#(not as much anymore but i was like. terrified when i was younger. n that's part of why i still hate showers-)

[ophelieverse]

please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭

➳♡before fire takes it all

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.

-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.

-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷

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It hurts.

Love,Aegon thinks.

Love hurts.

His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.

Loving too much is fatal.Or not?

Isn't that so?

Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?

“I don't know���,his conscience responds.

Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.

How can he live?How?

How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?

Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.

But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.

Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.

His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.

«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.

His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.

Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.

As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.

«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.

Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.

Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.

His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.

A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?

«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.

It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.

Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.

With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.

Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.

He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.

Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.

Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?

He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.

Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.

The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.

Aegon was blocked.

He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.

He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.

Not even him,especially him.

Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.

«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.

Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.

She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.

Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.

A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.

Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.

Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.

Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.

Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.

«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.

«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.

«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.

Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.

But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.

He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.

Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.

He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.

“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.

It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.

Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.

Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.

So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.

It will never be like this.

«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.

Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.

Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.

Y/n doesn't tremble.

He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.

Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.

Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.

At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.

So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?

Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.

«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.

«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.

Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.

«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.

It’s not what happened,but what could happen.

Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.

Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.

«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.

Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.

«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.

Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.

His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.

«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.

Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.

The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.

He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.

Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.

Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.

And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.

«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.

She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.

«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.

His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.

«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.

Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.

«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.

He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.

She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.

It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.

Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.

The time of a whole life that slips away.

«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.

He just took,he just wanted.

Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.

He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.

What a stupid mistake.

«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.

No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.

It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.

He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.

This was his life once,before her.

Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.

The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.

Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?

Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.

Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.

Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.

He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.

This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?

«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.

Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.

The bravest Lady he had ever met.

«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.

Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.

She loves him.

And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.

Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.

Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.

Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.

And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.

And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.

Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.

They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.

Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?

He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.

«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.

«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.

Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.

«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.

All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.

«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.

Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.

Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.

«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.

And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.

[ashwhowrites]

Hiiii, Can you do a Steve Harrington x reader? About how they used to be best friends since they were kids then high school came around so did king Steve. Anyways, the reader confesses her feelings for him but before he can reply, his friends laugh and make fun of her. The reader stops being friends with him because he never defended her. But now, Steve has changed and wants to make things right and finally be with the girls he has always loved.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

High school mistake

Y/N never thought she would see the day her best friend Steve outgrew her. He was always shy and quiet, and they never left each other's side. They grew up together and now they were in high school and Y/N was struggling with the change.

Steve became popular once he joined the basketball team. Y/N remembered how excited she was when he made it, but now she wished he never tried out. It was selfish of her, but she missed her best friend.

The other issue was she was in love with Steve, pathetically and helplessly in love. She was always too scared to say anything but she didn't have to worry about much since no one looked their way. But now that he was popular, girls began looking his way.

Y/N was jealous and didn't know how to handle it. She figured she might as well try to go for it because it wouldn't be long until a girl beat her to it. So on a random day at school, she walked up to Steve.

She was terrified but losing him scared her even more.

She wished she could say it went well and they have been together since, but that would be a lie. She could never forget the look on his face as the words left her lips. He looked shocked, his eyes wide and mouth open. She confessed she was in love with him and he stood frozen. Before he could reject or confess, his friends around the halls laughed. They laughed as hard as they could as they ran up to them.

Steve never stood up for her, in the moment and after the moment.

It's been two years and she hasn't talked to him since. She was hurt and felt betrayed. The least he could have done was apologize after the fact and tell his friends to quit being assholes. But he never did.

Now, of course, people say he has changed. He now wasn't friends with anyone from high school. Apparently, he hung out with one girl, and the rest were younger children. It was a bit odd but it wasn't her place to care anymore. She hadn't seen him in months but figured she'd have to face him one day.

That day arrived faster than she wished. She was out at the mall when she saw his hair over the racks. She felt herself stop breathing and ducked down. She looked around the store, wondering if she could sneak by before he sa-

"Y/N?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard his voice. She slowly stood up and opened her eyes.

"Steve," she greeted him with a small smile.

"I haven't seen you in forever, how are you?" He asked, a big smile on his face like everything was cool. She froze when he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled back when she didn't move.

"I'm good. How are you?" She asked, trying her best to be polite.

"Good! Not much to complain about. I'm taking Dustin suit shopping so I better get back. But maybe we could get coffee or something? Catch up?" He asked, his hands in his pockets as he turned his head.

She forgot how pretty his brown eyes were. Years later he still made her heart race.

"We really don't have to do that, Steve." She sighed and he frowned at her response

"I want to" he fought

"I don't," she snapped, she took a deep breath to calm herself. "See you, Harrington."

