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kookooluvr · 2 months ago

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Teach Me How To Love - Part 3

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 6.7k

warnings: we get to know the besties a bit, jihyo and tae being our cutesie side characters <3 oc and jk both spill the beans to their friends,mentions of the infamous ex (booo, throwing tomatoes), oc buys and wears lingerie for jk, she sends him a photo in said lingerie, explicit sexual content; making out, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, squirting, soft dom jk, multiple orgasms, jk learns something new about oc, jk's in his feelings, my poor baby, jk's also a teeny tiny bit of a stalker...but in a sweet way if that makes any sense :)

author's note: part 3 took longer than i would've liked bc my procrastination was kicking my ass. anyway, pls enjoy !!! things will start being a bit more eventful from part 4 onwards so bear with me 🤪🫶🏼 as usual, make sure to like, reblog and pleeeaaase share all your thoughts and feelings about these kiddos <3

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @mimi1097 @livinluvl @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @puppybunnyjkay @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's been a week since Jungkook came over. You spoke here and there in passing but you haven't had a chance to actually hang out again after that night because you're both just too busy prepping for final exams before the long awaited summer break. This time of year is always a bit crazy for both the students and the educators, which leaves you with almost no time to mess around with cute economics professors.

You've been a bit stressed out all week, so you really weren't planning on spending your Saturday in a busy mall, looking through racks of lingerie, and yet that's exactly what you're doing. Why? Because Jihyo texted you saying she needed your help in buying something sexy to wear on an upcoming date she has with some guy she met at work. His name's Mark and from what she's told you about him, he sounds...promising.

Jihyo, unlike you, is looking for a boyfriend. Boy, is she looking. She's gone on about seven dates with five different men in the past couple of months and she is yet to find her Mr. Right. From what she's told you, she's looking for someone educated, tall, handsome, funny, and someone who can "match her freak". The closest she got to that was some guy she met at a club two months ago, who was lucky enough to get three whole dates before he eventually gave her the ick by referring to his mother as 'mommy'. For her own sanity, you hope Mark won't make that same mistake.

However, Jihyo's mind isn't on Mark right now. Oh no, she's much more focused on the man you're seeing.

"___, come on. We've been best friends since the fifth grade. Are you really going to look me in my eye and tell me you're not seeing anyone? And don't lie to me."

You roll your eyes, scanning the rack of pink satin and red lace, feeling the different fabrics between your fingers. One minute, you were asking her about Mark and how they met, and the next thing you know, you're being interrogated in the middle of a lingerie store.

"I'm not looking you in your eye. I'm looking at lingerie. Ooh, this is pretty."

Jihyo loves you, really, she does. You've known each other for most of your lives. That means she supports you in everything you do. That also means she can see right through your bullshit when no one else can. She's been suspicious of you and your apparent mystery man for a while now, and she won't stop asking you about him until she gets answers.

"I'm serious. I know you're seeing someone. You're not slick, babe. I know you inside and out, and I have really good intuition...and I might have seen a text I shouldn't have when your phone was on the table at the restaurant during lunch."

Dammit.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You feign ignorance, refusing to spill the beans even after practically getting caught. You and Jungkook both swore to keep it between the two of you. It's one of the rules. Who knows what will happen if you just start breaking rules all willy-nilly. Sure, it's not that big of a deal if you tell one friend, especially your best friend, but that's how it starts. You're breaking this rule, and then another and another until you're Robin Thicke and the lines are blurred.

"Cut the shit," Jihyo says dryly, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly unwilling to drop the subject. "Who is this mysterious 'prof jeon' and why was he asking you when you're free to see him?"

You let out a defeated sigh, looking over at her. You know that look on her face. She's just going to keep asking if you don't tell her and it's pointless lying about it. She can be a pain in your ass at times but she's definitely not stupid. And besides, she's your best friend. You'd be a bad best friend for not telling her that you're basically getting the best sex of your life, right?

Screw it.

"Okay, I'm not even supposed to tell anyone about it and it's really not a big deal but...I'm kinda sleeping with one of the other professors at work." You quickly press your lips together as soon as the words leave your mouth, looking back at the lingerie to avoid her eyes and all the questions you know you're about to be bombarded with in a second.

"What?!"

"Can you keep your voice down?" you whisper-yell, noticing a few people turning their heads to see what the sudden outburst was about.

"Sorry," she mutters with a snort, clearly not expecting that news. "Who is this professor? What's his name? Jeon who? Why didn't I know about this sooner? Since when have you-"

You cut her off before she can get the rest of her questions out.

"His name is Jungkook, he teaches economics, and before you ask, no, he's not my boyfriend or anything like that. I'm still not ready for that. We met a few months after I transferred to work at the university and we were just work-friends for the most part, but then we hooked up one night last year and it wasn't really supposed to happen again because we were a bit drunk but it was so good, and then it happened two more times and then...well, then we just agreed to keep having casual sex. That's it."

Jihyo is quiet for a moment, processing the information that was just thrown at her. How have you been sleeping with this man for a year and she had no idea? She's actually quite impressed that you could keep it a secret for that long.

"Wow."

"That's it? That's all you're gonna say?" you chuckle, turning around to look at her with a light blue lacey set in your hands.

"I just...I'm happy for you. I'm glad you're putting yourself out there again after Sunghoon. I really thought you were going to swear off men for the rest of your life after him."

And there it is. The reminder of the man you spent most of your teenage and early adulthood loving, the man who you thought you would grow old with, the bane of your existence. If it's not your friends or your mother reminding you of him, it's your own brain. You don't blame her for bringing him up, though. He is the main reason why you're so opposed to actually committing yourself to someone again.

"Yeah, well...it's not like Jungkook and I are dating or anything. It's just sex. No big deal," you mutter, not wanting to go down that road right now.

Jihyo knows your love life (or lack thereof) is a bit of a sensitive subject for you. She was there for you when Sunghoon broke your heart. She let you stay over at her apartment when you were too sad to be alone. She sat with you as you cried on her bathroom floor, so this is a big deal to her. This means that you don't spend your nights crying over that human shit stain anymore, and she doesn't blame you for keeping it private. All she really wants is for you to be happy.

"Still. It's progress, babe."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"So, uhh... how is he?" She grins, gesturing to her genital area, wanting all the long, girthy, veiny details. She can't help but be a little nosey. Besides, what's the point of having a best friend of almost two decades if you can't ask her about the juicy details of her sex life.

"I'm not telling you that, you pervert," you laugh, holding the lacey lingerie out for her to take. She takes it without even looking at it, her focus solely on you and your professor friend.

"You have to tell me. Okay fine, just give me a number from one to ten then... Looks?"

You sigh but decide to indulge her anyway. "Ten."

"You lucky bitch," she scoffs, looking very impressed. "Skills in the bedroom?"

"Nine point five."

"And you're exclusively hooking up, right?"

You nod.

"Okay, ___, please explain to me why we're in a lingerie store and you're not buying something to make this man drool over you," Jihyo deadpans, looking at you like you're insane.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not here for me. We're here for you and your date."

"And we're not leaving until we both get something." She starts looking through the racks with more determination. "You said Professor Sexyboots is a ten. You have to wear something sexy for him. At least for my sake."

"Professor Sexyboots? I'm sure he'd love that," you scoff, rolling your eyes at her ridiculous nickname for him.

Jihyo is about to respond when she looks up at something and freezes, her eyes widening, causing you to turn your head to follow her line of sight, your eyebrows raising. On one of the mannequins sits a stunning deep-red bra and matching thong, looking like something straight off a Victoria's Secret runway. It's gorgeous, with intricate lace detailing, and it's completely out of your comfort zone.

"No way, I can't."

"What are you talking about?! You'd look so hot. C'mon, it would be so fun. You could send him a little sneak peek and invite him over and he can take it off with his teeth," she snickers, having way too much fun with this whole thing.

You're not sure how exactly you let Jihyo convince you to buy the skimpy lingerie, but you did, which is why you're sitting in a rather suggestive pose in front of your floor-length mirror in your bedroom. It's silly to feel nervous about sending him a naughty photo. He's seen you naked more times in this past year than you can count, and yet this makes you nervous.

You take the photo and press send before quickly tossing your phone on the bed, letting out a deep sigh.

Jungkook is in the middle of watching some random show on Natural Geographic when he gets your text. He unlocks his phone and all the air gets knocked out of his lungs when his eyes land on the photo of you wrapped in the delicate dark red lace, muttering a breathless, "Sweet baby Jesus".

His fingers shake as he types out a reply, his heart hammering in his chest.

prof jeon [9:46pm]: i've never really been a very religious man prof jeon [9:46pm]: but damn, god is good 😳

You [9:47pm]: LMAO You [9:47pm]: come over

prof jeon [9:48pm]: aye-aye captain 🫡

He rushes to his room to get a hoodie, quickly putting it on while getting a confused look from a half-asleep Bam. He walks over to give the sleepy dog a quick kiss on his forehead and some scratches before getting his car keys, his body working faster than his brain. “Bam, daddy’s gotta go take care of aunty ___, okay? I’ll be back later.” And with that, he’s out the door.

He makes his way downstairs to the parking lot and gets in his car, fumbling with the car keys in a rush to get to your apartment. He knows he probably looks like a teenage virgin right now, but he doesn't care. You always manage to make his midsection tingle and his brain feel all scattered. When he finally manages to get the car started, it takes everything in him to stay within the speed limit as he drives over to you.

You're about to text him to ask how far he is from your apartment, when there's a knock at the front door. You wrap a robe around your body and go to answer the door, seeing a breathless Jungkook leaning his arm up against the wall in the hallway.

"Good evening, Professor," he grins, straightening up to walk inside, eyeing you from head to toe as you close the door behind him. Before you can get a chance to respond, his lips are on yours, his hands cradling your jaw as he kisses you, completely taking you by surprise.

You pull away to look up at him with wide eyes, letting out a little chuckle. "So just straight to the point? No small talk, nothing?"

"Is that what you want?" he asks, looking down at your robe-clad body. "Small talk? Want me to ask you how your day was before I spread your legs?"

"Not really, no."

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he mutters before his lips are back on yours. He picks you up by the back of your thighs in one swift motion, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you to your bedroom, eager to get that damn robe off.

He gets to the bedroom and gently lays you down on your back before hurriedly removing his glasses, pulling his hoodie over his head, his t-shirt following quickly behind. He leans down to hover over you, his lips kissing from your neck up to your lips, sensually licking into your mouth to taste more of you while his fingers trail up your thigh under the robe.

He pulls back to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his fingers slowly opening your robe. "Can I take this off?"

You nod and your robe is off within seconds, leaving you in nothing but the skimpy lingerie. His throat goes completely dry. "Fuck. You're trying to give me an asthma attack."

"You don't have asthma," you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"The point is that you're fucking hot, ___."

You scoff and pull him back down to crash your lips onto his, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. Your hands lightly travel up his biceps and shoulders, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. You slide your fingers through his hair and give it a little tug, pulling a soft moan from his lips. He loves when you play with his hair, and he especially loves when you tug on it, whether it's while he's kissing you or eating you out.

You pull away slightly to press a few light pecks to his lips, his stomach erupting with butterflies. "You're so good at that," he mutters, gently tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

"At what, kissing?"

"Mm," he hums with a lazy little grin on his face. "Might need you to demonstrate again, just to make sure."

You laugh, placing another kiss to his lips, lingering there for a bit before pulling away.

"Mm, one more," he whispers before his mouth is back on yours, his tongue tangling with yours as the kiss grows more heated.

He reluctantly breaks away from your mouth, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses on your skin.

He nips at your pulse point, his teeth leaving a little red spot on your flesh.

"Jungkook, I'm going to kill you if there's a mark," you mutter, but the huff of laughter he lets out tells you he doesn't care.

"You'll be fine," he chuckles, his voice hoarse with desire, his tongue tracing the mark he left behind. He leans on one hand while the other slowly trails up the side of your ribs, making its way to the back of your bra.

"This is so pretty," he whispers, giving your earlobe a little tug with his teeth. "Can I take it off yet?"

"Mhm," you nod, slightly arching your back off the bed to let him unclasp the bra. He slowly slides the fabric off your body and tosses it aside, kissing his way down to your breasts. He licks and sucks on each of your nipples before trailing slow, soft kisses down your stomach.

"Lift your hips for me, baby." You do as he says, his fingers hooking into the sides of the tiny lace thong, slowly pulling the fabric down your legs.

You spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening folds. The sight alone makes his sweatpants feel tighter. He kneels down at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs further apart. He kisses his way up your leg from your calf to your inner thigh, holding your ankle over his broad shoulder.

His lips inch even closer to your pussy, just a few centimeters from where you need him most. "Jungkook," you whine, your arousal growing by the second.

He chuckles teasingly, stopping at your inner thigh. "You're so whiny."

"Don't tease, Kook."

He grins, hovering his mouth over your pussy, his breath fanning over your folds. "Love seeing you all worked up for me," he murmurs, slowly licking his lips before pressing a feather-like kiss to your mound.

"Just shut up and eat me out."

"Yes, ma'am."

He starts slow with wet little kisses and licks to your clit, slowly building up a steady pace. He loves eating you out. He could go for hours if you let him, like a starved man getting a taste of his favourite food. Jungkook's always been more of a giver than a taker, your pleasure bringing him pleasure.

He's incredibly skilled with his tongue, knowing exactly what to do to have your legs trembling. He swirls and flicks his tongue, sucking and lapping at your clit to make your eyes roll back in your head.

"Fuck, Jungkook...feels so good," you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut.

He smiles against your pussy, feeling proud of every little sigh and moan he pulls from your lips. "You taste so good," he mutters before diving back in, licking a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them open.

"Just like that...oh my god, don't stop..."

He looks up at you with a dazed look in his eyes, his tongue lapping at you with skilled precision that makes your toes curl, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

"F-fuck, 'm gonna cum," you gasp, grabbing onto his hair to hold him in place, your eyes squeezing shut, your head spinning as the pleasure reaches a peak.

A few more sucks and flicks of his tongue and you're cumming, his hands holding you in place as he laps at your pussy, helping you ride out your high. He feels your thighs quivering, looking quite proud of himself. "You taste so fucking good," he murmurs, pressing a few soft kisses to your clit.

"Holy shit." You're breathless, your pussy pulsating, your heart racing.

He crawls up to hover over you, giving your lips a quick peck, his lips and chin glistening. "Still with me?"

"Mhmm," you grin, slowly opening your eyes to look up at him.

He smiles down at you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, your pretty eyes. He gently brushes some of your hair out of your face, his thumb lightly stroking your cheek. "You're beautiful, ___," he whispers, his voice laced with tenderness.

"Don't say that."

He furrows his brows in confusion, puzzled by your reaction. "Why not? It's the truth."

"Tell me I'm sexy...not beautiful."

He chuckles, slowly shaking his head, his expression filled with amusement and affection. "You're gorgeous," he whispers, lightly kissing your cheek, his lips trailing over to your ear. "And incredibly sexy."

"You gonna fuck me now?" You tease, your lips curling into a soft smile.

He almost laughs at your bluntness, the way you just get straight to the point, never wasting any time if you want something. Your assertiveness has always been a turn-on for him, not just in the bedroom, but in general.

"That's the plan, yeah."

"Let's get this show on the road then."

He gets up off you and removes his sweatpants and boxers, letting it lay somewhere on your bedroom floor. He's already hard, his cock standing tall, the tip already leaking a bit. He stands at the end of your bed, his hand wrapped around the base, his eyes glued between your legs, slowly trailing up to your face.

He crawls back on top of you, sliding his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and rubbing it over the head of his cock. "Ready, baby?"

You give him a nod and he slowly pushes into you, his hips gently moving forward. "Shit, you feel good," he groans, his voice coming out low and hoarse.

You sharply inhale through your nose, feeling that familiar stretch, your walls molding to the shape of him like it was made for him.

He thrusts slowly, bracing his forearms on either side of your head, his forehead resting against yours. His thrusts get deeper until he bottoms out, his breathing growing heavier, his moans going straight to your core. He buries his face in your neck, feeling your hands gripping the muscles in his back as he thrusts harder.

Your moans grow louder as he thrusts into you, your walls fluttering around him, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Fuck, that feels so good."

"Yeah? You like that, baby?" he grins, pressing wet kisses to your neck and chest.

You've never had a man make you feel the way Jungkook does. He knows exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to have you like putty in his hands. Your skin heats up, your heart pounding faster as he picks up the pace, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your back arch off the bed.

"Mmm, f-fuck...harder...h-harder, baby," you moan, feeling him lift one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside you, the new angle allowing him to thrust even deeper.

"Like that?" He grunts, sitting back on his knees, his thrusts hitting harder, his pace getting faster.

"Oh my god, right there...feels s-so good, Kook."

"Wanna cum again?"

You can barely form a coherent sentence anymore. Your moans mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills your bedroom, his thrusts making your pussy squelch.

"Use your words, baby."

"Wanna...wanna cum," you whine, feeling him hold your leg next to his head and press wet kisses to your ankle and calf, the pressure and pace of his thrusts feeling just right.

"Hold it." His voice is rough and demanding, a stark contrast to the gentle tone he usually uses with you outside of the bedroom, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

He ignores your whines and pleas for him to let you cum, thrusting as deep as he can go, his free hand reaching down to push his thumb into your mouth. Your body works on autopilot, sucking on his thumb. You swirl your tongue around it like you would do to his cock, causing his hips to stutter before he regains his composure.

"Such a good girl for me. Gonna make you cum so hard, baby."

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth to rub firm circles over your clit, the pressure paired with his thrusts making your head spin. The pressure starts to build in your lower stomach, and it feels different, better than it usually does, your pussy clenching down harder around his cock.

"Feels...f-feels like I'm gonna...p-pee..."

He lets out a faint chuckle, his hips moving with determination. "You're not gonna pee, baby," he mutters, his tone sounding almost teasing.

"H-how do you know?"

"Trust me, baby, I know. You're not gonna pee." He can tell you're close, your body practically begging for release as he rubs your clit faster. He looks down to where your bodies connect, seeing how swollen and puffy your pussy looks, the sight making his cock twitch. "It's gonna feel so good, baby, I promise."

"Gonna...gonna cum-"

"I know, baby. Let go for me...let it all out."

You cum with a loud cry, your body convulsing beneath him, your vision going blank as the pleasure hits you. It feels relentless, like nothing you've ever felt before, and he's made you cum many times before.

"Fuck, that's my girl." His thrusts slow down but they don't stop, keeping his pace steady to help you through it. "That's it, baby...ride it out..."

Your body trembles as you come down from your high, barely able to register him pulling out. Your eyes are half open as you watch him stroke himself above you, his face contorting in pleasure, his abdomen tensing. He finishes with a guttural moan of your name, painting your stomach and breasts with warm strings of cum.

"Fuck. I think I just saw Jesus," he breathes out, his chest heaving as he gasps for air.

"Yeah? What did he tell you?" You chuckle breathlessly, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"He said you squirted."

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head, looking down to find his lower stomach and pelvis drenched.

"Oh my god," you groan, your words muffled by your hands as you cover your face.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed. It was probably the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he murmurs with a faint chuckle, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him, his face looking rather smug.

"You look very pleased with yourself."

"Can you blame me? I made you feel so good, you practically exploded all over me," he grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. "Ohh, she's so swollen now. She took a bit of a beating, huh?"

You let out bashful scoff, your cheeks heating up at his choice of words.

He quickly gets up to go and clean himself off in the bathroom, coming back to slip his boxers back on. He watches you slowly get up off the messy bed, your knees feeling weak as you clumsily walk off to the bathroom, needing a hot shower after that intense session. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands as he watches you stumble.

"Legs a little wobbly there?" he teases, unable to stop the amused smile from spreading across his face.

"Shut up," you mutter as you make your way to the bathroom, earning a little laugh from him.

While you're in the shower, he takes it upon himself to remove the dirty covers and sheets from your bed, looking for your lavender room-spray on your vanity. He knows you always spray it around the room after sex, and he knows you keep it on your vanity, but for some reason he can't find it there. What he does find, however, is a framed photo he's never seen before. You're in it, and it looks like it was taken on the day of your undergrad graduation ceremony. You're standing next to a younger-looking girl, whose face is quite similar to yours. She is just slightly taller with shorter hair. Jungkook doesn't know much, or rather anything, about your family, but he assumes the girl in the photo is your sister.

He picks up the frame and goes to sit down on the bed, inspecting it closely. He feels a bit guilty, like he's been caught red-handed for snooping when you come out the bathroom wrapped in your robe, your eyes landing on the frame in his hands.

"What're you doing?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, his eyes growing wide, feeling like a child that's been caught stealing. "I just...I was looking for your room spray...or mist, whatever it is, and... I, uhm, I don't know, I guess this just caught my eye. I've been here many times but I've never really looked around, y'know?"

You nod slowly, going to sit next to him at the edge of the bed.

"Is this...your sister?"

You look up at him, seeing the surprise on his face.

You and Jungkook have sex. You work at the same university. You're "work-friends" and that surprise on his face is a reminder of how little he truly knows about you, how little of yourself you actually share with him. He knows you have a cat, but he doesn't know you have a sister. He knows the way you take your coffee, but he doesn't know anything about your childhood. It's a stark contrast to how much you know about him. You know his favourite foods because he's very specific about where he gets his takeout from. You know his favourite brand of beer because he always has it stocked up in his fridge. You know all about his family dynamics because he speaks about them all the time, that his brother just had a baby, that her name is Mijoo. You know all of his hobbies and interests because you're quite observant and he's very open, never feeling the need to keep anything to himself. You're similar in some aspects of your personalities, and yet very different.

"Yeah, that's my sister, Yuna," you murmur softly, looking down at the photo with a tight-lipped smile.

He absorbs this new information, a mix of feelings swirling inside him. Part of him feels slightly hurt. Four years of knowing each other and a year of hooking up, and he's only just found out you have a sister. He's an open book, always sharing all these intimate details about himself with you, yet you keep so many parts of yourself hidden from him. He wonders if it's just in your nature or if you deliberately keep him at arm's length, preventing him from getting too close.

At the same time, a small spark of hope lights up within him. You're not completely shutting him down so that's good. Maybe this is a sign that you're actually opening up to him for once. It might seem minor, but he takes it as a huge step forward with you.

He has a million questions he wants to ask, but settles for, "What's she like?"

There's a beat of silence before you speak. "She's, uhm...she's three years younger than me, and she's probably the most extroverted person you'll ever meet, so we're...very different," you scoff, smiling fondly at the thought of your baby sister.

He listens intently as you talk about your sister. He wants nothing more than for you to let your guard down with him, and this is a start. It's small, but it's something.

"That must make for an interesting sibling dynamic, hm?"

"We actually get along great in spite of that. We grew up super close, so..." You speak softly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with showing even just a hint of vulnerability in front of him. "So, yeah. Now you know that about me."

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Now I know."

You gently take the frame from his hands and walk over to your vanity, putting it back in its place. You pick up the lavender room spray and turn to him with a faint smile. "This what you were looking for?"

"There's the damn thing," he scoffs, the familiar scent filling his nose as you give the room a spritz. "Is that to get rid of the smell of me?"

You chuckle, but you don't deny it.

The room falls silent again, and he takes it as his cue to get out of your hair, seeing as it's already midnight and he doesn't want to push his luck.

"I should, uh...I should go. It's late and I don't wanna keep you out of your beauty sleep," he jokes, slowly getting up to put his clothes back on.

"I'll walk you out." He wishes, just once, that you would ask him to stay, but he knows you won't. He walks behind you, stopping at the front door. He so badly wants to reach out and take your face in his hands, to kiss your lips and ask you to let him spend the night with you, but when you open the door for him, he simply puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and walks out into the hallway.

"Thanks for tonight," he mumbles, looking down at you with a soft look in his eyes. "It was fun."

"Yeah, it was," you smile, tilting your head to lean against the half-open door.

He just looks at you, not making a move to leave. He has so much he wants to say right now, but he swallows it down, just like he always does, not wanting to overstep.

"Well...goodnight."

"Night, Jungkook."

He takes a small step back, reluctantly turning to leave. "Goodnight, ___," he mumbles, looking back at you with a soft smile.

You chuckle, sensing his reluctance to leave. "Goodnight, Jungkook."

He turns and starts walking away, his feet feeling heavier with each step. Just as he's about to make a U-turn and walk back to you, he hears the soft click of your door shutting, the lock echoing in the empty hallway.

He sighs and walks over to the elevators, going down to his car. He mentally kicks himself for feeling so disappointed. He's always known that you keep yourself guarded, and he thought he could handle it, could play by your rules, could be content with a primarily physical relationship. He could before. But right now, sitting in his car in the silent parking lot, he's reminded of how weak he really is.

