#Fish n' Chips Mention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heathermason6060 · 4 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut.

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either.

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry.

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women.

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him.

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question.

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before.

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you.

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?”

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group.

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends.

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.”

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened.

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker.

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay.

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly.

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire.

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways.

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry)

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line.

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-��

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.”

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you.

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease.

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle.

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets.

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane.

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp.

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown branches from the larger trees.

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.”

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy.

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard.

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?”

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list.

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend.

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you.

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly.

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.”

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long.

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl.

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle.

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on.

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows.

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils.

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this.

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it.

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes.

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips.

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down.

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it.

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face.

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way.

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak.

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth.

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt.

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there.

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made.

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right.

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction.

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs.

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic.

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs.

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed.

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you.

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around.

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped.

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up.

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed.

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you.

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie.

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths.

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees.

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you.

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you.

What Daryl didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.”

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow.

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips.

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time.

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making.

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth.

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin.

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet.

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.”

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder.

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you.

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you.

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist.

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete.

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his.

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it.

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you.

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds.

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.”

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted.

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit.

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement.

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again.

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions.

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies.

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp.

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck.

And his fly was still down.

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.”

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face.

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already.

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.”

2K notes · View notes

soubeomies · 1 month ago

Text

꒰୨୧◞ ₊˚ 𝓨𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

�� 𝓟𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ﹕ leehan x fem!reader

⤷ 𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ﹕ mentions of reader sitting on ihans lap

⤷ 𝓖𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ﹕ fluff

⤷ 𝓦𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝓒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ﹕ 457

⤷ 𝓐𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝓝𝗈𝗍𝖾 ﹕ oh i forgot to ask, wdyt of my somewhat new format ?!?! it’s not much different, just the font hehe. anyways! i’ve just had this ihan thought in my head ALL day. i had to write it ASAP!

⤷ 𝓢𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ﹕ leehan hated being interrupted during his fish tank decorating sessions. you thought he’d also be upset at you, but i guess you can be an exception.

leehan hated whenever one of his members would interrupt him whilst he was in the process of decorating a new tank of his. he would always brush them off by ignoring them or in some cases, he would tell them to leave.

he was always in his little world whenever he was decorating a fish tank. he cared so much for the little creatures that would swim in the decorated tank. he always made sure everything he put in the tank was safe for the fishes that would inhabit the tank.

you knew about this whole thing, which is exactly why you would always avoid disturbing him while he works on his silly little fish tanks.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

today was supposed to be no different, but of course something had to go wrong. leehan was working on a new tank, though he forgot to inform you. that resulted in you barging into his dorm as per usual, only to find him fixated on a new fish tank. his gaze shot up to yours, pushing up his glasses.

he looks like he’s ready to curse everything right then and there, until he sees your face. his stoic expression quickly softened, his eyes gleaming with nothing but affection. “i’m so sorry! i didn’t know you were working on a new one!” you claim. you can only hope that he’s not upset at you..

“s’ okay baby.” he calmly replied, “wanna watch?” he asks. you look at him, wide-eyed. you thought that he’d be upset at you, just like he would be with everyone else.

you silently nod, “are you not mad at me?” you say whilst you slowly approached him. he gently pulled you onto his lap, which resulted in your body pushed up against his warmth. he softly chuckled, “why would i be?” he asks the question as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“you get mad at everyone if they disturb you.” you mutter under your breath, chills run down your spine as you feel his warm breath against your neck. “there’s your answer. you’re not everyone, you’re y/n. my y/n.” he says in the most nonchalant way ever. he says it so easily, each and every word rolling off his tongue so prettily.

your cheeks flushed a slight tint of pink as you smiled to yourself. you replied to him with a simple nod, trying to hide the fact that your heart was quite literally in your throat right now.

he carried on, continuing his fish tank as usual. all while having you snug on his lap. he occasionally reached his hands into a bag of chips and feeding you before returning to whatever he was doing.

you really were the only exception.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ networks : @kstrucknet

#soubeomies #kstrucknet #( ⋆˚✿˖° ) kstruckfics #fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #boynextdoor #bnd #leehan #boynextdoor kim leehan #kim leehan #kim donghyun #boynextdoor leehan #boynextdoor donghyun #bnd leehan #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan x you

388 notes · View notes

chibinasuu · 1 month ago

Text

Captain's Seat | Luffy x Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You checked up on the Captain, who had been sitting on his favorite seat for hours as he tried to get the first glimpse of an oncoming island Word count: 1.2k Tags: one-shot, fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, main pairing could be interpreted as platonic or romantic, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

a/n: here it is, the final fic of the thousand sunny slice-of-life series, featuring our beloved captain!! i wanna say thank you to everyone who has been following along, and a warm welcome to everyone who’s seeing this series for the first time! without further ado, please enjoy!

“This is boooring,” Luffy whined from his perch on the Sunny’s railing, one hand limply holding a fishing pole.

The water today was calm, and the weather was sunny, but not too hot. That is to say, it was a perfect morning for fishing. But, it had also been two weeks since the last time the Straw Hats set foot on solid ground, so you could understand why your Captain was bored out of his mind.

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes, Captain.” You chuckled as you looked up at him. You were leaning against the railing next to Luffy, a fishing pole of your own gripped between your fingers.

“But no fish is biting!” He pouted, resting his chin on top of his hand.

“Have some patience, Luffy.” You chided him, though a smile was still present on your face. Knowing full well how his brain works, you wittily added, “Don’t you want some grilled fish for lunch? Or sashimi? Maybe some fish and chips? I’m sure Sanji will make something delicious with our catch.”

Luffy’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of food, and his focus returned to his fishing pole with renewed vigor. You smiled to yourself, nothing motivated your Captain more than a promise of a good old feast.

“And get down from there, will you?” you told him, eyeing his precarious position on the thin railing, “I’m not fishing you out if you fall overboard.”

“That’s alright!” Luffy laughed cheekily, “Zoro will get me!”

You sighed, knowing that he was absolutely correct.

Today’s catch ended up being an octopus, some mackerels, and a giant tuna, which was so massive that it actually managed to drag Luffy into the ocean. Zoro immediately jumped after him of course, just like Luffy said he would, and successfully wrangled the tuna onboard with him too.

Sanji was ecstatic to see the tuna and proceeded to expertly filet the fish, treating the crew to a fresh sashimi platter before cooking the rest of it for lunch.

The meal that followed was a buffet of seafood delicacies – Sanji’s specialty – and by the end of it, everyone was so full that no one seemed to have the willpower to get up from the dining table.

“Oh, right!” Nami suddenly spoke up, “We’ve entered an island’s climate, by the looks of the weather, so we should make landfall…”

Nami’s sentence was cut short by Luffy’s excited whoop. He immediately leaped up from his chair and charged outside, looking back only to thank Sanji for the meal. You could hear the Captain hooting with joy as he ran to the front of the ship, singing the word “adventure” over and over to a random tune of his own making.

The orange-haired girl heaved a long sigh, “I was saying that we may be making landfall in a few days. The island won’t even come into view until tomorrow, at least.”

Robin let out a soft giggle, “Let him be, Nami. You know how excited he always gets whenever we’re approaching a new island.”

The crew returned to their respective activities after lunch. Franky and Usopp were holed up in their workshops, while Zoro was training in the crow’s nest. Nami was in the library, readying her mapmaking tools to chart the new island and the seas surrounding it. Robin was keeping her company, deeply engrossed in a book.

You helped Sanji wash the dishes and clean up the dining room, before asking him for pieces of vegetables to feed the Straw Hats’ resident transponder snails. The little creatures usually just sleep a lot, so it was always fascinating to see their round eyes widen at the sight of some fresh greens.

A couple of hours passed before you noticed that Luffy had yet to come down from his spot at the figurehead. Now that your chores are finished, you figured it was a good time as any to go check up on him.

“Hey, Captain!” You called out from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the lion’s head, “Mind if I join you?”

Luffy whipped his head around at your voice, yelling out your name excitedly. His lips formed a sly grin, and your eyes widened as you belatedly realized what he was up to, “Luffy, don’t you dare!”

There was nothing you could do as Luffy’s arm stretched out, wrapped several times around your waist, and snatched you off the deck. You crashed into him, both of you struggling to maintain your balance on the curved figurehead.

Once you were safely seated next to him, you playfully swatted his arm, “I could’ve just used the stairs, you know. Did you want to fall into the ocean for the second time today?”

He only scratched his head and laughed maniacally, “My bad!”

Luffy’s eyes returned to the horizon, eager to catch the first glimpse of the island, which, according to Nami, won’t even appear until tomorrow.

You said teasingly, “How come you can stay up here for hours but get bored with only ten minutes of fishing?”

“Hmm,” He seriously considered, before nodding decisively, “Because the view is way better from here.”

You laughed, “We’re in the middle of the ocean, Luffy. The view is practically the same from anywhere on the ship!”

“Nope!” He insisted, “Here is better.”

You could only chuckle, “If you say so, Captain.”

After a few minutes, Luffy’s knees started bouncing in excitement, “I wonder what kind of adventure we’ll have on this next island! Do you think there's gonna be a jungle? A desert? A crowded town? Ah, I can’t wait to taste the food there too!”

“Looking at our track record so far, there will probably also be trouble waiting for us, huh?” You said in jest, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Well, whatever the trouble, I’m not worried one bit.” He gave you a wide grin, “After all, I have you guys with me!”

Luffy put both his hands in front of his face and counted off on his fingers, “I have you, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, and Jinbe. We always made it through together somehow, don’t we? So, we can just keep doing what we do until we reach the end of the Grand Line!”

You nodded in agreement, your heart filled anew with joy and gratitude for this little family of yours – this little band of misfits who had somehow found each other amid this wide, wide ocean.

Your Captain was uncharacteristically solemn for a moment before he proclaimed, “Then, I’m going to become the King of the Pirates!”

He had said the exact same thing thousands of times before, but the conviction in his voice never wavered.

“You will.” You replied with equal confidence, not a shadow of doubt in your mind.

“And you all are gonna be there by my side when I do.” Luffy said, not as a question or even a Captain’s order, just a statement that you both knew would come true.

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, “Of course we will.”

With that signature laugh of his, he took off his treasured hat and placed it firmly on top of your head, “Y'know, I’m glad you joined my crew!”

“Well, you didn’t exactly give me a choice!” You joked, recalling how he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he first invited you to join the Straw Hat Pirates. You leaned your head against his and squeezed his hand, “But, I’m really glad I’m here too.”

