said, beginning to follow her. “You do know if you keep eating that stuff, your arteries are going to be filled with sludge.”
She chose to ignore him as she started down the stairs. “They have the best hot chocolate, too.”
“How much sugar do you add to it?” he grinned.
She glared at him over her shoulder. “No sugar, just cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon in hot chocolate? Sounds…interesting.”
She stopped on the landing and turned to look at him. “If you’re gonna make fun of my preferences for food and drink, you’re uninvited.”
Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “I meant no offense, Swan. Perhaps I’ll even give your…unique concoction a try.”
That meal led to another, and many more. Soon they added regular coffee dates. Gradually, at Killian’s urging, Emma tried and eventually acquired a taste for black coffee, no sugar. Even more gradually, at Emma’s urging, Killian acquired a taste for greasy diner food.
Six weeks after Emma’s attempt to nurse Killian back to health, they went on their first official date. Killian was very happy to discover that Emma Swan did indeed have both a sweet and funny side. They realized they had many things in common, as they talked during their dinner at one of Boston’s most renowned restaurants, then walked along the waterfront.
At the conclusion of the date, they shared a kiss outside her apartment door, which opened both of their eyes to the fact that there was a significant spark of attraction between them. As they continued to date, the spark ignited into a blazing flame. (They made sure to replace the expired condoms in Killian’s medicine cabinet, once it was obvious they were going to put them to use.)
They became each other’s ‘person’ - someone to laugh with, cry with, share everything with, and nurse back to health when the need arose. By the following winter, when the flu made its way through Killian’s office once again, he had his own live-in nurse, whose skills were much improved from the previous year.
By that time, they still had a love/hate relationship…but now, it was minus the hate.
*********
A couple of fun notes:
-Colin was drinking a Dr. Pepper Zero during the Meet & Greet I went to at GalaxyCon in Columbus last year.
-At another con several years ago, Jen admitted she never drank black coffee until Colin got her hooked on it. (No pun intended!)
*********
Thank you for reading.
Tagging:
@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda
@pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426
@julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones
@zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines
@hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie @beckettj
#a love/hate relationship#cs one shot#CS modern AU#jrob64#art by jrob64#hurt/comfort#enemies to lovers#neighbors to lovers#csff#captain swan fanfic
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sometimes i really wish y’all could see mine and @charlie-theangelwrites messages while we flesh out this svech fic more and more
oops my hand slipped—
#just saying they’re really not for the faint of heart#this could have been a one shot but the way we came up with a whole series based on one thing i told her djsjskdkd#who knows when it’ll see the light of day but it’s pretty fucking great and all i’ve been thinking about since may honestly!!!!!#🍟
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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.
Men did love a little attention, after all.
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.
Until, Theo spoke up.
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.
“Where are we going, Dray?”
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!”
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.”
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.”
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.”
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy/reader#draco malfoy/you#harry potter#slytherin boys#tom felton#draco malfoy x y/n
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bad idea, right? | f. odair
masterlist
summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?
pairing: finnick odair x reader
warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,
notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)
word count: 4.6k
Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.
Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.
You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.
Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.
“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”
To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.
“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.
The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.
She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”
“Did you get a name?!”
After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.
With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”
Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.
“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.
Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.
No. It couldn’t be—
“Finnick.”
********
Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.
Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.
A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.
Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.
Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”
“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”
You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.
“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”
“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”
“Thanks, mum!”
You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.
Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.
District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.
Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.
Oh, fuck me.
He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.
“Finnick,” you greeted.
“Y/N.”
He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.
Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.
Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.
“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”
You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.
“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.
“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”
“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”
Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”
He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”
“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”
Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.
You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?
Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.
But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.
Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.
So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.
In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”
He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”
And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”
Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”
You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”
Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.
“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”
Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.
This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”
Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.
“I want you,” he whispered.
You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”
He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.
Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.
A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.
Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.
You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”
His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.
“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.
You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.
“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”
Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”
Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.
“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.
He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.
You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.
“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”
Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.
Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”
The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.
“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”
“That’s right.”
Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.
Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.
And, well, you did.
“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.
“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”
With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.