Steve watched hurt as she turned around and left. Dustin was yelling his name but he couldn't move until her body vanished from his vision.

~~~

The run-in happened a week ago and Steve was still thinking about it. He hoped there wouldn't be hard feelings after all these years, but he was clearly wrong. He did want to talk to her, get the chance to apologize, and maybe fix things again.

He never forgot about her and missed her. He missed having his best friend and he knew it was his fault she left. He could have fixed it many times and he never did. But this time he was going to.

He showed up at her house or hoped she still lived there. He was right when she opened the door.

It took a lot of convincing but he made it inside, sitting on the familiar couch he slept on during sleepovers. He remembered how he wanted to sneak into her room and wrap his arms around her body. The countless times he fell asleep thinking about kissing her.

"What do you want?" She asked, already tired from the mess. Ever since she saw him it was like she started all over.

"I want to apologize for the shit I did in high school," he said but she just scoffed.

"Many years late for it to matter, or fix anything. Is that all?"

"Can you give me some mercy please?" He pleaded, his stupid eyes begging

"Why? You never gave me any" she shrugged, looking down at her hands as she played with the pillow on her lap.

"I know and I do mean it when I say I'm sorry," Steve said, softly touching her hand to make her look up. She froze but looked into his eyes.

"You gave me many chances to fix it and fix us. I was stupid and never did. I know I don't deserve to be here right now, and it's fair for you to hate my guts. But I miss you."

"I miss you too but I don't know. I lost my only friend and I suffered. You have to be popular and live life. Now you come back because it's all done? That makes me feel like shit." She explained

Steve listened to every word, moving closer as he moved the pillow off her lap. Now he held both her hands as his body leaned closer.

"Hit me, scream at me. Do whatever you need to do, I don't care. But after can we please start over? I never forgot what you said."

"Please don't bring that up," she mumbled embarrassed as she yanked her hands away. She stood up to give herself space from him.

"No, I will because we never talked about it," he fought as he stood up

"And who's fault was that?" She scoffed as she crossed her arms. "I get over it, so let's move on."

"I didn't though," he whispered

"What are you saying? It's been years, Steve. Do you think I still am completely in love with you after you rejected me?" She rolled her eyes, praying the front she put up was enough to fool him.

"Kiss me," he said, now standing right in front of her

"What?"

"Kiss me and if you don't feel anything, and you know there's no love in your heart anymore. Tell me that while you look in my eyes and I'll leave you alone." He explained, his voice getting lower and deeper as he moved closer. His face was inches away from hers as she tried to control her breathing.

She wasn't sure if she could lie to his face but what did she have to lose?

"Fine," she said, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. She planned to do a soft peck but then his hand landed on the back of her head. He made the kiss way more passionate and she fell into the trap. She clung to his shoulders as she kissed him harder.

It was as perfect as she always thought it would be. His lips were soft, warm, and in control. It took her breath away and made her head fuzzy. It was like everything melted and she was a puddle in his hands.

She gasped as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. And then he pulled away. She fought with everything in her not to chase his lips.

She blinked a few times as she looked into his eyes, trying to regain her thoughts.

She had the words on her tongue, ready to tell him he lost his chance and she could live with that. But he was finally doing what she dreamed about. He was fighting for her, and he planned to leave if she said the word. If she said it, he'd move on and fall in love with another girl. What would she win? Pride? But at the cost of a broken heart and never loving him for the sake of herself.

Maybe it wasn't what he deserved but what she deserved. And fuck it, she deserved to have her heart fixed.

"I love you," she whispered

She could see his eyes light up and the shy smile on his face.

"God, I love you too," he whispered, closing the space between them.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Always A Bridesmaid | Jake Seresin x Reader

18+ only, minors DNI!

Jake Seresin x female Bradshaw!reader

read part two here

Synopsis: Bradley tells all the guys at his wedding that his little sister is off limits… But when has Jake ever listened to Rooster?

WC: 10.5k (she’s a long one folks)

Warnings: a teeny bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, drinking, smut, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected pinv, slight overstimulation, age gap (not really specified but reader is around 23-24 yrs old, jake is in his early 30s), jake being too damn charming for his own good, rooster being a very overprotective big brother, jake being a menace, and natasha being the best sister-in-law, for the sake of this story we’re gonna pretend that Goose died a few years later than what is canon to explain how Bradley has a sister that’s 10+ years younger than him lol

a/n: it’s been like two months since I initially started writing this, so I’m so happy to finally get it out! (:

⋆ . ˚ ✩ comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ⋆ . ˚ ✩

*

Today was a big day, and you wish you could say you were more excited about it. It’s not every day that your big brother gets married to the love of his life. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and Natasha “Phoenix” Trace had finally said “I do” and you were ecstatic for your favorite female pilot to officially become a part of the family. 

But you were also recently single, having been broken up with by the boyfriend you’d been with throughout most of college and the following two years since you’d graduated.

Things hadn’t ended on bad terms, the two of you just weren’t in love anymore. What worked in college just wasn’t working anymore, and you’d spent the last few months of your relationship denying to yourself the fact that you were unhappy. 

You’re pretty sure now that the both of you had known for a while you weren’t right for each other, but you had been scared to end it–terrified at the notion of starting over. But, the relationship had run its course and, ultimately, he was the one to end things. 

That was three weeks ago. You’d come to terms with the break-up, knowing it was what’s best for you. But that didn’t mean it still didn't hurt. It didn’t mean you weren’t sad, or that you were ready to be subjected to all the happiness and celebration that goes into a wedding.

You’re granted a brief reprieve from your melancholy thoughts when your new sister-in-law sneaks up and taps you on the shoulder. “Hey… You don’t look like you’re having much fun. Are you okay?” 

Natasha asks the question with a sheepish grin. You can tell she’s trying to seem nonchalant, but you can hear the underlying concern in her voice. 

Bradley and Natasha had been together five years now, engaged for one, and you could clearly see from the way that he smiled at her and the permanent glimmer in his eyes, that your brother was truly happy. He and Phoenix had become fast friends during their time together at Top Gun, and it eventually evolved into something more.

When Bradley brought Natasha home to meet you at Thanksgiving during your sophomore year of college, you knew even then that she would be the girl he was one day going to marry. Best friends turned lovers. You could only dream you’d find that for yourself someday.

You and Natasha had quickly become close as well. Bradley and Uncle Mav were the only family you had and it was nice to have another person���especially a badass woman like Natasha, in your corner. 

The two of you got on like a house on fire, and Natasha was always there to give her love and support. She was like the big sister you never had, and it wasn’t long before the two of you were ganging up on your brother and teasing him together.

As Natasha’s maid of honor, you’d spent the morning with her and the other bridesmaids, helping the blushing bride get ready for her big day. In a fancy suite getting all dolled up while drinking mimosas, having your hair and makeup done before changing into matching bridesmaid dresses of a silky satin—cowl neckline and spaghetti straps, in a soft lavender shade. Helping Natasha into her beautiful, intricately lacy, white wedding gown.

The wedding ceremony was absolutely beautiful and had gone off without a hitch. Bradley had tears in his eyes as Natasha walked down the aisle to the Wedding March, matching smiles on their faces as they joined hands at the altar. 

You even shed a tear yourself as the couple exchanged their vows, and before you knew it, Bradley was pulling Natasha in for a loving kiss and they were declared husband and wife.

Then, onto the reception, you’d watched with a slightly sad smile as Bradley and Natasha shared their first dance as husband and wife. You were so happy for the two of them, truly, but it was hard to get into the headspace for celebrating. Seeing two of your favorite people so in love when you’d just been dumped. When your own love life was at a standstill and you were left feeling lost and lonely.

You’d been too preoccupied in your thoughts to notice the first dance had come to an end before Nat came to talk to you. You felt guilty at the fact that she was spending her time worrying about you when she should be enjoying her big day. You’re lucky to call Natasha your sister.

So, you force your most convincing smile onto your face and nod your head, telling her that you’re just fine.

“Just tired from the long day, but I’m having a great time. I’m good, I promise!” You weren’t sure if she believed you, but luckily Natasha was pulled away by one of her aunts gushing over how beautiful she looked and offering her congratulations, before she could protest.

It’s especially hard to enjoy a wedding reception when you’re sat at a table alone, watching as everyone else is having a good time, dancing along to the music being played by the DJ. 

Once the first dance was through, the rest of the guests were welcomed to join the happy couple on the dancefloor. You knew your brother had plenty of cute pilot friends, and you also knew–thanks to Natasha–that some of them were single. So, you were hoping that one of them might ask you to dance.

You may have also been hopeful for the possibility of getting laid tonight. You were newly single but even then, it’d been months since you and your ex last had sex. You were sad and lonely and thought, what better way to get back out there and help yourself feel better than hooking up with one of said cute pilots? 

Your plan, however, seemed futile because none of the guys would even talk to you. In fact, since Bradley had introduced you to them after the ceremony earlier in the day, his fellow pilots could hardly look you in the eye.

“Guys, this is my little sister.” With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, your brother had rattled off each of the naval aviators’ names and callsigns, and told his friends your name. They were all nice enough, each politely shaking your hand and making small talk, a few of them making jokes at your big brother’s expense.

But you could sense there was an awkwardness there, almost as if the members of the Dagger squad were afraid of you. You couldn’t understand why, but you could tell they were hesitant to keep the conversation going with you.

Initially, you brushed it off. However, as the day went on, whenever you’d find yourself alone in conversation with one of the Top Gun pilots, they each kept the interactions very short and sweet, acting as though they couldn’t get away from you fast enough. Leaving you feeling unsure of yourself and wondering what you could have possibly done to have them all so blatantly avoiding you. 

So, after sharing a dance with your dear Uncle Mav and relinquishing him back into the awaiting arms of Penny, you spend the next half hour moping at the table on your own. Absent-mindedly swirling the straw around in your drink, chin resting in your other hand as you watch the festivities going on around you. 

And that’s how Jake finds you.

You were adorable. With your sparkling eyes and your hair pinned up into some intricate up-do that Jake wanted to see undone, a few pieces flowing down and framing your face. The hint of cleavage Jake could see beneath the cowl neckline of that lavender dress that hugged your curves so well as you leaned forward against the table, a slight pout on your lips as you observed everyone having fun on the dancefloor.

Jake could tell that you weren’t having a good time and he knew exactly why. 

Little did you know that earlier that morning while Bradley and his groomsmen were getting ready in a suite separate from the girls, your brother had had a “talk” with all the guys.

Debriefing about last night’s rehearsal dinner, Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy–all of the single groomsmen–had been discussing a few of Natasha’s bridesmaids that they thought were cute. Especially the maid of honor. 

Rooster’s ears had been ringing when he heard them describe you to a T, and Jake could practically see smoke coming out of them as he turned toward his friends, always the overprotective big brother ready to shut them down.

“The maid of honor,” all of the groomsmen turned to look at the mustached groom as he began to speak.

“Is my little sister. And she’s off limits.” At his words and the stern, serious tone of Bradley’s voice, Jake and the others collectively shut up, matching caught-out and shocked expressions on each of their faces.

“I mean it, guys, I don’t wanna see any of you hitting on her. I love you all like my brothers, but I’m not afraid to kick someone’s ass if I see you trying it on with my sister.”

The guys all knew that Rooster wasn’t bluffing. With rushed apologies and confirmations that they’d leave you alone, the tension left the room as they all laughed it off and went about their business getting ready for the ceremony. 

With Bradley’s warning in mind, the Dagger squad had spent the rest of the day being nice—but not too nice—whenever they spoke to you, and tried to keep their interactions with you to a minimum, so as not to face your older brother’s wrath.

They all knew that Bradley could be a bit hotheaded. Even Bob, who is very happily married, found himself a little afraid to spend too much time conversing with you.

Jake was ready to follow the rules too, it was Bradshaw’s wedding after all. He could hold off on pissing off his best frenemy for one night. At least that was the case, until the reception. 

When he saw you sitting all alone, all gorgeous and sulking, Jake knew right then that he had to go talk to you. He knew he was the only one stupid enough—or brave enough, if you ask him—to go against your brother’s wishes, and who was Jake if he wasn’t stirring the pot?

Was it so wrong for him to help a pretty lady have a good time? And you were beautiful, strikingly so, so Jake wouldn’t mind if he got a little something out of it too. 

Jake isn’t scared of your brother. Besides, Rooster is far too busy dancing with Phoenix, the newlywed couple far too preoccupied with making heart-eyes at each other to notice him making his way over to you.

Your eyes widen with intrigue as the tall, blonde pilot—Jake, or Hangman as he’d been introduced to you—sidles over to where you’re seated. 

God, was he handsome. You sit up a little straighter as he plonks himself down in the chair next to you, a devilish smirk on his lips as he turns toward you. 

“What is a pretty little thing like you doing sitting here all on her lonesome?” He inquires, a slight Southern drawl to his voice. Texan, maybe?

“Um… drinking?” Your answer is short, but you’re a bit caught off guard and still annoyed by the fact that all of your attempts at socializing tonight with anyone outside of the few members of your family and Phoenix, had failed. 

But now, here was Hangman, going out of his way to talk to you and looking you straight in your eyes. His green gaze intense and leaving you a bit flustered. 

Jake glances down to where you’re still toying with the straw in your near-empty glass. With that playful smirk still present on his face, he goes to speak again.

“Well, darlin’, I cannot in good conscience let you drink alone. What are you drinking and how ‘bout I buy you another one?” His question makes you scoff. 

“Tequila Sunrise, and it’s an open bar, so… no, you can’t buy me a drink.” You roll your eyes at the almost too handsome pilot. 

Oh. Pretty and feisty. Jake was going to have a hard time staying away from you.

“Well then, how about I acquire you another one, and because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll even join you?” Jake winks at you and stands, striding towards the bar before you could even answer his question. 

Your brother and Natasha had mentioned Hangman to you a handful times over the years, and he was just as cocky and self-assured as they always said. But, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you don’t find it kind of charming, or that you aren’t extremely attracted to him.

Jake returns a couple minutes later, a Tequila Sunrise in one hand and a glass of what looked to be whiskey in the other. He places your drink down in front of you and slides back into the chair next to yours, albeit a few inches closer this time.

“You know, you look pretty miserable over here. Though, I guess I would be too if I had to grow up with Rooster as my brother.” That draws a genuine laugh out of you.

“There she is!” His exclamation makes you giggle, a slight blush taking over your cheeks. Jake loves the sight of your smile. The sound of your laugh. He decides that he wants to hear that sound over and over again.

“He’s not so bad.” You refute through your laughter.

“I just don’t really know many people here, and I kind of get the feeling my brother and Nat’s friends don’t like me very much. I’m not sure why…” You trail off and look down at your lap, shy all of a sudden. Jake has to fight very hard to not smile at how adorable your furrowed brows and pouted lips are.

“You’re the first person here to actually talk to me for more than two seconds.” You let out a nervous laugh and start sipping your new drink.

Jake feels bad that your dumbass brother’s plan to keep the guys away from you is the reason you’re feeling so down, without you even knowing. And no matter how cute you may look, Jake doesn’t like seeing you sad. He’s going to rectify that.

“Well darlin’, now that I’m here, you don’t need to talk to anyone else.” Jake’s smile is still smug, but sincere, and you can’t help but grin back at him. You shake your head and giggle at the cocky pilot, thinking to yourself that it wouldn’t be so bad if he were the only person you had to talk to for the rest of the night.

“Now, how about we finish these drinks and then we head out onto the dancefloor?” To that, you agree, and the two of you sit sipping your drinks and talking for a little while. Getting better acquainted. Jake is fun and very charming, and you love how easily he’s able to make you laugh.

When Jake notices that you’re just about done with your tequila sunrise, he quickly shoots back the rest of his whiskey, ready to get you onto the dancefloor. He stands and you accept the hand he’s extended toward you, his large hand engulfing your smaller one and letting him lead you into the crowd of people. 

Standing in front of him now, you only just notice how good Jake looks in his suit. It’s a simple black suit, white undershirt and black tie, like all the groomsmen wore. But the way it fits his body, the way the jacket sleeves are ever-so-slightly too tight around his big arms, and the way you could tell he was extremely toned even under layers of clothing, made you dizzy.

As you make it onto the floor, Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Everywhere’ begins to play through the speakers. Jake pulls you in close to him by your joined hands and spins you around under his arm. The two of you laugh, both a little tipsy. 

You spend the duration of the song dancing together like children without a care in the world. Not much rhythm to it or any real dance moves, mostly just jumping around and singing along to the lyrics, Jake twirling you around a good number of times. You’re sure that the two of you look like idiots, but it’s the most fun you’ve had all night.

You dance together to a couple more upbeat songs, and Jake can’t help but admire you. He finds it incredibly sexy how carefree you seem in this moment.

As another classic rock song comes to an end and a slower song takes its place, Jake pulls you in again. This time by the waist, until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. The warmth of his hands setting your skin alight through the thin, satiny fabric of your bridesmaid’s dress. 

Your own hands slide up his biceps, coming to rest on his broad shoulders. You look up at him with those bright, beautiful eyes and a shy smile, and Jake finds himself entranced. 

God, he wants to kiss you.  

You rest your head on his chest as he begins to sway you softly along to the music. As if Jake can feel eyes burning into the side of his face, he turns the two of you slightly, only to find Rooster glaring at him as he stands across the dancefloor, slow dancing with Phoenix.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Bradley quietly asks, mostly to himself, but the question catches his wife’s attention. 

“What is who doing?” Natasha queries with a laugh as she turns to look at where Bradley’s hard gaze is pointed.

“Aw, maybe Bagman does have a heart.” Her lips form into an exaggerated pout as she watches Jake and you sway from side to side as he holds you in his arms, your head leaning on his chest. Bradley looks down at her with a bewildered look on his face.

“No, that is most definitely not AW, and no he doesn’t!” He grouches with a sigh. Natasha gives him a questioning glance, waiting expectantly for whatever the hell it is she’s missing right now.

“I told those idiots to stay away from her.” Bradley mutters dejectedly.

“What are you talking about, told who to stay away from who?” Natasha narrows her eyes at her husband.

“Jake and the rest of the squad. I overheard them talking about how hot they thought my sister was, and I told them to leave her alone.” Bradley whines.

Natasha stays silent for a few moments, processing this information and looking up at her husband with a stunned expression.

“Oh, honey…” She can’t help but laugh. Now she understands why you’d spent much of the evening sulking.

“What?!” Bradley practically shrieks. “She’s my baby sister, I just wanna protect her!”

At that, Natasha cracks a smile. She’s always admired how much Rooster loves his little sister and how, with your parents gone, he always felt it was his responsibility to take care of you. 

“Bradley, I love you, but you really are an idiot sometimes.” Natasha grins, shaking her head at her husband. The look he gives her is dumbfounded and one of slight offense.

“Babe, I get that you want to protect your sister, but she’s not a kid anymore. She’s an adult and you have to let her make her own choices and her own mistakes. Even if one of those mistakes is Bagman.” Natasha scrunches her nose playfully and Bradley gives her a deadpan look. 

“You know she’d be pissed if she found out that you did that.” Natasha smirks, thinking back on a few of the silly sibling spats that she’s had to mediate over the last few years since she’s been with Bradley—most of them due entirely to his overprotective tendencies and your desire to escape them. 

“Come on, Roo, you know I’m right.” Bradley rolls his eyes dramatically and sighs, wrapping his arms around his bride. 

“Yeah, you always are. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He places a kiss on her forehead, and murmurs against her skin. “But if he hurts her, I’ll kill him.” 

Bradley glares in Jake’s direction once again.

Jake can also feel the eyes of the other Top Gun pilots on the two of you. They’ve all just witnessed the interaction and look between him and Rooster, some looking on in amusement, others in fear for Jake's safety.

Jake has to bite back a laugh, leaning his head down on top of yours to hide the cheeky smile that plays on his lips. The two of you slow dance a little while longer, Jake’s hands rubbing gently up and down your sides and sending your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies.

Jake decides he’d like a moment alone with you, away from prying eyes. His hands leave your torso, moving to rest on your arms, giving them a light squeeze to gain your attention. The hazy, content look on your pretty face when you look up at him only strengthens his desire to be alone with you. Fuck, he wants you.

“Come with me?” Jake leans down to whisper into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. When he pulls back, you look up to see his emerald eyes boring into you, and you simply nod.

You aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but if he keeps looking at you like that, you’re pretty certain you’d follow him anywhere. He grabs your hand and spares a last glance at your still glaring brother, smirking as he leads you to the exit of the ballroom. 

Before you can make it past the threshold though, Jake comes to an abrupt stop and lets go of your hand.

“One second.” He quickly breathes out, leaving you standing by the door as he darts back over the bar.

You’re confused for a moment, but you can’t help but giggle to yourself as you watch him look around to make sure no one is watching before he reaches behind the bar, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne. 

He sprints back over to you, once again taking your hand in his free one and speeding out into the hallway, pulling you along with him. You’re unable to keep from laughing, near breathless as you try to keep up with Jake’s long strides in your high heels.

When he finds a dark, empty room towards the back of the venue hall, Jake pulls you inside with him and closes the door. Before you know it, your back is pressed against it, hitting the hard wood with a thud as Jake crashes his lips against yours, kissing you breathless.

Catching your plush bottom lip between both of his, one of his hands finds your waist in the dark, the other still holding onto the neck of the champagne bottle. You kiss him back with just as much fervor, reaching a hand up into Jake’s blonde hair and tugging lightly, pulling a soft groan from him. 

The two of you move in sync, lips pressing together at an increasing speed and intensity until your lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen. Jake pulls back for some air and both of your chests are heaving, light pants escaping your lips as you stare at each other in the dark of the room.

When you look down and catch a glimpse of the bottle still in Jake’s grasp, you let out a breathless chuckle.

“You forgot the glasses.” 

He follows your gaze and laughs along with you, though it comes out as more of a pant.

“Shit, yeah. Maybe we can find some in here, if I can just find a light…” Jake trails off, his body leaving your personal space and pulling the warmth of him along with it. You’re left standing by the door, feeling cold and already missing his presence and his weight against you as he goes off in search of the lights. 

It’s a quick search, after about only 30 seconds, Jake finds a lamp on a table in the corner of the room. He switches it on, casting the room in a soft, dim golden light.

No longer bathed in darkness, you now see that the room you ended up in is another suite like the ones the bridal party had used to get ready that morning. A couple of fancy olive green velvet couches spread throughout the space, a few vanity mirrors along the far wall, a door leading to a bathroom at the back. 

You take a seat on one of the lavish couches and remove your heels, feet aching a bit after the long day. You pull your legs up onto the couch as Jake goes on the hunt for champagne glasses. After a brief and unsuccessful search, Jake joins you on the couch.

“No luck.” His playful pout makes you giggle as he plops down onto the cushion next to you. 

“Fuck it!” Jake exclaims as he turns the champagne bottle away from you to open it, a small gasp escaping your lips as he sends the cork flying somewhere across the room. 

He hands the bottle over to you with a grin.

“Ladies first.” And there’s that wink again. As you take a swig from the bottle, Jake pulls your feet up into his lap, and you nearly choke on the fizzy liquid in surprise when his fingers begin to massage your calves. Once the initial shock wears off, you can’t stop the contented sigh that escapes your lips at the feeling. 

When you’ve taken a few sips, you hand the bottle back over to Jake, fingers brushing as he takes it from your grasp. His eyes remain on your face as he takes a big swig of the champagne and you can feel a blush beginning to heat up your face. 

Setting the bottle down on the floor, Jake tugs your legs closer to him again, this time pulling until you’re nearly sitting in his lap and drawing a little yelp from you. Your face is inches away from his and in the dim lamplight you can see that his eyes are blown wide, mostly black with only a hint of that pretty green visible.

Jake reaches a hand toward the back of your neck, gently running his fingers between your shoulder blades and down your upper back, bare due to the low backing of your dress. Grazing your skin with a featherlight touch before curling his fingers around the nape of your neck and pulling you in to kiss him again. 

The taste of champagne is prevalent as Jake attaches his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your waist to help guide you fully onto his lap. Your own hands slide along his chest over the soft fabric of his suit jacket and up to his broad shoulders, fingers gripping lightly at the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Your lips move softly against his, finding a rhythm and allowing yourself to get lost in it.

Jake’s hands squeeze at your waist, thumbs just barely grazing the underside of your breasts through your dress as he deepens the kiss. Pulling you impossibly closer as he nips at your bottom lip, eliciting a quiet whine from you. His tongue tracks along the seam of your lips and you’re quick to part them for him, allowing his tongue to work softly against yours.

You and Jake relish in the taste of one another mixed with the sweetness of the bubbly alcohol, your movements becoming more fervent. Your head grows dizzy as Jake groans into your mouth when your fingers gently tug at the hair at his nape.

Jake feels his cock twitch in his pants when he pulls away and sees your hazy expression, all hooded lids and kiss-swollen lips. He presses a trail of sweet kisses to your jaw and chin, working his way down to your neck. His nose grazes the column of your throat, inhaling the sweet, flowery scent of your perfume.

Your head tilts back on a quiet moan, granting Jake more access as his mouth begins to work at the side of your neck. Sucking and biting at the soft skin, teeth sure enough to leave a mark. With your hands still in his hair, you pull Jake back up to your lips, kissing him ardently as your hips involuntarily rut against the growing bulge in his trousers.

You both moan at the friction as Jake’s hand moves to cup your cheek, fingers tangling in your intricately styled hair. As his tongue glides against yours, you feel him begin to pull at the pins, loosening your hair from its confines until it flows freely around your shoulders. He pulls back from the kiss to look at you with a look that screams pure lust.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.” Jake breathes as he runs a hand through your silky locks. Since he first laid eyes on you, he’d wondered how you’d look with your hair all messy and free, your perfect little up-do unraveled. And fuck, does he like what he sees.

With a newfound sense of need, you reattach your lips to Jake’s, sliding your tongue into his mouth as your hands begin to push the suit jacket off of his shoulders. He shrugs it the rest of the way off, letting out a whispered ‘fuck’ as your lips trail down his sharp jawline to his neck as your nimble fingers begin to work on untying his tie, and straight to unbuttoning his dress shirt after that.

When his upper half is free of clothes, you tease soft, barely-there kisses along Jake’s shoulders and the hard plains of his chest. Eager to touch more of your skin, Jake’s hands make their way down to your thighs, changing positions to pull you underneath him on the velvet couch, your legs wrapped around his hips. He sits up and runs an index finger lightly under the thin strap of your dress.

“Can I?” You nod fervently in response to his question and Jake gently pushes the straps off of your shoulders.

You sit up and Jake pecks your lips, his hands moving behind you to unzip the top of your dress. The soft satin falls down around your torso, revealing a strapless lacy bra that matches the pastel purple of your dress. His hands reach again behind your back, making quick work of unclasping your bra to reveal your perfect, supple breasts.

Jake takes a moment to admire the beautiful picture that’s in front of him before he leans down to kiss at your chest. His lips work softly at the swell of your breast, thumb and index finger coming to pinch at one nipple while his mouth engulfs the other. The moan it pulls from you is music to Jake’s ears.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once again as his tongue swirls your nipple, quiet whimpers escaping you as he kisses and suckles at the skin. His mouth travels to your other breast, leaving a trail of kisses along the way before sucking the bud between his lips, tongue working softly at it until it forms a hardened peak.

