#Fires in streets or backyards

[suzoar]

[forthepleasureofmylife]

Backyard N.Y.C.

Photo: Dieter Krehbiel

[lesbiten]

tfw lightning storm so bad the fire department gets called out to your street

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the greatest joys in life is using your shitty old car to shut down a legitimately nice car. For any law enforcement folks reading this, I would never endorse street racing. Also, I think I heard someone shoplifting in the other room, and you should go check it out. The best kind of street racing is the street racing the other person doesn't know they're having.

Now, I've had nice cars in the past before. Once, I had a Mercury Cougar XR7 with most of its original paint. Come to think of it, I might still have it somewhere in the backyard. Hard to keep them all apart these days. Anyway, when you drive a nice car, you get this sort of ego boost every time you see a lesser vehicle. How dare you peasants not realize how inferior your base Corollae are? Only a connoisseur can truly appreciate the divine features of this fine automobile.

That kind of mentality is simply not healthy. All of us, each and every one of us, are just a few generations away from being shit-throwing apes. The fact that we managed to make a machine that gets us down the highway quickly is a total miracle, and it's not any more of one because we put a pretty logo on it and charged $20,000 extra to put precision-engineered butt manipulators in the seats. It is this problem that the very fast beater is meant to solve.

When you have a shitbox and that shitbox goes faster than a nice car, whether because of superior driving (not me) or a significant amount of horsepower (not me) or a lack of understanding of your imminent mortality (possibly me) it is a great feeling to shut down those rich folks tooling around in their "good cars." It knocks them down a peg, which keeps them from doing things like going into work and causing another housing crisis. In fact, I'm going to go out and gap some Porsches with an old rusty fire extinguisher filled with nitrous oxide right now. You should come too, so I can get a ride home after the cops bust me for shooting my engine block across four lanes of the highway.

[wyrm-o-lantern]

Concrete Pavers Landscape

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE OTHER BROTHER

Johnny Miller (Joel’s twin) x f!reader | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re in love with your neighbor Joel but he doesn’t notice you. After another failure to get his attention, someone unexpected offers their help - Joel’s twin brother, Johnny.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, twin au, age gap (Joel and Johnny are in their 30s, reader is in her early 20s), pining, unrequited love, heartbreak, hurt/comfort/hurt/comfort?, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft Johnny, praise kink, size kink, f!oral, breast play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), belly bulge, aftercare, kinda hopeful ending. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a dress.

Word count: 7,6 k

A/n: Kate, are Joel and Tommy not enough for you?! Nope, I need one more Miller bro!! I was inspired by Aly’s/ @iamasaddie post and Mina’s / @evolnoomym comment💕💕 Idk whose edit it is, lmk if you do, so I could send my kudos. That edit did something to me. Hope y’all will like the story!💖 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for betaing💋 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You walked into Joel’s backyard with hope, carrying you on its wings, and excitement, twisting your stomach. A cute summer dress, open sandals, accessories— everything had been planned out and thought over lots of times beforehand. It was your chance to get him to notice you, to finally see you as a woman and not only as his neighbors’ daughter.

You had attended Joel’s barbecues every summer since a few years back when your family had moved on that street. Almost instantly you had fallen in love with your middle aged neighbor Joel. He was handsome, funny, polite, very charming and on top of everything a single parent. Joel seemed to be a wonderful father. You weren’t friends with Sarah, but it wasn’t hard to notice the way they connected. They had that heartwarming father-daughter bond that you and your dad for some reason had never had.

You couldn’t think of anyone else but him. You had thought that leaving for college might have helped but it hadn’t. No one could compare to the perfect Joel Miller. Unfortunately you were just a girl for him. He was always polite and warm but his gaze would always slide over you. You had been crying and yearning for his love for years but it had felt as unreachable as the stars over your head. Unattainable dream.

Thinking that you had nothing to lose, you decided to try your luck once more. You had come back home for a summer break, and after a long time away from your parents you felt mature and confident enough to make Joel notice you. So you stepped into his backyard with a set goal in your mind—to win Joel Miller’s heart.

You found your parents among the other guests and joined them, before searching the backyard for a pair of beautiful brown eyes. Of course Joel was handling the grill. Butterflies in your stomach swirled in excitement, your heartbeat increased but the initial joy of seeing the man of your dreams evaporated instantly, when you noticed that he wasn't alone. His strong arm was wrapped around a waist of a beautiful woman. She was laughing and talking to him, and when Joel leaned down to gently kiss her lips, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What's wrong, honey?"

You tried to control your emotions when you heard your mom's voice but it was next to impossible. Upcoming tears squeezed your throat, your lower lip began trembling.

You shook your head and hastily turned away from the sight that set your butterflies on fire - the love of your life was kissing another woman.

“I’m ok,” you lied. “just something in my eye.”

You tried to cover your tears with your hand, and your mom stepped up closer to you, about to offer help but suddenly you heard a deep voice to your right.

“Hey. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Wetness was coating your eyes, distorting your sight, and you barely glanced at the man, who came up to your parents and you, and mumbled,

“Excuse me... I need…need to use the bathroom.”

You rushed away, your parents calling after you but you didn’t stop. You were full on crying.

You ran through Joel’s kitchen and hall and rushed to your house.

You were walking up the stairs of the porch when you heard someone shout behind you,

“Hey, wait!”

You turned around, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, and what you saw made your jaw drop. Or rather who you saw.

It was Joel. At least you thought so at first. The man looked exactly like your crush but he was dressed differently— Joel whom you had seen five minutes ago was wearing a dark tee while his doppelganger had a plaid green shirt on with a white tee underneath. But the most striking difference was his hair- he had a short buzz cut contrary to Joel’s dark curls. His hair was lighter than his twin’s, just like his eyes.

The stranger came up to you slowly, his expression full of concern and sympathy. You were so flabbergasted that you forgot to hide your reddened eyes and wet face and were staring at the man with your mouth agape.

“I’m Johnny. Joel’s brother. I wanted to make sure ya fine.”

You continued staring at the man, completely lost for words and he talked again,

“I’m his twin brother,” he added, noticing your surprise. “I guess he doesn’t talk much about me, huh?” The stranger smiled as you shook your head.

“Wanna sit down?”

He motioned to the porch bench and you should have probably said ‘no’ and gone to your room to cry your eyes out but a few last minutes were so surreal and emotional that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You nodded. The man followed you there, took a seat at a respectable distance from you, his body turned to you slightly. You were staring at your hands, not sure what to talk about with your new acquaintance.

For a few moments you two were sitting in silence until you remembered the way Joel had been looking at the woman and a pathetic sob crawled up your throat.

“I don’t like her either,” Johnny said and your teary eyes snapped up at him.

“Hm?”

“His new girl. Too bossy. I’m not a fan.”

“I -I don’t… ’don’t like her’. I don’t know her at all,” you croaked.

“Yeah, but you like him, right?”

Your stomach dropped and you faked an awkward laugh, shaking your head.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Quit lyin’, girl. I’m not dumb. I saw you waltz in there with a happy smile and then when you saw them...Damn, poor thing. Unless you’re in love with her but—,” he chuckled and you hastily shook your head again, waving your hands in protest.

“I don’t love him, oh my god!”

“Ok, ok. Keep denyin’ it. You can watch him get married and have a bunch of kids then.”

When you heard his words your heart froze and, not being able to hide your feelings, you broke into tears, covering your face with your hands.

“Fuck.” The man immediately scooted closer to you and placed his arm around your shoulders.

“’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been harsh. Maybe I’m a fool and you just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“No, no, you’re right. I do! I do love him,” you confessed in between sobs.

For a few moments you were crying and Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big hand until he spoke softly,

“You seem like a nice girl. Beautiful, sweet. Have you tried makin‘ him interested?”

You raised your teary eyes at the man and for some weird reason you admitted to him that you had fallen in love with Joel a long time ago but he had never noticed you.

“My brother sounds like an idiot. Look at you. You’re hot, baby.”

You smiled and dropped your eyes.

“And your smile is fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You felt warmth spread in your belly when the man put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

You looked at him attentively, taking in every feature of his familiar yet novice face, and noticed that he was as handsome as Joel. His skin was more tan and his eyes were lighter, a mixture of hazel and green, and your heart fluttered at his beauty.

“Do you wanna get ‘im?”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Get him?”

“Yeah. First you need to make him notice you.”

“But he has a girlfriend,” you mumbled with defeat ringing in your words.

“So? She ain’t his wife. He can dump her whenever.”

You were quiet.

“Listen. I can get you into this house. Into his life. He’ll see you often and I bet he’ll notice the fuck out of such a hottie.”

You felt your cheeks heat up when you glanced at him and asked,

“How would you do that?”

The man winked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Let’s pretend that you and I are going out.”

You giggled, thinking it was a joke, but Johnny kept talking and you realized that he was absolutely serious.

“I’m stayin’ with him right now. We’ll spend a lot of time in his house. He’ll notice you and then fall in love with you in no time.”

“I’m not sure he will. I’m too shy,” you admitted.

“He loves shy girls. And even if you ain’t very talkative. Damn, look at you. You’re hot. And I’ll wingman the fuck out of you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Brothers share everything. Like, “Bro, yesterday she rocked my world. Her mouth’s heaven. And then she rode me! Damn, she’s the best I ever had. See?”

You were blinking at him with an open mouth and burning up cheeks. When you heard his filthy words you couldn’t help but gush into your panties. Johnny didn’t seem to hold back.

“He’ll be hard over you immediately.”

You furrowed your brows and asked,

“But isn’t there a bro code or something? that you can’t date your brothers’ ex girlfriends?”

“Nah, we don’t follow that.” Johnny waved away your concerns with his big hand. “We dated the same girls all the time in school. What’s good for me’s good for him, right?”

You didn’t know what to think. Johnny's idea was crazy but all of his arguments made a lot of sense. And you were desperate.

“Ok. We can try I guess,” you said, nervously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Fuck yeah we can!”

He gave you a charming smile and you smiled back, feeling a little better.

“But my parents can’t know, ok? I’ll tell them I’m with friends.”

“No problem. It’s fake anyway so no reason to make ‘em worry. But—,” he paused, his expression turning serious, — If we want it to work, we need to spend time together beforehand. It’ll help you to get comfortable around me, yeah? to make it believable.”

You nodded, trying to understand what he meant by ‘spend time’.

“Wanna do it now? Let’s hang out in your room. For some time.”

“Aren’t they gonna look for you?” You asked, glancing back at Joel’s house.

“I’m a big boy, baby, I don’t need to tell anyone where I’m goin’.” Johnny replied with a wink.

“Oh yeah, right.”

You got up and headed to the door. Your accomplice followed you, and when you were walking upstairs, you turned to him.

“Johnny, if my parents come early, they can’t see you ok?”

“No problem, I’ll hide in a closet,” he chuckled and gave you another wink.

When you entered your bedroom, Johnny looked around and took his flannel off. He was standing in the middle of your room, white tee stretched over his broad chest, his muscles bulging out of the short sleeves. He rolled them up, exposing more of his arms, and you swallowed loudly. He was bigger than Joel and in your small room he looked so huge and tall, that you felt your core burn.

“Cosy,” Johnny said, walking to your bed and plopped on it unceremoniously. He leaned his back against the headboard, his booted feet hanging off the edge. You were staring at him awkwardly, not knowing if you should sit next to him. Getting on the bed with practically a stranger was not something you could do easily.

So you sat down on a chair by your desk.

"Nah-uh. Get over ‘ere, bunny." He shook his head and patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Ehm... I don't know."

"Jesus, I don't bite. You need to get used to bein’ close to me. Joel isn't stupid. He'll sense that something's fishy if you're skittish like that."

You couldn't deny that he was right. So you came up to the other side of the bed and settled next to him.

"Wanna tell me a bit about yourself, beautiful?" he asked, flashing you a charming smile.

You felt your cheeks burn but after a moment of hesitation, you began telling him about your hobbies, your friends and your plans after graduation. He didn't interrupt you. He asked a few questions but mostly he was just nodding, listening to you attentively. A few times his gaze slid down to your lips, your cleavage, your naked legs, crossed at the ankles.

His eyes were leaving a pleasant heat in their wake until your whole body lit up and a constant warmth settled between your legs. Your pussy was tingling only from you being next to your new acquaintance, hearing his scent, masculine and enticing, seeing him smile at your words. His hazel eyes were getting darker the longer you talked, the more he looked at you.

“What about you, Johnny? What do you do?” You asked, wishing to learn more about the man you were about to fake date.

He averted his eyes and rubbed his scruffy cheek.

”It’s complicated, baby. I’d tell you if you were my girlfriend. For real I mean. But —.” He looked at you with an apologetic smile.

“Oh,” is all you could say in return, blinking at him.

“I can tell you that I travel a lot. ‘s prolly why we’ve never met. I can’t often visit Joel and Sarah.”

It got silent in the room for a moment except for the sound of birds’ chirping, coming through an open window.

“Do you wanna watch something?“ you asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Yeah, ‘k.” Johnny took his boots off and placed his feet on the bed. You marveled at how quickly he seemed to get comfortable but decided that he was just that easy-going.

You took your laptop and asked what he wanted to watch.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment and your chest fluttered.

”We can watch The Office. It always relaxes me.”

“Yeah, I really wanna see you relaxed, bunny,” he smirked and you stuck your tongue out at him.

A few minutes later you were on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching a random episode of the Office that you put on.

Soon Johnny slid down the bedspread and placed his head on your pillow.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you down with him.

You didn’t know how and why you let him but soon his hand was wrapped around your shoulder and your head was resting on his broad chest.

He was warm and big and you felt your panties dampen more.

“I like that guy,” he commented after some time of watching.

“Ryan? He’s kind of a douche,” you giggled.

“Really?” Johnny hummed.

You continued watching the show, sometimes chuckling from time to time. Once Johnny absentmindedly bucked his hips up and your gaze involuntarily landed on a prominent bulge in his jeans. And then a few times on purpose.

Getting too turned on, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down the fire in your core. Unfortunately it got worse as without your eyesight your whole being concentrated on the strong arm resting heavily on you, on Johnny's scent, his steady, deep breathing.

“Baby?”

Johnny’s voice took you out of your horny trance and you hummed feeling your cheeks burn.

“Can you tell me something?”

“Yes?”

He sat up and you did the same, looking at him with confusion, trying to hide your arousal.

“Can you close your eyes and tell me if my voice is similar to Joel’s? People always answer differently. I wanna know what you think.”

You raised your brows.

“I can tell you right now. It’s similar. Very.”

“No, close your eyes, listen to it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and did what he asked, a little smile dancing on your lips.

“Hey, baby. You're very beautiful.” You smiled wider when you heard his gruff voice, squealing inside at the compliment.

”Thank you, Joel,” you laughed and added, “You sound just like him.” You opened your eyes but Johnny shook his head, motioning for you to shut them again. You did and heard the man sigh deeply.

“Ya know. I’ve been such a fool. I didn’t notice you before but now I see. How gorgeous you are. Crazy hot.”

Your smile vanished as you were listening to him, eyes closed, chewing on your lip. You had dreamed of hearing those words for such a long time that your heart could burst out of your chest at the moment.

“You have a girlfriend, Joel,” you whispered, playing along.

”She’s a mistake. Wish you could forgive me for not tellin’ you all this sooner… Wish I could rip this pretty dress off you and make you scream my name right now.”

Your breath hitched and a new surge of wetness made you squirm in your place.

“Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You instinctively wetted your lips, hearing his words, and the next second Johnny pressed his mouth to yours. You tensed up at first but in a second your body melted at the soft touch. Not opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly to the side and parted your lips, inviting him in. Immediately Johnny’s tongue slipped inside and brushed yours, gently at first but then more assertively. He was swallowing your pleasured whimpers again and again as you were making out.

”Johnny, I can’t,” you murmured, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

You glanced at him and his expression took your breath away. He looked like he was ready to pounce on you any second. His eyes were burning with desire, lips glistened with your saliva and his broad chest was heaving, dangerously close to ripping his tee.

He visibly tried to calm himself down— he took a deep breath and then placed your hand between his.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.” His expression softened as his eyes were locked with yours.

“No, don’t be. It was nice but … but…”

You struggled to continue, the words got stuck in your throat.

Johnny’s eyes were darting between yours, as he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

Then you whispered, your voice barely audible, gaze downcast, “I’m a virgin.”

You expected any reaction but not the one he gave you.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes snapped up at him and tears immediately welled up in your eyes. Johnny looked straight up disappointed. He pulled away from you and your sob broke the icy silence in the room. You were always terrified to admit it to people, especially to men, and at that moment your worst nightmare was coming true.

“‘s bad,” Johnny mumbled, still not looking at you. “Shit.”

You were hurt but your pain quickly turned into anger.

“Please leave!”

As if finally having noticed your distress, Johnny turned to you, shaking his head.

“Oh fuck, no, no, I don’t mind. Shit. I think— it’s great—for whatever reason you—no. It’s Joel, baby.”

“What? What about Joel?” you asked, feeling a little better, when he took your hands in his and answered,

”He’s not a fan of virgins. Never was. He told me many times he didn’t want the responsibility of bein’ someone’s first.”

“Why?” You felt your heart shuttering again.

“Don’t know,” Johnny shrugged, ”I guess he prefers someone more experienced. Once he broke up with a girl when he found out she was a virgin.”

Now it was your turn to curse.

“Fuck.” You probably looked absolutely defeated and Johnny rapidly wrapped his arm around you to pull you to his torso.

You started silently crying on his shoulder, having realized that Joel would never love you, would never even give you a chance.

Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big warm hand while you were soaking his white tee with tears, until he said,

“You know, it’s not a big deal.”

You sniffed and sat up straight.

“What do you mean not a big deal?” your voice was shaky and small. “You’ve just said he hates virgins.”

Johnny lifted his hand to wipe your wet face with his thick fingers.

“Kinda easy to lose it, beautiful. Your v card.”

“No, it’s not. I wanted Joel to— to do it. I don’t want anyone else.”

You were pouting your lips, eyes reddened and teary staring at the man sitting close to you. In your blurry vision he looked even more like Joel.

”I can help you, bunny,” Johnny offered with a lopsided smile. He tilted his head to the side and waited for your reaction.

You swallowed loudly when you heard him and turned away. You couldn’t deny that Johnny was hot, your soaked panties were a good evidence of your desire for him but how could you do it with a man you had just met. Who wasn’t Joel.

Joel who had a girlfriend.

Joel who didn’t want to deal with virgins.

Joel who never noticed you.

You looked back at the twin brother of the man you loved and asked,

“Would you really do it for me?”

Johnny cleared his throat.

“Ehm… yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re hot,” he said it so matter of fact-ly that it sounded sincere and you believed that he really wanted to help.

“Ok, good,” you said, with an air of uncertainty. “We can try but maybe not today, ok? We’ve just met,” you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Johnny smirked and then quickly added, “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

Not looking at the man you nodded.

“Want me to do it again?”

His question made your heart skip a beat. You had felt amazing when he had kissed you, your body reacted to him in a wonderful way and, after glancing up at his plush lips, you nodded the second time.

Johnny gently cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His lips began caressing yours, your tongues tangled and, not breaking the kiss, you scooted closer to him on the bed. He read your intentions and pulled you into his big strong arms. His hand snaked up to the back of your head, the other was pressed to your lower back, keeping you close, as you were tasting him, feeling his heart thump against your chest. You were floating.

Soon his mouth slithered to your jaw and he nibbled on your skin there while his hands began roaming your body, gliding over your back, your arms until he squeezed your ass with his palms and you moaned into his mouth.