He leans his forehead forward against the steering wheel, the weight of his feelings sitting heavy in his chest, muttering a soft, "Fuck."

With a heavy sigh, he starts the car and drives home, his brain taunting him with the fact that romance isn't a possibility for you and him.

On Monday, Jungkook is back in work mode. He tries to squeeze in as many revision lectures as he can the closer it gets to final exams. It's around 3pm when he finally gets a breather, so he goes to his usual spot for lunch.

He sits in the empty lounge, like he does almost every day. Why this specific lounge? Because if he looks out the window, he has a perfect view of you sitting below, eating your lunch on your usual bench. Sometimes you're alone, sometimes you're with another lecturer, and on rare days you just have lunch in your office.

"There you are." He hears Taehyung's voice as he walks into the lounge, sitting down across from him with a huff. "You weren't answering your phone."

Jungkook doesn't respond, his eyes not wavering. He looks out the window with a dopey look on his face, watching you eat your gimbap. Taehyung follows his line of sight, catching on rather quickly.

"So... you taking an online course on how to be a stalker, or...?"

"What are you talking about?" He scoffs, looking over at Taehyung before his eyes inevitably drift back down to you.

"You're staring like a creep," Taehyung laughs, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Is she that professor I saw you talking to the other day?"

"Mm." Jungkook knows how nosey his best friend can be, and he knows exactly what's going on in that head of his.

Taehyung gives him a knowing smile. He doesn't even have to say much, already knowing it's only a matter of time before Jungkook spills.

"You have a thing for her, huh?"

Jungkook looks at him with wide eyes, feeling exposed without even confessing anything. "What? I didn't even say anythi-"

"Don't bother," Taehyung chuckles, "You're not very subtle, man. Your eyes give you away."

Jungkook feels his cheeks burn, knowing he's been caught. He hates how transparent he is, that his feelings are written all over his face. "Fine. But it's not a big deal."

Taehyung gives him a look that says, 'You sure about that?'

Jungkook looks at his friend, then down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. There's a long silence before the word-vomit eventually spills out of him.

"We've been having sex for a year and it was just casual at first, well...it still is casual, and we set a few rules so that there's still boundaries between us, but then I started developing feelings and she's just so guarded, like, she won't open up to me and I know that if she finds out I have feelings for her, she'll pull away and it'll ruin everything," he rambles, the words tumbling out like he's been dying to tell someone. He knows it was supposed to stay between the two of you, but he trusts Taehyung implicitly and he knows his friend would never judge him or the situation.

Taehyung looks at him with raised eyebrows, listening to him ramble on about the whole situation, trying to wrap his head around it. He knows how much of a softie Jungkook is and he never thought he would ever hear him say he has a friend with benefits.

"Damn, dude...you look like you needed to get that off your chest."

"I guess I did, yeah," Jungkook murmurs with a little scoff.

"Okay, so, she explicitly told you she's not interested in you romantically?"

"Well, no, she didn't say it directly, but she doesn't have to," Jungkook sighs. "She's made it clear more than once that she's not looking for anything serious from me."

"Damn," Taehyung murmurs, his face full of sympathy. "Has she said why?"

Jungkook looks back out the window, looking down at you with a melancholy expression on his face. "I know it's something to do with her ex, but she won't tell me the full story, so I don't really know what happened. I know she's been hurt before and she's wary of it happening again. I know she's not ready for anything serious, and I respect that. It's just..."

"You thought it would be enough for you?" Taehyung asks softly, carefully.

"Yeah."

"But it's not?"

"Would it make me an awful, selfish person if I said it's not?"

"No," Taehyung says firmly, a soft smile forming on his face. "It would make you a human being with a soft heart and strong feelings."

Jungkook scoffs, feeling guilty for simply thinking of being with you in a romantic sense. He knows you've been through some hard things in the past, and all he wants is a chance to prove himself to you.

"Do you want to tell her how you feel about her?"

"I don't know," Jungkook mutters, a slight pout forming on his lips. "I keep going back and forth about it in my head. Part of me wants to tell her and lay all my cards out on the table for her...another part of me is scared of pushing her away even further."

Taehyung goes silent for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. "Is the sex good?"

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his friend. "You have the worst timing."

Taehyung chuckles, shrugging like he just couldn't help but ask.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but gives in, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's...it's really good. Probably the best sex I've ever had, if I'm being real."

"Wow," Taehyung scoffs, his eyes wide. "I'd say you should wife her but...y'know..."

Jungkook gives him a dirty look, once again getting a slap from reality, Taehyung subtly wincing at his friend's misfortune.

"Look, I want to say screw her and it's her loss because you're a fuckin’ catch...but I mean, I get that she's just being cautious because of whatever happened with her ex."

Jungkook sighs, nodding slowly.

"Yeah. I just wish I could prove to her that I would never hurt her, that I would respect her and treat her right." Jungkook mentally curses your ex for screwing things up for him. He just wants a fair shot with you. "She's such a beautiful woman and she doesn't even see it."

Taehyung nods, looking out at you through the window. "Yeah, she's very attractive."

"No, I mean, she's stunning, but...the way she speaks, the way she acts, the person she is...she's just so beautiful. I want her for so much more than her physical being," Jungkook murmurs softly, his heart yearning to show you just how lovely he thinks you are.

"Honestly, I think the best thing you can do for her is be her friend if that's all she needs for the time being and slowly try to bring down her walls little by little. And if that doesn't work, then I think you should keep your options open. I know this sucks, dude, but you have to think of yourself too. You can't try to mend her while breaking yourself."

Taehyung is a wise man, and Jungkook trusts his judgement. He teaches literature, for crying out loud. He reads Shakespeare for a living. He should be well versed in these things.

"Yeah," Jungkook nods, taking in Taehyung's advice. "I guess you're right, Tae. Thanks for listening to all my crap."

"Hey, you're my best friend. No sweat." He goes quiet before casually asking, "So, do you think she has a friend for m-"

"Tae-"

"Wrong time, my bad."

< Part 2 || Part 4 >

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

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generalsmemories · 2 years ago

Text

How do I tell my husband he got scammed into buying a lion?

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ summary: during one autumn afternoon you're suddenly faced with another one of your husband's impulsive purchases. only that this time it's a living being.

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, might be a bit ooc

✧ a/n: hello there hsr fandom! i have unfortunately lost the battle against myself on making another sideblog for jing yuan, the man who has singlehandedly occupied my mind since his first appearance in the beta. i do hope that this will actually appear in the tags, but every infomation you would need if you want to request something is all up on the blog if you so wish! i hope we can have a pleasant time together !!

also this is not beta-read, we die like how fast my resolve to not create a jing yuan blog died.

Being the spouse of the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu comes with it's share of benefits and disadvantages. For one you're regarded at a higher position than most of it's citizens, often being stopped on the side of the road when taking a walk to exchange numerous pleasantries with merchants from outside of Xianzhou, various store owners or cloud knights on duty.

Another factor is shouldering the burden your husband has on his shoulder, an oath you had taken yourself the day you accepted Jing Yuan's nth proposal. You considered that a fair trade with his vast knowledge and insight into a possible future and doing everything behind the scene to avoid colliding headfirst into said problem. A feat that attracted you towards the general in the first place, minus his dashing looks of course.

The biggest disadvantage of publicly announcing that you were indeed the Arbiter-General's significant other was doing everything within your power to not throw your husband's famous title away for a newer, more terrible one. (more utc!)

Because as you see him walking up the steps of the Seat of Divine Foresight, your gaze is not locked with your husband's smiling face, rather it's fixated on the small being he has cradled in his arms. The soft smile you had quickly spreading into a more nervous and confused smile as you glance over at Qingzu, the counselor looking at you with just as much confusion.

How in the world did you manage to leave him alone out in the market area for an hour and he comes back with a lion cub?

"[Name], darling! Look at this grimalkin that a merchant had!"

A what now?

"... A grimalkin, you say?" Every book that has recorded history had specified that the grimalkin species had gone extinct, and you were well aware that your husband knew this fact. And yet here you were, faced with his smile directed down towards what you can clearly tell is a lion cub, his thumb pressing down at its paws affectionately.

You're starting to think that Yanqing's impulsive purchases with his sword collection aligns with your own husband's impulsiveness.

Coughing loudly into your hand, you take a deep breath before descending down the stairs to be on the same level as Jing Yuan, peering down onto the cub's face. It was indeed cute, and judging by how enamored Jing Yuan is, you can clearly tell that it's small stature is what attracted him to it in the first place.

Oh he's going to be crushed when it grows up, "It's adorable, Jing Yuan," you settle on saying, waving a finger over the lion's grimalkin face, the animal lifting its paws to try to grab it. You shoot a look towards Qingzu, a silent command for her to look into which outer merchant was now scamming people into buying literal lions. The counselor quickly excusing herself to look into the matter immediately, Jing Yuan only giving her a smile and a wave of his hand as she scurries down the stairs.

"Right? I decided to name it Mimi," he muses, and your heart breaks a tiny bit for him, but there are more pressing matters at hand than the fact that your husband once again got scammed because he was most likely bored out of his mind.

You would rather that the Xianzhou citizens know him as "The Dozing General" instead of the general that gets scammed a few times too many. How does one even go on about trying to tell their husband that the grimalkin in his arms is actually a lion?

"A fitting name indeed," you mutter, raising a hand to caress Jing Yuan's cheek, a simple gesture to make the general direct his attention to you. However, you could still see that his guard was slightly up with you. You only chuckle at that, leaning in to slide your lips over his own, Jing Yuan wasting no time to press back.

Another well hidden secret reserved for the walls of the Divine Foresight is the fact your husband is incredibly weak for his own spouse.

"... Want to tell me how much you paid for Mimi, dear?" you ask in a whisper when your lips part, thumb caressing over the mole under his eye.

Jing Yuan merely smiles, twisting his head to press his lips against your hand instead, "It was from my personal wallet, dear. Please don't fret over the small details."

"Darling, I hope you're aware that the small details would be the necessary funding for accomodation, toys and food, right?" you say with a chuckle, your husband freezing with his ministrations upon remembering that fact.

Oh well, you want to see how long it takes before your husband comes to realization that it's a lion. You just have to be extra vigilant towards the numerous fundings in the meantime.

While scrolling through your schedule for the next morning, your phone dings with a message from Qingzu. You quickly look down at Mimi whose resting on your belly and then at Jing Yuan whose sleeping self is still snoring away by your shoulder before letting out a small sigh in relief that the loud noise didn't awake any of them.

Qingzu:

Do I even have a say in this?

Was the message sent by Qingzu, attatched to it is a picture taken of what you can only presume is one of Jing Yuan's "diaries". The contents of it making you let out a low laugh, the shaking making said man beside you grumble before pressing his face into your neck.

Attatched image:

"Eventually, I paid hefty sum for the grimalkin, named it "Mimi", and took it home. Only that I'm too busy with official business and have little time to take care of Mimi. After thinking it over, chores like feeding it and changing its water should also be entrusted to Qingzu. I do wonder why [Name] looked so distraught when they first saw Mimi though. Maybe they didn't think I would favor the petite and small animals instead of the usual large and strong ones?"

[Name]:

So Qingzu, do you have an idea what the easiest way to tell someone they got scammed is?

Qingzu:

That is the role of the spouse, not the counselor.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #star rail x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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luimagines · 6 months ago

Note

Maybe a scenario where the chain is female hero's Era and they meet her era's link which is her little brother of like 6 and she confesses that the quest was actually for him.

LITTLE LINK!?!!?!?!? MY LOVE, MY LIFE, MY SON!?!? ABSOLUTELY!!!! XD

Everybody get ready for more Lucky. I will never have enough of this boy. ^.^*

Side note: Reader is written as Gender Neutral per the rules of the blog, but this isn't really about them anyway. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Just a little closer." You say under your breath as you push aside the surrounding foliage. You step into a well beaten path. there's roots sticking out of it and the dirt is bare and dry, but you know that it's safe to travel along and that it'll take you straight to your destination.

"We've been walking for hours." Legend groans. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost." You hold the branch open for the others to pass through.

"This Link of yours must be a pain in neck to get to if his lives this far out into the middle of nowhere." Hyrule spits out a leaf.

You snort, keeping it vague for the sake of keeping him safe. They'll know the truth soon enough and frankly, you're scared to see the aftermath. "It's just up the path."

"Finally!"

"Come on! Let's go!" Wind cheers and takes off running, following swiftly by Wild, Wolfie and Four.

You try to keep a leisurely pace, knowing you're going to need all the energy you can reserve for when you arrive. You want to run just as much as the others, but you know better.

Time seems to have caught on and gently smacks your shoulder. "You never said how you happened to meet him."

"I didn't?" You smile, playing it coy. "Strange."

"This is it?" Four asks with a skeptical look.

Just beyond the hill is a run down cottage. There's holes in the roof and the fence is broken in many areas. The forest and meadows around it are about to over take the small house and return the woods of its skeleton back to where they came from.

You try to hold back a bitter smile and the way your heart swells at the familiar sight. You pat Four on the shoulder and keep walking towards the cottage. Putting your fingers to your mouth, you let out a shrill whistle and keep walking.

A beat passes, setting the young men behind you on edge before the door of the cottage all but bursts open. You can feel some of the boys reach for their weapons but they hesitate when you start hollering in excitement.

Your calls are answered back by a small body that comes running out of the cottage at full speed. It comes out like a shot and b-lines for you with the intent to tackle. You catch the familiar mop of blond hair and laugh, peppering the small boy with kisses and tickles.

The group behind you is stunned.

"Bubbah! You're home! You're home!" The child cries.

You smile, getting a little teary as you hold the child closer. "I get to stay for a little bit this time before I travel again. I wanted you to meet some friends of mine. They've been very excited to meet you."

The little boy looks over your shoulder and gasp, a bright grin covering his face. "New people! Hello! Welcome to my house!"

You set him down with a proud smile as he runs to the Chain. He stops in front of them, holding his hand out like the polite gentleman he's growing up to be. "My name is Link, what's yours?"

Twilight bites the bullet and kneels to his level, shaking his hand. "Why- My name is Link too! It's great to meet you!"

You sighs and look back to the house. Your grandmother must still be inside. Age has not been kind to her.

The introductions are going on behind as your brother gets more and more amused that they all share the same name. He laughs, bright and joyfully and still the child you've fought so hard to keep. "No wonder you wanted to meet me too!"

"Yeah.... That's why." Legend clenches his jaw in a tight smile. He catches it quickly, the mark of the Triforce of Courage already on his little hand. Legend points to his hand to show that he has the same mark. "You have that too?"

Link, your brother, nods and proudly shows it off. "Bubbah says it's because I'm special. They had to leave home after it showed up though. They saved me from the monsters and told me to take care of grandma."

"Then I'm sure you're doing an incredible job." Time says gently. "That mark is special. I'm sure your grandma is very proud."

Warrior makes it a point to step aside, roughly grabbing your arm as he speaks in a hushed voice. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is my home." You try to keep the growl out of your voice. "Link is my brother."

"Tell me you're joking."

"I wouldn't be the one traveling with you if I was."

"Bubbah!" Link calls for your attention. "Can they stay for dinner?!"

You slap a grin onto your face and wave back to him. "That was the plan, short stack! You mind going to tell grandma we have company?"

"Oh yeah!" He grins and runs back to the house right as your grandmother has reached the door. She sees you and sighs of relief that you've returned safe and sound.

You wave from where you are and blow her a kiss. You try not to look at the other boys around you.

You can feel them staring holes into you head as it is.

This is going to be a long story.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #little link

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Text

The Chains We Break

- Summary: Otto Hightower comes to negotiate the release of his son. Daemon does not humor him. But you and your sister are dragons as well, who answer to neither gods or men.

- Pairing: Gwanye Hightower/trag!reader/one-sided Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after The Flames We Share. If you want to read all parts before this one in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+ (chapters that follow will be rated higher)

- Word count: 4 580

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

You sit beside your sister, your gaze cast toward the window where the distant waves of the sea crash against the shores of Dragonstone. The sunlight, filtered through heavy clouds, is gentle on your skin as the salt air brushes your face. The wounds you sustained at Rook’s Rest have begun to heal—your body mending faster than your spirit. Every breath still carries a phantom ache, reminding you of how you fell from Silverwing’s back, the cries of dragons echoing in your ears as death nearly claimed you.

Rhaenyra sits close, her face etched with remorse. She hasn’t been the same since Rook’s Rest, the burden of guilt gnawing at her. You see it in the way her fingers fidget, how she can’t meet your eyes for long before looking away. She’s your sister—your queen—and you know the weight she carries. But you do not hold her responsible for the choices that led to that fateful battle. It was war, and war spares no one, even the innocent.

“I should have never let you go,” Rhaenyra whispers, her voice thick with regret. “It should have been Rhaenys. Not you. It was my decision that put you in harm’s way.”

“Rhaenyra,” you reply, your tone soft but firm. “You did what you thought was right. We cannot turn back time, nor can we carry blame that doesn’t belong. It was my choice, too. And I would do it again, even knowing the cost.”

Your words hang in the air, but they do little to soothe her troubled heart. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until you find the courage to speak what has truly been gnawing at you.

“Gwayne Hightower,” you begin, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “You must release him from the dungeons.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightens at the name. The guilt in her eyes shifts to something more conflicted, more political. “It isn’t as simple as that, Y/N. He betrayed his own House, his blood, to bring you back here. Daemon—”

“Daemon,” you interrupt, bitterness lacing your tone despite your attempt to remain calm. “Daemon has imprisoned him, forbade me from even setting foot near the dungeons. He practically bought the loyalty of the guards to keep me away! But you are the Queen, Rhaenyra. Daemon may be my husband, but you hold the power.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows, and for a moment, the sister you know peeks through the layers of the ruler she has become. “And if I were to free him, what then? Daemon will see it as defiance. You know how he is—he will not take kindly to having his authority challenged, even by me.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Gwayne, alone and confined, after all he sacrificed for you. A man who went against everything he was raised to believe to save you from certain death, only to be thrown into a cell by the very people he saved you for. “He did not deserve this. He did what he did for me, and now he is paying the price. Rhaenyra, please. He doesn’t deserve to rot in those dungeons. He saved my life.”

Before she can respond, Grand Maester Gerardys enters, his expression grim. “Your Grace,” he says with a deep bow. “A ship bearing the banners of Aegon II has docked in the harbor. Prince Daemon has gone to meet them, with his men.”

Rhaenyra stiffens, but your thoughts drift to Daemon, and what this meeting could mean. Your gaze darkens at the thought of your husband—how he holds Gwayne’s fate in his hands. He’s always been a tempestuous man, fierce and unyielding. The very traits that once drew you to him now feel like iron chains wrapped around your heart.

You watch as Gerardys takes his leave, the room falling silent once more. “Daemon may be the one to hold him prisoner, but I will not let this stand,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Rhaenyra. The decision settles like a stone in your chest. You have to do something. You owe Gwayne that much.

Daemon strides down the rocky path that leads toward the harbor, his cloak snapping in the breeze. The sea roars beneath, a fitting backdrop to the turmoil within his mind. His steps are sure, his presence commanding as always, but there is a tension between his shoulders—an unease that’s hard to shake. Vaeron, your son, walks beside him, mirroring his posture. Boy’s gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, but he keeps stride with Daemon, a silent observer to the storm brewing within.

“Remember what I’ve taught you,” Daemon says, his voice low but carrying authority. “In these dealings, never let them see weakness. We do not bend to those who would see us destroyed.”

Vaeron nods, but his thoughts are torn. He has spent his life idolizing Daemon, the man he believed to be his father. But now that illusion is shattered, replaced by the knowledge that his true father sits rotting in the dungeons beneath their feet. The revelation has left him conflicted, struggling to reconcile the man he loves with the man who has imprisoned his blood.

“What will you do with him?” Vaeron asks, his voice careful, testing the waters.

Daemon’s eyes flicker with a dangerous light. “With Otto Hightower? Or with the man who abandoned his oaths to save your mother?”

“The latter,” Vaeron clarifies, though he knows the question risks Daemon’s ire.

Daemon’s expression hardens. “Gwayne Hightower is a traitor, no matter his reasons. He made his choice when he turned his back on the Greens. Such a man is not to be trusted lightly.”

“And yet he saved her,” Vaeron says, his voice dropping. “Would you have let her die, had he not intervened?”

Daemon’s steps slow, and he turns to face Vaeron, his eyes narrowing. “Mind your tongue, boy. There are things you do not understand.”

“I understand enough,” Vaeron counters, his voice tinged with defiance. “You taught me that loyalty is everything. But Gwayne’s loyalty was to her, not to a cause, not to a side in this war. Can you not see the worth in that?”

Daemon’s jaw clenches, his patience fraying. “You forget yourself, Vaeron. This war is not a matter of sentiment. Your mother’s survival matters because of what she represents—our family, our claim. If you think Gwayne Hightower acted out of love, then you are as naive as you are young.”

Vaeron’s hands curl into fists at his sides, but he keeps his emotions in check. This is the man who raised him, who taught him strength, yet in this moment, all he feels is a cold distance between them. Daemon sees only the war, the struggle for power. But Vaeron sees something else—something more human in the man who risked everything for his mother.

As they near the harbor, the banners of Aegon II come into view, and with them, Otto Hightower’s grim countenance. Daemon’s focus sharpens, his thoughts already turning to the game of strategy ahead. Vaeron falls silent, but in his heart, the conflict festers.

The wind whips through the banners of Aegon II as they flutter in the sharp sea breeze, the air thick with tension. Otto Hightower stands at the head of his retinue, his face carved from stone, the faintest flicker of unease buried deep within his shrewd eyes. He is older now, his hair nearly all grey, but the calculating sharpness in his gaze has not dulled. Daemon approaches with that characteristic swagger, a predator prowling toward prey, flanked by his guards and with Vaeron at his side. The contrast between them is stark—Daemon, vibrant in his ruthlessness, while Otto wears the weariness of his long-fought battles.

Otto speaks first, his voice carrying the authority of years spent in the small council chamber, dictating the fates of lesser men. "Prince Daemon, I come on behalf of my King to negotiate the release of my son, Ser Gwayne Hightower."

Daemon’s lips curl into a mocking smile. "Negotiate?" He laughs, the sound rough and laced with dark humor. "You truly believe you are in any position to negotiate, old man? What is it that you offer in exchange for a traitor? Perhaps another decrepit stronghold that falls to ruin as we speak?"

Otto's jaw tightens, but he remains composed, his voice cool. "You underestimate what Gwayne’s return means to the Greens. A gesture of goodwill in such tumultuous times could open pathways you might find advantageous."

Daemon’s amusement only grows, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Goodwill? From you? That’s as valuable as a beggar’s coin. Come now, Otto, surely you didn’t travel all this way just to insult my intelligence. Speak plainly, before I grow bored and send you back to King’s Landing with nothing more than salt air in your lungs."

Vaeron stands to the side, his gaze flicking between the two men. Inside, a storm churns. He has known Daemon’s temper his whole life, the simmering cruelty always ready to break the surface. Yet today, that same temperament is turned toward negotiations that directly concern the man who is his true father. The words spoken twist in his mind—‘traitor,’ ‘exchange,’ as if Gwayne were nothing more than a pawn to be bartered, his life subject to whims and strategies. Vaeron keeps his expression neutral, as Daemon taught him, but beneath it all, the confusion gnaws at him.

Otto, sensing that he must tread carefully, adjusts his approach. "You dismiss too quickly what might be gained from a show of mercy, Prince Daemon. Your position, while strong, is not unassailable. A trade, even a gesture, could ease the tension between our forces. And you would gain much in return for sparing Gwayne’s life."

Daemon narrows his eyes, his amusement slipping away, replaced by cold calculation. "And what is it that you think I desire so much that I would let a Hightower return to his family? More land? An empty promise of peace? We both know that Gwayne’s life is worth more to you than any temporary truce you could offer."

Otto’s voice drops lower, becoming the tone of a man who has orchestrated more than one coup from the shadows. "There are things we could discuss—terms that could shift the tide of this war, perhaps even ending it in a way that leaves the realm less fractured. Aegon is willing to be reasonable if it means preserving our shared interests."

Daemon’s smile returns, this time sharper, more dangerous. "You think I care for shared interests? I care only for victory—unquestionable, complete. I care for the destruction of every man, woman, and child who stands between me and that victory. Gwayne’s life is a grain of sand on that battlefield. You know it, and so do I. The only reason he breathes is because my wife begged me not to have his head on a spike the moment he arrived on Dragonstone."