You sat side-by-side with Luffy for hours after that, eyes on the horizon, awaiting the stage for your next adventure to come into sight.

Maybe your Captain was right, the view really did seem better from up here.

a/n: aaahh it’s over! thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed that! this series may have come to an end, but i’d love to write some more of these slice-of-life stories if someone requested it, so if you have ideas/scenarios featuring any of the straw hats, you are more than welcome to slide into my askbox or dm!

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

265 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 9 months ago

Text

I Know

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Signs of an Eating Disorder

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.4K

Summary: Y/N isn't great with eating and Rafe knows how to help her out with that problem.

A/N: This is inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Food has always been a sore spot for Y/N. She is particular about the type of food she eats and while she is okay with eating leftovers once, she quickly grows tired of eating the same thing more than twice a week. In these situations, a part of her brain tells her that she doesn’t want to eat and she should spend time doing other things she wants to do instead of eating food that no longer sounds appealing to her. This leaves her stomach to cry for food, but it goes unanswered by the girl, who would rather be at the beach. Rafe knows how her brain works and that is why as he is returning from an early morning errand, he is sure to stop at the restaurant down the street.

When he returns home, even though it is one in the afternoon, Y/N is lying on the couch watching TV. She must not be planning on eating lunch because if she is, then she would’ve eaten at twelve. Lunch is always harder for her to eat. It is when they eat leftovers more likely than not and she often eats it alone. Her eyes train on him as he walks to the kitchen, setting a bag on the kitchen counter. This piques her interest and she goes to sit at the kitchen island. “What’s in the bag?” she asks, reaching to look inside. He beats her to it and opens it to unleash the scent of fish and chips. She also gets a hint of the mouth-watering gravy from their favourite fish and chips place. He places two containers on the counter, joining her on a bar stool. He opens the containers, “I got us lunch. Your favourite.” He kisses her before handing her cutlery. “Aww, thank you,” she says. Her hand subconsciously reaches for her phone and she pulls up Google. Rafe yanks her hand out of her hand before she can type anything in. “Hey, what are you doing?” she protests.

Rafe tsks, “Nope. I know you, I won’t let you search up the calories. Just eat, okay? You haven’t had anything all day.” Her heart flips at his care and understanding of how her mind works. “You are amazing. But what about the leftovers?” she worries, thinking about the container of lasagna in the fridge. He brings her hand into his, “I’m going to drop it off at John B’s place tonight. Sarah and the others are going over to his place and we both know they are all too lazy to cook. Plus, JJ will eat just about anything so if no one else wants to eat it, we know he will.” “You’ve got this all figured out. Don’t you?” she wonders as she begins to dig into her food. He gives her a grin, “Of course. I know how to take care of my girl.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

572 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 28 days ago

Text

Temptation Awaits... Or Not?

Summary: After rescuing a strange man entangled in a fishing net on the shore, you find yourself drawn to his mysterious allure. A cunning siren, initially tries to manipulate you into joining him in the ocean with dark intentions, hoping to lure you in as his next meal. However, your oblivious kindness and unwavering curiosity surprise him.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Siren AU, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends (to lovers hinted), Unrequited Manipulation, Emotional Attachment.

Warnings: Mentions of manipulation and implied predatory behavior, Minor dark themes (His initial intent to consume Reader).

A/N: thinking to do a Medusa x Ratio AU 🤔

Inspired by: (1), (2), (3), c.ai

The evening waves brushed gently against the shore, and you squinted through the dimming light. There was something caught in the fishing net, tangled among seaweed and driftwood. As you got closer, your heart skipped — it wasn’t a fish or some ocean debris, but a man.

Or at least, something like a man. He had sandy-blond hair plastered to his skin, faint glimmers of scales across his arms, and the most mesmerizing eyes you’d ever seen — deep magenta and an eerie cyan, holding a dangerous allure. His gaze fixed on you, intense yet unreadable, and a shiver ran through you.

"Are you alright?" You called, pulling the net away from his arm. "How did you get tangled like this?"

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes flicking over you with a calculating sharpness. He had that charm about him, like something out of a dream.

Finally, he smirked, a hint of danger in it. “I suppose I owe you my thanks, human.” he purred, voice smooth like velvet, laced with a strange rhythm that drew you closer.

You blinked at the formal tone, still kneeling as you tried to pull more of the net off his finned tail, which you now noticed was covered in shimmering green-gold scales. Beautiful, you thought absently, captivated by the creature you were freeing. He watched you, head tilted just slightly, perhaps in wonderment, perhaps in mockery.

“You could repay me by… inviting me out for coffee sometime?” you joked, still feeling his eyes on you.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Come with me to the ocean,” he murmured, voice silken. His gaze drifted to the horizon, then back to you, almost hypnotic in its intensity. “You’ve freed me, and the ocean has wonders far beyond your world, dear human. If you come with me, you’ll know things mortals have only dreamed of.”

You laughed, a sound that startled him slightly. “Sorry, I think I’d drown.” you said, brushing your hands off after the net finally slid away.

His eyes darkened, a small frown forming on his perfect face, as if he hadn’t expected you to resist so easily. But he let the expression slip away, eyes returning to a languid charm. “Perhaps another time, then.”

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

The days after, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You found yourself returning to that same shore, sometimes in the morning, sometimes just as the sun would set. And, to your quiet joy, you’d see him there — the strange, entrancing siren with the colorful eyes, lounging on the rocks, waiting.

At first, he merely observed you with a slight smirk, as if always planning something, but your idle chatter, your laughter — these things seemed to chip away at whatever distance he tried to maintain.

“So… you’re not joining me today, either?” he’d ask with a mocking sigh each time you saw him. He’d run his fingers through his hair, feigning impatience. “Perhaps you’re afraid of what I might show you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “If it weren’t for the whole breathing underwater thing, maybe I would!”

He sighed, a little defeated but strangely amused, his head tilted as he continued to study you. It had been so easy in the beginning — the humans who wandered to the shore were always so fascinated by him, so eager to listen, to obey. But you, with your quick, kind smiles and seemingly endless curiosity, had somehow slipped past his charms.

“Are you always so… dense?” he asked one evening, a flicker of frustration behind his words.

You grinned, shrugging. “Or maybe I’m just smart enough to know when someone’s trying to lure me into the ocean.”

The siren huffed, trying to mask the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite himself, he was fascinated by you, drawn to the way you spoke with him so freely, so kindly. You laughed easily, never shying away from the piercing looks he gave you.

One evening, after a particularly lengthy conversation, he found himself speaking without thinking. “If I weren’t trying to eat you, I’d probably find you quite… tolerable.”

“Oh, well, that’s just charming,” you snorted, shaking your head as you stood to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Before he could even stop himself, he nodded.

Day by day, he waited for you on the shore, always with the same intentions, though lately they’d softened. You had the same smile every time you saw him, that same laugh that had become strangely precious to him. The allure of his song had faltered, and he was left wondering why it was you, this human, who had broken it so easily.

Then one day, he asked, almost hesitantly, “You don’t ever feel scared… knowing what I am?”

You looked at him, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Not really. If anything, I feel sorry for you. You’ve probably never had a real friend before, huh?”

He flinched, the words hitting deeper than they should have. You were right. And perhaps, for the first time, he understood why he waited on the shore for you.

So, on the days that followed, he didn’t try to lure you into the ocean or convince you to stay. Instead, he listened to your laughter and let your warmth keep him company, feeling that strange, unfamiliar comfort of being wanted for something beyond his power.

133 notes · View notes

lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

Text

The one where he carries you home after a fight (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: My 7AM sleepless demons wrote this, not me.

warning: mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

“Thanks for coming, Toji. She wanted us to hit Roppongi next.”

“No problem.” Toji mutters as he lifts your limp body over his shoulders—arms thrown over his neck and knees buckled around his torso.

He nearly winces at the overwhelming stench of tequila emanating from your breath, praying that the wetness seeping through his shirt is drool and not vomit, though that’s more like wishful thinking. You are wasted. Completely and utterly drunk out of your mind to the point where you can’t differentiate the setting or those around him.

“Mistah, drop me off at the next station,” you slur with your eyes closed, pointing somewhere on the horizon before nodding off again. This was the third time you repeated that motion.

“How much did ya make her drink?” Toji doesn’t ask so much as accuse the two women, who are quick to shut him down with the dirtiest of looks. Nothing new. Your friends never liked him, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Make her?” Utahime huffs, rolling her sleeves over her elbows. “She’s the one who dragged us out on a Tuesday night. If anything, you’re the one to blame—you pushed her to it!”

“Senpai, calm down already.” Shoko lowers her friend’s fists. Out of the two, she’s the better one at acting like she tolerates him. “What did you fight over, anyway?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

With the way you stormed out the door in your finest high-heel shoe, black party dress, and red lipstick combo, he’d expect your lovers quarrel to make headlines by midnight.

However, they both shake their heads negatively.

“Who knows?” Toji flashes an oblivious smile before he gets you going. You were so angry at him earlier, and in all honesty, he did cross a line or two, but it doesn’t feel all that important now. Come tomorrow, this will become just another entry in your record of petty arguments to look back on and laugh at.

You’ve made it halfway up the slope that leads to your crappy apartment building when he catches you flailing around on his back like a fish fresh out of water. He slots his hands into the crevices beneath your thighs, applying enough pressure so that you won’t fall.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.”

Your slow blinks turn rapid the second you realize your feet aren’t touching the ground and you’re piggybacking on a stranger. “W-Who are you?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Toji rolls his eyes with a loud tsk. “What was it again? Mister Taxi? Mister Killjoy? Or Mister Buzzkill?” He goes through the different names you bestowed on him in your sleep.

“Mister… Buzzkill?” Your jaw drops slack on his shoulder, only for your palms to clap at his chest in excitement a minute later. “Mister Buzzkill, I remember! You kidapped me from my friends and spoiled our fun!”

“More like your friends got sick of your ass and called me to pick up the pieces.” He argues. “Hold on tight if ya don’t wanna fall. Climb’s steep from now on.”

Strength returns to your arms as they cage his neck. “Where are you taking me, Mister Buzzkill? Are we going to party?”

“Don’tcha think you’ve had enough partying for one night, princess?” He grunts. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Home? Whose home?”

Toji’s starting to miss the you that nags him about not soaking his dirty dishes. Alcohol always chips away at your mental capacity, and while he wants to be understanding, he can’t understand that which he’s never experienced for himself. “Our home, dummy.”

The epithet doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you going to exploit me?”

“Prospect makes you happy?” You hum in return. “Fine. You can pay for the ride once we make it home.”

