#// i needed to make a crack post before thinking of doing replies

[gothbitchshit]

Match My Freak

Pairing: Eddie x plus sized girlfriend reader

Rating: Explicit — minors do not interact

Genre: fluff, kinda crack?, explicit smut, post s4 Eddie lives!AU

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: Eddie's girlfriend goes looking him Eddie and finds herself in a compromising position, and sharing some feelings she wasn't expecting to that changes the nature of their relationship forever.

Warnings: established relationship, Eddie likes his girls thick idc I make the rules, confessions of sorts, near anxiety/panic attack, lowkey roleplay that turns into not-roleplay lol, overuse of pet names, finger sucking, mentioned fingering (does not occur), choking, impact play/pussy slapping, master kink, fingering, unprotected sex, safeword discussion, d/s implications, dirty talk (these two are filthy), dumbification if you squint, Eddie being silly, these two are horny and in love – if I missed anything please let me know!

Requested? nope, but @slashersteve and @witchoftheewilds encouraged me to write this so they get credit

Authors note: so... I disappeared for like 2 years. Sorry about that lol this is written in 3rd person with the reader having she/her pronouns.

⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆

She knew exactly where she’d find him — sitting on his throne in the low-lit room, feet up on the table with his nose buried in a Dungeons and Dragons manual instead of home room. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t even flinch when she walked in; most of the Hellfire Club came and went as they pleased, and she doubted Eddie even realized the morning bell had rung. 

She’d been disappointed not to find him in the parking lot that morning, even more disappointed when she hadn’t found him waiting at her locker. But when she didn’t see him loitering outside Mrs. Brandon’s class until the bell rang, she knew exactly where he’d be. 

It was Friday, which meant he was going over his campaign before the Hellfire meeting planned for that night. He looked so excited, almost manic as he poured over his notes. She locked the door and pulled the shade down before lazily making her way over to him.

“Oh, gracious dungeon master,” she drawled seductively, Eddie’s eyes shooting up to look at her over his notes before a smirk settled on his face. She knew he’d already caught onto her game, and was more than willing to play along. “Could you spare a moment?”

“Always. What can I do for a princess, clearly lost in my domain, this early in the morning?” He asked, reaching out to take her hand, but she pulled away at the last minute, skirting around his chair. His fingers brushed the edge of the flannel she had tied around her waist but he couldn’t quite catch her.

“Well, as you can tell, I’m lost, and I’m in desperate need of answers,” she sighed, trailing a manicured finger down the side of his neck over the back of his chair.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help a lost maiden,” he replied, shivering as her nail hit the fading hickey at the junction of his neck and collarbone.

“So this sadistic, twisted campaign you’ve been planning,” she began, “What can you tell this lonely, weary traveler about it?”

“Well, princess, I can’t tell you too much. Can’t ruin the surprise,” he sighed, sitting up in his chair and making room for her in front of him, “But I can tell you that I don’t think any will survive the vicious, blood thirsty hoard that is commanded by Tharizdun, God of Eternal Darkness.”

She hummed in contemplation, finally moving to stand in front of him, remaining just out of his reach, “How can he possibly be defeated?” She asked, pushing herself onto the table, running a foot up the inside of his leg as she did.

“My sweet, kind princess,” he smiled, a slender, ring clad hand reaching out to grab her ankle, pulling it up to his mouth to place a chaste kiss on the skin. She shivered as he nearly forced her to lay back on the table, catching herself on her elbows, “I couldn’t possibly tell you that. I know the freshmen probably sent you in here to get a leg up on my campaign, but it won’t come that easily.”

She frowned animatedly, “You think I’m trying to trick you?” She asked softly, making him groan as his hand tightened around her ankle.

“I know you are, princess,” he laughed incredulously, “Why else would you be here, spread out on my table in front of my throne?”

“Can’t I just be curious?” She pouted, pulling her ankle away from him as she sat up.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he cooed, cupping her face in his hand, “If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t tell the freshmen about it and you have to come to Hellfire tonight.”

“Deal,” she smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand.

Eddie laughed, shaking his head before settling back into his throne, “Well, Tharizdun, the God of Eternal Darkness, is locked away, imprisoned for his crimes. But he is able to influence his cult members to act on his behalf. They are obsessed with finding and freeing him from his eternal prison so darkness can reign supreme yet again. To defeat him, you’d need someone who has magical influence to somehow stop his mid control and—“

“What if someone were to… I don’t know… stumble upon Thorzidune—“

“—Tharizdun.”

“Yes, sorry. Tharizdun. If someone were to find him and distract him…” she trailed off before locking eyes with Eddie and asking, “Could he be seduced?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, a breathless laugh forced itself from his lungs as he stared at her, her lips curling into a smirk as she watched the wheels turn in his head. “Princess, I-I don’t think you realize what you’re—“ he stuttered.

“I mean, he’s not a zombie or anything, so he’s not immune to being charmed or whatever. So why couldn’t he be seduced?” She asked with a shrug. 

“Baby, your charisma stats would have to be insane to even—“ he began but she cut him off with a scoff.

“Excuse you, I’m a level 13 Bard and my charisma stats are off the charts,” she deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest.

“On whose authority? You’ve never played with me and you can’t just say things like that, it cheapens—“ he complained, but she cut him off again.

“Will the Wise,” she said firmly, making him freeze, “You can ask him. We’ve played extensively. Now, what would I need to roll to properly seduce the terrible, terrifying, Tharizdun?”

She could see the realization set in, his eyes going dark as he assessed her. The predatory gleam in his eyes sent a wave of arousal pooling in her core, “Well, who am I to question Will the Wise? So, you need a 15 or higher to seduce the mighty Tharizdun, princess,” he smiled, standing up to his full height to tower over her. “Here, I’ll even let you use my lucky dice,” he said, bending over to whisper directly into her ear before pressing the dice into her hand.

She felt like there was an electric current under her skin, her hands almost shaking in anticipation. She sucked in a breath and steeled her resolve, pushing Eddie backwards, back into his throne. “Thank you for the luck, oh gracious one,” she curtsied.

“Anytime, princess,” he smirked, leaning back in his seat.

“Oh,” she smiled innocently, “Will you hold this for me? It’s a little warm in here,” she asked, watching his eyes trail over her as she untied the dark flannel from around her waist, revealing the ripped black shorts. She could have sworn she saw Eddie drool a little bit as he stared at her exposed legs.

She turned on her toes, bending over the table dramatically, “Fuck, princess,” he groaned, his hands ghosting up the backs of her plush thighs. “You don’t even need to roll. Tharizdun is at your mercy at the mere sight of you.”

She turned to look at him over his shoulder, suppressing a laugh as she saw his eyes glued to the bottom of her ass. “No, we need to do this the right way, there are rules for a reason. You should know that,” she chastised, before turning back to the table. “Oh, and I’d rather be at Tharizdun’s mercy,” she teased, rolling the dice.

The moment of silence in anticipation seemed to stretch for hours, her breath caught in her throat as the dice spun before it stopped, landing on 20. “Congratulations princess,” Eddie breathed in her ear, “You got your wish.” Before she could respond, his hands were under the hem of her shorts, kneading into the flesh of her ass.

“Eddie!” She squealed, feeling the cold metal of his rings cut into her warm skin.

“Nope, that’s not my name right now, sweetheart,” he breathed into her ear, “Call me by my name, and I’ll grant you mercy.”

“‘Tharizdun, God of Eternal Darkness’ is a mouthful, and you know I’m a screamer,” She whispered back, “But because I’m at your mercy, what if I just call you master?”

She couldn’t help but feel satisfied at the sharp intake of breath she heard in her ear, followed by a low warning sound that reverberated in his chest. But the satisfaction was ripped away from her with a hand around her throat, pulling her back into his chest.

“If you call me that again, princess, you’re never getting rid of me, you got that? You say that shit again and you are mine, understood?”

Her heart fluttered and her knees went weak; she wanted nothing more than to be his forever. The simple thought of it made her break into goosebumps and her brain to go a little fuzzy. She wanted him to own her, to want her as much as she wanted him. “Please, master, I want it. I wanna be yours, only yours,” she pleaded softly, her eyes filling with tears at the unspoken promise in his proposition. 

Eddie sighed, a pleased hum vibrating through her back from his chest. His hand tightened as he scoffed, pressing his hard bulge into the cleft of her ass, making her whine. “My dumb little pet,” he cooed mockingly, “You come into my lair, batting your pretty little eyes at me, trying to seduce me for someone else’s benefit? And now you offer yourself to me, to keep?”

“Yes, fuck, I want you to keep me. I wanna be yours forever,” she whispered, her whole body trembling in his hold. “I love you, Eddie,” she hiccuped. 

His grip on her faltered, his fingers loosening around her neck, making her freeze. It had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks, always choking the words back as the insecurities echoed in her mind, all the same haunting tone that’d almost claimed her life in the upside down mere months before. And now she’d fucked it up — she should have known Eddie would never feel the same way about her as she did him. His words were just part of the game they were playing, he didn’t mean them like she did.

“Princess, I need you to breathe,” Eddie commanded gently, trapping her chin between his fingers and forcing her to look at him. His eyes were wide and wild, still half feral but also concerned, and all it did was make her cry harder. 

“It-it’s okay you don’t love me, I-I won’t be upset just p-please don’t-don’t leave,” she stuttered out between gasps, trying to stave off the panic attack that was building.

“Fuck, no, no, no, no, no, no sweetheart,” he cooed softly, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve been in love with you since the moment you slayed a hoard of demobats to save my stupid ass. Shit, I’ve probably been in love with you for way longer. Definitely before we started dating – like when you told me you liked my tattoo and my guitar and convinced me to play you part of the song I was writing, and then actually liked it? Y’know, I haven’t thought of a single other girl since then,” he rambled, the goofy grin she loved so much not leaving his face for a second. “I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t, but holy fuck, I have been in love with you for so long princess and hearing you say it felt like a-a hallucination or something.”

“You love me too?” She mumbled through sniffles.

“You are the love of my life. I love you so much I don’t even have the words for it, which is saying a lot because I am known for my way with words.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” she smiled, pressing up onto her toes to kiss him, melting into his embrace.

His hands hooked under her legs, lifting her up so she could wrap herself around him as he carefully set her on the table. “I wasn’t joking baby,” he said, pulling away to look into her eyes seriously. “When I said you were mine, that I wanted to keep you. I want you forever because I am in love with you.”

The white hot burn of his words roared in her ears as he pressed his lips to hers again, slower this time, sucking her lip in between his teeth before giving her a sharp nip.

“Now that you’ve given yourself to me, and I to you, can we continue where we left off? Because we only have 30 minutes before next period, and while I am fully willing to skip O’Donnel’s class to claim my pretty little pet, you told me you’d kill me yourself if I don’t graduate with you.”

“And I stand by that statement,” she smiled, still feeling dazed, “But I also need you to fuck me so hard I forget how boring Bunsen’s chem class is for the entire hour. Can you do that, oh gracious one? My God of Eternal Darkness.”

“Don’t you need that to graduate?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah, but it’s lab day and Nancy’s my partner,” she shrugged, shivering as she felt the tendrils of his curls ghost across her skin.

“Oh, so you just fuck around while everyone else struggles?” He grinned, nipping at her neck to make her gasp. “Why am I not surprised Wheeler would let you skate by”

“Because she’s my friend,” she breathed absently, too distracted feeling Eddie’s warm hands travel the expanse of her legs and his lips working his way across her chest.

“Mmhmm, and you’re gonna sit in that class with her, all fucked out after I split you open and make you cry bouncing on my cock?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” she whispered, her eyes rolling back as he bit down on her earlobe.

“Please what, princess?”

“Please, master,” she sighed.

“Of course, my pet,” he smirked, “I’ve told you before, flattery works on me, sweetheart.” She didn’t notice he had been causally undoing the buttons that held her shorts up until he was yanking the fabric down her ass and throwing them to the side.

“Eddie, baby, please. Don’t tease me. I need you now,” she pleaded, eyes wide and glassy as she stared at him, “I’ll do anything when we get home, anything, as long as you fuck me now, and you fuck me hard.”

“Sweet princess, my little pet, have you forgotten your manners already? I’m your master right now baby, and you’re at my mercy. That was the deal,” he chuckled, “But since you asked so nicely…” He took two steps back from her, settling himself into his throne with a dark glint in his eyes. He started in her eyes as he unbuckled his belt, the handcuffs clinking as he unbuttoned his pants. “I need my girl to come ride me on my throne, seeing as you, from this moment forward, are my queen.”

She bit her lip so hard she could feel it split, the sharp metallic filling her mouth, “Yes master,” she nodded, pushing herself off the table. Eddie’s wicked grin grew even more as she took two careful steps toward him, coming to stand between his spread legs.