Satisfied with his work, Jake grazes his teeth against your nipple, evoking a breathy gasp from you and a tug on his hair as he nips at the sensitive bud before releasing it. You feel a gush of arousal at your core as his mouth starts to trail lower down your torso. Kissing softly at your sternum, your ribcage, and just above your navel.

Goosebumps form along your skin as Jake lowers himself down on the couch, strong hands gliding up the sides of your thighs. Pushing the silky fabric of your dress along with them until it’s bunched up at the middle of your torso, revealing pretty, sheer lace panties that you’re sure are probably soaked through.

Jake presses a kiss to your hip bone, looking up at you with wild eyes awaiting your permission. You swallow hard, nodding your head frantically. You need him to touch you before you go insane.

“Please, Jake,” You hardly recognize the breathless, whiny voice that comes out of your mouth. “Need you.”

Jake runs a finger along your slit over the damp fabric of your panties, your desperate, breathy cries painting a smirk on his lips. He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He teasingly bumps his finger into your clit just to hear you whine before his fingers grip onto your waistband, pulling the lacy fabric torturously slow down your thighs. He sits back on his knees, pressing a kiss to your knee as he helps get your underwear the rest of the way down your legs.

When they fall to the floor, Jake repositions himself on the couch between your thighs, lifting one of them over his shoulder. His lips make a trail up the inside of your thigh, kissing and nipping at the soft skin and enjoying the way your breath catches as he inches closer to where you need him most, before ultimately moving back and starting again on the other thigh. Your fingers tug at his roots, chest breathless and heaving as you wait for Jake to just do something.

You moan out loudly in surprise as your wish is granted, Jake’s tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds. Your fingers tighten in his hair when he presses a kiss to your clit. He pulls back for a moment and just stares at your cunt, pretty and glistening just for him. 

You’d be embarrassed at the attention if it weren’t for the look of complete awe on his gorgeous face as he gazes at your core. His tongue glides through your folds again, collecting your arousal.

“Mm, so fuckin’ sweet, baby. Just like you.” And with that, Jake sucks your clit between his lips, drawing a loud cry from your lips as he applies a firm pressure. He alternates between suckling the sensitive bud and dipping his tongue into your hole, tasting the wetness that continues to flow at his ministrations.

As his lips wrap around your clit once more, you feel one of Jake’s fingers begin to tease at your entrance. Gathering the wetness there before the digit enters you, he lets out a low groan as you clench around it. He works his finger in and out, adding in a second to help stretch you out and get you ready for his cock.

Jake can hear your soft whimpers and heavy breathing, he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers even tighter as he prods at that spongy spot inside of you and he knows that you’re close.

“Gonna come for me, Sweets? You gonna come all over my tongue?” Jake implores with a teasing smirk before he dives back in, tongue replacing his fingers and licking into you.

“Fuck, please, Ja- OHH!” Your plea is cut short as his fingers pinch at your clit once more. Rubbing tight circles in time with his tongue that’s fucking in and out your hole. Jake’s fingers quicken their pace, pressing firmly against your sensitive bud while he devours you, and you fall over the edge with a sharp cry that borders on being a scream.

“So fucking good for me.” Jake mutters against your center, his tongue lapping up your release while his fingers still gently swirl your clit and work you through your orgasm. He licks up every bit of your sweetness, rutting his hips against the velvety couch cushion to gain some friction on his still-clothed cock that strains under the fabric of his pants, as he watches you writhe under his tongue, hands tugging at his roots hard as your loud cries turn into soft whimpers.

Jake only lets up when your shaky hand tries to push his head away from your center, the pleasure becoming too much. Leaving one final kiss to your inner thigh, he pulls back, lips and chin glistening with your release.

You tug at Jake’s hair again, guiding his head back up to be level with yours. You pull him into a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands travel down to unbuckle Jake’s belt and open the button of his trousers, one hand dipping into the waistband to cup him over his boxers. 

Jake grunts above you as you palm at his hard length, his own hands reaching down to help you remove his pants.

Only able to get them about halfway down his legs from his position hovering over you, Jake pulls back and stands from the couch. He pulls his dress pants and underwear down in one swift motion. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, his cock long and hard, the tip red and dripping with precum.

Before he can return to his previous position kneeling above you, you too stand up, pushing Jake back onto the couch in a seated position.

“Wha- where ya goin’, darling?” Jake questions you with a breathless chuckle, a bit surprised by the moment of dominance from you. As you drop to your knees in front of him though, he starts to get the hint.

“Just wanna return the favor.” You say it sweetly, giving him your best doe eyes. Jake’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, caressing the skin softly and letting out a desperate groan as you position yourself between his thick thighs.

You trail your nails along the skin of his thighs, leaving light pink marks in your wake as you tease your way to the apex of his thighs. When you finally wrap your hand around him, you feel Jake’s cock twitch in your grasp and look up at him with a sweet smile. 

Minx. Jake swears he could cum right then and there.

Your hand rubs along the base of Jake’s cock and up to his tip, collecting the precum dribbling from his slit and dragging it down his length to aid in your movements. Your grip tightens around him just slightly, and you enjoy the desperate sound he makes as you lean down to place a kiss to his weeping tip.

Hand still cupping your cheek, Jake’s fingers move into your hair as you kitten lick at his tip before taking him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the ridge of his head, sucking softly and moving further down onto his length. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can, eagerly sucking his shaft and using your hand to rub what you can’t fit.

Your fingers move to grip one of Jake’s strong thighs as you take him as far down your throat as you possibly can, blinking up at him with wide doe eyes. Your cheeks suction around his length and Jake chokes on a loud moan, his fingers tightening in your hair when his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, fuck.” He gently pulls you off of him with a groan, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen pink lips to the head of his cock. Jake knew he was getting close and he didn’t want to finish before feeling your sweet cunt wrapped around him.

“Need to be inside you, darlin’.” Jake practically begs as he pulls you up to your feet. He finishes unzipping your dress that’s still hanging down around your middle the rest of the way, watching the fabric pool around your feet before guiding you to sit atop his thighs. Fully naked and secure in his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lead Jake into another fiery kiss.

“Need you, Jake.” You breathe against his lips, noses rubbing together as you nod your head against him. 

You grind your hips down against his in an effort to convey your need. Jake’s hand reaches down to grip his cock, running it along your soaked folds and bumping your clit with his tip, teasing you both as you moan against each other’s lips.

“Shit… I don’t have a condom.” Jake realizes, voice sounding defeated as he looks down and  watches the head of his cock tease at your clit once more.

“Fuck.” The word comes out of your mouth as a whine. 

Fuck was right. All that hoping and planning to get lucky tonight, and you hadn’t had the forethought to bring protection? Whoops.

Lucky for you, you’d been on the pill for a couple of years now, having started taking it when you were with your ex. You place a gentle kiss to Jake’s cheek before pulling back to look in his eyes as you speak.

“I’m on the pill. And I haven’t been with anyone in a while, so… I’m good.” You chuckle sheepishly, brows furrowing slightly as you wait for Jake’s response.

Jake nods his head eagerly. “Fuck-yeah, I’m all good too! If you’re sure…” he wants to be sure that you’re comfortable.

He can’t help but grin as you nod your head just as eagerly, but that grin is quickly wiped off Jake’s face.

Your brother can never find out about this… Rooster would actually kill him. It’s bad enough that he’s sleeping with Bradley’s little sister on his wedding day, let alone without protection.

It’s an afterthought that Jake realizes he must’ve accidentally spoken aloud, as the giggles that erupt from you in response to the words spoken under his breath hit his ears.

“Yes.” You plant a kiss on his jaw. “I’m sure, Jake.” Another kiss. “Need you.” Your lips move to peck his hungrily.

His thoughts are immediately pulled away from Rooster and Jake couldn’t be happier. Not only does he get to be inside of you, but he gets to feel you wrapped around him with no barrier in between. 

Your blatant need for him only inflates Jake’s ego, and makes him impossibly harder. His hand cups the side of your neck, pressing his lips firmly to yours one more time before leaning back to look at you with a smug smirk.

“Go ahead. Take it, baby.” Jake drawls as he leans back, arms stretched along the back of the couch, his words have you clenching around nothing.

At his request, you lift your hips slightly, taking Jake’s hard cock into your hand and lining it up with your entrance. He watches in awe as you sink down around his length slowly, the both of you hissing simultaneously. You at the stretch, and him the tightness of your walls enveloping him. 

Your hands hold onto Jake’s shoulders for support as you take him, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside of you. You both let out quiet curses at the feeling. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so full, but your slickness makes for easy movement once you get used to the stretch.

You lift your hips until just the tip of his cock is still inside of you, before slowly sinking back down and grinding your hips against his.

“Fuck. Feel so good, darlin.” Jake groans as your muscles clench around him and you let out a quiet whimper in response.

You bury your face in the crook of Jake’s neck as you begin to ride him, moving up and down his length as your hips work to find a rhythm. Jake groans as you begin to pick up the pace, his hands moving to your hips to help guide your movements.

When you’ve found a good rhythm, Jake plants his feet firmly on the floor beneath him and begins to thrust up into you. Pulling your hips firmly against his with every thrust, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you cry out in ecstasy.

The soft whimpers you let out against the skin of his neck are driving Jake’s movements, the sweet, open-mouthed kisses littered against the column of his throat spurring him on. He grunts as your walls tighten around him in a vice-like grip on a particularly hard thrust. 

Jake can tell you’re getting tired as your thighs begin to tremble over his, hips stuttering and losing their tempo as you rise and sink yourself down on his cock.

His hands wrap around your thighs, lifting you off of him and you whine in protest at the loss of the fullness of him. With you still hovering over his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, Jake easily flips the two of you over, gently placing you so that you’re lying back on the velvety couch. He hovers over you, knees digging into the cushions and he leans down to attach his lips to yours as he lines up with your entrance again.

You moan into the kiss as Jake bottoms out inside of you, your velvety walls welcoming him in with ease. Jake lifts one of your thighs around his hips, your leg going to wrap around his back automatically as he plows into you, the head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside of you again and it has you seeing stars.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, Jake’s soft grunts and your blissful cries mingling together. Skin slapping against skin as Jake drives into you, the sound of your growing wetness as his cock moves in and out at a rapid pace. Jake leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth as he fucks you, nipping lightly at the skin.

“Jake…fuck! Please…” You’re babbling almost incoherently, the fucked-out look on your face sending Jake into a frenzy.

“I’ve got you, honey. Want you to come for me.” He mumbles against the skin of your chest as he continues to fuck you, one hand gripping onto the top of the couch for support.

He can sense you’re getting close and he applies a firm thumb to your clit, the pressure willing another moan from deep within you. Your fingers lock onto the strands of his hair as his fingers begin to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Jake quickens the pace of his thrusts, and his hand moves to grab the leg that’s wrapped around his waist, instead pushing your knee up to your chest so he can plunge into you deeper. The new angle combined with the consistent pressure on your clit has you screaming out, and you pray that no one walks down the hall past this room right now because they’d definitely hear you.

The sensation of Jake’s thumb and forefinger harshly pinching your clit sends you over the edge, a loud, broken cry escaping your throat as he fucks you through it. His length continues to move in and out of you, hips never slowing their pace. The overstimulation leaves you a whimpering mess, nails clawing into Jake’s shoulder as he searches for his own high.

Jake is nearing his end too, the tightness of your walls constricting around his cock as you writhe and whimper underneath him makes his hips stutter as he slams into you. With a few more thrusts, he reaches his peak with a deep groan. His warm, sticky release coating your walls and you sigh blissfully at the feeling. Jake’s hips slow, not stopping fully until he’s spent, wanting to fill you up with every last drop of his cum.

Once he’s sure that you’ve milked him of every last bit, Jake pulls out of you gently and you whimper at the feeling. Missing the fullness of him already, a sigh escapes your lips as a mixture of his release and yours begins to dribble out between your thighs.

Jake moves to flip the two of you over so that you’re lying on top of him, your head resting upon his chest. You can feel his still-fast heartbeat against your ear, getting slower by the minute as he recovers from his high. 

Your own heart is racing too and your mind is hazy as you wind down, you’re not sure that anyone has ever fucked you so good. Jake’s arms wrap around you, one hand reaching up into your hair and gently massaging your scalp as the other softly rubs at the skin of your back.

The two of you lay there for a while, cuddling and quietly talking about everything and nothing. Sharing details about yourselves, wanting to get to know each other a little better. 

At some point, you pick up the bottle of champagne from the floor again, still resting on Jake’s chest as you pass it back and forth. Taking sips, both of you pleasantly buzzed—from both the alcohol and the orgasms��as you talk about your jobs, your families, anything and everything that comes to mind.

Eventually, the topic of discussion turns to the events of the day and the wedding, and Jake has you giggling as he makes some joke at your brother’s expense. 

Spending time with Jake is easy. You feel giddy, yet comfortable in his embrace and his cocky-but-charming personality hasn’t failed yet to make you smile.

“Maybe we should get married.” The sarcastic tone of Jake’s voice lets you know he’s obviously joking, but his words still have you lifting your head from his bare chest to look up at him, a bit bemused.

“It would make my entire life to see the look on Rooster’s face when he has to tell people that I’m his brother-in-law.” Jake continues, looking down at you with that signature smirk, the mischievous mirth in his eyes eliciting a giggle from you.

Even though he doesn’t know you very well yet, Jake can’t help but think it might actually be pretty nice to be married to someone like you. Sweet, funny, beautiful–and Jake finds he really enjoys spending time with you.

“Yeah, I’d pay good money to see that.” You agree, your body being gently bounced around with the movement of Jake’s chest beneath you as he joins you in your laughter.

“Ok, so I know it’s a little soon for marriage, but I would like to take you out.” For the first time since you met him earlier that day, Jake actually seems a bit… nervous? The smile on his face is a bashful one and you find it’s adorable. From the stories your brother had told about the cocky pilot, you never would’ve thought you’d find him so endearing.

“Like… in the murdering sense?” You try to alleviate his nerves with a bit of humor and Jake’s subsequent deadpan stare has you giggling again. You lean up to press a kiss to his jaw. He pretends to be annoyed by your antics, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile.

“On a date.” He drawls with a dramatic eye roll. You suck in a breath and plaster a pensive look on your face, pretending for a moment like you actually need to think about his offer. You exhale with an exaggerated sigh.

“Ok.” Your arms tighten around Jake’s torso and you press a kiss to his chest.

“Yeah?” Jake tries to keep his cool, but he has a hard time hiding the excitement in his voice. He knows you can probably feel the way his heart has sped up beneath your cheek that’s resting against his skin too.

“Yes. I’d love to go out with you.” You lift your head to gaze up at him once more, trying to bite back your grin. But Jake’s thumb reaches up to release your bottom lip from between your teeth, gently running over the tender skin as he gazes down at you with those glittering green eyes. Yeah, you could get used to that.

The two of you stay wrapped up together on the sofa a little while longer, still talking quietly so as to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the ambiently-lit suite. You’re still lying on Jake’s chest, your legs intertwined with his, lulled into a hazy state of comfort as one of his hands lightly runs through your hair, lazily twirling the locks around his finger. His other hand is softly tracing patterns onto the bare skin of your back.

You and Jake have been gone a long while now, and you know if you don’t return to the party soon, Bradley is going to come looking for you. Deciding you’d rather not have your brother find you in such a compromising position with one of his friends, you begrudgingly lift your head from Jake’s chest.

“We should probably head back out there.” You say with little enthusiasm. “My brother’s gonna think you kidnapped me and send out a search party.” 

You grumble, pouting as Jake’s hand lightly caresses over your hair. Cute. 

He laughs at your sour expression and hums in agreement, sitting up on the couch. The movement of his body taking you with him as you’re still wrapped around him.

Jake ponders if he should maybe tell you about Bradley warning all of the men at his wedding away from you—but ultimately decides against it as you seem so content, so at ease with him. He didn’t want to ruin your good mood or cause problems between you and your brother. And, he really likes you. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Maybe he’d tell you one day when Bradley is really pissing him off, he thinks to himself with a smirk.

Jake helps you to your feet before standing up himself and stepping back into his boxers. He tells you to wait a moment while he runs into the bathroom that’s at the back of the room. 

While you’re in the midst of securely clasping your bra back over your chest, Jake returns with a damp cloth, kneeling down to gently clean up his cum that’s now dried down the inside of your thighs, leaving a soft kiss to the skin of your hip. 

Once you’re all cleaned up, Jake helps you step into your lace underwear, bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder for balance as your legs still feel a bit like Jell-O after the earth-shattering orgasms he had given you.

He stands to help you back into your bridesmaid’s dress, leaning down to place featherlight kisses to your shoulder blades as he closes up the zipper. Jake even helps smooth down your hair—surely a mess from your earlier activities and his hands running through it—leaving a chaste kiss to your lips before he moves to re-dress himself. This time forgoing his tie in favor of stuffing it into his pocket. 

With your heels strapped around your ankles once more, you let Jake lead you out of the suite. Your hand joined with his and your cheek resting against his shoulder as you navigate your way, side by side, back to the ballroom. 

When you reach the double doors, you tug at Jake’s hand to stop him before he can open them. The blonde’s cute, inquisitive look reminds you of a golden retriever puppy and it makes your heart flutter. You reach up to cup his cheeks, pulling him in for a brief, but passionate kiss.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to do that again.” You tell him with a nervous laugh and he lets out a satisfied groan.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Jake pulls you back in and you can feel the smirk on his lips as he attaches them to yours. The two of you spend the next few minutes just standing there, making out outside of the entrance to the ballroom. 

Mouths moving languidly together, and you don’t hesitate to grant Jake’s tongue access when it runs along the seam of your lips. Tongues swirling lazily around one another trying to memorize the taste. When you finally pull back, your lips are swollen, and both you and Jake are beaming.

The reception is coming to an end, and you make it back into the slowly emptying ballroom just in time to see the happy newlyweds making their rounds about the room, accepting congratulations and thanking their guests for coming. 

As they come across you and Jake, Natasha is all smiles while Bradley’s expression drops into one of annoyance, his hazel-eyed glare directed at Jake. 

Never one to be intimidated by his best frenemy, Jake’s mouth forms into that distinctive smirk, extending the hand that wasn’t holding yours toward your brother.

“Congratulations, Rooster.” Jake speaks confidently. The two of them shake hands, not dissimilar to how they did after the success of the Uranium mission. Except this time, Bradley isn’t smiling.

By the happy look on your face and the fact that you’re not glaring at him—or trying to hit him—Bradley realizes that Jake must not have told you about his earlier warning to his groomsmen. Though he’s still annoyed with Jake for going against his wishes, he guesses that’s for the best. Maybe Natasha was right.

“Thanks, man.” Bradley’s face softens just barely. 

“But, just know, if you hurt my little sister, I won’t hesitate to shoot your plane out of the sky. We clear?” Your brother continues, still shaking Jake’s hand all the while. Natasha watches the whole exchange, trying not to laugh.

“Bradley-!” Eyes widening, you try to intercept but Jake stops you, giving your hand a light squeeze.

“No, no. It’s okay, Sweets.” You can hear the mirth in his voice when he says it, knowing he’s going to get a reaction out of Bradley.

“SWEETS?!” Your brother all but shrieks, ripping his hand away from Jake’s as if he’s been burned and Natasha is no longer able to hold back her laughter. The pouty glare he gives her in return ends up pulling a snicker out of you too. Jake chuckles haughtily and wraps an arm around your shoulders before addressing your brother again.

“I’m not gonna do anything to hurt her, Bradshaw. I promise. You have my word.” You smile sweetly up at Jake, delighted by his words. 

Your brother grumbles in agreement, recognizing the sincerity in his friend’s voice in that moment, before the two of them shake hands once more. Then, Jake offers the bride a hug and his congratulations, and tells you he’ll give you a moment with you brother, that he’ll be waiting for you by the exit.

With Jake making his exit, your brother’s face finally softens as he turns his attention to you. 

That is, until he glances down a bit and you know that he’s clocked the very obvious hickey blooming on the side of your neck when his expression hardens again. You can swear you see his eye twitch and you have to refrain from laughing. Luckily, for both of your sakes, he doesn’t bring it up.

Bradley just sighs before shaking his head. For the first time since the breakup, his little sister looks genuinely happy and if that’s the case, then he’s happy too.

“Hangman… really?” He scrunches his nose and at that, you simply shrug at him with an amused grin.

Your brother groans, “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t wanna know.”

“Deal.” The two of you share a laugh and Bradley pulls you into a tight bear-hug, which you return gratefully.

“Love you, sis.” He murmurs into the crown of your hair. “Love you too, Bradley.”

Natasha watches the sweet moment between her new husband and sister-in-law with a smile.

“I’m really happy for you, big bro. And so proud. Mom and Dad would be too.” Your arms tighten around him as you quietly deliver the sentiment.

You turn your gaze toward Natasha to let her know that you’re now addressing her as well. “Congratulations!”

When Bradley releases you from his embrace, Nat pulls you in for a hug as well. With that, they bid you goodnight and make your way back over to Jake who’s waiting for you by the ballroom doors.

Bradley opens his arm for his wife to step under, which Natasha does gladly, her own arm draping around Bradley’s waist as his moves to wrap around her shoulders. The couple watches on as you cross the room to reach the cockiest member of the Dagger squad.

“I actually think they’re kinda cute together.” Natasha’s tone is a jesting one, but there’s definitely some truth to her statement. Bradley just tilts his head up toward the ceiling, eyes clenched shut as he groans in response.

With the festivities coming to a close, you find yourself incredibly tired. After such a long day–and all the exertion with Jake that evening, you’re more than ready for a good night’s sleep. Fortunately for you, everyone was staying in the hotel at which the reception was held, so it wasn’t a long commute. 

Despite your increasing exhaustion though, you were reluctant to bid Jake goodnight.

“So… I guess, if you want, you could walk me to my room? Or…” You trail off, leaving the ball in his court. A tad nervous now, blinking up at him with a bright-eyed, hopeful expression, unsure if Jake will get the hint. 

But he definitely does, and the expectant look on your beautiful face makes him smile. What you don’t know is that Jake isn’t quite ready for his time with you tonight to come to an end either.

“Or… you could come back to mine?” He finishes the sentence for you, his grin morphing into more of a smirk, but his tone remains sincere. Placing your hands on his chest, you lean up to peck Jake’s lips.

“I’d love to.” You speak softly against his lips and Jake can feel you smiling. “Just don’t tell my brother.”

Your cheeky remark has Jake letting out a throaty chuckle, his breath warming your cheek before he briefly presses his lips to yours more firmly.

“How else am I gonna piss him off?” Jake jests and you retreat from the kiss, playfully smacking his chest. Shaking your head as the two of you share another laugh. His hands move to slide up the bare skin of your arms as you pull back and Jake can feel the goosebumps forming there.

He removes his suit jacket, leaving him in just his dress shirt, and carefully drapes it over your shoulders. The coat dwarfs your smaller frame, and Jake decides he loves the way you look all wrapped up in his clothes.

“Come on, Sweets. Let’s get you to bed.” Jake softly drawls. The look you give him is one of pure adoration as he takes your hand in his and leads you out into the halls of the hotel.

And though you’re most definitely tired, you have an inkling you’d be more than okay with spending a couple more hours wide awake with Jake when you get up to his room.

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Thank you for reading! x

Part two

Taglist: @sebsxphia @wkndwlff @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87

also tagging a few others who reblogged the sneak peek of this story:

@sunlightmurdock @rosiahills22 @gigisimsonmars @wildxwidow @sarkasfics @roosters-girl <3

[moonchildreads]

don't you know what the night can do?

summary: you call for help in the middle of the night and eddie comes to your rescue

pairing: best friend!eddie x reader

tags/warnings: mdni. technically a college au? depression, abusive relationship (not eddie, he's a sweetie), talks of potential homelessness, no SA happens but eddie thinks it did for a second before it's cleared up (again, it does NOT happen, but since it could be triggering consider this your warning), hurt/comfort, happy ending!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but upon rereading it i realised it was me trauma dumping so i rewrote a significant portion of this to make it into it's own thing. i hope it brings you as much comfort for you as it did for me, and if you are in a situation like reader is, please seek help. i believe in you and i am rooting for you 🖤

Now's the time when it's down to me and you Spread these wings, we'll be flying

It’s already late when the phone rings and he’s immediately shoving his feet into his sneakers, rushing out the door of his apartment and into his van. It’s even more late when he parks across the street and decides against waking your entire building up by ringing your doorbell. Hurriedly, he searches his glove box for that little spare key you gave him for emergencies - the one that has a big metal ring and a tiny plastic tab with your name on it. He lets himself in, the storm outside in the sky and inside your head getting worse and worse every second that ticks by.

Eddie finds you slumped against the small table where your phone rests, the receiver still in your hand, and he knows. He knows something terrible has happened and it doesn’t matter that he’s been anticipating it ever since you told him you’d begun dating that asshole classmate of yours because nothing could have prevented his heart from shattering the moment he sees you.

You’re a lifeless looking doll, devoid of any emotion and feeling. He’d fear you’re actually dead if he couldn’t see your chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweetheart?” he says, lowering himself to where you’re sitting and trying not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” you say, almost surprised when his eyes come into view. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, baby, of course I’m here,” he shuffles closer to you, but still doesn’t touch you.

Eddie swears he can still feel your arms around his neck sometimes, how your hands always used to find his, and how your legs would tangle on the couch all the time. You don’t like to be touched too much these days. He misses your warmth.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Cold.”

“You’re cold? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“NO!”

Your voice rings loud in the quiet apartment, your eyes locking with his in a fiery yet terrified stare. What are you so afraid of? Eddie takes in your appearance and it’s clear that you’ve been crying, though he doesn’t really understand why. He peers into the hallway that leads to your bedroom, searching for answers though he finds none.

“I- I’m sorry… I made a mess,” you explain, deflating once more. “I was upset and the sheets, they… they’re not on the bed anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “We can put them back on.”

You afford him a movement that barely registers as a nod and he thinks he hasn’t seen duller eyes in his entire life, except for when he used to look into the mirror when he was younger. You shouldn’t feel like that, not if he can help it. He raises up onto his knees, still keeping his distance but signaling that it’s time to get up.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“Can… can I get a hug first? Please?” you whisper, your face contorting into a pitiful sight.

Eddie doesn't say anything before he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms shielding you from anything and everything that might be trying to hurt you. He lets you bury yourself into him, lets you crawl underneath his skin and bones, become a part of his very soul and he holds you tighter whenever you exhale another heavy breath.

He waits and waits with his ass turning into ice on the harsh linoleum floor of your kitchenette area, and he doesn’t let go before you do because you once read to him that you should always hug kids until they let go first and he still hasn’t forgotten about it. A booming thunder shakes your windows and Eddie feels as though the storm has moved inside your home. You are no longer a kid, but right now you remind him too much of himself when he first went to live with Wayne, and so he keeps holding you until you pull away first.

"I really needed that, thank you," you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He takes it as a win anyways, because you haven’t smiled in a while and Eddie has always loved your smile.