“But…” And you sound so sad that he cocks his head to peer at your face, glassy, puppy eyes welling up with fat tears that make him wonder whether he said something hurtful again. “I don’t have any money. My husband said we’re out of money ‘cause he—he gambled it away.”

The cogs in his brain are put in reverse, reminding him of the cash he snatched from your open wallet with the intention of waging it on a guaranteed victory and the little white lie you took at face value. You didn’t even give him the chance to explain that the bills were still in his pocket because the race was called off, and he let you run off to your friends without offering a single apology.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Toji squeezes your thighs reassuringly. “Ya can pay me back in kind, too.”

“But my husband—”

“Your husband is a shithead.” He spits out, hoping that his remorse registers without leaving behind any actual trace of his words.

“You are so kind, Mister Buzzkill. Unlike him—my Toji.” The fingers of your one hand pull on your wedding band until it comes off. “Wanna marry me again, Mister…Toji?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toji catches the wedding band right before it slips from your fingers to the street. Part of him wants to scold you for being a scatterbrained nuisance, but the part of him that finds even your plastered form endearing comes out on top.

He slides the ring around the ring finger of his ring-less hand and pieces your hands together, holding onto them until you finally reach the front door and you’re sober enough to call him by his name.

“A’right, we’re here.” Toji declares once the key’s inside the hole.

He calls out your name and shakes you softly, but there’s no answer coming from you other than a single embarrassingly loud snore. He lets go of your legs and slowly puts your feet on the floor before hoisting them up in the air again, shifting to carrying you into bridal position. Your hands reach around his neck on their own volition, and he swears your lips curl into the softest smile when your nose pressed against his shirt.

He sighs, parting the hair that’s fallen inside your agape mouth.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji headcanons #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji x yn #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro

645 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 9 months ago

Text

Ultramarine- Indigo 7

Hello! Here is a cute part of Indigo, I'm sorry she's a slow burn but I really love them so I don't wanna rush them <3

Check out Patreon for early access to the next part and 150+ Exclusive writings

Indigo Masterlist

WC- 2.8k

Warnings- mention of trauma and bullying (brief) and sexual tension ;)

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

Y/N was grabbing lunch with him.

Harry’s hand ached, the 5 hour session being particularly grueling regardless of how used his muscles were to the gun. He used arthritic cream on it and his wrist as he took a break in his office, finally checking his phone. As impressed as he was with the woman who had come and sat for 5 hours, he’d wished she wanted a break when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. H was giddy and anxious to see what Y/N was saying- she was the only one who texted him during the day besides Niall with stupid tiktok links and his Mum sending photos of her cats.

When he’d opened it up to see her question, he didn’t hesitate to agree. It didn’t matter if he hurt, he wanted to take any excuse he could to see her.

Y/N; Hiiii! I know this is super last minute so do not be afraid to say no but did you want to grab lunch at around 2:30?

H: Absolutely I do. Sorry for the late reply, I was finishing a tattoo. It isn’t too late to say yes, is it?

Y/N: Oh, amazing :) And no, not too late. I’m kind of bored today, I finished a project and told myself I needed to relax but… I feel restless and I missed you a little bit.

Harry felt himself flush at her response, knowing if anyone saw him at this moment they wouldn't recognize him. His smile was wide and face as pink as he collected himself, grateful that he was in his own office so he could freely feel.

H: Only a little bit? X

Y/N: Well if I said I missed you a lot I’d be a weirdo, wouldn't I? We just saw each other.

H: Well call me a weirdo too then, I suppose. Because I did.

H: A lot, if you couldn’t tell.

Y/N: You are very cute. I’ll be there in a few :)

—-

“Yeah, it’s kinda fucked.” Harry sighed as Y/N took his hand into her own from across the little table. “Usually I love a long session but I’ve been doing them a few days in a row. S’my own fault, but I was hoping for a tap out for once.” He laughed through his nose before it turned into a groan, feeling small thumbs begin to rub over his palm. Y/N pouted ever so lightly, moving in slow circles on the skin and digging in slightly before meeting his eye.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself.” The scold was lighthearted but he could see it on her face. She meant it. It made his chest flutter a little that she cared enough to do that. He was used to basically being on his own, mostly by choice but because it was easy for people to fake concern to get gossip- but he knew Y/N meant it. Her gentle massage on his hand, trying to ease his aching was a nice touch. Her half-drunk smoothie was in front of her, leaving her fingers cool to the touch and another nice addition to the soothing touch. “Shouldn’t wait for them to tap out. You should schedule them in smaller increments so you don’t put too much strain on your poor hands.” Y/N’s eyes met him for a moment before looking away. “They’re too pretty to be hurting.”

He had been surprised by the gall, if he was honest. Y/N had been a bit more shy when coming to this sort of thing but he was mentally preening, not able to hide the smile curling on his lips as he flexed his hand in her grasp. “Yeah? Think I’ve got pretty hands?” He hummed. “Got a bunch of calluses. Some scars. My nail polish is chipped.” Was he fishing for a compliment? A little bit. He wanted a few of them, especially when she had seemed to like his best tools.

“Of course. Just shows you work with your hands, know how to use them.” She stated. “It’s something a lot of people don’t know how to do anymore. The scars add character, and the nail polish is cute. It can always be redone.” She flipped his hand over but continued the slight massage, looking at his long, nimble fingers stretched over her wrists. He had a few rings on them which she knew he took off while tattooing, his fabric bracelets slightly worn besides the silver cuff on the non tattooed wrist. Harry liked to decorate his body and that was obvious. He’d told her he sometimes struggled with expression verbally, so she had a hunch that he used this to express himself. “And I also love the eyeliner thing. It’s attractive too.”

She tacked on the compliment and his smile grew into a grin, shaking his head as he squeezed over her hands with a laugh. “Laying on all the compliments today, yeah? D’want something from me?” All she had to do was ask. The shivers in his body made him more than willing to hand shit over on a silver platter. His eyeliner had been a few years ongoing, a simple charcoal pencil smudging around his eyes. Apparently it brought out the green even more and he did have a few colors. Perhaps one day Y/N would want to do it for him.

“No, no. Just figure people don’t do it as often as they should.” She sighed, dropping one of his hands to take a sip of her smoothie. The contact felt good. Especially since he kept a grip on her hand and swiped his thumb over the back of hers, the gentleness a stark contrast to the chain around his neck, metal on his face and ink on his skin. He was the opposite of what someone would expect, and somehow that made Y/N yearn for even more of him.

“Well.. Thanks. But I’d prefer you to be the one doing the compliments. I know you’re not full of shit.” His smirk made her scoff but she merely continued sipping before moving on. Surely many people meant the compliments they gave him but she knew that he wouldn’t believe them regardless. That was the thing about growing up with that sort of trauma. When you were bullied growing up, seen as a butt of a joke, it was harder to accept people’s genuine kindness. It saddened her immensely, but this wasn’t the place to unpack that.

“You’d have to be dead to not see how attractive you are, H. But I don’t want to give you too much of an ego boost or you’ll leave me in the dust.” Her foot nudged him under the table. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come over this weekend? I was thinking of trying out a few cookie recipes and I need a baking assistant- or at the very least, a taste tester.” She offered, trying to hide her nerves. They were at a weird crossroads of developing relationships. Not official, not exactly fully comfortable enough to be shooting plans the day of but still craving their company quite strongly. They weren’t seeing anyone else, at least she hoped so, but they didn’t have a label.

“Are you kidding?” He barked out a laugh. “Of fucking course I do. Used to help my nan back in the day in the kitchen. Christmas breads and sweets galore. You’ve got an old pro on your hands.” Was he vastly overvaluing his kitchen skills? A bit. He knew his way around decently enough, but he wanted to get that smile on her face- which succeeded.

“Oh, lovely.” She chirped. “Then yes, I’d love for you to come over. We’ll get something to eat because m’not sure either of us are going to want to be in the kitchen for more than the cookies.” He watched her nose wrinkle making his heart skip a beat. There were tiny Y/N mannerisms he wanted to get to know. This one in particular he found to be stupidly cute, each time it happened making him smile internally.

“Mhm. I understand. We’ve got a kitchen quota we don’t want to max out.”

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” A hand on her waist stopped her from taking another step further, Y/N grinning to herself as she paused in her step. She had done it just to see what Harry would do, and so far she had been correct. Her hopes had been granted.

“Hm? Home.” She grinned up at him, eyes not able to hide the mischief in them as she moved back towards him. “Is there a problem?”

“I think we need to establish a few things.” His voice dropped, crowding her back against her car. Y/N had started this but felt the air get sucked from her lungs as her back pressed agaisnt the cold metal of her door, eyes widening slightly as she was peering up at him with far less smugness as before. “I don’t like leaving without a proper goodbye, hm? And you know what I’m missing, yeah Darling?” of course she did. She had been aching for it just as badly, the tiny one she got in greeting not even half of the one she needed now, but she wanted to make him work for it a little bit.

“What’s that?” She hummed, biting her lower lip to try and control the grin threatening to break out on her face. The uncontrollable urge to giggle as he seemed to clock the look on her face, shaking his head at her and clicking his tongue while tilting her head up to meet him. It was the closest she could get to a swoon, sure there were little hearts in her pupils as he tapped the bottom of her lip and tugged it from her teeth.

Christ.

“I think you know.” He muttered. “Cruel, cruel little angel. What d’want from me, hm? Do you want me to beg?” His eyes scanned her face. “M’not one to get on my knees for that reason, but I think I could do so for you.”

Y/N’s knees felt weak as he pinned her with his stare, a quivering in her stomach making her blink rapidly at him. Get on his knees? She could only imagine what he did on his knees and the image of him peering up at her with his mouth tucked between her thighs and her knee over his shoulder, working to get his tongue up inside her made her feel hot all over. The mental image was precisely his goal, she found, as his grin rose back and morphed into a smirk as she barely held back a whimper when her lip was stroked by the thumb in question. She had played with the lion as a sweet little lamb, and found herself right in his jaws.

“N-No. Don’t have to beg, but I think it would be cute.” She cursed internally at the stutter, showing her weakness front and center as his face got a bit closer to hers, nose brushing the bridge of hers before moving down to the tip. Being this close made her dizzy, the sweet spice of his cologne and the mint of his gum overwhelming her. The man trapped her against her car, getting closer than she had been to a man in public, but she was pathetic. Internally she was gagging for it, tilting her head up to try and catch his mouth-

Only for him to pull back just enough to miss. A spark in his eye made her want to stomp her foot, the man teasing her more than she had anticipated. Y/N had tried to get the upper hand but it was obvious that the more comfortable he got, the more power he would wield with her. She had been a bit of a fool for thinking that a man like him wouldn’t turn this over, but she had felt like trying her luck.