Vaeron stiffens, eyes fixed on Daemon’s profile, a silent witness to the deep ruthlessness within the man he once saw only as a hero. But now, he sees the cracks—how Daemon views everyone as a piece to be sacrificed for his goals, no matter the cost to their souls. He swallows hard, forcing his voice to remain steady. "And what of mercy, Father? Does it not hold any value in this war? Or is it all to be blood and fire until none are left standing?"

Daemon turns sharply to regard Vaeron, his expression unreadable, a flash of something indiscernible crossing his eyes. "Mercy is for the weak, boy. Those who offer it do so only when they have nothing left to give. Do you believe Gwayne deserves mercy for betraying his family, his House, for a fleeting moment of sentiment?"

Vaeron meets Daemon’s gaze, unflinching. "I believe that loyalty beyond reason deserves acknowledgment. Even in war, there are choices that define a man. He chose her—he chose my mother. If that is treason, then perhaps we are all traitors in our own ways."

Daemon studies his son with a shrewd gaze, weighing those words. The silence stretches until Otto steps forward, seizing the opening Vaeron has created.

“Let me look upon my son, Prince Daemon. Let me see the man who has caused this… conflict. If nothing else, I would know whether the man I seek to retrieve is worth the trouble. Bring him up from those dungeons, and if you wish, you can watch as I confront what my son has become.”

The corners of Daemon’s mouth twitch upward in a grin that holds no mirth, only cold amusement. “Very well, Otto. I’ll indulge this request. Let you see what has become of the son you so poorly raised. But do not mistake this for mercy, nor a sign of weakness.”

He turns to one of his men, gesturing with a flick of his hand. “Bring him up, but keep him chained. Let his father see what the consequences are for those who betray their kin for a moment’s folly.”

As the command is relayed, Otto’s mask of composure remains intact, but there is something strained in the tightness around his mouth. Vaeron watches, his heart pounding, knowing that soon he will come face-to-face once more with the man who has haunted his thoughts since learning the truth. The man who is more than just his mother’s savior but is also the father he never knew.

The minutes stretch painfully, each one heavy with anticipation. The creak of footsteps echoes through the stone as the guards finally return, dragging Gwayne Hightower from the depths. The man who emerges is a shadow of the knight he once was—his face gaunt, his clothes tattered, and his once-proud bearing diminished beneath the weight of his chains. But despite his disheveled state, there is a spark in Gwayne’s eyes, a defiance that has not been extinguished.

Otto’s gaze is icy, but there is a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or shame—as he regards the man before him. “You’ve disgraced us all, Gwayne. For what? For a woman who was never yours to protect?”

Gwayne’s voice is hoarse from disuse, but it still carries strength. “For a woman worth more than all the crowns and thrones in the world. If that is a disgrace, then so be it.”

Daemon’s laughter rings out, cold and mocking. “Hear that, Otto? Even chained and broken, he clings to his foolish convictions. This is what you came for—this pathetic display of misguided loyalty.”

Vaeron watches the exchange, torn between anger and a deep, aching sadness. The man before him is no longer the fearsome knight from the stories but a father who sacrificed everything for a fleeting chance to save someone he loved. The realization sinks in like a stone—this war, this endless cycle of violence, leaves no room for anything as simple as honor or love. It’s all twisted, corrupted by the ambitions of those who claim to know best.

The tension in the air crackles like the distant storm clouds gathering over the horizon. Gwayne Hightower stands before his father, closer now than he has been in years, his once-strong frame worn by weeks of confinement. He walks with a limp, the weight of chains dragging at his wrists, but there is still a pride in his bearing, a defiant spark that refuses to die.

Daemon watches the exchange with a calculating smile, his eyes flicking between father and son, delighting in the bitter reunion.

Otto closes the distance, gripping Gwayne by the arm with a roughness that belies the controlled facade he wears. The old man’s eyes burn with a fury tempered by long years of cold, strategic thinking. “Have you lost your mind, Gwayne?” he hisses, his voice low, sharp as a dagger’s edge. “All your life, you’ve chased after her like some lovesick fool. You could never accept that Viserys refused your suit, that she was never meant for you!”

Gwayne’s expression barely shifts, but the muscle in his jaw twitches, a hint of the rage he has long kept buried beneath duty and restraint. He leans closer, ignoring the sting of Otto’s grip, and murmurs, his voice so low only his father can hear, “The boy standing next to Daemon is my son, Father. And that is all that matters now. My fate is inconsequential.”

Otto’s eyes widen, his breath catching as though he has been struck. For a moment, his iron composure fractures, disbelief and horror warring on his face. He releases Gwayne, recoiling as if the revelation has physically burned him. His gaze snaps toward Vaeron, the truth now laid bare, searing into him like a brand. The boy—no, the young man—is not just the child of Daemon’s wife; he is a Hightower. His grandson.

Vaeron meets Otto’s gaze briefly, not fully understanding what has just transpired but sensing the seismic shift in the atmosphere. Daemon notices the exchange and narrows his eyes, his amusement giving way to suspicion. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to end this farce with a single stroke.

Otto recovers quickly, his face once again a mask of practiced indifference, but there is a tremor in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. “You’ve doomed us all, Gwayne. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You threw away everything—your name, your family’s honor, for what? To save a woman who could never be yours? A child you will never truly claim?”

Gwayne’s gaze is steady, unflinching. “I would do it again, Father. A thousand times over if it meant protecting her and our son. You can call me mad, you can brand me a traitor, but I regret nothing.”

Otto’s eyes darken as he processes the full scope of what has been revealed. He turns slowly to Daemon, who watches him with the cold eyes of a dragon ready to pounce. Otto studies Vaeron with renewed interest, seeing him now not just as a pawn but as a potential key to unraveling this web. He tries to capitalize on this revelation, his voice taking on a more calculated tone. “It seems, Prince Daemon, that the boy you’ve raised as your own has more complicated parentage than we knew. Perhaps this presents an opportunity—one that—”

Daemon’s face hardens instantly, his lips curling into a snarl. “Do not presume to speak of him as a bargaining chip, Hightower. I care nothing for your intrigues, nor do I care for whatever misguided sentiment your son clings to.” He steps forward, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You came for your son, and I’ve given you this moment to see the disgrace he has become. But do not mistake this for weakness. Gwayne Hightower is nothing more than a broken tool, and I’ve no use for broken things.”

Otto opens his mouth to argue, but the steel in Daemon’s eyes leaves no room for discussion. He knows better than to push further when the dragon’s teeth are bared. Reluctantly, he pulls back, the wheels of strategy already turning in his mind, but knowing this is not the moment to press.

Daemon turns sharply to his guards. “Take him back to the dungeons. Let him rot where he belongs.”

The guards move swiftly, seizing Gwayne by the arms. Before they drag him away, Gwayne locks eyes with Vaeron one last time, a silent exchange passing between them. There is no plea for understanding, no attempt at explaining what words cannot convey. Just a look—a father recognizing his son, and a son realizing the depth of what was sacrificed for him.

The confrontation ends not in bloodshed, but with Daemon’s final, sardonic remark. “You’ve seen your son, Otto. Now crawl back to King’s Landing and tell your king that mercy is the last thing you’ll ever find on Dragonstone.”

Otto holds his gaze for a moment longer, then turns on his heel, a man who has measured his options and found them lacking. As he departs, Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons, his chains rattling with every step.

In that instant, Vaeron knows that the next time they meet, it will not be as strangers, but as something far more complicated—something that even Daemon may not be able to control.

The clinking of chains and the rough shuffling of boots against stone echo through the courtyard as Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons. His face is set in grim determination, resigned to his fate, yet his eyes still hold that spark—the fire of a man who has found something more precious than victory in war. The guards are silent, their expressions hard and unreadable, loyal to their prince’s orders, despite whatever inner conflict they may harbor.

But as they round a corner, the way is blocked. Standing firm are Rhaenyra and you, their Queen and her sister. The two women’s presence immediately shifts the air, tension snapping taut like a drawn bowstring. The guards pause, uncertain, as their gazes flicker between Rhaenyra’s command and the one issued earlier by Daemon.

Rhaenyra’s voice rings out, clear and commanding. “Release him to Otto Hightower. He is to leave Dragonstone at once.”

The guards stiffen, the weight of conflicting orders hanging heavy on their shoulders. “Your Grace,” one of them ventures, his voice laced with hesitation, “Prince Daemon’s orders were clear. Ser Gwayne is not to be released.”

You step forward, eyes blazing with resolve. “And who is your Queen? Who commands this keep? You will do as she says or face the consequences. Daemon’s orders hold no weight when the Queen herself speaks.”

There’s a moment of palpable tension as the guards exchange uncertain glances. But the authority in Rhaenyra’s gaze, coupled with your fierce insistence, finally breaks their hesitation. They nod reluctantly and begin to unshackle Gwayne, their hands shaking slightly as they fumble with the locks.

Gwayne breathes out a quiet sigh, rubbing his wrists where the heavy manacles have left raw marks. He looks to you, a softness in his gaze that defies the bleakness of the situation. You step closer, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you in that instant. His eyes hold yours, and in them, you see the unspoken words, the regret, the love, and the inevitable farewell.

“This is not the end,” Gwayne murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. “If my nephew has any mercy left in him, I will find a way to return. But if not… know that protecting you was worth everything. Every sacrifice.”

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly, resting it against his chest where you can feel the steady, yet faint, beat of his heart. “You’re the only reason I’m alive, Gwayne. You risked everything for me, and I won’t forget it. No matter what happens next.”

He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and whispers, “Remember me, Y/N. And if this war ever ends, perhaps fate will be kinder to us in another life.”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, but you manage a faint smile, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek in a rare display of affection. “I will. I promise.”

Before either of you can say more, the guards hastily usher him toward the docks, anxious to see him gone before Daemon can intervene. Gwayne casts one last lingering glance over his shoulder, a look full of unspoken promises and finality, before he is led away.

As they escort him down the winding paths toward the ship, the sails already being unfurled, Daemon and Vaeron catch sight of the commotion from a distance. Daemon’s eyes narrow dangerously as he realizes what is happening. His fury builds like a storm, the anger practically radiating off him as he strides toward the scene, Vaeron following, his own emotions churning in the wake of what has transpired.

As Gwayne passes by Daemon, their eyes lock for a brief moment. Gwayne’s lips twitch into a faint, knowing smirk—one that speaks volumes, a silent challenge, as if to say, You didn’t win this time. It’s a gesture that only fuels Daemon’s rage, the dragon within him rearing its head.

Daemon’s hand tightens on the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles white with fury, but before he can draw it, Gwayne is gone, escorted swiftly onto the ship where Otto waits with grim satisfaction. The gangplank is raised, and the ship begins to pull away from the harbor, sails billowing as it heads back toward the horizon.

With the Hightower entourage retreating, Daemon’s fury turns on Rhaenyra and you. He storms up to the two of you, his eyes blazing, voice like thunder. “What in the name of all the gods are you doing, woman? Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

Rhaenyra stands her ground, unyielding, her chin lifted defiantly. “I did what was right, Daemon. Ser Gwayne Hightower saved my sister’s life at Rook’s Rest, and I will not be the one to condemn him to rot in chains for it. Let the Greens decide his fate now. It’s no longer our concern.”

Daemon’s glare shifts from Rhaenyra to you, his gaze scorching with silent accusation. The promise of a reckoning lingers in his eyes, a vow that this conversation between you and him is far from over. But he turns back to Rhaenyra, the anger in his voice uncontainable. “You’ve weakened our position, Rhaenyra. Do you not see what this act of so-called mercy has cost us? We hold every advantage, and now you hand them back one of their own, giving them hope when we should be crushing it.”

Rhaenyra’s voice remains steady, firm in her conviction. “Hope may be our enemy, but I will not sacrifice decency for the sake of cruelty. This war has already claimed enough souls—if showing mercy weakens us in your eyes, then so be it. But I will not let this conflict strip us of our humanity.”

Daemon’s eyes flash dangerously, his rage palpable, but even in his fury, he knows better than to challenge her publicly. The exchange bristles with barely restrained venom, both of them locked in a clash of wills, neither willing to yield. But it’s clear that this is a rift that will not be easily mended.

Vaeron, who has watched it all unfold in silence, feels a small surge of triumph swell in his chest. For the first time, his mother acted on her own terms, free from Daemon’s influence. The knowledge that Gwayne is safe, at least for now, is a balm to his inner turmoil. Yet, even in his moment of quiet victory, he knows that the repercussions of this day will ripple far beyond the shores of Dragonstone.

Daemon finally steps back, his gaze returning to you, the promise of confrontation lingering like smoke in the air. “This is not over,” he hisses, his words directed more at you than at Rhaenyra. Then, without another word, he turns and stalks off, his rage still burning as he disappears from view.

The ship grows smaller on the horizon, taking with it the man who dared defy every loyalty, every oath, for the sake of love. And in that moment, you know that whatever happens next, the war has shifted—not because of power or strategy, but because of the choices made out of love and loyalty. Choices that may very well reshape the fate of everyone involved.

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visionsofyouandme · 2 months ago

Text

it's golden (like daylight)

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Winter is coming, bringing loneliness and shorter days. But Joel still finds he values the daylight (and you) through it all.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Afab!reader w she/her pronouns (but no physical descriptions), fluff, slow burn, pining!Joel, Jackson!Joel, post-outbreak, soft!joel, swearing, some physical violence (not against reader), age gap or no age gap- you decide!, POV switching, alcohol consumption, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), praise kink, Joel talks you through it, p in v sex, apocalypse BC method (pulling out), aftercare. Happy ending! (Moodboard for vibes and vibes only)

𝙰/𝙽: Well, here it is! The full-on, real deal. If you think this is familiar, it's because I originally posted parts 1 & 2 on my other blog, @queeneamidala but this is my new, improved, and SOLELY writing blog. I'm so excited to share the full thing with you guys. This is my first full length, finished fic in so so long. I would love any and all feedback- comments, likes, reblogs, you name it! Anyway, can't wait to share this lil journey with ya'll. Hope you enjoy <3

Read here on AO3 !

Joel was eating idly in the cafeteria when he heard Ellie’s voice. He glanced back, and noticed her talking to a woman he had seen around the town of Jackson. She was a friend of Tommy and Maria’s, he knew that much. Hell, a friend to everyone in town but him, it seemed. Granted, he hadn’t spoken a word to her, or opened the door to conversation in the first place. Some would say it was out of shyness or fear, but really, he just felt unworthy of her attention.

She was beautiful, but that was just a general observation.

You were beautiful, and he had come to this conclusion several times while passing you by in town. He had noticed you speaking to nearly every person in town. You had a very easy-going air about you, friendly. Open.

So, he steered clear. Forming personal connections outside of immediate family was not something he was keen on. He has had a life fraught with grief, seen and done unspeakable things. He wasn’t meant to be loved, not after everything he’s done.

But the way you talked to Tommy, and now Ellie more and more often had Joel at an uncomfortably close proximity to you. Your presence was drawing near, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He sort of didn’t want to stop it.

But, just when he thought you were going to approach the table to sit, you broke away from Ellie and walked to a different table. He felt something drop in his chest. Was that really, really disappointment that he felt?

“Makin’ friends?” Joel questioned as Ellie sat down, and she snorted.

“Why? Jealous?” She said with a smirk, and Joel cocked up an eyebrow.

“You could use a friend.” Ellie added, and Joel shifted a bit uncomfortably.

“I don’t need anyone.” He said into his food, and Ellie made a face, rolling her eyes.

“Everybody needs at least someone.”

Joel’s eyes shifted to you sitting at the table just across from them. Your smile was radiant, and he felt something twist in his chest.

He wasn’t meant to be loved.

~*~*~

Winter was coming, and the people in town were preparing. You were busy but still managed to make time for people. For everyone, really. Joel was almost envious about how easy you talked to people. He didn’t have the same talent, but he was fine with that.

So, one day, when he was called upon a house to help with some faulty wiring, he was taken aback when it was your house he was called to.

You didn’t need help. Not really. You were fairly self sufficient, and made your own way through town. Joel knew this, and it made him nervous when you called upon him specifically to make sure you were prepared for the wintertime.

But, he took his toolkit and went to your place. The door was open, but…

You weren’t home.

He felt disappointment in his chest again. He shook it off though and walked to the side of the house outside. He opened the box and began to work diligently, his mind wandering to other things. But he tried to fight off the thoughts of you and how disappointed he felt when he found out you weren’t home. However, they just kept coming around again, and again, and again.

“You look so serious.” A voice said, and Joel jerked back like he had been electrocuted. His head swiveled to the side and he saw you standing there, leaning against the side of the house with your arms crossed. You looked so effortless and cool, and-

How long had you been standing there?

“Job’s gotta get done.” Joel said, gesturing to the box, “as you requested.”

You nodded, and a smile creeped into your face that he hadn’t seen before. He had seen you smile plenty of times- laughing and talking with the people in town, with Maria, with Ellie. But this felt different. Or was he just imagining it?

“Yeah, you came highly recommended.” You said, and Joel scoffed, turning back to the box and tried to get back to work. But, he was horrible at multitasking, especially when it came down to you distracting him by your presence alone.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Ellie was insistent that you were the best the town had.” You said, and Joel lost his concentration and nearly dropped the screwdriver he held.

Christ, I’m gonna kill that girl.

He furrowed his brow like nothing happened and kept working. He was definitely going to talk to Ellie later. The last thing he needed was the whole town to be depending on him for maintenance.

But for you…? Well, it wasn’t so bad.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Work held me up.” You said, gesturing behind you. Joel finally flicked a switch and the box buzzed to life. He felt himself deflate a bit. Guess it was time for him to go.

“No worries.” He said, putting his tools back in the toolbox and stood straight. He held the box in hand, and regarded you with soft brown eyes. You pushed off the corner of the house, and smiled that bright smile of yours.

“You… let me know if there’s- if there’s anythin’ else.” Joel said, trying to keep it drawn out but it sounded rushed to his ears. He nodded minutely and you stepped out of the way.

“Thank you. It means more to me than you know.” You said, and shifted, your shoulders brushing by accident. Joel simply nodded, and made his way home.

He rubbed his arm after a few minutes of walking, trying to savor the warmth blooming under his skin.

~*~*~

Tommy and Joel were sitting at The Tipsy Bison, talking over a few drinks.

You had requested Joel’s help two more times now. Both small and trivial, but Joel was more than happy to help. You weren’t there the second time he came, but when he was there the third time, you offered him coffee. He was an idiot, and turned you down. But, that smile never wavered.

“Next time.” You said.

Next time, Joel thought. There was going to be a next time? He hoped so.

“I see you’re helping some people out. Good for you to get some socializing in.” Tommy noted after taking a sip of his drink. Joel shrugged,

“It’s fine, I guess. Just doin’ my part.” He said. Tommy nodded, and regarded his brother with a peculiar expression. Joel felt like he was plotting something, but didn’t have time to really think about it before a voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Well, you two look like you’re having fun. Mind if we cut in?” Maria questioned, and Joel barely looked up, until it registered in his mind.

We?

You settled into the seat beside Joel while Maria took the one by Tommy, boxing the boys in. Joel instinctively stiffened, and hoped you didn’t notice. If you did, you didn’t show it.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” You questioned, and Joel glanced at you. He cleared his throat, looking down, and held up his glass slightly.

“Whatever they’re trying to pass off as whsikey.” He said, and you looked at him. He felt like a deer in the headlights, watching you look at him. It felt like time was suspended, and he gulped. But, you smiled like it was nothing and turned to the bartender.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You said, jutting your thumb at Joel. The bartender slid the glass into your hand with ease. Joel thought everything you did was effortless. You certainly made it seem so.

It dawned on him that Tommy and Maria were knee-deep in their own conversation, promptly blocking off you two. It felt intentional, causing Joel to be put on the spot, under your eye.

“Thanks for all your help by the way.” You said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. Joel nodded, his brown eyes casting down to his glass.

“Anytime.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel was slowly becoming a bigger part of the community. He wasn’t just keeping to himself, but helping others with house repairs or such. You hadn't seen him offer such services until you had reached out to him.

But, he didn’t do it for them. He knew that deep down inside.

He did it for you.

“I gotta say, Mr. Miller, you’re an enigma.” You said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, and felt his stomach lurched at you saying his name, even if it was his last name. “You know; a mystery, something hard to explain.”

“I ain’t no mystery.” He said, shaking his head. You grinned, and tilted your head to the side. Joel felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of his drink to quell it.

“Okay, okay.” You said, shrugging and turned your gaze across the bar. He felt your elbows becoming achingly close. If he just shifted just slightly, he could feel you against him.

“Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” You said so abruptly that it threw his thoughts off.

“Sorry?”

“I got Ellie a new book. Something about space and aliens and shit. Something I think she’d like.” You said. Joel felt a twinge of appreciation there. So, somebody was looking after Ellie besides him. He liked that. It warmed his hardened heart.

“Sure. You can drop it off.” He said, and he stole a glance your way. You were grinning, but trying to hide it. You took a sip of your beer to try to mask it, but he could see the way the corners of your lips quirked up.

“I’ll be there then.”

~*~*~

Joel had waited for you for a day or two. He found reasons to stay home, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, that he was sick. So, when you finally knocked on his door towards the end of the second day, he was surprised to find you holding a dish in your hand as well as the book.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Made you a little something.” You said so casually. But, Joel was floored. You heard about him, and went out of your way to do something for him?

He felt bad for faking his illness. But, the fact you did this? It flooded his chest with gratitude, and an ache that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Thank you.” He said, and went to take it but then paused. You laughed,

“I don’t care about getting sick. Here.” You said, and handed him the dish, barely crossing over the threshold. He took it gingerly, and looked down at it. Whatever it was, it looked damn good.

“Do you… would ya want to come in?” He offered. You suddenly beamed, and god, if that wasn’t a sight to see. Joel thought there wouldn’t be anything better in the world.

“Sure.” You responded, and Joel moved to let you inside. As you passed, he could smell your soap, or personal scent- whatever it was, he felt lightheaded in the best way. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen, you following him along.

“I also have the book. Hope Ellie’s not too mad it took me so long.” You laughed and set the book on the kitchen table. Joel walked to the other side, setting down the dish.

“‘M sure she won’t mind.” He said, and his eyes shifted to you. You and all your beauty, your kindness, the way your eyes smiled even while you were sharing a passive look.

“Do you want some coffee?” He questioned, and there he went, sounding rushed again. He just wanted you to stay, to share you sunlight with him just a bit longer. You had a knowing smile, and nodded gently.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” When you agreed to it, he got busy. He nearly knocked off the mugs off the counter trying to prepare everything. You sat at the table, and glanced down at the book. Joel looked back to see your attention on something else other than him, and felt a little more at ease.

“I got a patrol coming up.” You said, and Joel poured the dark liquid into one of the faded mugs. He turned and carried it to you at the table, sitting across from you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. They switched up my partner, though. Hannah isn’t feeling well, so they put me with someone else.” You said, and he could see for the first time something else in your expression- anxiety. Fear.

He didn’t like it, to see you facing such emotions. He wished he could wrap them all up and throw them away. Whatever it took to see your smile again.

“Who’ya going with?”

“Jim Harris.” You replied with a nod, and Joel sat up a bit straighter. He didn’t like Jim, he always came off as loud and imposing. He didn’t have the best reputation when it came to women, either. He was rude and disrespectful, and there had been some complaints about harassment made against him.

“I see.” He said. Why did anyone assign you with Jim Harris, of all people? They knew of his ways and his complaints. The last thing they needed was to put him with you, all while alone.

No, he wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’ll get ‘em to switch things around. I’ll go with you.” He said, and nodded with finality. You looked at him, a bit surprised if not shocked.

“Oh. You really don’t have to-“ But he waved you off.

“I can get some strings pulled so you won’t have to deal with him. Besides, I just… I can’t stand someone like him being near y-” but he paused, and tried to recover before he could say something stupid. “ It ain’t right.” He settled, his fingers gripping the coffee mug a bit tighter at the thought of Jim laying even a finger on you. You looked at Joel, the shock really settling in now. Joel was unaware of the gravity of his words in the moment, something he would regret later. Not that he said them, but that he hadn’t said more.

“… Thank you.” You said quietly. Joel looked at you, and felt his chest bloom with warmth. Your words, though short and few, were filled with gratitude and relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Anything you need, darlin’.” He said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop himself. You smiled, and Joel would have given you the moon right then and there if you asked.

He cleared his throat as if it would clear the air, and he visibly relaxed. Knowing you would be under his care and away from Jim Harris’ whole being made him feel better. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong need to be by your side when the time for patrol comes. It just felt right that he would be there to protect you.