“Oh, baby, ya fuckin’ hot,” he groaned and you felt his lips suck a hickey into your neck while his hand snaked under your skirt. He engulfed your whole asscheek with his palm and your thin lacy panties easily let the heat of his skin seep through. You whimpered when the pads of his fingers glided down to your clothed pussy. Just one touch was enough for your brain to panic and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry, Johnny, it’s too much.”

You wanted to get off the bed, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but he grabbed you by the hand.

“Don’t leave. Please. Sorry, bunny. I went in too fast.“

You sat down on your heels, catching your breath and trying to calm down your foggy mind and burning up body.

“Let’s cuddle. C’mon. Jus’ wanna hold you.”

He returned your laptop to your desk and lay down on the bed that now seemed too small for his huge body. It made the whole situation even hotter.

A fear of the unknown and an immense desire were fighting in your heart, and you let the latter win, assuring yourself that you were just going to get used to him hugging you, so you could get close to Joel later.

That’s why you let him wrap his strong arms around you, let his face be inches from yours, let his hot breath fan your lips, let his scent intoxicate you. You were lying in his embrace for just a few moments before his lips found yours, and you didn’t fight it anymore, you welcomed their warmth.

He was more careful that time, slowly pulling you close to his body, but his hands didn’t wander. What was making you melt was his quiet words, seeping into your ears between kisses, barely audible through your soft whimpers, smacking of the lips and his breathing.

“Ya taste like honey—beautiful girl—Joel’s fuckin’ lucky—so pretty—could eat you whole, baby.”

Contrary to him, you were getting bolder and sent your hands roam his broad back, squeeze his masculine arms, glide over the slopes of his shoulders and then run through his short hair that pleasantly tickled your palms.

It was a matter of time before he slowly pushed you on your back and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving him more access and he happily growled against your heated skin.

“Good girl,” you heard his praise and the ache of your pussy made you press your thighs together.

“Oh, Joe…Johnny,” you started and then hastily corrected yourself.

Johnny stopped nibbling on your collarbone and your heart froze, expecting him to get angry, but the man smiled at you.

“You can call me Joel, beautiful… to practice, yeah? Soon he’s gonna be the one kissin’ you.”

The suggestion sounded insane but in your aroused, overwhelmed with feelings state you let yourself imagine the man you loved caressing you with his lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and it was so easy to fantasize about Joel’s hand holding your hip and pressing you into the mattress, Joel’s lips peppering kisses along your neck and then going down, reaching the plush of your cleavage. Drowning in your fantasy you missed the moment Johnny’s chin pushed your neckline down, exposing more of your breasts. You rubbed your thighs against each other, chasing pressure on your tingling pussy, as his palm started kneading your tit over the fabric.

“Yeah, Joel,” you breathed out and didn’t stop yourself that time, fully succumbing to the want of your heart and body.

Your mind turned off completely, you were so gone in pleasure, that when you finally opened your eyes, to your surprise you saw Johnny’s hot tongue swirl around your pebbled nipple. A loud moan flew out of your parted lips as your hazy gaze took in the sight of your dress and bra pulled down and the man caressing your nipples, alternating between sucking and licking them, while your naked chest was heaving under his ministrations.

With his mouth almost engulfing your whole breast, Johnny glanced up at you and his blown out lustful eyes sent another bolt of arousal through your core.

“Johnny, please,” was all you could muster. He hummed into your tit before parting from it and searching for your glossy eyes.

“Do you like it when I do this?” He asked, his breath hitting your saliva coated skin, your nipples as hard as diamonds now. You mumbled a weak ’yeah’..

“Good. And have you ever had your pussy kissed, beautiful?”

You bit your lip, almost reaching your high just from hearing the question.

“No,” you whispered back and Johnny shot you a mysterious smile.

“Can I be the first, baby?”

“I— I don’t know,” you said hesitantly.

“C’mon, bunny. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna feel real good?”

The act seemed to you so intimate and vulnerable, just an idea of it made you anxious.

“Lil scared bunny,” he smiled and then wrapped his fingers around your naked breast, holding it in his hand. “Look.”

A second later his lips brushed your nipple again, his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Imagine the nipple is your little clit. I’ll jus’ lick it like that.”

His tongue stroked it, covering the sensitive bud in his saliva.

“Then I’ll suck on it like this.”

Johnny took it into his mouth and applied gentle suction to it.

“I’ll make you come so hard like that. It’s just another type of kissing, baby.”

You’ve never been turned on more than at that moment so after a few moments of consideration you shoved your fears away and whimpered,

“Ok.”

“Good girl.”

You hole clenched when you heard his praise. Johnny pulled the hem of his tee up and took it off.

Your breath hitched when you saw his strong chest and soft belly with a happy trail that led under his jeans. Johnny casually glided his hand over his strong torso and you bit your lip, not letting out another needy whimper.

“‘s getting too hot,” he mumbled and lay down between your thighs. His legs were hanging off the bed and you marveled at the muscles, flexing in his back and shoulders. You wondered if Joel’s body was as gorgeous as his twin brother’s. Of course it was, you thought.

The dress was still covering you and after a nod from you, Johnny lifted your skirt. Your hips flew up as if by themselves when he started sliding your panties off.

”Fuck, baby, this is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” his soft voice praised you as you were lying in front of him, almost naked and trembling with nerves.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“Can’t wait to taste you.”

He spread your folds with his index finger and a thumb while his shoulders were keeping your thighs wider apart. Your pussy opened up to him like an offering.

“Pretty flower,” he commented and immediately did what he’d promised.

He licked your hardened clit, drawing a pathetic moan from you, and then lapped at it a few times. The sensations you were feeling were incomparable to anything you’d ever experienced. Your hand darted to your naked breasts and you began twitching your nipples.

“Fuck, yeah,” he mumbled against your sex and the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

Johnny smiled, having noticed your reaction, and began sucking on your bud, massaging it between his lips.

“Ahhh—oh my god—oh yeah,” was all you could mutter. When you were on the brink of ecstasy, his tongue slid down and snuck into your virginal hole. He began fucking you with it, spreading your walls with his flattened tongue and your needy screams, moans and whimpers filled the bedroom. You were sure that if someone was passing by your house, they’d hear the sounds of your pleasure but your mind was switched off, only the bliss between your legs and the man giving it to you mattered at that moment.

You tried to grab his hair but it was too short to hold on to so your palm pressed onto the back of his head as you were greedily holding Johnny's mouth against your pussy.

“Fuckin’ delicious. Can’t believe I’m first.”

With your glossed over gaze you watched him return his tongue to your throbbing clit and stroke it a few times, until your eyes rolled back and a hard orgasm exploded like fireworks inside your core, sending hot waves of euphoria through your body.

Johnny didn’t stop lapping at you until you tried to close your legs, the ache of overstimulation burning you.

He sat up and wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand, the other hand splayed over your thigh, gently rubbing it.

“Look at you, beautiful. Came hard for me, huh? Jus’ like I promised.”

He smiled at you, visibly pleased with your almost drunk post-orgasmic state. Your tits were out and slightly pushed up by the neckline, nipples puffy from his and your caress, your summer dress bunched up around your waist, your glistening pussy fully on display.

While your eyes were admiring the beauty of his features, so similar to Joel’s, you failed to notice his hands unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

Your gaze darted to the lower part of his body when you spotted a movement there— his hard cock bobbing over your naked cunt.

It was long, quite thick, with a fat tip that was oozing clear precum. He stroked the shaft a couple of times with his big hand and grunted, “ya wanna make me feel good too, baby?”

As if by an instinct your thighs opened up wider, inviting him inside you, your mind clouded by lust.

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Nah, baby, call me Joel,” he gruffed as he bent down, planted his hands on the bed, next to your shoulders and added, ”I know you wanna. And I ain’t against role playing.”

“Really?”

“Sure, bunny.”

It was wrong. And so hot at the same time. You giggled, sound strained by the nerves, twisting your stomach. He was big and you had never imagined your first time happening with a man you’d just met. Yet your pussy was screaming to be pierced with a cock. His cock. You’d never been turned on that much in your life and you gave in to the temptation without a second thought.

His lips found yours at the same time his tip nudged your hole, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the head of his cock pushed assertively into you.

He swallowed your whine and paused, hovering over your face, your eyes locked.

“Shit, ya tight. But we can do it, yeah, bunny?”

”It hurts, Johnny.”

“Shhh, not Johnny, remember? C’mon, it’ll help you relax.”

“Joel.”

“Yeah, good girl.”

As if the name of the man you loved was magical, you walls relaxed a little, letting in a few inches of his brother’s manhood.

Johnny planted a light kiss on your lips and you felt his thumb graze your clit before he began gently rubbing it.

“Close your eyes, beautiful, let my cock taste your sweet cunt.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moaned, fully lost in the fantasy, and squeezed your eyelids shut.

“Now breathe. Big breaths, bunny.”

He was whispering praise into your ear, distracting you from the dull pain of the stretch, slowly pushing his length in while his thumb was swirling around your clit.

“Like that, beautiful—yeah, tight little cunt— the tip’s in—good, so good—a little more, baby—my good girl—fuck, it’s almost in—-YEAHHH..”

His triumphant growl mixed with your loud moan when his balls hit your ass and you felt full like never before.

As soon as he sheathed his manhood inside your warm tight cunt, your lips locked, and while your tongues were sliding against each other, you were trying to get used to the feeling of something so long and thick stuffed inside you.

Your walls soon accommodated his cock and the pain slowly dissipated, giving way to pleasure.

“Ima be gentle, baby,” Johnny promised, after breaking the kiss, and languidly rolled his hips into yours. The sensation of his big member moving inside your tight channel made you tilt your head back into the pillow and open your lips in a silent moan.

He didn’t lie. With one hand planted on the bed, the other playing with your clit, he was sliding his cock in and out of your sopping pussy, slowly but surely bringing you closer to the peak. Your greedy hands danced over the slopes of his strong chest, fingers digging into his biceps, nails leaving white marks on his tan skin.

“Yes, Joel—please—so good, Joel,” you were whispering, letting your broken heart believe that the man you had always dreamed about was between your legs at that moment.

Johnny’s greedy eyes couldn’t get enough of you- your lustful expression, your tits bouncing with each thrust, your folds, spread around his base.

“Ya have the wettest pussy, baby. Soakin’ me so good. Look at all that cream.”

With hazy eyes you watched him swipe his thumb over the base of his cock, coated in your pearly juices, and bring it to his lips. He took the finger in his mouth and hummed in pleasure.

Your tongue slid over your lower lip and, taking it as an invitation, Johnny kissed you, sharing the taste of your desire.

You were melting under his unhurried thrusts, but your core needed more and, too shy to ask for it, you began meeting his hips halfway, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

“Mmm, bunny wants more?” Johnny smirked into a corner of your lips.

“Yes, Joh—Joel, please.”

“Of course, beautiful. Let’s make this sweet pussy scream.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he sat up and pulled your hips to himself. You slid one the bed with a gasp and he chuckled before thrusting in harder.

His tip hit your cervix and you grasped the sheets with a moan.

“Hurts, baby?”

“A little.”

He shook his head, grabbed a spare pillow and, after lifting your hips, placed it under your ass.

“Now?” he asked as he pulled his cock out to the tip and then shoved it back inside.

You whimpered when his cock kissed something delicious inside you and the sensation made you clench around his stiff member.

“Like that, yes, yes,” you mumbled, sounding drunk, eyes set on the place where you were joined.

Johnny smiled and rolled his hips again, the stroke hard and deep, and then again and again until he was rutting into you while you were turning into a whimpering, cock-dumb mess.

When he tilted his hips up and drilled his manhood into your cunt, you both saw a bulge appear in your belly and you gasped at the sight. You’d never seen anything like it.

Not stopping, Johnny placed his palm over the lump and tilted his head, watching and feeling his cock move under your skin.

“Fuck, ‘s hot.” He looked mesmerized. “You’re hot, bunny. Shit, gonna come soon. Do it with me.”

His thumb continued dancing on your clit and it took just a few strokes for you to explode. Your pulsating pussy was flattering around his manhood, nerves ablaze, while your juices flooded him inside your core, soaking his hot, soft skin, stretched over his throbbing cock. It was the hardest, most pleasant orgasm of your life and the warmth between your legs spread out, filling your heart with gratitude and affection.

Johnny was unaware of your inner feelings, and as soon as your pussy relaxed around him, he pulled his cock out and after a couple of pumps, started painting your pussy and belly with pearly white ropes of his thick cum.

You watched his balls draw up, his slit push out the load like you’d never seen anything more beautiful. Endorphins in your blood made you feel like you were floating, your limbs pleasantly tingling, and when your eyes met, you gave Johnny a tired, satisfied smile.

He answered it with his lopsided one and plopped on the bed next to you. You were catching your breath for some time until he tucked his softening cock into his jeans, got up and went to the bathroom.

You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle and, when he returned, he helped you to clean up with a wet towel.

“I reckon you ain’t on the pill,” he mumbled, wiping the cum off your skin.

“No. I will be,” you said, glancing up at him but his eyes were set on the task.

When he was done, you reached for him.

“Wanna cuddle?”

To your disappointment Johnny shook his head, and grabbed his tee off the floor.

“Need to go, bunny. I have a thing.”

You sat up, fixing your wrinkled dress, covering yourself up.

“Ok.” Your voice, small and sad, made him pause and he stepped up to the bed and bent down, reaching for you.

His hand cupped your heated cheek and he kissed you before speaking.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. At Joel’s.”

You beamed at him, nodding eagerly.

Before leaving he wrote his number on a note and gave you a wink.

“Wear something hot for Joel. And for me.”

You barely slept that night— the memory of your first sex was playing on a loop in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt Johnny’s hands on your body, his cock stretching you, and your pussy ached for him again. You made yourself come twice with your fingers and when the sun was already breaking through the inky sky, only then you fell asleep.

The next day you woke up early and texted Johnny ‘good morning’. He didn’t reply and you thought he must be still sleeping. So you busied yourself with preparations for the dinner— choosing the clothes to wear, makeup, accessories. You wanted to look casual but hot like Johnny had asked you. You decided on a pair of tight jeans and a sexy top and went to the kitchen.

You lied to your parents that in the evening you were meeting a friend. Like always after any party your mom was spilling out all the gossip she’d gathered the day before. Both you and your dad just hummed here and there, not really interested in the boring rumors but suddenly your ears perked up when she mentioned Joel’s twin brother.

”I can’t believe that man. No shame at all.”

She noticed that she finally had your active attention and her eyes lit up.

“What’s wrong with Johnny?” you asked, while fear was creeping up in your chest.

“He’s such a deadbeat brother. Poor Joel.”

It seemed like you stopped breathing altogether, listening to your mother talk about the man who had taken your virginity the day before. She continued,

“Johnny visits him once a year, borrows money and vanishes until the next time he needs it. Joel’s a single father! Working man! And that leach uses his kindness and generosity. Ugh!”

“How do you know all that?” you asked, grasping at the last straw of hope that it was a lie, misunderstanding, baseless rumour.

“Dear, everyone knows that,” your mother laughed and started talking about the other neighbor who had told her and you didn’t hear her anymore. Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

You excused yourself and ran to your room.

‘He vanishes’—the words of your mother were ringing in your head, your stomach being twisted by nerves.

You plopped on your bed and called Johnny. He didn’t pick up. You decided to wait. 5 min later you called him again. Nothing.

In three hours you were a nervous mess. You had cried several times, had sent dozens of messages that were unanswered and unread, had called him more times that you wished to admit but hadn’t heard his voice once.

That phone number was the only thing that he had left you, yet you realized that there was another option.

You put on the clothes you’d prepared for the dinner, rinsed your face off your tears as well as you could and headed to Joel’s.

When you knocked on the door, you feared that no one would answer. The uncertainty was suffocating you and your breathing was heavy. All you wished for was to get answers - did the man who had taken your virginity lie to you? Did he use you like a fuck toy and vanished? Was his attention to you just a means to get into your panties?

You were chewing nervously on your lower lip when Joel opened the door. For a second you thought it was Johnny, so much they looked alike but a little ray of hope dissipated when you saw the man’s soft curls.

”Hey, sweetheart,” Joel greeted you, visibly confused by your visit.

You cleared your throat and mumbled,

“Hello. Could I see Johnny?”

Joel opened his mouth and closed it before mumbling,

“Fuck.”

Your heart fell in your stomach when you saw him pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

“Sweetheart. Excuse me but— Was he with you yesterday?”

You nodded and he cursed again.

“He told me— he—,” Joel paused, his expression sad and apologetic. ”I’m so sorry, sweetie, but he left this morning. I don’t know what he told you but—.”

He shook his head, looking physically pained to be telling you that.

When all your fears were proven right, you couldn’t keep your despair inside anymore. Tears burst out of your eyes as you were nodding at Joel’s words like everything was alright. Like you weren’t hurt. The tears flowed so much that you barely could see Joel through the wetness in your eyes.

Joel placed his warm hand on your shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, come inside.”

When you asked Joel about Johnny, he immediately understood that you were the girl he had slept with the previous night. Johnny had bragged about fucking the hottest chick in the neighborhood.

Joel couldn’t believe it had been you, so shy and sweet, he’d never expected Johnny to get his hands on someone so pure and lovely.

He felt horrible for letting his vagabond brother into his home again, and subsequently into your life. When you were sitting in his kitchen, crying quietly, he wanted to comfort you so badly his heart hurt. He placed a hot cup of tea in front of you and you thanked him between sobs. A pang of guilt shot through his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, stepping up to you. He took your hands in his and when you lifted your face and gave him a little smile, your gorgeous eyes full of tears, Joel felt something stir in his heart. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. It made his breath hitch for a moment.

Even with your face streaked with tears you were so damn beautiful.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed how beautiful you were?

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[crookedteethed]

HE'S my thing | r.c.

Pairing: (older) Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader

Summary: You ended things with your best friend's father, but does anything ever truly end?

Warnings: 18+ Semi-public sex (p in v), cursing, cheating in the next room, age gap, Fuckboy!Rafe, angst, usage of "little girl" and 'brat', manhandling, choking

A/N: Barely proofread. Also, thank you for all the love and support on part one!!

Part One

Word Count: 2.8k

"Fuck, Marry, Kill: Mr. Thornton, Mr. Kelce, or Mr. Barry." Maribella had asked you.

You pulled your tanning reflector away from your face to look at your potential candidates.

You and Marble were sunbathing by the pool at Tanny Hill when suddenly, guests began to slowly appear. Then someone started playing music from the speakers, the backyard string lights turned on, and suddenly the grill started crackling with fire.

"Daddy must be throwing one of his summer barbeques." Maribella had hummed.

You observed the three older men, all wearing colorful floral swim trunks, reminiscing about the "good old days" before they had children and wives, unaware that you and Maribella were sizing them up.

Fuck, Marry, Kill.

It was a simple question-and-answer game that you and Maribella often played when you were bored with strangers on the street or celebrity men whom you'd fancy, never with the men in your actual lives.

"Let's see." you elongated. "I'd fuck Mr. Barry, Marry Mr. Thornton, and Kill Mr. Kelce."

"Ouch." Maribella laughs.

"Sorry, Kelce." You shrugged, laughing along with your friend. "What about you?" You asked.

Like you, Maribella paused to observe the men, thus concluding: "None of them. They're all old and have beer belly's." �� 

"Then why'd you ask me?" you said in disbelief.

"Because." She said snobbishly, "I was testing you. Y'know, it's unhealthy for young girls to be attracted to such old men? Unhealthy."

You rolled your eyes, bringing your tanning reflector back to your face.

Ever since you'd told Maribella that you'd slept with her father, Mr. Cameron, she'd been subtly throwing slick remarks on her disdain for your taste in older men. 

Though she claimed she wasn't upset about you sleeping with Mr. Cameron, you can still sense her animosity toward the situation, which is why you never responded when she made a snide remark.