“Cute? Think it would be cute?” He muttered under his breath. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But I know what this is, little angel. Prettiest little Sunflower, trying to tease me.” Realistically, Harry knew she hadn’t a clue about the true power she had over him, but he would let that remain a secret for a bit longer. “What I meant, by a proper goodbye… Is that I’d like to feel these pretty lips before you leave me.” There was an audible hitch in her throat, making him hold back the smile, ghosting his lips against hers. “You did something to me… m’convinced. Put a spell in your lipgloss or somethin’ like that. Made me crave it. I’m more of a gentleman these days, because the first thing I wanted to do was lick into this pretty little mouth when I saw you today. I controlled it, but I can tell it’ll be a problem later on down the line. I need something sweet to hold me over, y’feel me, doll?” He tapped her lip with his thumb, gently tugging it down before it snapped back up.

Y/N could barely breathe. Sometimes, she found, Harry had these bursts of being pure sex appeal. It was broken up by cute, soft and shy boy, but when he got in this sort of mood she found it hard to keep her vision from swimming. A floaty feeling, making her swallow thickly and nod in a jerking motion as she tried to get up on her tiptoes to catch his lips only to be deprived again. This time she did make a noise of frustration, brows furrowing as she looked at his hooded eyes. It wasn’t fair!

“Oh, m’sorry Sunflower. Couldn’t let you have it that easy when you were about t’leave me without a kiss. Got a mean streak in you, but I’ll take it. You’re sweet and tart, like a Cherry.” He laughed, leading her arm to loop over his neck. “If you’re good to me, I’ll be good to you. Give you what you want, maybe even more.” She was rewarded, finally, with a tiny kiss to her pout before pulling back. “But if you want to play games… You’ve gotta remember that m’a nasty competitor.”

Y/N could believe it. Harry oozed ‘win or nothing’ energy and she had tested it now, feeling how quickly she was going to fold. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to test this out when she had more resolve, but she had felt similarly to him the whole time. She wanted him just as badly, and playing with fire wasn’t cutting it right now. The only burn she wanted from him was a big of beard burn between her thighs. “M’sorry.” She whispered. “I’ll be sweet.”

“I heard a silent ‘for now’ after that, but that’s good enough for me.” He rewarded her heavily. Kissing her fully, capturing her lips between his own and pulling her into him as he did so. Harry kissed just how he looked. Intense, hot. She let out a little noise feeling his tongue brush past and the cool metal of his tongue piercing hit hers. It was another reminder of how he would definitely be one to blow her mind when he got on his knees for her, because Harry didn’t seem like the type to do anything half assed. He had the ability to make her feel like she was boiling inside and the only thing that could cool her down was his touch.

It was over too quickly, her thighs clenching together hard as she looked at him with bleary eyes. His face was self assured, a little smug and she was trying to recover. A squeeze was given to her chin, making her clear her vision as she was left a little unsatisfied. But would she ever really be truly satisfied when he took away his mouth? She could kiss him for hours and still feel like she wanted more. Their date was proof of that.

“See? I can be sweet when you are. Rewards.” His confidence blew her away, barely able to recover when he pressed another firm kiss to her mouth without giving her time to react. “Now go on and go get some supplies for our cookies, yeah? Text me when you’re there and when you’re home safe. I’ve got another two appointments.” He wished he could cancel them and just go with her but he didn’t want the rep, and also didn’t want to cling to her. As tempting as it may be, he wanted to start this right.

Y/N’s kiss still tingled on his lips as she drove away. He knew he was deep in the inky indigo waters of infatuation, but he didn’t think that was a bad thing. He’d learn to breathe underwater.

184 notes · View notes

bts5sosempire · 1 year ago

Text

the tyrant (viii)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5,852 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, mentions of infertility, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you." 𝐚/𝐧: I AM FINALLY DONE! Went pass the word limit istg. But hope y'all are ready what y/n is planning. 👀 btw, please like ❤️, comment in the "comment" section 📝 for tagging, and reblog 🔄 if you wish. Forgot I edited some parts in different chaps too, so if you see minor changes in them then I was fixing them.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Another few more months with the year ending, and another would mark the end of five years. Despite being bedridden, it had made you uneasy since spending the luxury time doing nothing had made you naught. Yumi and the personal servants who you had personally hired for your inner circle inside the castle had been keeping you posted up about your businesses from the outside. Everything was going well.

Holding the reports over the fire, it lights up when the corner catches, "I'm gonna leave for a bit." You told Yumi, who was alarmed by you.

They started to panic, "You already received your reports saying all is well; you shouldn't move around a lot." Yumi tried to sway your mind, but you had already stood up from your bed and in front of your long mirror.

With your arms stretched out, the personal servants you hired from the outside who knew about your secret come to your aid. They swiftly took off your attire and replaced it with your pseudo outfit. You rarely snuck out, but today you feel rebellious. Staying in bed may get you sick in staying in bed.

You turn around to grab Yumi by the arms and put her in your futon, "Stay here and be good." With a soft smile, you open the door and poke your head out and look around for a particular male valet. Outside, your room was quiet; everyone was prepping for dinner now and cleaning the dining area to feast later. "Where are they?" And right on cue, their eyes met yours when appearing from a corner, and they understood immediately when you nodded at them.

With the quick perception of their view, their feet race towards you. "Everyone is busy; it should take about two hours at most." They informed you with a bow, their gaze not meeting yours.

"Good," coming out of your room, your feet glide across the polished wooden boards as they tail closely behind you. Behind every castle are secret walls; you happened to know it by accident during your research days as becoming Seijuro Hajime. It somehow comes in handy now.

After making swift turns around the halls, you stop right in the middle of a wall that is made of a stack of jagged stone slabs building on top of another; its color that was once in the shade of grey birch is now darkened with tints of green. Its gap of lines was filled with green and yellow moss and heavy, unruly vibes hanging from above. The area you'll frequent quite a lot is an abandoned wing rumored to be a gorgeous garden but is now defiled by aging neglect. The large pond that was filled with colors of Koi fish is now empty with weeds and putrid water that is left behind by the rain. Chip redwoods of a bridge leading to a roofless gazebo that represents the heart and main attraction of the pond. Overall, everything is in bad condition.

Your fingers smoothly ran along every crevice and protruding bump of each slab, and it wasn't until you reached the smaller rock with a small mark that could go unnoticed under the human eyes if no one was paying attention to it. Faintly remembering the details at the back of your head, you push the rock, which caves into your strength.

There was a low rumble from within the walls, and debris fell from above the shaking forces. The wall split into two, and faint mechanic whirring gears could be heard. Torches mounted on the wall spring into life as each illuminates the dark long descending stairs ahead of you. Red wooden beams were worn for ages, also holding the tunnel. A faint smell of wet, sticky residue lingers in the air.

Well, that's ominous. You turn around to face the valet, and they bid you a half farewell, "Stay safe." Nodding at them, they press another adjacent block to the opening block, and the doors come sliding close.

You descend the stairs and follow one pathway until you reach the middle, where it diverges to three; if you remember, you should take the one on the right. It also says in the blueprint that there is a trigger for activating traps; right in the center is a hanging bell above. If the bell is cut loose, all the mechanisms within the walls will run. You eye the old rusted bell that is darkened with a barely color of copper resembling it.

"Did you miss me?" Someone throws themselves and wraps their arms around your neck behind you. You place a hand on top of the table to save yourself from toppling forward face-first into the food. The cup of warm tea of amber liquid spilled over your nimble fingers. Their scent entered your nose, and it was the same person you bumped into before. "You know you're very hard to find; I scoured the whole city." Sliding their arms around, that now occupied your arm, they sat beside you as if they were your lover.

Personal space for you is also gone.

You patiently set the cup down and grabbed the rag near the portable stove that warmed the teapot. Wiping away the spilled remnant, you inch away from the clingy woman by loosening your arm, but she only tightens it with a pout. For some reason, you don't think you understand the choice a young woman like her makes to try to be cute to get their way. I mean, you're a woman. That's why you're probably immune to it.

In the first place, you only came out here to be a spectator since, within your report, there should be two high clans born male heirs trekking through the city that Sukuna rules from Yuichi. But you doubt you can complete your task today if you don't do anything.

"It's rude not to look at the person talking to you. Do you know who I am?" They tugged your arm. "My older cousin runs this city, and I could have your head, too, you know?" It looks like it will be hard to get your attention, "My cousin is Sukuna Ryomen."

Upon hearing his name, you tried to remain indifferent, but you only let out a small huff of a laugh. 'This should be interesting to pass the time.' The woman thought throwing her cousin's name around would add weight and make her cave in, but it seemed to be doing the opposite effect. Without her knowing, you decided to amp up a charming facade. "The Sukuna Ryomen?" You turn your head to face her, and the coy smile that split across your lips made the woman frown. Why aren't you scared of her? "Do you know," you stare into those pomegranate eyes that share the same color as Sukuna, "throwing your cousin's name around isn't safe too? You're making yourself a target for-" your eyes roam around the room. A few people were looking your way, and the woman noticed it too and flushed red, "-those to take advantage of."

"If only you looked at me when I asked!" Kiriko fumbles out an excuse, and her face becomes hotter and red.

This makes you decide to toy with the woman. Since she has a relation to your supposed husband, it would be easy to probably get the information right if you knew how to ask. Although you think you wouldn't be able to, it's not hard for you to play around with her. "From what I heard, he isn't a good man."

"What do you know about him?" She bites back.

"He plays favorites with certain people, and there's this special wife he's rather fond of." You quip to get a reaction from her, and it seems to hit the mark. "I saw her a few times, and she's lovely that many of these city and village folks adore her. Got to say she's a woman after my own heart if she wasn't married."

"You shouldn't like her!" Kiriko jealousy spouted, and with a tug of your arm towards her, you thought she might yank it off its socket. "She might be pretending to be nice to make people like her! You should like someone genuine like me!" She declared, and this made you snort another laugh. A woman jumping the horse, it seems. You don't know what she has heard about you, but it is pretty amusing. "What? You don't believe me?" Now she sounds offended.

"It's not that I don't believe you," wanting to tease her more, you swoop in closer to her, "but I don't believe in tarnishing another person just on baseless rumors or what they have or heard against her." Kiriko shrinks back from the sudden closeness. She was quiet, and then you turned your attention away from her. "Sir," you raise a hand to pay for your tab. Once they're near, you drop the payment into their outstretched hands.