“A true southern gentleman.” You mused as you took a sip of your coffee. Joel’s face flushed, and he averted his gaze, and began to speak but you cut him off.

“I like it.”

Joel felt the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he glanced at you, shrugging.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He said, and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his hair curling under his fingertips as he did so. He needed a haircut, and sorely.

But, the town was lacking a barber, so he figured he would do it himself one of these days.

“A good habit to have.” You said, and he chuckled.

“Whatever you say, da-“ but he quickly cut himself off and hurriedly spoke your name instead. You smiled, regardless of what he called you. He found he liked saying your name. It felt personal, more grounded to reality. He was having a hard time grappling with reality ever since you crossed the threshold of his home. He couldn’t believe you were here, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. He wanted this moment to last as long as time would allow- he would commit it to memory. Every word, every glance, every piece.

He found he did that often with you- just taking in any bit of you you had to offer, when he was feeling brave enough.

“I gotta get back.” You said, and stood up, rubbing your hands together to conserve the warmth of the coffee mug. Joel stood up, and nodded hurriedly, though he already felt the air grow cold in the absence of your presence.

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll walk you out.” He said, and stood up as well. He walked with you to the door at a snail’s pace, and you talked about your work for the rest of the day. The walk was all too short, and Joel’s hand rested on the doorknob. He looked at you, his brown eyes taking you in before he released you back to the world.

“Take it easy. I’ll see you on patrol. Okay?” He said, and you gave him that gut wrenching smile. Could have brought him to his knees if you so desired.

“Sounds good, Joel.” You said, and he opened the door, the chill coming in as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. You smiled and gave him the lightest wave, and headed out into the cold Wyoming winter.

He watched you go, and his name still hung in the air. Despite the door being open, the cold sweeping in, he felt warm.

Oh, he was such a goner.

~*~*~

Joel trudged to the outer part of town, gun slung over his shoulder. He promised he would meet you at the edge, where they traded out patrols. He had been busy with other things that day, and felt horrible that he couldn’t walk with you. But, he knew that a few hours alone with you would make up for that.

At least, that’s what he hoped.

He came up and saw Tommy standing with a few others, talking indistinctly. When Joel approached, Tommy and the others turned. As they did, the group opened up and he could see you standing on the far side. Your face quite literally beamed up when you saw him.

“Ready for another shift?” Tommy chuckled as Joel came up closer. “You’ll have to show the new girl all the ropes.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was still evident on your face. Joel nodded, and he couldn’t help it as his lips quirked up on the ends when he met your eyes. This wasn’t lost on you, or Tommy for that matter. No one had seen Joel so much as literally turn his frown upside down, not even in the slightest. So, this was an interesting event for all involved.

“Well, no time like the present.” Joel said, and nodded forward. You bid goodbye to the others and walked with Joel across the town lines into the woods. He could sense your unease, and he glanced down to see a pistol on your hip.

“You know how to use that?” He questioned. You looked over at Joel and followed his gaze to the gun at your side, and then looked forward quickly.

“Unfortunately, yes.” You said. Joel frowned, but said nothing.

As you two reached the outpost where you’d be staying, Joel let you climb up the ladder first. He followed shortly after, his head swiveling around for any signs of life that weren’t supposed to be there. When he was safely inside, he closed the makeshift door and sat down next to you.

It was cold inside. Almost bitterly so. Joel was fine, having his heavy jacket and several layers. He had done this before, so he came prepared, especially in the colder months.

You, on the other hand, were miserable. Not expecting it to be *this* cold, you were wholly unprepared for the coldness that seeped into the wooden outpost about 12 feet off the ground. You sat on the chair and crossed your legs to conserve warmth, shoving your hands between your thighs to keep them from freezing.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long shift.

Joel, ever vigilant, noticed that you were shifting uneasily. But, his thoughts ran elsewhere besides the cold. Were you afraid of him? Was this awkward? Did he make a mistake taking over Jim’s shift with you? Was this overstepping some invisible boundary?

But then, you spoke,

“Can’t believe it’s this fucking cold.”

Your voice trembled a bit, and he watched you closely. His eyes softened a bit, and he took in your form. Yeah, you weren’t nearly as bulked up with layers as him. He set his gun down on the floor, leaning it against the window sill. You looked over at him, and it dawned on you very quickly about what he was about to do.

“Joel, don’t-“

“Can’t have you freezin’ on me, sweetheart. Won’t do much good if you’re an icicle.” He said, and shed his large jacket. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood and draped it over your shoulders. You sat still as he did so, and the warmth flooded you almost immediately. He sat back down, and your face was flushed with red. You cleared your throat, looking down at your hands.

“Thanks.” You said quietly. Joel nodded, like it was something he’d done a million times. He shifted his gaze back to the landscape that sprawled out in front of you.

You sat in a comfortable silence, and you eventually threaded your arms through Joel’s jacket. It smelled of cedar and musk, and you had always wondered what he smelled like. It felt as though he were enveloping you in a warm hug. You wondered if he ever did that sort of thing.

“When did you come here?” Joel questioned after a few minutes. You were surprised at his initiation of the conversation, but certainly not mad about it.

“About 8 months ago. Came from a QZ in Georgia after it fell apart.” You replied. Joel looked over at you, and you continued to look out of the outpost.

“Escaped with a group of good people. We tried to find someplace else, someplace safe. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. Lead them to safety, after my husband died.” You explained, and Joel’s chest twisted. He had never noticed a ring on your finger, but he could see a faded outline of where one used to be.

“But, keeping everyone together was hard. Death followed us everywhere- Clickers, disease, bad food, water. The world seemed to pick us off one by one.” Joel shifted his gaze to outside. He could tell you hadn’t spoken about this often, and he could sense a tremor in your voice.

“Eventually it was just me, wandering the woods. I felt hopeless, without purpose. I began to go kind of… well, insane. I don’t know how long I was out there til Tommy found me. Took me straight to the infirmary where they had to basically take care of me until I was able to be on my own two feet.” You said, and looked down, your hands clasped tightly together so much your knuckles turned white. Joel was stoic, unmoving, but his presence felt comforting. You didn’t know why you felt so comfortable with him, so you didn’t stop from going on.

“I’ve done some… terrible things. I’ve- seen so much… death. Coming here, it was a saving grace. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself much longer had they not found me.” You said. Joel’s heart dropped at this revelation, his eyes were soft with empathy. He knew all about hopelessness, about wanting to give up. About not having anything or anyone to live for. His finger traced the scar on his temple lightly before quickly dropping his hand in his lap.

Had Ellie not come into his life, he would have taken the easy route out, and not missed that time. But, he just hated that you felt like you had to do the same. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to feel like that, not with how caring and kind you were. Not with how you literally made people’s days light up at the sound of your laugh or your smile.

It just wasn’t fair, this world you both lived in.

“I feel like I try to do good things to make up for all the bad I’ve done.” You added, though your voice was so small and quiet. Joel knew that feeling all too well.

“I’m sorry.” Joel could only say, and you looked at him to already see his eyes on you. You smile, but this one was sad, weak. You shrugged, and sighed deeply,

“It’s life, isn’t it? It’s never easy. But, the small things make it better. Good people, especially.” Joel noticed how your smile deepened a bit, and he could see that glint in your eyes. He nodded, and couldn’t imagine you would rope him into the “good people” category. But, he also saw your face, and how you looked at him, that maybe you did.

And it made him feel… nice.

“Yeah, the good ones. Few and far between. But, they exist.” He said, his eyes looking between your own.

“I think there’s good people here.” You said, nodding forward. “You’re good people.”

And Joel, without knowing it, smiled. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t teeth-showing, but it was a smile. One that betrayed him immensely, but he couldn’t stop it now. Even though he disagreed, he couldn’t voice it. Not to you. He couldn’t go against anything you said, it would feel like a personal crime.

“So are you. I hope you know that.” He said, and reached out to take your icy hand within his own. You looked at him, studying his face as you gripped his hand back.

And to Joel, the world just got a little bit brighter.

~*~*~

“Where are you going?” Joel said as he sat on the couch in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table. Ellie stalked past him to the door, and looked over her shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Out.” She said, and stormed through the door. Joel sighed. Teenagers.

He sat, listening to the crackly turntable in the corner. It played an old jazz record he borrowed from the library. Not his true cup of tea, but it was better than nothing. He needed to trade some other old ones in for new ones, but he had listened to the whole library by now.

He felt at ease for once. He played the time spent with you on patrol over and over. After your conversation, you spoke of happier, better things. Old baseball legends, old music, basically a throwback of pop culture before the world went to shit. You told him a funny story about your job that actually drew a true chuckle from him. He just felt… better around you. Your easy going demeanor and openness was enough to make him want to share with you. Share smiles, laughter, time together.

And god, he loved all three when it came to you.

The record clicked to signal its ending, and he stood up, walking over to turn it over. Just as he put the needle down, there was a knock at the door.

He walked to the door and opened it, seeing you standing there before him, looking chilled to the bone. He gestured for you to come inside quickly, and you shuffled in, huffing into your hands.

“What the hell ya doin’ out there in the cold for?” He said sternly, more concerned than upset, eyebrows furrowing. You shrugged, crossing your arms.

“Wanted to see you.” You said, and his jaw clamped shut.

Well. Okay.

He stood, like an idiot, in silence for a moment, before nodding minutely.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll make coffee.” He said, and hurried to the kitchen. Even though it was nearly 7 in the evening, he needed time to process what you said, and that you were here to see him.

You felt more warmth in Joel’s house than your own, and shed your boots and jacket, hung up the latter and walked to the couch. Sitting down, you tucked your feet under you to make them warm again. You looked around, trying to find the source of the music that was playing. You saw the record player in the corner, and smiled fondly. Of course Joel was a music guy, it just made sense.

He walked back to the living room with two cups of steaming coffee, and walked to the couch. He sat down on the far side, giving you space, but leaned over to hand you the mug.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” He questioned as he took a sip. You took a hefty gulp and felt the warmth move down your throat and into your stomach. You were beginning to feel again, from your head to your toes. You felt less like an ice cube and more like a human, now.

“Just… wanted to see how you were doing. Been busy these last couple of days, I feel like I’ve neglected my friends.” She said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows shot straight up, and he smiled small. Joel didn’t have friends. He had family. But, he would make an exception for you.

Maybe one day, you’d be family, too.

He liked the idea of that.

“Ellie tells me you’ve been working like crazy, too. People are starting to like you. You better watch out, cause the ladies already fawn over you as is.” You laughed, and Joel regarded you with an unconvinced expression. He didn’t think anyone noticed him, let alone “fawn” over him. He just did his work, day in and day out. He was unaware of the “extra attention” he was drawing from the female crowd.

He didn’t see them, because he only saw you.

“Never noticed them. Didn’t think anybody noticed me.” He said simply, taking a sip of coffee. You shook your head, and smiled into your coffee.

“I noticed you. Always have.” You said, and Joel’s eyes shifted to you as you sat across from him on the couch. He found himself getting closer and closer to you. Not physically, but emotionally. The comfort level was at a steady pace. He wanted to be sitting closer to you, to feel your body heat and drink in your comforting presence.

“Well, it’s hard not to notice you, darlin’.” He said. You blushed, and hid your face in your mug as you took a sip.

Joel was a man of few words. He was never good at them, never entirely graceful or eloquent. But now, he wished he was. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how much he cared, how much he really liked you.

But, he just didn’t know how.

And he hated himself for that.

“What are you listening to?” You teased after a few minutes of silence, a saxophone filling the air. Joel wracked his brain to figure out who the artist was.

“Louis Armstrong, I think. Jazz is the last genre I haven’t listened to at the library.” He said. You raised her eyebrows, then knitting together. And then, you laughed.

“Never would have pegged you for a jazzy guy.” You said, and began to laugh. “Country, maybe. But- but smooth jazz? God.” You covered your face to keep the laughing tears from escaping you as your body shook with giggles.

Normally, Joel would frown upon someone laughing at him. But, it was you. He was making you happy, making you laugh-

Now that. That was true music.

“Yeah, well,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, yes you are, Joel Miller.” You said, lowering your hand and looking over at him. He looked down at his mug, his pinky finger tapping against the edge lightly.

He wanted to find a reason for you to say his name again. And maybe again. He just wanted to hear you speak about anything under the sun, that would be enough for him.

“Tell you what, Joel,” you said, and shifted on the couch to face him, leaning your elbow along the back of the couch. He shifted as well, turning his body a little towards yours. “You tell me a story, and I’ll tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah, fictional or true. I don’t care- I just…” you said, and silence followed. Joel waited patiently for you to finish. His heart was hammering in his chest, but on the outside he was calm and collected.

You shrugged, and looked at him with a light smile. You didn’t have to say it. Joel knew. You knew. You just liked each other’s company, you liked the sound of each other’s voices. And it was becoming more and more apparent to the both of you.

“Alright.” Joel agreed, and your soft smile turned into a grin. He took a sip of coffee, and thought for a moment.

“I got one for ya. Not real, but a good story. Ever heard of the movie Smokey and the Bandit?”

“No.” You laughed.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna tell ya all about it.”

~*~*~

The minutes turned to hours that night. You left sometime around midnight. And then you were back two days later, and the conversation struck up again. It turned into you two alternating between each other’s houses. Patrols got more frequent for you, and Joel was insistent that he go with you, not anyone else.

Joel continued helping around the town, fixing broken things but keeping to himself when he wasn’t with you, Ellie, or Tommy. Ellie was making friends, and would visit them often, leaving him alone most evenings.

But there was you, there to fill his time and capture his attention.

You were sitting in Joel’s living room one evening, the fire crackling in the fireplace to offer more warmth. You sat next to Joel, closer than ever before, your coffees already consumed and empty mugs sitting on the coffee table.

Joel’s arm was slung across the back of the sofa instinctively, and you enjoyed the close proximity. Your knee brushed his every so often, leaving you both wanting more. But, things like this take time, and Joel was a gentleman. He wouldn’t press anything, too afraid to mess up whatever relationship was forming between you.

“Jim Harris approached me the other day.” You said, and Joel’s hand clenched at his side. Ever since he took over patrols with you, it seemed Jim was trying to find ways to confront you, but not Joel. Joel wondered why, as he was the one to change things up when it came to patrols. He guessed Jim thought you were an easier target.

“He wanted to talk. I was in the middle of running food to Mrs. March’s house, she’s got a sick kid. I waved him off, but it still felt… weird.” You said and sighed, rubbing your forehead in thought.

“Other people have been acting weird lately, too. They ask about you a lot.” You added, and Joel looked towards the fireplace. While no one outwardly approached him, he could sense some of the womenfolk asking him to come around more often. Simple, almost dumb fixes. Some of them looked like self sabotage, and he was beginning to get his suspicions. He may be old, and sometimes oblivious, but it was getting more apparent that he was being eyed by several of the single (and sometimes even married) women in town.

Joel had seen the occasional man talk to you. They often leaned in to you as they did, or leaned against a wall or building post, trying to come off as cool or suave. You always smiled and talked cordially, not wanting to make any enemies. Some of them made you laugh, and that definitely didn’t make Joel feel jealous.

“Do I need to give a good talkin’ to to anyone?” Joel questioned, and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think that would make things worse than better. But, I appreciate it all the same.” You said, your hand patting his knee. He glanced down, and your hand lingered for just a second longer than he anticipated, before you drew it away and back into your lap.

“You know I’d do anything for ya. I’m not above roughing up somebody, so long as they leave you alone after.” He said, looking down to his lap, and you smiled lightly. You looked at him, and your faces were close. Closer than they had ever been before. Joel could feel the softness of your breath against his skin, and he felt his heart thrumming in his chest.

He could feel the tension in the air, and could feel your gaze on him. He wondered what you were thinking, and raised his eyes to meet yours.

You had never seen brown eyes so dark, so beautiful, so…

The door was then wrestled open, and Ellie walked inside. She made a face at seeing you and Joel so close, but closed the door behind her. You wanted to move, but you felt Joel’s hand touch your shoulder lightly, subtly inviting you to stay.

“Tommy’s asking around for you.” Ellie said, kicking off her shoes and it made Joel flinch. He sighed, and his arm swung from your shoulders. He stood up, his knees cracking slightly, and silently cursed his older age for catching up with him.

“What’d I tell you about the shoes?” Joel said firmly to Ellie, who rolled her eyes and picked them up, setting them by the door and made an ‘okay?’ gesture. Joel looked over at you, who stood up and grabbed the coffee mugs.

“Duty calls.” You said, and smiled lightly as you carried the mugs to the kitchen. Joel sighed, and walked to the front door, pulling on his jacket and boots. You came out quickly after, and Ellie plopped down on the couch where you two had been sitting, picking up her book from the far side table. You looked as you passed, and tilted your head to the side.

“City of Ember? What’s that?” You questioned, and Ellie sat up, her eyes lighting up, and she grinned.

“One of the coolest books ever. It’s about a civilization underground, and…” she began rambling about it, and opened the book to show you the chapter she was on. You smiled, and looked at Joel.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You said, and Joel couldn’t help but soften at the event unfolding before him. You walked over to the couch and sat next to Ellie, and she eagerly told you about the book. Joel held the doorknob, and just watched for a moment.

It was at times like these that he felt like the future was a little bit brighter for him.

~*~*~

“You’re going soft, old man.” Tommy joked at the bar one night. The snow had come and blanketed the town with white, and there was talk of Christmas celebrations. The town was much more merry than Joel had ever seen it. Or maybe, Joel was just feeling… well, maybe he was feeling a little bit of everything. Everything seemed brighter and warmer, even despite the cold weather.

Joel said nothing to Tommy’s remark. He kept quiet, his eyes always finding their way back to the doors of the bar. He was waiting, hoping, wanting.

And when you walked in, he felt his chest loosen for the first time that day. Tommy followed Joel’s gaze, and then back to his brother.

Suddenly, all the talk around town made sense. Tommy had his questions, but he knew his brother wouldn’t give them willingly. Joel never confided in anyone. Except, it seemed, you.

The talk of the town was that you guys were screwing. Only because you two were alone quite a lot. And at night, for that matter. People talk, it’s a small town, and people get jealous. Rumors swirl, and things are said. Joel had been picking up the pieces, but tried to be the bigger person. It wasn’t anybody’s business as to what you two were behind closed doors.

But, instead of making your way to the bar where Joel sat, a form stepped in your way.

“Jim.” You greeted, and could smell the alcohol on his breath, as he was that close to you.

“Been trying to catch you at a good time.” Jim said, and you feigned a disgusted look. You, like much of the other women in town, did not like Jim.

“Well, now’s still not-“

“Come on, just give me a second. If you can make time for that ancient asshole over there, then you can make time for me.” He said with a cocky air to him, and you tried to step around him, but he stepped with you.

Joel’s fist tightened at his side, and he pushed his beer to the side, beginning to rise. He felt a protective air come over him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching. Tommy clapped a hand on Joel’s arm,

“He’s just drunk, Joel. She can handle hers-“ but Joel ripped his arm away and began to weave his way through the patrons to where you and Jim stood, and Tommy shook his head.

“Christ.” Tommy muttered, and dragged a hand down his face. He knew better than to sway Joel after he set his mind on something.

And he certainly couldn’t stop him when it came to protecting you.

“… he can share. I’d like to have a round with you, show you how a real man can treat you-“ Jim said, but Joel rounded on him quickly.

“What did you say?” Joel hissed, staring daggers into Jim’s back. Jim swiveled to face Joel, and Joel could see him sway a bit. Drunk or not, he had no right to speak to you that way.

“Fuck off, Miller. You can have her back when I’m through-“

At that, Joel had enough. He swung wide, his fist collided with Jim’s face with a sickening crunch. The crowd reacted with scattered gasps and flinches. Jim was down with one blow, and fell to the floor, his nose beginning to bleed.

“Jesus Christ, Miller! You…” He cried, and held his nose with a shaky hand. Joel bent down, and grabbed him by the collar.

“You keep your mouth shut around her, you understand? Or I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your fuckin’ dog.” He said, and raised his hand to give him another blow but a hand grabbed his arm. He was about to jerk away, thinking it was Tommy, but-

“Joel. Stop.”

Your commanding voice hung in the air, and Joel froze. He let go of Jim after a few tense seconds, and Jim fell back onto the floor. Standing straight, your hand eased up on his arm and he felt his breathing begin to even out. You still held onto him, and pulled at his sleeve to get him to walk away. He followed dutifully, and exited the bar with you while others watched apprehensively.

“Why did you do that?”

“I-“

“Joel. That’s not-“

“He was just so, so disgusting, and I couldn’t-“

You and Joel stood outside of the bar, the conversation tense following the events from inside. Joel’s hand continued to shake at his side, both from adrenaline and a dull throbbing pain, his ears still slightly ringing.

“He said… awful things. I couldn’t let him get away with that.” Joel said, and your eyes softened. You picked up his hand that he had knocked Jim with, and you could already see the redness forming there. Joel sucked in a breath quickly, and your eyes met his for a moment, thinking he was in pain. But, he was feeling something far from pain. Far, far from it.

“People have been talking.” You said, and Joel frowned.

“They’ve been saying, er… that we have a rather intimate relationship.” You explained, and Joel gulped. While he would want that more than anything, laying accusations of that nature about you was enough to infuriate him. You held his hand within your own, and shook your head.

“But, It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they say. I say, screw it, let them think what they want.” You said flippantly, waving a hand to the side. “It’s not their business, anyway-“

You shook your head vehemently. You were upset that people would talk about Joel like that, after all he’s done for them. You knew it was all out of jealousy, and that it was all talk. It still stung, though.

Joel looked so serious, and normally you would have laughed and pointed it out. But you were so upset that you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Besides, they… Their talk is warranted. I see how it looks, but it has nothing to do with them. Only us. Just us.” You said. Joel then took your hand in his with a much more firm grip, even if his knuckles were sore. You watched him for what felt like minutes. Well, there was no going back now.

“I just… I care about you, Joel. A lot. More than- more than I can say. I like hanging out with you, I like seeing you smile, I like hearing your, rather rare, laugh. I want to hear what you have to say, I want to sit with you in silence and drink copious amounts of coffee. I-“ you rambled, and finally shut yourself up for a moment, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

“I just, I want more. I want to be with you. Okay?” You said, forcing the words out, and you looked up at him. He was watching you with those intense brown eyes in silence. You thought he was going to reject it, passing it by, as his grip loosened on your hand. But, his grip became soft, and he lifted your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly, and his honeyed brown eyes watched you with… adoration.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much you mean to me.” He said, his lips against your skin. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and sweet like a warm glass of whiskey. He raised a hand to bring his thumb against your cheek.

“I can’t give… I can’t give you much. I ain’t too good at grand, romantic gestures. I just have myself, it’s all I have to offer. You’re too good for me, and you deserve someone who can give you everything you could ask for, give you the world-“

“Joel,” You said, your eyes looking between his own. You your head,

“I don’t want the world. I want you.”

You leaned into his touch, and he let go of your hand to put a hand on your waist and closed the distance between you.

And he kissed you. He kissed you the way he’s always wanted to- gently, cautiously, but full of hope and heart.

You closed your eyes immediately on impact, and returned the kiss with a gentle push. You raised your hand to press against his bearded cheek, his hair tickling your fingertips. He smelled of wood and leather, and a strong smell that you knew was just Joel. He was everything you wanted, and more.

You weren’t sure who pulled away first, but you both needed air. Joel leaned his forehead against yours, and his thumb still gently caressed your cheek. You were too good for him, and he knew that. He didn’t deserve anyone by the likes of you.

And yet, here you were, wrapped up in his arms and returning his kiss. It was something he had only ever dreamed of, only ever thought about late at night.

But now, it was reality.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee. ‘S Fuckin’ cold out here.” Joel laughed, and you grinned, taking his hand and holding it tightly. You lead the way, through the snow and cold air, but you both felt warm from head to toe.

~*~*~

“Why not?”

“I said no.” Joel said firmly.

“Well, you look like a sad, old, shaggy dog.” Ellie said, and eyed the scissors that sat on the bathroom counter next to Joel. Joel looked at her with a raised eyebrow,

“That’s why I’m going to cut it.” he replied. He was feeling a bit self conscious about his hair lately. It was long, overgrown, and curling at the ends. You didn’t say anything about it, but he felt… scraggly.

He kept his beard in good shape. That was easy. But, his hair was a different story. He ran a hand through it, and sighed. He was in a battle with himself. He needed to at least cut the back, but he had no way to look at it or judge how much he should cut.