“I see my princess got all dressed up just for me,” he smirked, his fingers ghosting over her stomach, venturing under the hem of the Dio shirt he’d given her the night he asked her to be his girlfriend. “Do you like wearing the clothes I get you, baby? Letting everyone know that you’re mine?”

She nodded, a shy smile on her face, “It lets everyone know that you’re mine too,” she whispered, climbing into his lap. She trailed her nails up his neck softly, relishing in the hiss that came out of his mouth, “Can’t let anyone try to take you from me.”

“Sweetheart, I assure you. No one other than you wants me,” he laughed, but her hand in his hair cut him off with a groan.

“It’s because they don’t know you. If they did, every girl in Hawkins would be fighting for your attention,” she frowned, littering kisses across his face. “Well, everyone except Nancy and Robin.”

He groaned in displeasure, “Do you want to get fucked or do you wanna talk about them? It’s one or the other baby.”

“I need you to fuck me,” she smiled innocently, grinding down on him with an experimental roll of her hips. The satisfied moan caught in her throat, the friction being nearly too much to handle after the teasing she’d received.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he nearly purred, his gorgeous, massive hands holding onto her hips. The cool metal of his rings made her eyes roll back as they settled on her heated flesh. She felt herself slipping back into the hazy headspace she’d been in earlier. 

She had never considered herself very submissive —  a switch at best — but Eddie brought something out of her that she’d never felt before. And it terrified her. Being with Eddie was so different than the other guys she’d fucked. She knew Eddie would hand her the reins of control as soon as she asked, if she ever asked; he would indulge her every whim without a single hesitation. And because of that, she let herself float into it without fighting it for the first time. 

She semi consciously realized Eddie could tell exactly when she let herself go, his grin curling into one that was more smug, and deeply self satisfied. “That’s it, there’s my good girl,” he sighed, “Been waiting for you to let me behind those walls you built, sweetheart. Knew you’d be the perfect little pet for me,” he cooed, pushing his thumb past her lips.

She ground down on his erection, spit leaking from the corner of her mouth lewdly as he pushed down on her tongue with the pad of his finger, keeping her head still while the other directed her hips.

“Gonna fuck you now, s’that okay princess?” He slurred, his head tipping back as he bucked his hips into hers unconsciously. She nodded, mewls of approval falling from her open mouth making him laugh. “Alright, alright, gimme one second sweetheart.”

Without moving his thumb from her mouth, he managed to shimmy his pants and boxers down to free his cock — hard and leaking pearly beads of pre cum that made her drool and her pussy clench in excitement. “Please, my love, please,” she slurred, her hands trembling where they were bunched in his shirt.

“Anything for you,” he smiled. He hooked one long finger under the lace, pulling it to the side to expose her cunt, strings of arousal clinging to the thin fabric lewdly. A pleased hum left him as he stared at her, removing his thumb from between her lips with a pop before aligning his cock with her entrance, the blunt head pressed against her firmly. “Ready baby?”

She nodded absently, too fixated on the golden expanse of his forearms to properly retain any of the words he was saying. The veins and tendons under the skin, and the patches of dark black ink were something that captivated her attention even when he wasn’t about to fuck her senseless. But when he was — it was downright sinful. Especially when they gave way to his hands, God’s most beautiful creation. Wide, rough palms that bled into long, thick fingers, which just so happened to be holding something else long and thick, something she loved nearly as much as his hands: his cock. 

“Princess, I need you to look at me,” he said sharply. Her eyes flew to his, confusion and concern swirling in her brain, and evidently her eyes, because his eyes softened, pulling her closer for a moment to press a kiss to the space between her eyebrows, “You weren’t listening to me like a good girl, and I need you to pay attention to what I’m about to say,” he smiled, his tone soft. “If you need me to stop, you say red, got it? No matter what, if you need a break or something hurts or you don’t like what’s happening, or even if you just start to feel uncomfortable, you say red and we’re done. Got it?”

“Yes master,” she smiled, warmth filling her chest as he spoke.

He snarled in response, both of his hands finding her hips as he seated her on his cock, bottoming out nearly instantly. She choked on her groan, having to grab the elaborate headpiece of the throne to steady herself. She could have sworn she felt him in the back of her throat he was hitting so deep, and his girth was nothing to laugh at — it usually took three fingers to prepare her to take him — but the pain ebbing into pleasure was more intoxicating than any drug she’d ever done.

Without thinking, she pulled herself almost all the way off him before dropping back into his lap forcefully, ripping deep, low moans out of the both of them. “Do it again,” he ordered, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as she began riding him desperately. “That’s it, my good girl, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he praised, his hips meeting her thrusts evenly.

“Eddie,” she moaned shamelessly. The knowledge they were in school, and it wasn’t even 9am passed through her brain briefly, but as soon as it came it had gone, replaced only by the thought of Eddie’s cock kissing her cervix as he changed angles slightly.

“My princess, my sweet girl. You’re mine, you got that? You’ve always been mine, but fuck, sweetheart, I’m never gonna let you go now, do you hear me? Now that I know you love me as much as I love you.”

She couldn’t find words to convey to him how much she loved him, but her head was filled with flashes of images — of their future together. Graduating together, moving into their own place, eventually getting married, and achieving their dreams together; she could see it all, in perfect color with every thrust of his hips it became more clear. She wanted to chalk it up to being cockdrunk, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d found her other half.

In the beautiful boy that had a smile that lit up the darkest corners of her mind, the same one who she’d nearly lost multiple times in the twisted hellscape that still haunted her memories. Her life had restarted the second Dustin re-introduced them, standing in the parking lot less than 100 feet away. He had protected her, saved her — loved her — in spite of it all. 

She didn’t know how she hadn’t screamed her love for him every second of the day before then, because it flowed out of her pores like a river now. She wasn’t sure she could keep it in if she tried. 

She loved his messy curls, even now as they stuck to his forehead and became frizzier with sweat. She loved his big brown eyes and the way she could read every emotion in them at a moment's glance, but especially when they sparkled with mischief like they did at that very moment. She loved his insane tangents about obscure nerd lore, his scatterbrained messiness, his compulsive need to learn new guitar riffs even if it meant staying up until 4am before they had to go to school. 

She hadn’t noticed she’d started crying until she felt his tongue on her cheek, licking away the spilled tear before his eyes rolled back in his head. “My precious little pet, cum for me,” he cooed, “Obey your master.”

She hadn’t even noticed she was close, but as soon as his words permeated her brain she was shaking as the waves of her orgasm wracked through her body, a high pitched squeal wrenching out of her vocal cords, muffled only by Eddie’s hand slapping over her mouth quickly. 

“Fuck baby, I know I told you to scream for me, but we really don’t wanna get caught,” he smirked, his thrusts shallowing as he worked her through her orgasm.

“I love you, I love you so much, I don’t even understand how much I do,” she babbled softly, her brain scrambling to put words together in a coherent fashion. “I love when you hold my hand and how you talk to me and when you play guitar. I love your scars and your tattoos and your fingers and your cock and your eyes. Fuck, Eddie,” she sobbed incoherently, “Please!”

She felt weightless for a second as he stood, not moving from inside her as he slammed her back down onto the table. He hovered over her for a moment, staring into her eyes as he caressed her face softly, “God you’re fucking everything,” he groaned before snapping his hips into hers brutally.

The sheer force of him forced the sounds out of her — desperate, whiny, needy little moans that would have made her embarrassed on any other day — the ability to speak no longer in her grasp.

“You would have told me a year ago that my dream girl would be crying because of my cock and telling me she loved me? I would have thought I was dreaming,” he muttered, his teeth grit in determination as he pounded into her. “Too fuckin’ good for me. My Luthien. I’ll spend an eternity trying to prove myself worthy of you, sweetheart, in this life, the next, and every one after that.”

She felt her second orgasm approaching fast, her vision nearly going black with the force of its impending devastation. Her only tether to reality was Eddie’s hands on her skin, one hand holding hers and the other wrapped around her throat.

“Kiss me, please,” she croaked, pressing her heel into his back as her free hand grabbed his neck, pulling him closer as her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave.

He groaned, his hips stuttering to a stop as he collapsed onto her, his lips finding hers as if they were drawn together like magnets. She could feel him throbbing inside her, coating the velvety walls of her cunt.

“Fuck, I’ve never cum that hard in my life,” he laughed breathlessly after he detached his lips from hers.

“Me either,” she shivered, the sweat on her skin cooling as they came down from their high together.

He smiled down at her softly, working his hands under her back before lifting her off the table easily, settling back into his throne with her body tucked into his chest. He pulled his jacket over her shoulders, combing his fingers through her hair gently, pressing his lips to her forehead every so often.

She felt the feeling come back to her slowly, Eddie’s warmth seeping into her skin. “You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He mumbled, making her hum happily in response. “I’m sorry pretty girl, but we’re running out of time.”

“S’okay babe, I just need to feel my legs again so I don’t collapse in the hall and have to explain to Principal Higgins you shattered my pelvis with your dick in the theater room instead of going to home room,” she sighed airily.

His rumbling laugh shook her body, “I think Higgins would croak then and there if you did that princess.”

“Who would I be to take your graduation plans away from you? Flipping Higgins the bird and all,” she chuckled, kissing his neck softly before sitting back from his embrace. “God that was stupid, I don’t know how I’m gonna stay awake the rest of the day.”

“You think that’s bad? I’m gonna be hard all day thinking about the way you looked, shit and the way you cried for me?” Eddie scoffed teasingly, leaning forward to press his lips to hers again.

She sank into his kiss easily, the tension fading from her body. Before she could get too wrapped up in him she pulled away sharply, “Hey, no, you can’t trick me. We need to get up, and you need to go to class, because I swear to God, Munson, if you fail and need to go to summer school and fuck up our plans… Let’s just say eternity will be a little bit shorter for you.”

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, “Bratty little thing,” he huffed to himself, putting his hands on her hips. He lifted her off him with a groan, quickly covering her exposed cunt with her underwear before giving it a quick tap, making her jump. “Gotta keep that in baby, don’t wanna be making a mess during chemistry class, now do you?”

“I can’t believe I’m in love with you,” she rolled her eyes, lifting herself off his lap with shaky legs.

He hummed smugly before grinning, “But you are,” he mocked her, pulling his jeans and boxers back up around his hips.

“I can take it back,” she shrugged, hiding the smirk on her face as he gasped in mock outrage.

“You said the words, sweetheart, you pledged yourself to me. You knew the consequences,” he smiled, dropping to his knees in front of her. She flushed seeing him stare up at her, big brown eyes full of love and adoration.

“My Beren,” she smiled softly, threading her fingers into his curls, and she wasn’t sure his smile could get any wider.

“I should have known, my pet doesn’t miss a detail, not even when she’s low on blood flow to her brain and fucked out,” he grinned, kissing the skin above the strip of lace. “But that’s right, angel. You’re the Luthien to my Beren.”

He grabbed her leg, shifting her weight to balance on one foot as he lifted the other, slipping her shorts up. His nimble fingers tying the ribbons to sit flush against her thighs. “Thank you, my love.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he beamed at her, standing up to his full height. “Now, we’ve got a couple minutes. How about I help you hobble to class?”

“I would be eternally grateful,” she rolled her eyes, “Seeing as you’re the reason I won’t be able to walk across the stage at graduation next week.”

“Not my fault my dick is so big,” he shrugged with a smirk, making her choke as she glared at him. “Aw, my pet is choking for me and my cock isn’t even in your mouth.”

Whatever response she had died on her tongue as he lifted her off the ground at the blinding smile on his face, his hand held out to her. She couldn’t fight her own smile as she took it, strolling out of the theater room out into the hall as the bell rang. 

He walked her all the way to her chemistry classroom, her backpack slung over his shoulder and her hand in his. He pulled her to a stop just outside the door, crowding her against an empty stretch of lockers.

She felt her cheeks warm as he stared down at her, leaning against the doorframe. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off with a kiss and a breathless, “I love you.”

“I love you too, princess. I’ll meet you here in an hour,” he smiled softly, pressing one last kiss to her head before turning around and sauntering toward Mrs. O’Donnel’s classroom.

She didn’t make it 5 steps before Nancy’s voice rang out behind her. “Why are you walking like that?”

“I have no idea what you’re—“

“Did you really skip first period to fuck Munson?” She deadpanned, making her smirk. “I love you, but you’re disgusting.”

“You have no idea…” she trailed off, taking her seat. Nancy simply rolled her eyes and opened her textbook. After a moment of silence she turned to Nancy with a wry grin. “So do you wanna know what happened?”