"You can have as many hugs as you'd like, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a shower while I get your bed ready, huh? You can leave the door open if you want, I’ll be here."

You follow him into your hallway, eyes full of tears at his words. He might be the only person in the world that knows you better than you know yourself, and you don’t take that for granted. You take a hot shower and rub at your skin with your washcloth until it's raw and sensitive and cleansed, and when you come out wrapped in your fluffiest towel Eddie says nothing about the fact that when he walked into your bedroom, he could tell that you’d ripped your bed sheets off the mattress somewhere between a nervous fit and calling him in the middle of the night. There’s a new set, clean and smelling like your favorite fabric softener, and he’s laid out your most comfortable sleepwear at the end of your bed.

Eddie throws your used sheets into the washing machine and gets it started while you get changed, and when you're done you fish out a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt he left behind what feels like eons ago. He thanks you, almost surprised to see you have those clothes and it dawns on you that he doesn’t remember he gave them to you, because you haven't had one of the movie nights where he used to wear them in a while now. When you're both ready for bed, Eddie lifts your covers for you and tucks you in, laying next to you on top of the duvet.

"You can get in if you want," you say, and it's clear you want him to do it.

Eddie thinks he'll never be able to say no to you, so he gets in without you having to ask twice. You are quick to shift closer to him once he gets under the sheets and he takes the hint to put his arms around you, bringing your head to his shoulder and tangling his legs with yours. It’s been ages since he’s held you like this and he’s not going to start complaining about it now - not when you’re right back where you’ve always belonged.

"I have to move out by the end of the month," you mutter, starting to explain the night's events.

"That sucks. You’ve been house hunting yet?"

"No. I found out today and I was hoping Matt would help."

"And he didn't," Eddie says, knowingly.

"He didn't," you confirm. "I asked him to come over earlier because I was upset and he said he’d be here for dinner."

"You cooked?" he hums, petting the back of your head.

"Yeah. I made, uhm, lemon chicken? It wasn't very good."

You've always been a wonderful cook, at least in Eddie's eyes. You don't have a lot of recipes you can whip out from under your belt upon short notice, but the ones you do have are some of his favorites. The chocolate chip cookies he has to hide from Wayne, the chicken noodle soup you bring over when he’s sick, the banana pancakes that always went along with his scrambled eggs and bacon when he used to sleep over. You've never made lemon chicken for him, but you're good at following a cookbook so he thinks it mustn't have turned out inedible.

By now Eddie has learned that "it wasn't very good" means "Matt didn't like it". He doesn’t understand why that piece of shit is dating you if never likes anything you do. Hearing you repeat the things he says to make you feel bad makes your best friend want to dig through your fridge for the leftovers and eat them all just to prove to you that your boyfriend is wrong.

"I think I have to break up with Matt."

Your words make Eddie's head turn. Of all the things you could have said tonight, this was not something he ever imagined. He could have sworn you'd date Matt until he'd decided he'd had enough of you, or you'd marry him and he'd have to sit in the front row watching that fucking guy sap you of your life force for the rest of your days.

Eddie is haunted by the sound of your vacant voice when you'd asked him to come over. At the forefront of his mind he can see it all in loose pieces: the disarray in your bedroom, your obsession with being clean, Matt not being here after you said he’d come over earlier for dinner. He waits for you to paint a clear picture, hoping he won't have to break your boyfriend's nose (or worse) when he sees him around.

"Did he hurt you?" Eddie asks, heart sinking.

"I don't think he likes me anymore," you say, breaking down. Eddie shifts closer and holds you while you shiver. "He, um… he said I can't live with him if I can't find a place before I have to move out of here. A-and when I got upset because I don't want to be fucking homeless during my last semester, he- he tried to distract me with sex."

"What the fuck."

"I t-think he only came o-over ‘cause he wan- he wanted to get laid," you admit between hiccups. "And when he- he couldn't g-get it, he just left.”

"Sweetheart, fuck, I'm so sorry. He's such a fucking asshole," he lets you sob into his arms, the tears coming out of your tired eyes rivalring the downpour outside hitting your windows.

“He- he wouldn’t even hug me. I was crying and he just stood there! He doesn’t care about me being homeless, he- he doesn’t care about me at all!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he says gently, and you want to believe he’s telling the truth but you don’t. You can’t.

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” you try to move away but he follows you, heart chasing after yours.

"What do you mean, baby?" he brushes a tear away from your face as you both sit up.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m just… there’s nothing in here,” you say through your teeth while you grab at your shirt frantically, scaring him with the rough motion. "I feel so empty and I think- I know there's something really wrong with me, Eddie. Something has to be wrong. I’m not normal.”

"Hey, no, no, there's nothing wrong with you," he pulls you into him once more, not letting you run away from him again. "Sweetheart, I promise you, you're- you're not empty, what are you even saying? You're full - you're so full. You're full of love, a-and kindness, and if that son of a bitch is making you feel like you're not full then, I don’t know, dump his ass! He's mean and pathetic, please don't- don't break yourself into a million pieces for someone who doesn't deserve you."

"I don't feel full, Ed."

"That’s okay, we can work on it," Eddie says, confidently. "And I’m not gonna let you be homeless, I swear. You can move in with me until you feel ready to start house hunting!"

"What if I never feel better?"

"Then we’ll live together forever,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you know he means it.

"Ed-"

"Babe. I'm serious. One hundred percent. You can even have my bedroom, I don't care."

"And where are you gonna sleep, huh? Don't be stupid."

"Wayne slept in the living room for like a decade and he's still kicking, I'll survive."

You turn in his arms so you can look at him. Eddie looks back at you with his warm eyes and mischievous smile firmly planted on his face. He’s so special to you. And luckily for him, you've never been able to say no to him either.

"When is your lease over?" you ask, wiping your tears and feeling suddenly determined.

"Uh, after you graduate I think?"

"I’ll move in with you but don't renew it. Let's find a new place."

"Yeah?" Eddie grins. "You wanna be roommates? For real?"

"I think- I think it could be good for me," you raise your hands and squish his cheeks. I think you could be good for me. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

"Me too," he says, gaze softening.

He knows it's not your fault Matt has taken over your life, not when he's conditioned you for the past year to depend on him for everything. Eddie also knows he himself has been the source of many of your fights, and while it hurts to see you cry every time Matt gives you the silent treatment until you apologize for something you didn't do, your adamant refusal to cut your best friend off your life makes him incredibly proud of you.

As much as you've stood up for Eddie throughout your lives, you've never been good at standing up for yourself. He thinks it’s time he starts standing up for you too.

"You, um," Eddie starts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from his cheeks and onto his lap. "You really are gonna break up with him though, right? Because I don't think I can pretend like everything's cool with the guy when he keeps hurting you like this."

"No, I know. I can't keep going like this anymore. There's... there's so much stuff you don't even know, Ed. Sometimes he really scares me," you confess.

"He hasn't, like… hit you or anything, right?" his throat constricts.

"No, but he says things... weird things. He's so mean sometimes,” you huff, finally getting rightfully angry. “He got mad for no reason the other day and said that the only time he felt I loved him was when he got sick and I stayed with him during Spring Break. I spent an entire week taking care of him and then when he gave me the fucking plague, because of course I got it from him, Robin had to take care of me because he was sooo busy."

"He's such a goddamn loser, he totally held you hostage ‘cause you had plans that didn’t involve him for once. I knew he had a problem with us going to Steve's cabin, he’s never liked any of us!”

"Also he says I humiliate him in class because I think I'm smarter than him. Like it’s my fault his grades suck.”

"You are, though," Eddie says, grinning.

“Huh?”

"You are smarter than him. You have always been the smartest of us all."

"No, I’m not,” you scoff. “Nancy was valedictorian."

"Be real, you didn't want that shit anyway."

"No, I really didn't," you giggle softly. "I was too busy running around town with you and Jonathan.”

“Those were the good days,” he snorts. “We totally made Hopper age in dog years.”

After the laughter ends, you two look at each other and know that something has changed tonight. Something that was slowly veering off track got violently course-corrected, and you let yourself feel hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

You’ll go to sleep in Eddie’s arms and wake up to the smell of him frying bacon. You’ll whip your banana pancakes from thin air and you’ll start deciding together what you want to sell, what you’ll put in storage and what you’ll take with you once you move out of your place. You’ll talk about your finals coming up and Eddie’s new job, and he’ll do the dishes while you call Nancy, who’ll call Jonathan, who’ll shake Argyle up, who’ll call Eden, who’ll call and wake up Robin, who’ll yell at a sleepy Steve to get up, who’ll then call you to ask when they should be coming to help you lug all your stuff into Eddie’s van.

And Matt won’t call all weekend, because he doesn’t care about you, but you will never know that because you’ll be getting drunk at Robin and Steve’s while Eden tells you about a two bedroom apartment that a classmate of hers is vacating after graduation, and everyone else will make bets on how long it’s going to take for you and Eddie to notice that you won’t actually need two bedrooms.

But for now, with eyes that hurt from crying and limbs that feel heavy with a tiredness you’ve been carrying for months, you feel a little less empty because you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll always have Eddie by your side.

thank you for reading!

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 6

James Potter x Reader

Summary: Your secret admirer is not so secret anymore…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, idiots in love, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and presents femininely, James is head over heels in love, quiet!reader, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.6K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A cool air occupied the Astronomy Tower, gusts of gentle breeze slipping in and out. A picnic blanket lined the floor, visible under the soft glow of an assortment of candles lit in the room. On it sat a basket of food, sweets, and a bouquet of flowers with your name on it.

It was all going smoothly, in fact, James would argue it was perfect. He had planned this night years ago, making the first date comfortable and private but still a solid display of just how much he’s willing to give you.

Wearing his crisp button down tucked into some black slacks, messy hair somewhat managed with a comb, and a bubbling feeling of nerves and excitement, James stood at the top of the stairs and waited.

The soft press of heels to concrete echoed up the staircase, slowly approaching the top of the tower. You rounded the final corner, immediately beaming at the boy stood waiting for you. Your subtle makeup shined in the candlelight as your dress fit you in all the right ways.

“He’ll go feral when he sees you,” Charlie had joked when you were getting dressed.

She might have been right.

James’ heart caught in his throat, holding out an arm for you to grasp as he escorted you across the short distance to the blanket. “You look so amazing, I mean…you’re just so perfect,” he praised, gaze tracing your figure like he was committing every inch of you to memory. “Thank you, Jamie, so do you,” you grinned in reply, standing close and peering up at the bashful boy in front of you.

He helped you to the ground as he began to pull out an assortment of food and drink. “I knew some of the things you like already, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough…so I kind of just bought the whole of Hog’s Head,” he explained with a nervous laugh, sitting on his knees to reach further into the basket and present even more food.

“Oh, Jamie, I…this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me! And probably the most food anyone’s ever given me as well,” you giggled, glancing around the space in awe at the atmospheric romance.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, I just- Sirius says I’m always such a hopeless romantic,” he rambled bashfully in reply, “I hope you like it, love.”

He started to make you a plate of all your favourite foods, adding a few new dishes too. He poured you some butterbeer before serving himself, rarely looking away from you. His heart was on fire, lit alight by his sheer magnetic attraction to you. He knew his younger self would be beaming to know he actually finally got to sit like this with you, alone with the stars and a candlelit dinner. He was in heaven.

The quiet sounds of eating consumed the room, both of you meeting each other’s gaze at a particularly loud crunch of food under teeth. You both burst out laughing, falling over yourselves as you finally relaxed into the date.

“So, quick question,” James began after finishing half of his plate, “the other night, when we confessed, you said I was surprisingly kind?”

“I did, and you are,” you replied, covering your mouth full of food as you looked at him curiously.

“Well, I was just wondering…why did you find that surprising? Have I ever done anything to make you think otherwise?”

You thought over your answer, swallowing your mouthful. After a beat, you responded. “I suppose I only really knew you for your pranks, outside of classes and common room parties. The early stuff was never concerning, I mean, I found it quite funny the way you’d give bullies a taste of their own medicine. But I suppose as the years went on, and the pranks got harsher, and the targets became more innocent, I started to believe you were sort of…mean.”

James glanced at you with an embarrassed smile. “Oh…right…yeah that makes sense. We, uhh- had our reasons for hexing people, but I suppose it’s been pretty harsh recently…” James was bright red, biting his lip and glancing at the floor. You did the same, resuming eating as the boy’s face cooled down.

“Do you remember that Slytherin boy last year? The one in the year above who tried to chat you up at dinner?” You stopped chewing, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, I do actually…what about him?”

“Well, do you remember his hair turned bright green the next morning…?”

A moment passed in awkward silence. Then, “James! You hexed someone over me!?” Your jaw was slack, and James refused to meet your gaze. “He was being too pushy…besides, I thought you might’ve liked him and, well, I was pretty upset that night. Sirius just decided to…cheer me up,” He explained cautiously.

You snorted, covering your mouth to conceal a laugh. Soon James was laughing too, mostly from relief that you found his infatuation amusing.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A few butterbeers later, you were sitting close and leaning towards each other, whispering about your interests like they were the best kept secrets on earth.

“I didn’t think I really belonged in Gryffindor when I was sorted,” James began, “I thought I wasn’t self-assured enough to fit in. I think over the years I just developed an act of cocky confidence to hide that insecurity.”

You gazed at the boy in affection, basking in similarity. “I thought the exact same thing, though I didn’t show any real bravery until I decided to investigate your little letters this year,” you giggled in reply, “We have so many expectations to live up to under this house. Although, I think it’s the same for every house.”

James hummed in agreement, smiling as he inched slightly closer to you, brushing your hand with his. When you didn’t immediately flinch away and smack him, he moved his hand over yours as you intertwined your fingers with his. You sat in comfortable silence, gazing at each other with shy adoration, before continuing your conversation.

“What do you want to do after school?” You asked, still staring at the boy with a soft blush. “I want to be an Auror, protect the people I love. I’m getting relatively good grades in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I might have to convince my parents that it’s not too dangerous,” he laughed while beaming down at you. You smiled, opening your mouth to respond before-

“I also want to spend my future with you.”

The words came with a dousing of flustered rambling, James forcing himself to hold your gaze despite the growing heat in his face. “I really, really do,” he emphasised.

The Astronomy Tower made the two of you feel like the only people left on Earth, blocking out any other sign of life on the romantic evening. You were lost in thought.

Your breath hitched when you finally noticed how close James was, nervously glancing between your eyes and lips. You mirrored his movements, leaning towards him with a final glance at his eyes, illuminated by a golden glow.

After years of pining, wishing and waiting, he pushed his lips on yours. The kiss started soft and slow as James hesitated the urge to deepen the connection, something you then initiated. Your lips locked with his in a firm display of passion and affection, hands moving to his hair and reversing the hard work of his comb. His hands trailed down your sides to rest on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

James hummed against your lips, forcing a smile down as to not break the kiss. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, the taste of butterbeer lingering as your lips melted against each other.

After what felt like hours, you finally parted to take a breath. James was bright red and grinning ear to ear, glasses askew on the tip of his nose and hair messier than ever. He pushed up his glasses before returning his hand to your waist, looking down at you as if you were the solution to eternal happiness.

The goofy expression finally melted off of his face, now staring at you with a lovestruck glint in his eye and a soft smile as he drew little patterns on your waist with his fingers.

Silently, you both laid back against the blanket, staring at the stars that were scattered across the sky.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

After an hour of whispering sweet nothings under the night sky, lying on James’ chest as he rubbed soothing circles into your back with the palm of his hand, he sat up with a grunt.

You were drunk on the feeling of stolen kisses and sweet talk, gazing hazily at Gryffindor’s head boy as he reached into the picnic basket.

From the woven wood emerged a baby blue envelope, your name scrawled on the front in that familiar, boyish hand.

You joined him in sitting up from the blanket as he held the letter out to you, along with the bouquet he had bought especially for this moment.

You stared curiously at the letter, plucking it from his hands and placing the bouquet in your lap, quietly thanking him for the gesture.

You carefully peeled open the letter, peering into its depth. Pulling your final love letter from its fold, you slowly laid the page open.

“Be mine?

- Forever yours, J.P.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: YAYYYYYY!!! I’m planning on writing one more chapter about these two during the early years, before wrapping it up with some fluffy relationship goodness <3 I’m also starting one for James fic and a few miscellaneous characters!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List: @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @caspiankingofnarnia @thesuitelifeofafangirl @moonydoodlez @fionnalopez @kawaiiarbitervoid @kc2sstuff @rafeyswrd @mads12043 @spicybearnaise @ch3rry-vine @probabydeadbynow @ilovejamespottersomuch @mqg125 @sofiacblair @valenftcrush @revesephemeres @louweenier @the-lavender-girl

[nofingjustaninchident]

jason grace general headcannons

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⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace hcs

warnings: nothing!!

a/n: i’m back from the dead!!!! i know, i know that i just write for my boy, but trust im writing one of these for all of my boys. i just don’t know when im gonna post it. byeee

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

He’s always losing his glasses, like 24/7. They just sleep in the nightstand and in the morning they’re not there anymore.

His love languages are acts of service and quality time, but he LOOOOVES physical touch.

He’s really good in english, but he has a little bit of trouble with maths (roman numbers and all)

He doesn’t understand gen-Z jokes

He has no clue on how to use a cellphone/computer/tv/anything technological

He loves to play football

He’s completely clueless about the people that have a crush on him. Like, he never ever notices.

He’s super romantic, but he’ll never ever admit it

He’s an ass guy. Prove me wrong.

He absolutely loves when you want to make cute hairstyles in his hair.

He’ll give you all of his hoodies

He smells like roses and sandalwood.

He wakes up at 4 am every day. The only days when he wakes up later is when he’s sleeping with his s/o

He’s a cuddler, and obviously the big spoon.

He’s not one to get into fights, but if someone says anything about his friends, he’ll kill that person.

He’s extremely loyal to his friends and family.

He’s super powerful, and, if he explores more of his powers, he’d discover that he can control the air in people’s lungs and he’d be terrifying.

He used to be very insecure with himself when he was younger, and that made him work out till he got all buff and hot and tall.

He loves laughing with Percy and Leo and just chilling together with his mates

He spends a lot of time with Frank helping him with all this praetor thing.

He and Reyna were never back to being close friends, and he got constantly sad over this.

He got constant anxiety crisis and panicked attacks

Sometimes he doesn’t realize how tall he is compared to other people like Nico, so it’s super fun to watch him smirking when he doesn’t want Nico to get something and he just puts it in a higher spot.

He’s the biggest Solangelo shipper in the whole damn camp.

He’s the president of the ‘Protect Nico Di-Angelo’ club.

He loves loves LOVES kids, and he’d be the best dad ever.

He loves when Percy calls him to go to Sally’s house, cause he can play with Estelle.

He hates when any of his friends get mistreated.

He doesn’t have much personal stuff in the Zeus cabin, but he does have a plushie, and it’s a little eagle that he named Sparkles.

He’s not much of a crier now, but he did cry a lot when he was a kid.

He loves sleepovers.

He’s a great cook, since Leo taught him.

He loves baking cakes for his friends and family

His favorite dessert is brownies, especially when it has that crunchy part in it.

He’s absolutely terrified of dentists.

He’s also a little claustrophobic.

He loves having an arm around you whenever you’re talking.

He’s not super jealous, but he’s a little insecure with some stuff or people.

He’s the softest boy of all. Literally the cutest ever.

[mellifiedprincess]

GOT MY FIRST MATT REQUEST😝 this is angsty to fluff, so be warned. i got kind of carried away and don’t have anyone to proofread my writing so sorry if this actually sucks ass.

“I’m gonna be working 16 hours again today, so I won’t be home until late.” You can feel the annoyance from your boyfriend before you even turn around. Matt absolutely hated when you worked long shifts like that, but he also knew you loved your job as a peds nurse. Still. He hated the hours. He hated how tired you were after work, all because you would pick up everyone else’s slack.

“Again? Baby-“ He stops himself, watching you pull the baby pink scrub top over your head. You can only laugh softly at his expression. “That’s the 3rd one this week.”

“I know, but I Lisa asked me to cover part of her shift. She’s always been super nice to me.”

That was one of the things Matt loved and hated about you, you were too nice. Always doing for others, never for yourself. And he worried you were gonna burn out.

He places his hands on your cheeks, placing a kiss to your slightly squished lips. “You’ve barely slept baby. You haven’t had anything to eat. You’re barely a person right now.”

“Matt, please don’t do this right now. I’m gonna be late.” You watch as he rolls his eyes, stepping away from you as you gather the rest of your things. “I know you’re just worried about me, but don’t be. I’m fine!”

“Just please text me and let me know you made it to the hospital okay, and let me know when you’re on the way home. Just so I know you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.” He reaches out for you, and you greedily fall into his embrace. “I will. I love you, okay.” You place a soft kiss to his lips and smile sweetly. “I love you more baby.”

And with that you leave.

You kept your word of texting Matt and letting him know you made it to the hospital safely. Even sending him a cute little selfie of you blowing him a kiss.

But when he saw it was almost 45 minutes past the time you should have been home, he felt a pit of anxiety form in his stomach.

He immediately ended the game of fortnite he was playing, and grabbed his phone wasting no time in calling you.

No answer.

So he tried again. And again. And again.

No answer. So he calls the floor of the hospital you work on. Only for the nurse on the phone tell him, you left almost an hour ago.

Kid was shitting bricks he was so scared.

“Nick!” At the sound of Matt’s terrified voice, the older brother of the triplets rushes into his room. “What?” Nick asks as he watches a frantic Matt put his shoes on. “I need you and Chris to take the other car and help me look for Y/N.” This only confuses Nick more.

“Isn’t she at work? And we can’t drive without our-“ “She’s not answering her phone. She left work almost an hour ago. She should have been back by now!” Matt cuts Nick off, trying his best not to break down.

Next to his brothers, you were the most important person in Matt’s life. The thought of anything happening to you made his want to throw up.

“You need to breathe before you pass out. Y/N is fine Matt, she’s gonna be okay.” Nick rubs comforting circles on his back, trying his best to calm his younger brother down.

“Maybe she fell asleep in the parking lot.”

You were not in the hospital parking lot when Matt arrived, only making his anxiety worse. “She’s not here!” He tells his brothers who are on the phone with him as they drive around the city in search of you.

“Chris is gonna take me back home, in case she shows up, but he’s gonna keep looking.”

Matt was barely listening anymore, because as he turned to get back on the highway he sees your car. And when he looks closer, he sees you in it. Asleep.

“I just found her and I’m going to kill her, right after I tell her how much I love her.” “Is she okay?” Chris asks.

“She fell asleep in her car. She’s fine.” Matt hangs up after that. He was relieved to say the least, but so furious with your stupidity.

As he gets out of his car and walks up to your window, he allows himself to take a minute to actually breathe.

You’re startled out of your sleep to a tap on your window, looking up you meet the eyes of your very angry looking boyfriend.

As soon as you unlock the door, he’s pulling it open and unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m so sorry-“ He cuts you off by pulling you into his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours.

“Do you have any idea how fucking worried we were?” You begin to gnaw at the inside of your cheek, the feeling of guilt all consuming your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I was falling asleep.”

“I need you to realize how stupid and dangerous that was. We’re not in Maine or Utah, baby. We’re in LA. You know from working in a hospital how dangerous it is here.” He knows he should be a little more cautious with his words, but fuck he was scared.

“I’m sorry. I closed my eyes for two seconds! I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Matt stops himself from berating you anymore, knowing you probably feel guilty enough. “Just- go get in the car. I’ll grab your things.” “I can’t leave my car here-“ You don’t even finish your sentence at the look Matt gives you.

You get in the passenger seat of his car and watch as he grabs your things, and double checks that your car is locked, before settling in the drivers seat.

“I need you to really listen to me when I say this.” You turn in your seat to face him, his hand reaching for yours. To comfort you or himself, he’s not too sure at this point.

“The next time you even think there’s a possibility of you falling asleep like that, I’m talking you yawn for 2 seconds longer than usual, you better call me. I don’t care what time it is. I love you and you scared the hell out of me tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Matty. I love you and promise I’ll never do anything like that again.” He smiles softly, and places a delicate kiss to your palm.

Now that you’ve faced the repercussions of Matt, you spent the drive home preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture to come from the one and only Nicolas Sturniolo.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[quinnysnursery]

could you write something with reader and cg!Matt where she has accidentally hurt herself (broken bone or something) and it triggers her (abusive household filled with times she has broken bones in the past) to regress to an age of around 2 or 3 and she's terrified to regress while at the hospital and then eventually she's still regressed while Matt takes her home and then maybe its just super fluffy and cute and with lots of physical touch and nicknames?

[🩹] sticks and stones can break my bones, but you would never hurt me | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!matt sturniolo x fem!little!reader

summary : an unfortunate incident leaves you and your caregiver struggling with the ghosts of your past

warning/extra tid-bits : ANGST FOLLOWED BY FLUFF, injuries, blood, stitches, talk of abusive/neglectful childhood, hospital trips, matt and y/n are dating outside of regression- this does not make age regression nsfw, ptsd, i think that's all!! plz let me know if there is anymore!!

word count : 1,979 + not proofread

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (line from @mikeykuns)

a/n : kinda strayed from the request just a bit but i hope you still enjoy it :)

Matt cursed under his breath as he slammed his foot on the gas- much too full of adrenaline to care about traffic laws. 

Your cries and sniffles echoed throughout the car, your shoulders racking as you attempted to muffle your cries.

He’d been preoccupied on something that, in hindsight, was not important at all. Blissfully unaware of his little’s attempt to cut an apple in the kitchen. He felt absolutely terrible- like he was the scum of all caregivers. 

Beside him in the passenger seat, you were trying to focus on keeping the dish cloth wrapped tightly around your bleeding hand. Your caregiver was talking, but you couldn’t hear him- flashbacks of your childhood had already wrapped around your brain, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

Your childhood was far from a happy one; filled with constant yelling, crying and on occasion, injuries. 

It wasn’t rare that your younger self got into something you shouldn’t- whether that be by climbing a tree to escape your screaming parents or accidentally burning yourself while attempting to make dinner for you and your younger siblings.

It was safe to say you’d had your fair share of hospital visits in your youth. It’d been years since you had to be driven to the emergency room, it wasn’t really something you, or anyone, enjoyed.

Now though, you were sitting in the passenger seat of Matt’s van with a blood-stained dishcloth wrapped tightly around your hand. You’d asked Matt to slice up an apple, but he’d responded with a simple “in a moment.”

To anybody else, it would’ve been easy to wait but you had been regressed in the moment and it was not easy to wait. Nor did your regressed-self believe it would be a “moment”. Your parents had always said they’d cook dinner, “in a moment”- only to fall asleep and leave you and your siblings hungry.

The injury occurred when you, in the haze of littlespace, had decided you could slice your own apple. The pulsing pain in your hand tauntingly reminded you that you could not.

God, you were such an idiot. You knew Matt was better than your parents, that’s the whole reason you entrusted him with the responsibility of being your caregiver. If you had just listened, you wouldn’t be in this position right now. 

You still couldn’t process what Matt was saying, but in the midst of trauma-response plagued thoughts; you spoke. 