The door opened and you stepped into the Miller household, calling out your presence. You had been asked to come by after work for some kind of soup Joel attempted. You were practically living in Joel’s house at this point, though you still slept in your own house. It was all about taking it easy, you both agreed. It had only been a few weeks since your kiss, and you and Joel were still learning how to dance around a significant other again. But, it was falling into a rhythm, one that comforted you both.

Ellie’s eyes shifted and stuck her head out the doorway,

“In here!” she called, and you stepped into the way of the downstairs bathroom, assessing the scene. Joel glanced at you before frowning at the scissors.

“‘Sup.” Ellie greeted, and you grinned.

“‘Sup, yourself. What’s going on?” You questioned, a bit of snow still in your hair, and you rubbed your arms to bring warmth to them again. When neither spoke, you cocked up an eyebrow and met Ellie’s gaze.

Ellie grew a mischievous glint in her eyes, and she leaned back on her heels, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Why don’t you get your girlfriend to do it?” Ellie questioned, and Joel’s eyes shot to her, red flaring up his face. You two hadn’t discussed the intricacies of your relationship, much less as to what label you would have. Joel cleared his throat and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms to try to play it off. Ellie’s grin was apparent, and you stood at the bathroom threshold next to Ellie.

Your eyes cast down to the scissors, and it dawned on you.

“Somebody needs a haircut?” You offered, and Joel looked over at you, his eyes softening. He half shrugged, dragging a hand down his beard.

“Was just thinkin’ about it.” He said, and Ellie looked over at you with an exasperated look.

“He was just about to start until I came in. I offered, but-“

“You ain’t comin’ near me with any sharp objects, kid.” He said, his eyes narrowing at her. Ellie put her hands up in defense, and looked at you.

“See what I mean?”

“I’ll take it from here.” You said, and walked into the batroom and rolled up your sleeves. Joel leaned away slightly,

“You done this before?” He questioned, knowing better than to doubt you. But, this was his head you were talking about, and he didn’t want to look like a fool.

“Yeah. Used to cut hair all the time. I’m not a high end stylist but I get the job done. Now, ge over theret.” You said, picking up the scissors and gesturing for Joel to walk further into the bathroom. He sighed and did as he was told (because who was he to deny you?) and sat on the edge of the tub as you instructed. Ellie watched, that grin still plastered on her face, as she leaned against the doorway.

“Take off your flannel, I don’t wanna get hair everywhere.” You said. Joel was wearing a t- shirt under his flannel, but it still felt… intimate.

But, he undid the buttons and handed it off to you. You folded it and set it on the bathroom sink, and picked up the comb that lay not too far away. You turned to Joel and angled his head to the side and began to snip away slowly. Ellie shifted behind you, and shook her head.

“God, this is stressing me out. Don’t cut off his ears, okay?” Ellie said, and waved before leaving towards the living room. You grinned as you worked at Joel’s hair, using the comb as a line to cut around.

“I think that shows she cares. In her own way.” You laughed, and Joel rolled her eyes.

“She’s still a pain in my ass. And nosy as hell, apparently-” He said, and you heard Ellie shout from the living room,

“I am literally right here!”

You shook your head and continued to cut. Joel sat still as stone, and your eyebrows began to furrow in concentration as you moved all around him. Joel felt more and more relaxed, with your presence so near and the sound of snip snip snip softly in his ear. You moved to the front side, and he held out a hand to place on your waist as if to keep you anchored in the spot. You smiled lightly, reveling in the touch as you continued to cut.

Joel’s hand was warm and steady on your hip, and he began to rub light circles into your side over your shirt. You tilted your head to the side; and he glanced up at you.

“You look so serious.” He said, and you glanced at him with an amused smirk.

“Hey. That’s my line.” You laughed.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m just trying my damndest to not mess it up, baby.” You said, and moved to chop at the back. You definitely didn’t want your man to have a mullet, knowing the look didn’t really look good on anyone.

“I appreciate that.” Joel said, and meant it. He moved his head this way and that as you adjusted him, and then you finally stood straight. His hand stayed at your side, and he looked up at you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He said, and you smile, running the comb and then your hand through the top of his head.

“Anytime.” You said, your hand trailing down his hair to his neck, then to his cheek. He leaned into your touch instinctively, and your thumb brushed against his beard. You liked the way it felt under your fingertips, and how much he just looked and felt like a man. Your man.

It felt new to think that, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Not yet.

“You guys better not be getting weird in there!” Ellie called after a few beats of silence, breaking you from the intimate moment. Joel rolled his eyes and stood up, and you set the scissors to the side. He brought you close to his side for a moment and pressed a kiss to your temple. You smiled, leaning into him.

Yes. Your man.

~*~*~

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Joel questioned as you both trudged through the snow after a shift on patrol. You turned your head to him, eyes narrowing.

“So that’s why you’ve been so quiet today.” you said, nodding in realization. Joel breathed out a huff of a chuckle, and shook his head. You could see red creeping on the tip of his ears, and knew it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Ellie’s got a birthday party to go to, said it’s gonna run late. They say it’s gonna get below freezing tonight, and I don’t want you to have to walk home in that-”

“Okay.”

He cleared his throat, and nodded, his gaze moved down to the snow to make sure he didn’t step on anything that would give him trouble. You grinned, and shook your head at his bashfulness. He really was the perfect gentleman- never overstepping or forcing himself, respecting boundaries and even coming up with some of his own. He really was exercising the “taking it slow” rule, too.

Maybe tonight could change that.

When you parted ways, more work waited for you both. With a squeeze of hands and looks of longing, you both made a silent promise to meet up that night.

Joel had managed to get to the house earlier, and began preparing. He had gotten some more soup from the cafeteria to heat up and for you to share. He had coffee at the ready, and his house was as clean as he could make it. After putting Ellie to work before she could escape, she later remarked that “the house had never been so clean,” and “she must be pretty important for you to dust the cabinets.”

She may not have said it outright, but she knew Joel cared for you. Despite their sometimes strained relationship, she was happy he wasn’t completely alone anymore. She could see this heaviness on his shoulders lift from time to time, that line between his eyebrows disappear when he saw you. Ellie couldn’t even tease him about it for much longer, as she had her own budding relationship that Joel would eventually find out about. Then the tables would turn and she would get the incessant teasing.

“Hey,” she said, turning before she left to see Joel sweeping the kitchen one last time. He looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t fuck this up.” she said, giving him a grin. The door shut behind her, and he shook his head.

But, he agreed with her.

~*~*~

The sun had set all too soon, and he waited anxiously for your arrival. He couldn’t sit still, and fiddled with the wood trinkets he had whittled, and looked through his sad excuse of a record collection. He could feel nervousness creeping under his skin, around his heart. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he was moving too fast. What were you thinking? Did you think that he was just looking to get some when he asked you to stay? He knew that wasn’t the case on his part, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. If anything, he could always take the couch-

A knock on the door sounded, and he nearly gave himself whiplash turning around and heading to the door. When he opened it, you stood with a mason jar in hand, your familiar green jacket pulled around you. Snow flurries dotted the background of where you stood, and Joel couldn’t help but smile.

What was he worried about again?

You stepped in, and when the door shut, you leaned up and gave him a light kiss. He leaned into it, about to raise his hand to touch your face when you pressed something into it instead. He looked down at it, and then to you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Moonshine?”

“Correct. Just a little. Keith said that’s all it takes.” you laughed, and Joel shook his head with a smile. He helped you out of your jacket, and you bent down to remove your boots as Joel walked to the kitchen. He had a small pot to heat up the soup over the fire, and carried that carefully after putting the moonshine down. You walked to the couch as Joel set the pot over the fire, and felt the warmth of Joel’s house seep into your bones. You tugged at the sleeves of your blouse, and Joel noted he hadn’t seen it before as he sat down next to you. It was nice- a little form fitting, beige with some kind of subtle floral pattern.

“Somebody dressed up.” Joel chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. You nudged his shoulder lightly as you settled into the couch, Joel’s arm moving instinctively around the back of the couch to welcome you into his side.

“Figured i’d try at least a little.” you said, and Joel pressed a kiss to your temple gently.

“I like it.” he said quietly, and you leaned your head onto his shoulder, the crackling of the fire and the wind outside being the only music you two listened to.

“Joel?” you questioned, and Joel hummed in response, leaning his head against yours. If he could be stuck in a snowglobe, trapped in time, it would be this moment. “Tell me a story.”

He smiled, and sighed, lifting his head and looking around, eyes narrowed.

“Alright, I got one. It’s dumb, but it was funny.” he said, trying to recall the details of the movie in question. It had been years, though. “I’ve seen it god knows how many times. It was Sarah’s favorite-” he said, but abruptly stopped. You stilled for a moment, and pondered what to say next. Joel had mentioned his daughter a few times in passing. Never for too long, but you had pieced this much together- she was young, died on outbreak day, and Joel couldn’t save her.

You could relate- you had lost your parents in quick succession after the outbreak, leaving you with strangers to survive. Losing your husband a year ago, the last of the familiarity you knew. You had never known true stability… Until now.

“She… she was a good kid-” Joel said, and you lifted your head and could see a misty look in his eyes. You pressed a hand to his cheek, grounding him back to reality.

“With you raising her, she must have been lovely. They learn the best from you, you know.” you said, and smiled gently. Joel’s eyes moved downwards, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek gently. You didn’t want to press it, knowing it was a sensitive subject for him. But, with a shaky breath, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, like he was looking for something. A reason, a comfort, something.

But, his eyes moved back to you. Though weak, he smiled. You were both a reason and a comfort. Two things he needed to finally break the ice on his first daughter.

“She loved reading. Made me read her all sorts of stuff. She knew how to read before other kids her age. I… I’m proud of her. What she did, when she was still here.” he said, swallowing. You nodded, your hand never straying far from him as it sunk from his face to take his free hand.

“She’s still here, Joel. You carry her wherever you go. Memories are good for that- keeping people alive, even when they’re not here next to us.” You said quietly, and Joel’s smile strengthened a little bit more. He nodded, exhaling deeply and shifted on the couch to get a little more comfortable.

“I remember I took her to the library every week, ever since she was little. She loved to walk around the aisles, didn’t care much for the play area. She would come with a stack of books this high,” Joel said, and raised his hand over his knee, and you giggled. “Insisted she would read every single one. And she did.”

~*~*~

When dinner was all said and done, you both nursed your second glass of moonshine, the conversation a bit more light. You recounted some funny stories from working around the commune, and Joel would laugh in amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You loved that sight, and couldn’t help but grin every time.

“No, really! She said she was going to march straight to his house and give him a piece of mind. I mean, I'd do the same thing- you can’t let that shit slide.” You said, and Joel just continued laughing. You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your toe. The moonshine was definitely getting to you two. You had a fleeting thought to either thank Keith later or wallop him over the head. This shit was strong.

“Please, darlin’, have mercy on me.” he said, his cheeks rosy with the effects of the alcohol, a hand pressed against his aching stomach from laughing so much. You grinned, happy to see him like this. So free, so comfortable, able to laugh and actually mean it. You leaned forward and took the nearly empty glass from him. He made a noise of protest but didn’t move to stop you as you set your empty glasses on the coffee table in front of you. You nearly fell over and Joel caught you before you could tumble to the floor, both of you giggling for no damn reason. Joel pulled you up, and you were nearly nose to nose, sitting up on your knees next to him.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you suddenly felt hot. You couldn’t tell if it was actually sweat collecting down your back or if it was just a feeling. Your hand rested on Joel’s chest, and your laughter subsided, your gazes on each other turning heavy. Your hand rested on his chest, and Joel’s brown eyes kept moving back and forth to your own. You raised a hand to press against his cheek and before you even had the notion to lean in, he crashed his lips onto yours. The force knocked you back a bit, but you recovered and kissed back, eyes falling shut. Joel hummed against your lips, and your eyebrows knit together in want. In a fit of passion, you swung your leg over his thighs and rested on his lap. This drew a real, true groan from Joel, his hands settling on your hips and gripping them like a vice. You tilted your head down, capturing his lips in a deep kiss that was enough to make your head spin.

Joel began to move your hips in his grasp, and you could feel a tightening of his jeans beneath you. You chased the feeling, beginning to grind against him. You pulled back to only dive into his neck, kissing the column and then to the side, moving to the spot under his ear. A low grumble came from his chest, tilting his head back to revel in your kisses. You began to suck on the spot, your hand moving from his chest to palm at his jeans. Joel’s hand abruptly moved from your hip to your shoulder, pushing you back just a bit before you came up voluntarily.

Looking at Joel with wide, lust-blown eyes, you suddenly felt a wave of doubt cross you. Did you overstep? Was this too much?

“Darlin’,” he began, his chest rising and falling, his dark brown eyes nearly black from what you’ve done to him. He cupped your cheek gently, “If we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right. Somewhere more comfortable for the both of us.”

Your doubts were dashed away like a bolt of lightning, a smile rising to your face and you kissed him deeply. Shuffling off of him clumsily and standing up, you extended your hand to pull him off the couch. He began to lead you to the bedroom up the stairs, a giddy feeling in his chest. When the door swung open, he didn’t give much time to linger on the contents of his room, turning to you and pulling you to his chest and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

You didn’t know Joel could be so passionate, but you were not complaining. You sighed against his lips, and Joel began to back up until the back of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him and he slowly sat down, breaking away from the kiss to look up at you as you stood over him. His hand reached out and settled on your waist, and you just had to take a second and admire him. Mouth swollen and pink from the kisses, eyes filled with a healthy mixture of lust and adoration, his chest rising and falling to show his anticipation. You could only wonder what you looked like at that moment. Probably a wild and lustful thing, dripping with anticipation.

You began to sink to your knees, but Joel was quick to pull you up with a gentleness and pecked you on the lips.

“Next time.” he mumbled and you began to giggle, feeling the corners of his lips quirk up. You pulled away, shoulders still shaking from your giggles, butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“Oh yeah? Next time?”

“Of course.” Joel said, as if it was clear as day. You grinned and moved to kiss him but he took you by the waist and turned you to lay on the bed with you on your back. You bounced on the old springs, and grinned up at Joel, hand moving to his shoulder as he leaned down and kissed you with fervor. Your other hand moved to his flannel, struggling to undo the buttons one-handed and had to have your other hand join in. Joel’s hand decided to busy themselves with the button of your jeans, sliding the zipper down. Just as you were about to undo the final button, he pulled away and undid it himself, pulling the flannel off and discarding it somewhere behind him. You pouted at the sight of the undershirt, and he laughed at your expression, pulling it off and threw it back to join his flannel. Suddenly his self-consciousness about being shirtless was left at the door, along with all of your doubts and worries.

You sucked in a breath, and had dreamed of this sight. You knew he was solid, broad, but this was a sight to behold. He was all smooth, freckled, tanned skin, his stomach a little pudgy but meaning it was well loved. It was all you had imagined, and a little more.

“... darlin’? Did you hear me? Lift your hips for me.” he said, bringing you back to reality, and you obeyed as quickly as you could to catch up with him. He pulled your jeans down, and you felt the cool air settle on your skin and realized he took your underwear down too. You whined in anticipation and he paused just as your jeans hit the ground. He looked up at you, a silent question in his eyes and you gave him a strained smile and a subtle nod. He settled on the floor, a hand tracing down your torso to your stomach, then pelvis. He kissed your knees, then your thighs and eased them open gently.

“Jesus,” he murmured as he looked down at your glistening cunt, and you lifted yourself up onto your elbows in a sudden movement to capture his reaction. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With little preamble, he leaned his head down and you lost the support of your arms as you fell back when you felt his tongue give a firm swipe up your folds. Your hands gripped the sheets out of pure bliss. If this is what you felt like now, what was in store for you next?

Joel’s lips pressed to your clit which was already throbbing with need, and your eyebrows knit together as he began to suck on it gently. Your hand itched to thread through his hair, and he did another swipe up and down your cunt before sliding his tongue inside. You both let out a chorus of groans and gasps, your back arching off the bed and his hand moved to press against your lower stomach to keep you in place. He repeated a cycle of licks, kisses, and sucking of your clit that made you see stars. Your hand eventually found the back of his head, and you really didn’t have to do anything as he pressed himself more into your cunt, his nose swiping over your clit as his mouth worked in and out of you.

“Joel-” you whined, feeling the sensation of a tightening in your stomach, your lower back alight with heat. He must feel you were close, as you gasped when two fingers entered you, joining Joel’s mouth as he worked you. “Fuck,” you sighed, trying to turn your head to look down at him. But, it had been so long since you had had a proper orgasm not by your own hand that all you could do was lay back and take it.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby.” he murmured, the words of praise making you exhale sharply before sucking in another breath at a strong suck to your clit. His fingers worked in and out, the sounds of squelching from your wet cunt filling the room. Your body began to wind up, your stomach flexing under his hand that still rested there.

“That’s it. Come for me, darlin’.” he said, not sure if he was actually talking to you or your body to coax you into an orgasm. He then curled his fingers inside you and you tightened around them, body trembling and you let out a whine that turned into a moan, your hand holding onto his hair as the other gripped the sheets for dear life. Your body flooded with endorphins, and you felt a flooding sensation down south as well. Joel pulled out his fingers, lapping up your release with obscene noises. With a few swipes of his tongue and a few swirls around your clit, you had come down gently, eyes closed as black and white danced behind your eyelids.

Feeling him shift, you opened your eyes and he coaxed you into pulling off your shirt and unclasping your bra. Your body felt weightless but heavy all at the same time, but you found the strength to move back on the bed with trembling limbs from your orgasm. Joel undid his jeans and pushed them down before climbing on top of you. You looked down and… god. He was impressive.

He kissed you deeply, bringing you out of your thoughts abruptly once more, tasting yourself on his tongue. He rested a hand on your waist, his hips instinctively grinding against your own and you shivered at the touch, winding a hand through his hair to keep him close. Your hand found his cock and you gave it a few encouraging pumps, finding he was rock solid.

“Shit, sweetheart, if you do that- I’m not gonna last-” he groaned, and you smirked against his lips and pressed him against your folds. Even feeling the head of his cock was enough to send you spiraling and your grip on him loosened. But, he was quick to take it and align himself, mouth moving in tandem with yours. He gave a few swipes of his tip and just when you were about to beg, he slid himself inside, bit by agonizing bit. You sucked in a breath as Joel exhaled with a soft moan, your mouths open and hovering between each other. Your hand moved from his hair to his cheek, and he pressed his forehead against yours as he began to rock his hips.

You were in bliss. It was such an intimate, soft moment as he took his time moving in and out of you. A hand loosening on your waist, his hand explored the expanse of your side, up and down as the other supported his weight next to your head.

“Joel…” you whispered, your other arm abandoning the sheets and curled around his back to keep him close. He rocked back and forth and hit your cervix, once, twice, three times until it became a habit. Your body began to tense again, and he groaned into your neck, your name escaping him with a hiss. He kissed your neck, his hips moving a bit faster, hitting that spot with more force. Your toes began to curl as your legs wrapped around his waist, and he began to stiffen, but didn’t let up his pace.

“Come on, give me another one.” he murmured against your skin, and your cunt twitched at the encouragement, causing him to moan again. You didn’t think he would be this vocal during sex, but god you were loving every bit of it.

“Please, Joel- I wanna-” you whined, and he reached down between you two and began to rub circles on your clit to further encourage you. Your lips parted, eyebrows scrunching up. That’s all it took for you to come undone the second time that night, tightening around him and encouraging his own release. His hips stuttered, giving about three more languid thrusts. He then quickly moved, sitting up slightly as he pulled out and pumped his cock, his sticky release painting your pelvis and stomach with white.

“Fuck.” you whispered, and grinned, Joel panting as he watched his work, and then moved his eyes to you. You couldn’t want to taste that coming down your throat. But, next time.

He leaned down, uncaring that he smeared his release between you as he kissed you deeply. You couldn’t find the strength to meet him halfway, but raised a hand to press against his face to keep him there for a moment.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and mumbled a “be right back,�� moving to go down the hall to the bathroom and he came back with a damp washcloth, wiping himself and you down. He set it to the side, and joined you on the bed. His arm moved over your torso, and he propped himself up to look at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“So… you’ll still stay?” he questioned, his voice soft, questioning. But, you already knew your answer, and gave him a smile, and a gentle nod.

~*~*~

Somewhere in the night, you had to borrow some of Joel’s clothes. The cold draft in the room was a bit more tolerable with a t-shirt and sleep pants on. Luckily Joel had enough for the both of you.

The sunlight peeked through the faded curtains, signaling morning had come. You lay on your side, Joel’s body pressed against your back, an arm around your waist. Your eyes opened slightly, still thick with sleep, but taking in your surroundings. Joel’s room was simple, but cozy. The sunlight filtering in was warming up the area, and you held onto the pillow just a bit tighter, pressing back against Joel to savor his warmth.

When you did, Joel let out a hum, and you felt a kiss on your shoulder, then another. And another.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.” Joel chuckled, and gave your hip a squeeze. You grinned, turning in his arms and laid on your back, looking over at him.

“Well, having three rounds was enough to knock me the hell out.” you laughed. You really didn’t know how Joel could keep up with the age he was at. But, he was insatiable, like a horny frat boy at a sorority party. And you weren’t complaining.

“Mm. You sound so upset.” he chuckled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then sitting up a bit to kiss your lips. Now that this particular moment in your relationship had happened, Joel seemed a bit less nervous and a bit more giving. You could only wonder what the future had in store.

“Did Ellie come home?” you suddenly questioned, and Joel nodded, his hand running up and down your side, pulling you close.

“She did. Don’t worry.” he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted to laugh at that- Joel Miller telling you not to worry? That was yet another first.

You sat in silence, the sun growing more and more bright as it rose in the sky. It gave the room a very warm, inviting, and comforting tone. You sighed as Joel leaned his head into your neck, his scent enveloping you. Turning your head to press your nose to his forehead, he gave her shoulder another kiss, then your neck.

“So, does this mean I can hold your hand around town now?” Joel mumbled, and you couldn’t help but grin like a kid on Christmas.

“Only if I can tell people about my absolute hunk of a man.” you teased, and Joel lifted his head at that, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m a what?” he asked, though it was in disbelief and not confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed, and raised a hand to card through his unruly brown and silver locks. He gazed down at you, his brown eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered now. You felt that familiar twist in your lower stomach, and smiled. “You’re my man, that’s all that matters.”

Joel nodded, and kissed your lips again,

“And you’re my girl?” he questioned genuinely against your lips. The sentiment and hopeful tone eased any tension that was left in your body. Your hand tightened in his hair just enough to apply pressure and deepen the kiss, your body shifting and calling for his own. And just as sure as the sun rises, his body met yours halfway, answering that call.

“I am. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.” you murmured, and you could feel Joel’s smile on your lips, humming in delight. Feeling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a world that had gone to hell, you stayed in each other’s embrace as the sun rose high in the sky.

Daylight has never looked so beautiful.