Sliding your arm out of their hold, you lighten up your pace with the woman chasing after you. "Wait!" They shouted after you, and you made eye contact with a nearby seller who understood what you indicated. The seller grabbed a bucket of water and poured it onto the ground right after Kiriko was close enough to be after you. Kiriko shrieks out when the lower half of her attire is wet. "Watch where you throw that dirty water, you peasant!"

"Ah, I'm sorry, Miss." They awkwardly apologize.

Kiriko bites the bottom of her lip and looks at your back; you don't even turn around to check if she's alright. She watches your figure disappear into the heads of an endless crowd with a little bit of resentment. She'll make you look her way no matter what since she wants to take you back to her homeland as a spouse by the end of her stay, even if it's by force.

[at a random inn]

"So what's the deal?" You suddenly appeared by Yuichi's side, who got slightly spooked.

"You got to stop doing that," the man told you; he put a hand over his chest. You only laugh and cross your arms before looking below from the second floor. Yuichi saw you spectating two males who stood out like a sore thumb in the crowds of primary cotton colors clothing of grey, dark grey, and brown. "I thought you weren't going to come?"

"And miss this glorious sight?" You humor Yuichi but cut it short too. "I must return to the castle soon, or my covers blow. So who are they?" Motioning the two rich strangers talking lowly to one another, Yuichi tilts his head slightly toward you.

"The one in deep indigo is Totsuwa Iriyu; from my sources that I have people gathered around, his family used to serve the Emperor before they fell from grace. The funny thing is your husband was involved with their family, and there were speculations that he took them off from the Inner Circle of the Emperor Hoshu." Yuichi explains, and you thought that might be something Sukuna would do. "And the one in dark green is Mugetsu Rintoru, and he's that buddy, in the deep indigo best friend too. He also has a problem with your husband too."

"Everybody seems to have problems with Sukuna; I'm unsurprised." Amusement dances across your lips, "How long are they planning to stay?"

"Approximately up to three weeks since they did get an invitation from Sukuna." Now that made you raise an eyebrow.

"Guess invitation isn't what is going in their mind too; nobody comes here in Sukuna's land with no pure thoughts since he is the most sought after when it comes to wealth. And revenge." You then un-latch your arms and pat Yuichi's biceps. "I'll approach them in my time, but keep an eye on them."

Your servants all scamper away when Sukuna walks through the hall; they all refuse to look up but still greet him in acknowledgment. But the one that felt like they were getting a heart attack was the one who was your spies. Sukuna had come to pick you up for dinner quite early. They all gave each a look to see who would intercept him. There was a back-and-forth motion of 'No, you' between the servants. But it wasn't until Sukuna positioned himself in front of them they all hesitantly looked up.

"L-Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) is still resting." One squeaks out in fear; despite being hired by you, they still fear Sukuna.

"Move aside," he commanded.

"She wishes not to be disturbed, My Lord." The same person quickly interjected.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, "Do you wish to die?" He glowers down at them, and they all shrink back. "Now. Move. Aside." Sukuna said each word with heavy and daunting syllables, and the servants sidestepped demurringly. If their heart could leap out of their chest, this would be the best time.

Before Sukuna could open the door, it slid open, and there was you. "What's with all this commotion?" You don't need to look at your servants who tried to stop Sukuna lets out breaths of relief. Sukuna peaks over your head and sees books lying on your table.

Sukuna: "Thought you were resting, no?"

You: "I did; I woke up a while ago."

Without further ado, you try to bypass Sukuna, but he takes good of your hand. You wanted to rip it from his hold without causing much fuss, but he tightened his grip. "You seem well enough now; your colors are back." He took steps with you side by side.

"You are already starting to make me sick," exasperation released from your voice when you tugged your hand again, and Sukuna tutted at you.

"There's that tone that I've missed," he purrs, and if he's successfully getting under your nerves, he's doing a great job. You were clenching your jaws. "I've got something to show you after dining too." From his tone, Sukuna was rather excited; it was only a slight pitch lighter.

[excution field]

A heavy fur coat was draped around your shoulders. You don't understand why he brought you here right after eating. Most of all, the execution ground. You got a hand to cover the smell. Sukuna leans heavily behind you with his arms encasing you; somehow, this feels familiar, like that one day. Once again, you attempted to shrug him off, but it always made him want to be closer to you.

There was fresh blood over the dried blood; even the stench of death couldn't be erased from this place. You never really visited the site; this was the first time in five years you had set foot on the ground where innocent sinners came to die by Sukuna's final resolution. "I like you to be the first to witness something that could lead me to more winning conquest." He said, leaning his head low and letting his lips touch your ears; Sukuna's breath fans over one side of your face. You silently tilt your head to look up at him; questions linger in your eyes.

Sukuna was jittering in excitement, and this was something. You rarely see him like this; he can be proud and loud within his moments. This is something new. He's barely contained.

Sukuna lets himself be away from you, which makes you inwardly happy. "Bring it out!"

It didn't take two frightening retainers to bring out a wooden craftsman box. Sukuna flipped the lid open, and inside, it was presented to be some long metal rod with wood attachments. You were observing not too far away from Sukuna. Sukuna lifts it out of its case and settles an aim. "Get the prisoners too." You recognize that black powder from anywhere when Sukuna pops the lid open and pours it into the opening of the barrel. Then he used a rod to push the powder more profoundly into the narrow tunnel before setting the breech on fire.

"What are you doing?" You ask him; somehow, dread-filled your chest when you saw three people lined up and tied to a thick wooden pool. You can hear their whimpers from where you're at.

"You'll see," was all he said; Sukuna leveled the weapon up and above over his shoulder as he aimed again, then pulled the trigger with a steady finger.

BANG!

The sound made you jump; you instinctively covered your ears in fright with your heart hammering, as did the people far and near to witness. Smoke came from the weapon, but it was pushed away and dissipated into the atmosphere by the wind. What you were looking at wasn't the weapon itself but the person tied to the wooden stake. Their head was blown clean right off, just from this distance where Sukuna stands.

Is this what he wanted to show you? The future? How it's going to be in his hand?

"Did I spook you? Sorry," Sukuna carefully put the weapon back into its case and walked toward you; he took your hands from your ears and slotted them into his own. Your eyes wouldn't move away from the headless corpse; it was stuck wide open, witnessing the scene. It wasn't until you blinked again and pulled your hands back from his hold then your curiosity overtook.

You: "What did you do to them?"

Sukuna: "It's obvious what I did, didn't it?"

You: "Yes, you did. I'm asking what kind of weapon was that."

Sukuna glances over his shoulder before covering the view by stepping to the side when you try to take another look. "I must admit, the Portuguese did come with something this time. It's a Matchlock rifle. It's one of the prototypes, not permanent yet."

"A rifle? You can kill someone from this distance?" Your furrowed brows and contorted face of confusion almost make Sukuna lose composure. This is undoubtedly the first time in a while that you have been interested in something and was willing to talk with him, without sassing back, of course.

"Even further, too," Sukuna confirm. "But like I said, this is just a prototype, not yet decided. I want to talk to the Portuguese and have a room ready for one of their men to stay behind and modify the rifle with me."

You: "Why modify it when it's already deadly enough as it is?"

Sukuna: "Not deadly enough to my liking."

You were back to your room and became a sitting duck again. 'If Sukuna could get that weapon, then we're screwed.' When evolution for weapons couldn't get any better or worse, you almost felt worried. Sukuna would indeed be able to conquer land much more and faster, but with that rate, even the death of others he's going to take isn't going to remain stagnant anymore.

More bloodshed and the lives of others will continue to bleed over this land of Japan.

"Get this letter to Yuichi as fast as possible tomorrow during your shift outside; we need information." You fold the letter with deft hands and give it to a male retainer. "Be careful."

"Lady (Name), you have a gift from Sultana Aida." Yumi hands you a box, and it is wrapped neatly. "It was sent earlier when you were in the...field."

You took the box and unwrapped the red sash around it. Sultana Aida has sent you self-care items, especially body oil, and cream. The scent was sweet and fresh, not overpowering enough to give you a headache. The oil inside the clear bottle was in a rich hue of gold, and the body cream was sealed tightly in a jar too. Sultana Aida had a penchant for making perfume and women's essential needs. You met them over a year ago during a foreign meeting.

"Send a gift back to her." You told Yumi, who nodded and went outside to where there is a room where you store all your possession and gifts.

[night time]

There was a fluid snap of your doors being open and closed; the person who always comes into your room as they please is Sukuna himself. Through the bronze mirror, you could see Sukuna in his loose attire, which exposed the skin of his partial chest once he was close enough to where the lantern light could reach. You applied the body cream you received today to your neck before Sukuna settled himself behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist and chin upon your shoulder.

You froze for a quick second. Sukuna closes his eyes in bliss to take in the scent. "This smells nice." Even if he notices your discomfort, he doesn't care at the moment, not right now. He nuzzles his nose closer until it presses against your neck, and the warm breath of his seeps through your skin and into the thinness of your night clothes. You close the lid over your body cream and set it aside.

"What do you want?" Your eyes remain on the mirror, which shows how relaxed Sukuna is; he got you in between his legs as they were propped up to where his knees were bending. There was a deep inhale from him.

"I can't even be here in my own home?" He inquired, "I'm here to spend the night with you." That made you decisively rip his arm off around your waist.

"No, you're not," you shot back and marched away from him to create a distance. "You have plenty of women in your harem who wanted to spend time with you," on the other side of the room, you defiantly look at the man, who gives you a lop side grin.

"I'm not bedding you, not right now." Sukuna restates your thoughts, "Just sleeping side by side." Your face was stoned, but it was enough for Sukuna to tell that you didn't believe him when your brows twitched. There was a 'huh' from you, and you were gunning for the door, and in a flash, Sukuna had you in his embrace again. Another momentarily struggle from you when you start to kick and tell him repeatedly to let you go. "Don't," he whispered huskily into your ear, "I won't do anything, I promise." The man carried you by the waist with both arms and settled down with you in a slump onto the large futon.

Sukuna loosened his arms, and you slithered away to the other side of the bed and got under the cover with your back turned to him. He wanted to push the boundaries, but he wouldn't. Getting under the surface, too, he remains still watching the slope of your curves highlighted by the sheet and your back rising and falling. Sukuna gathered your hair that was pools around the gap in between you both and played with the ends; he let them loop around his forefinger before running a thumb over the silk feeling of it. He then brings the strands to his lips and kisses them to bid good night to you.