Nancy slammed her textbook shut with a snap, a small smile on her face, “Alright, I guess you can tell me everything.”

[p0orbaby]

A little leha blurb of her being sleepy and clingy maybe:)

-

You wake up to something heavy draped across your chest. It’s Leah. She’s sprawled out like a starfish that got lost, like she miscalculated the size of the bed she shares with you. One arm slung over your face, hair in your mouth. You spit it out. The digital clock reads 6:48. Too early. Too much. You try to move, to gently shift her off you, but she makes a noise. The kind of noise that says, “Don’t even think about it.” You pause, thinking, ‘What now?’

You’ve been together long enough to know that Leah’s clinginess is a morning hazard. She’s like a heat-seeking missile of affection before she’s properly awake. It’s almost sweet, if it weren’t for the fact that you can’t breathe because her entire body weight is pressing down on your lungs like a weighted blanket you never asked for.

“Leah,” you say, voice muffled by her shoulder. She doesn’t respond. Or she does, technically, but it’s just a deeper snore that sounds vaguely like a question. You tap her arm. “Leah,” louder this time. A groan. Still no movement. Fantastic.

You wriggle out from under her, trying to make as little noise as possible. You’re 60% successful. She stirs slightly but resettles, face buried in the pillow now, her hand still blindly reaching for you. Like a zombie in a horror film, except this zombie wants a cuddle. You give in. You always give in. You shift closer, letting her arm loop around your waist, her hand resting on your hip like it’s found its home. Your attempts to escape were pointless, as usual. She’s always stronger than she looks.

You stare at the ceiling. It’s white. Boring. Probably needs painting. You’d said that to Leah last week—"We should repaint the ceiling, it’s cracking in the corner"—but she was more concerned with the fact you were looking at the ceiling instead of paying attention to the game she was excitedly rewatching. She tends to rewatch her own matches like it’s a post-mortem, narrating the decisions she made, but you already know how they end. You smile to yourself, remembering her complaining about her own footwork. As if her standards weren’t impossibly high already.

“I can feel you smiling,” she mutters into the pillow.

You jolt. “You’re awake?”

“Barely.” Her eyes are still closed, but now her fingers are idly tracing shapes on your hip. A lazy smile stretches across her face. “Why’re you awake?”

“You were suffocating me”

She lifts her head, barely, one eye open in a squint. “Liar. You love it”

“Do I?”

“You do”

Her head plops back down, face squished into the pillow again. She mumbles something unintelligible. You don’t need to understand it. You already know it’s some excuse for why she refuses to let you leave the bed. It always is. Like yesterday, when she said, “We’ve got nothing to do,” fully aware you had laundry piling up, dishes in the sink, emails to answer. You stayed in bed anyway.

“You’re so clingy,” you say, but there’s no edge to it.

“Only for you,” she replies, voice muffled and half-asleep, and you realise, for the thousandth time, she’s right.

[astroboots]

Stitches and Claws

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You find yourself in a compromising position on your knees when you help stitch up Miguel's wounds.

Content: Blowjob, riding cock, overstimulation, fangs and claws. Miguel kind of likes his horniness with a little bit of pain? Just a smidge.

Word Count: 3.3k

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

"Miguel, can you please just relax?"

"I am relaxed," comes the sharp reply, as he glares down at you. Jaw so tense, you're surprised his molar teeth hasn't cracked under the pressure.

Your hand comes to his knee, as you spread them wider, and you can feel the plane of his thighs tense underneath your palm.

Yeah, the man is anything but relaxed.

Miguel is still in his suit. Skin covered in dark blue and red. The only part of him not covered in the fancy spandex (and if he heard you call it that he'd be livid, cause it's Unstable Molecule fabric, not spandex) is that scowling face of his and a small patch on the inside of his left thigh. An area the size of your hand that's bare, revealing his tanned skin underneath and a nasty looking injury.

You poise the needle in your hand against the gaping wound. You don't even get the chance to make skin contact with the tip before he's hissing at you like some damned feral cat.

"I haven't even touched you yet. This is going to hurt a hell of a lot more if you keep fighting me."

You probably sound more than a little bit irritated, because this position isn't exactly comfortable. The hardwood floor is digging into your knees, and with hindsight you should've taken the cushion he'd offered you before.

God, up close, that wound look really bad. Four inches in length, red and angry. You're not a doctor. You don't know why the hell you agreed to do this. For all you know you're going to get the wound infected or worse.

"Miggy, I don't know about this, don't you think it's better go to a hospital. What if it gets infected? You'll end up with gangrene and then we'll have to amputate it and then what?"

"That's not going to happen. It's a tiny cut."

"Fine, but I'm not a medical professional and I'm probably gonna make it scar to shit."

"So it'll scar. It'll be your permanent mark on me."

"I'm worried I'm going to mess this up".

"No", he says, shaking his head. "I trust you."

Your cheeks warm at the words, barely able to look him in the eyes after he's said it.

Fuck, he'd have to go and pull that card didn't he?

With a big sigh and bigger reluctance, you dip your head down as you pierce the needle through the skin, threading it across. There's a muffled pained noise from above. The leather of your armchair squeaks as he grips it tight.

A sympathetic ache tugs in your chest at his pain and your hand still against his thigh. "Do I need to stop?"

"No, keep going," he bites out through gritted teeth.

From the corner of your eyes, you catch a glimpse of the pointed edges of his corner teeth protruding against his bottom lip. It's hard to keep your hands still when your fingertips tingle at the sight of them.

Jesus, you need to get your head out of the gutter. This is hardly the time. You persevere, dipping back down for a better view, so you can sew up the gaping wound as best as you can, ignoring the warmth of his firm thighs that are caging you in at your sides.

You try to pretend you don't hear the strained noises he's making. (Noises that are much too similar to the ones he makes when he's the one between your thighs). Practically bury your head into his thigh so you can no longer see the way his broad chest heaves or how he bites down hard on his lip when you make another stitch.

"Stop, stop!" he demands.

His hand grips down hard on your shoulder, pressing you backwards, but you ignore it, because the needle is already halfway through his skin, and for a man who is constantly battling supervillains on skyscrapers with jetpacks and regularly crashes into skyscrapers, he can be such a baby sometimes.

"Miguel, stop, I need to--"

"Enough!" He growls, his hand pushes more insistently, determined to pry you off him until your ass lands on the hardwood floor behind you.

"Let me do it myself."

Let him? Let him?! As if you had forced him to make you do this? This asshole. Swear to god! He's the one who came home in this state, plonked his dumptruck ass in your chair and asked you to help him. He's the one who sweet-talked you with his: "I trust you," when you had soundly suggested he go to the hospital.

He's always like this. Running hot then cold. Asking you to help, then pushing you away in the next second. It's a miracle you don't have permanent neck injuries with the metaphorical whiplashes he keeps giving you.

You drag your eyes upwards, the way he's hunched on himself in your chair, covering his thigh. His face is turned to the side away from you.

You don't know why he's being so unhelpful about this.

Stitching up your superhero boyfriend with a $10 Amazon sewing kit isn't your idea of a perfect Saturday night. But now that you've started you need to finish up with the stitches, you can't just leave it as it is.

"I'm sorry that I went too rough. If I hurt you, I can go slower, okay?"

He doesn't answer you, just drags one large hand over his face. It's only then that you notice that his ears and bits of his cheeks are flushed a darker shade of red than the tanned tone of his hand.

"That's not the problem I'm having," he mutters.

"Well then, can you tell me what the problem is?"

No answer.

Leaning forward, you place your hand back on his knee. That finally seems to get his attention and he removes his hand.

"You said you trusted me right? So let me know what's wrong so I can take care of you. Please?"

For all his obstinate stubbornness, Miguel is just as susceptible as you are to that card. He groans dramatically, collapsing back into the chair with a defeated expression on his face.

His legs shift in the chair, spreading outwards. The arm draped across his lap falls away, and the tight fit of his supersuit does absolutely nothing to disguise the shape of his cock, hard and heavy under the clinging fabric.

Oh. oh.

Clearly you’re not the only one being affected by the forced proximity of this situation.

"See the problem?" he says.

You look up and his eyes flicker away sheepishly. If you didn't know better, and if it wasn't for the scowl still plastered on his face, you might've mistaken him for being embarrassed. If you didn't know better, you might've made the mistake of calling him cute.

You ache between your thighs at the sight of him. But even though there's nothing more you'd like than leap into his lap and fill that ache with every inch of him, there's other priorities right now.

Crawling forward, you shoulder your way back between his thighs and settle there.

"Let me finish," you insist. "If you let me finish, then I'll help you with your problem."

It's an uneven bargain to say the last. Because the reward you're offering him, is something you want more than your next breath, and you have to bite back the 'ohthankyousweetjesus' on the tip of your tongue, when he gives you a small nod to seal the deal.

Maybe it's your newfound incentive, but this time as you pinch the needle between your fingers to stitch him up, it's a swift and efficient ordeal. You refuse to allow yourself to get distracted, eyes focused on your goal, even as you hear him groan above or shift underneath you. Not until the last stitch is done.

When you finally let yourself tilt your head back up. His eyes are pinned on your face, and you can see now that the familiar brown shade replaced by a red tinge.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you try to keep your eyes fixed on his, holding the contact as you lean forward. Anticipation rides heavy on your spine, as your mouth inches forward, until your lip press against the thin fabric of his crotch, and you nuzzle against the rigid shape of him.

The leather of your chair creaks, and there's a rip. From this angle your view is a bit obscured, but you catch sight of his hands, the firm unforgiving grip he has on your poor armchair. The extended sharp talons piercing through the soft leather in his excitement.

All you hear from above, is a breathy, "Fuck", then the thin fabric separating him from your mouth disintegrates, the dark blue fabric making way for his tanned skin underneath.

Then he's right there. Bare and naked for you to touch. His cock jutting upright between his thighs. He's ruddy and flushed, the fat tip of him glistening with precome that wells from the slit that you can practically already taste on the tip of your tongue.

Your mouth salivates as you part your lips to take him.

To call Miguel thick is an understatement. It's a struggle to fit him in your mouth, your jaw strain with the effort as you slide him further down. As deep as you can, until the blunt tip nudges against the back of your throat and you have to swallow around him in a panicked fit to suppress the reflexive gag pushing back in you.

It's always the hardest the first time. Your mind and throat instinctively fighting you, as you try to swallow down the intimidating girth of him.

"Take it slow nena," Miguel rasps from somewhere above. His voice is a slow and melted hum that drips sweet and honeyed in your veins, and that helps.

You take a deep inhale from your nose, taking in the familiar musky scent of him, and feel your throat relax around him, accommodating to his thickness.

Your thighs ache with arousal. Panties wet and slick as you clench down around nothing. Everything is tightly wound inside you. Your stomach heavy with the dizzying heat as the weight of him rests so fucking perfectly on your tongue.

It's all you can take. You shove your fumbling fingers between your thighs, tugging at the edge of your panties until the obscene wetness greets you and drag it up against your clit.

Relief and pleasure surges through your head, filling your veins with the sensation and you rock into the palm of your hand seeking for more of your own touch.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Your fingers still at the question. You're not exactly embarrassed, it's not like you're doing anything wrong, but you feel sheepish all the same at being caught.

You pull off his cock, letting it slide between your lips and when you finally look back up, he's staring down at you with a dark hunger in those otherworldly crimson eyes like he wants to eat you whole.

"Fuck, come up here," he directs, but you ignore him. Tongue lapping at the tip, savouring the heady taste of him as you run the flatness of your tongue down the length of him.

"Nena," he bites off impatiently. "Up!"

He doesn't wait for your reply this time. So fucking impatient this man.

He's already lunging forward, arms circling your torso as he pulls you up and into his lap with an impressive ease. His arm comes to your thighs, rearranging you to his liking in his lap, one large hand gripping his cock as he positions you above.

"Sit on my cock, nena. Ride me."

Your eyes flit to the poorly stitched up wound on his thigh that looks flimsy to say the least.

"Won't that hurt you?"

His head tilts, brow arching with that sardonic expression of his as if he doesn't see what the problem is. "And?"

This is such a bad idea. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you wanted to stop now. Instead you settle on a compromise to ensure that you can at least limit the potential damage on him.

"You have to stay still for me, or you'll tear the stitches," you warn.

He nods perfunctorily in agreement and you don't think he's even listening to you. No surprise there, Miguel has never been the best at listening to yours (or anyone's) instructions. He'll do what he wants as he sees fit.

But you can't find it in you to stop. Not when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and the velvety smoothness of it twitch in your grip. Not when you notch the tip of his cock to your slick entrance and can feel yourself dripping down his length.

The only thing you care about is to have him inside you.