“I’m sorry, I…I don’t even know what I was thinking.” You stammered, voice hoarse from crying. Matt furrowed his brows as he exited the freeway, turning to face you for a split second.

“What?” He asked, baffled at the fact you were sorry. He was sorry! He was the one who’d neglected his responsibilities as a caregiver for some stupid social media thing.

“I’m sorry. I…I know it was…it was a stupid thing to do.” You admitted, fresh hot tears burning your eyes- the sensory only adds to the stinging pain from the injury on your hand. 

Matt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He hadn’t just met you yesterday, of course he knew of your past and the habits you still carried from your trauma- but it had been months since you apologized for something that was so blatantly not your fault.

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad.” Matt said, his words continuing to fall on deaf ears. 

The brunette man didn’t have much time to continue to reassure you, as he’d just pulled into the nearest parking spot he could in front of the emergency room.

Matt jumped out of the van, rushing over to your side door and helping you out. His heart broke at how lifeless you appeared. There were no small smiles, no commenting on the flowers planted outside the emergency room- nothing.

Just you, shuffling beside Matt trying to make yourself as quiet as possible.

It broke him that he’d caused this for you. If he’d simply held off on trying to find photos for Nick’s stupid photo dump, you’d be happily at home munching away on your apple slices.

“Sir?” The receptionist asked, snapping Matt out of his self-pitying thoughts. “She uhm- she…she needs stitches.” Matt explained, motioning to the dish towel he’d panicky-wrapped around your hand before rushing you into the car.

The receptionist nodded diligently, asking for your name and Matt’s relation to you. 

“Y/n L/n…and he’s my boyfriend.” You spoke up, earning another nod. Matt anxiously looked around, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“You two can follow Nurse Buckley to an exam room,” The receptionist pointed to a female nurse dressed in sage-green scrubs, smiling toothily at the couple.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’ll get you stitched up in no time.” Nurse Buckley promised, leading you two to a secluded exam room- Matt helped you onto the uncomfortable bed, you mumbled out a “thanks”.

You weren’t mad at him, not at all. It had been your own stupid decision to attempt welding a knife while regressed, not Matt’s. You didn’t really understand why you felt so…small.

Not in the regression way though, you wouldn’t dare regress in a hospital- terrified of what your little-self would think. 

You felt small in a completely different sense, like your words carried little weight on the world. Despite Nurse Buckley and Matt being in the room with you, you felt shunned away from everyone.

It was then that it dawned on you, you’d triggered some sort of PTSD haze. A trauma response.

Sadly, the realization didn’t fix it- it only made you feel deeper shame. 

“Y/n?” Nurse Buckley called out, grasping your attention. “D’you feel okay hun? You don’t appear to have lost too much blood but if you feel dizzy-” 

You shook your head, “I don’t like hospitals.” You told the nurse, earning an understanding nod. “I understand.” Nurse Buckley looked towards Matt before meeting your eyes once again, “If you want your boyfriend to sit with you on the bed, I won’t tell.” She smiled cheekily.

You flashed her a small inauthentic smile. Matt noticed- the nurse didn’t.

“I’ll be right back, need to grab gloves.” Nurse Buckley told Matt, who nodded.

After the nurse left the room, Matt went straight back to apologizing.

“Hey…baby, look at me.” Matt cooed, carefully sitting in front of you on the stiff hospital bed. Your eyes shot up to meet Matt’s, you hated that.

That wasn’t how you behaved around Matt. With Matt you were playful and softhearted- right now, your stupid brain was forcing you to act like a scared child.

“Can you take a breath for me? You’re shaking.” The brunette boy’s voice was soft as silk as he brushed his fingertips against your tear-stained cheek. Those words broke the dam. 

Your face wrinkled up as you began crying once more, painful memories playing on repeat in the back of your mind. 

Matt’s heart broke for you, “Oh sweetheart…can I hug you?” He asked, you nodded quickly- wanting nothing more than for this awful haze to go away. As soon as permission was given, Matt’s arms wrapped around you tightly- careful to avoid your injured hand.

Your caregiver shushed you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I know, this must be so scary for you- right?” Matt cooed, you nodded into his neck. 

The fact your brain had decided to cope with a scary-situation in an unhealthy way combined with Matt’s soothing touch and voice, you felt a familiar safe, fuzzy, headspace lingering near. 

No.

You couldn’t regress. Not in a hospital. Maybe you would consider it if your littlespace wasn’t as young as it was- but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

Matt had been your caregiver for the better half of a year and in that year, he’d come to recognize the signs of an upcoming regression. The way you melted into a hug like a small child would, how you hid your face deeper into the crook of his neck- trying to bury yourself into his skin. 

“Feelin’ tiny?” Matt asked, lowering his already soft voice. You shook your head, trying to convince yourself that you weren’t. Matt frowned, pulling away from the hug and gently lifting your chin to make your eyes meet his.

“Sweetheart…what’s goin’ on? It’s okay to be tiny, I’ll keep you safe.” Your carer cooed, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. You whined, feeling the fuzziness grow over your mind more. 

“Alright! Let’s get you sewn up and on your way!” Nurse Buckley’s words washed a whole new wave of anxiety over you.

The stitches were not a fun experience. Even if Nurse Buckley had given you a local anesthetic, just the thought of a needle going in and out your skin was enough to make you bury your face into Matt’s sweater. 

Now though, you were both home with strict instructions to “take it easy”. 

And take it easy you would, because you were currently sitting atop the couch- various fluffy blankets surrounding you as Gravity Falls played on the television. 

You smiled gently- feeling much better than you had earlier- as Matt came back to the living room, a small pink bowl full of apple slices. Your heart warmed as the sight, eyes watering with love.

“Hey…what’s going on?” Matt asked, quickly setting the small bowl onto the coffee table and crouching in front of you. You shook your head, wiping your eyes with your uninjured hand. Matt frowned softly, still feeling guilty from the incidents that took place earlier in the day.

“Do you not want apples anymore? I…I can get you something else? Or, order something?” Matt offered frantically, causing you to shake your head once again. “No…Matt this is…you’re so sweet.” Your voice broke as you launch yourself into your carer’s arms, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

Matt sat in shock for a moment before latching onto you, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head. 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve cut up the apple when you asked.” Matt said, ashamed of his actions. You furrow your brows, pulling away from the hug- “What? No, I’m sorry. It…it was a stupid decision.” You said, ashamed of your actions.

Matt’s brows mimicked yours, knitting together in confusion. “No. I’m…I’m your caregiver, I’m supposed to look after you and I failed that. I’m sorry.” Matt explained firmly.

You smiled at your caregiver, feeling the scared little girl inside of you heal.

Matt pulled you back into a hug, running a reassuring hand up and down your back. You felt the familiar fuzzy feeling from earlier return, but this time- you were more than happy to welcome it, especially after this stressful day.

Matt realized this instantly, his smile growing. “C’mon sweet girl, I think this show is too big for you.” The brunette cooed, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table and finding a much more age appropriate cartoon for you. 

You hummed excitedly, resting against your caregiver’s chest- eyes heavy with sleep. 

Matt hummed along to the theme-song of the cartoon, earning soft giggles from you. The two of you sat tangled together, a pile of fluffy blankets keeping both of you cozy, warm and safe.

You whined softly, rubbing your tired eyes with a balled fist. Matt cooed softly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head- pulling you closer. 

“How’s your hand feeling?” Matt asked, earning a soft shrug from you. You lifted up your hand, pout on your lips.

“Dada ‘ss it.” You murmured, giving your caregiver your award-winning puppy dog eyes. Matt’s lips curled upwards at your words, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand- hoping his caregiver-magic would help the wound heal faster.

“I’m really sorry sweet girl,” Matt apologized for a final time. You thought for a moment before snuggling further into Matt’s chest, “...’s okay. Still’da best dada ever.” You smiled.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @babybatxxx @ivysturnss

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @flow3rsturns13

@pkfferoo @pixxiies @mattsturnswhore @17welch17 @pinksikhewei

@v33angel @conspiracy-ash @hoes4matthew @elislytherpuffsturn

@mattsturnsgirlie

[netherfeildren]

With Mercy for the Disturbed

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: AU; Dubious Consent; Dark Fic; Doctor/Patient Relationship; Forced Orgasm; Rough Sex; Face fucking; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Bondage; Power Imbalance; Exploration of Power Dynamics; Unreliable Narrator; Memory loss; Blasphemy; Discussions of religious disdain; Discussions of morality; References to suicide; Beware of the old man who’s crazy and lets all his intrusive thoughts win; Older man/Younger woman; Creampie; Light breeding kink; Like very light for the likes of me promise; Possessive Behavior; Kidnapping; Joel POV

A/N: Hello and hallelujah, I’m so happy to be posting this!! For a minute after I finished Pink I felt like it would be impossible for me to write anything else ever again, and felt so weird and without anything left to say.  I struggled so much just getting these words down, and it was supposed to be something very different initially compared to what it turned out to be, but I think I quite like the final product. I hope you do too. 

And one million kisses and thank yous and all the praise in the world to @frannyzooey for giving this a little looksy over before posting. You’re the greatest and the bestest, Kelli, thank you so so much :)

Please heed the tags carefully and err on the side of caution!!! The goings on in this are very strange and this is probably the darkest thing I’ve written to date. 

Word Count: 8.8K

Read on AO3

He can’t remember her name anymore, but he remembers the number. It’s been seven hundred and thirty eight days since his daughter died. 

Sometimes, he’s not sure if he even remembers his own name. He thinks it’s Joel, and the sound of it brings him comfort in a way, when it’s especially dark and confusing in his mind, and so he tells himself over and over again that that’s what it is. Joel. Joel. Joel. I am Joel. That that’s what it’s always been. That that’s the name she knew him as. 

Sometimes you call him that too.

He used to be a father, and then one day, so suddenly he can’t recall how it even happened, he lost everything. Like dominos falling over in his mind – the girl, and then his memories and then the man with the face like his. He plays dominos all the time now. 

In his spot in the sun in the big blue room, wearing his whites and his soft socks and taking the pills they force down his throat. He plays dominos, and he does his exercises, and he thinks of that daughter whose name he can’t remember. He says his own name over and over and over again so many times until it’s not even a sound anymore, only a buzz or a hum or a scream. 

His beard is thick and his hair is long, and he does not recognize his own face in the mirror. All he sees are ghost green eyes and dark hair and a fathomless sort of failure. A father, no longer a father. He goes for walks in the garden, he eats the food they give him even when he doesn’t really want to, even when it tastes like ash or greater madness than the one he’s already swallowed. And he waits for you. All the time he waits for you to come to him, he watches the big doors that go out into the world he’s too frightened and broken to step foot in now, draws his fingertip over the gristle of scar tissue at his temple mended over invisible fracture, and he waits and waits, and he says his name and he thinks of that nameless daughter and he waits and he thinks: the morning after I killed myself, I woke up in the perfect place with the perfect white walls and now all I do is wait. 

He sits in his chair in the corner now and counts the seconds for you to come for him. Always at this time, always when the sun is at that spot in the sky. When it rains, and he can't tell where he is in the world, and the clouds are swollen purple gray verging on melancholy and anger, he feels something like despairing. Something like the sort of insane they whisper he is behind his back now.

He watches the puddles filled with dark mercury grow and grow like the ocean rising out of concrete, and the orange tree that drips and weeps and sags and he thinks he feels very much that way inside too. Sometimes, when the sun shines and there are no clouds and he doesn’t feel so terribly downtrodden, or maybe worse than usual, each orange blossom opens like a hand reaching out for him. Begging him not to do it, not to think of it, not to go back to that bad place. Focus only on me, she says. Focus only on the blue walls and the perfect room and the place where the sun sits in the sky, she’s on her way, she’s almost here. 

The first time they’d told him he was ill – or dead – the first morning in the perfect room, he’d been angry, affronted or offended, and he’d howled and fought and said I’m not fucking crazy, it’s only that my daughter is dead. But as much as he’d fought or kicked or screamed, wept until he was brittle and dry as a whale bone, they’d not believed him. And so, he’d come to appreciate the peace of the perfection surrounding him, the perfection of a lie, or the perfection that comes to visit him in the shape of a woman, soft and round in all the right places and pretty. Fuckable. He tries not to think of it. He swears he does. But there’s little else to consider in the perfect place. So really, he thinks of little else. 

You’re almost here, he knows it’s almost time.

A few more moments of the sun in the place where it is until it’s in the place where it should be, and then you’ll be here, and he looks down at the stone in his palm, held for so long it’s turned dark with his sweat now. I shouldn’t have, but I brought you something, placed it in his hand, done that thing with your eyes and your mouth that told him secrets he wasn’t sure you were even aware you were telling him. 

He knows that it’s November now because you’d said it was, and he doesn’t know why, but when you’d told him, he’d wept and wept and wept. Become inconsolable which had sent you to worrying, put the different sort of look on your face, in your eyes, the one that vibrates, that screams instead of whispers. And he’s positive you don’t know you show him that one, but he sees it anyways, you’ve got a shit poker face. And he’d told you between sobs and chokes, it’s November and it’s terrible and I can’t explain why except to say that it’s as though the earth has suddenly realized that she’s grown old and cold and there’s nothin’ she can do to prevent it except weep, and I feel very much like this in my own heart too. And when he looks back up at the sun, it’s finally where it’s supposed to be, and when he looks back at the double doors that lead away to all his fears and all the bad, there you are. You walk towards him slow and measured, and you’re perfect, perfect, perfect. Precious, impeccable, absolutely exceptional in every way. He wants very much to ruin all that pure magnificence. 

He knows that he did something very bad after his daughter, after they took her, lots of very bad things to lots of very bad people. He knows this, he remembers this vividly, enjoys the memory of it, savors it like something sitting sweet and light on his tongue. 

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love with the idea of a girl who was gone who’d come from me who is never going to be again. Who I never made enough time for when there was still time to be made.

You always wear beautiful clothes, and it makes him appreciate the blandness of his own. That you stand out, that he’s merely a blank canvas for you to inflict yourself on. Wool skirts and silk blouses and sheer pantyhose he wants to rip to ribbons with his fingers. Makes him appreciate the beauty of you, faultless, guileless. Sweet in a way he’d never witnessed before like a kitten that’s so adorable you want to squeeze and squeeze and smother until it bursts. Big eyes and a full, soft mouth and breathy voice, and then you’re right there.“Hi, Joel,” and yeah, that’s right, he does know his name, you remind him of it all the time.  

“Mornin’.”

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

The room you usually sit in to talk has a big painting of a field in it, a bear in the far off center up on its hind legs, somehow, appearing as if it’s dancing away. Even the paintings are mad here, but he likes it, wants to dance away into the far off unknown like that too. 

“The middle of the day’s not the best time for fishin’ usually.” Sometimes, you let him start where he wants. Silent until he chooses to break. He pulls the thought out of nowhere. “Bein’ out there’s just the excuse, I suspect, in the sun and the water.” 

He listens to the scratch, scratch of your pen. You write with one of those fountain types with the sharp point, and he wonders if you’ve ever considered how easily he could turn it into a weapon. How smoothly it’d pierce the soft, satin skin of your throat he likes to fantasize about. He would never. But he does like to think about it, pretends it’s a show of your trust, wonders if the guards and higher ups know you bring something like that in here with him. Scratch, scratch, scratch, and it makes his brain itch. 

“You used to fish?”

“Think so.”

“Are you remembering?”

“Nah.” The morning after I killed myself, I lost my memories – it’s only that they’d hurt everywhere I’d touched them, and so I’d had to let them go.

“No?” 

You’ve got the loveliest voice, and sometimes he wishes he could tell you to stop asking so many stupid questions about him and talk about yourself. Endlessly. He chooses a new route. “What is it about empathy that people find so difficult to be generous with?”

That soft hum in your throat he loves, the one he feels soothe that itchy brain of his. “Humans can be inherently selfish. We’re born with only ourselves, we die with only ourselves, sometimes that gets in our way.”

“No… Don’t think that’s true.”

“No?” He knows you like to lead him sometimes, like a game he doesn’t want to enjoy. “You’re the one saying we’re greedy with our empathy.”

“Forgiveness too,” he adds.

The click of your tongue, “Do you think you’re forgiving?”

“Not at all.”

Scratch, scratch. Once he’d asked what it is you write about him during these talks of yours, and all you’d said was notes. It’s the only time he’s ever been angry with you, refused to talk to you for three days after that. Only because if you wouldn’t tell him things, then he wasn’t going to tell you anything either. “Then what’s the point you’re trying to make? What’s your question?” But then he’d missed the sound of your voice too much, had felt the burn of your gaze on his skin too intensely, had masturbated too many times without satisfaction to the memory of your eyes on him that he’d been forced to relent. He needed the sound of your voice in his head also to be able to come. 

“Why is it so difficult?” He asks again because he has to understand. Because he needs an answer desperately. 

“It’s hard to see someone as simply themselves, simply human – a sentient flaw, so to speak – when they make a mistake. And yet, as grievous or offensive as something can be, we all do it eventually. Some people have no patience for that.”

“Even though they themselves will eventually, inevitably, do it too?” He can feel himself getting upset, his heart beating too fast, a cold sweat sprouting at the back of his neck while his face flushes hot and red. 

“Yes.”

“That’s bad.”

You shrug, “Perhaps.”

“Selfish.”

Again, “Perhaps.”

And then the true source of his anger, “I think I’m like that.”

You nod like you understand, and he wants to shake you and make you see that there’s no way you actually could. “Would you like not to be?” It pisses him off when your voice goes all even and patient like that. 

“Yes. I hate people like that. I hate people that can’t find it in themselves to forgive – to give someone a second chance.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He can’t help himself when he vomits the words, not fully expecting them to come out so slicked in truth as they do. “Because I wish someone would give me one, even if I don’t deserve it. F– forgive me– But even then… what does it matter? What does it matter if I’m forgiven, given a second chance, absolved of all my sins? Look at where I am. Look at what I've become. I’m entirely lost to myself. You know, sometimes I can’t remember my own name if you don’t remind me of it.”

“You’re Joel. You had a daughter. Her name was Sarah.” He flinches at the sound of it, wants to bare his teeth at you like a rabid animal. “Your brother is Tommy. He calls every Friday at three o’clock to ask how you are. You’re Joel Miller.” That’s right. The morning after I killed myself, I met my brother for the first time. The real him. The him who’s afraid of me. The real Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Sometimes the name rings familiar in his mind, again, when you remind him of it.

He shakes his head, swallows a gruff sound, tries to shutter the manic look he knows floods his eyes, reverts back to his initial thought, “False senses of moral superiority disgust me.” The sun’s shining in at an angle so that there’s a single tendril of sunlight wrapped around the slim of your crossed ankle, gripping the nylon covered limb in its light. Joel’s eyes shift jealously from that held piece of you to the shadow of far off rain he can see in the distance through the window, trying to find some measure of peace in the sight. It’ll reach here eventually, and he tries to ground himself in the inevitability. “Yes, there’s right and wrong. There’s also humanity. There’s also the right to grow and learn, and to make mistakes that, in the end, make you better. Who are you to condemn me? Is your glass house so pristine not a stain mars it? Grace, forgiveness, empathy… I find those infinitely more valuable than whatever false sense of good and bad you’ve decided makes me worthy or not,” he says, eyes cast towards the coming rain. He can feel your gaze on his face, and he does not want to acknowledge it. 

“But the things you did were bad, Joel. You hurt people. You killed people.” 

That makes his eyes snap back to yours for the way you say it. As if you’re sharing a bit of inconsequential news with him. The weather is about to hit, the rain is almost here. Can’t you see it, just there, in the distance? Voice so even and soft. Sometimes he calls you angel, when he knows he’s charmed you enough just to get away with it, when he’s said all the things he knows you want to hear from him and smiled all the right smiles that cost him so much. Voice like a goddamn angel, face like a goddamn angel. Everything else… like something come straight from Hell to drag him down to where he really belongs and never let him go. 

He eyes you suspiciously. “The Bible says an eye for an eye. They killed my daughter so I took their eyes.” And then other parts.

“And then their lives…” And then their lives. He nods once, succinct. “You ascribe to the scripture?” You snap that little leather bound book open again, red, scratch in it once again, all your secrets about him. That itch returns, stronger than before. He bites down on it, chews it away within himself. 

“What? Like I believe in it? Fuck no. Fuck religion. It isn’t real. A weak construct made for weak men in need of comfort. And– and… like what – it’s going to save my soul? I ate that a long time ago, angel. Look at where I am…” He shrugs, letting his head fall back in a circular motion, coming to rest on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, he knows you hate it when he gets like this, all ornery and heretical. 

You purse your lips, shake your head at him gently, and he wants to eat the lipstick from your soft mouth. “You believe in angels though… you call me–”

His smile cranks up another notch for a single beat. “Gotta believe in somethin’ that’s right in front of my eyes, don’t I? What d’ya think, that’m crazy?” And his eyes slide to the window again, smile melting off his face. “‘Sides they told me so–” 

“Who told you what?” Voice slow, measured, all serious-like. He rolls his eyes, feels the stone of anger in his belly heat, spin, jump to his throat. 

“They killed my daughter,” he spits like a whispered scream instead. The shadow of rain is closer. If the dancing bear were out there, it’d be lost to the deluge by now. “I should’ve done worse. I would have, had I not been thrown away in here.” He remembers that a man with a face like his left him here, but he doesn’t know who. He shakes his head, jostles the non-memory out of his ears, searches harder for the dancing bear, killed a bunch’a people, he murmurs to himself, once more again, because he likes the sound of it.

“So you’re talking about yourself. You want to be forgiven.” He doesn’t like when you tell him, when you don’t ask. It makes him feel like you know something he doesn’t, and he wants to know everything you know. 

“No. I don’t know.”

“Do you feel thrown away, Joel?”

“I feel forgotten – impossible to remember,” his voice cracks at the end, eyes suddenly wet and hot.

“By who?”

“The world.” He can’t remember his childhood. He can’t remember what he was like as a child, and it makes him sad. 

You’re quiet for a long time, no more scratch, scratch, scratch, no more itch. No more angel voice, and then, very soft, like you know you shouldn’t. “I remember you. I haven’t forgotten you.” 

Once, a time ago because he can’t discern lengths of it anymore, it doesn't exist here in the perfect place, amidst what, he thinks, is a lot that you know you shouldn’t have allowed, you’d changed the routine up on him. Had sent for him, instead of coming for him yourself. When he’d stepped into the room where you have your talks, you’d been facing the big window, looking out at the green, the line of your shoulders and the dip of your waist and the swell of your ass in your skirt that shifts like water around your knees and the saliva pooling heavy in his mouth, it’d been too much, too much for a broken thing, and you hadn’t turned. Like the pen, like more trust, you hadn’t turned to face him even though he knew you’d heard the door snick shut behind him. He’d stepped as quiet as he could up behind you, quiet like when he was sneaking to kill, and he’d brushed a single tip of his finger up the length of one of your skinny, little ones, so much smaller and finer than his thick, brutish ones, stroked the palm of your hand. You’d made the tiniest sound, interrupted by a swallow, but he’d heard it. He’d heard the want in it. He’d not forgotten either, and he sees that sound in your eyes now, again, as you stare at him with an intention he’s not so fucking crazy that he doesn’t know you shouldn’t possess. 

He smiles a little again, and you don’t return it, but it’s okay, he sees the sound of your want in your eyes anyways, and that’s infinitely more satisfying to him. “It would serve us all well to remember to try to be a little more empathetic, a little more forgiving.”

You swallow, shaken, he can tell. Shaken by that thing inside you for him he knows shouldn’t be there. You scratch a little in the book, say slowly, “It starts with you, I think, you have to forgive yourself first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. There are things you talk about you clearly have no understanding of. You’re young. You don’t know better. He understands. “I think… I think, I haven’t been myself lately.”

“Who have you been?”

And again, he doesn’t mean to say it, but you tell him so much you don’t mean to say either that he feels he might as well also. “Someone–” That anger again, he can’t help himself even though he desperately wants to. “Someone my daughter would be afraid of.” Full blown rage now. At you. Yes, at you. You force things from him he doesn’t want to give you, and there’s a thing within him that wants to punish you for it, take a pound of flesh in repayment. “I want someone to forgive me. I want to be forgiven. I want to experience it.” Truth is like fire, hypnotizing, seductive, once it catches, inextinguishable. He wants to hate you sometimes for forcing these things from him, for not giving him a choice, and worst of all, done so unintentionally, unknowingly. He wants to not give you a choice either. 

“From who?” You ask. Silly little girl. You need to learn the art of restraint, of temperance. He should teach you. 

“Our hour’s up.” He looks away, dismissing you. As if he’s the one in charge here, and not the one caged. Divested. 

“No, it isn’t. It’s–”

“Our hour’s up,” head snapping back towards you, barking–  “It’s time for you to go.” And something in his gaze must tell how far he’s been pushed, by you, for you jerk up and out of your chair suddenly, turning to scurry towards the door, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to turn back, not bothering to notice the clatter of your pen on the linoleum. 

He watches you go, a single black seam runs up the back of your hose, and the sight makes him feel violent, eager for darkness and the solitude of his white box room. 

-

He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the rain beats against the singular tiny window in his room, maybe the way it whispers at him like all the other things that whisper at him now, but he knows you’ll come before he hears the stunted jangle of keys, the sigh and click of his door, the bare pad of shoeless feet on the hard floor, you’d thought this through, your too fast, too shallow breathing. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, cock hard, a little chafed. He wasn’t able to make himself come tonight, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes he needs the imagination of your wet cunt more than just the mere memory of your voice in his mind and the remembered feel of your gaze on him, but he’s never let himself picture the full act of fucking you. Thinks it would send him to a level of unhingedness he’d find unable to restrain in your presence. He only thinks of bits and pieces of you, like a dissected doll pulled apart for his half pleasure. Never the full thing, ever. 

You try and say whatever it is you want to say several times before it finally comes out, all choked and feigned regret, but you do try and put on a good show, swallowed up by nerves as you are. “I– I just– I just came to make sure you’re okay,” you whisper. You’ve never been in his room before. He’s never had you in his space like this, and it makes him leak. 

“You didn’t come for that.” Voice slow, still wide eyed, looking up at the white domed ceiling, something like victory in the shape of a hymn pounding through his veins. He won’t look at you until he’s ready. 

“I… I felt badly about how we left things this afternoon. I shouldn't have– I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t end our talk the way– the way… Joel?” You stutter,  trail off, voice small and unsure. 

He sees you move out of the corner of his eye. One step forward, two back, pressing up against the door again. Little bunny full of regret for coming into the wolf's bed, and he moves suddenly, swift despite his age still. He has little to do here besides move his body, make sure it doesn’t grow rust. He sits up quick as a whip, swinging his legs over the edge of his too small bed, planting his feet wide and sturdy on the cold floor. He can see the tremble of your throat even from here, the pristine lines of you. Your hair and your face and your tits and the tiny little pearl buttons of your blouse like soldiers waiting to be felled on the battlefield. He’s going to rip them from you, pluck the garments keeping you hidden away from your skin, spread you out, filleted. 

“That’s not what you came here for, angel.” He shakes his head slowly, and your panic ricochets higher, makes his cock harder. Your arm reaches back for the latch slowly, fumbling behind you, and he braces his legs. Your other palm outstretched, fingers trembling. He gives you another slow shake, as if that small gesture could keep him at bay. “I hear all the things you tell me. Don’t worry. I always hear.”

“Wh– what do you mean?”

“I always see the things you want me to know. I know… I know. It’s okay.”

“I don’t– I’m not sure… I shouldn’t have come.” Your hand finds the latch, angling your body to slip through as swiftly as possible, and his muscles coil tight and ready. “I just wanted– to– to make sure…” You pull the door open, move to slip away, and he lunges for you, catches the edge of the swinging door, lets you float in the lie that you’ve gotten away for a few seconds, scurrying a few paces down the dark corridor of his perfect place where he’s found his perfect girl. 

The morning after I killed myself, I found an angel. 