THE END.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x ofc #jackson!joel #tlou hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #visionsfics

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garoujo · 1 year ago

Note

saetoru is talking abt you on her private blog (@/clorindes) yuckkkkk

CW BULLYING, LITERALLY IMMATURE HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA, SUB POSTING.

hi nonnie, thank you for letting me know! since i’m leaving this blog & this platform for the foreseeable future i figured i might aswell get a few things off of my chest before i go. i apologise in advance for the vibes this post will probably bring, the discourse & the posts that will ofcourse follow, but i honestly i am not the first person to be targeted by this creator and i’m sure i won’t be the last considering the amount of creators that have been bullied off of this app by them.

first off i’ve had multiple blogs that would be considered bigger blogs such as @/hvnlydmn, @/atsymu + now this blog which is the biggest of all 3. i think there’s a sort of unspoken responsibility that comes with being a bigger blog which i know is no fun but it’s also because it can be super harmful on a site like this, when people weaponise their following.

on that note i’ll start this post by saying that i’ve known tee for probably around 3/4 years, maybe? we were mutuals on hvnlydmn & atsymu and we continued to talk on discord even when i was off of tumblr. i will honestly admit to this day i have never had a negative interaction with tee to my face and she was genuinely supportive of me during any discourse i was involved in. i am not some angel, i’ve had my fair share of crap on this app (of my own doing) but this post is not meant to come across like “oh she doesn’t like me so i’m calling her out” no. im sorry if this doesn’t line up with my brand and my ‘victim complex’ but i’m not gonna lie down and let someone on a power trip on a hobby app drag me through the mud.

first off i had began to get some off vibes from tee when i had started writing on garoujo, notably when i’d just hit my first milestone which was probably around 1k. during this i had decided to move my instagram theme from my main blog to my writing blog.

i’d noticed tee subposting (on main and on her personal blog which i followed at the time) about someone basically using the same theme as her, which after then clicking onto her blog i realised was an instagram theme. i didn’t think much of it, again me & tee were friends and she hadn’t came to me directly so ignored it. i was still a new blog and trying to solidly an aesthetic (before the beige lol) so i changed my theme / masterlists / layouts a lot.

a few more sub posts later i decided to message tee about it because with every thing i’d change / post on my blog, there always seemed to be another post. so i messaged her and got this response in: (i’ve blurred out my irl name btw) open up pics for convo!

so i let it slide, kept posting & that was that. probably a few days / a week later, tee had soft blocked me which then eventually led to me being hard blocked. i was upset ofcourse because i genuinely considered tee a good friend but i’ve always been a big advocate in controlling your space.

this was when, one of our mutuals in common (the first of many may i add) approached me on discord to say that just like now, i was being ripped to shreds on tee’s personal blog:

again i was notably upset about this because i was being accused of not only copying her theme but also her writing & masterlists, we did have a lot of mutuals in common so it was also upsetting knowing they would all be seeing these posts aswell. i allowed myself one sub post about “creating a narrative” because i was particularly frustrated but tee then also subposted about this, even though she had me blocked?

i would also like to say regarding our mutuals in common that this was not the first or last mutual to approach me regarding tee. i’ve had multiple people tell me that “they’re only mutuals with her because it would be more damaging not to be” “it’s easier to be on her side”. also i am not saying this is okay but i’ve had multiple of her current mutuals send me not only her posts, but screenshots of her private, personal instagram & also tell me about how all of them and their friends had a running joke / theory that tee made up her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) for attention.

regarding the accusations from tee i’d like to first comment on the instagram themes, again i had done an instagram theme on my main blog but it seemed to only be an issue when it was on my writing blog that was gaining traction. if the timing was off and it seemed like i copied her, i genuinely have nothing to say except it’s not the case— it’s instagram (which tee already admits she doesn’t own above) also the hanma writing? i’m still not 100% sure which drabbles she was referring to but i can only assume that 1. is when i posted a drabble about hanma fucking you outside of his subordinates house — this was a almost completely word by word rewrite of a suna drabble i done on my old blog @/atsymu i literally just changed the concept to fit tokyo revengers themes. i can post screenshots of this suna drabble also from my google docs dated February when i deactivated. the other one may have been some basic concept about him fucking you against the window.

she also mentions in the very first recent screenshot at the beginning of this post that i have apparently stolen concepts of fics / posts from her mutuals. what i want to say regarding this is, do you believe that i would have made it this far on stolen work? i don’t know any of the mutuals she’s referring to apart from 1 which i’ll get into. but every single accusation i’ve ever received has always come from someone associated or in contact with tee, she has always been at the root of it all but i have yet to receive a single anon or ask about me copying or taking inspiration from anyone’s work.

i know there was apparently a blog and an ex mutual of mine, who i had a lot of respect & time for who was under the impression i’d stolen their concept for this gojo fic. the whole premise of this fic is honestly not uncommon considering how many times people losing control of their techniques / powers / quirks during orgasm has been done in fanfiction. this concept was completely my own, i had originally posted shitposts about him losing control of his technique & also him putting you into a mating press / breeding before i’d decided to smoosh them together into a fic. we all read from the same workbook, we all have the same material to work off of — two people in a fanbase of THOUSANDS having a similar idea is not unheard of.

now onto the masterlist banners. the screenshot on the far left are the comparison photos that tee made herself— i’m sure you’ll be able to see them in better quality when she makes her own post about it; because obviously that’s going to come. first off i will say, i will admit i took inspiration from her official art masterlist banners — i thought hers looked good and i needed a masterlist so i used official art. fair game there although i only kept them for a few days before i changed again.

but onto the grey masterlist banners, i can honestly say i did not even know tee had this masterlist, also the only comparison i myself see is the colour. the only reason i chose grey was because i had started to use a grey / white overlay on my manga panels for my layout (as you can see far right), and as you know— i’ve always kept my colour scheme pretty consistent. on that note, regarding the actual layout of the masterlists— i’ve added screenshots from atsymu (that i could find due to it being deactivated) that shows the layout of my old masterlists, which was what i took inspiration from for my current. although the title font for each heading like headcanons is different, i had used the sort of old style, basic font that everyone uses before i had deactivated so it would match my fic headers i just don’t have photos obviously.

anyway on the back of this there was then discourse over me apparently copying tee’s kinktober masterlist, which again was not the case. but again due to tee’s following i had received multiple death threats into my asks the morning after i posted mine. as far as i was aware, the only similarities were the fact we both used gifs in our headers & the layout listing thirsts, hcs & fics (which is very common during kinktober but i admitted below i could see that similarity). unfortunately during all of this discourse was when ffflowers, my hate blog also came into the mix which then lead to tee reaching out to me in dm’s from her old blog.

the interaction between me & tee was pretty good, again she was nothing but nice to me directly despite the way she obviously spoke about me in private above. but as you can see below, tee herself told me that basically most of the similarities all made above were brushed off as basic. we spoke about the ig themes & i apologised, saying i could understand where she was coming from and that was that. i unblocked her & she unblocked me so i could reblog her post, it’s been that way since.

it is not my place to comment on other people’s experiences on this app but i would need more than 2 hands to list the amount of people that i’m sure have had similar if not worse experiences with tee. i know i have had multiple mutuals who have been bullied off of this platform & had their safe space ripped from them for little things such as: liking a character that this group selfship with, tee and her friends not liking their characterisation. they’ve even went as far as to go through other larger creators notes to check for minors so they can make excuses as to why they’re thriving.

i also know of a blog who was ‘blacklisted’ from tee & her mutuals as they self shipped with arataki itto at the time, one of tee’s friends also did, so they blacklisted this creator and had all of their mutuals block them for this which then in turn drove this creator off the app. there has been other notably bitchy things that i’ve heard but i have no receipts for therefore i don’t see any relevance in starting rumours.

i would also like to say i know plagiarism is a horrible thing, we have all been through it— myself included but it’s got to the point where being accused of copying tee has become a canon event. notably, bigger platforms have been ruined and driven off of this app for little things such as mdni dividers, similar colours schemes etc. and it’s the reason i’m also leaving.

i will say i have met some amazing people through my discourse with tee, notably people who have been in similar situations and i also apologise to any mutuals who we still have in common who are now sort of stuck inbetween. no hard feelings. although to tee: id be careful of the people you trust because it seems the loyalties they have to you are not as sincere as you may believe. you can also go to her personal & read the other things she was saying about me like how she was always so ? at how many people seemed to like me.

so that’s all i have to say, i’m sure dash will get a few responses from this but i’ll be logging out & turning off asks because honestly? couldnt care less. the only thing i’d change about my experience on this app would be i wish i’d blocked tee sooner.

i’d say have a nice day, but instead, have the day you deserve.

— emmie :)

#i apologise in advance to my mutuals & the innocents #i probably had more to say but yk i was rambling atp #anyways see u guys 🖤 love most of u !

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t-lostinworlds · 10 months ago

Text

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#bhh #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

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yuriisclumsy · 3 months ago

Note

Sending in a request for a Genshin or Lout fic! I’ll give you a few prompts you can choose from (you only need to pick one) and write a fic for who you think suits it best!

intuition, obvious, (il)logic, test, levity

((thank you so much and no rush!!)) - @paimonial-rage

Intuition

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2058

[Authors Note]: OMG I'm so sorry guys for the late update! Something went wrong and now is now I figured it out. So here you go! It took me a while to figure this one out, but I managed to get something going. This is a gift for another blog, @paimonial-rage! They do Genshin requests (fanfiction with reader insert) for anyone interested.

»»►Cale has an intuition that [Name] is in danger.

»»►...

»»►What?

»»►That’s all I’m telling you, no spoilers for you!

The high walls of the Roan Kindom’s palace stood the testament of war being waged at its firmament. It had been many a time someone dared to destroy it, but none came close to achieving their goal.

Not when there was a great commander in charge.

In one of the many rooms withholding secrets never to shed light to the world in the palace, stood two esteemed figures; one, bearing the crown, the other, his most trusted friend and sworn-brother.

“Cale, Cale, what will I be without you?” The ever-loved crown prince–now king–asked.

“You’d still be a crown prince fighting to retain the crown, Alberu,” Cale sipped his tea nonchalantly, ignoring the unamused face he was getting.

Alberu sighs from the otherwise boring reaction. “Even after all this time, you’re still trying to piss me off. And here I thought that perhaps marrying that girl would make you more sensible.”

“Then you guessed wrong, my king,” Cale slightly vowed.

“Stop that.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he gave a polite smile.

Alberu shook his head and let out another sigh. This won’t stop until Cale won, so it was simpler to just surrender. “How is married life going for you?” He took his tea and blew to calm it.

“It's actually going well,” Cale responded, thinking back on his experience so far.

He got married a while ago, two months ago, to be precise. It had been slow, sharing the same room with someone, but they had adjusted just fine ...aside from the fact that his wife moves a bit too much when she sleeps. Cale learned to either build a fortress of pillows that separated them or hug her the whole night–though this option comes with sweat greeting them the next morning.

“I’m still not used to her being in my—our room,” he corrected himself. “And when will you get a wife, huh? Don’t you think the kingdom deserves a queen?”

Alberu threw daggers at him mentally, hoping he’d drop dead where he stood. “Haha…funny.” He placed the cup down on the table where the saucer was. “Although…it would be nice to have someone to share my troubles with,” he looked Cale in the eyes when saying that.

Liar. You want me to ask so I can fix your messes, Cale thought, internally scuffing at the man.

He put in his diplomatic smile. “Oh, but your highness. You always can share your concerns with me, your most loyal subject. I can assure you that even the future queen would agree with me.”

“Ha! You’re a bastard through and through,” Alberu crossed his arms in amusement.

Yeah, right. The only bastard here is you—! Cale’s cup fell lento, as if time had slowed down entirely.

Alberu’s eyes widened in surprise, “Cale, are you okay?” He stared at Cale to see if it was another of his antics but he looked completely still, with his face growing paler by the second. The king shot up thinking of the worst. “Damn it! Is it poison?!” He checked the teapot for any unusual smells.

“No, no,” Cale patted the king, who by now was by his side, to calm down. “I just…had a shiver run down my spine.”

His sworn brother remained silent for a short moment, and then his mouth opened. “If it were a mare shiver, you wouldn't have reacted like that. Cale, I know you. And the you, I know, doesn’t fear much.” He grabbed Cale by the arms, “now tell me, what made you react in such a way?”

“...” Cale looked at him and then at the floor, unsure of what to tell him.

“Cale…” Alberu shook him a little, firming his hold a bit more, to show that he was there if it were something bad.

“*sigh*...I got this feeling…” he paused, inhaling grimly, “that something bad is going to happen to [Name]. But, it’s just a feeling. It’s probably my overthinking, you needn't worry about it.”

Alberu was at a loss for words. Yes, with fame and power, came great danger. But he didn’t think that his friend–his brother-in-arms–would be so unworried for a thought like that.

No… He was more worried about it than he let on.

He released his hold on Cale, straightening himself.

“Alberu?” Cale looked up from the loss of pressure, “did something happen?”

“...You need to go,” he said.

“What?”

“You need to go,” he repeated.

Cale could only stare, not sure why he was saying that. “But…why?” He looked like a small child who had lost their mother in the market and was asking for help from a stranger with a sad look on their face.

“Oh, for heaven's sake…” Alberu’s hands clutched themselves to Cale’s coat, “damn it, you dense donkey! You had a thought about your wife being hurt, you need to go, and make sure she’s in perfect shape like the good husband you are!!"

At this point some of the knights were hearing the commotion inside but dared not intrude on the scolding from a mother to their child, it brought trauma none of them wished to relive.

“So you will stand up,” he brought Cale to his feet, “and go to your wife!!”

And that’s how Cale Henituse, the great commander of the Roan Kingdom, was promptly kicked out and banned from entering the castle until the king received notice of his wife’s safety.

Cale gawked at the castle for a few minutes after that. He looked like a fish out of the water: stupid.

He sighed out of his daze. “Ron?” He turned to his butler who accompanied him on his trip.

“Yes, young master?” Ron vowed.

“Get me home as fast as you can,” he ordered as he opened the carriage doors and climbed in, shutting the door in the process.

“As you wish, Master Cale,” Ron got up to the carriage’s coachman seat. Taking the leach of the horses, he made a swift movement, and the horses were galloping towards the exit.

The path home was peaceful. Yes, there were a few pours here and there, but that was only for a bit. What could not find rest, was the man inside the carriage.

He fidgeted sporadically, his leg went up and down in impatience, and his eyes fixated on the outside where they could see the slightest glance of his territory's walls. Anything that could calm his unease.

I should have brought Raun with me, or a magic item that could teleport me back faster. He thought of all the things he could have done to fasten the transportation to his manor.

The sight of walls and a flag in the distance made Cale happy.

Home. Alas, he was closer to his wife.

The carriage passed the high gates of the city, not needing to check inside for threats when the man who had saved them plenty of times was inside. The knights saluted as he entered.

Arriving at the manor, he dismounted the carriage walking to the entrance. A few servants waited right outside the door, vowing to greet their master. He stopped just as he passed the doors, making his two trusted butlers look at him: one in worry, and the other in amusement.

“Master Cale?” Hans called. “Is something the matter?”

“...Ron,” he said his butler's name without looking back.

“Yes, Master Cale?”

“Can you do me a favor, and go hunting for a few loud quails?” He said.

Ron smirked. “As you wish, Master Cale,” he vowed before turning and leaving the manor.

“Quails?” Hans asked, “But we already have plenty of them.” His eyes widened, “please don’t tell me what I think that is referring to…”

Cale continued to the gardens where he knew his wife would be. “Don’t worry about Hans. You’re not the one getting their hands dirty with animal feathers,” he said with a smile.

“Please don’t smile when you say that…” he looked nauseous.

…

The wind blew swiping and budging any object its strength could move. The wind chime followed the rhyme of the calm breeze as it passed through. Soft humming that sounded like they belonged to a fairy filled the air of the manor’s garden. It came from the lady of the house; a beautiful and delicate flower, who married the lout son of the family.

She lowered herself to be a few inches from the bed of flowers planted for her by her husband's wishes;.He planted them for her happiness; she loved flowers as much as she loved him.

Her hands lifted a white tulip, her eyes observed its color and physique. “You have grown from the last time I saw you,” she songily whispered. “Cale would be happy to see you like this.”

People often gossiped how, in their eyes, she took care of the plants like if they were her children. Yet, they know not that these small greeneries are as alive as any other living creature. They can call her crazy all they want, for she already found someone that loves her. Even if he did find this fixation of hers a little odd.

“Happy to see who?” a voice asked from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that questioned her, but her smile made it clear that she knew who it was that asked.

“Cale,” she said his name, love surrounded his name. She stood up to greet her one and only husband. “You’re back so soon, I thought you said you would be in the capital for 10 days.”

“Something came up for the king, so I decided to come back,” Cale embraced her warmth. She smelled like the flowers she loved.

She returned the hug by wrapping her arms around him, “you missed me that much?”

“Shut up,” he scuffed and let go of her.

She giggled in response. “Hehehe, didn’t you though?” her eyes met his, “you missed your wife so much, that you came running here.”

“As if. I had no other business in the capital other than meeting with his majesty.” Excuses. His wife could tell. He might think that he's not that easy to read, but for her, he was like a poster in a billboard right in the public's eyes.

“Sure, sure…I believe you.”

“No, you don’t, [Name].”

“Yes I do!” She pouted.

“Master Cale,” Ron made himself known as he walked towards them.

“Ron!” [Name] ran to the old butler. “Ron, won’t you agree that Cale came back so quickly because he loved his wife so much, he couldn't spend a single day more in the capital?” She asked, dramatizing the whole thing to embarrass her husband.

Ron had the smile only a demon could have when they had their enemies greatest weakness.

“Don’t you dare,” Cale warned.

“Oh, but I must agree with Lady [Name],” he closed his eyes, “The young master whined the whole way here. “Oh, how I wish I was next to my wife. My sweet, and beautiful, [Name]...”” Ron was mocking him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Damned old man…

“I see, I see…” she nodded along. She was enjoying this far too much.

“Okay, that’s it,” he stepped towards them and grabbed her by the arm, “we’re leaving.”

“Awe, if you wanted to have me all to yourself you can always ask,” [Name] placed a hand on her check, cooing at Cale.

“Why did I marry you?”

“Because you love me!” She gave him the happiest smile she had; the same one she had on their wedding day; the same one she had when he asked her to marry him; the same one she had when he pronounced his love. It was her normal smile.

“...” Cale had a blush on his face. He caught the smug smile from Ron, and that just made him instantly frown, ruining the beautiful moment. “Let's go,” He continued to pull her along. She giggled at his antics.

“Oh, Ron?” he halted.

He smiled, “Yes, young master?”

“Did you finish your hunt?”

Ron’s smile widened. “Yes. We’ll be having 6 quails for dinner.”

“Great,” he resumed his pace.

“Wait, I thought it was beef for dinner today.”

“That too.”

“???”

Fin

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#reader input #cale henituse x reader #reader insert #manhwa fanfic #manhwa x reader #lout of the count's family x reader #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse #ron mulan #alberu crossman #hans #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #x reader #totcf #manhwa

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straylightdream · 5 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

feedback and reblog with tags are greatly appreciate when you read one of my fics!

if you want to join my taglist for every or specific boys, please fill out this form.

contains smut: ♡

ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｎｇｓｅｒｉｅｓ

all for you - ✰

seasons of time - college au ✎

ｗｒｉｔｉｎｇｓｅｒｉｅｓ

look what you made me do - series if reputation inspired songs

1989 - a series inspired by taylor swift songs of the same name

love & money - ceo and or sugar daddy stories - $

my only one - stories about the boys as husbands and fathers - ❀

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 (𝐬.𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐬)

• dancing with our hands tied - I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us. ♡ $ (rep)

• late night calls - it’s four in the morning and there is only one person he wants to talk to. ♡ ✰

• midnight drives - you shouldn’t of fallen for your sister’s ex boyfriend but you can’t help it. ♡

• 2 years of trying - you always thought conceiving a baby would be easy. It turns out both you and your husband were wrong. ♡ ❀

• complete mess - life is hard, and he can’t take the weight of the world that feels like it’s on his shoulders. when he asked you to run away with him you can’t imagine saying no. ♡

• all a lie (coming soon) - he never planned on being a sugar daddy. he pays her to tutor him but when he finds out she’s struggling to get by. things get complicated when sex is involved. ✎ ♡

𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧

• understand - Watching your “best friend” marry your ex is heart breaking. At least Jeonghan is by your side. He’s the only one who could make you feel less heartbroken. ♡

• unconditional - life has been hard, and you know you’re not easy to love right now. No matter how hard things get he’a always by your side.

• apt. 847b (camgirl reader) - fucking your new roommate probably isn’t your brightest idea. But when you’re so down bad you can’t help it. ♡ ✰

𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠

• love is (not) easy - Sometimes you fight with the person you’re truly supposed to be with. Sometimes it’s not easy loving someone. ♡

• delicate (camgirl reader) - Long night, with your hands up in my hair. Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs. Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• i didn’t plan it - sometimes you don’t fully plan on things happening. something little slip ups are supposed to happen. ♡ ❀

you are in love (coming soon) - being friends with benefits with your childhood best friends makes things extra complicated. ✎ ♡ (1989)

𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐢

• so it goes… (camgirl reader) -Getting caught up in a moment. Lipstick on your face, so it goes. I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢)

• …ready for it? - In the middle of the night, in my dreams. You should see the things we do, baby. In the middle of the night in my dreams. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• be my mistake - sometimes you should just delete your exes contact info so you don’t wind up naked in his bed again. ♡

𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨

• three simple words - You were his first serious girlfriend and his first for many things, and he was the first boy you had ever actually loved. For some reason saying those three simple words terrified you. ♡

• king of my heart - I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone. We met a few weeks ago. Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• meet me in the hallway (feat: wonwoo x reader x ‘mingyu) - They been best friends their whole life. They’ve shared everything but they have never shared a girl. What happens when no one can keep their emotions out of this? ♡

• body and soul - after a rough day the only thing he wants to do is go on a motorcycle ride with you. (can be read as a connecting story to king of my heart) ♡ ✰

• never leave this bed - once your husband returns from a long trip you want nothing more then to stay in bed together. ♡ ❀

• across the room - I caught your eye across the room. No one can feel the tension between me and you. There’s no need to mention all the things I wanna do. You wanna do ‘em too. We both know we’d be over if they knew. ♡

• limbo (coming soon) - you’re friends with his ex, and he can’t seem to get your cherry colored lips out of him mind. ♡ ✎

• heaven knows (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) - who knew being roommates could turn into so much more. (coming soon) ♡

𝐣𝐢𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢)

• dress - Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧 (𝐝𝐤)

• sleepover buddies (coming soon) - This isn’t the first time you have cuddled while you slept. But this is the first time you’ve woken up to his morning wood digging into your butt. ♡

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮

• I’m not sharing - “I swear to god Kim Mingyu I’m going to ban you from sharing a bed with me ever again, if you don’t stop stealing my blanket,” you whined as you pulled harshly on the blanket that was wrapped around him. ♡

• call it what you want (coming soon) - I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck chain 'round my neck. Not because he owns me. But 'cause he really knows me ♡ ✰ (rep)

• heaven knows (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) - who knew being roommates could turn into so much more. (coming soon) ♡

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝟖)

• don’t blame me (stripper reader) - I would cross the line. I would waste my time. I would lose my mind. They say, "She's gone too far this time." ♡ $ (rep)

• I don’t understand but I love (coming soon) - being roommates with your ex isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. Things get messy when sex comes into play, but you can’t keep your heart out of this. ♡ ✰

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐧

• kiss it all better - overworked and exhausted. You can’t wait to spend time with your husband who is a stay at home father. ❀ ♡

• new year’s day (coming soon) - You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi. I can tell that it's gonna be a long road. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐧

• getaway car - The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him. I needed a reason. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 (𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨)

• this is why we can’t have nice things (coming soon) - here's to you. 'Cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do. I can't even say it with a straight face. ♡ ✰ (rep)

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #svt ml #seventeen masterlist

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superblysubpar · 7 months ago

Text

<- part six | part eight -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: No more bets.

the song: Read Your Mind by Sabrina Carpenter

also for your listening pleasure: Girl Can't Help It by Journey, Open Your Heart by Madonna, U Got The Look by Prince, and The Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh

5,328 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury / SPICE/SMUT - really just some dirty talk and a teensiet tiniest start to oral (reader receiving) | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

His hand was in yours, and then it wasn’t.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered in front of you as you blinked at the boy who just dropped your hand at the sound of it. “What do we have here, Stevie?”

A group of boys around your age leaned against a falling apart fence just outside of the ride, eyes surveying you up and down, then looking at Steve Harrington standing next to you. The leader of the pack a face full of freckles and a grin that made your stomach unsettled when he pointed it at you and took a step forward.

“I’m Tommy, and you,” he grinned wider, like if he showed off more teeth, he’d placate you into thinking you enjoyed his company, “Well, you must be new to Hawkins. Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

“Knock it off Hagan,” Steve grit out of his teeth, a fist clenched at his side.

“I’m…I’ll…” you stuttered out at the boy named Tommy, backing away and looking at Steve as you did. “It was…I’ll see you around?”

You scrambled away from the boys as Steve took a step towards you, but Tommy’s voice rang out, making his head turn.

“Does Harrington have a little girlfriend? Gonna share all the juicy details with us, Stevie?”

“What? No!” He answered too quickly, cheeks pink, no longer looking at you. “She’s just some stupid girl, I got stuck with her on the ferris wheel…”

You didn’t stick around to hear more, swiping at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand.

Glittery green and gold smeared across it, freshly smudgable after Steve Harrington held your hand until it was over.

A house on Cornwallis Street - Sunday

Your hands shifted on the steering wheel, even though the car was in park. Clammy and shaking as you rubbed them on your denim shorts and took a deep breath. With your window rolled down you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Journey coming from the backyard, the large splash that followed the shout of ‘Don’t you dare Henderson!’. Peals of laughter and the distinct smell of something grilling only added to elements encouraging you to join them.

But you were still sitting in your car.

You didn’t question it, when after the party last night, Eddie didn’t drive you home, but to the shop, dangling your keys in front of a shocked face as he proclaimed it was finally fixed.