"Oh, look, it's my dad and his latest bitch he'd gotten from the pound." Maribella snide, and in a timely manner you watched as Rafe and his latest "Bitch" walked through the sliding patio doors.

Rafe had one of those cocky ass grins on his face, the one he would flash to you after cumming deeply inside you without wearing a condom, or the type of snarky grin he would show after whispering something promiscuous in your ear.

The bitch--woman who'd he been talking to appeared to be roughly around his age--maybe a little older, blond, and gangling looking. If you hadn't known The Camerons for so long, you would have assumed this woman was Rafe's wife and Maribella's mother.

You scoffed. "God, I thought there was an age limited when it came to being a slut." you laughed, causing Maribella to laugh along with you.

The woman also laughs, but it's because of something Rafe had whispered in her ear. The tint of your sunglasses had blurred the exact movement of Rafe's plush lips, but you assume he said something along the lines of sweet nothings from Rafe Cameron.

Surely, Maribella hadn't known that you ended things with her father just over a week ago, so she hadn't known just how furious you'd been to see Rafe with another woman. 

So quickly, just like that, he'd forgotten about you, just like you hadn't been the "tightest cunt" he claimed to ever be in. And not to mention, he hadn't even looked at you or glanced your way since the barbecue began. 

"I'm going to be sick." You said.

"You too?" Maribella asked.

You got up from your lounge chair with no plan in mind; you didn't even know where you were going until you found yourself staring angrily at Rafe in front of the grill. 

He'd been flipping over a barbecue rib with a pair of tongs, the blond woman clinging to his back with her chin laying on his shoulders and her arms wrapped around his body.

Yuck. 

Rafe had been wearing one of those comical aprons. His had an image of an animated woman with a coke bottle figure. Though it looked ridiculous on him, you couldn't help but keep staring at his biceps that poked out from the side of the apron, and of course, he'd been in a muscle tee so that you could see just a bit of his nipple peeking to the public, fuck.

"Oh, baby, is this your daughter you told me so much about?" The woman had smiled at you.

You scoff.

It was condescending in how the woman had addressed you; it was how she had called Rafe baby; she'd said it like they'd been together for years. 

And it was how effortlessly beautiful she was. She looked like the type of woman Rafe would go for, prose and expensive-looking. 

It was also how she'd mistaken you for Rafe's daughter rather than for what you were: the tightest cunt Rafe had ever been in.

Rafe peered at you for a quick moment, flipping over another rib.

"Uh, no, she's one of my daughter's friends." Rafe said, his demeanor starting to change to cold and stern. "The foods not done yet, kid." He swated you away.

You scoff again, he knows you're not here to talk about the food. And who does he think he is calling you that, kid, tsk.

You weren't a kid when you could take all 9 inches of him, back then you were a "good girl."

"Rafe--Mr. Cameron, Can we talk? In private? It's about Maribella." You lied.

He barely looked at you as he spoke, "Can't it wait for later, I'm busy?”

"It's important."

"I don't know, baby, if it's about your daughter, you should see what she wants, I can look after the grill." The woman said.

With a look of disdain, you looked at the blonde woman, but had it not been for her, Rafe would not have listened. Just as Rafe was about to remove his apron, the woman seized his jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

In a moment of unawareness, your hand inadvertently swept across the small glass bowl of barbecue sauce, unintentionally shattering the glass and causing some of the sauce to spill onto the women's Prada sandals.

"Oops." You shrug, storming off into the house, in the mitts, you glanced at Maribella, you were thankful she'd been resting with her eyes close and had her earbuds in.

You felt Rafe trailing behind you hot, the sound of his sandals clucking on the ground being the only thing you can focus on.

You attempt to rapidly close the sliding patio door before he could reach you, but it was too late, Rafe had caught onto the door.

"You're really childish, Y/N, you know that?" he spats.

You sped walked through the vacant house, no route in mind.

"Do you hear me little girl?" Rafe sternly says, as if he were talking to Maribella.

Suddenly, you felt the piercing sensation of Rafe's grip on your wrist, and your body being jerked. "Hey--Listen to me when I'm speaking to you."

Under Rafe's grip, you'd been in his mercy, as you looked up into angry eyes.

"Is there a reason why you're acting like such a brat?"

"It just doesn't make sense." You said, your voice shaky from the sound of the lump forming in your throat. "What does she have that I don't? A good credit score, a stable job?"

you struggle to get out of Rafe's hold, but his grip on you was too tight.

"Need I remind me you that you ended things with me?" Rafe gritted.

"But I didn't expect you to move on so quickly!" You shouted. " Did I mean nothing to you?"

Rafe squeezed your wrist, coming closer to your face. "Lower your tone when you're talking to me little girl."

"Fuck you." you sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. You didn't mean to say it, but it was in the heat of the moment, and you were angry.

Rafe's eyes grew darker, and his face had grown angrier, and just by the way he roughly dragged you through the house, you knew you had fucked up.

"Rafe! You're hurting me!" you cried, as he dragged you up the stairs.

"Shut up!" He spat at you. "Of all the nice things I've done for you in the past, this is what I get? A fuck you? 'Dad, Y/n has a flat tire but doesn't have the money for a new one.' 'Dad, Y/n is $100 short on her rent this month.' " Rafe mocked his daughter.

"I'm the one that let your pouge ass even come near here and my daughter, but fuck me, right?" he said.

As Rafe dragged you onto his master bedroom, locking the doors behind him, you felt the tears spilling from your eyes because of how bad you felt remembering all the other ways Mr. Cameron had helped you that hadn't been sexual.

Rafe had pushed you onto the bed, grumbling to himself as he started untying his apron, you watched him with wide eyes as he paced.

"What are you going to do to me?" you squeaked.

"I'm going to fuck some sense into you, because who the hell do you think you are speaking to me like that?" he spat.

"Fuck you." He mocked, grumbling to himself.

And before you knew it, Rafe grabbed the back of your head and his lips had angrily crashed into your tear soaked ones.

As your lips parted, the salty taste of your tears mixed with the sweetness of Rafe's kiss. It was a kiss born of anger and passion, a kiss that set your skin ablaze.

Rafe's hands moved deftly, untangling the knot of your bikini top. Your breasts, full and heavy, spilled free.

Rafe's touch was both urgent and tender, a contradiction that mirrored the storm of emotions swirling within you both.

As Rafe's lips trailed down your neck, you felt a shiver run through your body, a sensation that was both thrilling and comforting. It was as if all your senses had come alive, each one crying out for more.

As Rafe kissed your neck, his hands played with the hem of your bikini bottom, his fingers tempting to touch your most prized possession.

"Rafe, I need it." You whined, as he put your hand in your bikini bottoms, using his palm to cup your wet heat. "I need you."

Not long after, Rafe's hand slipped out of your bottoms. He was now unbuckling the belt to his shorts and pulling down his pants and briefs.

Rafe didn't even bother to pull your bikini bottoms down before pushing all 9 inches into your cunt; he fucked you through the makeshift opening he made by hooking his fingers through the crotch of your bottom. 

Rafe's thrusts were urgent and deep, causing you to yelp at the bitter sweet intrusion.

Usually Rafe was slow with the first couple of strokes inside of you--so your cunt could accommodate to his size--but today he was merciless.

Because of the wetness of your cunt, Rafe's cock had easily slipped in and out of you, but to you each thrust felt like a burning sting.

Nonetheless, You moaned as he filled you, your hands grasping at his back, pulling him closer and closer.

Rafe cerulean eyes never left yours--if you could describe the look on his face, you would describe it as a look of hatred, but as you looked down to where your bodies connected--the slick that coated yours and his sex organs--this wasn't hatred. So what was it?

You called out his name in pleasure.

The makeshift opening in your bikini bottoms stretched to accommodate his thickness, the thin fabric digging into your skin as he pounded into you. With each thrust, he pushed your body further into his soft bedsheets. With each thrust he pushed you further into pure bliss.

"This is why I don't fuck with young girls." Rafe muttered. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he sought to go even deeper.

"You all are too needy and in for it because of the daddy issues." He said under his breath. Then suddenly, as if it was used for leverage, Rafe's hand clasped around your throat; your mouth had formed the shape of an '0'.

As his pace quickened, your breath quickened too, short gasps escaping your lips.

Rafe's mouth had been inches away from yours; you arched your back just enough to hover over his plush lips, and you sucked in his breath as his grip tightened around your gullet. 

Rafe kissed you, his tongue swiping the inside of your mouth.

The sensation of being so full, of being taken with such urgency, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You knew this encounter was reckless, but the thrill of it only added to your arousal. You wanted this—needed this—and as Rafe's thrusts became more frenzied, you knew he was close.

And just by the way your cunt had fluttered around his length, you knew that you were close too.

And then, just as you gone to moan, you heard a knock at Rafe's door.

"Sweetheart? Are you in there?"

It was her.

Rafe's hand--the one clasped around your throat, now covered your mouth.

His cock had faltered inside of you once he heard the sound of her voice, but he kept fucking you anyway.

"Uh-yeah, babe, I'm just taking a break from the party." He said, his eyes penetrating through your skull; his voice sounded as if he weren't penetrating through your cunt. 

"Oh, ok. Just telling you the ribs are done, should I put the hot dogs on next?" She asked, clueless about her boyfriend fucking his daughter's best friend. 

You found yourself enjoying how fucked up this was--how satisfying it was to know that Rafe was fucking you and not her right now.

"Yeah--shit--" involuntarily, your cunt had squeezed Rafe's length. "Fuck. Y-yeah do that." Rafe said. 

"Or maybe I can join you? "Take a break" from the party together?" The woman had said seductively, causing you to roll your eyes at her pass at Rafe. 

"Say the word, Y/N." Rafe whispered. "Say the word and I can have her gone."

You had hoped the room had been soundproof from the way Rafe pace had quickened. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, a testament to the intensity of your passion.

You moaned loudly, but it had been muffled by Rafe's palm. Your nails digged into his shoulders as you matched his rhythm.

"Baby?" The woman said.

Your breath quickened as you neared your peak, Rafe eyes never leaving yours. "Say the word." he mouthed.

Fuck did you want Rafe, fuck did you want him so bad.

But Rafe wasn't supposed to be "Rafe" to you; he was supposed to be Mr. Cameron.

And Mr. Cameron wasn't supposed to be fucking you. 

You both had crossed a line, and there was nothing more to your relationship than what was behind that line. No matter how much you daydreamt about it, this--you and Rafe together--could never be a thing.

With a final, powerful thrust, you'd reached your climax. Shortly after, Rafe had reached his own, his body tensing as he filled your cunt with his release. 

You could feel his warmth inside you, a satisfying sensation that left you breathless and wanting more and, more evidently, filled with dread.

As he slowly withdrew, you could feel his length slide out of you, leaving you with a delicious emptiness that only he could fill.

When Rafe realized you weren't going to tell him to tell her to leave, he made a face at you, a face that said- if you didn't know any better- he was disappointed by your choice. 

"Baby, are you alright in there?" The woman said. 

"Yeah, could you, could you give me a moment?" Rafe had asked her, and shortly after, you heard the obnoxious flapping of her Prada sandals flapping away.

Rafe got himself situated before helping you. 

He tied your bikini top back to its place and your bikini bottoms.

And then gotten a warm towel and wiped the dried tears on your cheeks, and then he wiped away the remainder of his and your cum that slid down your thighs. 

You kind of just sat there with your head looking at your lap, trying to avoid Rafe's gaze.

"Will you stay for the rest of the barbecue?" Rafe asked. I would really appreciate it if you did." 

Rafe had waited for you to say something, but you never did. When he realized you weren't going to say anything, he had nothing to say himself, as he figured that it was officially over between you two, and what more can you say once you've reached the end of something? 

Tag list- @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @xcinnamonmalfoyx @starkeysbebe 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ovaryacted]

TIME CRUNCH

PAIRING: DBF! Joel Miller x fem! reader || WC: 2.7k

SYNOPSIS: The Miller household is hosting a neighborhood barbecue for the 4th of July with your father on the grill. While you're there, you steal a couple of minutes to get much more than beer and cooked meat.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. [NO OUTBREAK] SMUT. Age gap implied (Joel is 36, Reader is 21+). Kissing. Oral & Fingering (f receiving). Panty stealing. Bathroom shenanigans. Beer drinking. Allusions to secret established relationship/messing around. Joel is down bad & calls reader several pet names. Descriptions of reader wearing a dress & mini skirt. No use of y/n.

A/N: Hi hi. I don't know how this happened, but it just did. The idea came to mind yesterday and I sat down and wrote the whole thing in one sitting lol. Anywho, it's just some fun silly smut with DBF! Joel being a simp cause I love him like that. I imagined HBO Joel specifically for this one so this is a win for Pedro Pascal fans. Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! Not-beta'd cause I'm just real like that. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

The sun scorched the streets of Arlington, and the heat wave warning issued across the state of Texas did little to reflect the overwhelming weather. Coincidentally, it was the 4th of July, a seemingly exciting day for most patriotic Texans and Americans nationwide. You didn’t care much for the holiday, but it was a great excuse to enjoy the day off.

Your father had other plans. He hoped to use most of the weekend to crack open a cold one and fire up the grill. His good friend and neighbor offered to host a celebratory cookout at his place with mutual buddies tagging along, and with the newly available free time, you didn’t have any excuse to reject the offer. 

You found yourself in the backyard of the Miller’s residence, a home you’ve grown quite familiar with over the past few years, and especially since coming back from the college semester in Chicago. Initially, you had travel plans for the summer with friends, but your luck struck out when you landed an internship opportunity in Dallas, and your father was more than glad to welcome you back home.

It has been a busy summer for you since the beginning of June, and the prospect of a four-day weekend was too generous to pass up. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to be a face you saw regularly when returning to Texas, but you didn’t complain. Actually, you were much more content than you should be, and his close friendship with your dad only served as a better excuse to have him around more often.

Nursing a bottle of beer, you brought the lukewarm tip to your lips, sipping away at the tangy beverage as it washed down the thirst settling in your throat. You watched from afar as your dad was in his element, operating the grill like a soldier would his post. He flipped the burgers and poked at the hotdogs with ease, the black smoke surrounding him as he continued to cook.

“Meat’s looking nice.” You told him affirmingly with a smile and a hand on his shoulder, passing him a fresh bottle of beer.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.” He said, graciously accepting the bottle and taking a drink, sucking his teeth at the bitter taste. Miller Lite, it wasn’t his preferred Budweiser, but it will do the job. “Sun’s beating down on my back, though. Not easy to grill in this heat.”

“You’re handling it well, bearing the burden for all of us.” He laughed at that, gently kissing the top of your head in paternal affection.

From your peripheral, you observed Joel coming into his driveway, returning from a pitstop at the grocery store for extra hot dog buns and more beer. His younger brother Tommy strode ahead, carrying the buns in one arm and a bag filled with chips and salsa in the other. Behind him, Joel carried a large box of beer in his grasp, your sight trailing down his forearms to peek at the veins that protruded his skin.

His long legs sauntered over to the coolers near the tables, decorated in red, white, and blue embellishments. Sarah Miller came scampering towards her father, dragging Tommy along to reiterate a joke he had mentioned, playfully teasing her uncle. The next time Joel raised his head, his brown eyes landed on you, prolonging his gaze for a second more and giving you a charming grin before you looked away.

By 2 pm, other residents in the neighborhood and long-time friends of the Miller household flooded through the backyard, busying themselves with eating your dad’s cooking and drinking more alcohol. Some of Sarah’s friends had stopped by, engaging in the girlhood tradition of exchanging gossip or whatever the young kids spoke about in this day and age.

Every few minutes, you’d glance over to Joel to see what he was doing. Whether he was refilling the cooler, jesting with his brother, setting up the stereo, or even reminiscing with your dad, your eyes followed him wherever he went. As elegantly as possible, you approached the pair, politely stopping your dad’s conversation with his friend.

“Going to the bathroom. I’ll be back, Dad.” You told him, darting to Joel and meeting his eyes again before turning your back and walking towards the kitchen.

Stepping through the yard door to reach the stairs, you quickly trekked up to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door. Freshening yourself up in the room, you glimpsed at your reflection to fix the cleavage of your dress, making your breasts more prominent. A minute goes by, and you find yourself waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

At the three-minute mark, you hear a knock at the door, two firm taps followed by three smaller ones. Before opening it, you hid behind the door, allowing Joel’s broad figure to enter the gap and step inside. The click of the lock broke the tense silence in the room, and your lower back was pinned against the edge of the bathroom sink with Joel’s rough hands on your hips.

“Took you long enough. Thought you wouldn’t come up.” You muttered to him, his lips quickly leaving a trail of kisses over the side of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry darlin’, your dad wanted to have a chat,” Joel said hastily, his mouth occupied with tasting the skin of your collarbone as your hand rubbed the hair on his nape. “Been thinkin’ about you since the other night.”

You beamed at Joel’s comment, the genuine tone of his voice brought comfort after hearing his confession. You didn’t know how this “relationship” with Joel happened if you were willing to call it a relationship to begin with. He wasn’t supposed to be this close to you, to know you so intimately, but the way you’ve inhabited his mind since returning to Texas was almost too much to bear.

He drove you home one late night from a club downtown, not wanting to bother calling your dad or worrying about taking an Uber alone. Ever the gentleman, he kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel, trying his hardest not to skim at your bare thighs when your mini skirt shifted higher up your leg.

You thanked him with a drunk kiss on the cheek, drawing away only to have his thumb caress your chin, luring you forward to mesh your lips against his own. The memories of that night were fuzzy, but what you remembered most was the feel of his hand curling around your neck and his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt, molding you to the length of him until you ached and woke up in his bed the next morning.

That happened a month ago. It was meant to be a one-time thing, an accident after too many tequila shots at the bar. But the convenience of having a capable man like Joel across the street was something you wouldn’t find back on campus. It couldn’t be so wrong to fuck your father’s best friend, not when it felt like reaching a high every time he made you cum.

“If you don’t say anything, I won’t either, and your old man never needs to find out. This stays between us.”

He told you that after the second time you “accidentally” slept with him, and since then, you have been around Joel whenever your father wasn’t paying attention. Having to dodge your dad along with Tommy and Sarah on Joel’s end wasn’t easy, but it was doable. You’d usually meet him late at night when you were free, opting to have fun in the backseat of his truck. When you both had the luxury of time, you’d spend the day at his house when Sarah was having sleepovers or when your dad was out of the house.

Any time you weren’t at work, or Joel wasn’t busy juggling his job and caring for Sarah, you spent it with him. So far, your summer has gone much better than you expected.

“You just saw me two days ago.” The smirk on Joel’s face was infectious, his signature dimples poking through as he feverishly kissed you again.

“Still not enough, and your dress ain’t helpin’ my case.”

“What’s wrong with my dress? Thought you liked it when I got dolled up for you.” The lightly colored sundress was a simple addition to your wardrobe, throwing it on for the barbecue. Despite the tame silhouette that hugged your figure, the low neckline sent all the blood in Joel’s body rushing south the minute he saw you on his front doorstep.

“Oh, I like it very much. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck you the way I want.” He pressed his hips into your lower stomach, the dark denim of his jeans doing nothing to conceal the bulge hidden underneath.

“How much time do you think we have before they send over the search party?” You asked him, gasping when you felt a soft nip behind your ear. 

“Five minutes, maybe eight. Your dad’s busy makin’ ribs, and everyone’s occupied downstairs for now.”

Joel maneuvered himself down to his knees, playing with the hem of your dress and raising it to your hips. His fingers grazed over the panties you wore, placing an affectionate kiss on your sensitive mound before tugging them down your smooth legs. He helped you step out of them, discreetly shoving the damp cotton into his back pocket to save for later. 