You lower yourself onto him, sliding down, inch by maddening inch, as that thickness stretches you to your limits and white hot pleasure invades every one of your cells until you feel drunk on the sensation.

"That's it," he encourages, with a sharp inhale, hand gripping to the sides of your hips. The honed edge of his talons gripping into your flesh, but never breaking the skin.

Your thighs are shaking as you inch down on him until they are pressed flush to his hips, and his cock is kissing that perfect spot deep inside you that has your vision whiten. Thick and sweet.

As promised, he doesn't move. Even though you can tell from the muscle twitching in his jaw, that there's nothing more he wants than to flip you over and thrust into you hard and deep until you're screaming his name with a force that makes your lungs burn out.

You lift your hips, savoring the sweet drag of his cock against your cunt, slow and unhurried until only the blunt tip of him rests inside you and stay there.

"Nena," Miguel says, and the nickname on his tongue sounds like a warning.

He's not a fan of the slow pace you're giving him apparently.

But you've never been one to heed his warnings. Instead you slide down on him, just as slowly, letting his cock fill you at a leisurely pace and it is fucking heaven.

You still as he bottoms up inside you, before you do it all over again. And again. Then again. To each grumpy groan of his that's mixed with pleasure and impatience. Then you do it again.

It's only a matter of time before his short-spanned patience snap. You can practically see it in the furrowed line of his thick brows, as you raise yourself up on his knees. His sharp canines bites down on his bottom lip, breaking the skin and that is all the warning you get before his arms wraps tight around your ribs, knocking the very breath out of your lungs.

Miguel's arms pushes you down flush on his cock, it's strong and demanding. A stubborn grip until he makes sure you've taken all of him to the root. It's blinding you with the force of it, and all you can do as he buries his face, sharp teeth poised at your shoulders, is whine.

Good, it feels so fucking good. The sweet ache of his cock filling every inch of you. You can't think anymore.

You try to raise yourself again on his cock but you wobble, the muscles in your thighs screaming in protest and gives under, unable to lift yourself back up again.

Fuck, you don't know if you can move anymore.

In a split of a second, Miguel straightens up and pulls you into his chest. "So pretty, nena," he groans into your skin, while he ruts up and into you, fucking his cock deeper.

You should probably scold him. Try to stop him somehow, so that he doesn't rip the tenuous stitches on his wound. But you can't bring yourself to open your mouth. Not when it feels this good. Not when aching pleasure is pulling you down under and robbing you of your breath and every word in your vocabulary.

"You feel so fucking good. Stretched so tight around me. Just so fucking pretty when you take my cock."

The sharp edge of his fangs skirts gently across the soft flesh of your throat, and sets every nerve in you alight. Every part of you tingles. From the tip of your fingers to the curl of your toes. That telltale warmth and heat coiling in your stomach and spreads outwards ratcheting up to a fever pitch.

Your orgasm breaks. It rushes over you, hard and punishing. Your body shakes, thighs tensing and your heart is beating hard and fast into a gallop in your chest. You shake and tremble in his lap as it courses through your veins. Lungs squeezed painfully tight as the sweet bliss of it invades your ribs and you struggle to catch your breath.

You still feel it, rushing and pulsing from your stomach down your thighs, it doesn't even have a moment to properly subside.

Miguel doesn't stop. His hands are already on your waist, lifting you up and almost off his still hard cock and you gasp at the shift in pressure inside you. You're clenching down around the fat tip of him reflexively, and there's no time to adjust, no time to think, next thing you know, he lifts his hips while pushing you down on the length of his cock. All in one swift, and harsh, unforgiving motion.

It's so much, too much. You whimper at the next thrust, the whole of your body wracked in shivers as the sensation overfloods your brain. As good as if it feels, you don't know if you can't take much more.

"Keep going, don't stop. I know it's hard nena. I know you're sensitive." he coos, his hands are gentle on your hips, guiding your movements, but for all his sweet cajoling words, and for all that you're struggling he's not easing up.

"Keep going. Keep squeezing my cock like that and I'll fill you up. I'll fill you up with every drop of me."

He keeps encouraging you, as if you have any other choice but to take his demanding thrusts. As if there is anywhere for you to go with how firmly he's holding you to him.

Fuck you can't, you can't-- oh fuck, you're--

Your arms scramble to grab onto something, anything, fingers digging deep into the firm muscles underneath.

It's chaos.

He thrusts up again. Deep and demanding and your brain shortcircuits.

Sharp electricity surges through your spine and it is blinding. All you can do is hold on to him, to claw on and hold for dear life, or you're pretty sure you're gonna fall off the edge of the earth into oblivion if you lose your grip.

Distantly, you hear him hiss in your ear, feel his hips stutter up against yours, cock pulsing inside of you, but you're too far gone to piece it all together.

All you know is that you're coming again or maybe you never stopped and this is that first orgasm still wreaking havoc on your body. Maybe it'll never stop. The sensation feels like a punch to your gut, consuming and all at once. Your eyes must cross behind your head, because your vision goes dark and blank, wiped clean of thoughts. The room seems to tilt, and crash then disappear. There's no weight to your limbs, and your thighs are so numb, you're not even sure they are there anymore. Your body is not your own.

When you come to, you're still perched on his lap. You feel like wrung out and boneless, body spent and broken. His arms wrapped around your torso the only thing that's keeping you upright.

The arms of your leather chair have been scratched up to hell. Long claw marks brandishing each side.

He looks like an absolute mess. Brown curl a deranged mop on the top of his head, sheen of sweat over his tanned skin. But he looks good, messy. Looks fucking beautiful in a way that has your chest squeeze tight when you gaze at him.

Miraculously, the stitches on his thigh has held up somehow and you feel more than a little ounce of pride of your own sewing skills at the feat.

Your hands slide off of him from where they're still gripping on tight onto him and Miguel's eyes follow the motion to his biceps where your nails have broken through skin. The tiny crescent marks looks red and raw and painful.

"Shit, Miggy I'm sorry."

He blinks up at you, eyes a little bit dazed before he breaks out into a smile. He raises his arm and looks at the mark with a pleased and admiring expression one filled with pride.

"I hope it leaves a scar," he says.

Dedication & Credits:

For @thirstworldproblemss who had to listen to me figure this one out, I'm still trying to find my voice for Miguel so sorry if this is a bit clunky for you.

Also dedicated to @guruan whose artwork literally inspires me to write/think/breathe smut 24-7 like a 7-eleven store. It's always open for slut business here. This artpiece with the spread thighs definitely inspired this oneshot.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[burnthatbridge]

8x01 misery missing scene

post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer

They stick around long enough to help clear up. 

The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 

“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 

“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.

Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 

“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 

“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 

Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 

Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 

Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 

At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 

Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 

Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 

They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  

“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.

Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 

“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.

And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”

“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 

Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 

Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 

Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.

He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 

Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.

The agony in his gaze is palpable.

Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 

“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 

“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 

“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”

“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“

“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 

Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.

Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”

“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”

“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”

“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”

“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”

“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.

He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 

“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”

“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.

As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 

[shoyudon]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏 .ᐟ

starring. gojo satoru x fem! reader

heads up. gojo being clingy + sick

note. starting off brand new and fresh, whew. anyways, first post on the blog, yay! i've seen on tiktok that people commented that boys get 100x more dramatic when they get sick, so here's gojo being sick.

gojo is childish. there was no denying that — but sick gojo? times two, or maybe times three? deemed as the strongest sorcerer, he's had his fair share of getting injured, hurt, or even life threatening injuries. and he still ends up staying strong for the sake of everyone.

yet, here he was, all bundled and tucked in. a wet and cold teal colored towel sleeping on his forehead as he sniffled loudly, "satoru, how many times do i have to tell you to let it out? don't sniffle it — you'll hurt your head."

"baby," he whines out hoarsely, "i can't. your boyfriend is dying. i don't think i can do this any longer."

you rolled your eyes, a huff escaping your throat, "satoru, you're being dramatic aga—" before you could finish your statement, gojo grabbed your hand, squeezing it.

"i'm dying, i love you — i'm going to miss you."

this prompted you to crack a small smile, raising a brow as you squeezed his hand back slightly, "you're not dying, it's just a fever! you've gotten worse wounds, 'toru."

gojo cried out softly, phlegm coughed out of his throat, leaving him whining and squirming uncomfortably on the bed. he shrugs off the towel that has now gone warm because of his temperature, "i need love and affection, please cuddle me."

"no, what you need is sleep and rest."

"cuddle me to sleep, i can't sleep without your cuddles and you know it," he childishly tantrums, slamming his fist to the mattress weakly, "please? or i'm going to hold my breath, no joke, baby."

scoffing, you replied, "have you tried counting sheep?" it was meant to be sarcastic.

a strained whine yet again came from him, "baby, do you not love me anymore? counting sheep is a myth, it doesn't work. only your cuddles do," he opened his arms widely, waiting for you to fall into them.

"you're sick. i could get sick," you flick his forehead, "that's why — rest and then get better, you can get the cuddles after you recover."

gojo gasps out dramatically, "the least you could do is give me a smooch on the forehead, that'll make me feel a bit better, i guarantee," he serenades.

despite how dramatic he is, you still gave in to his words. with a light laugh, you leaned in; pressing your lips onto his warm forehead — and then to the tip of his nose, "there, two kisses. feel better soon, yeah?"

he sighs out in content, "this is so much better than counting sheep. can i have another one, on my lips?"

"go to sleep."

gojo narrows his eyes, "whatever happened to i love you?" he positioned himself so that his back was facing you instead, "i knew it, you don't love me anymore."

you grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back to face you — brushing his white locks back with your fingers, you smiled down at him, "i love you, satoru. get well soon, baby."

he beams out happily, leaning into your touch like a happy puppy, "i love you most!"

© shoyudon 2024 . no copies or reposting allowed !

[apuckishwit]

When Your Boyfriend's a Reformed Mean Girl

100 percent inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR75sjkf/

Time seems to do wierd things for Eddie Munson.

It's something Steve has gotten used to, in the year they've been dating. Eddie is attentive and affectionate, always makes sure Steve needs are being met, always goes the extra mile to let Steve know how much he loves him, how much he cherishes their time together. In many ways, he's the best partner Steve's ever had.

Just...sometimes things like approaching deadlines and important dates seem to literally not register in his brain until it's almost too late. And not even then, sometimes.

Eddie acknowledges that it's a problem. He puts every effort into finding workarounds. There is a calendar hanging at both his (brand new, government-funded) trailer and Steve's house, hanging right by the door with color-coded schedules and a pack of Post-It notes and a cup of pens sitting on a little table below it in case something changes or comes up. Steve has a dedicated half hour every night where he's allowed to remind Eddie of things they have coming up, or ask if they've been added to the calendar and Eddie is one hundred percent not allowed to gripe about being nagged in that thirty minutes. Not that he would, because most of the time there's at least one, "Oh, shit, forgot about that." When something slips through the cracks, he apologizes promptly and sincerely if it's something that affects someone other than him and he is always trying to do better.

Steve understands. Hell, after as many concussions as he's had, details get away from him too sometimes. There's several color-coded blocks on the calendar for Steve, as well. Sometimes, Eddie just forgets things despite his best efforts.

But their anniversary? The date that Steve has been carefully planning for almost a month to celebrate their first (of hopefully, many) year together as a couple? Really?

Eddie is going to be horrified.

He is going to feel so bad, and so guilty, and he is absolutely going to go all out to make it up to Steve. Steve knows this. He knows Eddie loves him, and that Eddie was looking forward to tonight as much as he was, and that this is just an instance of Eddie's brain betraying him, and not him actively trying to hurt Steve, or be dismissive of him. Eddie is going to feel awful when he realizes that he stood Steve up on their one-year anniversary to fight imaginary dragons with the boys. Hell, the boys are probably going to feel awful when they realize they gave Eddie something else to focus on in the lead-up to his one-year anniversary.

Well. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are going to feel awful. Mike will probably think it's hilarious.

The point is, Steve knows Eddie didn't do this on purpose, and it's not that Eddie doesn't value his time with Steve enough to remember the date, and so he's merely irritated. Maybe a little exasperated. Not truly angry.

All he has to do is radio over to Wheeler's place and remind Eddie what the date is. His boyfriend will literally drop everything, will probably not even bother to pack up his precious miniatures and dice before he's tearing out of the driveway and breaking every traffic law imaginable to get to Steve's house. Steve doesn't actually want Eddie to get a ticket or anything, though. Besides.

He's feeling a little petty.

There's steaks waiting to be tossed on the grill, twice-baked potatoes in the oven, and a fucking homemade chiffon cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream chilling in the fridge. Eddie's gift is sitting on the counter, in an elegant little gift bag tied with black ribbon.