With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.
The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.
Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.
“Turn around,” he said, and you did.
You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.
Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.
The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.
You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.
Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.
Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.
“Oh god,” you gasped.
The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.
It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.
You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.
Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.
“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.
His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.
“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”
In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.
He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.
“Harder!” you cried.
Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.
His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.
“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”
You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.
He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—
“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”
A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.
You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.
Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.
*********
“Don’t leave again.”
Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.
“Finnick…” you sighed.
“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”
The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.
“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.
After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.
Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.
You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.”
tags: @tayrae515
#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair smut#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x you#sam claflin#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen
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They start kissing on stage as a joke.
The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."
Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."
"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.
"I don't know, other bands do it!"
Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.
Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.
They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.
Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.
The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.
He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.
But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.
They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.
The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.
He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.
They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.
They don't talk about it.
Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.
A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.
Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.
"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.
He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"
His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.
"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"
"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"
Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."
Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.
"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."
And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--
"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.
Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."
He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."
Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"
"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.
"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."
Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."
Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.
It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.
Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."
Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"
"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.
"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."
Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#bandmates steve and eddie#musician au#fluff#angst#eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington#oblivious steve harrington#eventual mutual pining#kissing on stage#it's a joke. until it isn't#this is because boygenius won a bunch of grammys#all award shows are fake and the grammys are the most fake of all but still#if the tour bus is rockin' etc etc etc#grey goose got your girl feeling loose
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Who We Are
pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.
word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.
author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!
“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.
You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.
“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.
Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.
“Well good, keeps you busy.”
You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.
Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.
You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.
Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.
“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”
His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.
“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily.
You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.
When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.
“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm.
“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.
“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”
Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”
Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”
Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds.
So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.
You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.
You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.
Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.
“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.
You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.
-
You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one.
When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.
But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.
“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”
He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”
You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.
“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.
“Just weak.”
Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.
When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.
“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”
She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”
“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.
Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.
She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.
“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.
“Always is, kiddo.”
-
The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some.
It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.
But for now, you should get some rest.
Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.
You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have.
You need to remind the council of all your father does.
You need him to get better.
You need him.
-
“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.
You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”
Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.
“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”
“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”
“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”
Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.
“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”
Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family.
“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”
You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?”
You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either.
“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”
“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms.
“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”
“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.
Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”
Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.
You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.
He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”
Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”
He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.
It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.
“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.
He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”
You didn’t even think that far.
“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”
You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.
“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.
“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”
“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”
-
Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.
As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.
He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.
You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.
Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.
“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”
“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”
You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.
“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”
It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”
His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you.
“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”
“Roger that, kiddo.”
-
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.
He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.
“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”
Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.
Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.
You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.
Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.
“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”
He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.
“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”
-
“How is Ellie doing?”
You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.
He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”
You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.
“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”
Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.
“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”
You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.
“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”
He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”
You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.
Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.
“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”
But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself.
The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.
You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.
“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.
Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”
That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.
He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.
“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.
He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”
You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now.
“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”
You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.
“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”
You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”
-
You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.
“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.
“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse.
He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.
You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.
“Is this yours?”
He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”
You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.
You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.
That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.
“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”
How could you ever say no to an offer like that?
You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”
-
Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.
He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.
When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.
“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”
He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”
You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.
“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”
You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.
“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”
He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you.
You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”
He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.
“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”
You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.
He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.
“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”
You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”
-
You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours.
“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.
“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”
You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”
You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.
You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.
Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.
Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.
After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember.
He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.
You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.
He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.
It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.
-
The second day starts off a bit rough.
When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.
You are panting like you just ran a mile.
“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”
“You were sleeping!”
“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked.
You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”
He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”
After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.
You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.
When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.
-
When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.
“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say.
You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you.
He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.
“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.
“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”
“I cannot wait.”
The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.
“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”
He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.
-
He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day.
He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.
He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?
He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.
“You okay, Joel?”
You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.
“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”
You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.
You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.
You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.
Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.
“Can I help you?”
You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”
He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”
“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”
You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.
Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.
“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”
-
The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.
Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.
“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”
“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.
“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”
You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”
“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”
You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”
He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.