“You said we had five minutes.” Your breathless voice began to betray you, and you felt him grip your thigh with a large hand to set it over his shoulder.

“That’s all the time I need. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, yeah?”

That was the last thing he said before he licked a languid stripe over your pussy, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle the mewl that threatened to spill out. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his dark tresses, keeping him in place as he feasted on you like a man starved. 

“Fuck, Joel.” You moaned under your breath, huffing out an exhale and tossing your head back in pleasure. He hummed in reply, spreading you wider and nuzzling his face deeper between your legs, the hair on his jaw scraping your inner thighs.

Joel quickly learned what you liked, how you wanted your pussy to be treated, whether it was by his hand, his tongue, or his dick. Precise circles on your clit, diligent sucks around the sensitive nub, and two thick fingers curling inside to hit the textured spot tucked in the very roof of your entrance. He paid attention to all the signs that would signal the best way to make your body convulse under his touch and excelled in doing so.

Nudging the bridge of his nose against your bundle of nerves, he tilted his head up to wrap his plush lips around it, pulling a suppressed whimper from you with a roll of his tongue. Your hazy eyes opened to watch Joel, maintaining his ravenous gaze and bucking your hips, greedily seeking more friction. 

“That’s right, baby. Take what you need.” He mumbled against your folds, increasing the flicks of his tongue and dipping two thick fingers deep inside you, bending them just right.

The warmth that simmered deep in your belly intensified, coursing through your veins and rushing to the center of your body. Your knuckles turned white from tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, and your throat bobbed to stop yourself from crying out Joel’s name. You were so close, so fucking close, whining as you quickly reached your climax. He didn’t need a warning, already familiar with the cue of your walls clenching around him when you were about to spill over his hand.

Joel gave you a blunt suck and drove the tips of his fingers further inside with practiced precision, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your legs shook from the force of it, his hand on your thigh holding you steady as he coaxed you to ride the wave all the way through. With a gentle yank of his head, he parted from you, placing one last wet kiss on your oversensitive clit before standing up straight with a grunt.

The dopey smile plastered on your face said all that needed to be said, and Joel took it in with appreciative eyes. He brought the two digits that he used on you to his mouth, cleaning off the remnants of your slick without shame. If you two weren’t on a time crunch, you would be on your knees repaying the favor.

“You’re insane. You know that, right?” You expressed with a laugh.

“It ain’t my fault you taste better than the cool beer downstairs, sweetheart.” He kissed you then, the leftover taste of your arousal on his lips made your head fuzzy and your body pulse. “You should go back before your old man wonders where you went.”

He dropped the hem of your dress back down, smoothing out any creases while you adjusted the neckline and fixed up the rest of your flush appearance. The plan was simple: you walked out first, and Joel followed a few minutes later with some eloquent excuse to use for cover. Surprisingly, it usually worked without a hitch, you two had this down to a science after all.

“I’m still seeing you later tonight, right?” You almost didn’t want to ask him that, afraid you’d seem too eager for his attention. But he was always there with the reassuring answer you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, baby, you will. I’ll come by and grab you. Now go, I gotta take care of this.” Joel gestured to the obvious tent in his jeans, your hand reaching for it to caress him with your palm. The rumble of a groan vibrated through his chest, kissing him once more and moving to the door. He spanked your ass before you slipped out of his grasp, turning back to catch his cheeky expression and leaving him in the bathroom to tend to his own needs.

You strolled back into the backyard with a pep in your step and found your dad setting aside a fresh round of cooked hot dogs and burgers for the crowd. He drenched the ribs in a concoction reminiscent of barbecue sauce, closed the grill to leave them to cook, and saw you closing near him.

“You alright, hun? Got worried the beer hit you the wrong way for a second.” Your father’s eyes were full of concern, soothing him with a shake of your head. If only he knew where his best friend’s mouth had been a few minutes ago.

“Nah, the beer is just fine, promise. How about a bite to eat? I’m hungry.”

Munching away at your burger, Joel returned to the yard just as you expected, with no hard-on and more charcoal he was allegedly looking for in the garage. You eyed him as he spoke to Tommy, accepting a new beer bottle and taking an ample sip. He knew you were paying attention to him despite his face remaining neutral, but his eyes told you another story, something only meant for the two of you to understand.

A calm breeze swept through the backyard and up your legs through your dress, forcing you to remember that you were bare underneath the flowy material. The culprit had the evidence safely tucked in one of the drawers of his dresser, away from sight and probably already stained with his release.

You didn’t need to worry, you know you’ll get them back later tonight.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[lewisvinga]

venice bitch | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; snippets of charles’s love for y/n that makes her forever grateful he is hers.

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

word count; 674

notes; requested ! tbh i struggled to decide to make this angst or fluff but k made it fluff😭😭 n i also couldn’t figure out how to incorporate the exact words ‘venice bitch’, so this lowk could’ve been better im sorry🤒🤒

masterlist !

“I swear you’re like an ice cream ice queen,” Charles says in between laughs as Y/n drags him down the streets of Venice to a local gelato shop. She playfully rolls her eyes as he opens the door for her.

“Like you’re one to complain. I know you like to kiss me after I eat gelato!” She exclaimed, glancing back at him with a smile and getting in line.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You’re just so sweet for me when I kiss you!” He replies, watching her order gelato. “The strawberry flavor makes your kisses taste sweet.” He whispers in her ear as she orders that exact flavor.

“You’re something else, Charles Leclerc.”

“But you love it.”

She rolls her eyes once again with a smile lingering on her lips. Once she made it to the register, she didn’t even notice that he already had his card out and was ready to swipe.

By the time Y/n opened her bag, Charles already swiped his card. The realization made her let out a gasp. “Charles! I said I’d pay.”

“No can do, honey.”

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“Got the fire started!” Charles calls out from the backyard, adjusting the seats around the bonfire he had started. Y/n was out in the front yard tending to her plants before rushing to the backyard.

He had set out the ingredients needed to make s’mores, and when she noticed, she gasped. He pats the spot beside him, “Got a special seat for you here.”

“Cha’” She whispers, sitting down next to him. “You’re amazing.”

“Anything for my honey.” He kissed her head gently before grabbing the ingredients along with the bamboo sticks for the marshmallow.

They spend hours by the bonfire as the summer fades away and slowly ends. The scene felt like it was out of a hallmark. It was something that Y/n had always dreamt of. It was always the same one dream, one life, and one lover.

And she couldn’t have wished for a better man.

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“No peeking yet!” Charles exclaims, making sure to not mess up her makeup while keeping his hands over her eyes. He carefully leads her into their shared home in Monaco. They had just returned from a 5th anniversary dinner and Y/n returned with a special stone on her ring finger.

“Charles, you have another surprise? I’ll mess up my makeup even more!” She whined, her fingers playing with the diamond engagement ring. “Besides, this diamond is enough to keep me satisfied with surprises for the next few months.”

“Amour, we both know that’s a lie.” Charles chuckled, “You love your diamonds.” He added, gesturing at the diamond necklace and earrings she wore even though she couldn’t see him.

“What can I say? Me, myself, I like diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend.”

“Okay, ready?”

“To cry more? Yes.”

The Ferrari driver couldn’t hold back his laugh as he slowly removed his hands. Y/n opens her eyes and gasps as she sees the scene. Her closest friends and her family were standing in their very decorated backyard. There were white flowers everywhere, and there was a table with a cake set up that had the words ‘Just Engaged!’ written on top. He invited the people closest to her and him to celebrate their engagement.

“You did not…” She says, still in shock, and turns around. Tears filled her eyes as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re too good for me, Cha’.” She cried in his arms.

“My best girl deserves the world,” Charles whispers, caressing her cheek in his hands. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, smiling as their family and friends cheered for the newly engaged. “I love you, mon amour.”

“And I love you, honey,” Y/n whispers back, staring at him with nothing but love and adoration in her eyes. “Truthfully, if you weren’t mine, I’d be jealous of your love.” She adds, leaning in and giving him another of many kisses as a newly engaged couple.

[toxicanonymity]

As ugly as he seems. Left in Lincoln pt. 6

8.4k words, dark dbf!Joel x virgin f!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him. 

WARNINGS: I8+, grinding, light somnophilia, thigh fucking, fingering, oral f receiving, P in V just the tip, reader menstruates, angst, pet names and praise, toxic dark joel, pining, obsession, horror vibes. he's sweet with reader, but he is. . . unhinged. NO Y/N.

—---

You were back home in your room, lying in bed looking at the stain on the ceiling when it all became hazy.  You kept staring until your eyes watered and you could no longer see the spot at all.  The air was thick with smoke and dread.  There was shouting outside.  You went to your bedroom window and opened it. The night was dark, but a flickering glow illuminated the scene in your backyard.  The door to the spider shed was moving, flapping violently.  When it opened, Joel Miller emerged in a white tank top and jeans and an ax slung over his shoulder.  He stared at you but didn’t say a word or even nod.

He charged slowly but deliberately toward the house until he was out of sight and a loud crack downstairs told you he was swinging the ax.  At the other end of the house, the shouting outside intensified. As Joel continued axing down the door, you followed the shouting down the hall and looked out a window facing the front yard.  Bill and Frank were in the middle of the street fighting off infected who were crawling toward the house.  Bill was shooting at them. Frank was futilely trying to put the fire out with a hose.  

Frank saw you in the window and shouted, “STAY UPSTAIRS!”

The cracking at the door turned into splintering, then boots thudding up the stairs.  You ran into the hall just as Joel crested the top landing.  His biceps were smudged with ash but glistening and his hair was wild.  He lunged toward you and crouched down, wrapping his arms around you in a hug before hoisting you over his shoulder to carry you.  He carried you downstairs and to the kitchen where he unlocked the shredded back door.  Once you got outside, Joel didn’t stop.  He kept walking away from the house.  Not toward his house, not toward anywhere.  Over his shoulder, you could see the house shrink into the distance.  The shouting continued but faded as Joel carried you away.  Then, with a loud boom, the house was completely engulfed in flames.  

You tried to scream, tried to beg Joel to save your fathers, but you couldn’t make a noise. 

—------

You woke up at Joel’s house gasping for air and heard yourself making an awful noise, more like a murder of crows than anything human.  You sat up and took deep breaths. Frank’s note repeated in your head: We love you so much. Protect yourself. 

Within seconds, footsteps were ascending the stairs.  The bedroom door opened, and Joel rushed over with a look of panic on his face. He was in boxers and a tight, white t-shirt. 

He sat down and hugged your head to his chest.  “Shhhhhhh, I’ve got you….. You’re okay. . . . you’re okay.”  You felt safer in his big arms, but the dread wouldn’t leave you and you couldn’t slow your heart rate.  When you didn’t stop sniffling, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare”

“‘About what, darlin’?”

“Our house was on fire and it felt like everyone was gonna die.” 

He rubbed your back.  “We’re okay, the house is okay.” 

“I mean my family’s house.” 

“Oh,” he muttered and his hand paused for a moment. He kissed your head, then his hand resumed its slow circles on the bare skin above your nightgown. “Oh, darlin’.  That sounds like a real bad dream.” 

“It felt so real.”

“I know, honey.” He held you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head. 

You were so grateful to him for everything, but suddenly felt guilty about being at his house instead of yours. You told him, “I should be there taking care of things.  I’m doing a bad job.” 

But at the same time, going back there was the last thing you wanted. It was so scary, so lonely at your house before Joel came and saved you. It was terrifying to think about.  You had to go back, the dream ripped open something deep in the back of your mind, something you couldn’t even discern, but which compelled you.  You hoped Joel wouldn’t let you stay there alone. Of course he wouldn’t, you told yourself. 

“You’re safer here, darlin’.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I’m worried.” 

He sighed.  “Okay, peaches,” His large hand squeezed your arm and he kissed your head again.  “We’ll go over there in the mornin’.  How’s that?” 

Relief washed over you at the sound of Joel’s offer. Finally the tension in between your shoulder blades began to release. “Thanks.” It was still the dead of night. 

Joel asked, “Got room for an old man?” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone.  Knowing he wouldn’t leave you finally helped your heart rate to begin to slow. 

You nodded and Joel slipped into your bed.  He put his big arm under your neck and hugged you from behind.  He nestled you into him as a little spoon and held you tight as you fell asleep.  Nowhere felt safer than Joel’s arms. 

—------------

When you woke up, it was still dark.  You had drifted slightly forward in the bed, and Joel’s embrace had loosened.  Needing to be closer to him, you scooted back into his chest.  He cupped your breast with a sigh, then curved his body against yours again. His breathing suggested he was still asleep. As he nestled his knees behind yours, the solid shape of his cock sent a shock of desire through you. Its shape and warmth were unmistakable, even though it was all new to you.  Your body certainly recognized it and began to prepare itself for what it wanted.  

You pushed your ass back against him and his body rewarded you with a twitch of his cock. He let out soft noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. You pushed back again, and his hips gently pushed forward.  You slowly moved your hand to grab the bottom hem of your nightgown and tug it down so your bare nipple would be against his hand.   As soon as the satin was out of the way, your nipple hardened against his palm and you caught a whimper in your chest before it had a voice.  Joel’s palm pressed against your breast, and he sighed as his manhood swelled harder against your ass.  

You would’ve given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you, but you knew he wouldn’t.  For a minute, you tried to ignore it all. You focused on his breathing.  Even his breathing was masculine and protective.  You had almost fallen back asleep when he began to massage your breast, and his hips began to push his wood against you at a slow, regular rhythm through the thin barrier of his boxers.  Joel’s mouth was pressed into your hair and his body was actively cradling yours, no longer asleep.  You were throbbing and a warm pool was forming between your legs. 

You loosely tangled your fingers with Joel’s.  His lower body broke away, and for a moment you regretted your gesture, as if it had snapped him out of a sleepful indulgence.  But then his hips returned, and you gasped at the contact of his smooth, bare cock.  It rested warm and hard against you with the head nudging the top of your crack.  

“‘S’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair.  “Can’t trust myself.” He groaned softly as his palm flattened your breast and the same arm pulled you tighter against him.  You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand and held it against your chest instead.  His massive palm cradled your own hand gently around your breast then left it there while he pulled down your panties.  After taking them off, he wrapped his arm over you again.  

With one arm under your pillow, he backed up enough to get clearance for his ample morning wood.  He wedged his foot between your ankles to lift your leg ever so slightly, then nestled his cock between your thighs, right up against your throbbing seam.  

Joel groaned at your wetness as his erection slid forward between your thighs, and you gasped when the thick head of his cock came to rest at your clit.  

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “I feel how bad you want it.” His arm flexed under your pillow. “Poor thing, all wet and swollen”

When you didn’t respond, he added “s’a good thing, baby.  This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. 

“God damn,” he sighed and dragged his cock back.  The crown stopped short of your entrance before reversing toward your clit again, and you whimpered. Your belly was warm and tingly. 

Joel’s hand lightly grazed your abdomen on its way to your mound, then rested there. His cock slid back, and two fingers took its place where your wetness pooled.  He swirled his finger gently and slowly. “‘s’perfect,” he whispered to himself.

He dipped his fingers halfway in and you gasped at the welcome stretch.  He brought the wetness to your clit and began to draw circles. With his fingers out of the way, his cock slid forward again, bypassing your tight, wet hole, which spasmed at the proximity. “Oh, baby,” he breathed into your hair.   “It’s too much to bear,” he groaned at a low, shaky pitch. Surely not compared to what he was doing to you.  

Just the thought of him inside you–the thought of him occupying your body–was enough to tug at your tear ducts.  Tears of need.  He slid his cock back, then forward again, and when the tip reached your clit, it also met his fingers. You were getting pressure from both directions, and the tension in your belly threatened to burst.  God, you wanted him, needed him. 

He thrust his hips up against your ass with a sigh, moving his cock a little further, deeper between your thighs, as his hips flattened the plush of your asscheeks. Ohh, he knew how to make you feel good. Further, then back. Deeper, then back. He rocked in small movements, and the wet friction with your clit drove you crazy. 

“Joel, please.” You pushed your ass back into him and your bodies moved in rhythm.  

“Mm hmm, love feelin’ ya, baby.” Joel drove his cock a little faster, and his breathing became more labored. 

“Me too,” you whimpered.  He rubbed your clit as he fucked your thighs.  

“I want it bad, baby. You feel that?”

“yea-I, it’s so, it’s so big.” 

“When I’m real big and hard, that’s for you, baby.” His thrusts intensified. His breath was heavy and warm against your ear.  “That’s all for you,” he whispered.  

“Yes,” you whined. 

He moved his hand back to your breast and you looked down.  You watched the head of his cock appear and disappear between them and felt a new rush of arousal. The head was swollen and darker than you’d remembered. 

Your spine arched and you whimpered, “Joel.”

He thrust hard with a grunt, laid his palm on your mound, and covered the head of his cock with his fingers as you began to pulse against him. He groaned with the throb of your climax and finally lost some composure. “God damn, I wanna fill you up.” 

Your body jerked against him.  “I, I– Joel-” 

“Just, oh God, stuff you full of me.” His breath was ragged.

“I–” What you wanted to say was, I need it, I need you to.  He kept thrusting between your slippery thighs, and kept you pulsing.  Your waves of pleasure echoed, smaller and farther apart.   

You pulled yourself together to ask, “Can, can I feel you come?”

“Wanna feel me come?” he panted as he fucked the warm, wet little pocket so close to where you wanted him. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as he continued to accelerate.  

“Yeah,” he repeated and kept thrusting. 

“Please,” you asked. 

“Go ‘head.” 

He moved his hand back to your breast, groping you slowly but hungrily as he made room for your hand. His arm held you still as he railed between your thighs.  “Oh, god damn,” he breathed into your hair as you cupped your hand around the tip of his cock. . “Oh, god-”  Then he shuddered -- When his cock pulsed between your legs, it was so big, so powerful, like it was trying to push your thighs apart.  A new wave of pleasure surged through you.  You gasped as his hot load filled your palm. His breath was ragged against your hair, his chest heaving against your back.  The warm, white spend kept coming, and coming.  You held your hand steady as best you could as your heat twitched against him and his balls emptied. 

You were both still and quiet, with his arm draped over you.  His cum was still in your hand, but you didn’t want him to move.  Once his cock began to soften, he slid it out from between your legs.  He whispered, “I love you, baby” and kissed you on the head before going to get you a washcloth.  Then you went to take a shower and he made the bed.  

—-----

After breakfast, Joel walked with you down the street to your house.  It felt like you were leaving a safe place.  The broken asphalt was littered with debris from the storm, but it felt less spooky than when the two of you made the opposite walk, from your house to Joel’s.   As your house came into view, you felt relieved that it looked intact, but guilty for leaving it unattended. Irrational as it was, you were also fearful, as if the house might be decaying from the inside out.   The closer you got, the more you knew the terrible dream hadn’t faded from your mind.  The mood of your nightmare followed you and made you envision the worst. You imagined the insides of the house gutted from a fire.  Tall, black sheets, pieces of your life peeling off the walls.  You imagined the insides grown over with weeds and mold.  Then infected. 

The dream made you see Frank’s note differently. Cautionary.  It even made you see Joel differently.  He saved you in the dream, but something felt wrong.  He saved you, you kept reminding yourself.  He saved you from the fire.  

You knew these feelings would fade, but Joel could tell you were unsettled.  He stopped you when you were coming up to your house.  “You okay, darlin’?” Only then did you realize you had tears in your eyes.  

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. 

“C’mere, baby, I know it was scary.”  He wrapped you in a hug.  “Everything’s fine, you’ll see.” 