“But…I didn’t pay you, I thought you couldn’t…”

Eddie had waved you off and smiled, “I’ve been working a lot.” He dropped the keys in your lap and grinned wider, “Besides, Harringon’ll be paying me three hundred bucks tomorrow.”

You looked down at your thighs, thinking about who’s hands had just been pushing them apart a few minutes ago as Eddie quietly probed, “Right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, telling yourself that technically you and Eddie had won the bet.

Nobody had slept with anyone.

Which is what you tell yourself again as you take another deep, bravery seeking breath and step out of your car.

Each step on the sidewalk then up the driveway is a little easier, your chest feeling a little lighter as the laughter and music only gets louder.

But then you see the sign.

The same color of the suit you have in your bag.

The same color he told you he can’t concentrate when you wear it.

Bright, bold, outlining four white letters.

SOLD.

You’re still looking at it when the door swings open, Robin greeting you, dripping wet from the pool and a slice of watermelon in her hand.

“Finally! I’m outnumbered, and Max is too busy canoodling with Lucas and I need more girl power!”

She grabs your arm and pulls you into the Harrington’s foyer as a louder call of, “I told you, as soon as Lucas apologizes for what he did-“

“And I told you, that I cannot apologize for something if I don’t know what I’m apologizing for!”

The pair walk out of a room on one side of the foyer as they argue, Max mumbling under her breath as they exit your sights and into the den.

“You know exactly what you did.”

Robin rolls her eyes and points up the stairs, “This downstairs bathroom is all packed up and,” she makes quotes with her fingers around the watermelon as she recites, “ ‘It’s cleaned and if any of you idiots fuck it up, you’re dead’ , but there’s one by Steve’s room, change and come help me seek vengeance on the boys!”

She’s gone as fast as she arrived, the silence of the house now overpowering, but at least it gives you space to take a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts.

Steve’s moving.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Your fingers glide on the wood banister as you climb the stairs, something sitting heavy in your gut from the more important question that’s gnawing at you.

Why does it matter that he didn’t?

Once you find the bathroom, your fingers tug on red nylon and strings. The suit you rummaged around for in your drawer this morning pointing out the glaringly obvious answer. It matters he didn’t tell you because-

It was a good suit, that was the only reason why it was picked for today.

Not because of where you were wearing it.

Not because of the boy who lived there.

Because he definitely still does live there, at least for the time being.

It’s easy to spot his room when you exit the bathroom, bare feet padding across hard woods as you tug the hem of your white tshirt over your hips a little lower. Worried you shouldn’t be walking around the house so uncovered despite the fact that you’re about to be even more so outside in the pool, when you catch your reflection in the mirror above his dresser.

The room is in shambles, half packed you assume. Boxes open, and only half filled, litter the floor, the white plaid wallpapered walls bare, whatever hung on the nails left behind now packed away. Your fingers linger on the top of the dresser, thumb catching on his watch, a Polaroid of him and Robin, the worn brown leather of his wallet. A tight squeeze pulls at something in your chest when the slip of paper with the name ‘Brit’ and a heart shifts beneath it.

You can’t help but wonder if he called that number that night like he said he would.

Wonder if he took her out to a movie, held her hand, let everyone know that Steve Harrington was on a date with her.

Your bag drops on his bed that’s unmade with sheets that match the walls as you wonder if she was here too. As you wonder how many other girls have been in this room, this bed.

A loud shout outside, just below his window makes you jump, pulling you out of the spiral of doubt you’ve fallen into and down the stairs.

The cream carpet is plush beneath your bare feet, the framed photos are gone, the desk as well, so nothing stands between you and the sliding glass doors out to the pool.

It’s a different view than the last time you were here. The bright turquoise littered with even brighter inflatables and swimsuits. It’s warm, it’s light, it’s loud, as bodies splash in it and compete with the radio playing top hits for the loudest thing. Eddie’s shaking his curls out back and forth all over Robin who’s shrieking and running past him.

The thought of stepping outside and arriving late has you turning into the kitchen, searching for something your hands can fiddle with before joining the party.

Which is how Steve Harrington’s lungs finally give out, and he dies.

He knows he’s not actually dying, but he’s sure that the process has to feel eerily similar to this.

He rounded the corner to find his fridge door opened, the glow of the interior light silhouetting around your curves hidden under a white shirt making his breath stutter in his chest. And as you bend at the waist, red fabric cut high and only climbing higher, reveals the perfect swell of your ass and his lungs fail to function, like one’s collapsing because he’s been shot, or he’s taking on water and they don’t know to expel the air anymore.

“Jesus Christ.”

It slips out of him much like the yelp the words startle out of you, the shoot up of your body involuntary, causing your head to smack into the top of the fridge and a litany of curses to tumble out of your lips.

Steve rushes over as you hold your head and spin, blinking and looking dizzy.

“Shit, shit, sorry.” He’s across the room in seconds, hands cupping your cheeks and tilting you gently while his eyes focus on your forehead, inspecting. He frowns and moves to the left slightly, towards the sink, though he leaves one of his hands in contact with your skin.

The furrow of his brow deepens as he dampens a towel and you try to breathe out of your nose and in with your mouth so you don’t focus on how his normal smell is stronger with his shirt off and mixed with sunscreen and chlorine that clings to his skin. Skin that shines with a sheen from each, that’s somehow not gross, but tantalizing. So much of that skin on display revealing more freckles than you can fathom counting. Skin that looks more tan from the dark chest hair curled against it or the swim trunks that sit low on his hips.

Steve looks at you with raised eyebrows and you realize he’s asked a question and you absolutely didn’t hear it.

“Um,” you swallow, your tongue taking up too much room in your mouth, “Wh-what?”

Steve’s lips twitch as he stands fully in front of you again, damp cloth raised as he whispers, “Something distracting you, honey?”

Your throat has something stuck in it, and no amount of clearing it seems to fix the problem. You focus on the freckle just to the left of his lips instead of his smug eyes as you admit, “Can’t concentrate when you wear that color.”

The reward of his low laugh and smile has you wondering if someone hand sculpted his lips and cupid’s bow.

“I’ll be sure to wear it every chance I get just to torture you then,” he murmurs while fingers adjust your chin into the light. Your back rests against the center island, legs sandwiched between his spread ones so he can raise the cloth to your skin, apologizing with his eyes as he tacks on, “Only fair, since you woke up and decided evil today.”

The damp material of his swim trunks sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your thighs, and your hands grab his waist in a wince when the cloth makes contact with your still fairly fresh head wound. You’re in a staring contest with a gold chain around his neck as you fib, “This is the only swimsuit I own. Just happens to be red.”

Steve finishes with your forehead, but two fingers curl under your chin and lift so you have to look at him as he speaks through a smirk.

“You’re pretty cute when you lie.”

“Come on Steve,” you whisper, fingers curling into his hips without thought, “You’re better than cheesy lines and rookie moves like this. Besides, the bet’s over. We can go back to hating each other now.”

He shakes his head, nose bumping yours as he does and he exhales, “Never hated you.”

Your swallow is loud as he leans closer, one hand on your hip and fingers playing with the so to speak fire of the strings holding your suit together as you offer, “Despised?”

Another shake of his head, another step closer so your lower halves are pressed together and your eyelashes are fluttering. Your head falls back with a gasp as his mouth trails along your jaw, hot breath and wet lips against it as you stutter out, “De-detest?”

He responds into your skin, just below your ear, something that sounds like the word, “Never.”

His name leaves you breathlessly as his tongue lightly licks down the side of your neck, lips following in a delicate brush.

“Steve-”

He hums into your collar, nose dragging around the curve of it while your hands grip his sides. “Stop saying my name like that honey, or I’m gonna get down on my knees and make you say it much,” he nips at your earlobe, “Much, louder.”

The space between your legs throbs, thighs push even tighter together at the thought of Steve’s mouth there.

“Steve,” you scold, cheeks warm, body even more so in all the places it touches his.

“Baby,” he groans, nose knocking your cheek, “What did I just say?”

He starts to lower himself, hands drifting so too, on the outside of your thighs. Brushing bare skin and aching to push it further, cup your ass and roll your hips against his. Especially when your fingers hold his jaw in place so he has to look at you. Only slightly distracted by how kissable your lips are as they say, “You’re moving.”

Steve shakes his head no and you laugh again and he wonders how many more times he can make that sound come out of you.

“Harrington, there’s literally a sold sign in your front yard.”

He leans in closer, unable to resist the chance to taste your lips again, to feel their lingering sting against them all day. He’s got this insane thought that he wishes you were wearing lipstick, so it could be smeared against him, marking up his mouth and neck, shit, even his dick, so everyone knows he’s yours, it’s yours.

“You worried I’m gonna be too far away?” He somehow manages to ask through the fog of images of your lips surrounding his cock, big eyes blinking at him as you-

“I’m actually worried it isn’t far enough,” you swallow around the tight feeling in your chest.

His forehead knocks yours, hands squeeze your waist and then climb higher on your curves as he tsks, “Even cuter. You gotta quit lying baby.” But he relents some of the upperhand, the thought of you being worried about him leaving making him admit, “I’m crashing at Robin’s for a bit. And we’re trying to save up for a place together.”

“Oh,” you nod, distracted by the way his nose traces the bridge of yours, how his eyelashes flutter and the freckles on his cheeks stand out more from a morning in the sun as he does. “Th-that’s good.”

“Yeah?” The corner of his lips rising in a smile making them brush yours.

“Mhm,” you hum, “So you can take Brit on that date still.”

“Who?” He blinks, cheeks turning pink as your fingers scrape up his stomach and through his chest hair.

“Brit,” your eyebrows raise, “Smells like peaches, and giggles and dots her eyes with hearts? The picture perfect girl to take out around town and proudly hold hands with?”

“Again,” Steve leans the few centimeters closer, whispering against your lips, “Who?”

You push at his chest, as much as it pains you to do so, needing the distance from the intoxicating mouth that smells like mint and lemonade. But

Steve remains strong in his position, fingers curl around your ear and hold your neck in place gently as he speaks like each word might spook you into running.

“I’m staying in Hawkins. I have no idea who you’re talking about. The bet is over. Can you stop being so stubborn and let me kiss you like I’ve been wanting to since we were twelve?”

Your heart rumbles low and slow, like thunder rolling in, it cracks in your chest like lightening hit it. Every ounce of your body is buzzing, like the strike tore your body in two. One part that can’t believe you’re hearing him say it and another that wants to run even though you know it doesn’t strike the same place twice. The fear of being caught in the storm with no way out has you stalling.

“Ask me nicely.”

Steve laughs, and you wonder how you never noticed how much you like making that sound bubble out of him.

Or how much you like the way he licks his lips before he says something important.

“Please,” he murmurs against your mouth, “Can I kiss you?”

Your lips part the same time a shriek calls from the den, “Steve! The food is burning!”

He curses under his breath, hand grabbing yours as he pulls you through the kitchen and into the den.

His frown only grows as the smell of burning food does when the two of you exit the sliding door. He tugs you with him across the warm pavement of the patio, the cool summer breeze has goosebumps arriving on your legs as he shouts at the curly haired boy fanning a smoking grill.

“Henderson! You had one fucking job, man! These aren’t just burning they’re-“

“Scorched,” Lucas supplies around a cough, smacking the air with his hat.

“Torched,” Mike pipes up, squinting and pinching his nose closed.

“Dead,” El delivers morosely.

Will snorts and covers his mouth and Max mutters under her breath, “Imbeciles.”

But then she’s smiling at you.

Then they’re all smiling at you, even Eddie and Robin who stand just beyond them, staring at Steve and yours intertwined hands.

The attention on it makes your hand feel too heavy in his and you go to slip it out, but Steve only squeezes it tighter, waving his other at them, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Now get lost, or I’m not making more and you can eat these disgusting things.”

The “kids” take off and Steve turns to you, thumb swiping over the back of your hand, cheeks pink and swallowing loudly. “Um, about my really nicely asked question that was rudely-“

“Yes.”

The just as interrupted response stuns him as much as it does you. But when he smiles, and takes your cheeks in both of his hands, and leans in slowly, you’re sure the answer was the right one, the storm clouds dissipate, the threat of another crack gone.

This kiss, is like rain.

The good kind of rain. Slow. Steady. Steve’s lips capture yours sure, calmly, breathing out just as the pair of his mold around your top one. He holds them through an exhale against your cheek as your hands fall to his chest naturally. You can feel the thud of his heart beneath your palm as his mouth parts to do it again, deeper, stronger. Each beat against your skin the rain hitting a window until it’s so natural, so steady, it’s a simple background noise.

It’s only when loud whoops and whistles break the calm that you hear yours in your ears and feel his heart again, the calm disrupted. Your cheeks warm beneath his palms as he kisses you again, a chaste and over too quick peck around a smile.

That pesky thing is still stuck in your throat, suddenly unsure how limbs and words and human things work anymore. You stumble a step back and trip on a pool noodle when your stomach flutters with a swarm of butterflies intent on trying to escape. He catches your waist before you fall as you gesture to the water, “Alright, well, that pool’s not gonna swim in itself.”

Steve smiles, but he narrows his eyes, squeezing at the outside of your thighs, “Honey, I thought we were done being mean to each other.”

Your eyes blink at him, confused, butterflies constructing a roller-coaster in your stomach now as well, as you ask, “How is me swimming being mean?”

“Kissing me like that then parading around in a little red bikini?” He swallows as his fingers play with the strings of said suit, whispering, “Mean. Incorrigible, baby.”

This feels surreal, his hands on you, calling you baby while your friends are only a few feet away and absolutely watching. Even more so when you whisper, “Big brain word.”

Steve taps your chin, lifting it as he asks, “What’s my prize?”

Looking into Steve’s, Buttercup’s description of Westley’s eyes being like the sea after a storm can’t help but float through your mind. But Steve’s are a lot more like the forest after one. Wet and darkened earth soaking up all it was just given, richer in color and waiting to be explored.

“What do you want?”

Steve grins, his mouth parts, but then you’re both being drenched with water, two buckets dumped over your heads as you shout in protest against the cold.

Robin and Max yell something about the fire in the kitchen being too hot and they needed to put it out as they run away from you both with laughter.

You peel off the white shirt that clings to your body now as you mumble something about payback. Steve groans at the reveal of your body in only the suit. It’s easy to look over your shoulder as you walk away from him and ask, “Tell me later?”

Even easier to shove a grinning Eddie towards the pool as you walk past and mumble, “Shut up.”

He grips at your shoulder as he flails, pulling you in with him, your double splash drowning out your shriek and the beginning of Madonna’s Open Your Heart booming out of the stereo.

When you resurface, swiping water from your eyes and laughing, you turn to find Steve again and aren’t surprised when he’s already looking at you. Your arms rest on the ledge when you swim up to the side and mock his voice, calling up to him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

He sticks his tongue out at you as you laugh and swim away, but he can’t help but wonder where he packed his Polaroid, and if he can get you alone long enough to snap several his eyes only photos.

He’s still thinking it, later, as the sun inches closer to the other side of the sky, and you’re relaxed on a lounger next to Robin.

Eyes hidden from him behind sunglasses, hands resting on your stomach, brushing back and forth over your skin as you roll your neck.

Prince’s U Got The Look fills the now much quieter backyard, the kids all having disappeared under the excuse of getting movie snacks and a video rental from Keith an hour ago. Robin’s voice interrupts the lyrics with, “How much you wanna bet they’re at the arcade and they aren’t coming back with the snacks?”

You groan and sit up, “No more bets. But,” a sigh leaves you, “Yeah. I’ll go order a pizza? Steve’s got a billion contraband rental’s downstairs too. I’m sure there’s something halfway decent in there.”

“Ha-ha,” he says dryly, watching you stretch has him sinking lower in the pool so only his eyes show. He squeezes them shut when your top slips just a smidge higher as your arms raise, the curve of each breast peeking out from the bottom and giving him a heart attack.

He’s certain that’s exactly what’s happening when he opens them to find you slipping your white shirt on. Only it’s not your white shirt.

It’s his.

Steve watches the collar linger on your nose, then slip over your chin as you smile at him and hook your thumb over your shoulder, “I’m - phone…pizza.” Stumbling over your words and shuffling towards the house quickly.

He waits exactly sixty seconds before he’s swimming towards the ladder and climbing out. Eddie’s voice taunts from the tube he’s floating in, with his arms behind his head, even with closed eyes he looks smug, “And where are you going?”

“To…help. With the calling for pizza.” He towels off quickly, Robin snorts and Eddie makes a booing sound.

Robin calls from her lounger, “Don’t say we never did anything for you, Dingus!”

Steve slides the glass door on their snickering, the house quiet and much cooler than the Summer outside. He glances in the kitchen, the hallway, searching for you, when he hears a creak upstairs.

He finds you in his room, in his shirt still, sunglasses pushed onto the top of your head as you sift through a bag and pull out a pair of denim shorts.

“Hi,” he whispers, when you look up at him.

“Hey,” you smile, voice quiet too, “Why are we whispering?”

“I-“ he starts quiet and clears his throat, returning to a normal volume, “I don’t know. Guess I thought if I spoke too loud I might wake up from this great dream.”

The grin spreads on your lips and you shake your head, “Wow. That’s bad, even for you, Steve.”

He takes a few steps towards you as you continue to shake your head with a smile, only stopping when he asks, “Say my name again? Please?”

Steve takes the shorts from your hands, dropping them on the ground as you murmur, gently, “Steve.”

His tongue darts over his bottom lip before he says, “Can I tell you what I want for a prize now?”

You’re only able to manage a small, “Mhm,” between pressed together lips as your hands sweat and your stomach burns, and your chest constricts while his fingers toy with the strings of your swimsuit bottoms.

He kisses you, slowly, licking out over the seam of your lips until you open for him. His hands guide you backwards gently until he’s climbing over your body on his bed and Prince’s voice fades into Chris de Burgh’s.

His body presses against yours, weight heavy and making your eyelids flutter as his hand cups your cheek, then traces your shoulder, the curve of your breast down to your hip. Your stomach burns with want, fingers dig into his hair as he releases your lips and kisses your chin, your chest through his shirt. He only travels lower, pushing it up and kissing your stomach, along the seam of your suit. Your legs rise on either side of his head, fingers leaving his hair to curl into his sheets that surround you and fill the space with a cedar and mint haze.

“St-steve,” you hiccup as he nips at the inside of your thigh.

He moans, palms pressing you open wider, mouth leaving a wet and hot trail of kisses and breaths up each leg. This wasn’t the plan, he wanted to take it slow, but he can’t help it anymore. He speaks into your stomach, kissing your skin between every few words.

“Baby, please, can I taste you?” His fingers tug on the strings of your suit and his vision blurs when you make a sound that sounds like a whine and roll your hips, searching. He’s gone fully blind as you tug on his hair again, drunk off of you without a single taste.

“Yeah? Gonna let me put my mouth on you?” He noses at your cunt through the suit, dragging it up against the fabric, babbling anything that comes to his mind without a filter. “That what you want, honey? To come all over my tongue?”

Your palms press to the bed as you sit up, fingers tugging at the mess of brown waves between your thighs when his tongue licks over your suit.

Your mouth parts in a gasp, eyes fluttering from the barely there friction, the minimal release of the tension you’ve felt since the kitchen downstairs hours ago.

Steve looks up at the sound and nearly comes in his shorts, the image of your dazed eyes and pouting lips, the heave of your chest under his shirt having him really thinking about where his camera is again.

“Oh,” his voice falls into a teasing lilt, playing with his food before he eats it, “Look at you. You’re already fucked dumb and I haven’t done a thing.”

Your body is engulfed in flames at the taunting words, somehow turned on and irritated in the same sentence.

A Steve Harrington special skill, you think.

He curses the words almost immediately after they leave him, thinking he’s pushed it too far too fast but then you’re saying his name like that again, saying the word please so softly, so sincerely, his vision goes white and scratchy like the tape of all of his abilities to think clearly was just ejected from his brain.

Steve sits up with a groan, backing away from the bed with the shake of his head.

“You’re trouble,” he rasps, breathing heavily from across the room, back against his dresser.

“What’s wrong?” The mood shift jarring and making your legs close, your arms cross over your chest in a hug, wondering what you did.

“This,” he says then immediately waves his hands, “No, not like that! I-“ he cuts himself off with another groan, a hand swipes through his hair only making it messier. You clench around nothing at the wild hair, the pink cheeks, the dark chest hair and tan skin as he paces.

“I wanna-“ he starts.

“Harrington! Quit making out up there and bring down some of what I gave you! I’m tapped and the pizza guy’s here.”

Steve curses and he spins on his dresser, grabbing his wallet.

His wallet.

Bring down some of what I gave you.

His shoulders hunch as he swears again, “Those…brats. I swear to god I’m gonna kill them.”

He spins to find you yanking your shorts on, muttering, “I cannot believe I fucking fell for this.”

“Fell for…what are you talking about?” Steve steps closer and you back up quickly, waving your hand at him.

“Save it.”

He watches you storm out of the room, confused, and then looks down at the wallet and quickly rushes out after you, “No, no, no, honey it’s not-“

“Don’t,” you spin on the stairs, voice icy, “Call me honey.”

Steve takes another step down, pleading with his eyes as Eddie, Robin, and a stranger stand in the foyer, blinking up at the two of you. “Eddie didn’t give me money for that. He…” his hand swipes through his hair again, tongue over his lip as he lowers his voice, “Can we please go somewhere else to talk about this?”

Your arms cross and Steve sighs.

“He gave me money…for a different bet. Sort of bet. Bet is a bad word for it.”

Something rumbles in your chest once more, though no storm was forecasted, you should have known there was bound to be more.

Steve’s lips pout as he waves his hand while explaining in a ramble, “After the bet started, I told them how much I actually liked you. And they agreed to help me. And if I got you to actually give me a chance, with their help of course, Eddie’d pay for a real date and Robin would cover our shifts when we went.”

The explanation should be sweet, but all you can focus on is that Steve didn’t just have the guts to tell you right away. That your friends all helped manipulate you and lied. You start to wonder if the power even went out, if Eddie knew Steve would be at that party, if Robin put In Your Eyes on on purpose, the diner, your car being busted - all of it.

What was real between you and Steve, and what was made with movie magic?

The storm cracks in your chest, letting the first drops fall down your cheeks.

“I have to get out of here.”

The calls of your name and his steps behind you on the stairs ignored as your vision blurs.

Leaving a boy standing in a yard on Cornwallis street while you disappear without your shoes again.

BICFTF TAGLIST: don'thatemedon'thatemedon'thateme there's still two chapters left! As always, thank you for your support!

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #cw injury mention

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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so jock yuuji and weird girl reader right? am i right?

weird girl who is the one who initiates any form of hostility. jocks arent jerks by defaults, yuuji definitely not. weird girl sees the world in popular / unpopular, uninteresting / interesting, pretty / meaningful, and general black / white thinking. extremes.

yuuji would just have no idea any of this is going on. like why is she mad at me. i wanted to ask her about the keychain on her bag. whyd she accept my follow request but not follow me back.

i love the dynamic of jaded reader x clueless blorbo!!! where they are both somewhat attracted to eachother the more they observe eachother around campus, but one pulls closer and the other pushes him away!!

jock yuuji def hangs out in the gymnasium instead of going to class btw. plays music out loud on his speakers thru the halls. if u even care. he carries around one of those big ass water bottles and he never got a backpack w him. just showing up to econ with nothing but a drawstring bag of ground down pencils and vibes

𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #9. first meetings.

about. a scenario in which the campus’ favourite jock lays eyes on his future freaky girlfriend for the first time.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, jock bf!itadori, weird gf + fem!reader.

imagine yuuji signing up to one of your classes and he kinda makes a fool of himself on the first day. like he shows up late because practice ran over, his laptop his dead and he doesn’t have a pen but your professor (and it’s taken like two years for you to have gotten on his good side) just lets it SLIDE !!! so you’ve already got your back up with yuuji — thinking he’s some dumb jock here to mess around in your class !!!

he takes the seat right next to you of course, introduces himself to you with a sunshine smile that keeps on burning even when you cut your eyes at him and ignore the poor guy. yuuji even goes as far as to ask you for a pen half way through the lecture — and your heart stops when your fingers brush as you pass one to him. he’s a stupid jock, you remind yourself, he’s probably just making fun of you.

the pink haired jock never leaves you alone after that day!! he says hi to you in the halls at dorms he visits or on the way to the library — his music playing obnoxiously through the speaker he carries even when the librarian politely tells him to quiet down.

yuuji sits with you at study cubicles every week even though you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him — but he follows you on Instagram, and asks you for notes from your shared classes, texts you about the socials coming up (even though you never go to them). and even though you think that he’s annoying… itadori is charming in a way.

he’s good to his friends, knows all of his teachers by name, he even studies hard — despite you thinking that he doesn’t.

maybe you misjudged itadori, maybe you were a little too harsh.

maybe you’re starting to think better of him, and he can kind of tell when wave him over to sit next to you during class and lend him the same pen you gave him when you’d first met.

#✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #yuuji itadori fluff #yuuji itadori x reader #⋆｡°✩ — jock bf!yuuji #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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annie-creates · 4 months ago

Text

Almost four hundred years

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x sister reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 900

Note: So I usually don't introduce new characters on a whim but I've been so obsessed I literally jumped out of the shower for this, so I just had to write it right away even when it's not that good. And to my possibly new Marvel/witchy/Agatha fans who haven't seen me before, hi, I hope you like this and please check out my blog for more very demure, very cutesy and most of all very lesbian fanfictions I write.

When you got on the Witch’s road, you didn’t know exactly what you expected to get out of it. You weren’t hungry for power, you were doing alright for yourself and there were seemingly no problems to be fixed or mysteries to be answered in your case. But the thought of belonging somewhere some time again was taunting, almost mocking you. You knew building an actual lasting coven with Agatha by your side was impossible, but still you hoped to have something that at least reminded of home.

As you left today’s trial behind and healed the teen’s wounds, you set up a campfire gathering around, using whatever was available to sit on. In your opinion, the ground covered in leaves was good enough. The kid was resting and Agatha was nowhere to be found, which gave room for an actual friendly conversation with the rest of the witches. One by one they shared stories and funny encounters, keeping the mood up, and you quite enjoyed their quirky company.

“Y/n, what’s your problem with the kid?” Lilia asked suddenly, all of them noticing you weren’t exactly fond of his chirpy personality. “Why are you so cold to him?”

“Nonsense, I’m great with children,” you emphasized, slightly offended.

“Come on now,” Jen forced with an amused smile.

“Well first of all, he’s unhealthily obsessed with Agatha and that in itself is a red flag if you ask me,” you shrugged. “And anyone who likes her this much just doesn’t know her enough.”

“Well for how long have you known her?” Alice reiterated.

“Almost four hundred years,” you admitted with a bit of shyness.

“How come?” asked Teen joining you at the fire without you noticing. “What’s your problem with her anyway. People change, she’s not the same witch she was in Salem.”

“Not this much, no. She killed my mom… my family, my coven, everyone I knew at the time,” even after all this time it was hard admitting everything that happened, partly because you blamed yourself for at least half of it. “And unfortunately, she’s my sister.”

“Wait so you’re… Y/n Harkness?” Alice questioned.

“Yeah,” sometimes that name scared even you yourself. “And believe me there isn’t a day I didn’t wish I was there back then to stop her. But at the same time… she’s my sister, you know? And she wasn’t always bad… she was a good witch, corrupted by her powers too young,” you turned to Teen. “It’s like having an emo kid, you think it’s just a phase and fun and the next day they’re smoking pot and running around at 1 a.m. playing Batman.”

“You think dark magic is just a phase?” Jen laughs.

“Well who hasn’t ever tried a bit of it, right?” you brush it off with a guilty smile.

“Wow you’re acting like I’m the only one wicked here. I clearly remember you set your ex-boyfriend’s car on fire… with him in it,” Agatha snaps back as she joins your circle.

“Hey, that was your idea! And I was only a 100, you led me to it,” at your response she snorts and gets up again to rather get a walk.

With a sigh you get up off the ground to follow her this time, which wasn’t any hard of a task. Your relationship with Agatha was complicated at the very least, but to you, she was still the only family you had left, even if it was her fault. Gently brushing her clearly tired shoulder she refuses to look at you.

“Agatha… I know I haven’t always been the nicest to you, but you’re my family, I love you. And I want you to know I will always stand by your side, even if I don’t agree with you,” after all you would be a little lost in this world without her.

Giving into your comforting words she turns around embracing you in a tight hug. It was hard being mad at you, after all she was the one who always caused the problems in your relationship. No matter how much you wanted to talk sense into her, she was always selfish and short sighted. As she hugged you, she felt herself finally catching the first break in at least the last five years. You could feel all the trauma and exhaustion from the past few days getting just the littlest bit lighter when you shared it together.

“I miss him so much,” she admitted into your shoulder.

“I know. I miss him too,” you assure her, her lost son clearly being a constant on her mind lately.

“I don’t know if I can save him,” Agatha whispered with vulnerability you didn’t see often.

You thought of something comforting to say. „I know you will try everything you can to get him back,” you kissed her cheek lightly.

Holding onto her, you didn’t feel completely lost in the wide world, and you realized no matter how bad she screwed up, you’ll always be her light, just like she was your torch, hurtful when held too close for too long but helpful, warm and comforting at the same time. You didn’t know if there was any chance her son was still somewhere at least a little alive, but you knew that if there was one parent in the world who would move mountains and rivers to find their child, it was Agatha.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn #fanfiction #fanfic #agatha #agatha all along fanfic #agatha all along spoilers #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn fanfiction #kathryn hahn x you #agatha harkness x sister #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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nikkento-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble.

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. ��There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #jjk smut

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lorelune · 1 year ago

Text

lobotomy commission

|| jing yuan x gn!reader || T || love sick hopefully lovers || wc: 3.9k || ao3 ||

The Xianzhou Alliance has... never allowed lobotomies? Why are you so insistent on receiving one?

(The General, the Divine Foresight.)

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: oh mister general jing yuan you have me so damn heart eyes. here's a lil sweet treat!!!!

CW: fluff, friends to lovers, jing yuan being a bit silly, alcohol consumption, FLUFF, a bit of crack being taken seriously

"Lady Fu, I need to be put down." Your cheek hits the low table. You feel pathetic. It's a Thursday and you're teary-eyed after far too little wine to be in such a state. You sniffle.

"No one is 'putting you down'!" Fu Xuan huffs from the other side, patting your arm. "It's rare that you’re this mopey. What’s troubling you?"

"I am not 'mopey'. I need a lobotomy. Which of the commissions would handle this procedure?"

Lady Fu frowns, clicks her tongue, and sighs your name, “A lobotomy, really?

"Yes, exactly. As soon as possible, preferably.” You down the rest of your cup and restlessly flip your phone screen up.

"This is particularly pathetic. Stop drinking and wallowing and just tell me what's wrong."

"Fu Xuan, you will scold me." You push yourself up on the table and shake your head. "No, actually, you will fire me. You will send me to my office this very instant, force me to pack up my things, and turn in my permissions. I'll be out of a job. Then, I'll be homeless. then—"

"No, nuh-uh, no more dramatics!" Fu Xuan slaps a hand over your mouth. You're glad you’re seated in a private corner of the bar, as this is a rather pathetic display on both of your parts. "Please just tell me, what’s the matter?”

Your dilemma.

"I like the General."

Fu Xuan frowns, expression pinched, and her hand falls heavily onto the table. "That... isn’t exactly new information? Even if it’s a... questionable call of taste, the general is handsome. Occasionally charming when he isn’t being an oaf on purpose. I don’t think having a bit of a crush on the Divine Foresight is anything unusual. Half of the population of the Luofu holds the same opinion.

“Okay, but,” you unlock your phone, a ceramic, cat-shaped charm swinging from the vase as you wobble. “What if the General were to return my feelings? And he invited me for a walk and a meal tomorrow evening?”

Fu Xuan's jaw drops. "You're joking."

"I'm not,” you whine and slide your phone across the table.

...

Divine Foresight 🦁:

Are you free tomorrow evening? I know a terrace that has a splendid view of the overlook near the Cinnabar Eyeline. I would be delighted to take you to it and share a meal after,

Divine Foresight 🦁:

If you'll have me :3c

...

“Oh... wow.” Fu Xuan looks shocked. It’s hard to shock her, but she does tend to avoid divining the destiny of those she is close to (unless entirely necessary.) Her intuition regardless of mathematics and astral geometry is, however, keen. Yet her eyes are wide and she struggles to gather her words. “What a menace.”

“I know.”

“The General is rarely so forward. I’ve never heard of him being so forward.”

“I know.”

“Except, perhaps—”

“With me?” You rub your cheeks. They’re warm from the wine.

“Only you. Though this is particularly... telling. I’m sure it’s sincere.”

“I would agree.” Your stomach flutters, and you swallow the feeling down.

Fu Xuan narrows her eyes and says your name, mouth in a thin line, "You haven't replied."

“And that’s why I need the lobotomy.” You swallow. “I’m going to turn him down.”

“WHAT?!”

You need another drink.

Fu Xuan clearly does not. Her cheeks flush rosy pink as she slaps her hands on the low table. “Why would you reject him? Even if he’s a scoundrel— he is genuine.”

“I know, that’s why I can’t accept his... proposition.”

Despite knowing that Jing Yuan serially denies any potential suitors or daring admirers. You know that it has always been like this— from the time long ago when he first gained rank, to his ‘withered age’ as he self-deprecating refers to himself now. He is always kind about his rejections, you’ve witnessed one or two of them, but he never even entertains the idea of romantic partnership. You’ve never heard him mention it or any desires.

So, for him to so bluntly ask you on a date—

He couldn’t be more clear with his feelings.

“You’re a fool.”

“Now, you’re getting it.” You pour yourself another glass of plum wine. Your shared bottle is nearly empty. “This is why I need the lobotomy.”

Fu Xuan watches you drink your glass in a single go. Her brows are pinched and her arms are crossed. Her shoulders sag a moment later.

“I do believe I understand your reasoning, and I don’t think it’s lobotomy-worthy.”

“... High praise.”

“[Name].”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” You laugh behind your palm. The world feels sticky and bouncy, all at once. You crave the respite of your own bed. “I can’t accept his proposition in the form of a text. I mean, Lady Fu, he's the most powerful man on the Luofu. He is renowned in all fields of battle, strategic, and social graces. He’s kind. He probably like, kisses babies on Sundays at the markets."

"He does not."

"You never know!" You groan. "That's all to say that I won't accept an invitation to a date with this little effort put into it."

"... Because it's a text?"

"Because it's a text." You nod.

Fu Xuan pauses, then sighs.

“I can’t decide if that makes you a fool or not.” Her hair is frizzing up with the humidity. "Perhaps you have a point, the General is old enough to know and have some decorum when going about these things."

"Maybe he's a virgin? But like, for dating."

"I'd have to check... certain records. Archives. To confirm or deny that."

You wilt, “He probably isn’t. I’m being foolish.”

“No, you’re not.” Fu Xuan smooths a hand over your cheek with a frown.

"Lady Fu," you cry and wish you were at home. In bed. Maybe you should block his number. "You're supposed to say, 'You absolutely are, my most beloved junior, I will schedule your lobotomy and—’"

"No more talk of lobotomies, please."

"Fine, fine." you sigh and finish off your final cup as Lady Fu does as well. "Do you think I'm nuts for turning him down?"

"... No, I don't." Fu Xuan looks shy for a moment. A lot more human than her lofty station implies. "I don't doubt that... Jing Yuan has feelings for you. I see how he looks at you. But he ought to romance you a bit. A text is low effort. You should reply regardless though."

"I'm going to, I just needed some courage. And moral support." You give her a soft smile and tap back into your messages. Fu Xuan practically crawls around the table to your side. She leans her head on your shoulders and her eyes droop. You take a heavy inhale, then exhale, attempt to focus your blurry vision and craft.

...

You:

General, though I'm flatered by your offer, I will need to decline. Though I will ackknowledge what I would imagine (and hope)) to be your genun

You:

geuine

You:

gennuie

You:

genuine

You:

feelings, I cannot accept an invitation in the form of a text message. I must be wooed.

You:

lady Fuu says "if you are capable of such things"

You:

pls don't fire her she's a good boss and so nice

You:

[picture from XX/XX/XXXX @ 2:14 AM]

...

The next morning is hell. Hell. You wished you had undergone your requested lobotomy. It certainly feels like someone has stuck metal rods into your brain, with the migraine pounding the back of your eyes. Maybe a hangover this bad is somewhat equivalent to a lobotomy. Your memory of your night prior is... cloudy, to say the least. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you manage to down a glass of water and a handful of peachy-colored pills. You speed walk to the Divination Commission, shooting Fu Xuan an apologetic “sorry, running late, forgive me 🙏" text.

You mentally pat your drunk self on the back. After you sent your... rejection (ouch) to the General, you muted his messages and deleted the thread. No evidence, no way to feel awkward about it sober. And no way to dwell on it either. Besides, you hardly remember what you said to him after your last glass of wine. It’s hazy in your memory.

It was... perhaps a foolish way to go about things. You certainly could have approached the General and talked about it, but he sometimes spoke in circles about matters of the heart. Maybe... maybe you felt too fragile to dance that dance, if it came to that. Maybe, you were a bit overwhelmed by his invitation. You know all too well that he does not let himself be pursued. He does not pursue others.

You feel blind-sided by the whole thing.

But that doesn’t matter— because you cleanly rejected him and your only repercussion is a hangover that you’re sure Fu Xuan is twinning.

And besides, it’s better that you rejected him. He’s of such a high— highest station. He wouldn’t have time for you, surely. You... have gotten used to your entirely and completely platonic, twice-a-month lunch dates and the occasional star chess lesson (where he never lets you win but you swear you'll give him a run for his money.) But it's fine. You can let go of those things, along with your feelings for the General.

It's better this way.

You think these thoughts somewhat confidently until you arrive at the Divination Commission and find a crowd swarming the central platform under the Matrix of Prescience Ultima. Frowning, you try to weave through the edge of it to your office, where you conveniently have a few nutrition shakes stashed away that you most certainly need. You’re already late and this hangover needs to go. You have a full docket for the day that you need to make fuller so you don’t think about—

You nearly stumble when you hear a rich, familiar, roll of laughter. You freeze, slowly turning to the sound. A crown of fluffy hair peaks above the small crowd, a red ribbon waving in the breeze.

Absolutely fucking not.

You duck, just in case, and try to creep below the crowd. You probably look ridiculous, but you absolutely cannot see Jing Yuan. You can’t. Your poorly-thought out, hungover plan of not caring about the General does somewhat heavily rely on not seeing the man. You trip over over your own feet and barely catch yourself so as to not tumble to the ground.

Jing Yuan calls your name and

You freeze before jolting to your full height a moment later. The gaggle of your coworkers part enough so that you’re able to see him— lit so well and handsomely in the morning sun, smiling so easily with... perhaps a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips.

He waves with his free hand, while a massive bouquet is pillowed in the crook of his arm.

The flowers are beautiful— off-ship exotics, clearly. The colors are all bright oranges and vibrant blues. Thinner stems are topped with bundles of white, delicate flowers that break the barrage of colors. They look fresh, like they’d been cut this morning. Fu Xuan stands next to him, clearly hungover herself and close to popping a blood vessel. It’s incredibly rare that the General do anything in the mornings, especially causing a commotion in the Divination Commission.

Jing Yuan, who is more than likely aware of this, looks entirely unbothered. Actually, he glows as he calls your name, gentle and rich, and the sound of it hits you in the chest, “There you are.”

"Here I am." You're not. You need that lobotomy. You nod to him curtly, "General. Is there something I can help you with today?"

Fu Xuan looks like she’s going to expire right there on the platform.

Jing Yuan cocks his head knowingly, “There is, yes. I have a rather personal matter to discuss in private with you. Are you available?”

You have things on your schedule. You can make yourself appear busy, if it means not dealing with the General you can’t really hide from and the beautiful bouquet in his arms. “Well—”

“They’re free.” Fu Xuan all but pushes you toward him. You regret covering her tab the night before. “Especially free, since I’ll be rescheduling our weekly meeting to tomorrow.”

“Is that really necessary—?” You laugh and wring your hands. You feel caught in the worst way. “General, will this personal discussion take much time? I am quite busy today—”

Jing Yuan, who has been watching your exchange with Fu Xuan wordlessly, looks a bit... crestfallen. It’s hard to tell on a man who holds himself like the General, but it’s there. A crease between his brows that’s slight, but visible and abnormal. Maybe he’s holding the bouquet a little tighter than he probably thought. There’s a sheen of sweat on his temple that, if asked, he would probably blame on the heat index for the day.

Your words die in your throat as you take him in and force yourself to meet his gaze. Honeyed and sad, a bit like a kicked dog.

“... I suppose, I could arrange a proper appointment with you. Perhaps it was uncouth of me to expect such accommodations to be made for me last minute. I apologize.” You can hear his tone change. It may be imperceptible to someone else, but you notice the shift in him. Gone is the playful lilt and air of mischief, on his a veneer of niceties that you... had forgotten he loses around you.

Something in your chest aches.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Floundering. Jing Yuan adjusts his hold on the bouquet—

“Enough of this.” Lady Fu shakes her head. She shoos a hand toward the lingering onlookers. “Back to work, now. Don’t eavesdrop either. I’ll know if you do.”

(Debatable, but it’s Fu Xuan’s favorite threat.)

Once the crowd has dispersed, she turns toward you too. You needed that lobotomy, like, yesterday.

“I will make the necessary changes to your schedule so you can speak privately for as long as you need." She points at you, then Jing Yuan. “Sort this.”

The General raises an eyebrow at her. She’s bold to speak in such a way to someone above her own station, but Lady Fu doesn't dare back down. She glares at him, then you, partially covering her mouth to block Jing Yuan’s view before mouthing, “FIX THIS!!!!”

...

On the way to your office, you walk side by side, in silence. You’re trying to think of the right words to say.

“... Are you sure you have time for this, General?” You ask him, softly. “I don’t mean to ask as a slight— just— I don’t want to inconvenience you is all.”

“Of course.” He replies easily. You turn down the long, quiet corridor that leads to your office. It’s tucked away in a corner of the divination Commission, facing outward toward the Arbor’s stump with tall windows providing a sunlit view. You’re glad you don’t have to look at him as you unlock the door with a thick-looking key. “This is a rather pertinent, time-sensitive matter we’re discussing. My own schedule is not consequential in this case. Haste, moreso.”

You laugh under your breath.

“Great Lan, Qingzu is going to kill me.” You sigh before pushing the door open with a shake of your head. Perhaps a smile curls on your lips. Who’s to say. “Did you at least not leave a pile of paperwork for her to delegate in your stead?”

“And what, diminish the time I have for my afternoon nap with busy work?” Jing Yuan laughs. The sound fills you from the bottom up and you want to choke on it. You tear your gaze away from him. “Such a thing would be unhealthy, you know. I’m an old man.”

“An old man who needs an ample amount of beauty sleep.” You tease him, it’s easy to. You speak before you even have a chance to think about the warm nature of your words. The meaning behind the bouquet in his arms that he still hasn’t given to you.

Why Jing Yuan is in your office at all.

“... If this is about my texts my last night—”

“It is, partially.” Jing Yuan hums. “I’m afraid I’ve slighted you, and it’s of the utmost importance I correct my transgression.”

“That’s— That’s not necessary, General.” Your cheeks burn.

“It is. Entirely, in fact. Stating my intentions with you over text messages was... a poor choice on my part. I must apologize appropriately, don’t you think?

“I mean— that’s—” Your words flounder in your mouth. “Kind of you.”

It is kind of him. He certainly doesn’t need to be here, in your cramped office, with a bouquet that costs close to what you make in a day of work. He doesn’t need to be showing a sincere, lovesick smile as he speaks. He’s showing you a card he’s kept close to his chest. One you, perhaps, guessed he had, but hadn’t intended to ever see.

He presents you with the bouquet, “You said you must be wooed, and I am here to begin that process explicitly.”

"... I said what?" You’re going to burst into flames.

“I thought you may not recall your exact words. Did you and Lady Fu have a fun night together?” Jing Yuan chuckles, and you flush so hot you feel almost faint. “You said that I must, and I quote, ‘woo you’.”

He smiles at you, the glint in his eye a bit more mischievous. More knowing. He’s toying with you.

“I— no— I’m so sorry, General.” You cover your face with your hands and back into your desk. “Forget I said that. Please forget I said anything.”

“Please, use my name.” He corrects, gently. “I’d prefer not to forget. You have a point, I should have stated my intentions clearly and to you in person.”

You peek at him between your fingers. He still holds the bouquet out to you, like he’s trying to lure a cagey cat in for a pet rather than make a confession. You feel out of sorts. Off kilter. That said— it is nice to hear him in person. Your heart has been oscillating between fluttering and pounding.

Jing Yuan tilts his head sweetly at you. You take the bouquet from him and examine it closer. There’s yellow and lilac pollen dusted on the filaments, fresh and fragrant.

“Jing Yuan, then.” You reply to him, softly. It’s hardly the first time you’ve called him by his name, rather than a title, but he preens when you speak regardless. “... So, you intend to woo me then?”

“Entirely.” Jing Yuan hums to himself, looking quite proud. “I do fully recant my offer I sent previously. Though I would be happy to lounge with you in the terraces and see some lovely views, I’ve secured a reservation for this evening at a lovely restaurant in the Exalting Sanctum, if you would accompany me.”

Your stomach flips pleasantly. You can’t help the little smile that’s twitching over your lips. You take care to not crush the bouquet in your arms, despite the urge to squeeze it to your chest, just to tamp down the thumping of your heart. Stroking your thumb over the silken petal of lush, round-petaled bloom, you let yourself smile.

You can practically hear Jing Yuan holding his breath. His eyes look hopeful and young.

“I accept,” you reply. “Consider me wooed.”

“It was that easy?” Jing Yuan’s voice takes that air of smugness that you know is a farce but you still can’t help but to approach him and bat your hands at his chest.

“I already like you, you know,” You laugh. “I was more offended that you wouldn’t face me and tell me your intentions. I hardly know the General to be a coward. I was a bit slighted.”

Jing Yuan catches your wrists in one of his hands and gently holds them against your sternum. His fingers lay over the thump of your heart; you wonder if he can feel it. You feel pleasantly woozy when you meet his eyes and all their intensity. Intention.

“I apologize.” He speaks smoothly, easily. Perhaps ducking his head down to be closer to your own. “It’s quite difficult to proposition someone so beautiful and kind.”

“Ah, so the General was hiding behind a screen, then?” You laugh over the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”

Jing Yuan hums, and you pop up on the corner of your desk. He’s close enough to feel the heat of him, and see the threading of his uniform and the glitter woven into the rich fabrics.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with cowardice.” Jing Yuan shakes his head. His breath is warm over your cheeks. “I planned to tell you my intentions of courting you at the Terraces, once you accepted. I, perhaps, was too presumptuous in expecting you to assume beyond my initial ask. I should have been more clear.”

You stifle a laugh and flex your hands, still held in his firm, but kind grip.

“Jing Yuan, if you continue to speak to me so directly, I’ll demand you take me out now and not this evening.”

“Is that so?”

“Entirely.” You struggle to maintain eye contact and not let your gaze drift down to his lips. “I’m not used to you speaking so clearly, only your riddles.”

“What riddles?” He tilts his head, curly, a sweet smile on his face that is far too mischievous for who he is expected to be.

“Oh, you know—”

“Do I?” Jing Yuan asks. He steps between your thighs, the width of him forcing your legs wider. As if your flush could be any more intense. “You must tell me more over lunch. I’ll send a message to Lady Fu and clear your schedule?”

“... She did say to take as long as we need to sort this,” You soften, a bit intimated, if only for a moment. “Is this sorted?”

Jing Yuan hums, “You did say you were wooed. I’d consider that fairly sorted.”

“And you’ll have me?” You ask him, daring to slide your arms over his shoulders. The contact bubbles up months of tension over Star Chess boards (during games that, perhaps, were not entirely platonic).

“I’d be honored.” Jing Yuan’s voice sounds sweet, more quiet than you’ve heard before, like it’s just for you to hear.

There’s an edge to it all still— something raw and new that will need to be tempered. That is the nature of immortality and the relationships and partnerships that come with it. Complexes develop, heal, and grow differently within the self. You’ve already gamed out a few of Jing Yuan’s (a cursed Master who he will only reference in melancholy, unrequited love he was too young for, so many tragedies that he somehow manages to give himself for not preventing). He is perceptive. You’re sure he has put together some of yours as well.

For now, there’s a promise of good things. There’s the feel of him pressing his lips to yours, gentle but unyielding, strung with a mutual yearning that, in retrospect, would’ve been a shame to crush and hide away. There’s the warmth of him so close, and closer still when you drag him closer by the nape of his neck.

You can feel his grin against your lips, and you mirror it easily.

No riddles, only a fragrant bouquet and intention.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #im very in love with him #he is so husband #feeling very soft and yearning about him lately AAAAH #enjoy :''^)

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