Then the light went out.

You roll over in bed and bring the blanket under your chin to snuggle in deeper. But why did something feel heavy around you? There was difficulty opening your eyes, and when you did, sleep didn't completely fade away as drowsiness was still evident. If it weren't for the hand patting your back to lull you back to sleep, then you would've done so. "Go back to sleep." With a heavy grave tone that slinks into one of your senses, the haze of sleep washes away. Angling your head up, you see the fondness in Sukuna's eye and push him away in shock with an 'ack,' and Sukuna only rolls onto his back in bed. The man almost laughs at your reaction. Quickly sitting up in bed, you didn't realize how bright the room was when your face was scrunched up and brought the bed sheet up to your chest. Even outside was quiet.

Sukuna almost forgot you make so many faces during sleep and even when you wake up, although not this much. There was a yawn from you as you covered it with both hands, then you swept your hands through your hair. "It's almost near ten if you're wondering." He repositioned himself again on the futon, laying on his side with one leg propped up while he used one hand to support his head under his chin.

"Get out," voice groggy; you stood up from the bed to prepare for the day, but Sukuna reached across the bed and brought you back down.

"You should sleep in more; you look adorable when sleeping." Sukuna teases you, and by instinct, you try to tear your wrist away, but this further fuels him to bring you into his arms and lock you up. Cradling you, he brushes a few strays of hair out. The push and pull you both had is almost desirable to other women in the harem. Sukuna in the morning looks different, nearly too humane for your liking. When he brushes the hair aside, he lingers his hand on the apple of your cheek and brings his lips to kiss the top of your head. Your reaction was like a cat sprayed with water, always struggling. "I almost forgot; good morning to you too." The body scent you had acquired sticks to you so well that it is only what pheromones entirely throughout the night. Maybe this is the scent he likes, besides your natural scent.

"I took some time off from my affairs and decided to tend to you." If you look offended, you do indeed; anything he does for you sounds like an offense. The foreign topic of him trying to soften you up always seems helpless, but Sukuna has time to try everything; a man like him is never out of ideas.

"I don't need you to," glaring at Sukuna, his smiles widened even more, and you took the liberty to push his face away when he closed up again with your other free hand.

[afternoon]

He was serious when he said he wouldn't leave you alone. You wanted to be by yourself, but he made it difficult. Not only had he dismissed everyone who served under you and told them that their service wasn't needed for the day, but he was also hand-hogging you.

Sukuna grabs your hand, and you forcefully pull it away; he does it again, and you repeat it. This childish play continues until he grasps it tightly, forcing you to walk side by side. "Let go." You wiggle your hand, trying not to lose composure, and Sukuna swiftly plays with your fingers and separates them from interlocking his with yours to tighten the hold.

"No," that one-word answer from him had you wish you could disappear into the air magically. "I made a promise, and I intended to keep it." Sukuna brings you even closer as you bump into his arm.

You both were walking to nowhere, only letting your feet guide you and him around the fortress ground. It wasn't until Asuna's head appeared in your view that Danzo's tugged his mother's hand to tell his mother he wanted to visit you quickly.

"Danzo?" You call from a few feet away, and the little boy brightens. He lets go of Asuna's hand and runs toward you at full speed, and knocks himself into your legs. Danzo smiles happily at you, and you use your free hand to pat the boy's head. Asuna greeted you and Sukuna while lingering where she stood. Her eyes trail to your and Sukuna's hands which are interlocked tightly. As a spectator, the scene ahead of her almost makes it seems like a perfect family of three should be if Danzo were yours, even though you were awkward in showing affection to Danzo in front of Sukuna. She kept seeing you side-eying the taller man, who was observing every millimeter of interaction. Asuna's son was very fond of you during the first meeting, even if he had misunderstood you for being a character from a book. Although you don't mind interpretation, you were rather genuine in your exchange with Danzo.

"Have you been good?" You readjust the multiple layers of collars of Danzo's clothing, fixing any creases. Danzo nodded rapidly with a hum.

"Use your mouth," Sukuna spoke up, and you again side-eye him. Danzo's little body tensed up at the sound of his father. You pretended to wiggle your hand in Sukuna's and elbow his side purposely, and he saw a subtle disapproving eye and a frown from you. You were peeved with his tendencies. Why be a grown man picking on a child, especially his own? Even his half-brother was treated almost the same.

Before you can open your mouth to comfort the child, multiple voices enter the yard. Out and emerge from the corner is Eisha with her daughter and Sena accompanying the crown matriarch along with a few minor concubines. Everyone was locking eyes with each other and stopped their idling talking. Eisha (along with Sena) picked up on how close you were to Sukuna, and a knot formed in her chest when the apparent physical contact of hand-holding was the first thing she saw. A tight-lipped wry gambol set on her lips as she greeted Sukuna and ushered her daughter, Eri, to do the same, so the rest followed suit. But her eyes flickered to Danzo's last second; he was also close. Eisha knew that Asuna's son wasn't a thought in Sukuna's mind as he was just one of the many children he sired. Still, it tickles her interest why he was so close when her daughter wasn't granted the same physical closeness but a mere glance.

"Greetings Lord Sukuna/ Father." Then the rest greeted you, besides Eisha, due to ranking. You give the rest acknowledgment with a thin nod and adequately greet Eisha only. "What brings you all out here, Lord Sukuna?" She inquires with pique curio sitting at the back of her mind.

"Thought it would do Lady (Name) good for some fresh air." Then Sukuna turns the question to Eisha, "And what are you doing out here? You are frail and susceptible to the cold, which could worsen your health."

"I'm glad that you ask Lord Sukuna," she then pulls Eri forward in front of her by the hand gently. Almost as if she wants Sukuna to acknowledge the child. "I came out here with Eri for a walk after her studies." There was only a flat 'oh' from Sukuna, and from how he sounded, it lacked interest. Even Sena picks up on the tone, and that pricks a nerve. If Sukuna doesn't even care about her two previous children, then why would he care about Eri at all? Even in your presence, he doesn't seem to show filial affection towards them.

"I see; carry on with your walk then." Sukuna quickly dismissed them, but Eisha wasn't willing to let go.

"If I could, would Your Lordship, Lady (Name), and Concubine Asuna allow us to join your route?" Eisha wouldn't allow you and Asuna to be alone with Sukuna. And behind her back, she made a hand sign which the lower-ranking concubines understood and made a quick excuse to leave the yard. So now that only leaves her, Eri, and Sena. What Eisha did, didn't escape Sukuna's vision; that only made him take a deep and intolerable sigh inwardly.

All he asked for was one day with you without interruption.

For Asuna, she thought this timing couldn't be any worse with the visible tension brewing. She could tell that Sukuna's mood had floundered a bit since, after all, he was only out here to be with you. Then she focused on you, which she could say for once; your mood seemed to be in sync with Sukuna, although you wanted to get rid of him.

Two weeks later, two figures on separate horses rode up and stopped by the entrance.

"So this is Sukuna's mighty castle, huh?" Mugetsu's keen eyes search every nook and cranny of the building to see how well the fortress is built. Then there's Totsuwa, who already feels the regret setting in. He only accepted the invitation out of sheer impulsiveness and hatred for the pink hair man, and now the feelings somehow dissolved once he made it to Sukuna's Hell doorstep. It was easy for Totsuwa to imagine himself slaying the demon and reclaiming all his honor, power, and glory that Sukuna had muddled; he even talks significantly about it in his drunken stupor at an inn a week back.

"Don't be a chicken now, Iriyu," Mugetsu teases his best friend, "we might be able to learn more about our enemy." Somehow that doesn't sound comforting to Totsuwa, even when their tone is meant to lighten him up.

Getting off their horses, they handed the reins to a stable boy and looked for someone with deep pink and white hair. It wasn't hard to spot them when they were wearing their white garment. "Hello, Lord Mugetsu and Lord Totsuwa; I am Uraume, Lord Sukuna's retainer." They greet the two men with a proper bow, "If you would please follow me, I'll guide you two."

Mugetsu tapped Totsuwa's arm a few times, "They look pretty," he whispered, eyeing Uraume's back, "if only I wasn't married and they weren't your buddy's retainer, then I would've gotten them."

"Please, for the love of God, shut up!" Totsuwa whispers right back to his friend. "You always say that to every pretty woman you walk by!"

Mugetsu: "I can't help it, though."

[sukuna's office]

"Whoa..." Surprise color Mugetsu and Totsuwa when they saw not just the room but you seated a foot away from Sukuna. Rumors about the favorite wife do hold.

"Stop ogling at my wife," the pink-haired man snapped, brows drawn together into a scowl with the corner of his lip quirking up, and a tongue click could be heard. Sukuna wasn't sure why you insisted on being here; he would let you join any other meetings, but why this one? He doesn't know. There was a smidge of hesitation presenting at the back of his mind even though he tried to push it away logically; it always came back up. However, Sukuna wouldn't let it show. During the last two weeks, you and he had an on-and-off time together, the same usual push and pull. Still, you somehow had inserted yourself into his schedule willingly today with the promise of being interested in politics.

Sukuna had warned you it would be boring to dissuade you from this meeting, but you brought up a point, "You were the one who allowed me to visit your meetings, but now you won't let me?" Point taken, and now here you are. In the logical aspect, this allows Sukuna to spend time with you. Albeit not the way how he wanted it. But he couldn't brush away the nagging thought that it didn't feel right for you to be here.

Taglist: @sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samdric @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958 @shadowywizardarcade @huicitawrites @baji-keisukes-wife @choso-wifey @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @sanderaen @peonnnny @tiredlattes @waytomanyhusbands @whatamidoing89 @utena-akashiya @outrofenty @welcometodemonschoolfan @im-a-killer-queen @loverisa @bubera974 @sashaphantomhive @chaoticstrawberryland @onetwo123three @sxftiebee @bbrrose @gretel-gravain @slasherflickchick @floraroselaughter @kikis-art @21yumna @lifegosoana @sob4 @unknown-204 @dathoe @dellalyra @noot-noot-noooooooot @goldenglow149 @sukunabitch @guccirosegold @aesthetic-faye @kakeruko14 @roseki @levisbadbitch @divxnee @dvmekarina

1K notes · View notes

hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

blue collar man

4.1k / joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend Joel is up to his ears busy with his contracting business. Tired and sore, he comes home to learn you’ve made the rest of the night all about him.

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: Fluff, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, fluffy fluff fluff because blue collar man Joel Miller deserves it! He’s running a biz-ness!