Joel peeked his head inside the front door and gave the all-clear, then he checked the gardens while you went inside.  You went to Bill and Frank’s room to make sure everything was okay and ready for them to come back.  It was silly, but you checked under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, and even in the closet, looking for anything bad. Something lurking, growing, falling apart.  You felt like there must be evidence of your neglect somewhere but you couldn’t find it.   

While you were in their closet, a gray metal box caught your eye.  You weren’t looking for it, but you were familiar with it.  When you saw it, you had a strong impulse to take what was in it, lest a fire or horde of infected take it.  It had been years since you opened the box, but it was just as it was.  Your biological father’s wedding ring, a custom knife from your mother, and a loaded gun. You hesitated, then heard Frank’s words again: Protect yourself. You took a messenger bag of Frank’s off the closet shelf and nestled the objects in a zippered compartment.

—- 

While Joel was still outside, you went upstairs and packed a few articles of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and a book in the bag. You wondered if you should plan to stay in your own house again. Joel could stay there, too. It felt foregone that you and Joel would stay together, wherever you were, and thank God.

When you came downstairs from your room, you sat on the sofa.  You recalled the first time Joel came over and comforted you right there. The rush you felt when he first embraced you and the aching throb when you felt him get hard. None of that had changed. You still felt it every time. The only thing that had changed was you. A void had opened up inside of you that only he could fill. 

When Joel came back inside, he stopped at the threshold of the living room and looked at you sitting on the sofa. He put his hands behind his back, jutted his chest forward and stretched without taking his eyes off you. 

He asked, “Ya miss it?” It was a casual enough question, the way he said it. 

“Kinda,” you said.  “But I feel at home when I’m with you.” 

His face became serious and he stopped mid-stretch.  He dropped his hands to his sides and his brows knitted as he approached.  He sat down and put his arm around you.  “You dunno how glad I am to hear that.” 

You nodded, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. A new, gentler shade of brown.  He took your cheeks in his hands and kissed you deeply.  

“Need anything else before we go home?” Joel asked. 

“Nah.”  You picked up the messenger bag and saw Joel eyeing it.  

You thought he might ask what was in it, but all he said was, “Neat bag,” and for some reason, you were relieved.  

You trusted Joel completely but felt better when you were also “being smart,” as Bill would say.  A person can only count on themself, you were taught.  You got the sense Joel would like for you to leave everything to him, but he was only human. You had to protect yourself, too.  

—---

On the way back to Joel’s house, there seemed to be something on his mind.  “Look, peaches,” he started. “I’m sorry ‘bout this mornin’, in bed . . .” This ignited an unexpected flicker of anger in you.  What did he need to be sorry about? 

“Why?” you asked.

“Uh. . .”

“I wish you wouldn’t be sorry,” you added earnestly.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.” 

Incredulous, you asked, “What part do you regret?”

“No, baby, no, no, no.” He stopped walking and took your hands in his. “Nothin’ to regret.  I just–I felt like I almost lost control.” 

You scoffed. “I wish you would’ve.” 

He squeezed your hands. “I want everything to be special for you.  I’m not gonna catch you off guard like that.” 

You asked, “You’re gonna tell me when, then?” 

“We’ll decide together.” Right. Whatever. 

It put you in a bad mood, so you started walking again, kicked a stick in the road, and changed the subject. 

—-----

That night, over dinner, you asked, “How’s Tommy?” When Joel got back from the QZ, you had been so focused on Frank that you forgot to ask. 

“Didn’t catch him,” Joel said. 

“Oh, sorry.” After eating another bite, you asked, “Why doesn’t he ever come visit?”

Joel finished chewing and said, “I reckon Maria and the kids keep’m busy.”

“I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? He looks like me, younger, less handsome.”  Joel winked at you.  Then he went to a kitchen drawer to get a leather wallet.  He took out a worn, faded photograph of the two of them and handed it to you.  They looked so young. They were both in work shirts and hard hats. Joel was strikingly handsome, but nothing compared to now. He looked happy, but you preferred his weathered scowl. Tommy looked shy compared to Joel.  Tommy’s hair was longer and his arms were crossed, while Joel had an arm around Tommy’s shoulder.

You nodded, “a lot less handsome.” and Joel laughed. “But only because you’re that good looking,” you added. “I still don’t get why they don’t just move here,” you said. Joel had told you before: The farm life wasn’t for everybody.  But from what Joel said about the QZ, that idea didn’t make much sense to you. If the QZ was so bad, why would anyone prefer it to Lincoln? And if the QZ wasn’t so bad, why were you never allowed to visit it?

Joel was quiet, and there was something about the quiet that unsettled you. 

It came out of your mouth before you registered the thought. “Is he alive?” 

“What? Tommy?” Joel’s face changed completely. “What kind of question is that? He looked at you like you were crazy.  "‘Course he’s alive. Bill's stayin' with'm.” 

You weren't even sure why you asked. “Sorry.”

Joel's face softened.  "No, no, I'm sorry, darlin'." He put down his fork.  “Truth is, I wish he would visit. But I don’t think he much likes seein’ me.”

“Why? You’re brothers.”

“I reckon it brings back bad memories.”

“Like what?”

Joel sat back in his chair and rubbed one side of his beard. “Things we did. . . Things I did." He shook his head and looked at the ceiling. Quieter, he added, “things I’ve done.”

You were quiet for a minute.  You knew the answer, but you still asked, “Bad things? Like killing people?”

“Necessary things.” He nodded to himself.

“But you only killed bad people, right?”

Joel crossed his arms and his legs. “I don’t wanna scare ya, darlin’.”  

“Please tell me, I wanna know all of you.”

He shook his head. 

“Not just bad people,” you whispered in conclusion.

He swallowed, then looked at the table as he softly admitted, “Anyone who was in the way.” He didn’t look at you for a few seconds, then cautiously, his eyes began to rise to meet yours. “I would never, ever hurt you, darlin’. You’re the last person in the world I would–”

“I know,” you cut him off and took his hand. 

His brows knitted as he searched your face. 

"Darlin', the outbreak, it changed people. It's not somethin' ya can leave out there, either. If you knew what the world was like. . ." he trailed off.

You didn't talk for a few minutes, and in that time, something came over you.  You didn’t know what the world was like.  You heard that more times than you could count growing up.  You were sick of not knowing.  You might have been the only person left in the world who didn’t know. This was your chance, with Bill gone, if Joel could just take you out, even for a few hours one day.  

Joel kept looking at your face as if he was trying to read your mind.  Then you broke the silence: "Show me." 

Joel looked over his shoulder toward the orchard. "Show – show you?" He swallowed. 

"You said if I knew what the world was like. Show me. Take me out there. Just for a day."  

He shook his head and looked down like there was no possible way, like it was such a definite no, it wasn’t even worth the energy of convincing you. 

You insisted, "I know you can protect me." If anyone could protect you, Joel could. 

"Peaches–"

"Take me out.  Or you're gonna keep saying that for the rest of our lives, I just know it. That I don't know what it's like. Everyone says that."

"What did you just say?"

"Please, Joel, give me a chance, I know you can protect me." 

"The rest of our lives," he repeated, marveling at your words, ignoring your point. 

You swallowed and your cheeks burned. 

He nodded, "That's right, baby." 

—----

After dinner, Joel did some work outside and you stewed–about him holding out on you sexually, about him not wanting to ever take you out into the world.  That night, all you did was kiss on the sofa and listen to his whispers about the rest of your lives.  Once the kisses heated up and he hardened against your thigh, you said you didn’t feel well.  If he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you didn’t want him getting you all riled up. When you said you didn’t feel well, Joel didn’t ask any questions aside from what you needed and how he could help. 

When you went to bed, you thought about what he said.  Things I’ve done. You thought about the Red Sox caps.  And you slipped back into your fairy tale where he had done the worst things just to have you. It shouldn’t have made you feel better, but it did.  It made you feel better, not worse.  You knew in your gut Joel wanted you, and once you finally put your bodies together, you knew there would be no taking them apart. 

—----------------------

The next day, you really did feel crummy.  You went to the bathroom and found out why.  You got your period.  You had everything you needed – Joel had stocked your room really well, which made you emotional, and you felt bad for being mad at him. 

After dinner, Joel came in from working outside and found you curled up on the sofa. He came over with two glasses of water. 

“You okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.  I don’t feel that good.”

“What doesn't feel good?”

“I have cramps. I just feel pretty bad.  ”

He looked at you then sat down on the sofa.  “What can I do?”

“You’re sweet,” you said.  “Nothing you can do, though.”

“Well, mind if I join ya?”

You made room for him. Before he joined you on the sofa, he retrieved a plastic baggy from the kitchen and offered you a painkiller.  You accepted half of one. Before it had a chance to kick in, you whined wordlessly as you tried to get comfortable. 

“How ‘bout I run you a bath, darlin’?”

“Okay.”

“Bathtub’s nicer down here,” he said.  

You went to get your bathrobe from upstairs and curled up on his bed while his bathtub was filling up. When the water stopped, you walked into the bathroom. It was nice, like Bill and Frank’s.  The counter had two sinks.  The bathtub was separate from the shower.  It was a big garden tub nestled in its own nook in front of a window, with a ledge behind the end without the faucet.  

Joel was sitting on the ledge with his sleeves rolled up, checking the water for you. “See how that feels.”  

You dipped a toe in and nodded, then stood there for a moment until you realized he didn’t plan to leave. 

“Ah,” he put his hands on his knees to stand up.  “Lemme grab you a towel.”  

—

You were still a little shy to get completely nude in front of him, but you wanted him to see how far you’d come in trusting him and being comfortable. By now, you were confident in Joel’s genuine appreciation for your body and every part of you. 

You hung the robe on a hook on the wall, then stepped into the tub and sank into the water before he got back.  You felt less exposed that way.  

He put a stack of folded towels on the ledge behind the bath, then smoothed his hair with one hand.  You looked at him and admired his big, veiny hands and forearms.  

“How’s it feel?” he asked.  

“Better already,” you told him. 

“Good.”  His eyes sparkled as he admired your body through the water then met your gaze again.  “Want me to leave?”

You shook your head.  “No, but – do you have to be so. . .” you looked him up and down and his brows knitted in concern. “Dressed?”

His face relaxed, then he raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.  “You want me undressed?”

You nodded and he began to unbutton his shirt. You didn’t watch the whole time, letting your eyes drift to the window.  In a way, watching someone undress or dress felt more intrusive than seeing them naked.  He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, then neatly folded his shirt and jeans and set them on the bathroom counter. 

He asked,  “Better?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good,” he softly pinched your cheek. You wanted those strong arms around you more than anything, but you worried about your period. He was so neat and clean all the time that it was hard to imagine him willingly exposing himself to anyone else’s fluids.

“You could get in,” you offered. “Except for the blood,” you added apologetically. There was only a small diluted plume. 

He cracked a smile and looked at you with soft eyes.  “Blood don’t bother me, peaches,” he said. “Not one bit.” 

“Really?”  

“Not yours,” he clarified. 

“It’s not like regular blood, sometimes there-”

He interrupted softly,  “I know what a period is, darlin’. I’m almost sixty years old,” he chuckled. “Went to non-FEDRA school, too.” 

“Almost sixty?” It gave you a rush to hear and a rush to say. 

“If ya round up. That weird? Thought ya knew that, baby.” You knew he was in his late fifties. You celebrated his birthday at one of your last dinners. But somehow, hearing the number “sixty” was wild. 

“It’s not weird.”  You shook your head earnestly and suppressed a smile. It was flattering that Joel, with all that life experience, loved you. It was sexy, too. 

Joel sighed.  “So, am I cordially invited?” He eyed the water with a subtle smile, then he reached into the bath and gently caressed your lower abdomen.  “It’s natural, darlin’. It’s beautiful.” He gripped the side of the tub and leaned in for a kiss.  Then he pulled back and looked in your eyes.  “Every part of you is beautiful. I’m just sorry it hurts.”  

“Yeah,” you said. “Come on in.” 

—---------

He stood up and faced you, then took off his white t-shirt.  It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless in the daylight. He was weathered and tan.  Scarred and strong. Strong, but soft enough to be comfortable.  He dropped his boxers without shame.  You averted your gaze, but what you saw of him made you even more amazed at how big it could get.  You were flattered to have that effect.

You scooted forward to make room for Joel to get in behind you.  

“You want me there?” 

You wanted him everywhere, but you nodded.  He stepped into the tub behind you and braced himself on both sides as he moved his feet forward.  He settled in around you with a small splash, his thighs gently squeezing yours. He slid his huge hands under your arms to loosely embrace your torso then leaned back against the porcelain with a sigh, bringing you with him.  You could feel his soft package and hair against you. You tried to relax into him, and he kissed you on the head. 

He rested one of his hands on your lower belly.  “You know we got the other half’a that pill, too, if ya need it,” he muttered. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said.  “For everything.” 

He planted another kiss on your head.  “It’s my privilege, darlin’.” 

He held you in silence, softly stroking your sides.  Soon enough, you really relaxed back into him.  You focused on the rise and fall of his chest under your back.  You felt so attached to him, so in love with him you could cry.  Suddenly, the idea of not having him wrapped around you at any point in your life made it hard to enjoy when he was. You knew you were emotional.

—---

Joel’s breathing became so slow and regular that you thought he fell asleep. You glanced back to check, and he was wide awake.  

“Thought you fell asleep,” you whispered.

“No, darlin’.”  He kissed you on the cheek, then you caught him looking at the water and you followed his eyes, looking for anything embarrassing he could have noticed.  

He used two fingers to nudge your face back to look at him.  “I love you,” he said, then kissed you on the lips.  He whispered, “I dunno if I can ever show ya how much, but I’ll try.” 

“I love you, too,” you said and felt your eyes gathering tears. 

Joel sat up a little, concerned.  “What’s wrong, baby.” 

“I just wanna be with you forever,” you whimpered.  

“Well that’s what we’re gonna do, baby.” 

“Yeah, but. . .” 

His heart rate sped up against your back. 

“What if we can’t?” you asked. 

He sighed and hugged you reassuringly.  “Told ya there’s nothin’ in this world that can stop us bein’ together.”  Your arms and his were crossed in front of you.  He held both your hands, and kissed you on the head again. 

—---------------------------

You were quiet for a minute, but still thinking.  You asked, “What about when Bill and Frank get back?” 

He took in a chest full of air, lifting you on his stomach.  He released your hands as he exhaled. “What about it, darlin’.” 

“What if they — I mean, I guess I’ll go back — I’ll go back to our house, right?” 

Joel was quiet then asked softly but flatly, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you answered quickly. 

“Then why would ya?” He sounded more confused than hurt. 

“Cause they’re my family.” Your tears began to silently fall.

“Look, peaches.  I know you love’em, but you’re grown,  You make your own choices.”

“I know,” you agreed. 

“You decide who to be with. Ellie loves Riley. They’re a family now, the two of them. I shouldn’ta stopped her, right?” 

“Right,” you whispered.

“We’ll be our own family, darlin’. You and me.” 

Tears stopped up your nose and you sniffled, unsure if it could be that simple. “That’s what I want,” you whispered. 

“That’s what we’ll do,” he reassured you.   

“I just worry about, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s not the same as going off with someone my age.” 

“Ah,” Joel said. “You think they’d have a problem with it bein’ me.”

“I dunno, what do you think?” you asked him. 

“I sure hope not, but you know’em better, baby.”

You sighed and stared at the water.

Joel continued, “I hope they want you to be with who you love. But if they don’t, is that gonna stop ya?”

“I hope not.” 

“You . . .hope not?” His heart pounded under you. 

His voice became serious and less measured.  “It’s up to you and me, darlin’. We’re the ones who decide.  No one else.” 

You nodded, sighed, and wiped your eyes.  The tub squeaked under him as he shifted so you could look at each other. You met his eyes for a moment, and he brushed a tear off your cheek.  He brought a hand to cup your cheek.  You looked down and continued,  “I just don’t see how–” 

“Marry me, peaches.”  He said it softly, but it seemed to echo off the porcelain. Your heart went to your throat as you kept hearing it in your head. You stammered, “What?” and he just nodded. You asked, “How?”

“Marriage is just a decision.  It means we decide we’re our own family, just the two of us, and nothin’ can take us apart.”  

You softly gasped. “Joel. . . .” 

“Ain’t that just what we want?” You were still processing it when he asked again, “that’s what you want, right?” 

Your heart raced. You wanted it, you just didn’t see how it could be that simple. “Yeah, it’s what I want, but-”

“Then what’s the ‘but’ if bein’ together is all that matters?” 

You must have looked upset, because he became apologetic. “I’m sorry darlin’, I know it’s a lot, learnin’ how all this works.”  He cupped your cheek again. “I’m givin’ you my heart right now.” Looking into his eyes in that moment, feeling his skin on yours, you’d never been more sure of anything. 

You reassured him, “There’s no ‘but’. I’m giving you mine, too.” 

He closed his eyes and sighed.  When he opened them again, they were watery.  

“I’m gonna ask you again, and I’m serious.” 

“Okay,” 

“Will you marry me,” he said in a near-whisper. 

You looked from his eyes to his mouth and back and the how didn’t matter anymore.  You nodded.  “Yes,” you whispered.  “That’s what I want.”

He exhaled and choked on a tearful laugh of relief, then he nodded with you.  “I know it is, baby.” He kissed you long and soft on the lips.  “But it feels good to make it official.”  He wrapped his arms around you tight and kissed you on the head, then laid back against the tub, bringing you with him so you were both laid back, facing the faucet again.  

—--------

“So what now?” You asked.  “How do you make it official?”

“Well, I reckon it is, baby,” he said above your head.  Your heart jumped, and not in a bad way. It felt like you were in a good dream. 

He stroked your sides. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You asked, “We don’t have to do anything else?”

Joel sighed, then mused, “I reckon we could dress up nice and do somethin’ to celebrate.” 

“Like what?” You adjusted your position between his legs.

He lowered his voice. “Like whatever you want.” He brought his lips to your ear. “Whatever you really, really want.” Your clit twitched and you were unsure if the gush between your legs was blood or arousal.  You didn’t look to check. 

“Really?”

“If you’re ready.”

“Now?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow, if you’re feelin’ better?”

“Yeah. . .”

He kissed you on the cheek again, then you turned your head for your lips to meet his.  He pulled back to look at you and your tears of fear–fear of being without him–had been replaced by tears of relief.  Hearing his conviction and seeing it on his face, that was what you needed.  It was just a conversation, but somehow, it changed everything.  If no one could take you and Joel apart, and you felt like you had what you needed forever.  

He moved back to be fully behind you again and let you relax so you weren’t craning your neck to kiss him.  He sighed and his big hands roved your front, one of them coming to rest on your breast.  

His voice echoed hoarsely in the bathtub nook. “I love you, baby.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He pulled you closer into him and his cock twitched against your lower back.  “We’re gonna have a beautiful life together.”  

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Joel said, “As long as we’re together, that’s all we need, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. It felt too good to be true. 

—------------------

Joel held both your breasts with you lying back against him in the tub.  He palmed them over the waterline, then released the light pressure and used his palms to graze your nipples in light circles until they hardened. The desire that grew between your legs drowned out any echo of the cramps that led you into the bath.  

His other hand carefully slid down between your legs.  He fingered your floating curls, caressed your mound, then his whole hand cupped your bleeding seam. He used that hand to gently pull you into him and his manhood swelled against you.  Then he brought his hand up to your lower abdomen and lightly stroked your skin. “How ya feelin’?” he murmured. 

“So much better,” you said. 

“I can kiss it even better if ya want.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Course I don’t. . . if ya don’t want.” His cock jumped and he sighed.  “Let’s get ready for bed.  How ‘bout that.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded.  

“Wanna rest in bed a li’l bit?” His voice told you he didn’t want to rest.  