"Hey Rob, you wanna come over for dinner?" he says into his walkie, deciding to let Fate decide if his boyfriend is listening and catches a clue.

"Do I get a piece of that cake you made?" Robin replies immediately, amusement already dancing in her voice because she's his (platonic) soulmate and she can read his mind.

"You can take the leftovers home," he says.

And then his (romantic) soulmate, who can usually read his mind, comes over the channel as well. "Have fun, babe!" Eddie says brightly. "This is probably going to run later than I thought. I'll probably just pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Okay."

"Love you!" Eddie says, and signs off.

Robin brings a bottle of wine she stole from her parents' pantry and they demolish the dinner and half the cake. Steve does get another package of steaks out to thaw in the fridge for tomorrow, though, and blows out the fancy candles he'd lit before they burn too low to be used again. Fuck if he's making another chiffon cake, though, persnickety little thing. He calls Enzo's and orders a chocolate marble cheesecake to be picked up tomorrow.

"So you gonna milk this for a nice present or what?" Robin asks as Steve is packing the remains of the cake for her to take home, as promised.

"Nah. He's fucking perfect like 90% of the time...I'm not gonna get mad at him for the other ten." Robin smiles at him, a little gooey-eyed. Steve returns it with a smirk. "But I'm not letting him off the hook entirely."

He has just finished putting the dishes away when he hears the rumble of Eddie's van in the driveway. He glances down at his watch, laughing to himself a little when he notes that while late, it is far, far too early for a gaming session to be done. He scoops his little gift bag off the counter and saunters to the front door just in time for a frantic knocking to sound. He schools his features and opens the door.

"Steve! Stevie, baby, I am so, so sorry. I swear to God, I had tonight written down in like five different places, but Dustin wanted to try a new character class and we haven't done this campaign yet, and I got so excited...I'm so sorry I forgot, but I'm here and I SWEAR I will make it up to you!" Eddie pauses for breath, wild-eyed and panting.

Steve holds the silence for a moment, and then shakes his head, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Eddie's cheek. "You're such a nerd," he says, affection dripping from his words. He sighs. "I hope you know, now I'm expecting flowers tomorrow. And I get to pick the movies for, like, two weeks with no complaints."

Eddie almost wilts in relief. "Absolutely none," he promises, reaching out to grip Steve's hand. "I will make tomorrow night AMAZING. I promise."

Steve smiles at him, his chest aching with the love he feels for this man. But he's still feeling just a little bit petty. He holds the bag out to Eddie, tilting his head coyly. "You can still open this tonight, though."

"Babe! I thought we said no gifts." He takes the bag in his hands, plucking at the ribbon.

Steve's smile turns just a little sharper. He worked fucking hard on that cake. "It's kind of for both of us, really. It's what I was gonna wear up to bed tonight."

Eddie peeks in the box, his brow furrowing. "Stevie...there's nothing but strawberry lip gloss and a bottle of lube in here." He looks up, and freezes as his brain catches up with what his mouth just said.

Steve leans forward and kisses him, hard, long, and absolutely filthy. "Suffer," he whispers against his boyfriend's lips.

Then he shuts the door in his face.

[josephquinnswhore]

Her Sanctuary

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you start pulling away from Joel, he’s scared he’s going to lose you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: mentions of anxiety, bad mental health. Joel talking about Sarah!!! 😭 soft Joel!!!!! Hurt/comfort.

Note: kinda just wrote this on a whim after rewatching the last of us. I miss joel. @cool-iguana ily.

You were an outspoken person. About everything. There wasn’t a single topic you didn’t have an opinion on. Always a snarky reply, a joke, or following pun. That’s just who you were.

Joel spent months wishing you weren’t like that. That you’d just shut up so he could have a few moments of silence between you. His limited replies included a scowl, raised eyebrow or an annoyed grunt. He spent months travelling across the country with you, refusing to open up and reluctantly teaching you how to shoot his rifle.

He didn’t like how you made him feel. How he had started looking at you romantically. The sound of your laugh stirred something in him. Your bright eyes lightened the darkness in his own.

He never allowed himself to let you in; as much as a fight he put up. You wormed yourself into the cracks in the walls around his heart and started to mend him. He doesn’t know when it happened exactly, all he can remember is wanting to hear more of her laugh, he even found her a joke book in an old RV he scouted one evening at the trailer park they posted in overnight.

He had learned how to accept your brightness, for all its worth. Your dorky comments, crooked grin and boisterous laugh. Even those small touches to his back and arm when you would pass by, excusing yourself. Always followed by a mumbled, “sorry.”

But this.. this he didn’t know what to do. He was tearing himself up inside for not knowing what to do. You were quiet today, something bubbling inside of you that radiated off and in between them in a depressing aura that had Joel feeling breathless.

He even found himself staring at you, from the corner of his eyes, turning his head to watch you, making sure you kept up as you lingered a few steps behind him, completely silent. Not laughing, not crying. Silent.

It was heart wrenching and he couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces together to finish the puzzle. Nothing extreme had happened that they hadn’t faced before. They’d fought off some infected yesterday but—it couldn’t have possibly been that. They were fine. They survived.

Maybe you just wasn’t coping as well as he thought you were.

He tried to think of things to cheer you up, and the guilt consumed him when he realised he didn’t really know much about you. He had never asked. It was always you asking about him, pestering to know more about him. He cursed himself for being so selfish.

The harsh reality of their one sided dynamic hit Joel hard, he had always protected her, with his physical strength and ability to kill. That primal instinct that kept them both alive and for what? He couldn’t help her when she actually needed.

He felt utterly useless.

Until. He had an idea. That stupid fucking joke book that she treasured, had to cheer her up right? It had to draw out one of those loud laughs that made his insides flip, the smile that made your eyes squint that his heart craved to see.

He reached into his pack, pulling it out. She’d stashed it in there, insisting that her pack had no more room. He didn’t argue, he knew she struggled carrying the weight. He decided that day that he could carry the extra burden for things that she decided she couldn’t bare.

This baggage however, was tricker. He would take it if he could. He hoped this would work.

He turns around to look at you and what he saw made him feel like there was a metal vice around his heart, your slumped shoulders and black eye bags complimented a vacant look in your eyes, you were unrecognisable in comparison to your default sunshine personality.

“Hey, I was thinkin’ about that algae-bra joke you told me the other day.” He tried to make his voice as soft as he could when he spoke to you, trying to nudge a reaction.

Nothing, she barely looks at him. “Hm?”

“Anyways, I was thinkin’ we could pass the time with this.” He held the joke book in his hand, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, adjusting his rifle strap as he shuffles on his feet.

You felt a spark of something, something that was quickly put out by the fear and darkness that felt so consuming.

“Maybe later?” You offer quietly, walking past him. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Joel felt defeated. How had he failed so badly. How did he let this fester inside of her like a fucking disease that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

This was an infection in your mind; that he figured on his own. This kind of infection he didn’t know how to cure. He had always pushed his own anxiety and panic attacks down burying them, until he learnt to live with it.

But you; the one fucking good thing in his life that brought him life, hope. He wouldn’t allow you to ignore it, to let it consume you.

He wasn’t going to let you fall victim. He would do whatever it took.

He set up camp in silence, stuck in his head about how the fuck he was going to help you, a feeling of shame overwhelmed him as he sits by the fire, rubbing his hands together as you sit in your sleeping bag, across from him.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, legs pulled to your chest. It made you look smaller, the way you held yourself protectively. A reflection of the flames flicking in her eyes only made the mood more somber.

He can’t say something came over him, possessed him to say what he felt bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to lose her. To him, you were too important, you disarmed him and weaselled your way into his heart. He wasn’t going to let you leave, not ever.

“When my little girl used to get upset, she always shut me out like this, like what you’re doin’, I always told myself she’ll come around.” He nods to himself, as if reminiscing the memory.

You stay silent, watching him. Watching his expression soften.

“An’ now she’s gone it’s all I regret. Not doin’ more. Not making more of an effort with shit like that. Fuckin’ haunts me.”

Not once in the months they’ve travelled he had mentioned having children, a daughter, let alone a decreased one. He had mumbled a few times in his sleep, incoherently a name. Serine, Sari, Sarah? You could never figure it out, and never pried.

But here he was, sitting across from her looking on with longing eyes and his features the most relaxed she’d ever seen.

“I ain’t makin’ that same mistake again, seein’ you like this, pullin’ away. Feels like I’m failin’ all over again.” His admission shocks you, enough to stun a quiet confession from your own lips before you could think.

“I thought you were going to die.” He seems surprised to hear you talking, but stays silent, wanting you to talk more, wanting to hear more.

“I know we’ve dealt with plenty of infected.. we’ve had some close calls even, sure.” Your heart clenched as you recall.

Joel lying on the ground with that infected on top of him, Joel’s gun inches away as he fumbles, fingertips desperately grasping the hairs of grass as he searched for his weapon.

Holding the infected away with one arm, grunting in a struggle that he was bound to lose. It’s rotten teeth and fleshy stench was so close to grazing Joel’s neck. Inches away from sealing his fate.

You had somehow mustered some courage inside of you to tackle the infected, throwing it off Joel and giving him a split second to reach for his gun and put a bullet in the back of the infected’s head.

Your jeans still stunk, of gunpowder and blood. A stench so vile you couldn’t help but relive the moment, it was on your mind every second, unable to process it all.

You almost lost Joel. Joel almost fucking died. It was a breath away.

“I thought if I just—shut down maybe you’d get tired and ditch me.. worse yet I’d stop caring about you so damn much.” Joel’s ears perked at her soft admission.

“And I know you think I’m just—some annoying fucking girl that you have to protect and feed and I’m sorry..“ Joel wouldn’t allow another word.

“Hey. Look at me, now.” His tone was soft, but held a firmness, there was no doubt he wasn’t asking you. He needed you to look at him.

His face looked so soft beyond the flames of the fire, his expression was tender and kind; as no one had ever seen before. He looked beautiful, fuck, he was handsome. You’d always thought so.

“I know it was a close call, we’ve learnt from it, yeah? We won’t make the same mistake.” You nod, Joel continues.

“Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. Please.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupts by patting the space beside him.

“C’mere sweetheart. C’mon.” You don’t waste a moment to plop beside him. He wraps his sleeping bag around you and his big hands grip around your torso to pull you into his.

“Tell me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

For the first time since you’ve known Joel. He was the one asking for comfort, reassurance.

“Promise I’m not going anywhere Joel.” You nuzzle into him, his natural musk strung a desire out of her that all she could do was lean into him.

“You get some rest now. I’ll keep ya safe.” He murmurs into her ear, a promise.

All you could do was obey him. Closing your eyes as your body and mind revelled in the intimacy and vulnerability of this moment.

His head rested on top of yours, your hair gets stuck in the rugged coarse hairs of his beard. He finds himself nuzzling into you, allowing himself to get lost in you. After months of fighting you; he lets go. He lets you in.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let anything fucking hurt you. Not even yourself. He would be your sanctuary. No matter what it took.

[ma1dita]

Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK

the perfect weekend

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)

summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise

a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE 

(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)

—

This weekend felt like a dream.

Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.

But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)

Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.

But he couldn’t think of how.

He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).

When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).

He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.

Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.

“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”

Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.

“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”

And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky. 

He’s never needed perfect.

He just needs you.

His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.

You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with? 

“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”

His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.

“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”

You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.

“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.

“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.

“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”

Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.

“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”

“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”

The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.

“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.

You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.

---

(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (struck out won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun

[fullofbees]

@pompeiisystem requested: #135 With Beel and a easily flustered mc? Please I'm begging I love the big himbo man with every inch of my heart lol

CW: Talking about masturbation

»»----------► GN!Reader

“Beel, look how many likes your devilgram photo got!” You cheer, showing the gluttonous demon your phone screen.

The post was meant to be inspirational, in a cheesy influencer way, at Asmo’s suggestion. The first showed Beelzebub before Fangol practice, sitting on a bench in the locker room. One hand is slipping on his cleats while the other shovels chips into his mouth. Swipe left, and you’ll find the after photo; Beel grinning in his sweat-drenched jersey, cheeks rosy from exercise, a towel slung across his shoulders. Nobody knows that he’s smiling because, behind the camera, you’re bribing him with food so he’ll stay still for the picture.

“We eatin’ good tonight, chat. Everyone say thank you Beel for the meal?” He reads aloud, head tilted in confusion.

Your eyes widen as you look back to the screen, noticing the top comment under the post. The replies are filled with equally thirsty comments and very suggestive emojis.

The heat of embarrassment starts at the tip of your ears, making its way down your face and neck. Of course, you agree wholeheartedly with the commenters. Beelzebub has no business being as attractive as he is; solid muscle that could hold you like it was nothing, large hands that are used to stuffing-

The demon interrupts your runaway thoughts, “Wait, what does that one say?” He points to another comment with a crumb-riddled finger.