You make it as far as the bend in the hall before he’s trapping you in his grip, swinging you around so fast you bounce against the white tiled walls, cages you there, open mouth immediately at your jugular, biting down hard while his big palm completely smothers your face, forces your choked cry back down. His other arm wraps around your waist, lifting and dragging you back down the hall towards his white box and his little bed and all his fantasies, artery caught between his teeth, no more choices to be had, exactly like you leave him all the time. He whispers at you to be quiet, quiet, quiet, angels are always good, and then he’s shutting the door behind him, trapping you inside and plucking the keys from your skirt pocket, locking the two of you away together as you should’ve been from that first day. 

You try and struggle in his arms, little feet kicking weakly at his shins, scratching at his sides where he has your arms trapped, but the sound of your fight is restrained, held low and gurgled in your throat, and he knows that you know that this is what you’d come for, that you’re getting exactly as you’d sought. 

“Fight harder if you’d like,” he says low in your ear, throwing the keys to the far corner and wrapping both arms tight around you, pressing all the air out. Finally, fucking finally. He’s touching you, the plush heat of your breasts against his chest, the soft swell of your belly against his stomach. He’s so fucking hard he wants to rut into you like a beast. “I want you to be scared,” and it’s the foremost truth he’s ever shared with you. The heart of all his depravity. “I want you to want it so bad you’re terrified. As bad as I want it. I want you to not want it also. Want you to fight and cry and scratch and bite, and then take it anyways ‘cause I’m gonna to give it to you anyways. You always take all of my choices from me,” he adds on, voice going barely there, mumbled, pressing a tiny kiss to the tiny hammering pulse in your throat, and you let out your first soft moan. An angel singing right into his ear. Your fighting tells all sorts of lies. He hoists you higher, presses you closer, and you wriggle and squirm, grinding his erection into the soft apex of your thighs. 

“Joel– stop, please– please. I– I didn’t think–” He bends his head to your breast, drags his nose over the hard peak he feels beneath the silk of your blouse, nuzzles there, enjoying the sound of your breathlessness, again that feigned shock. You’re right, you didn’t think, and it’s too late now. What did you expect would happen, coming here to his cage like this in the middle of the night? He catches the taut peak between the edge of his teeth, tugs gently, plucking your cords.

With a fist wrapped in the length of your hair he forces you to your knees at his feet, jerking your head back roughly so that your mouth falls open on a gasp giving him the opportunity to hook his fingers over the edge of your bottom teeth, stretching your jaw open wide. “Open– lemme see,” he orders. “I wanted you so bad,” dragging the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge of your jaw. “I want you so bad. All those days when you forced me to tell you things I didn’t want to tell you. I’m going to show you temperance now, angel,” he nods his head down at you condescendingly when you try and protest. I didn’t force you to do anything, “But you did. You did. You pulled things out of me I didn’t want to share. And now I have to have you. You always take all of my choices from me.” He clicks his tongue down at you, and there are tears in your eyes that go wide and something worse than frightened when he tugs the elastic waist of his soft white pants down, pulls out his angry erection and heavy balls. Your expression morphing from something worse than frightened, to something like desperate, like hungry, like his for the taking. And he’s big, he knows it. Much too big for the pretty little throat he’s about to force it down. But he’s going to be gentle, he’s going to help you, teach you. 

“Joel, please–” And look at you beg, so pretty with tears in your eyes, running down your cheeks. He brings the searing brand of his erection to your cheek, presses the burning hot skin all over your face, coating himself in the wet of your tears, marking you in the thick male scent of him. And the feel of you, just like this, just this little bit – with his fingers still hooked over the edge of your teeth he turns your face so that your open mouth brushes against his length. “Taste– I know you’re hungry for it. Give it a kiss hello, little angel.” 

Your eyes flash up to his face for a brief moment, almost too quick for him to catch, and then you’re pursing your mouth against him, swallowing the shudder that moves through his entire frame. A tiny kiss to the ridged underbelly of his cock, the drag of your lips against the length of him to the fat tip, and then another kiss with wet lips and enough tongue to undeniably lick up some of what’s slicking it. You want him, even if you won’t admit it, even if you cry or fight. It’s all he needs to know. 

Still caught by the teeth he jerks your head back forward, opens you wider and forces his cock down your throat. You gurgle around him, whining, shrieking, false, he knows what you really want. Can feel it in the slicking of your tongue around the proof of his desire for you, he’s giving you everything he has, and he spits your name, purges it from his belly like an infection over and over again while he starts to fuck your mouth. Feels you gulp hard just at the right moment to get his leaking tip caught tight at the choking opening of your throat. He could come just like this. He could, he could. You’re all his. Fill your belly with his semen until it bulges, feed you himself until you’d never be without him. He lets his head fall back, looks up at the white dome, at the false home of the false God, tells you again, voice all cracked and broken and gone away from him, “I don’t believe in God anymore, but that’s okay. I have you to believe in now,” fucks harder, listens to your cries climb up the walls, savors the scratch and shove at his thighs when he tightens his fist in your hair to a painful degree. You always take all my choices from me, always. But he knows that if he’s to show you temperance he must exercise his own, and after a few more slick thrusts, he pulls wetly from your mouth, enjoying your whistling groan as you sag face first against his thigh. He pets your hair now gently, fingers twisting through the softness. He’d always wanted to feel it, memorize its texture, its scent. There is nothing about you that isn’t worthy of veneration, of doing the worst thing in the world just to have you, taste you, keep you.

He lets you rest for a moment, wonders at the fact that you haven’t screamed yet. You easily could, call for help, salvation, an escape. You haven’t, and it soothes him. Makes him feel disgusting in a way that doesn’t match up with how disgusting it should feel to force himself on his pretty angel; a self satisfied type of disgust. Something he should be more ashamed of than he truly is. But when you have so little, when you barely have yourself, when theft is the only means of self satisfaction, little recourse remains for creatures caged in perfect places with only bad avenues left to them. 

He hauls you up by your underarms, lets his wet cock press trapped between the two of you, and he’s so close, so close, so close to what he’s needed for so long. He gathers you in his arms, cradles you gentle and with purpose. Tucks your hair behind your ears and wipes the tears and spit from your face, takes it the sparkle of your big wet eyes. So pretty. “Truly like an angel,” and chucks you beneath the chin when you shake your head at him. “You are. So pretty and so soft.” And then finally, like so many times he’d forced himself not to imagine it because he was terrified of what the fantasy would turn him into, no longer the dancing bear in the distance finding it’s escape, but a hungry one, a violent one, an animal so far beyond control all it could do was devour, he pulls you close by the tip of your chin and swallows your mouth whole. All tongue and teeth and the slick slide of your own fervor because yes, it’s there, tangling with his own mouth, pressing your own spit onto his tongue like an offering. You kiss him back.

You kiss him back.

 And, “I want to make you my little butterfly,” he says, “Spread you open, pinned just for me to look at. Only me.” He whispers it into your mouth, soft and secret and true. He’d string you up if he could, split you open and peer inside, rifle through the shafts of your ribs like a lexicon that spells out the truth of who you really are. And then that sudden anger again, that furious stone spinning in his throat. His touch becomes harder, punishing, “You’re going to tell me everything about you,” he says with all that rage in his voice, spits the stone out at you. “You shouldn’t have kept secrets from me.” Fuck the little red book and the scratch, scratch, scratch. He’s going to have all your truths. He’s going to be the one taking all of your choices away from you now. 

He hauls you towards his little bed, popping the pretty pearl buttons as he goes, knowing he’s going to go to his knees later to collect them like treasures for himself after this is done. He rips the blouse from your shoulders, shudders at your indignant little gasp with the sound of the tearing silk, and you’re all soft skin and fine lace and the prettiest thing he’s ever beheld with his own two eyes in this whole life. 

You bring one delicate hand up to his throat, try and grip him there, push him back, but he presses into the touch, sucks at your mouth again, harder, biting, and you say onto his tongue that you shouldn’t, and please, Joel, just wait, but he won’t and he can’t and he tells you it’s useless to fight because he’s having you regardless. 

“No, no– none of that. You’re going to take your fucking like a good little girl,” and something about his words or his tone or the look in his eyes must make the connection in your brian that this is happening click because you suddenly go boneless, head falling back to bear your throat for him, soft sound of concession slipping from your lips. 

He goes in for the kill, he’s always been exceptional at that, after all. Teeth latched at your jugular, tongue up and across the slope of soft sugared skin, and you taste like salvation. He’s saved now, he’s sure of it. Everything he’d lost, his daughter, his mind, himself, he’s going to find it buried in your cunt. Joel is absolutely certain of it. 

He divests you of your skirt, the pretty lace, leaves the nylons held up by tight elastic around your soft thighs, and then it’s all just bare skin and heat and your soft whimpers, the coolness of your hair between his fingers. He lays you out across the length of his bed, takes in the majesty of his winnings. An angel felled and caught. You lie there staring up at him, and there’s an innocence to your gaze that brings him to his knees, set down and at your mercy now. He parts your legs slowly, one small kneecap in the bowl of each palm, the softest skin he’s ever felt beneath these death roughened hands, and Joel could sob now, weep if he had the time for it. He spreads your thighs wide, palms dragging up the insides, calluses catching on the smooth nylon and watches the dip and hitch of your belly as you gasp and shiver. 

“Are you scared?” He whispers right as his palms reach the uppermost part of your thighs, and you’re all softness and warm, damp skin, plush in a way that makes his mouth water and his gums ache, and then he’s finally laying eyes at the center of you, and you’re slicked in the gloss of your desire for him. Playing pretend, feigned fight and reluctance, but he’s looking right at the heart of you, and all he sees now is your truth. You shake your head no, let out a soft breath. “Look at this drippy little cunt,” and he drags his thumb over the pearl of your clit just as whisper soft as his voice is. A half screeched hitch claws up your throat, your thighs jumping at that first touch. He needs to see more, hooks a thumb at each delicate lip and spreads wide, but gently, so as not to hurt you. That’s for later. He stretches your little hole, enjoys the shy wink it gives him. 

“My God… look at you,” he says with something like reverence in his voice. So slick and gorgeous. “I think this little cunt’s going to take me in very nicely.” He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit again, clicks his tongue when your knees try to struggle shut. “None’a that, angel. Be good for me now.” He presses harder at your clit, runs his thumb down to your twitching opening, passes there lightly, coating himself in your leaking slick. “I wanted you so bad,” he tells you, one more moment for confessions before he starts. “I want you so bad. And you’ve always taken all my choices from me. Forced me to stay myself when that’s not who I want to be anymore.”

“You’re Joel,” you whisper, and bring your hand to circle the wrist of the hand he’s petting you with. Not pushing him away or pulling him closer, only a gentle manacle around the thick of his bone. He looks up and into your eyes as he presses his thumb slowly inside of you, hooking it over the thin edge, twists you open slow and gentle and measured, gets you ready for the thickness he’s about to split you open with. 

“That isn’t who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to forget all that, all the bad, her, I wanted to forget all of it. I tucked her name under my tongue for so long it became blood, and I wanted it like that. And you didn’t let me.” 

Your thighs shift restlessly around him, and you bring one foot up to the edge of the bed, anchoring yourself there so that you can begin a gentle rocking motion of your hips, fucking yourself slowly on his thumb. Your breasts heave and sway with the motion and his balls go so tight and so searingly hot, he could come just now like this from the sight of you, suddenly green and untried like he was in his youth. He didn’t think it was going to be like this, and it’s like he’s wasting your honor, stealing it from you, but something given can’t be stolen and his plans are foiled, he’s not in control but he doesn’t really care either. He finally has you. 

He bends his head, brings his mouth to your slick swollen cunt and takes the first sip. Groans so deep in his chest he’s more animal than man suddenly, sucking hard and sharp on your clit, he pulls his hand from you and laves his tongue over the entire slope of your sex, tongue dipping into the well of you. He spreads your lips again, wide, stretches your hole and fucks you with his tongue, big nose pressed to your clit, drowning in your sweet musk. Your fingers twine in the overly long curls of his hair, and he grips your thighs so hard he’s sure you’ll be left with the mark of him later which only makes him rougher, stronger in his hold. With your grip in his hair you sing for him in soft moans and whimpers and more feigned resistance with whispers of no, Joel, and please, stop while you ride his face, his entire mouth covering your cunt, eating it. More beast than man, not Joel, not a father, not a brother, not a killer, only yours. Carved in the image you’d wanted him to be. The one you’d made him with your words and your looks and your scratch, scratch, scratch. All those times you’d asked him what do you want, Joel? And he’d never had an answer for you because what was he supposed to say? You, this, freedom, your wet cunt, the far off field and the dancing bear and my daughter back, alive, my brother, face not unknown. My name, my name, I want my name back. I want myself back. To be alive. I want to be alive. You come on his tongue, first with a shudder and then with a groan, your entire body flushes hot, and it’s a concession of yourself and a door opening, the first vestiges of what the rest of his life will be. 

“You’ve got the sweetest little cunt, baby. Goes so tight and wet and fluttery,” he licks up the sticky sweet of your come, runs his tongue over the wet around his mouth, feels it trickle through his beard. “Think I’ll keep you.” 

Pulling his shirt up and over his head, he crawls up the length of you, slotting his hips between your damp thighs, pushing his soft pants down his legs as he goes, gathering the small of your wrists in a manacle of his fingers to pin them up above your head. He drapes himself over your body, covering you entirely with his weight and pauses for a moment, nuzzling through the curtain of your hair to get at your ear, your throat, your smell. “Are you going to fight back?” He says soft into the small shell of your ear. 

“No, I don’t want to.” You turn your head further to the side, bearing more of your throat to him. 

He follows your orders, runs a line of wet kisses up the delicate column, tastes the pulse of your heart and the slope of your shoulder. “Why not?”

“I don’t have it in me. I’m not a fighter, I came from a place where there was always fighting, where I always had to do battle constantly. I don’t have it in me now, anymore, ever.” You turn to face him again, lick at the line of his mouth, suck on his tongue, your hips rolling now against him, his erection slotted between the soaked lips of your cunt, swallowing him in warmth. “But also, because you were right. Because I want you. Because I did take all your choices from you.” 

Your words pull a groan, a whimper from him, and he pulls his hips back, presses forward, uncoordinated and slipping against all that slick, hot skin. He lets one of your wrists go, keeps the other trapped above your head. “Fuck– grab my cock,” and he feels the heat of your fragile formed hand wrap around the thick of his cock. An ugly, brutish thing held by perfection. You squeeze gently, twist just barely, and he feels his tip rim puckered skin, hot and round and persistent, probing against you as you try and find the right angle. “I’m gonna ride this cunt – hard. And you’re going to take it just how I give it. And you’re going to beg for more and harder and you’re going to thank me.”

Yes, yes, yes. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. 

You notch the tip of his cock at the wet mouth of your cunt, and then he’s pushing in, saving himself, finding salvation, returning or leaving himself, it doesn’t really matter anymore. He presses in, in, in all the way until he’s sitting hard and heavy and deep inside of you, and he’s sure he can almost feel your heartbeat when he bottoms out, balls pressed to the slick curve of your bottom. Your breaths scratch in whimpers against his ear, his hair fluttering in the wind of your gasps, and your free arm wraps tight around the back of his neck, your hips rolling to take more, impossible, for he’s already deep as he can be, tip to womb. But he shifts his weight, grinds against your cervix and enjoys the sound of your pained moan. 

“You feel right there? Where it hurts? That’s where I fuck you full’a my baby, little angel.” And his thoughts are unhinged, his desires full of madness and future and possibility. He pulls his hips back, drops them and shifts his weight forward inside of you. “And right there?” Grinds against your most sensitive spot, “That’s where I make you cream all over my cock.” He pulls his hips back again, focuses the tip of his cock at that desperate place inside of you and with his hand gripping your bottom to the point of pain he pounds into that place over and over again. The slick wet, obscene sound of his cock fucking in and out of your drippig cunt rings in his ears, and he grits thourgh clenched teeth, “Say thank you, say thank you. Beg me for it harder.”

And you’re so good, so good, and all please, Joel. Harder, harder, more. You’re so deep, it’s so good, please, more. 

He’s going to fill you up and mark you and keep you for himself, and he bends his head, wraps his mouth around the full and heavy weight of your bouncing tit as he fucks you into orgasm around his cock. Going tight, tight as a fist, so wet it drips down his balls and onto the already soaked sheet of his too small bed, and you come for him the way he’d never let himself fantasize about before. Your moans like a song in his ear, and it’s so fucking good, better than any dream, better than anything the voices in his head or the dancing bear could have ever conjured up. He shifts upwards, anchoring himself above you so that he can look down at you as he fucks down deep into your cunt, cock punching against your womb so that it hurts, so that the look on your face is folding in on itself, but good enough still so that your pussy convulses again in another forced orgasm. He wants to look at you as he fills you with his spend, turns you into something he owns after this. 

“Gonna fill you up now– gonna fill you until you’re leakin’ me.” Your hands slide up the soft slope of his stomach, his chest, fingers dragging through the hair there, twisting and pulling on it, up to his face where you cup his chin gently, eye to eye and all wrapped up in your cunt he starts to come, the thick heat of his semen coating your womb while you milk him deeper, every last drop of every last part of him he has to give. 

When he’s done he pulls heavy and wet from you, the sight of your swollen red cunt gaping from him, he finally pulls the slick ruined panty hose from your legs, the marks of the too tight elastic leaving brands in your soft skin, he fingers the grooves gently, clicks his tongue at the sight in reproach. The only thing leaving marks in your skin now should be him. He pulls your wrists back into his grip again, and the look on your face is almost melting in submission, soft and spent and sloppy, leaking cunt all covered in him. 

He ties each delicate wrist to the iron frame of his bed, tight, he can leave marks here now, you’re all his, and returns his attention to the source of his salvation, ignoring your protests as he eats his own come from your cunt until you’re crying a little too loud to remain undiscovered, coming twice more before he gives you reprieve, but he’s the one taking all your choices now, and you have no say in what happens after this. 

He eyes the forgotten keys he’d thrown to the dark corner of his white boxed room, “If you’re not good and quiet, I’ll leave you here for everyone to find, naked and fucked and leakin’ me. Pretty used cunt for the whole world to see, that what you want?”

“No, Joel,” you shake your head, all falsely innocent gaze sparkling up at him. 

And he tells you how good you are because the two of you are only going to share truths with each other now, only going to share everything. “I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body, not even my own mind. Now I have you, and I won't give you up for anythin’. You’re mine now. They all told me so.” 

“Who told you?” You ask softly, but he ignores the question as he draws his clothes back upon himself. 

“I find myself so hard to remember and so easy to forget, but you remember me. You said so, and now I’m going to make sure you never forget.” Joel collects the keys and the pearls brought to him for his salvation, the dancing bear is so close now, and wraps your shredded clothes back around you, unties your wrists from the bed only to re-secure them, and hoists you folded over his shoulder for the taking. 

Joel lost his daughter, and then he lost his mind, but now he’s found you. And they said it would all be okay now that he’s found you. 

The morning after I killed myself, I found the end of my suffering, and at the end of that suffering there was a door – behind that door, I am alive again.

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HIII i really love your writing and i really want to request you this ^^ seeing your recent post about dawnbreaker zayne made me think that...i would love to see some dawnbreaker zayne and mc angst from you 🫣

Since English isn't my first language, I'm delighted to read that. Dawnbraker Zayne angst here we go!

I miss her. That was Zayne's conclusion as he walked by the empty streets, where no soul could be seem. How can he miss someone he has never met before? The old and almost destroyed Linkon tourist's guide kept on his hands as he wandered on a ghost city, by the time forgotten, hoping he could savor glimpses of someone who wasn't there anymore. To hunt memories, so he can repeat to himself that, at least, in another life, he was happy;

The dreams started when he was a way younger. He thought it was just his brain's way to cope with his burden, but when the same pattern repeated itself over and over again throughout the years, Zayne knew there couldn't exist such coincidence. So he became obsessed.

He searched on every data about his other self. How life was before, when the pre stage wanderers weren't such a treat to society as now. The hospital, the hunter's association, the establishments he used to visit, and most importantly of all: you;

He thought he wasn't envious of his doctor version at first. Dawnbraker was able to deal with the lack of family since he never had one or even friends and a healthy life structure in general. But you. Oh, you. The girl in the dreams with the bright personality and warm tone of voice. Dawnbraker felt envious for the first time when that voice called his name. He knew it wasn't his name, and it hurt;

He bought your favorite candies and put them at his half empty apartment. He even bought flowers in an illusionary attempt to bring you closer, in hopes you would show up. But you didn't exist in his world. It comforted him to do it, though. It was his ritual before he went to sleep. If he kept you alive in his mind during the day, you would grace him in his dreams;

It was so fucking unfair. The way he kept a diary of his dreams at the bed table besides his bed to engrave every detail of you was fucking unfair;

He even did portraits of you — the drawing ability he discovered his doctor version also had — because he got terrified, thinking that all of sudden the dreams could come to an permanently end, and he would never be able to see you again;

From that desperation came the avaricious felling of rights upon his other self. He wanted as much time with you as he could get. Dawnbraker's dreams had become his drug;

It was like day and night had switched positions. Dawnbraker Zayne was performing during the day, surviving every second of it. He started to kill the humans before they could turn into wanderers like they were just numbers. It wasn't real after all. No, it was just a bad nightmare that he would wake up from, in Linkon, embraced in your loving arms and sweet voice. He rejected his life, believing that was his right to possess Doctor Zayne's one;

He needed his fix. He needed desperately every night. When he didn't get it, he became reckless, killing to vent his anger, killing in revenge at the universe for giving him this miserable existence. He killed almost for joy;

When two weeks passed by without any dreams, he went a step further into his addiction. One pill. Just one to make dawnbraker Zayne sleep properly and get to his other self. He swallowed it, taking two sips of water. His head hurted, and his hands trambled. But it was functional. Dawnbraker fell into a deep slumber;

It worked amazingly. The pill helped to keep his staying with you more vivid. Even though he couldn't feel physically what Zayne felt, he could see your face clearly now. It wasn't a blury dream. You were so perfect, every detail, walking on the rain together, the sound of the droplets of rain hitting the umbrella mixing with your laugh. Zayne wanted to cry. Would you notice his tears in the rain? You both were soaked, you and him apparently stopped by the convenience store to buy an umbrella;

You were holding some shopping bags and a bouquet of flowers, the same flower he has bought back in his world. He felt glad you received them in this universe. Dawnbraker felt guilty. Has Doctor Zayne noticed the flowers on the counter while he stayed in his world?

After that wonderful dream, Dawnbreaker faced his fall. It started with one pill that turned into two in only a spare of weeks, then three. He killed half human beings, then he drugged himself to the life he could save those people. To where he has a perfect life, when he was looked to as a person, not a feared shadow living in the corner;

He remembered to left hints on his apartment to the other Zayne from that night on. Flowers, movie tickets from the movies released back then, some not too revealing notes... some revealing ones;

One day, he arrived at his apartment with an injury on his arm. He had seen so much blood that day, spilled so much blood. His blood and innocent's too. Dawnbraker felt an excruciating pain. He felt totally abandoned in the universe;

In order to forget the pain consuming him, he swallowed all the remaining pills left on the bottle. He didn't have much time, so he send a message to the only number he had registered on his phone since that little boy accident, and also placed one item on his bedside table as he always did, so his other self would capture what he wanted Zayne to do, and he slept;

Dawnbraker found himself in the corridor to your apartment, his heart pounding on his chest like he wanted desperately to live. He stumbled at the open door's frame, rushing into your living room, finding you there, safe and sound, his pretty girl, as always. Dawnbraker wanted to cry again, and this time, he let himself;

"Zayne? What happened? Is everything okay?" You came rushing to him, and this time, he couldn't hide the surprise. On this dream, he was able to feel your touch;

He crumbled on his own weight, falling on his knees in front of you, his eyes sparkly with crystal clear tears washing over his face, pupils stagnated on you. As you brushed his tears off, he placed both his hands on top of yours, nuzzling his face against your warmth, felling you for the first time;

"Hard day at work?" You asked, and he sobbed, hands trembling as he tried to stop the tears. So you hugged him. With any word needed, you just stayed with him, the man's big frame hidden in your neck crook, warm tears running down your skin as you keep a tender scratch on his hair's scalp;

"S'okay Zayne, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you." She coped his face with both hands, touching both foreheads together, and kept caressing her thumbs on his face. "I love you. And there's nothing in this universe able to change that."

Doctor Zayne woke up at the infamous, almost empty apartment, almost screaming in pain. What had happened? Why was he there? His head was spinning, he was sweating, and as soon as he raised his head to check on himself, he was also bleeding. The bedsheets were soaked in blood;

Zayne tried to get out of bed to serch for medical supplies in order to staunch the bleeding. But he failed when he computed the actual condition of his counterparts arm: it wasn't human anymore;

Then, Doctor Zayne remembered the uncountable notes left to him by himself from that sick reality: "Wanderers. Infectious danger." Then he understood. It was his worst nightmare, the last one;

He made a colossal effort to try to get off bed. There's need to be a solution, a way out to save himself from that destiny. Then, he stumbled his hand on a little item left on the side bed table. He groaned in pain on the process to bring the object closer to his sight;

It was a little box. His last item was a set of rings. Engagement ones;

Dawnbraker Zayne opened his eyes, meeting your tender gaze, too flabbergasted to even speak. His body just leaned, seeking more of your warmth. You understood him and his cowardice, so you simply leaned the remaining amount of millimeters between both lips, kissing him again and again and again. "No need to worry. I'm gonna take care of you today, okay?" You said, making tears run down his eyes. "You...promise?" Dawnbraker asked, his throat aching for trying to hold his happy tears;

"Off course I promise! I'll always take care of you, Zayne." She smiled again. After a terrible life, Dawnbreaker felt loved. He pulled you for a last kiss. "Thank you. I'll always love you, no matter when or where. Remember that."

Blurred by tears, Dawnbreaker's vision faded away from that reality into nothing. But while he took the last look at you, all passionate and feelings love, he couldn't be envious anymore, because he was once, loved by his dream girl, he was at least once, truly happy. Dawnbreaker finally could fell peace;

Delirious by the pain, the last thing Doctor Zayne could hear was someone kicking the front door, presenting themselves as police. Before his bedroom door was broken entirely down, he placed the ring box near his chest, clenching his grip around it;

Doctor Zayne opened his eyes again to meet yours. The pain had vanished, and he returned to his world. As you kissed all over his face, he smiled, hugging you tightly as tears ran down his face. That was his last nightmare as Dawnbreaker, and Doctor Zayne would make sure to fulfill his last wish;

Just then, one day, Zayne would also give his last breath beside the woman he loved dearly.

E N D

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, angst, references to SA, depression, PTSD, some mild sexual talk

A/N: I live nowhere near the places we talk about below, I relied heavily on google maps

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

July 2004

Denver, CO

It's been a little over a month since you and Joel fled Kansas City. Joel was determined to create as much distance as quickly as possible, focusing every day on walking as far as your legs would take you. At first, he was terrified of Amy's people coming after you when they inevitably found Keith's body. Once it became more and more unlikely that you would cross paths with them, his anxiety shifted to the terrain. There wasn't much cover between Kansas City and Denver, it being mostly open plains, so it encouraged Joel to constantly keep moving. He told you these excuses to keep you traveling west, towards the mountains, but what he didn't say was he wanted the distraction. For both you and for him.