“Yeah,” you nodded.  Even if he wouldn’t be inside you that night, you finally knew when it would be.  It felt less cruel. 

Joel pushed himself up onto the ledge behind you, the firm tip of his cock grazing up your lower back, then stepped out onto the bath mat.  He tied a towel around himself, leaving a significant tent, then held out a hand. You held onto him for balance as you stepped out, and he wrapped a towel around you.  You dried yourself off, then bundled up in the bath robe.  Joel grabbed another towel from the linen closet on his way out of the restroom.

“Just the nightgown, baby. Nothin’ else.” 

While you were upstairs changing, he dried himself off, combed his hair, got dressed for bed, and laid a towel out on the comforter.   

—--------

Joel was sitting on the side of the bed in his boxers and t-shirt when you walked in wearing just the nightgown. He opened his arms for you, and you stood between his knees.  He held your hands and just looked at you for a few seconds, taking in all of you. His eyes watered.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he wrapped his hands around your ass and buried his face between your breasts.  He looked up at you and his eyes were still sparkling when he said, “So, so beautiful.” He guided you to lie down on the towel.

He kneeled on the bed, nudged your knees apart, and got between your legs.  He lifted your nightgown up and planted a kiss on your mound, then your clit, before hovering over your body and putting his arms down on either side of your abdomen.  He lowered himself as close as possible while being careful not to put any pressure where he thought you might be hurting. At that point, you were only aching for him. 

He gave you a deep, long kiss on the lips then kissed each of your breasts and let his hips lay into the bed between your legs. It all started gentle, but he was overtaken by lust. He dipped his head to suck your neck, and as he dragged his lips down your chest, his eyes closed and his brows knitted together.   

He lowered your nightgown under your breasts.  His jaw flexed as he sucked the bottom of your breast, and a brush of his nose hardened your nipple. 

Your back arched and your whole body erupted in goosebumps.  He moaned into your skin as he sucked one breast and palmed the other.  His ass flexed as his hips rocked into the bed.  You wished his hips were rocking into you instead.  You wrapped your legs around him and your knees under his arms urged him up toward you.  “Joel, please.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, darlin’.”   

“You’re not gonna.” You tried to pull him up more urgently, dying for his loins against yours. He read your face and cracked half a smile. You must have looked so desperate. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered and let you pull him just where you wanted him. Oh god, the wave of arousal his hardness sent through your body.

“Can you take off your clothes,” you whispered. 

He wordlessly slipped out of his t-shirt and boxers and the sight of his erection made you weak.  He let you wrap your legs around him and pull him into you again. His hard cock met your mound. He sighed at the skin-to-skin contact and a look of pain spread over his face.  He lowered himself more, pressing his arousal against you, nudging your clit.  You whimpered as a bolt of need shot through your already weeping core. 

“I’m ready,”  you said.  “I want you inside me.” 

“Almost,” he replied. “Tomorrow, remember?”

You groaned in frustration.  “Is it because of my period?”

“Course not, baby.”  He kissed his way down your stomach and put your thighs over his shoulders.  He planted a kiss on your clit, then licked into your seam.  He moaned and prodded your entrance with his tongue, then swirled it around your clit, his hips rocking into the mattress again.  He let one leg down and fingered you before devouring you with his mouth again. You could feel it building in your belly, but it wasn’t how you wanted to come.  You wanted to feel him. 

“Come back,” you whined.  “Please. I wanna feel you against me, like the first time you made me come.”  He slid his fingers out of you, and tore his mouth away, wiping both on his discarded boxers.  

He held his cock as he looked at your body with heavy eyelids. He got in position between your legs, swiped the head of his cock through your slick, and laid his shaft onto your mound.  He leaned forward, kissed you deeply and the stiffness of his arousal was hot against your skin.  You throbbed as he began to grind against you. You ached to be filled by him.  Only one more day, but it felt too long. 

He swiped his cock between your legs to get it wet again, and he hesitated with the swollen head at your entrance.  “Ohh, baby,” he sighed, lingering with his tip right there, where only a push of his hips would do it. 

Your whole body went weak as it tried to suck him in.  

You asked, “Can you try it, just a little bit?” 

“Oh, darlin’,” he groaned.  He shook his head no, then brought his tip back above your clit. His cock slid hard and wet against you.  

“Please Joel,” you begged.  “To make sure I'm ready.”  You held his arms with both hands. "Tomorrow can’t be perfect if I’m not ready."

He laughed softly.  “You want it that bad, don’t ya.”

He leaned over you and kissed your head, then your lips.  Once again, he gathered your wetness with the tip of his cock, making your walls twitch. He pressed the tip firmly against your most sensitive place and exhaled raggedly as you throbbed against him.  He used his tip to massage your swollen clit.  Your chest swelled with a sigh and arch of your back.  He closed his eyes and groaned,  and the distress on his face told you he was hanging onto his last shred of restraint.

“Put it in, just a little,” you whispered.  

“Just a little,” he finally agreed. 

—----

He put your knees up a little bit, then aligned his body over yours and nudged your entrance with the head of his cock.  It felt so right.  You’d never wanted anything as bad as you wanted him.  He pushed the curve of his tip in just far enough to stay notched there as he hovered over you with both arms on the bed. The crown still wasn’t breaching your walls, but when he looked down at you and pushed a little further, you felt a slight burn with the stretch.   

“How’s it feel,” he asked.  

“G, g, good,” you whimpered. “So good.” 

He laughed silently at how much was left to go. 

“Am I ready enough? Can you tell?”

“Let’s see, baby.”  He slowly pushed his hips forward, giving you his entire massive tip and you groaned. It felt even better than you imagined. 

“Just a little more,” you whined. 

He pushed a smidgen further.  The stretch felt like you were being spread open and made into something else, something combined with him. You felt your face contorting and your spine arched with the beautiful stretch. “Oh Joel,” you gasped. “I—it-”

“Breathe, baby.” 

He brought his hips back ever so slightly, then moved it in and out of you in small, shallow pulses.  It felt so right, your eyes welled up in tears. 

“That’s all, baby,” he whispered. “That’s all for now,” but he kept doing it, pushing just slightly in and out of you. You watched his arms flex and his face twist as he kept giving you the tip. 

“Ah,” He bit his lip as he gently fucked you with his tip. “Oh God, I wanna–ohh,” he cut himself off with a groan, then sighed, "wanna stuff my whole self inside ya baby." 

“Please do it,” you begged. “please-”

“Oh, fuck—"

"Don't stop-”

“-i, i–i gotta”  He groaned, then pulled out.  He held his cock while he lifted his knees to straddle you and press your thighs together.  Then he slid his cock between your thighs, right up against your folds.  He thrust into your thighs just twice and came, slowly moving it back and forward, painting your folds with his warm seed.  “Feel–feel too good, baby.”

The pulsation of his cock sent you for your own orgasm. You gasped and writhed and whimpered his name as you came against his cock.  You were hugging his cock so tight, your pulsations beating into each other’s loins so hard. 

He lowered his weight onto you as you both finished. Then he got on his side next to you. 

"I want you to do that inside me " you told him. 

He dipped his fingers between your legs, into his cum.

"Want me to fill ya up with that?" 

"Yeah."

"Leave it inside ya?" 

"Yeah."

He whistled silently, then murmured, "can't wait to, baby."  His face was pink and his temples glistened. 

He kissed you on the lips, then you laid in silence for a minute. 

You sighed and said, "that felt really good, being full of you like that."

"Ohh, darlin'," he laughed. "''m afraid ya don't know what full means." He read your eyes, kissed you tenderly, then whispered, "Yet." 

You bit your lip, then he kissed you again. 

“I’ll run the shower for ya.”  Joel went to the bathroom and the water turned on in the standing shower. 

You followed him, and as he checked the water temperature you asked,  “Am I gonna have your last name?” 

“I reckon ya do,” he said and planted a kiss on your lips. 

—-----------

After your shower, you got dressed for bed again, and Joel asked you to sleep with him.  He dozed off quickly, but you didn’t.  You were too excited.  Once you did drift off, you slept light.

In the middle of the night, you heard a vehicle and urgently woke Joel up. He didn't hear it.

“I swear, Joel,” you insisted, but it stopped. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you. “Just a dream.”  

He held you and kissed you until your heart rate slowed and you drifted off to the feeling of his breathing. 

—----------

PSA. 💒 According to Joel, they're married now. They just are, that's all there is to it. Only thing left to do is "celebrate" 🍆

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

THANK YOU sooo much for reading and engaging!! I appreciate your comments, discussion, sharing, and reblogs so much, I can't even tell you. Especially when I get labeled so quickly so often. I love you guys! I see you in the wild and I'm like, aw I love them.

And if you're new - I also have another dbf!Joel series, non-horror, but still somewhat of a twist (Trouble AU) at the top of my joel master list. The master list also has a virgin section lol.

-----------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot

@gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[valeriianz]

for the blossoming romance prompts, either 14 (looking at their lips while they talk), 19 (talking late into the night), and/or 27 (sharing an umbrella/coat/blanket, etc) for dreamling!!

i chose "looking at their lips while they talk" tags: human au, hard of hearing Dream, hurt/comfort

--------

Dream is always staring at Hob’s lips whenever he speaks.

It’s something Hob has gotten used to… or so he tries to convince himself. Dream is hard of hearing– not quite deaf, though his hearing is deteriorating. He’d met Dream like this, after his hearing loss began so, without really having to explain why, Hob was able to roll with it– with how Dream has always relied on reading lips.

It did become harder– watching Dream’s gaze drop to his mouth– once Hob realized he had developed a crush on his friend.

Nothing ever prepared him for those deeply crystalline eyes to focus on his lips, even during the most banal of conversations. Hob’s pulse would skip and jump, faltering over his words and laughing at himself sometimes. He wondered what Dream was thinking, during those moments when he would stammer and stutter over a sentence for seemingly no reason. It certainly made conversation drag on a little longer, Dream often having to ask Hob to repeat himself with a patient, almost coy smile.

Or– lord help him– if they were in a dark place like a backyard bonfire or a bar, Dream would lean in close, his face scrunching adorably as he tried to understand the conversation happening around him, and Hob would have to speak directly into Dream’s good ear, a hand cupped over it, like he was telling him a secret.

“I can’t hear a thing in this place,” Dream groused in Hob’s ear, both of them leaning against the bar and surrounded by minimal lights and thumping bass lines.

Hob leaned into Dream’s space, the man automatically turning his head to catch his voice.

“Let’s get out of here, then.” Hob’s lips brushed the shell of Dream’s ear and Hob was just drunk enough to not apologize over it, but the brief contact set his skin on fire regardless.

They soon found themselves walking along the waterfront, the temperature dropping in the cool night air and a breeze kicking up to match the waves on the water. Dream tugged on his jacket before stuffing his hands in its pockets, knocking his head back as he took a deep breath, tasting the city air. Hob watched fondly, the street lights they passed under giving Dream’s skin an orange glow, warm and inviting, and he had an easy expression on, the quiet hour giving him some reprieve.

Neither of them spoke, which Hob sometimes preferred… After knowing Dream for nearly a year now, he’d gotten used to these quiet moments, happy to just enjoy each other’s company. Hob liked that the most about Dream, how he was able to find solace and comfort in the silence, rather than feeling the need to fill it with small talk.

It’s late so there aren’t many people out among the scattered benches and picnic tables, as they are properly walking now into a rest area which usually would be bustling in the daytime. Vendors around them closed for the evening or just breaking down.

They come up to one that still looks open, a chalkboard sign boasting snacks like hot dogs and tater tots. Hob slows and points out the open and lit up stall.

“Food?”

Dream’s gaze sweeps over to the sign, his brows lifting in interest and he nods, turning with Hob as they approach the counter.

Unfortunately they no longer have food, the person behind the stall informs sadly, but they are still serving alcohol. With a sideways glance at Dream, Hob gives in and orders a night cap, and Dream follows suit.

So, here’s a funny thing. Hob watches Dream discuss their cider list with the cashier, and his eyes flick down maybe once or twice during the conversation. And, maybe it’s difficult to tell while he’s not facing Dream, but Hob could swear Dream doesn’t have his gaze affixed to other people’s lips while in conversation with them.

Hob of course has no idea how much Dream really relies on reading lips– how the whole interpretation works for him, matching lip movements to the words… but Hob could swear that he never needs to hyper focus on people’s mouths; he always seems to get along just fine without prolonged eye-to-mouth contact.

In fact, now that he is tipsy enough to overthink, Hob is certain Dream hadn’t always stared at his lips. Hob had naively always attributed that to his hearing declining… but that didn’t make sense, as again, Dream never needed to stare for very long when in conversation with literally anyone else. 

Drinks paid for, Hob and Dream walk a little out of the way of the path, finding a bench in a patch of grass and collapsing onto it with matching sighs.

Hob slowly sipped his beer and Dream, from his cider, staring out at the lit up skyline beyond the water. The windows in the skyscrapers were high and far away enough that they resembled stars, reflecting off the water too. It was pretty, Hob always preferred the city when the sun went down. 

Dream did, too. Much of their experience together was shared after hours.

Hob stares at Dream’s profile, how he can somehow still see his long lashes even in the limited light, the point of Dream’s nose, his devastating jawline that Hob has fantasized pressing his lips to, cupping it with his hand, nudging his nose along until he was in Dream’s sooty hair. He wanted to know what it felt like, to tangle his fingers in that hair, comb through it lovingly and also pull it just to hear what sounds Dream would make if he did so, exposing the line of his throat so Hob could latch his mouth onto it. 

Taking a deep breath, Hob set his drink down on the space next to him, and tapped Dream on the shoulder.

Dream turns, his expression curious and only a little faded, muddled from alcohol, though Hob swore Dream had less to drink than him.

Hob’s pulse kicks up once he realizes what he’s about to ask. He licks his lips and doesn’t miss how Dream’s eyes flit down to catch the movement.

“Why are you always staring at my mouth?”

Dream’s brows pinch, looking back up at Hob’s eyes with a patient stare.

“Because I need to?”

“No, why are you always… staring at my mouth.”

Dream doesn’t need to. Hob is certain of it. And Dream tenses up, his own lips parting silently, his gaze sweeping sideways.

After a beat, Hob panics. He hadn’t meant to put Dream on the spot, or make him feel awkward. He shifts to be just a smidge closer.

“I mean, is the way I speak difficult? Do I have some sort of lisp I’m not aware of?” Hob tries to joke, to lighten the mood, to brush off the question like it wasn’t aimed at Dream. 

Dream doesn’t even look at Hob while he speaks, continuing to stare into the middle distance, turning the tin can in his hold around and around.

Finally, Dream sighs, his shoulders going with it as he turns to bodily face Hob, planting one foot on the bench and almost curling around his bent knee pressed against his chest.

“I’m going deaf…”

A sudden lump appears in Hob’s throat at the quiet, defeated way Dream speaks, his eyes downcast, staring at his drink.

“Figured I was, obviously,” Dream takes a breath, tapping a finger on the rim of the can now. “It's genetic, doctors think. No cure yet. My hearing is just…” he waves a hand around his head. “... deteriorating. Fast. I’ll lose it completely in my left ear within the next five years, and then my right will surely go soon after.”

Hob swallows hard, his throat clicking at the tightness in his throat.

Dream looks up and Hob feels his eyes burn at how watery and red Dream’s usual clear, blue eyes are. 

“It sucks,” Dream proclaims with a choked off laugh, averting his gaze again. “No more music, no more podcasts… soon I won’t be able to hear the sound of my own voice…” his gaze tentatively slips back to Hob’s. “... or yours.”

Hob’s lips part, butterflies now twisting his stomach into knots.

“So I’ve been…” Dream’s eyes rove over Hob’s face, as if searching for the words. “... trying to memorize the sound of your voice.” He gives another broken laugh, his chin dipping to his chest.

“The way your lips move is unique, it helps carry your accent.” He pulls his head back up, resting it on his bent knee. “The way your tongue curls around vowels, the way you putter and stammer sometimes, it creates a profile, and I can attribute the sound of every letter to the way your mouth forms the words.”

Hob is speechless, a complicated mix of euphoria and sadness swirling around within him. 

He must take a moment too long to sit on what Dream has just admitted, because Dream’s face falls, apprehension marring his beautiful features.

“Say something,” Dream whispers, his brows going up.

Hob can’t say anything. His pulse is racing and his throat is clogged with emotion. So instead he leans forward, gets his hands– which shake slightly– on either side of Dream’s face, and kisses him.

Dream gasps loudly against Hob’s lips before kissing back, shooting electricity down Hob’s spine, all the way to his feet and back up, clinging now to Dream and pulling him closer.

Hob parts for air and kisses Dream again and again, lips-only, but he can somehow still taste the honey sweetness of him, can smell it on his breath and feel it under his touch. One of Dream’s hands knots in the front of Hob’s sweater, yanking him closer still, holding on as Hob’s lips trail up Dream’s jaw– softer than it looks– peppering kisses along the way.

Dream breathes harshly into his ear, wet and raw, tucking his head into the crook of Hob’s neck, and goes still. Hob holds him there, one hand going around the back of his head while the other finds his hand on his sweater and disentangles it to hold instead.

Hob listens as Dream breathes deeply, collecting himself, his other hand coming up around Hob’s shoulder and just… holding on.

Nothing needs to be said, though Hob’s mind is swimming with words, but he keeps them in, opting to shut his eyes and feel the warmth of Dream around him, caressing his pointy knuckles and combing his fingers through Dream’s hair. This is enough for now, holding on, knowing they have time after this.

And Hob has always enjoyed the silence they shared.

part 2!

[elastica1995]

a very large tree branch downed the powerline behind my house. the rain put the fire out eventually but our house and 4 other houses on our side of the street don't have power afaik. comed didn't pick up when we called because they had evacuated for the weather. swag. so anyway. life is so funny.

oh the power line is fully down. and the bushes behind my house are definitely on fire.

[unholyhelbig]

https://www.tumblr.com/unholyhelbig/748001277238181888/ive-reread-the-entirety-of-oversight-again-and

i’ve done this as well. i think u should 😌😏😉☺️🥰

Title: Rose Colored Glasses [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): injury to nose & foot, slight blood, and shrimp

[a/n: Did someone request more oversight? Because I've got you covered. This is pure fluff, sorry for the lack of angst! It's short, and sweet, and not proof read because I don't have time :( ]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A quiet house was never a good sign. Growing up in the foster care system teeming with other wards of the state had taught you that. Often, you were three or four to a room. There were bunk beds with sheets slotted against the ceiling or stuffed under the mattress above your own, just for some type of barrier. It was an illusion of privacy, most of the time. Because houses like that were never quiet.

When you’d moved in across from Darcy after your 18th birthday, things weren’t quiet. Above you was a Latin-American couple that would wait until just past midnight to turn on a slow, rhythmic song and dance. Their steps were soft, and calculated. They carved out time for one another every single night between shifts. Just for the two of them. You often let the thumping base lull you to sleep.

The city was just outside your window. In the summer, you could prop it open with a brick and let the sounds of cars become a backdrop. There were sirens, and when the fire hydrant on the corner was loosened, the world welcomed a cold blast of water, sprinkling into the street. That was the opposite of quiet. That made your chest feel light, and warm.

After marrying Natasha Romanoff, you settled into the loudness of her home. Your home. Veronica was constantly running around the twists and turns of the bottom floor, Clint or Kate or Darcy galloping after her with a big smile on their face. They slowed themselves to make sure they didn’t break anything, but they wanted her to win, too.

Yelena often came with the muffled sounds of Russian techno bands coming from the headphones around her neck. It was a staple to find her in the kitchen with her head down, slicing into an apple from the backyard with precision unknown. Natasha would tug the headphones off to get her attention, or to send her into annoyance.