“Oh! Um,” you hum, willing your eyes to focus on the text, “New... masturbation material...”

When you look at the demon, he is already distracted by the TV - an ad for a local restaurant. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.

“Sorry, are these not... weird to you?”

“Not really,” he says as he opens his next snack, “Everyone needs something to fantasize about.”

Don’t remind me. Too many nights have you spent alone in your bed, hand between your legs, fantasizing about the demon just down the hall from you. Would he be fast and rough, or would he take his time? Would he savor you like a delicacy, or would he devour you whole in his hunger? Why did the image of bruises in the shape of his bite excite you so damn much?

“I suppose you’re right,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. This is not a conversation you ever imagined having, nor did you expect Beel to be so nonchalant about it. Compared to your flustered state - if this were one of Levi’s manga, then blood would be dripping out of your nose right now - Beel is almost statuesque in his composure.

“I’ll be honest: I get off to the thought of you.”

Scratch that; blood would be pouring.

You’d bury your face in your hands if it weren’t for the fact that you’re frozen in shock. Beel’s calm demeanor cracks slightly; a faint blush blossoms on his face as he fidgets, one hand nervously clutching the other’s wrist.

Lips part to break the awkward silence, but your mind is blank, and any words mustered die in your throat. Excitement, lust, and anxiety overwhelm you in waves. The crash comes when your phone clatters to the floor, having slipped from your increasingly sweaty grip.

Both of you react, reaching for the device at your feet. Your fingers brush together, and you must bite your lip to keep yourself in check.

Beel doesn’t move, eyes fixed on the sight of his hand easily dwarfing yours. It isn’t until you clear your throat that he returns to wringing his wrist in worry.

Neither of you speak, yet neither of you leave. You begin to mirror Beel, fingers nervously picking at loose threads hanging from your sleeves. It takes a moment for your heart to settle, for your sinful curiosity to outweigh your apprehension.

Your voice is quiet, but not hesitant when you ask, “What do you think I taste like?”

Beel’s stomach roars in its familiar hunger.

“Will you let me find out?”

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Sorry there's no actual smut TvT but I love flirty dialogue that allows your mind to wander ;3

[daisies-daydreams]

Thanks for doing my requests!! I really love reading your posts c:

Wanted to ask if you could write something with König x reader, where he tries to surprise us by taking off his mask for the first time but we walk past him not realizing it’s him at first glance

I wonder if he would be heartbroken or too shocked to react for a couple of minutes LOL

Header Credit: @ave661

Pairing: König x F!Reader Category: Fluff (with a teeny tiny bit of angst) Warnings: Mentions of body insecurities/scars Word Count: 600+

A/N: Hello again! Thank you so much for your request! I thought of a few scenarios in my head for this one, but I hope you enjoy the one I chose!

König cracked a wry grin as he strolled out of the locker rooms. It was typical for you to show up late for your daily workout routine with him…something he’d use to his advantage. Several people eyed him as he scanned the gym, only to find that you were still nowhere in sight. The Colonel smirked before making his way towards the weights.

He whistled to himself as he plucked two dumbbells from the rack. König glanced at his reflection in the mirror before quickly turning his head, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue at the large scar across his cheek. He shook his head before taking a deep breath. The giant man grunted as he flexed his arms, his muscles bulging as he looked around for you while he did his reps.

Still nothing.

König finished his routine and sighed before someone suddenly bumped into him.

“Oops! Sorry about that,” you said as you looked him dead in the eye. König’s mouth quickly became dry as you quickly turned your back to him and made your way towards the treadmills. The giant man blinked.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to tease him, so surely you must’ve recognized him by his build...or at least his eyes…right?

“…Sir? Sir, are you alright?” a stranger asked as they tapped his shoulder. König flinched and spun around, causing the stranger to gasp and back away. “S-Sorry, you were just standing here for a few minutes,” they gulped. König’s shoulders tightened as he flared his nostrils. Christ, a few minutes? He gave the person a quick nod before making his way towards you.

The Colonel puffed out his chest a little as he approached the treadmill you were jogging on. You glanced up from your phone, your brows knitting together as you plucked out your earbuds.

“Do you need something?” you asked with a puzzled look as you stopped the machine. König felt his chest tighten as you continued to stare at him. He frowned.

“Hase...don't you recognize your own Colonel?” he asked as he clenched his fists. He saw the gears turning in your head before your eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. The man watched you with his icy blue eyes as you suddenly put your phone down. His breath hitched when you cupped cup his scarred face in your warm hands. You tilted his head side to side, eyes lingering on his crooked nose. He sighed as you smoothed your thumb over his massive scar.

“König?” you murmured. The Austrian couldn't help but smile as he gave a short nod.

“Ja,” he replied. Your face softened as your hands slid back to your side.

“I was starting to wonder when I'd get to finally get to see you,” you beamed. He suddenly felt a subtle lump swell in his throat.

“So...what do you think?” König asked, his voice wavering slightly like it used to when he was a young schoolboy. There was a sparkle in your eye as the corners of your mouth turned up even more.

“You're exactly how I pictured you...beautiful," you murmured. König’s cheeks flushed as he smiled, his heart feeling as if it were about to burst.

"Danke," he replied.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

[milfhunter6698]

Under pressure pt2

synopsis: Upon joining the NYC firm as a new associate, you quickly find yourself facing the pressure of working under the firm’s star senior partner, Victoria neuman. With a reputation for excellence and an eye for potential, she was searching for a junior partner who can meet her exacting standards. You, with your impressive credentials and unwavering ambition, seemed like a perfect fit…until the pressure of meeting those high expectations started taking their toll. 

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, angst, teasing, hurt & comfort, power imbalance, slight AU, some similarities to cannon, mentions of the boys characters (Hughie), slight age gap, rival associates, young!reader, older!Victoria, slow-burn. 

notes: So.. what do we think? this is slightly proofread so sorry if there’s any errors, this is kind of a random time to post but like I said posting schedule is gonna be a bit messy, but I’ll make sure I’ll give ya’ll a heads up if I’m gonna take a week off or something like that. Now that you have two chapters only in one week so enjoy! (also so sorry guys If I didn’t respond to some of your comments I don’t know what fuck all had gotten Into my tumblr but thank you some much I love every each single one of you).

chapter 1

wc: 2.8k

It was a new day the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the city. You arrived at the office, your steps heavy with the weight of the previous night’s argument. The excitement and enthusiasm of your new role had faded, replaced by a sense of dread and fatigue. The tall office building loomed above you as you walked in.

You made your way through the bustling lobby, Suddenly, you collide with another person hurrying past. Your coffee cup tipped, spilling its contents all over your suit.

“Great,” You muttered under your breath, watching in dismay as the coffee soaked into your jacket. “The universe must really hate me right now.”

You quickly made your way to the woman’s bathroom, where you used paper towels to scrub the stain from your suit and washed your hands.

With a deep breath you stared at your reflection on the mirror fixing your hair, before heading back to your desk, hoping the day would get better.

As you settled into your cubicle, Victoria approached with a file folder in hand. A warm smile on her face, “Hey, I have a new assignment for you.”

You stood, ready to listen. “What’s the case?”

She placed the folder on the desk. “We’ve just been retained by Garnet Technologies, a major player in the tech industry. They’re being sued for breach of contract and intellectual property theft by a rival company. The stakes are high—they’re seeking damages in the millions, and the allegations could seriously damage Garnet’s reputation.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you opened the folder, scanning the details. “This looks like a complex case.”

“Exactly,” She said. “I need you to handle the initial research and help draft the response strategy. You’ll be working with a guy from our litigation team, who will guide you. This is a chance to prove yourself.”

You nodded, “Understood. I’ll get started right away.”

As the day progressed, you threw yourself into the case. Spending hours poring over documents, emails, and internal memos related to the dispute. The complexities of corporate espionage and the high stakes of the lawsuit were challenging but also invigorating.

During a brief break, you ran into Hughie in the break room. He glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Still working on the Garnet case?”

“Yeah, just getting started,” You replied, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He leaned against the counter. “Good luck. It’s a tough one. Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll need more than just brains to crack this.”

Before you could even say anything, he grabbed his coffee and left, leaving you with a sense of unease. You can’t help but think this guy is a total weirdo..

Later in the afternoon, you met with the senior litigator who would be overseeing your work on the case. He was a seasoned professional with a no-nonsense attitude. You discussed the case’s intricacies, and you took notes diligently, absorbing every detail.

As the day wound down, you stayed late again, determined to make significant progress. The office quieter, with only a few people scattered around. You continued working late into the evening, analyzing data and preparing a draft for the case strategy.

After tedious paperwork you finally escaped the office, the darkness of night swallowing the city. Your footsteps carried you to the subway, and as you stood there, leaning against a pillar wall, the soft green hue from the tunnel lulled you into a daze. 

Your gaze drifted to the ground, only to see a rat holding a soda can with its hands, taking a drink. You shook your head, unsure if it was real or if you were just hallucinating from the exhaustion.

In need of a distraction, you pulled out your phone, your thumb lingering on the name you hesitated before dialing. You brought the phone to your ear as the voicemail played, and you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper, "Hey, I'm really sorry about everything. Can we please talk? I missed you."

A frustrated huff escaped your lips as you slipped the phone back into your pocket, before stepping onto the train ready to head back home.

A loud thud interrupted your concentration. You looked up to see Victoria standing by your desk, a thick file dropped onto the surface with a decisive motion.

“How’s the progress on the Garnet case?” She asked, her tone brisk but not unkind.

You glanced at the file, feeling the pressure of her question. “I’m making headway. I’ve been analyzing the documents and working on the draft for the response strategy.”

She nodded, her gaze assessing. “Good. I expect a preliminary report by the end of the day. We have a meeting with Garnet’s CEO tomorrow, and I need to be prepared.”

Before you could respond, Victoria turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you with a stack of paperwork.

You stared at the file, feeling the weight of both the task at hand and the lingering personal issues from the other night. With a sigh, you rolled up your sleeves and began to work, trying to push aside your personal frustrations and actually focus on the demands of your job.

The Garnet case had been hanging over the firm’s head for weeks. For you, it was an overwhelming task, but with Victoria’s guidance, she had managed to stay afloat, delivering on the expectations she set.

The conference room was tense as they sat with Garnet’s legal team, the final negotiations reaching their climax. Victoria, ever composed, led the charge, while you sat beside her, following every word. When the final settlement was agreed upon, and the opposing counsel conceded, there was a collective sigh of relief from their side of the table.

As you two left the building and made your way back to the firm, Victoria turned to you, a rare smile on her lips.

“You did good today. We couldn’t have pulled that off without your work on the documentation.”

You felt a surge of pride. “Thanks, I’ve actually learned a lot from watching you.”

Victoria gave a small laugh. “Let’s hope you’ve been learning the right things.” she paused, then glanced at her watch. “What do you say we grab a drink? Celebrate a little.”

You hesitated, the exhaustion from the past few days catching up with you. But then again, it was Victoria, and this was a rare invitation. 

“Sure,” you nodded, feeling both excitement and nervousness bubble up.

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting across from Victoria at a fancy bar just around the corner from the office. It was dimly lit the atmosphere was warm and relaxed, a far cry from the intense formality of the firm.

“Here’s to kicking those bastards’ asses and walking away with another win,” she said, her voice playful but still sharp.

You clinked your glass against hers. “And to not getting fired,” you joked.

She smirked. “Not yet, at least.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

You both laughed, the tension of the day easing away with every sip. After a few drinks, You started to loosen up, the pressure of your first major case behind you. As the conversation flowed, you found yourself speaking more freely than you had intended.

“So, how are you settling in? Surviving the chaos?” Victoria asked, leaning in her seat, her eyes watching you with mild curiosity.

You shrugged, swirling the ice in your glass. “Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it. Still trying to balance everything, though. The job… and other things.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Other things?”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share more. “Yeah, well like my girlfriend and I… it’s been tough with all the hours I’m putting in here.”

Victoria’s expression shifted slightly, and you saw it a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Girlfriend, huh? You didn’t mention her before.”

You gave a small, awkward laugh. “Yeah, well, things have been… complicated. She’s not exactly thrilled with the late nights and the job taking over my life.”

She leaned in a little, her tone softening. “That’s a tough balance. This job—it doesn’t make things easy on relationships. Not everyone can handle it.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle in. “Yeah… it’s been hard to find the right balance.”

Your eyes met across the table. For a brief moment, neither of you said a word. There was an unspoken tension, a subtle spark that neither acknowledged, but both felt.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting. “I guess I need to figure out what’s more important… this job or—”

“Or her?” Victoria finished the sentence for you, her tone gentle but probing.