A/N: based on this lovely request! I hope I could bring your request to life, I breezed through it so fast because I love him, he’s baby.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him. “Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

Joel had found a lot of success with Miller Contracting over the summer months. Business was booming and his early mornings until late nights were dedicated to working on multiple projects to get things done on time for his clients. Joel worked on referrals mostly, so when he finished a client’s remodeled hill country home in late winter, the client had raved over Joel’s professionalism and hard work to their friends and now he had a list of upcoming projects.

Truthfully, you didn’t know much about contractors until you started dating Joel. You quickly began to understand the vastness of his duties. One day he could be working on home renovation projects where he was doing demolition like removing the walls or floors, electrical and plumbing work, flooring installation, even down to the last coat of paint.

Other opportunities were commercial like on a small office building downtown where he did site preparation, set the foundation, worked on the beams and columns, all the way up to finishing the roof. Whatever he couldn’t do himself that was a bit more specialized, he hired subcontractors to work on like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning.

What he hated the most was landscaping projects. He’d have to do the design layout of a large backyard garden and plant trees and flowers or work on seeding grass if it was a particularly hot Texas summer. Then he would add irrigation systems like sprinklers, pathways for people to walk on, pergolas for outdoor hosting, finishing it off with pretty and unique outdoor light fixtures. God forbid the client wanted a pond.

“Do you know how annoying koi fish are? They just… stare at ya while you’re tryin’ to work.”

You had grown to love the handy man that Joel was. Before you were moved in to his place, your shitty little apartment needed so much love that your asshole landlord never took the time to come and fix. But Joel would. That was his form of romance. He didn’t bring you flowers or chocolates on the first dates. Joel was replacing your leaky shower head and tightening your jiggly door knobs. He also managed to match the paint color on your walls so he could cover up the scrapes he made after he railed you into your mattress so hard that the frame made a few chips.

You were so happy to see his business getting the high recognition it deserved, however, Joel was taking quite the beating from it. You could tell by the way he slinked back into the house at the end of the night, his frame hunched over and walking with a slight limp.

He was sore, muscles aching and knees screaming at him. His joints were swollen by the end of the day and his sweaty, sticky skin ached for a refreshing shower.

The hardest part was always trying to shut off his mind when he got home. He was already thinking about the next day. What didn’t get done on time, what shipments of supplies were expected, how the delays would set the project back. He needed a break.

“Can’t take time off right now, baby. I’ve got deadlines to meet.”

There was this one specific project that was giving him hell. He called it the Astor because it was on Astor street. Every night this week he had come home beyond late because of the problems with the Astor. First it was that the project was exceeding the client’s budget, so they were giving him grief about that. Then it was labor shortage stuff, not being able to get people out there which then in turn caused timeline delays. With the client out of the country most of the time, Joel was receiving little to no communication from the owner. He was fighting permit and regulatory issues with the city, every day it was something new that caused a headache behind his eyes.

His dedication was admirable, but you knew that him being so physically and mentally clouded wasn’t good for him or for Miller Contracting.

You didn’t know shit about contracting, but you did know Joel.

You had texted him earlier in the day to drop whatever he was working on no later than 5 o’clock in the evening. You never did that, never told him to leave work early. But the last thing he wanted was for him to come home and have you upset with him. That was worse than any project issue.

Tonight would be about Joel. Anything you could do to make the stress melt away, you would try.

Joel pushed open the front door once home, a heavy sigh leaving him as he closed the door back in place and set his lunch box and keys down on the entry table.

“Joel?” Your voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Hi, baby.” His voice was low from the lack of energy.

Joel slowly moved down on one knee, a heavy breath exiting through clench teeth as his kneecaps throbbed while he untied one boot, then the other. They were covered in dust even down to the creases, steel toe covers making his feet sore.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you grabbed a dish towel to wipe your hands with before tossing it on the counter, greeting him halfway as he made his way through the living room.

You were up on your tippy toes for a kiss, not wanting him to have to bend over and exert himself. He hated when you treated him like an old man, but with this job, you always teased him that it was coming sooner rather than later.

He kept his hands to himself, knowing they were a bit greasy and sweaty. His overgrown beard hairs tickled your face as you peppered him with a few extra kisses, one of his eyebrows playfully raising.

“Was fine. Did you see what I texted you?” He asked as he looked down at you, watching as your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, helping lift it off his head.

“Mhm. The HVAC guys didn’t show up until noon even though you scheduled them for nine in the morning. Did you see I texted you back? Five hours ago.” Your teasing tone made him crack a smile.

Joel was bad at texting. Typical guy thing, typical older guy thing. He said he wouldn’t even have a phone if it wasn’t for work and if Sarah didn’t insist on how texting was the new way of communication. Even though you texted him ten minutes after his initial one, his phone was already back in his pocket and he had long forgotten about your conversation as he returned to his work day.

His response came out in a chortle, a heavy breath through his nose since he was too tired to chuckle.

“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to complain, I guess.” He said as he watched you fiddle with his Miller Contracting shirt that had a worn in hole by the neckline. He went to reach for it, wanting to toss it into the dirty clothes bin, but you were quick to hold it to your chest.

“I’ve got it.” You said as you went to give him a soft kiss to the open plane of his chest, smiling at the salt and pepper chest hair he was sporting. It looked so good on him. You walked off to the bedroom and did it yourself, grabbing him a fresh shirt for the rest of the evening, a pair of boxers, and his worn dark plaid pajama pants he liked.

Joel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. A heavenly smell was drawing him into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. You had green beans in a frying pan and a gravy softly bubbling in a sauce pan. Then in a skillet was the most perfect looking chicken fried steak, the coating coming to the perfect crisp. He pulled the oven handle open just an inch to see golden biscuits rising.

“I put clean clothes on the counter in the bathroom, go shower, handsome.” You said before returning to the kitchen, frowning as he found his dinner before you had a chance to plate it.

“Joel.” You playfully scolded, pinching at his hip. “You’re ruining your own surprise.” You teased as you shooed him out of the kitchen, hearing an audible grumble in his stomach. It made you sport a proud grin. It was his favorite meal, said it reminded him of his mom’s cooking growing up with Tommy.

“I’m making mashed potatoes, too.” You said as you drained the water the potatoes were soaking in, putting them in a new bowl and getting out some milk and butter.

“You’re makin’ me hungry.” He hummed with a small, tired smile as his hands came up loosely on your hips.

His hands on you instantly made you grin, gently shaking your head at him as his head came to rest by your own.

“You’re distractin’ me.” His low voice carrying the weight of his day.

“No, you’re distracting me.” You made clear as your elbow playfully dug into the core of his stomach.

“Go shower, please. You smell like drywall dust… and paint.”

He rolled his eyes with his smile still lingering.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” He said as his lips dropped down to place a sweet kiss of sincerity at the base of your neck, a shiver rolling up you as you let out a huff and returned your focus to your five-star meal.

You heard the water hit against the shower wall and his small radio crackled to life, finalizing the last touches to Joel’s favorite dinner.

Joel came back to the living room in the clothes you had set out for him, his hair slicked back wet from his shower. God, he looked so good.

“Here.” You handed him his plate, seeing his lips part in excitement. His stomach let out an audible rumble. He probably didn’t have a spare minute to eat his lunch today, poor thing.

The two of you settled on the couch, Joel expecting you to turn on one of your shows since a new episode came out today.

“Do you uhm.. Maybe wanna watch one of those movies where they’re flying the jet planes? You said you wanted to show me it a while ago.” You offered, glancing over to see him already inhaling his food with the fork scraping across the plate to not let a single bit of gravy escape him. But your offer made him pause.

“You wanna watch Top Gun? You hate Tom Cruise.”

“Well, yeah, he seems kind of like a douchebag, but it’s okay.” His eyes narrowed on you as he thought about your offer but ultimately shook his head, shrugged, and kept eating.

“‘t’s fine, you can put somethin’ on.” He said as he stabbed a green bean, smeared some mashed potatoes on it before putting it past his lips.

You took a deep breath and issued him the remote control.

“You pick something tonight, honey. It’s your night.”

That caught Joel’s attention. His head whipped a little to fast towards you, his thick eyebrows furling at the concept.

“‘t’s not my night. It’s a Thursday.”

The look you gave him set him straight.

“Okay, okay.. It’s my night.” He declared in playful defense, taking in a deep breath through his nose and opted for some old Western show he liked. You didn’t care much for it, but Joel did.

Once you two finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table and discarded, your head was on his shoudler and your hand ran slow, soothing circles over his chest. You could feel him breathing deeply, relaxing with you.

You asked him questions about the main characters, showing genuine interest. Even going as far as to add a dramatic gasp when a shot was fired from a cowboy’s revolver which made him let out a hearty laugh.

“You’re so full of it.”

He was talking with a huge grin, you could hear it in how he spoke, and it warmed your heart.

Towards the end of your night, your hands were in yellow dish gloves as you washed your plates from dinner, sliding the clean ones between the dividers of your drying rack.

Joel slipped his strong arms low around your waist, his burly shoulders pressing into your own as you nearly toppled over with his presence

“Thanks for dinner tonight. Hit the spot.” He said as he kissed your cheek then on a spot where your jawline met your neck, right by your ear. His beard hairs tickled. You could feel that they were freshly trimmed now, he probably felt a lot better.

“Night’s not over yet.” You hummed, a playful smile on your lips that he was quick to take notice of.

“Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, rolling your eyes a bit as you dug your elbow into his stomach for the second time tonight to put some space between you.

“Okay, cowboy. Relax. How about you go to the bedroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be there in a sec.” Your choice of words were still leading him in a different direction, you almost felt bad. But it was funny watching him get worked up.

After finishing the dishes and blowing out the eucalyptus scented candles, you peaked into your bedroom. Joel was still cautiously removing his shirt, moving slow as to not disturb his aching muscles. You hated seeing him come home every night like this, as if his body had just been in a fight and taken a brutal beating.

Joel undid the clasp of his watch, the band and watch face dirty and making digging a bruise into his wrist, but it told the time. He felt better after his shower, having made it a steamy one to relax the stinging in his upper neck and shoulders as well as his lower back.

His belly was good and full, happy to have something homemade rather than a quick pizza in the oven or just a cold bottle of beer before bed.

You were taking care of him tonight. Not that you didn’t every other night. He was actually giving you the time to take proper care of him. It felt off at first, taking on all the attention he usually reserved for you after long days. But maybe it’s what he needed.

His head turned as he felt a warm pair of arms circle just above his plaid pajama pants, your soft fingers undoing the knot he had tied in the front of them.