The night that Natasha got hurt was stifled with the sound of rain. It had soaked you to the bone, dripping onto the linoleum floor and then the carpet as you ascended the stairs two at a time. You’d been at the docks later than usual, the storm that had plagued the side of the harbor was relentless and delayed shipments.

The captain of the shipping boat your family had utilized for decades wanted to discuss something over whatever crap coffee you could beat out of the machine in your office. He spoke with a thick southern drawl, his mustache was encrusted with salt and sand. You had shed your coat and tried to warm yourself up by hugging your mug to your chest. Nothing seemed to work.

While you weren’t opposed to giving the man a raise, you were not the final say. Natasha was, and you figured he could use the company more than anything. The captain flicked through books that were on the shelf, taking two or three for his next journey out to sea. It was like clockwork with him, and you indulged his need for quiet companionship each time.

When your phone rang, you never looked at the caller ID. Those who were privileged enough to get your number knew to talk without any of the pleasantries that they were used to. Clint’s voice came through the receiver in a smooth, hushed tone that made you believe he wasn’t supposed to be calling you in the first place.

“Look, y/n, there’s been an… incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

He was meant to escort her to one of the many cocktail parties that Carlos LaMuerto was throwing at his mansion that bordered the same body of water that you resided on now. They were lovely get-togethers that you often attended with your wife. This, however, was the fourth one this month and your stomach was turning at the idea of another cocktail shrimp and lamb pate.

Clint had offered, seeing the desperation in your eyes. And while Natasha was reluctant, she ultimately agreed. No news of a bust had reached you yet, nor had a gun blazing argument. While the Captain licked his dry lips and scanned the books in front of him, you continued in hushed tones.

“Nat’s hurt. It’s not a big deal, you can finish up your business. She’s just being stubborn is all.”

An escaped sigh “I’ll be there.”

No shit, she was being stubborn. Your wife was bull-headed and wouldn’t admit to the smallest defeat. It eased your nerves slightly, and only slightly, that Clint said it wasn’t a big deal. No gunshot to the back, or knife to the throat. It wasn’t good enough, however.

Natasha would be upset that you tracked mud into the house and left your boots sloshing by the door. You were panting by the time you reached the double doors that led to your bedroom. They were, of course, blocked by Clint and Kate. Yelena was leaning lazily against the railing that was parallel. She regarded you with an uninterested stare.

“You did not have to come here.” She said, “We’ve got it handled.”

“She kicked all of you out, didn’t she?”

“What? She certainly did not!”

Yelena’s voice pitched with her lie. Kate’s cheeks turned an off-shade of pink and Clint just rthe hallway, that was a good sign. Still, neither of the two moved to let you into your own room.

“If you’re not going to get out of the way, can you at least tell me what happened?”

There was a muffled reply from behind the door. With the way that the voice flitted, you knew that she was trapped on the bed. Otherwise, she would have leveled you with a glare right here and now. The words were simple “Do it, you die.”

“Oh, come on,” You whispered harshly, turning your attention to Kate instead. She was the easiest to break. “Katie, what is the harm in letting me through? I’m going to catch my death if I stay in these clothes.”

“Catch your death?” Clint scoffed “What are you? A poet from the 1800’s?”

“I’m about to be breaking your fingers if you don’t-“

“You can’t even break wind,”

The two of your voices combined as you kept at it. You didn’t’ miss the wary look that Kate shot Yelena. One way or another, you’d get into your room. You refused to be banished to the couch again, especially in wet clothes. If you had to threaten ruining the rugs with your muddy footprints, so be it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You held up both of your hands, silencing the chaos of the corridor. “Nat, you are my wife, you’re hurt. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming in. Does anyone have any objections?”

Kate went to raise her hand, but Yelena yanked it back down and shook her head no. You tore into Clint with a look that could drop him dead. He relented and stepped away from the door. While you had a moment of peace, you walked into the dark of the room. She’d turned out the lights, save for the half-moon that showed a pale pattern against the carpet.

When you reached for the light switch on the wall, Natasha let out a noise that was similar to a wounded animal. You halted, your actions and made out her form on the bed. She was folded in on herself, her silhouette rigid.

“Baby,” you cooed, closing the distance between you and the bed. She grunted again, this time in pain. She attempted to turn away from you. You lowered yourself onto the sliver of bed, approaching the situation softly. “Can I turn on a light?”

“No, I’m hideous.”

You chuckled softly “I highly doubt that, my love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Natasha had never liked being vulnerable around you. It had taken a full weekend of you nursing her back to her feet after the incident on the pier for her to let herself cry. You held her for hours, her nose pressed against the small of your neck. She’d gripped onto you, as if you’d leave. But you never would.

Eventually, you saw her shadow nod. Before she could change her mind, you flicked on the lamp on the side table. It didn’t’ have a far reach, but the light was less harsh on the both of you. It was impossible not to notice the blood that had dried against Natasha’s nose, a split right down the middle.

You’d seen her with broken bones before, bruises that wrapped around her midsection. You’d put ace bandage around her ribs after drawing her a bath. This was nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, she often saw them as battle scars that would heal in a pink gash.

Her foot was wrapped up with a bag of peas and one of frozen carrots that Clint, or even Yelena had situated. There was bruising around her ankle, it looked painful and you internally winced at the coloring. She groaned into the small of her elbow.

“I want to die”

“Natty, it’s okay. This is nothing a cozy weekend inside can’t fix.”

She said something that was quiet and muffled by her arm. You didn’t understand her one bit, but she squeezed a single tear from her eye that you wiped away dutifully before it could reach the silk of sheets.

“What was that, baby?” You asked gently.

She threw both of her hands down and glared at the ceiling. Her fingers eventually found yours, squeezing your palm in reflex. Her words came out in a quick breath, “I tripped over a carpet at the stupid dinner party and hit my face on the catering table.”

You were effectively silenced. That was very un-Natasha. But lately, you and Clint had been pestering her about her eyesight, especially at night. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear. In fact, each time you brought up the idea of glasses, she would effectively silence you with a glare, or even a kick to the shin under the kitchen table if you had company.

You bit the inside of your cheek and ran your thumb over her hand. She clutched your hand tighter. Now was certainly not the time to laugh, and while you fought back the initial giggle, you were more concerned about your wife.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I bet you got right back up.” You said, pressing your palm against her cheek. “None of those fancy party types would dare question your influence on this city.”

“Shrimp went flying everywhere.” Natasha pouted.

“Everyone was tired of shrimp anyway, even the shrimp.”

She grasped at the collar of your jacket and pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips against your own. They were warm, the warmest thing that you’ve felt since getting caught in the passing storm. You were careful not to lean on her ribs, breathing in the rosewater scent of her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, running a hand up your spine. She grimaced. “You’re all wet.”

“Well now I am,” You smirked against her jawline, leaving a little nip in your wake. “You need to get glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re getting the sheets all damp, and you smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to the exposed part of her neck. You felt Natasha laugh too, using her hands to cover her face from the blush that was blooming against her cheeks. “We’re talking about me?”

She laughed harder, attempting to shove you off but you let your body go slack against her, not using your arms to hold yourself up anymore. “Yes! Go shower!”

“Mm, but you’re so warm.”

“You’re not going to be warm if I make you sleep on the couch.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling your head off her stomach and meeting her dark green stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. After the day I’ve had, I refuse to sleep next to my wife when she smells like a marina.”

Even while she said it, her voice was gentle, her fingers working over your scalp to brush the wet hair from your eyes. You pulled yourself up to give her another peck on the lips, careful to avoid the split nose and busted ankle.

“Fine, but only because you need more aspirin.”

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t believe I let you through my defenses.”

“Uh-huh. Get some rest. I’m going to go talk to your defenses about getting you an appointment with an optometrist.”

You turned to move towards the bathroom, already craving the warmth of a shower and some clean pajamas. Two steps from the doorway and you felt a plush throw pillow hit you directly on the back of the head. Natasha had amazing aim, always had, and always would.

You bent down and picked up the gold upholstered pillow, giving her a faux glare. “You’re not getting this back.”

“Oh, come on, baby.” She stuck out her lower lip “I have to prop up my foot.”

“You should have thought of that before you launched it at my head.”

 [Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[naomikozura]

Playing with Fire: Prologue

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: strong language, harassment, fraud, abandonment, bullying, mention of violence, poverty, mention of kidnapping (mentioned as a worry), (Let me know if I missed any!)

WC: 5.9K

Summary: Weak, poor, bottom of the barrel, that's all you'll ever be. Forced to live a life on the street only to be swept away and for some reason have the odds of meeting Gotham's most infamous Vigilante's sidekick.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Prologue

The nights this year had gotten colder than they had been the past few years. There had been something that went around Gotham the past few weeks, the sense of fear had risen the past few months, there hasn’t been anything you were more sure of. It seemed that crime rates had gone down this holiday season and that could probably be thanks to the amazing duo that was making more appearances as of late. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so safe in this horrid city.

The skyline seems to illuminate the city in a beautiful way, especially since the city seemed to die down so it was the only sign of life during the late hours of the night. You looked over the skyline and wondered if there could be a day you could afford to live in one of those beautiful buildings, to not move around from backyard to backyard or sneaking into hotels just to have a place to sleep at night.

It wasn’t easy being completely alone in a city like this, especially not as a 14 year old, it was absurd and dangerous. You had to find your own means to survive and more times than not, it was not the easiest thing to do. Staying up all night out of fear of being abducted, or spending afternoons going hungry, or not being able to sneak your clothes into the washers at the laundromat. You could find ways to keep up your appearances to make it seem like you weren’t at the absolute bottom of what was Gotham City, but in the end, that was exactly what you were.

Bottom of the barrel. A nobody.

You grabbed the small bag that was next to you and found your way to the door that led to the top of the building. Opening it, and going down the stairs, you managed to grab a key to one of the rooms in the hotel from the maids that were on the fifth floor. You had a way of perfecting the art of scamming your way into hotels so that you didn’t have to spend the night on the street or in someone’s backyard during the cold months of the year. Gotham seemed to bring in as much snow as New York does every year and being outside when the weather was at freezing level wasn’t something you were exactly looking forward to for the third year in a row.

You slid the key into the slot and pushed the door open. Setting down your belongings on the bed, you laid back and let out a breath, letting yourself relax in a way you hadn’t been able to in a long time. You grabbed the dirty clothes and put them into the small washing machine that was inside the unit and stripped down the current clothes you were wearing so you’d be able to shower. Having a limited wardrobe was nice, you never had to struggle on what to wear but also sucked since you wore the same exact thing every single day.

You let the warm water run down your body, your hair becoming damp from the stream that was hitting it. It felt nice to be able to shower and not worry about the cruelties happening outside for once, at least for tonight you could pretend you weren’t some street kid with no future.

The past three years were difficult for you. After you ran away from the orphanage, you found yourself on the streets of Gotham, fending for yourself and doing anything possible to just survive. You found ways to scam hotels by stealing key cards and sneaking into the hotel offices just to ‘access’ the system to book your room under someone rich in Gotham so that you couldn’t be caught sneaking in. It took about two years to truly perfect the art but it became muscle memory after a while. You hadn’t been caught since. Now, you had a flash drive you'd stolen that could connect to the computers and automatically do the work for you.

You felt the hot water burn on your skin in a satisfying way, something that seemed to be a luxury for you. It wasn’t often you could come in and be able to shower since your hotel scams could only be used so often to avoid being caught. You turned the water off and stepped out, you started drying your hair and decided to turn on the TV for a while, the first channel being the Gotham City News.

You turned the volume up and continued to dry your hair, taking your clothes and putting them in the dryer, only leaving you in your undergarments and a robe that was in the suite. The news rambled a lot over politics and the businessmen in Gotham but you could care less really, especially since the majority of the millionaires didn’t care about anyone beneath them, especially not people like you.

You heard the main reporter start bringing up the same headline, the masked vigilante in black and his perfect little sidekick. Your eyes looked back at the TV to see blurry photos of the two standing on a building, off guard, but it still felt posed. You felt a sort of resentment towards the two, but also an unexplainable trust in them. They helped keep Gotham safe, but you wondered if they truly cared about the little people in Gotham, like you or any other orphan.

You turned the TV off before getting into bed and falling asleep, hoping tomorrow would bring a new beginning to your seemingly repetitive life. You wish you could just disappear, never be seen again. Get on a plane and just disappear.

For now, the thought can only be alive in your head, hoping one day it could become a reality for you.

The streets buzzed with life, businessmen taking their morning commutes to the downtown estates and taxis flooding the streets causing traffic for all the early morning people. It wasn’t rare to see people rushing to get to work and finish out the week before going off to their second lives on the streets and nightclubs in Gotham. Businessmen in speakeasies cheating on their wives, city officials betting money on illegal races or gambling with their lives for an adrenaline high. That was all this city was built on, the rush, the gamble of life. People cared too much about money, power, drugs, sex, and getting to be as secular as possible. The gamble was worth it all in the end.

It wasn’t a secret to those on the streets that these people were in connections with the powerful drug lords in Gotham. The only people who seemed to turn a blind eye were the actual people who could maintain a regular schedule, no one below them could give a fuck about what truly happened during Gotham’s day to day, it was at night that everything would come out. Skeletons would be pushed into the open, the ghosts of the past, strenuous addictions, and life ending secrets. The night life of Gotham would bring out even the toughest of peoples’ true selves.

You walked down the street down to downtown, hoping to find some new clothes at a small shop that was decently cheap for Gotham’s standards. You couldn’t stand the swarms of people that came and went, pretentious high profile rats who dressed in fancy clothes to put up an act for the outside world. You were sick of dealing with people who acted like they were better than everyone. You wish you could meet a normal person, just one.

You walked past some of the buildings and made it to the center of downtown and walked by a group of people who were leaning on the walls by the alley, reeking of cigarette smoke, who decided today would be the day to test your patience.

“Hey, little girl, wanna give us a smile?”, one of the gross looking men said.

They wore suits and had their hair nicely done, just another typical businessman in this wretched city. You kept walking, hoping they would leave you alone.

“Hey, don’t you hear us talking to you?”, another one barked out, grabbing your arm and turning you around.

“Get your filthy hands off of me.”, you bit back.

Although you lived on the streets, you always managed to find ways to keep up with your personal hygiene. Scamming hotels was the only way that was possible, and you knew your appearance would attract attention. You knew you caught men's attention, you were a young female living in a city full of pretentious, uptight, privileged people.

“Oh, come on, loosen up sweetheart. We just wanna see that beautiful smile”

“And I said, get your filthy fucking hand off of me!”, you pulled your hand, hoping to get it out of his grip. You weren’t strong, you were intelligent, sly but physically strong enough to fight a guy twice your size and age was a whole other story.

“Stop being such a bitch, you aren’t pretty enough to be talking to us that way, cunt.”, the guy grabbing you said, the shit you had to deal with was revolting.

Your heart was beating in your chest, you hadn’t ever been grabbed like this before, you didn’t know exactly how to react to this situation other than trying to come off as rude as possible. You knew there wasn’t a way to get out of this situation other than hoping you had enough energy to run for your life.

You pulled your arm back, quickly, punching the guy in the nose, ducking under the other two guys’ arms and running out of the alley they pulled you into. You heard them yell and try to go after you. You didn’t look back and kept running, crossing the street and hearing the passing taxis honking and cursing at you. You bumped into people but kept going until you made it to the other side of the city. Your lungs were burning in your chest, you had ran for 20 minutes without stopping and you felt exhausted.

You looked up and noticed you found your way to one of the schools in the area. You saw the engraving on the stone plate outside, Gotham Academy.

You saw the students inside socializing, a tug in your chest, wishing you could have a normal life like that. They had rich parents, everything they could ever ask for, and yet, that was something you could never have. You tried catching your breath and you heard a voice next to you.

You turned around and looked at the courtyard. A guy, who was a bit taller than you, held out a water bottle.

“Need some water?”, you stared at him, unsure if you should accept the offer. Your trust issues seemed to always win over the internal debate between who to trust and who to avoid.

“No.” you said sharply.

“You just seem out of breath, so I figured it might help.”, he continued.

You looked at him, then down at the bottle. You ignored him and picked your bag off the floor, and started to walk away.

“Hey!” you heard him yell, couldn’t he just leave it?

“I said no”, you turned around and were met with his chest. You looked up slightly, his eyes looking into yours, green eyes, to be exact.

“No, that’s fine, but uh, you have a bruise on your arm.”, you looked at the evident bruise, you pulled your sleeve down to try and cover it and found yourself growing self-conscious.

“It'll heal.”, you answered lamely.

You turned and kept walking, ignoring the boy who, for some reason, found you pitiful enough to try and give you charity. You weren’t a charity case and you refused to let some pretentious, rich pretty boy try and help you. Your dignity refused to let you.

You couldn’t help but feel like the whole world was out to get you. Maybe it was trauma, maybe it was distrust, regardless you wanted to rely on no one and be your own person.

You decided the path of isolation a long time ago, and there would not be anything to stop you.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, you got caught at one of the hotels by the staff and decided to make a run for it but ended up getting tackled by one of the cops that had been on duty resulting in a bloody nose and a sprained ankle. They had called the GCPD to come in to take you to the precinct since you were a minor. You were asked some questions and were enrolled into a foster care program.

You felt a kick in your stomach, going to a pity family was the last thing you wanted, but you figured you could benefit from it. You spent the majority of the past three months in the foster shelter, later, a high class family took you in, claiming they wanted to help you, but you knew this would all be to make themselves look good in front of the other elite families in Gotham.

You were taken in a limousine, a black vehicle that would be worth twenty times anything you could ever dreamed of owning. The couple showed you to your room inside the manor, the family butler placing a new change of clothing and a robe on the bed.

You couldn’t help but feel anger dwelling inside of you, or the spitefulness of having someone take you in just to give themselves a charitable outlook. You would be known as the street orphan who got adopted by the rich and noble elite in hopes to provide a better life for them. It was pitiful, it was aggravating. You despised it.

Even so, you stayed. You stayed and prepared for the day you could leave this place. Training to keep your strength, using the technology to polish your intellect, preparing for every scenario. You always left a bag packed under the bed, a change of clothes ready and enough money to help you get food at any restaurant for a week.

It was more than enough for you to get out of Gotham and find a way to change your life entirely.

Nothing seemed to be more romanticized in your head than jumping on that plane and flying away to another part of the world and forgetting the cards of life you had been dealt.

Even so, you knew that leaving while being underage would be the most difficult part. You had no passport, barely enough money to start a new life somewhere else. All the possibilities came down to long term thoughts, though you only had short term solutions.

Your dreams of flying across the world would have to be postponed until you were more able, more of age, and more financially stable to pursue the dreams of flying to the ends of the earth to escape the wretched place you knew as home.

The goal was to leave this life, to leave Gotham.

Freedom from poverty, from abuse, from everything.

Even after you tried to escape reality, you heard the loud bell inside the academy ringing out, signaling time for classes to end. You grabbed your bag full of books and brushed the hair out of your face. You walked through the halls, trying to reach the exit doors and head home. You hated that your… ‘parents’ enrolled you into such a revolting school. A private academy with only the elite children of Gotham that were set up for success and nothing to worry about other than getting their trust funds once their parent’s retired.

You pushed through the doors and headed down the steps before you heard a group of girls sitting on the bench stare at you and start laughing.

“Is that…. Is that her?”

“Yeah, I heard that they took her off the streets after she got arrested”

“Who let a person like that into the academy? Have we started going downhill?”

Your eyes twitched at the comments of the people around you. You just so happened to be enrolled into the academy half way through the school year, so keeping a low profile would not be the easiest thing since you were the talk of the halls as the ‘new girl’. You had only been going to the academy for a few weeks, but trouble still found its way to you regardless of never talking to anyone.