You chuckled nervously. “Yeah. Something like that.”

There was a pause, the kind of silence that invites temptation. Victoria’s gaze lingered on you a second longer than it should have. She leaned back, breaking the moment, but the air between you felt charged, as though something unsaid had passed between you.

“I should probably call it a night,” You said, sensing the shift but not wanting to take it any further. You wasn’t about to jeopardize everything you had worked for—not on your first few months at the firm.

Victoria gave a small, knowing smile. “You’re smart, You know where your priorities lie.” She finished her drink and stood up, gathering her things. “See you tomorrow. And don’t worry about the rest of the case—I’ve got it under control.”

Weeks blended together and you returned to work, the hum of the office and the endless paperwork becoming your new normal. You and your girlfriend had worked things out—sort of. But you both agreed to take it slow, trying to deal with the tension between your job and your relationship. Still, the strain lingered in the back of your mind.

One morning, as you were reviewing a case, your thoughts were interrupted by Victoria’s voice from across the room.

“Do you have a minute?”

Startled, you looked up to see her standing by her office door, gesturing for you to join her. You quickly gathered your things and followed her in. She closed the door behind you, motioning for you to take a seat.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her tone business-like but with a hint of something more personal. “We have a major charity event coming up. The firm’s sponsors are throwing a gala next week, and I think you should attend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A gala? You mean one of those black-tie events?”

She nodded. “Exactly. It’s a big deal for this firm. We’ve got some key clients attending, and I think it would be a good opportunity for you to network. I could introduce you to some people.”

You hesitated. You weren’t really the one for flashy events, but the opportunity to meet high-profile clients could be valuable. “Are you sure I’m the right person for that? I mean, I’m still new.”

Victoria smiled, her tone softening. “You’ve already proven yourself. And besides, you’ve handled bigger things this past month—this will be easy in comparison.”

She leaned forward, her eyes catching yours. “You’ll be fine. Just think of it as another case to handle. And… you won’t be going alone. I’ll be there.”

In a flurry of movement, you stood in front of your closet, rummaging through your clothes. They flew in the air as you tossed them around, desperate to find something suitable. Your eyes met your reflection in the mirror as you slipped on a dress. You twirled, checking the fit, only to immediately change it.

Minutes ticked by as you searched for the perfect outfit. Eventually, you settled for a more casual look a black sleeveless halter waistcoat, V-neck, and front buttons. You added the final touches, an earring to complete the look, when your phone chimed on your bed.

A message from your girlfriend popped up

‘Hey, wanna come over tonight?’ 

Guilt washed over you, and you chewed on your lip. As much as you wanted to you knew you couldn't. ‘Sorry, can't. Got an event to attend. But I promise, I'll make it up to you. Wish me luck, xx.’

 

You stepped out of a sleek black car, the cool evening air brushing against your exposed skin as you gazed up at the grand hotel hosting the gala. This was the kind of event you’d only heard about—the kind where power and influence mingled effortlessly over champagne and whispered deals. 

Beside you, Victoria stepped out, her presence commanding attention clad in a gown that exuded elegance and authority, it shimmered like moonlight under the hotel's bright lights. 

The dress rode low, leaving her back exposed as it hugged her perfectly. She was absolutely breathtaking Your eyes were drawn to the elegant necklace, its chain draping over the nape of her neck, trailing down her spine. You swallowed hard, adjusting your suit.

You had a girlfriend, and you knew you shouldn't be caught in this web of temptation, but oh god Victoria made it so damn hard to look away. Pushing those thoughts aside, you brushed off any lingering feelings and followed her into the hotel.

“Ready?” she asked, casting you a glance as you both walked toward the entrance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you muttered, regaining composure. You felt the slight pressure in your chest, but you hid it behind a smile. This wasn’t just another networking event—this was about showing you belonged.

Inside, the ballroom was glittering with chandeliers, the sound of soft jazz filling the air. Victoria wasted no time, immediately drawing you into the circle of high-profile clients and business moguls, introducing you as if you’d been at the firm for years.

She introduced you to a silver-haired man in a tailored suit. “One of our rising stars. She’s been handling some important cases, including our recent win with Garnet.”

The man raised an impressed eyebrow. “Garnet? That’s no small feat. Impressive.”

You gave a polite smile, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, all while trying to ignore the subtle charge in the air whenever Victoria brushed against you. A hand lightly on your shoulder as she guided you through the room. A fleeting look that lingered a second too long. Each interaction felt like a game you weren’t consciously playing, but one that neither of you could really stop.

As you moved from one circle of clients to another, You caught snippets of Victoria’s past—her long history with the firm, how she’d risen to prominence by closing massive deals, and her reputation for being a force to be reckoned with. She carried herself with poise, yet there was something about the way she interacted with you tonight—more relaxed, almost playful.

At one point, while you were speaking to another client, she leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re doing great,” she whispered, sending a spark through you as goosebumps danced across your skin.

You managed to nod, swallowing back the sudden rush of nerves. “Thanks.”

After an hour of mingling, you found yourselves near the bar. You sipped your drink, trying to steady yourself from the undercurrent of tension between you two. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you felt it—something is different tonight.

Victoria leaned against the bar, her eyes scanning the room. “You’re a natural at this, you know.”

“I’m just following your lead,” You replied, feeling the need to keep the conversation professional, though the weight of the evening pressed down on you.

She smiled, but there was something in her gaze that softened. “You’re too modest. You’ve been holding your own.”

Before you could respond, a man approached—someone new, someone you hadn’t yet met. His dark eyes flicked between Victoria and you, and the atmosphere shifted. He had the look of someone important, someone who carried a different kind of power.

“Victoria,” the man said smoothly, a knowing smile on his face. “It’s been a while.”

“Michael,” She replied, her voice cool but polite. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The man glanced at you, sizing you up before turning back to Victoria. “And who’s this?”

She said your name, her tone firm. “She’s one of our top associates.”

You extended your hand, but Michael didn’t seem particularly interested. Okay asshole? you raised an eyebrow. He Instead, kept his focus on Victoria, his smile growing wider. 

“Well, good luck with that. But if you ever want to step away… you know where to find me.”

There was a subtle edge to his words, and for a moment, you could sense the tension between them. This man, Michael, wasn’t just a client or rival—he was someone from Victoria’s past, and his offer was more than professional.

Victoria’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes hardened. “I’m right where I need to be, Michael.”

The conversation ended with a curt nod, and He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Victoria standing by the bar.

“What was that about?” you asked, curious about the strange tension.

She sighed, her gaze distant for a moment. “Old rivalries. Michael’s been trying to poach me for years, but he’s not my concern. We have more important things to focus on.” She turned to face you, her smile returning. “Like how you’re going to handle this deposition tomorrow.”

The shift back to business was sudden, but the undercurrent between you remained. You finished your drinks, the night carrying on, but as you left the event, You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. Not just in the way you saw Victoria, but in how she viewed you, It stirred something within you it was intriguing yet so.. 

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?" 

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart. 

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment." 

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..." 

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply. 

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT." 

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game." 

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats." 

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'" 

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.  

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎" 

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?" 

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening. 

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body. 

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.  

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university." 

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words." 

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly. 

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me." 

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.  

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.  

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?" 

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.  

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl. 

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity." 

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking." 

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out." 

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again." 

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner." 

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like." 

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?" 

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?" 

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes." 

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay." 

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.  

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting." 

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.  

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.  

"You are��not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.  

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper.   "What are you doing." 

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after." 

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back." 

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good." 

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.  

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"  

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.  

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single." 

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.  

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier." 

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well. 

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.  

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.  

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.  

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it." 

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same." 

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.  

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her. 

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be." 

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that." 

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise." 

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.  

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point." 

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk. 

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft. 

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.  

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all." 

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.  

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."  

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?" 

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.  

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.  

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off." 

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years. 

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.  

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives." 

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.  

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised. 

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."  

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.  

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point." 

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that." 

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.  

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too." 

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk. 

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her." 

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them." 

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look. 

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough." 

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.  

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't. 

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile. 

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her. 

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.  

"I'm glad to hear that." 

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.  

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much." 

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too." 

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together." 

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again. 

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her. 

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore." 

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you. 

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.  

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too." 

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."  

A/N: Part Four is available here.

[lighthouseshepard]

felt inspired by this insanely gorgeous piece of art that i cant get out of my head by @mikonez and my hand slipped (posting it here with their permission! ❤️)

"John?" Arthur murmurs, cracking one eye slowly open. "Is that you?"

Among the haze of his vision, a blend of shifting shadows and points of flickering light like radio static made tangible, he barely makes out the figure standing at the edge of the bed. If he had half a mind more than what he currently possessed, the sight might have set his nerves on edge. As it stood, fighting against the dredges of sleep which sought to keep him under, the familiar silhouette was nothing but a cause for another kind of concern.

"John?" he asks a second time. With a mumbled groan he picks his head up off the pillow, straining to see. "Are you alright?"

The figure shifts. John steps up to the side of the bed, walking through the wide beam of moonlight piercing soft and silver through the windowpane. In its gentle illumination the long, silken strands of black hair falling across his shoulders and down his back seemed to hold a faint glow.

"Hi, Arthur," he says quietly, uncharacteristically subdued. "Did I wake you?"

Even after a week of hearing that voice aloud he couldn't get used to it. The distinct and velvety rumble of John's words was stronger outside of his own head. Kinder somehow, too. Though they no longer carried the undercurrent of an echo, something of the god remained when he spoke.

"Hmm? No, no, you didn't." Arthur holds back a yawn. "I think I was dreaming."

"Oh?" 

John drifts closer. The pajama pants and shirt they'd bought for him fit loosely on his new frame, creating the image of a man slouching uncertainly. Arthur couldn't tell if he truly was hunched or not, all six feet and more of him trying to appear as small as possible.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Honestly? I don't remember. A field of flowers, maybe. Something golden." Lifting his head further, he squints. "John, are you okay?"

Expressions on his face were surprisingly easy to read. Before they separated John theorized that he'd need to learn how to show emotion, that it wouldn't come naturally after getting his own body. His worry eventually fizzled into frustration when the opposite became true - every feeling, every fleeting thought, any inkling of desire was visible on his face from day one. He couldn't hide anything no matter how hard he tried. A lack of poker face, Arthur told him, but he failed to see how a card game came into play.

"I'm fine." He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

"Again?" At this Arthur props himself up on one elbow, both eyes focusing fully. "This is the third night you’ve woken up. You're not too cold, are you?"

"I don't... think so?" John replies, frowning. "I don't feel cold, anyway. If anything I'm itchy."

A flash of amusement shines in Arthur's tired smile. "I imagine clothes are going to take some getting used to, yes."

"That’s an understatement," John grumbles. He picks absently at the hem of his shirt. "I don't see why these are necessary."

"Because it's freezing outside and in, and you'll likely catch a cold without them. Plus-"

He waves him off. "I know. Societal conventions. Whatever. You're not wearing a shirt, I might add," he points out stubbornly.

"That's because I'm never cold."

"Do you even have a blanket?"

Arthur gazes up at him pointedly. "John, what's on your mind?"

Rubbing one arm with his hand, he glances down at his bare feet. Ten new fingers, ten toes. Entirely too many to deal with on top of everything else. "Like I said. I couldn't sleep."

"Right," Arthur says empathetically. His smile begins to dwindle, lips pulling downward. "I can't imagine it's an easy task, John. You are learning how to for the first time, essentially."

"Yeah, well," he huffs. "Instead of getting easier it's slipping further away from me."

"Are you still having those dreams?"

"I wouldn't call them dreams, Arthur." More along the lines of nightmares.”

"Right," Arthur repeats, mumbling. "No, of course not."

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, studying what he could of John in the moonlight. Although his sight had yet to return fully, the slow progress was enough of a lifeline to keep him at ease, for now. Neither could have predicted how the ritual would turn out, and for them to both emerge alive, first and foremost, was an odd little cosmic blessing in itself.

After a week John was still adjusting. Arthur didn't blame him in the slightest, but the empathy he felt for his situation wasn't always well received. John, so far at least, tended to misconstrue it as pity regardless of how many assurances he was given. 

As Arthur gazes up at him, he notes two things: among the frustration worrying a crease into his brow, another more poignant emotion lingered underneath, so far removed from what shape he knew longing to take that it swung all the way back around into desperation; and John, arms now crossed along his torso, was shivering.

"John, you're - come here," Arthur says without a second thought. "Take my blanket, take something. Where's yours?"