Every spare moment he had he found himself reliving that horrible night, the things you went through while he failed to keep you safe. While fucking Amy was coming onto him in that shitty little office. He had never told you about his interaction with her. He knew right now it could be the very thing that would break you. He didn't see the point in it anyway, nothing had happened, but in the interest of being completely honest, he planned to tell you one day. Just not now. Right now, you were an absolute mess, like a fragile flower that had been ruthlessly stomped on and was desperately clinging to life. It broke his heart to look at your sullen features every day, features that used to be filled with so much joy and warmth. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw you smile or saw a spark in your eye.

Once your shock wore off, he found out very quickly that you didn't want to be touched. That first night when he made camp, after he got you out of the city limits and back into the forest as deep as you could go in the pitch black of night, he tried to hold you, tried to talk about what happened. But you had jumped at his touch, scrambling away with your eyes wild, nearly tripping over your feet. You apologized to him, and you forced yourself to let him hug you, but he could feel how tense you were in his arms, how uncomfortable you were, and his heart shattered. You had been through enough and he wasn't going to force you to do anything, even if it killed him every time he caught himself instinctually reaching out to you at night. He left it in your hands to make the first move. When you were ready, he knew you would. But it's been over a month, and you hadn't tried to touch him, even to hold his hand or to tap his shoulder to get his attention. He knew not to take it personally, that it wasn't his touch, but it was any touch that you despised. Even though he knew this, his heart and body still ached for you.

You would talk to him, although it wasn't ever playful or flirty anymore. Mostly just about survival. He felt like you were distant and detached, like you were on autopilot. You never mentioned the assault, and he didn't bring it up. He knew it was his fault. It ate him alive, and he carried that burden with him every day. Selfishly, he felt like he was grieving a loss. The loss of the person you once were. And he was terrified he was never going to get you back.

Joel did the only thing he could think of, and that was to give you space. He knew you needed to process your trauma and he didn't want to force you through it. So, he gave you space, but he physically never let you out of his sight. He was never going to make that mistake again. He wouldn't ever tell you that even when you said you needed to pee, he would follow you just enough to keep an eye on you. He definitely would never tell you that when he followed you, he watched you sob quietly into your hands for a few minutes almost every day, at least once a day. Most often he had to fight the urge to cry himself. It destroyed him that you kept your emotions hidden, that you didn't feel comfortable expressing your grief to him.

Before you entered the community in Kansas City, you had said to him "us or them, right?" And he told you yes, it was always the both of you against the world. It was beginning to feel like there was no more "us", that his broken promise destroyed everything. Even when you had to kill someone for the first time, it ripped you apart, but you still went to him for comfort. You sobbed in his arms until you ran out of breath, and then he tried to fix it for you. Afterwards, you were distant, but he was able to draw you back out. This was not like that time. Nothing he did worked, and his grief was morphing into fear. Fear of losing you forever.

"Joel?" you quietly called out behind him, and his head snapped around to face you, desperate for anything you offered him.

"Can we rest soon?" you asked, shifting your backpack on your shoulders. "It's so hot, and I -"

"Yeah, 'course, let's stop here. There's a stream I saw nearby, I can still hear it. We can fill our canteens and wash up a bit," he was too overeager, he knew it, as he tried to give you anything you wanted. You flopped down on a broken tree trunk and hung your head between your knees. He rustled around in his pack until he found some unopened trail mix and a can of chicken. He reached both out to you, waving them low to the ground so you would see. You saw the chicken and brought your head back up to meet his gaze, your jaw hanging open.

"When did you get that?" It was never a favorite of yours before the world ended, but you developed a taste for it over time, growing sick of the same old granola bars and soup.

He couldn't help but smile. You weren't the happiest he’d ever seen you, but some color returned to your face, and that was progress in his book.

"Found it in that rest stop yesterday. Wanted to surprise you," he shook the can and the trail mix, urging you to take it from him. You were so eager that your fingers accidentally slid along his, and his heart leapt into his throat. For once, you didn't flinch at the contact, or maybe in your excitement you didn't notice, but either way he had a hard time wiping the smile off his face.

He sat on the forest floor across from you and ate some beef jerky, admiring the trees. According to his map, you were on the west side of Denver now, in the middle of a huge cluster of mountains and forests. He noticed you seemed more at ease in nature. More protected. He had been to Yellowstone with Tommy in his 20s, and he had fond memories of the trip. Tommy always used to talk about it, and even had pictures framed in his office. He didn't mention it to you yet, but his goal was to take you there. Maybe it would give you peace the way it brought him peace in his memories. He remembered there being tons of campgrounds. He liked to imagine finding a safe and secluded area and fixing up a cabin to have a wraparound porch with blue shutters. He knew it was a long shot, but it was the one fantasy he allowed himself to have.

"We've been walking for so long, and it's been so hot," you said, breaking the silence. "Do you think if we find a place, maybe we can stay for a bit? Until the weather breaks?" You looked up at him from your food, eyes hopeful. He could never say no to you. Yellowstone can wait.

"Yes," he said, "I'm sorry. Next time we find a shelter that's in good shape, we can lay low for a while."

"You don't need to be sorry," you said, picking at your trail mix.

"Yeah, I do." Joel replied, his eyebrows bunched together. You regarded him carefully, reading between the lines.

You didn't want to bring it up. You didn't want to think about it. You shifted your weight uncomfortably on the tree and looked at the ground.

"You wanna go wash up in that stream? I'll keep watch, don't know if we'll get another chance for a while," he said, changing the subject immediately. You could see the pain he was hiding behind his eyes, you saw it every day. You wanted to reach out to him, to help relieve his guilt, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not because you thought it was his fault, although early on you admittedly did blame him. It was too much to process back then. Your own grief and trauma was taking precedence, and you had to let Joel work through his emotions on his own. The weight of what happened was holding you down so intensely that you couldn't bring yourself to take on one more thing.

"Yeah, sure," you said, finishing up your food and digging around your pack for some fresh clothes and a small towel.

Joel did exactly as he said he would. He stood guard while you washed up, your backs to each other as you peeled off each piece of clothing and cleansed the skin underneath it, before putting fresh clothes over and moving on to the next area. You weren't comfortable being fully exposed, and he understood that. You never really were comfortable with it in the woods. But it still made his chest ache. Like something was stolen from you that day, and he missed it.

It wasn't until three days later that you found a small cabin. From the looks of it, Joel guessed it was part of the national parks department, a place for service rangers to rest or call for help when on patrol. It only had a bedroom, a half bathroom, a small seating area and a kitchen that looked more like a breakroom. But it was secluded, and it was safe, so Joel agreed to set up camp for a while.

He was pleased to find a fully stocked first aid kit, no doubt courtesy of the government, as well as a reasonable amount of dried goods and clean linens. There was one rifle locked in a cabinet which was easily broken into with his hunting knife, just in case he needed the spare weapon. He wasn't sure how long you would end up staying there. He didn't want to rush you, there was no point. Nothing was out there for you, anyway. But he always imagined finding you a house bigger than this.

As Joel was taking inventory of the goods, you walked around the small space. There was a huge map above the couch that you examined. It was a close up of the forests you were currently in. You trailed your finger down the map, looking at how far the two of you had walked in the past month. The hilly terrain made your accomplishment all the more impressive. Joel had been watching you out of the corner of his eye when you spoke.

"We're close to the Wyoming border," you said, your eyes lifting towards the top of the map, but the state in question was cut off. Joel cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I know. Hey, I was thinkin'," he began, flattening his hands on the kitchen counter, "What do you think 'bout headin' to Yellowstone? You ever been?" You shook your head.

"No, what's in Yellowstone?" You turned to him now. His chest ached at how tired you looked.

"Well, nothin' really. I was there once. With Tommy, when we were younger. It's lots of land, forests, hills. Figured it might be safe," at the word safe, his eyes turned down to look at the counter and his fingers brushed over the keychain in his pocket, unable to look you in the eye. "Lots of campgrounds, some real nice ones. Maybe we find someplace we can call home."

You don't know why you never considered the destination before now. You always imagined the pair of you would always be on the move, always looking for something that inevitably didn't exist. Joel had always been so adamant about having a goal: finding your parents, finding Tommy, finding a community. He had never suggested just stopping and living your lives together, alone.

"What about Tommy?" you asked him quietly. Ever since he mentioned finding his brother all those months ago, you knew it was a lost cause. He could be anywhere; he could be dead. In all likelihood, he probably was dead. But that wasn't for you to decide. Joel needed to come to that conclusion on his own. And it finally seemed like he did.

"I ain't gonna find Tommy, it was a dumb idea in the first place," he said, a fist clenching as he rapped his knuckles on the counter. "We need to find someplace before winter. I don't wanna be out in the snow like last year. I just-" he kept his eyes cast down and gave a small shrug, "I just wanna be with you."

You turned away as you felt the tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You knew he was trying, and you knew the way you pulled away from him hurt. You tried. You really did. But every time you hyped yourself up to touch him, to let him touch you, you felt the bile rising in the back of your throat. It wasn't fair, it didn't have anything to do with your feelings for him. But it was like your body just couldn't accept it, that you physically recoiled from the slightest touch, and you couldn't control it. Your mind wanted to reach out and comfort him, but your body kept you firmly planted on the worn wooden floors.

"That sounds nice," you told him, looking back at the map. His eyes shot up at your words, his eyebrows raised. Relief flooded through him, hearing that you liked his plan. Maybe one day, many years later, the two of you would find a community or other people to trust, but for now, it could just be the two of you.

"Alright, then," he said, straightening up. "In the meantime, let's stay here awhile. Wait for this heat to break. I figure we can make it to Yellowstone by October if we really push. Before the snow flies," he chewed his lip and glanced at his watch. There was enough daylight left to go gather some wood for a fire and maybe even shoot a rabbit, if he was lucky. But he didn't want to leave you alone.

"You wanna come with me, explore the area a bit?" he asked, trying to sound casual. But you knew what he was doing. He hadn't left you alone for a month. You didn't push back, you let him be protective. It was the least you could do if you couldn't bring yourself to open up to him. You nodded and leaned over to pull your pack back on.

"Sure," you said, slinging your bow over your back and followed him out the door, back into the summer heat.

The next few weeks were pretty much the same. The two of you scavenged for food in the mornings, before the heat became too oppressive and the animals hid. You spent your afternoons reading or napping while Joel skinned whatever animal you managed to kill that day and gathered wood and dead brush on the outskirts of the cabin, never straying far and finding excuses to come inside and check on you every so often. There was a small creek about a 10 minute walk south of the cabin where you would both go to fill up your canteens in the late afternoon and take turns bathing. Then he would start a fire to cook the meat while you prepared some instant potatoes, or rice, or anything else you found. Your dry and canned goods were starting to run low, so you used them sparingly. After you ate, you spent some time outside, soaking up the sun or reading. Joel would always stay close, sometimes walking a circuit around the cabin or reviewing some more detailed maps of the area left behind by the park rangers. At night, you shared the small bed, guiltily clinging to the edge of the mattress to create as much distance as possible, holding back your tears until he fell asleep.

It must have been the end of August by now. The days were hot, but the nights were cool, indicating fall was around the corner. You remembered Joel's plan to reach Yellowstone by October, so you knew your time at the cabin was coming to an end. You were fine with that. The cabin served its purpose. It kept you dry and safe so you could both rest your bodies before the month-long trek ahead of you. And with your food supplies dwindling, you knew it was time to move on. Joel didn't say anything, didn't want to push you into leaving, so you brought it up on your own, asking him when he thought you should head out. He seemed surprised that morning, expecting you to want to stay longer. He searched your eyes to make sure you weren't bringing it up because you felt he wanted to go, that you wanted to leave on your own volition.

"Why don't we plan on leavin' in a couple days?" he offered, and you nodded, finishing up your bowl of blackberries from a bush you had found not too far from the cabin.

"I was thinkin', I saw some deer at that creek few days ago. Maybe I can get us one and we can make some jerky. Should only take half a day to cook it. It'll give us somethin' til we find more food on the way," he glanced up to look at you. "You wanna come with me? Bring that bow of yours, it's quieter." He already knew the answer, but he always asked you, anyway. He wanted to give you the choice. If you ever said no, which was rare, he would just skip hunting and make do until the next day.

"Yep, sounds good," you said, getting up to rinse your bowl in the sink with the rest of the water from your canteen. "I need to refill these, anyway." You placed them both by the door and walked into the bedroom to change, closing the door behind you. Joel's eyes remained glued to the door as he tried to stifle his sadness. Any time he thought you were making progress, something happened to remind him how damaged you were. Something like closing the door to change in private made him rub his chest. You never would have bothered before. He was beginning to think he would never get back what he had with you. That those animals stole something from you, and he fucking let them. He swiped at the corner of his eye before he stood up and gathered his things. He was checking to make sure the rifle was loaded when you came out of the bedroom, slinging your bow over your shoulder, ready to go.

As you approached the creek, he held out a hand to his side to signify that you should be quiet and slow, watching your step to make sure you didn't potentially scare anything away. You got to the creek and didn't see anything, so you stooped down to refill your canteens, then followed Joel to a boulder not far down on the side of the creek, posting up to wait for any deer who might come to get a drink on the warm summer day.

You sat in silence, watching the sun move above the trees and the sunlight dappling the forest floor. Joel kept his head turned towards the creek, but you stared directly ahead into the forest, lost in thought. You nearly jumped when Joel cleared his throat as quietly as he could, not wanting to touch you, to get your attention. You looked and saw a doe about 15 yards away, standing in front of the creek, flicking her ears and glancing around hesitantly before bringing her head down to the cool water. You handed Joel your bow and he took it without looking, eyes fixed on the deer, as he leaned forward on one knee and loaded an arrow, drawing back. You saw a flutter of movement in a bush next to the doe and let out a soft gasp as you watched a baby fawn stumble out from the thicket, legs still shaky.

You reached your hand out and placed it on Joel's shoulder, stopping him from shooting. He didn't realize he was so touched starved until the contact nearly made him fall over. Keeping his fingers on the arrow, he disengaged the string slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides. He sat back next to you, taking the pressure off his knee and tried not to chase after your touch when you let your hand drop. You both sat and watched the deer together, as the new life stumbled forward to hide under its mother while she continued to drink. It started as a single tear, and then before you knew it your cheeks were damp from the steady flow as you silently cried. Joel turned his head to look for your reaction when the fawn tucked its long legs underneath its body to rest against the doe, only then noticing your tears.

"You alright?" He whispered, face etched with concern and his fists clenching at his side to keep from reaching out to you. You just shook your head and buried your face in your open palms as a shaky sob erupted from your throat. You rocked back and forth, your face still hidden in your hands, while Joel struggled with how to help, his arms reaching out, hovering in the air, and bringing them back. Then, to his surprise, you dropped your hands and lunged yourself forward into his chest, your face pressed against his tanned neck and your arms wrapped around his torso as your body shook. He immediately pinned you to him, his arms holding you as tight as he dared, his cheek resting on the top of your head. He slid a hand up from your back to cradle your head, your tears running down his neck and chest. He leaned back against the boulder, pulling you with him. You clutched the front of his flannel in your fist, your face still streaming with tears, wailing against his chest while he rocked you back and forth. His eyes were burning with the tears he refused to release, desperately trying to be strong for you.

"I got you, sweetheart, I got you," he murmured in your hair.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you cried, burying your face further into his neck as fresh sobs wracked your body. He shook his head fiercely back and forth, even though you couldn't see him, and two tears made their way down his face.

"Don't you dare apologize, you did nothin' wrong, you hear me?" he choked out, more tears flowing now. He swallowed roughly as he dragged in a shaky breath. "I'm the one who's sorry, it's all my fault. I shoulda listened to you, you told me so many fuckin' times and I ignored you. I swear, I'm never gonna forgive myself." He squeezed his eyes shut and held you tighter against him.

"It's not your fault, it's their fault," you said, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. "You were just trying to keep us safe; you didn't know."

He bit the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed with your kindness, to not place the blame on him. He would still blame himself, but it eased his mind to hear you say it anyway. He held you against him until your cries turned to sniffles. Then your fist relaxed, releasing his flannel from your grasp, and ran your hand under the collar of his shirt to rest your palm against his bare shoulder, his skin hot under your touch. He felt a shiver go down his spine, even under the warmth of the sun.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but the sun had shifted to where it was blinding you through the leaves of the trees, so you removed your hand from inside his shirt and lifted your head up to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were dried with tears as you watched the sun dance over his face. You took in his features like you were seeing them for the first time. The small wrinkles next to his closed eyes, his angular nose, his patchy beard that needed to be trimmed, and lastly you let your eyes settle on his parted lips.

You glanced back up to confirm his eyes were still shut. You knew he wasn't sleeping because you felt him mindlessly rubbing a hand across your back. You took a shaky breath and leaned forward, gently pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his eyes remained closed as he reciprocated your kiss, letting you set the pace. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, pulling back a moment before gingerly pushing your lips back against his once more. You sighed as you broke away, resting your foreheads together.

"What can I do?" he asked you, "I need to do somethin'. I wanna help you."

"There is one thing," you told him, leaning back so you could look at him, your fingers intertwining with his on his lap. He sat up straighter, giving you his full attention.

"Name it, I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly.

"Find me a home, Joel," your fingers gently traced over his as you stared into his deep, brown eyes. "I want a new life. I just want to be with you."

He smiled when he heard you echo his words back to him and reached a hand out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"You got it, sweetheart."

That night, Joel gave you your space as usual in the small bed. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt your hand spreading over his chest and your face nestling in his shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest so hard, you could probably feel it. He wasn't sure if you would ever be the same again, or if your relationship would ever be the same, but he was ok with that. If you found a shred of peace by his side, then he would stay right there until his dying day.

September 2004

You had been traveling for almost three weeks, the crisp fall air biting at your cheeks. You weren't exactly sure what the date was anymore, but you had to guess it was the end of September by now, based on how early it got dark and the leaves piling up on the ground. You were in a very small town called Daniel, Wyoming. You walked down Main Street with Joel, eyeing up the buildings. It was quiet, most likely abandoned, and you hadn't heard any indication of infected nearby, so you held your bow loosely at your side as you read the signs outside the buildings. You both zeroed in on a trading store next to the post office, hoping it wasn't picked over and you could restock some of your supplies. You had gotten lucky over the past few weeks, killing rabbits and squirrels as your primary source of food and finding a few cans or dry goods here and there. The journey hadn't been too bad, but Joel was eager to get to Yellowstone and find you a home. He wanted to have enough time to stock up the cabin or house you picked with supplies before it got too cold.

Joel confirmed the store was clear and ushered you inside. It was warm, and you welcomed the break from the wind. Joel went to the clothing section to look over winter clothes and accessories you would need while you went to see what food was left behind. You were stuffing your backpack full of any food you could fit when your eyes landed on a red can. You flicked your gaze back to Joel, who was engrossed with picking out a flannel that looked exactly like the one he was wearing, but newer. You reached back onto the shelf and pulled out two cans of Beefaroni, shoving them deep down in your pack so he wouldn't see them.

As you were finishing up, Joel walked up behind you holding up a few long sleeve women's thermal tops.

"Whaddya think?" he asked, holding them up. You nodded, taking all three from his hands and then glanced down at your overfilled pack.

"Can you carry them for me? Mine's full." You held them back out to him, and he carefully folded them up and put them in his backpack. He jutted his chin towards your pack.

"Find anything good?" he asked as he shouldered his bag and picked up his rifle.

"Yep," was all you said, but he caught the corner of your mouth turn up right before you bent over to pick up your things. He looked at you curiously with his eyebrows pinched, a small smile playing on his lips. "What?" you asked him innocently.

"Nothin'," he said, turning back around to survey the store. "Do we need anythin' else before we head out? We got a few more hours of daylight, I'd like to make the most of it."

"I think we should be good til we get there," you told him, following him out of the store. "What did you think, another week or so?"

"Yeah, give or take. It's a big park, there's lots of areas to explore. Once we get there, we can take our time pickin' a spot, settle in, and stock up for the winter." He opened his map as you made your way down the street. "I reckon we can follow the 191 the whole way," he pointed down the street where you could see a T in the road. "That should be it right there."

You walked until the sun began to dip below the trees. Joel was building a fire and grumbling about shorter days and less time to cover ground while you were rolling out your sleeping bags. He picked up his rifle and stood to head out into the woods. You noticed ever since your breakthrough with him, he was feeling more confident about leaving you alone, as long as you were comfortable with it. And he always asked. Every time. Today was no exception.

"I'll go out and see if I can find us a rabbit or somethin', they'll probably be out now that it's dusk. You wanna come with or do you wanna hang back?" He had his rifle slung over his shoulder and he looked down at you with warmth in his eyes. It was funny, it's only been a year, but if your coworkers saw him how he was now, they would never believe it. But you knew he reserved this side of himself just for you. You remember seeing his darker side before, most prominently when he confronted Keith after your assault. At the time, it scared you how quickly he was able to flip that switch. But now you understood there was nothing to fear when it came to him. At least, you didn't have anything to fear.

"Why don't you skip hunting today, I have a surprise for you," you said, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. You were slowly starting to smile more again, and every single time it made him grin. He immediately slid his rifle off his shoulder and laid it on the ground, sitting down on top of his sleeping bag next to you.

"Well, how could I say 'no' to that," he teased. He dusted his hands on the sides of his jeans and looked at you expectantly. You turned to rummage in your pack, taking you a minute to find the cans you shoved all the way to the bottom. You pulled them out and hid them behind your back.

"Pick a hand," you said, and his eyes bounced back and forth between your shoulders as he decided, the light from the fire making them sparkle. Finally, he reached out and pointed to your right hand. He was still very careful about touching you, only ever doing so after you’d initiated contact. You took your hand out from behind your back and handed him the can of Beefaroni.

"Happy Birthday," you said as his face shone with excitement, his eyebrows raised high, and his jaw hung open. He reached out and cradled it like it was gold before looking back up to you.

"How do you know if it's my birthday?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I guessed. It's gotta be around now, right? Do you like it?" You looked at him eagerly as he turned the can over in his hands.

"Well, that depends. What's in the other hand?"

You immediately brought your left hand around to hand him the second can, and he jokingly clutched his chest and fell backwards, his hand catching himself at the last minute, then pushed himself back up. You giggled, and his eyes shot up to yours, trying to hide his shock. That was definitely the first time you laughed since your assault. Warmth spread across his chest at the sound, and he looked down at the two cans in his hand.

"I never got you anythin' for your birthday," he said, still looking down with a smile. You waved him off.

"You're getting me a home, that's all I want," you told him, scrounging in your bag to find a can of chicken you tucked away for yourself.

You ate in front of the fire in a comfortable silence, watching the fireflies and listening to the insects chirp around you. He finished his can and set it down by the fire, leaning back a bit to fish the keychain out of his pocket.

"Beefaroni was a great gift, sweetheart, but this one is still hard to top," and he dangled the keychain in front of you. You were about to take a bite of food when your hand froze in midair. You looked from the keychain, to Joel, then back again before putting the fork down.

"Can I see?" you asked, and he placed the keychain in your palm. You could tell the chrome edge was worn from being rubbed in his pocket, but the Texas flag was still just as bright. You handed it back to him with a smile.

"I keep forgetting you have that," you admitted, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. He tucked it back into his pocket.

"I always got it on me," he told you. You looked at each other in the glow of the fire until you bit your lip and looked away. Joel never pressured you to be physical after your assault. He didn't even flirt the way he used to. The best he would do was tease you a little. He left all of that up to you, and he was incredibly patient. You only kissed him twice since that afternoon in the forest, and they were both very brief. Even then, he never attempted to deepen the kiss, giving you complete control. You wanted that part of your relationship back, but you were scared what it would be like, or if you were ready.

You looked back over at him. He was staring into the fire now, his legs stretched out and leaning back on his hands. You swallowed, then inched over to him, tucking your head into his shoulder. He shifted so his weight was all on one hand, and he picked up the other to wrap around your hips, his palm flat against the top of your thigh. You turned your face up to look at his, and when he glanced down back at you, you leaned up to press your lips against his mouth. He kept his hands where they were and gently massaged his lips on yours, still not looking to take anything further. Your heart swelled at his patience and restraint, overwhelmed by his sweetness. Before you had a chance to overthink it, you delicately licked at his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. You felt his hesitation before gently opening his lips, letting you be the one to explore. You nervously ran your tongue up and down his, moving much slower than either of you ever had in the past. All of your memories came flooding back of better times, and you realized just how much you missed being this close to him. You applied more pressure as his hand came up to cradle your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as you swirled your tongue around his with more confidence. His hand was getting sore holding himself up, so he cupped your jaw with both hands while he eased himself back. He was lying flat on the ground now with you next to him, your upper body resting on top of his chest, your tongue never leaving his mouth.  You felt the heat from the fire on your back as you pulled back to catch your breath, leaving a slow trail of kisses along his jaw. His fingers gently raked up and down your back, his adrenaline catching up with him now. He was trying so hard to hold back, to let you take it as far as you wanted. His eyes fluttered closed as you peppered kisses down his throat. You were finding it difficult to reach his neck from your angle, so without thinking, you swung your leg over his hips, your mouth continuing its trail.

You should have gone slower, you should have thought it through more. The way you were situated on him now left your core directly over his growing erection. You didn't even realize it until you shifted your weight back on your hips, pressing yourself on him and feeling his hardening cock, and he groaned softly. Your mind didn't even catch up with your body before you found yourself scrambling backwards off his lap, back to the safety of your sleeping bag. He sat up with a jolt, his eyes filled with concern.

"What'd I do?" he asked, looking you over as if he could find something physically wrong. You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the man who forcibly pressed your hand against his erection, rubbing your wrist subconsciously. Your chest felt tight as you gasped for air. You rubbed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"Nothing, you didn't do anything," you gasped. "It was me. I thought I was ready, I thought... I'm so sorry, Joel." Your face crumpled, tucking your knees into your chest. You tried to hide your face in your shoulder, but he reached out and hooked a finger under your chin, dragging your eyes up to meet his.