You hated Gotham's elite, but hated their pretentious children even more.

You kept walking, but suddenly felt yourself losing your balance and falling to the ground. Your bag fell with you and you heard snide laughter off to the side. You lifted your head and turned behind you, looking up at a tall, blonde haired guy that had one of the girls from earlier standing next to him.

“Looks like you still enjoy picking trash off the ground, streetrat.”, he commented. The girl, presumably his girlfriend, laughed before pointing at you and your disheveled state.

I swear if they don’t leave me alone I will break her nose.

You quietly ignored them and stood up, ignoring the comments they were making, it was better for you to just walk away.

You brushed yourself off then felt a hand grab your arm, “Hey, I’m talking to you, street rat”, you heard the guy’s deep voice call to you.

You turned around, your fist already made, but not before you felt another hand weigh down your arm. You turned around and saw another guy, taller than you but shorter than the first guy that had grabbed you. He looked like he was glaring down the instigator.

“Now, let’s calm down, yeah?”, he said deeply. His eyes intently squinted hoping that the other guy would let you be. Who the hell was this guy and why is he trying to interfere in something that doesn’t include him. You felt a sort of annoyance growing inside of you, but before you could speak up, the taller guy backed away, telling his girlfriend to go with him.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to waste on charity cases, Todd.”, and with that he left.

You wanted to punch the guy in the face and break his nose so badly but felt the anger leave you when Todd turned to say something to you. “Sorry about that, you okay? It looks like your arm might bruise up”, you looked at him and turned to grab your bag and started to walk away.

“Hey!”, he yelled after you, catching up to your speedy form. “You’re walking away again?”

Again? What did he mean by again? You turned around and met him eye to eye.

“Who are you? What do you want?”, you asked him with a sting in your tone. He looked at you with surprised eyes.

“I remember you, from a few months ago. I offered you water.”

You stared at him, confusion setting in, but you also replayed that memory in your head. Those green eyes weren’t something to just forget, you remembered how nice they looked the first time you saw them. Regardless, he wasn’t relevant enough to you to entertain the conversation any more.

“No, sorry. I think you got the wrong person.”

You said quickly before going off, ignoring the boy who just helped you from attracting more trouble. You were sure he was probably nice, but your lack of trust in others overcame any sense of truth that you could face in becoming friends or even acquaintances with anyone.

Never trust the elite.

The night was cold, it wasn't winter anymore, but the spring hadn’t settled in entirely so the crisp air of the night would entangle you in a cold front that almost seemed too much to manage while you sat on the roof of the building. You managed to sneak out after the family had gone to sleep. You were wearing a sweater and a pair of black pants.

You overlooked the city and hated the fact that there was so much happening down in the streets, it was dangerous for you to be out in the city this late but now that you had money, well the family’s money, you could afford a small bottle of pepper spray. You had your legs up to your chest, your arms wrapping around your knees and your chin resting on them. You tried to relax against the cold, but it found itself harder to do with each minute.

“It’s a bit chilly to be out here isn’t it?”

Your heart stopped in your chest and you turned around to look at who was speaking behind you, one hand in your pocket, ready to use the pepper spray if need be. You saw the person behind the voice step forward.

Tall, muscular, black domino mask on with the signature red and green suit, the yellow ‘R’ evident on his chest. He had dark hair and his physique made him appear a bit older but still seemed like he would be close to your age for sure.

“Shouldn’t you be with the Batman or did you finally get granted privileges?”, you muttered sarcastically.

“That’s funny, but I do go solo sometimes, get a feel of the streets.”, he walked over and stood next to where you were sitting. You felt him sit down with his legs hanging off the ledge of the building. “What are you doing up here? Don’t you have a curfew?”

“I snuck out. Don’t necessarily care what the family tells me.”, you answered him flatly, trying to get out of the conversation as fast as possible.

“I see, well, I’m Robin, what’s your name?”, this guy seemed way too talkative and it kind of bothered you. You just wanted to sit here in silence and this little sidekick had to come up and try to be your friend.

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”, you mentally begged him to say yes, wanting to be alone.

“Depends”

You glared at him, “Depends on what?”, you asked rudely.

“Depends on how this conversation goes.”

“(Y/n).”, you said through clenched teeth, your jaw tightening in annoyance.

He smiled at you before looking back over the city. “That’s a nice name”. He said before he pulled out a small bag. He handed it to you and you looked at it before meeting his eyes again.

“It’s a hand warmer”, you stared for a few seconds, examining the small bag before grabbing it from him and giving a small thank you. The both of you sat in silence, but for some odd reason, it didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. It felt normal, neutral, and calm.

“Why are you up here alone?”, his voice almost seemed like a whisper, before you turned your head looking at him, your hair blowing in your face. “It helps me escape.”. He looked at you, not saying anything while you continued.

“I don't have to think about the world down there, I can just escape reality for a while.”, you felt him looking at you as your eyes scanned the silent city below, hearing a few loud noises every few seconds. “This city hasn’t been kind to me, so being up here lets me escape that I live in this shithole.”

“Would you leave if you could?”, he asked curiously.

“Yeah, I would. If I could hop on a plane and disappear from this city forever I would do it in a heartbeat.”, you felt as though you answered too quickly, but you found happiness in your answer. "The goal has always been to leave."

“Yeah, me too.”

You looked at him and there was something that seemed to flood the air, and right when the moment seemed too perfect to be ruined, you heard a small radio signal. It was probably his cue to leave.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”, he apologized and you just smiled at him, waving a small goodbye. He went to jump off the building before he turned back to you and smiled. “I hope we can meet again soon, (Y/n).”.

And just like that, he was gone. A part of you was glad he was, but another strange part had hoped he could stay a little longer. For the first time since your first days in this city, you felt normal and at peace with having a conversation with someone.

You felt like there was normalcy to your life.

The next few weeks passed the exact same way, you would go to the rooftops, and almost like it was planned, the miraculous boy wonder would show up to converse and joke around. You were still cold towards him, not opening up or saying too much the first few times but after a week or two, you slowly started to open up. He helped give you a sense of peace in your life, you could slowly start trusting him. He would sometimes bring you things and would tell you about all the things he wished he could do once he was old enough to do them.

You both made a pact to pack everything once you were both old enough and leave Gotham for good. Thinking of all the places in the world to visit and being able to go out and see better parts of the world.

The both of you had grown to like each other a lot and create a sort of friendship that was unconventional, but exciting. You had similar interests, same humor, and both equally sarcastic and smartasses.

There was one night when the two of you were talking about how you both grew up. He told you how he lived on the streets and that he got taken in by Batman when he tried stealing the wheels off the Batmobile when he was 12. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing because who in their right mind would steal from Batman?

It was a nice story to laugh over and he told you about his training and how he got lucky to be able to get taken in by someone who genuinely wanted to help him. Your heart softened at his comment because it made you think about the couple who adopted you. You resented them but they had been nothing but good to you, they provided for you and because of them you had food to eat every night, new clothing, got an education, and yet your traumatized heart refused to trust them. Yet, here you were with a stranger you had only met about three months ago and already trusting them more than the people who took you off the streets.

It didn’t make sense but you tried to make it make sense in your head. You let him in on your life on the streets and you didn’t even know what he looked like, let alone his real name. There was comfort in the mystery for you, so it progressed into something more for you, wondering if the same had happened to him.

The two of you stood on the ledge of the building, you heard him mess with something in his belt and extend his hand out to you. You took it and he grabbed his grappling hook before grabbing you tightly, due to his training, you were light enough for him to carry. The wind blew in your face and your heart was pounding through your chest, the adrenaline flooding your body. He laughed out into the night and you followed. He used his feet to crash through the window of an old building and rolled to where you landed on top of him.

You looked down at him, trying to catch your breath, smiling and laughing along with him. You felt him raise his hand up and push your hair behind your ear, your smile still evident on your lips. He smiled back at you, and leaned himself up, the hot air filling the room and in a moment, you felt your whole world come to a stop. He had leaned into you, kissing your lips, and you pressed into him. Your first kiss being shared with a stranger, but was he really? You could consider him a friend now, maybe even more than that if he’d let you.

You both pulled apart and he smiled at you.

Yeah, there was something there.

The nights continued, for months and they were never boring but filled with laughs and stolen kisses. It made you happy. He spent your 15th birthday with you, bought you a small gift, a necklace with a green stone, he said the color reminded him of you and it brought out the color in your (e/c) eyes. There was one night in particular that was forever engraved into your heart. Robin had come back to the rooftop, you sitting by the ledge waiting for him.

“(Y/n), I have to tell you something.”, he seemed frantic, like he was nervous about something. You felt your heart start beating faster, expecting the absolute worst. “W-what is it?”

“I know that we.. we’ve been..seeing each other, and I know you feel the same things that I do.”, your heart couldn’t stop pounding, you were sure he could hear it. “I want to tell you who I am, beneath the mask, beneath the Robin suit. I want us to be able to go out together. I just need to do something else first.”, Your heart seemed to stop. He wanted to tell you his identity? He wanted to be serious with you, take it further. You silently nodded, not knowing what to say at that moment.

“I’ll be gone for a few days, so don’t think I’m abandoning you. It shouldn’t be more than a week, but I promise, when I come back, we’ll get a real date. You’ll know me as… me. I promise, wait for me.”, you looked at him and nodded, your heart filling with content at his words.

He grabbed your face and kissed you and you kissed back.

The moment couldn’t be more perfect than this.

You waited like you promised. You let a week pass by before you started going back to the rooftop again. You would go every night hoping that he would be back from his trip, not exactly knowing when he would be back. The first night passed and he didn’t show up. Then the second, and still a no show.

You were convinced he got held up, maybe his trip was longer than a week and he just got confused.

The third night, then the fourth, fifth, sixth, tenth, a month. 2 months. 3 months. Nothing.

Your heart felt broken, he had promised he would come back.

Why wasn’t he coming?

Did his trip get delayed?

Did something happen?

Why wasn’t he here?

Once it got down to six months, you stopped going back to the roof. On the last day, you stood on the ledge, staring down at the city below you, your mind in shambles wondering where he was. He left. He said he'd come back but he hasn't.

Was this the consequence of trusting him?

Did he realize he didn't want to be around you anymore?

You closed your eyes, lifting a hand to grasp the necklace he'd given you, your chest heavy as you felt the tears pour down your cheeks. Was this the world's cruel way of telling you you'd never get anything good in your life?

Your heart and your trust were completely broken, all because you trusted someone who never came back.

[acewritesfics]

The Neighbour's Cat | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: from @rainydayteacups

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff overload. Soft Tommy. I guess you could say pre-war Tommy but I didn’t really mention it.

Word Count: 1,564

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

“Did you hear that?” Ada asks after a loud thud came from out in the backyard.   

“It might be the neighbour's cat,” Y/N replies. The grey tabby is often in her small backyard, making himself comfortable in one of her flowerpots as he slept. She no longer had flowers growing in the one he took a liking too. “He often comes into the yard.”  

She goes to pour herself another glass of the wine that Polly had swiped from the Garrison when she sees movement outside the window. Recognising the familiar hair cut she stands up from the table. "I'll be right back. I need to make sure the cat hasn't gotten into anything it shouldn't have."  

"But it's dark outside, what could it possibly get into?" Ada whines, lifting her glass to her lips.  

"You'd be surprised," Y/N mumbles and makes her way to the back door and slips outside, looking into the darkness of the night for a person sneaking around the back of her home. "Tommy?" she whispers loudly unsure if it was him, she'd seen.   

As Tommy moves in front of her, a hand clasped gently over her mouth as he holds a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.   

"Come with me," he speaks barely above a whisper, the hand covering her mouth moving to take her hand in his and leads her away from the back yard and into the street.  

“Tommy, I can’t just leave,” she protests but makes no real effort to break away from him and go back inside. “Where are the others?”  

“Back at the Garrison,” he informs her. “And who says we can’t sneak off to spend the night before our wedding together?” 

“It’s tradition,” she sighs knowing the women currently in her kitchen will have her head once they realize she’s disappeared.  

“Fuck tradition,” he scoffs as he slows his walk now that their getting further from the house. “Since when have we been ones to follow tradition, eh?” 

“I guess you have a point,” she smiles. 

“We’ll start our own tradition,” he announces, his voice echoing through the empty street as he walks ahead of her lighting his cigarette and turning to face her while walking backwards. “Our future generations will spend the eve of their wedding together instead of apart because we did it first.” 

Not realizing he’s about to step off the curb, he stumbles backwards causing Y/N to gasp as scrambles forward to try stop him from falling. He steadies himself before he can topple backwards. “I’m fine, love.” 

She shakes her head with a chuckle as his hands reach for her hips and pulls her closer. “So, what do you say?” 

“I say, I’m the luckiest woman in all of England, maybe even the whole world,” she smiles. “Let’s make our own traditions.” 

He smiles, kissing her, before taking her hand again and leading her further from her home. 

Arriving at Charlie’s Yard, Tommy helps her through the gate and towards the stables. Y/N looks around apprehensively, unsure if they should be there. It's been a long time since they snuck into the yard of the man who's like an uncle to the Shelby siblings. Last time they did it, they'd been caught. Charlie had almost fired Tommy from his job as punishment, but Tommy promised never to do it again. Until now.  

"Tom, are we allowed to be here?" she questions him, even though she has a feeling she already knows the answer as they walk into the makeshift stable.  

"I cleared it with Charlie," he informs her, surprising her a little. 

"But Charlie's at the Garrison with the rest of the blokes," she says, realization hitting her. "He was in on this plan of yours." 

"He tried to talk me out of it," he tells her.  

"But of course, Tommy Shelby gets his way," she teases. 

"I convinced you to marry me, didn't I?" he asks, a smug smile on his pouted lips.  

"It didn't take much convincing," she smiles.  

"We first met here," he reminds her. "You were tending to one of the horses Curly was working with." 

"Moonlight," she smiles remembering the day well.  

She came to Birmingham two years ago to visit her cousin, Curly, and look for work, having been fired from her last job for no good reason. Curly talked to Charlie about hiring her, claiming he needed a hand with the horses. Charlie hired her after Curly gave him his word about Y/N being a hard worker and almost as good with horses as he was.  

She was three days into her job when she crossed paths with Tommy. She was grooming Moonlight, a black stallion with a diamond shaped patch of white on his forehead. Moonlight just so happened to be one of the horses Tommy saved from a man who was about to put the beautiful boy down, because he was sick, and he couldn't afford to get him well again. Curly had nursed him back to health within a few weeks. Y/N had bonded with him so much that Tommy couldn't bring himself to find him a new home, instead keeping him as a gift for the woman he had fallen so quickly in love with. 

Those few weeks curly was nursing Moonlight back to health, Tommy spent pursuing Y/N, unable to get her from his mind. It took a month before she gave in to his advances and they've been together ever since. And Moonlight is now in a stable on a farm a friend owns, living his life to the fullest. Y/N is out there almost daily attending to him and taking him for rides. Tommy can't wait for the day when he can move Moonlight into their own stables, on property they owned, with as many horses as his wife wants. 

"The first time I saw you, I knew I had to have you in my life," he tells her. "You looked so beautiful, covered in dirt and grime, humming that tune as you ran a brush through Moonlight's mane. He seemed so calm and at peace that I felt it within myself."  

"Oh, Tommy," she coos softly, feeling her heart erupt with all the love she has for him. The fluttering feeling like a kaleidoscope of butterflies was inside her chest. She steps towards him, placing her hand on his face as she looks at him lovingly, her thumb stroking his well-defined cheek.  

"I've felt it ever since that moment," he says, his voice softer. "You bring peace to my chaotic life. It's one of the many reasons why I love you." 

"I love you," is all she's able to say before she pulls him in for passionate kiss, expressing all the love she has for the man who turned her life upside down in the best kind of way.  

Y/N startles awake the next morning when a loud noise comes from outside. Placing her hand on Tommy's bare shoulder, she gently shakes him awake, hearing the rattling of gates being opened.  

"Tommy, we need to leave," she tells him barely above a whisper. 

Groaning, his eyes flutter open and connect with Y/N's eyes. He smiles and reaches behind her head to pull her in for a morning kiss. His other hand travels up her thigh, plays with the hem of his shirt she's wearing before slipping under it to grab her hip to pull her closer.  

"Enough of that you two," The sound of Charlie's voice causes them to part. "You best get out of here before they send a search party. Can't be late to your own wedding." 

He walks away before they could say anything. Standing up, Y/N quickly dresses into her clothes from the previous day as Tommy takes back his shirt and coat.  

"I'll walk you home," he tells her as they leave the stable. They thank Charlie who waves them off with a shake of his head and tells them he'll see them at the ceremony. Hurrying home, Y/N holds onto Tommy's hand tightly, bracing herself for the lecture she's about to encounter.  

Standing on her front doorstep, she turns to face Tommy with a small smile on her lips. "I'm about to get my head bitten off by your aunt and our sisters but last night is worth every second of it."  

"I agree, my love," he smiles also. "I liked that tradition far better." 

"This coming from the man that said a fuck you to traditions," she teases.  

"To traditions that aren't ours," he corrects her.  

"You better get going before Polly sees you," she chuckles and pulls him in for one more kiss before they become man and wife. "I love you." 

"I love you too," he says pulling away from her and stepping back on to the footpath. "Don't be late," he tells her. 

"I'll be the one in white just in case you can't find me," she laughs. 

"I'll always be able to find you," he smiles and turns around, starting his walk to Arthur's house.  

As soon as she opens the door and heads inside, she gulps seeing Polly standing there with her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. "And where the hell have you been?" 

"The neighbor's cat needed to see me," she replies slipping past her to go to the bathroom. 

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[gomtotemeal]

At dinner, my wife Diane told me that Deb and Gary were going to stop by for drinks later and that it might be nice to put out one of the good candles.

“Oh?” I said. “Which ones are Deb and Gary?”

“They’re our next door neighbors.”

“Hmm..."

“I thought it might be nice to light one of the Yankee candles.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” I asked. “It’s not like we’re sleeping with them. At least. It’s not like I’m sleeping with them.”

I eyed my wife suspiciously, but she remained focused on her dinner.

“I just thought we’d light it for a little while."

“And then what is our excuse for blowing it out?” I asked. “When the time comes, what do we tell them? How do we extinguish the candle in a way that seems casual and good-natured?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“You never do, Diane. It’s a miracle we’re not sleeping in the streets.”

We ate in silence for the next five minutes as my mind worked towards a possible compromise. I wasn’t a monster.

“Describe their breathing habits,” I said. “Are they excitable? Do they breathe heavily?”

“Forget it,” said Diane. “I don’t even care at this point.”

“I just don’t want them breathing up our expensive candles!”

“I said forget it.”

A week later, there was a fire in the locker where I kept the candles. They melted together into one, gigantic candle. It was too horrible to look at and so I had the firefighters put the candle into a garbage bag so I didn’t have to see the damage.

We buried it in the backyard. Diane cried, but it was a dry cry. There were no tears and I asked her about it.

“I guess I’m all cried out."

“I had a medical procedure,” I said, as I shoveled the last of the dirt onto the candle. “Where if my heart stops beating, I explode. I’m a human bomb.”

It wasn’t true, but if my suspicions were correct and it was Diane who had destroyed the candles, then I knew that I was next. I needed to buy some time until I could investigate the depth of my wife’s lies, starting with these supposed “neighbors.”

That night, from their closet, I watched uncomfortably as Deb and Gary made love in their bed. I had broken in to look for other proof and I guess they kind of surprised me.

“Okay. Well I guess the part about neighbors was real,” I thought. “Well played, Diane.”