"In the other room." Hesitantly he sits on the edge of the bed. A body still so weak from all it had endured made for difficult navigation. Muscles and limbs he was figuring out how to control never seemed to want to bend easily to his will.

"Why didn't you bring it with you? You’re clearly freezing."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to be near you."

"Oh."

In the silver tinted darkness, he reaches out a hand. At the touch on his arm John startles, glancing down. He doesn’t pull away.

"Listen, John," Arthur says quietly, "why don't you just stay here tonight?"

"What?"

"Stay here with me. There's plenty of room. You're tall, yes, but you aren't going to fall off the end. It might... help, that's all. And-"

He swallows. "Truthfully, I miss you over there."

The offer doesn't sit so much as float between them, a gauzy, gentle thing. John studies Arthur's face, all his various scars, the hint of gold in his gaze now subtler for his absence. How peculiar for those features he knew better than the ones he had now to be reversed, no longer viewed from behind a mirror’s reflection.

"Okay," he says simply.

John leans forward, stretching out over him. Wide eyes follow his movements, lips parted slightly in a question Arthur couldn't quite get out, but he doesn't dare move. Long legs straddle just below his waist, forcing his head back down onto the pillow. Sections of silken hair slip forward off John's shoulders as he comes into view, hovering over Arthur with a kind of familiarity and trust that leaves them both a little breathless. One hand cradles his cheek, and Arthur feels his own slip unthinkingly beneath the fabric of John's shirt to splay steadily along the warmth of his stomach.

"Hey," Arthur whispers, smiling. "When I said stay here, I didn't mean on top of me."

"You didn't tell me not to, though," John hums. A thumb brushes across Arthur's jaw. "You're warm."

"And suffocating.” 

“Mm. Do you want me to move?’

 Breath not his own whispers against his mouth. Their faces were only inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss him now, he thinks, repeat the way they’d all but crashed against each other upon coming out from that ritual weak and coughing but alive, not thinking anything save for the gratitude they couldn't figure out how else to express.

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, too focused on the everything which came after. Arthur wonders if he would taste any differently fresh out of a bad dream, settled somewhat into new limbs. He stares up in abstract wonder, hoping one day soon he would be able to see the person above him with enough clarity to fully appreciate what hard won circumstance gave them both. 

“Arthur?” John asks. His voice drops to a low rumble, expression searching and hopeful. Though he looked just as exhausted as Arthur felt, a quiet fire was beginning to brim behind his eyes.

“What?” he stutters out. “Sorry, John.”

“I asked if you wanted me to move.” That caressing hand drifts upwards, brushing through auburn hair mussed from sleep. “Is this okay? I don't want to go back to the other room.”

“No, John, it's - no, wait, don't go!” He grips John’s hip with a force that startles them both when he begins to pull away. “I meant no, you don't have to go back. You can stay here. It's okay,” he adds, pulse a flutter caught in his throat. “It's alright.” 

John exhales in relief. “Thanks. I, um… I fucking hate it, Arthur,” he admits softly. “Not having you next to me, I mean. It doesn't feel right, sleeping alone. Not that sleeping overall feels right, but…”

“Yeah, John,” Arthur sighs, “it doesn't feel the same to me, either.”

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you kiss me again?” 

“I - what?”

A body starved for connection from the first moment of its tangible conception lays out along him, chest flush to his own scarred torso. Parts of John felt only in passing were suddenly closer than they ever had been previously: knees on either side of his thighs, a waist he grasped with both hands, arms and elbows and a brief glimpse of collarbone from beneath the shirt slipping off one shoulder. All the indelicate human pieces which comprised someone distinctly inhuman pressed against him, imbued with a fervency reminiscent of an ocean trying to return to the droplet from where it first originated - and it aches.

Arthur answers his question.

It’s nothing like the first, yet still an inkling of similar desperation colors the way their lips meet. They don’t collide so much as come together solidly in the middle, both tilting their heads forward to close the few inches that remained. John’s mouth is warm and firm, his hesitation lasting for only a second, and Arthur kisses him with as much conviction as he can muster without losing himself in the process. His arms move from John’s hips to wrap around his back, pulling him closer still. When they part by necessity for breath alone, each gasping quietly into the dim, Arthur struggles to speak.

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “You can stay, John. I don’t - I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else from now on.”

John grins down at him. “Good,” he says, and leans in anew. 

[r3linx]

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

╰┈➤ characters... •`HAYATO SUO´•.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ SYNOPSIS... silly smoker yn thinking she could get away with that nasty habit but suo catches her and yeah... lectures her?? ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ WORDCOUNT...0,9k ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ WARNINGS...: tw! smoker yn, suo quite literally licked your hand, sfw, fluff, comforting, slight angst [if u squint enough trust me you'll see it], nonbinary reader ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ OTHER... reblogs, likes and requests are appreciated!

a/n: like i said. yeah. sorry i let my inner demons decide what i write and i really needed to do this cuz i want to quit smoking so bad and i need smth to give me reassurance >-< (also i didn't read the whole in the end, just finished it cuz i had a rough day and im lazy for that so im just posting it,sorry if there's any errors in it or sounds dumb sometimes)

birds chirping. everything quieted down around you, almost as if the world stopped spinning. the cold breeze brushed against your skin, leaving goosebumps scatter all over your arm. the sun almost disappeared on the horizon, making the sky glow with orange, yellow and different but incredibly warm and beautiful shades of pink.

knees pulled up to your chest, all alone in the whole school you sat outside on the cold, gray concrete stairs, ragged by time and weather. here and there weeds peeking out through the cracks which was already stomped on by others till it was barely visible.

‘finally.. some alone time, all I could wish for..’ no one to listen to, no one to talk to, no one to match their standards. just you and your own train of thoughts.

holding the roll of tobacco in-between your pointer and middle fingers, raising up it to your dry lips and taking a long, final puff. the cigarette slightly warming up the end of your fingers by its light but also leaving a nasty essence behind. then tossing it aside, nothing left in it as you watched the smoke still pouring out from it between the strands of thick grass.

you pressed out a long exhale from your lungs, this time letting your eyes flutter close and just for a quick moment trying to forget everything. your ears ringed louder and louder by each second, feeling like passing out then and there—

“hey.” you snapped you eyes open at the sudden voice. gentle, yet carrying a lot of depth in his tone. without a question or remark, the person simply just taking a seat next to you. ‘great..’ you huffed, following his movements with your eyes till he comfortable positioned himself beside you, now being on eye level with you. you said nothing. he remained silent.

“are you just gonna sit there?” you spit out, irritation filling up your blood to which the individual took a simple glance down to you lap, where your hand was resting.

“may i?” questioning, you couldn’t find the usual warmness in his words this time, instead replaced by bitterness. again, just before a reply could be formed, ghosting his hands over yours, placing it on his with care, bringing it up to his mouth. the one you held the cigarette with.

soft, lips. softer than yours at the moment. grazed the top of your hand, your knuckles, the end of your fingers -eyes widened, you watched him.. and so did he. not with a smile. his eyebrows lowered. his gaze abused your soul, piercing it through from the inside.- still, carefully but with stone hard determination, pressing a kiss to your hand. and another. the third, with somewhat open mouth. hot tongue joining his lips on your skin, just for a quick moment, taking in the taste of your skin. then lets your limb down, releasing from his grasp.

suo eyed your features with interest. taking note of your shocked state and crimson red color dancing across your cheeks, reaching up to your ears. his gaze still heavy on you, he tucked an unruly lock behind you reddened ear.

“just needed confirmation.” no explanation, no apologies. he wouldn’t apologize for a kiss on your hand, why would he?

“confirmation of?”

“of you still damaging your body.” he replied, patience running thin. he wasn’t born today to know and realize, seeing through all your lies and poker faces like it was thin paper, held up in front of the bright sun. “no need to for the poor acting of yours. ever since I first saw that between your fingers, you kept me on my toes.” you were aware of what he told you about smoking, it played on repeat all the time you lit the cigarette. but it was one time, no harm, right? or you thought. you weren’t aware of the fact how he knew your promise was a lie. the promise to quit it. the rumors echoed into his ear, you sitting here every single day after school, alone in your peace. alone, until this day.

looking everywhere but him, one of your legs started tapping on the ground, searching for a new and believable lie. your leg still shaking, he took your chin in his hand, forcing your eyes on him. his strong grip made you wince in discomfort, fear setting in as his face contorted into anger even more by now.

“your body isn’t fixated on it. you can change. but you don’t want to.”

“it’s not-”

“it is true! it is, goddamn!..” crows screeched as they flew up from the ground, high in the colorful sky as suo's voice ringed louder this time.

the sudden change made you flinch, now averting his gaze even if for yourself to make it less awkward.

“why can’t you try and rely on me?” the question shocked you to the core, how could he even- “let it be me what you’re fixated on.. be addicted to me..” the more he said, the more quiet he became at the end, you could almost see his usual put together behavior and expression crumbling away into nothing. instead, he too felt the atmosphere between the two of you change into a more deep and sensual one.

taken aback, you sat there in silence staring with a dumb expression, suo couldn't help but let a smile pass by his lips, now his arms snaking around your side, head resting on your soft shoulders. you let the sensation of his closeness consume you, relaxing yourself into his embrace.

"have faith in me.." with a final murmur suo found a warm place to rest his head in the crook of your neck.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵖʸ, ᵐᵒᵈⁱᶠʸ ᵒʳ ᵘᵖˡᵒᵃᵈ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ!

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles. 

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies. 

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts. 

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways. 

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine. 

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body. 

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more. 

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend. 

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options. 

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag. 

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks. 

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale. 

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest. 

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request. 

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage. 

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts. 

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come. 

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside. 

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does. 

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.” 

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear. 

“Those, too,” Joel says. 

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room. 

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you. 

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you. 

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly. 

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught. 

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?” 

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him. 

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours. 

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts. 

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice. 

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place. 

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist

[sethsclearwater]

I was scrolling through the Seth master list and noticed that there’s nothing about Seth being a father and taking care of a child ( like one that is not with Paul). So I was wondering how Seth would deal with taking care of reader and baby because she is healing and might need some help sometimes.

-✨

y'all i am SO SORRY i haven't been posting!! really trying to get back to regular posting but i promise i'm not ditching y'all lol

...

you let out a heavy sigh as you sat down on the couch, unable to contain the wince that left your lips as you were reminded that you'd quite literally given birth less than a week prior.

seth and his unusually heightened hearing didn't miss the sound, peeking his head around the corner of the kitchen to see what was up, "everything okay?" he asked, eyes softening as he watched you let out another heavy exhale before nodding.

"i'll be over in a minute - just gonna put her down real quick okay?" he asked, referencing your newborn baby who seemed to always be wrapped up on her dad's chest.

seth was pretty insistent on skin to skin, never ceasing to let up on how important it was for bonding with your newborn daughter. so it wasn't unusual to see him with your baby all swaddled up on his chest while he went about his day helping clean up the house.

you hummed, cracking a smile when you heard your daughter let out a soft whine in her sleep, "you can bring her over here you know," you teased, giggling when seth rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he stepped over to you.

"hi baby," you whispered as seth sat down next to you, smiling when seth helped her out of the baby wearing wrap so you could hold her for a bit, "i missed you," you mused, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

seth wrapped his arm around your figure, helping you curl into his side so you could both admire the newborn in your arms, "i think we've got one of the best looking babies out there," he teased and you giggled, rolling your eyes.

seth was nothing if not insistent that you had done the world's best job of making your baby, constantly reminding you how good of a job you were doing even when you felt like the opposite.

"she is pretty," you agreed, peeking up at him only to see him watching you adoringly, "seth," you started when you saw the way he was watching you, both of you laughing.

"mrs. clearwater," he replied, the name leading you to playfully roll your eyes again at his antics.

you paused before continuing, "i love you," you murmured, deciding against teasing him some more when you realized just how infatuated he still was with you.

despite your insurmountable insecurities about having a baby and how you'd look after giving birth, seth never once seemed to see you as anything other than gorgeous.

he didn't miss a beat before he was responding to you, "i love you too," he reassured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, "so much," he added after a moment, pulling his lips from yours so he could rest his forehead against your own.

you could hardly contain the smile on your face, only breaking your moment when you heard a familiar cooing from your baby as she woke herself up.

"oh hi sweetpea," seth whispered when he saw her brown eyes looking up at his. despite her having most of your features, she did end up with her dad's eyes - something you and seth couldn't seem to get enough of.

you smiled at seth's nickname for your daughter, resting your head against his shoulder as she reached her tiny little fingers up until she was able to wrap her hand around seth's ring finger.

"hi sweet girl," you whispered, letting out a happy sigh of content when she reached her other hand out to grab your finger as well, clearly loving having both of her parents so close to her.