He wanted to keep looking.
“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.
You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.
“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”
Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.
“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”
You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”
-
You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.
You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.
“When was the last time you were here?”
He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.
“Over a year ago.”
You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”
You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.
“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?
It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.
You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”
“Who?”
“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.
“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.
You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.
You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.
You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.
Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.
“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.
You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”
“What do ya’ mean?”
You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.
“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”
He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”
The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him.
“Right, of course.”
-
When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.
You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.
To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.
You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.
“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”
You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.
“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.
You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.
levofloxacin
amoxicillin
“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”
He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”
You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.
You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”
“Yeah, right behind you.”
Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.
You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.
Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.
It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials.
You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room.
“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”
You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it.
“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”
Then you hear it.
Click. Click. Click.
Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.
Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.
You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.
She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.
You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.
You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.
“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.
You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing.
You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.
“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”
You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.
When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body.
“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”
You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.
He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.
“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.
“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully.
“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”
He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”
“Why not?”
Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.
Right?
“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”
You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”
-
It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.
When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind.
You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.
You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.
When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.
“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.
“You all clean?”
You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”
He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”
“Use mine.”
Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”
“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”
He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”
You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.
“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”
He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”
Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.
He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”
-
Joel can not do this.
You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?
You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.
Why were you doing this to yourself?
Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”
He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.
“We can’t.”
You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”
You two know better. You know better. You know better.
You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better.
It’s almost like you two silently made the decision.
“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.
Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”
His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.
He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.
“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.
“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”
He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”
It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation.
But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.
This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.
He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”
You can’t help but giggle a bit.
“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”
It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.
“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”
He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.
As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.
“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.
“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”
He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.
“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”
You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.
You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth.
When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big.
“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.
Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.
“Joel, what are you doing?”
You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”
Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.
You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.
Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.
When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.
“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.
When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.
“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.
“Joel, please.”
He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”
You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.
“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears.
“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”
When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.
“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.
You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.
“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”
Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.
“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”
The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.
As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.
The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm.
“Yes, Joel!”
His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.
The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.
“Shit.”
You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.
“I came inside you.”
You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”
He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.
Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.
You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.
Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.
“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.
“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”
You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.
-
When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you.
You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.
Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.
“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”
All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”
“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”
You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.
“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”
He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.
“Yeah, we are all set.”
Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.
He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend.
“We have to get home,” Is all he says.
And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.
-
You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.
Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky.
The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.
You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.
“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”
He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.
“What do you mean?”
You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.
“Tell them what?”
He has to be messing, right? You think.
But no, he’s deadly serious.
“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together.
“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”
If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”
“No, it’s not like that-”
“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”
-
When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.
You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already.
The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.
A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive.
When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.
“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”
You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.
“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”
You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.
“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.
You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.
Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.
As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.
-
Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.
“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”
“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”
“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”
“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”
“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”
He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.
“You won’t what, Joel?”
He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.
“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”
Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about.
“What?”
“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.
“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”
Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”
“Joel-”
“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”
-
Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal.
You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home.
For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.
You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.
“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”
She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”
Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”
Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.
“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it.
Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.
You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially.
“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”
“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”
Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.
You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.
“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.
It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom.
He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all.
“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.
The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray.
“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”
You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.
“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”
“Baby-”
“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”
Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.
“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”
He can’t let you make this mistake.
But you’re not easing up.
“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.
“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”
You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.
Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.
You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.
“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.
“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”
Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.
You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.
“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.
When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”
The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.
“Yeah?”
You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.
“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”
Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question.
“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”
“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit.
The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.
Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.
“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages.
“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”
“Dad-“
“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”
You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.
“Sorry?”
Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought.
Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”
“Dad, he’s not dum-“
“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”
You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.
You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?
Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him.
He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.
“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“
“I’m a dead man.”
Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.
“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”
You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”
Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.
You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.
And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.
“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.
You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.
“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.
THE END
or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:
No One Fucks With My Baby
#joel miller fic#joel miller#joel x reader#joel miller x fem reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel last of us smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us#post outbreak joel#dbf joel#dbf joel miller#gracieheartspedro#fic: who we are
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