"You got nothin' to be sorry for, it's ok," he said softly, and you sniffled. "Don't cry, I promise it's ok," his thumb wiped a tear from your cheek as he gazed down at you. Your breathing was returning to normal, and your chest felt looser. You sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Why don't we get some sleep?" He asked, trying to change the subject. "I wanna take advantage of as much daylight as possible. Sooner we get there, the better, yeah?" You nodded and rubbed your nose on the back of your hand.

You waited until he got settled in his sleeping bag before tentatively reaching an arm over to drape across his chest. His eyes were closed but you saw him smile, and his hand came up to hold yours, bringing it up to his lips to plant a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

"You alright?" he whispered, turning his head to look at you now. You nodded.

"I will be," you said.

Over the next two days, Joel had you up at the crack of dawn to get started on your journey. The days were getting chillier, but the sun provided some warmth as you moved through the mountains. You were taking a small break, sitting on a guardrail eating while Joel examined his worn-out map, his eyes squinting at the paper. You poked him in the shoulder, startling him.

“You need glasses, old man?” you teased, and he couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. He shook his head at you before focusing back down on the map.

“I’m 37, not 77,” he muttered. You smiled as you looked up and down the highway, seeing nothing but a few abandoned cars, but then some rustling in the trees lining the road grabbed your attention. Joel held out his hand for your bow, hoping to snag a rabbit. You pressed it into his hand, and he grabbed an arrow from your backpack, loading it up and taking aim at the dense forest, waiting for the animal to show itself. But the animal that appeared was far bigger than a rabbit.

You blinked rapidly a few times, unable to process seeing a horse standing just 20 feet in front of you. Then, four more horses appeared through the trees, standing and staring at you. You assumed because you hadn’t seen a horse in so long that it took you an extra minute to realize there were riders on their backs. The people had their faces partially covered with bandanas and had their guns aimed directly at you.

“Drop the bow,” a woman’s voice said, taking you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’ve ever seen a female raider before.

Joel lowered the bow carefully, never taking his eyes off the woman in front who was clearly their leader. With the bow no longer obscuring his face, he held his hands up and jutted his chin out, sidestepping so he could block you with his body.

“Whaddya want?” he asked her roughly, his scowl returning. Before she could respond, another voice piped up from beside her.

“Joel?!”

His eyes swung to the man on the horse next to the woman as he yanked his bandana down, revealing his face for the first time. You gasped, then you both spoke in unison.

“Tommy?”

Chapter Eighteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[quietlyinlife]

yandere platonic father Leon S Kennedy 2

warnings; Overprotectiveness, isolation, obsession, unhealthy Behaviour, stalking, depression, murder, toxic Leon, Toxic behaviour, Helplessness

---

*A few years pass by and now you turned 16 years old. It is easy letting go happy memories but bad memories are hard to leave behind. They chase after you no matter where you run off to. They are not easy to forget. Just like your dad. All the mess that occurred between you and your parents; you somehow learned to live with it. So much that it came to the point you can't even bring yourself to smile anymore. Thus, breaking Leon's heart. He remembers when you were little, you would always jump into his arms whenever he came back from his long missions. telling him excitedly how much you missed him and forcing him to play with you to which he happily oblige.

*And now that you're older, you would always stay in your room all the time. Barely even get out of your safe space and your mother is concerned about you, she would sometimes come in only to see you busy yourself with homework. You always looked sad and empty, as if you are just a living shell. You were starting to act like Leon when he was a troubled man with a dark brooding expression and too busy with his missions to care for himself. And Leon had enough, he would knock on your door and force you to leave your homework or anything you were doing behind and join him in the living room with your mom.

*That's when the family discussion about your mental health starts. Leon would start the conversation, stating how concern he is becoming for you and if there is anything you need him to do for you to be okay. To which you act all confused and say you're fine. Your mom would attempt to save you from Leon's oncoming distress and fear of you doing anything to ruin your health by excusing that you are going through mood swings and it's normal. You are sick of your dad's pretense that nothing is wrong with him yet you don't do anything about it. Aware of the trouble it will bring.

*But your dad is stubborn, his eyes would turn firm and dark upon you. Usually back in your younger years, you would be terrified to speak and your eyes would look everywhere around the house besides meeting your dad's eyes. Now at the present, you would could only stare back at him with a blank expression as you calmly say that you're just too tired. If this behaviour of yours just happens only one time then Leon would have let this slide but it is concerningly happens everyday. You barely smile or laugh, you just either go on your laptop or do your homework and every time Leon comes home. He would find you sleeping on the couch or back on your bed.

*You don't even talk to your mom or him anymore, claiming that you don't know what to talk about. But Leon knows why, he knows that the discovery of his real side is haunting you.

"Trust me Y/n, I've seen more than you or your mom ever had. I saw the darkest side of this world and the people. What I do always have a reason, so trust me even if I'm too much. What I do, I do for you and your mom." Leon says as he held your hand while staring at you with genuine concern and softness. Yet you don't bother to gaze back at him. Keeping your eyes down.

*You know the true reality of your dad, behind his caring facade lies a monster who waits in the dark for potential victims to prey upon. You seen the way he stares at other men when they either attempts to ask you or your mom questions when you three would all go outside together. You can never forget that crazy and murderous look within his eyes in your peripheral vision when he stares at someone for a bit too long. Before snapping out of it quickly.

*You then get a therapist after making a promise to your mom that you won't say anything. Getting help is pointless considering the power Leon has. And after therapy sessions, your dad always comes to pick you up and the two of you would head to buy sweets and anything you want to eat as a way to cheer you up. Now, Leon is getting better at controlling himself around you. So well that you almost forget how your dad really is on the inside.

*You started to accept that your dad is never going to change, so asking for freedom to go and hang out with your friends is useless until one day. When your dad left, you asked your mom if you could for once go out with your friends and your mom whispered in your ear.

"Go out and have fun but come back before it's night time." And for the first time, you felt happiness explode in your heart.

*Your mom would always say no since she's scared that Leon would find out and cause a big deal out of it but now she is starting to be confident. But the way your dad found out that you know everything now remains a mystery to you and your mom. But you don't bother to care which is your big mistake.

*Then you met your mom's old friends and the way you saw your dad and his motorcycle in the background with his empty cold eyes staring at their back. You came to realize that your dad is anything but dumb.

*When the next day arrives, you saw the mysterious disappearance of your mom's friends and the blank expression of your mom. Leon didn't get mad at you or at your mom. He acted like nothing ever happened. But he did had a serious argument with your mom about you being let out. You felt like an animal being caged but you were sure your mom has it worse.

*In the middle of the night, your mom woke you up.

"Y/n! Get up, we need to leave now!" She harshly whispered to you as she shook you awake. "We can't live with your father anymore."

***

tags;

@chloeslilcorner

[moscnios]

hi zuko !!! may i have familial headcanons for the monster trio with a little brother figure that wants to follow in their footsteps (wants to be a pirate, a swordsman, a chef) ? like how they'd treat him, what they feel about him, et cetera... ! thank u if u do take on this request n i hope u have a good day <3

★ WITH A LITTLE BROTHER FIGURE WHO WANTS TO BE LIKE THEM! headcanons ★

── featuring. luffy. zoro. sanji.

── cw. m!reader. no pronouns used. familial pairings. implied younger reader. slight marineford and whole cake island spoilers. mentions of getting injured. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. i just think each of them would make such great older brothers, even though some are more reckless than others.

★ MONKEY D. LUFFY ★

── now the idea of having a younger brother has never really crossed his mind. he has always been among the youngest in his family

── but when you come along, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s so excited. but when you express that you too want to be a pirate, he’s ecstatic, he’s quite literally over the moon

── since you want to be a pirate like him he’s going to take you along with him and you’re going to be the first straw hat. how did the two of you even manage to make it out alive, no one knows

── luffy is the bad influence brother. he’s going to have you jumping right into the face of danger with no regard for safety whatsoever

── safety is not in his vocabulary

── luffy feels the need to be the cooler older brother to you in the way that ace and sabo were to him so that you can keep respecting him and thinking he’s the coolest big brother ever

── your opinion of him matters much more than you would think. if he ever found out you didn’t think he was cool anymore, he would burst into tears

── he knows you can handle your own and he would never get in your way. however, he can be a bit protective of you and is prone to worrying about you. if you disappear for even more than five seconds in a battle, he starts to get anxious

── he’s already lost one brother, and he is terrified to lose another one

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── zoro doesn’t have any siblings [ that we know of ] so he didn’t really have someone to show him how to be a brother. there are a million other people out there he could easily be your older brother figure, why in the world would even consider him, he thinks to himself

── when you approach him and say that you want to follow in his footsteps and be a swordsman, he supports you

── he saw a bit of himself in you. it was like looking in a mirror at his younger self

── he becomes your first teacher and a very harsh one at that. maybe a bit too harsh sometimes

── he struggles at being soft with his words and comforting you. he gives you his critiques and they end up sounding just like insults. you were starting to lose not only your confidence but also your interest. could you really even be a swordsman if you couldn’t even do this simple move without falling over and almost hurting yourself?

── your insecurities become too much when you almost get yourself killed trying to use a sword in battle after zoro told you that you weren’t ready.

── he never lost his cool with you. but that day, he did. as he was yelling at you, it was all too much and you just ran and hid in the library on the sunny. while talking with robin, he realized that he shouldn’t have yelled at you, that you were just trying to help out.

── when he found you crying, he felt awful. watching you try to hide your face and wipe away your tears because it was weakness and swordsmen weren’t weak, cut deep. that’s not what he wanted to teach you at all :(

── he apologizes to you and confesses that, he was just scared of losing you. he opens up to you about his past, showing you wado ichimonji, and just how much this sword meant to him. never did he ever want to lose someone close to him again.

── with time and very intense training of his own [ training meaning being threatened by nami that if he ever made you cry again, she’d throw him overboard ], he became a better instructor and older brother to you

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── with his complicated relationship with his brothers, sanji isn’t exactly looking to be someone’s big brother. even when you show up with those curious sparkles in your eyes

── though when you express interest in cooking, he’s more than happy to teach you the ropes to impress the ladies. ladies love a man who cares about their family, don’t they?

── he first teaches you the basics, the essentials, everything you need to know as a beginner, and simple but delicious recipes that you can cook for yourself. when he feels that you’re ready, he will slowly move on to more difficult techniques and recipes

── such as using a knife and cutting things correctly. you may have ended up cutting yourself a few times, it’s a painful part of the process, he tells you as he tends to your cuts and scrapes.

── sometimes the dishes that you worked hard on end up all weird and not at all how you imagined them. or sometimes they just end up burnt, leaving the kitchen with an awful smell

── sanji is just proud of you for not giving up. he admired your determination and independence…though he wishes you would let him help you sometimes. as your big brother that’s part of his job description. and so you wouldn’t dirty up so many dishes

── and as his younger brother, it’s in your job description to help him pick up ladies by making him look like the best older brother ever

── but it never works in the way that he hopes it will. so you just end up getting all the attention for the pretty women while he just sulks because that was supposed to be him

�� MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[amyispxnk]

And if you were my little girl

Summary - your dad sucks and you finally turn to Joel for help (summaries are my specialty can you tell)

A/N: SO my dad’s being a little bitchy and making me genuinely want to unalive a little bit, I remembered this song existed, Joel is the father we all wish we had, and here we are. Also I’ve (fortunately) never had to deal with an alcoholic so I’m sorry if it’s not written very well?

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (can probably be read as gn tho?)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: paternal issues (i refuse to say daddy sorry), alcohol mention, language, angst, comfort, a lot of tears, father Joel, implications of using certain methods to get things you want, verbal/physical abuse, blood

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Part 2 here

You reckoned you had stopped really taking the words in that he tried to threaten you with a long time ago, letting the curses and attempts to break you apart in through one ear and straight out the other. That way you wouldn’t be able to linger on them for too long; it was better that way.

“Where’s the fuckin’ drinks?” Your dad yelled, stumbling around the kitchen and throwing open the shelves in his search, met with nothing but dust. You skated around him as best you could but after he had almost torn apart the wood trying to find the alcohol, he turned to you.

Red in the face, sweating furiously with a look that could definitely kill you. Hands balled at his sides as he took a step towards you.

“D’you hide it again?” He said menacingly, trying to instil as much fear as he could into you, desperate for the liquid relief.

This time, you hadn’t hidden it. You knew better than to try and help him anymore, he couldn’t be fixed and you had to just accept it. When you were younger, when you were more stupid, more hopeful, you had tried hiding it or disposing of it in secret to try and discourage his alcoholism - only to be met with a split lip and hundreds of salty tears spilling from your eyes, only to be ignored and discarded and yelled at and told you were useless before being sent out to go get more. Sometimes without money, him saying that you’d just have to find another way to get it.

You were so disgusted with the prospect of what he was surely insinuating, but thinking about what he might do if you came back empty-handed was somehow scarier to you at the time.

“Fucking answer me!” He snarled, pulling you up by your collar and glaring at you.

“I didn’t hide it- there’s none left, and there’s no way to get any right now. If you just calm-” You began, trying to keep your voice steady and your face void of too much emotion. You weren’t going to let him do anything. He didn’t scare you anymore.

“Well you best fuckin’ find some, you bitch!” He shoved you towards the door, knocking you onto the hard wooden floor in the process and watching you cry out in pain without so much as batting an eye, too fucking stubborn to even feel any remorse since he was always fucking right about everything like he was now.

“Don’t think about coming back here unless you find me it.” And with that, he slammed the door in your face, leaving you outside the apartment door in the hallway.

You let out a shaky exhale, hands raising and covering your face as you furiously wiped away any tears that threatened to spill. Your hands balled up in your face as you hit your head over and over. You had to think of something. No matter how much of a poker face you put on in front of him, you were still terrified deep down, that feeling would never go away no matter how long you’d been putting up with it for.

You ran through all of your usual options, but you genuinely couldn’t think of one that would work today. It was nearly impossible to get your hands on alcohol in the apocalypse with ration cards, without them you had to resort to other means and you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now.

Just when you thought that all hope was lost, the familiar and far-too-comforting Southern drawl of Joel Miller sounded from across the hallway.

“Y’alright sweetheart?” He asked cautiously. He had heard some banging coming from your apartment and had opened the door to find you standing there, tugging at your hair in frustration and looking like you were about to explode.

You turned to face him, opening your mouth to speak but not really knowing what to say.

How many times had this happened? How many times had your own father terrorised you for any minor inconvenience and blamed you for everything, made you feel stupid and worthless of any attention or love? And how many times had Joel still given you that attention, that love, or whatever it was. Maybe it was love, maybe he was just being nice to you, but you told yourself that’s what love was since you knew no better. Growing up in this world was cruel enough, but without anyone who truly loved you and liked to make sure you knew that every day, nobody to protect you from the monsters - infected and human - that inhibited it, that felt like the worst fate you could suffer.

So were you alright? No. No, of course you weren’t. But you’d say you were just like you had every time, because you didn’t want to bother people with your ‘issues’. As well as numbing yourself from feeling any intense fear or sadness as a result of your father’s endless torment, you also found it incredibly difficult to take pity on yourself. You always felt like your issues were never that real, that your father had a hard life and maybe you should just let him take it out on you.

“I’m..” you began, mustering up a pathetic excuse for a smile as you glanced from his face to the ground in front of your feet, “I’m fine, thank you.”

You knew the exact expression which would be on his face without even needing to look up, having seen it too many times. That one where he looks worried, his brows furrowed as he tries to pick you apart and figure out what the hell was actually going on, slightly angry too as this kept on happening and you still refused to tell him anything. Did you not trust him? Did he do something wrong? He knew he was threatening to people, that’s what he was known for in the QZ. But he had never done anything to you, he’d always tried helping you but you never talked or anything at all with him.

“Do you um- do you have any beer? Any alcohol would be fine really, I just need it right now. I can pay you but I don’t have any ration cards so it would have to be later on unless you could think of anything…” You trailed off at the end, not wanting to say it and give him the option in case he hadn’t thought of it yet, praying he wouldn’t want that.

“Yeah, I got some.” He murmured, before blinking a few times and opening the door to his apartment again, cogs turning in his brain as he still tried to figure out what happened.

“Come in, don’t need ya standin’ there like a lemon.” He said when you stayed fixed to the ground beneath you instead of following him inside like he had very clearly offered when he left the door open after walking in himself.

“Right.” You nodded as you entered his apartment, closing the door gently behind you and watching him as he went over to his cabinets and reached for some whiskey.

You took in his living space. It was clean, organised. The small entryway led straight into the living room which was linked to the kitchen space, a dusty couch in the centre of the room and a coffee table in front of it. A few books were on the table, along with some slightly cracked glasses. You never took Joel to be much of a reader, clearly you were wrong.

There were 2 more doors which were closed and you could only assume that they were the bathroom and his bedroom.

“Hope this ‘s okay.” He said as he appeared in front of you, bottle of whiskey in hand.

“You’re not drinkin’ this all by yourself, are ya?” A smirk appeared on his face as he attempted the light teasing with you, maybe that would cheer you up a bit.

Your expression bore a smile which faltered and faded quickly. If only he knew.

“No, no. It’s for my dad. He ran out so.. Yeah. How do you want me to pay?” You said quietly. Whatever it took, you supposed.

He noticed the dejected look on your face as you looked up at him. So tired. That’s what came to mind whenever he looked at you. Barely an adult and already looking like you were at death’s door whenever he saw you. Exhaustion clouded all of your features and your mind when you trudged up the stairs, down the corridor and up to your apartment door, entering as your shoulders somehow slumped even more.

“Y’ don’t needa pay, sweetheart.” He told you, and you blinked a few times in confusion.

“Really?” There was no way. Alcohol was so hard to come by, and here he was giving you a bottle for free?

“Yeah.” He nodded, making sure you had a good hold on the bottle before letting go of it and pursing his lips as he thought deeply yet again.

“‘F you ever need to talk or anythin’, I’m always here for ya, okay?” He said before you could leave, making you stop with your back towards him as you stood at the door.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered before leaving and returning to your own apartment.

After that, you found yourself on Joel’s doorstep a few more times - you didn’t go every time you needed something, not wanting him to think you were taking advantage of his kindness, so sometimes you were just genuinely hanging out with him.

He had some little books and crosswords, stories to tell you, and one time he’d even come across a VHS tape with a movie from the dawn of time on it which the two of you had watched one evening.

You stayed too late and definitely paid the price for it, but it was worth it, you told yourself as you cleaned the blood from your arms and hissed at the sting of a newly-formed bruise.

Then, one evening, it finally fell apart. He threw you out of the house, quite literally, and you were already knocking on Joel’s door before you could realise what you were doing.

He opened the door and you slammed yourself into him, causing him to let out a little cough as he stumbled back, arms tentatively wrapping around you.

“Woah, woah, y’alright sweetheart?” He asked, taken aback by your sudden action.

“Joel, I- I'm sorry.” You choked out, tightening your hold on him and fisting his shirt.

He ushered you gently into his apartment, closing the door behind you and sitting you down on the couch.

“What's goin’ on? What happened?” He said, watching as you trembled, lip quivering as you tried to formulate a sentence without bursting into tears.

You ultimately failed at that. Only managing the words my dad before a pained sob wracked through your entire body and you were crying into your palms.

Joel rushed to your side, pulling you into him and rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly.

“‘s okay. You can talk to me, tell me what's goin’ on honey.” He told you, pulling back slowly from you to try and make you look at him, frown deepening on his face when he saw how upset you were.

“He- he- kicked me out, ‘cause I didn't- I lost the cards and- he got too angry at me so then- I was mad at him back and he hurt me so I said I didn't want to stay and he-” You stuttered, trying to actually remember what had happened in the first place then explain it as best you could.

His jaw clenched with anger. How could someone do that to their own child? Your father had clearly put you through so much emotionally and physically, and you had done nothing wrong. You were a good kid, and you deserved better than that. He could be better for you.

Your shaky breathing filled the room as he came back to his senses, willing his fury to stop clouding his head so he could focus on what was more important right now - you. He'd deal with him later.

His thumb reached up and wiped a stray tear from your face before he pulled you close again, hugging you tight.

“You stay here, okay? ‘m so sorry sweetheart. I won't let anythin’ bad happen to ya. Y’just gotta let me help you.” He said as you nodded into his shirt, a weak mm-hm muffled by the fabric before he slowly rose from the couch and walked into his kitchen.

He came back with a glass of water, offering it to you. “Drink this.” Your cautious fingers closed around it and brought it to your lips.

“‘s gonna be okay. You can stay here, if you want?” You had come to him, obviously hoping he'd ask you that, but hearing him actually say it gave you relief like nothing else could.

“Y-yes, please.” You said, putting the glass back down on the coffee table as he nodded, helping you up and taking you to his room.

“I'll stay out there on the couch for a bit, okay? ‘til we can sort somethin’ a little more proper out for ya.” He told you, going to find you some clothes that weren't almost completely torn up.

When he returned, he saw you blankly staring at the floor, hands fingering the same strand of hair mindlessly and not even realising him walking up to you.

He sighed, handing you the clothes and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It'll be okay sweetheart. Nothin’ bads gonna happen anymore, he can't hurt you here.” He assured you, hugging you one more time before he left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and requests are open 💞

[an-ambivalent]

Can I request hcs for yandere Itachi and Deidara as they courted their s / o? What would make them kidnap her??

Warnings: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with behaviours  that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl. By clicking the 'read more/keep reading' you are consenting to read this at your discretion. Specific trigger warnings: stalking, brief implications of human tr**icking.

Also, I only wrote for Itachi. I was going to do both Itachi and Deidara but Itachi's scenario got too long and I don't feel like writing anymore (ya girls got essays due T_T)

(A/N: This is set in an AU where the Uchiha clan's massacre hasn't happened yet and Itachi is about 19+ years old; whatever age you like your men in dear reader)

What made him fall in love?

~Few months ago, you were finally promoted to ANBU. While you weren't made an ANBU at a prodigal young age like Itachi or Kakashi, it was still a commendable achievement to be promoted at your age. So far, majority of the missions you were assigned had been solos or with other insignificant characters from the show, and they hadn't been too life threatening. Until your first mission with the ANBU leader Itachi.

~Your mission was to assassinate the leader of a rebellious group who had been causing trouble for the businessman that had hired you. With the sensitive position he was in (double spy for his clan and the village), Itachi was long accustomed to setting his feelings aside and following the mission goal to a T, no matter what. Typically, so were you. However, in the admist of the mission, as you two were separately engaging in your assigned tasks, you had found that your employer was actually running a red district business involving people that were forced to be there. You had no time to discuss this with Itachi; your body acted on its own. You shielded the rebellious group leader just as Itachi was about to assassinate him, and instinctively sent your weapon of choice where you knew the businessman hit and killing him instead.

~Subsequent to getting Itachi caught up about the situation and prior to your departure back to the village, Itachi pulled you aside. With the most terrifying glare he could mustered, he told you off for your incompetency and jeopardizing the mission by putting your feelings first. He was going to threaten you to be demoted, but before he could, you returned his glare with one of your own, and had a kunai against his throat; ready to kill him.

Both of you knew that he could easily turn the situation around; but he held back momentarily, intrigued to see what someone like you, who dared to threaten your superior, the Uchiha heir much less, had to say.

"It's really easy for you to put aside your morals and blindly do whatever the Village and your clan tells you to because you were never strong enough to hold onto your humanity. But not all of us are cowards like you. Some of us are still human and value innocent lives - we fight to protect in what we believe in, not just heartless kill whatever the fuck those bastard elders tell us. Do what you want to do, I don't care." You hissed. Then, you pulled your kunai away from his neck, and walked away - not before scoffing at him one last time.

Your words had cut deep into Itachi. The entire way home, as not a single word was exchanged between the two of you, he could not stop thinking about how when he was younger, he too used to cherish human life. And while his entire life, everyone praised him for what a strong shinobi he was and he knew that, he got so lost in their words that he never realised that he had gotten too weak to even consider the possibility of following his own path, rather than the one his village or his clan had predetermined for him.

Courting:

~Itachi expressed his affections and 'confessed' subtly and indirectly. He would leave flowers by your front door step, your favourite snacks and drinks in your locker at the ANBU headquaters and they had little notes attached to him like:

I love your eyes when you smile.

Your beauty shines brighter than the moon.

I prefer the smells of rosemary over vanilla in your hair so why don't you always wear the rosemary shampoo instead?

~At first, you found notes and gifts from your secret admirer endearing. However, when they started showing up at your abode, and with notes that were obviously creepy like the third one, you were scared. You started to feel on edge, and with the nervousness of knowing they were watching you, you found it harder and harder to sleep.

~You were a trained ANBU; so evidently, less sleep didn't mean much. Until it was on like that for too long and all the exhaustion started to wear you down. The worst fright came when you had realised that you knew someone was watching you, but you never noticed someone watching you. This meant that whoever was your secret stalker admirer, was far more skilled predator than you were.

Kidnapping:

~Itachi waited for you to return his affections and confess to him. He thought he had made his feelings clear enough through his gifts and notes. But there was no change from you; you didn't approach him, or give any indication that you returned his feelings. Was it because of his clan? The village? Did you think they would get in your way and do something to you? Because if it was fear, he would protect you.

~Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that they would get in his way. Before, Itachi would have just ignored his feelings in the favour of completing his assigned mission. However, to be good enough for you, he wanted to change and be true to himself. Itachi failed to realise that you didn't even know it was him who was your "secret admirer."

But, it was meant to be because of his new and last mission in Konohagakure. If he finishes this mission, he will have his clan off his back and the village elders won't be a problem. He will have to leave, and he will take you with him.

You were absolutely terrified when for once, you had finally managed to fall asleep, but then you were abruptly awaken from your deep slumber. You opened your eyes to find Itachi, staring down at you with his brilliant and petrified red eyes, and covered in blood. The sharingan pattern in his eyes was different from his typical three tomes, which scared you even more.

"You don't have to be scared anymore. Nothing will get in our way; we can be finally be together."