“I would’a taken my pants off for ya if you’d just ask.” His tone taunting, stepping out of the soft material before spinning in your arms and attempting to scoop you into him.

“Lay back, goofball.” You said with that gleaming smile of yours. Made his stomach twist. Whatever you had planned, you obviously wanted the lead on.

He did as instructed, happily falling into the comfort of the mattress with ease.

“Close your eyes, please.” Your voice was sweet like honey. He’d follow it into the shadows, into hell, more likely into heaven since it’s where Joel thought you belonged.

He could already fall asleep, though it was no later than eight. He felt the bed dip first at his legs, your body shifting up to sit by his hip. His hand naturally felt out for you, his warm palm holding you at the curve of your lower back.

When Joel was given the okay to open his eyes again, he was surprised to see a few candles lit around the room, the golden glow adding a bit of ambiance.

He watched as you squirted a few pumps of a lotion in your hands, circling it up in your palms to make it a little warm before you started to lather it into his calves.

The sensation made his breath hitch. You were giving him a massage? He sat up on his elbows and watched the white-ish cream get all wrapped up in his dark leg hair.

“Darlin’-”

“Shh.”

He tightened his lips, feeling a bit futile all of a sudden. There was a pause before he spoke again.

“Don’t have to do this for me.” He insisted, his eyes on yours, but you were focused on adding subtle pressure to his calf muscles.

“Know I don’t have to. I want to. Lay back down.”

You wanted to. You wanted to take time out of your evening and bathe him in attention. You had cooked one of his favorite meals, and to perfection he might add. You also let him watch a show he wanted to watch, something he knew you didn’t have a taste for. But you were intrigued anyway, to show you cared.

He was so comfortable and at ease, the problems of today didn’t seem to matter much anymore when you were here to greet him so lovingly.

Your fingers kneaded gently into his skin, Joel’s eyes dipping closed as he began to sink deeper into the mattress. Of course he couldn’t just do nothing. He had his warm palm splayed on your back where the shirt you were wearing was riding up a little bit. You smiled at the gesture. No matter how much effort you tried to dedicate to Joel, he was still showing his care even when he was dead exhausted.

You worked the lotion up into his thighs, the slight tug on his hairs making his face crinkle a little. You dared not to get too high, again, not to give him the wrong idea of where the massage was heading. It was okay to be just attentive to his needs for tonight. You could relax him in other more sensual ways another time. He needed something a little deeper.

You leaned down and peppered sweet kisses up his torso and over those salt and pepper chest hairs you admire so much, stopping just at his lips with a small smile.

“So handsome.” You praised in a whisper, kissing him with a grin on your lips.

He hummed softly and moved his hand to gently cup the back of your head, keeping your kind presence in his proximity just a moment longer.

“I’m getting too old for you.” He whispered back in a teasing tone, making you bubble up a laugh in your shared space.

“You’ve always been too old for me.” Your thumb gently glided over his chin and admired a small white patch just at the base where his neck sloped down. “But I’ve never minded. Because you’re a good man. A hard working, blue collar man. It’s very sexy.” You teased with a smile, happy to see one blossom on his lips as well.

“Thanks for treatin’ me so good tonight. This week’s been…” he let the sentence die before shaking his head.

“I know, Joel.” You said with a small nod before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips again before sitting up straight.

“Wanna roll over and I’ll do your shoulders?”

He let out a breathless laugh as he looked up at you. “Please.” Like you had to ask.

He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but boy, maybe he should start asking for it.

Joel moved to lay on his belly, letting out a short groan in the process that made your chest flutter.

You let out a short huff before you straddled his back, topping yourself right on his butt after getting a short groan from Joel for being on his tailbone.

More lotion was squirted into your hands before you started to apply it across the landscape of his back.

“We should do a skincare night.” You said, feeling his body shudder at the cold lotion.

“Uh what?” Joel’s voice muffled against the comforter, his head to one side so he could see you just out of his peripheral.

“You know what skincare is, you see me do it every night.”

“I don’t know what the he-ll you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He said, his words stuttering as you pushed particularly harder in his lower back. Jeez, it was knot after knot under your fingertips.

“Ugh, Joel!” You whined as your motions paused.

Joel had a habit of doing this. Declaring he had no idea what it was that you were talking about, making you tirelessly explain for several minutes, before he goes ‘Oh, why didn’t you just say that? I know what that is.” It made you roll your eyes each and every time.

“You’re handsome, but you don’t listen.” You hummed out before cupping your hands at his shoulders and doing circles with good pressure, your upper body weight being put into his stern muscles.

“All I heard you say is that I’m handsome.” He moaned into the sheets, a blush creeping on your cheeks at his comment, but also his heavenly moan.

“It’s.. where you apply skincare to your face. You know, using a cleanser, applying an exfoliator, moisturizer..”

This was when Joel started muffling random nonsense into the sheets and you playfully pushed into his crying shoulders harder until he let out another long groan of discomfort.

“Okay, okay, I know what you’re talkin’ about. Skincare. I don’t need it.”

You tutted, shaking your head as you held in a laugh.

“Everyone needs it. Every. One.” You said as you leaned down and kissed the back of his head where his curls were starting to form.

“Especially you, Joel! Your pores are so big, you’ve got dust and dirt getting all in there. And it’s been so hot outside, your skin’s drying up. Gotta take care of your skin baby.”

“Why? So I’ll look young agian?” He teased as he reached a hand back and squeezed your hip as well as he could from his position.

“Because it’s good for you. Makes me feel good after a really long day.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a throat hum leaving his lips. “Thought I made you feel good after a really long day.”

A huff left your lips as you were back to doing circles into his shoulder with your thumbs. “Shut up.”

The last of the lotion had sunk into his skin, the massage hopefully healing more than just his dry skin.

Night’s like this with Joel were rare, but exceptionally special. He had energy to talk to you about everything under the sun, something you didn’t expect to transpire with your age difference at first. You discussed your mutual plans for the weekend, a barbeque at Tommy’s house. Joel was insisting on you wearing your new bikini, green to match his beautiful eyes. He could be such a horn dog.

He wanted to stay up as long as he could, but the long day he endured couldn’t help but put weight on his eyelids. His words turned to mumbles, his arms snaking around your waist in his silent gesture to fall asleep with you.

You shook your head with a small, tired smile, your hands planting themselves on his forearms to put a stop to his motions.

“Turn around.” You whispered, the notion making his tired eyes pop open with a “huh?” leaving his parted lips.

“You heard me, old man. Turn around.” You said as your hand roamed over his warm hip.

Joel assumed you didn’t want to cuddle tonight, maybe he was too warm for your taste despite the fan running above the both of you.

Joel’s chest tightened as he felt your warm body return right behind him, a bashful grin on his face.

“Are you tryna big spoon me?” His southern accent was dripping heavier than usual with the tiredness stringed in it.

The question erupted a giggle from you, Joel feeling you kiss over his taut shoulder blade.

“I don’t know how well I can big spoon you.. You’re so long.” Your arm tightened around Joel’s waist anway, his big hand finding yours as your fingers interlocked. He felt grateful in this moment, albeit a bit shy about the position. He was used to being the big spoon, it was different for him to be on the receiving end. But it was warm and settling, he couldn’t deny that.

“So I’m uh.. I’m like the ladle to your big spoon?” Joel asked. He could feel your grin on his back, your legs tangling with his own.

“Yes… you’re the ladle, but even the ladle needs a big spoon.” Joel’s blinks slowed until his eyes were closed, heavy with sleep.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.

“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #fluff fic #joel miller one shot fluff

548 notes · View notes

coffee-seedy · 4 months ago

Note

Hi uh can you do x reader(romantic) headcanons/scenarios? If you don't then you can ignore everything else in this ask

Zip x gender neut/fem, introverted, new student(like first or second week of being at paper school) reader, not dating just crushes. Specifically how she would react to you being made fun of/hurt by other students, or things she would potentially do after being mocked to cheer you up

Probably OOC ask but I don't care comfort characters are comfort characters

Zip x GN! Reader

a/n: I see romantic Zip… dw anon even though in rules zip is platonic only, but this one exception because I have idea for my daughter ofc (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠). And I agree about comfort character are comfort character

Request? : Yes

warning: mentioning about bullying

Proofread? : No

Scenario

The first week you moved to this paper school, you found a small child wearing a fairly large fish hat running alone in the school hallway. for the first time, it was the most weird thing to happen to you.

You slowly approached the child so as not to startle him. whether it's a reflex or something, the little boy immediately hugged your leg and kept muttering "Zip” while snuggling against your legs.

You wanted to let him go, but seeing him like that made your heart break… because there was no other choice, you finally let him go while waiting for someone named Zip.

It wasn't long enough before you saw a girl with the dinosaur tail approaching the two of you, and that's how you started to get close to her...

Head Canon!

both you and zip weren't originally that close before Chip's incident yesterday.

she's starting to show up wherever you go.. with Chip following her from behind of course.

you still don't know about her being part of bully. when you found out about it, the relationship between the two of you started to break down and you started avoiding her… except for Chip, you don't dare to ignore that boy.

when you start avoiding her, that's where Zip starts to get frustrated and asks Oliver for advice because he is the wisest in the group (in her eyes).

He did all the advice oliver gave her! buy flowers for you? you don't like flowers… how about chocolate!? you give it to her brother.

When zip started to get frustrated and ran out of advice, chip instead sitting beside her while nomming the chocolate that was initially given to you but instead Chip got it.

but one day you started approaching her again and that made her happy!

just a happy dino girl with her pretty/handsome partner…

I'm still confused, because someone said she's a devil while others say she's a dino… WHICH ONE IS THE REAL ONE?! — Crysalsx 💎

#—coffee work~#zip fpe #fpe x reader #fundamental paper education x reader #zip x reader #fpe #fundemental paper education #x reader #gn! reader #f!reader

62 notes · View notes

mrsjellymunson · 4 months ago

Note

Hi kittie Hope you're well

Imagine going on a picnic date with eddie after the food he lays his head back on your thighs you softy begin to place flowers in his hair

A Crown For Your King

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

WC: ~950 || CW: None, other than mentions of food (no descriptions of eating), although this is extraordinarily fluffy so if you’re worried about dental caries perhaps take heed 😉 || A/N: Oh, this is such a lovely idea @celestialbat! I hope you like it 💗 Also, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to reshare this insanely beautiful and rather gloriously appropriate piece of art by @themultiverseofmars 😉😘

😘☀️🌸🌼🌺🌾🧺🍽🥪🍓🍰🫐🥨🍖🧀🥕🍅🥜🍏🍎🍇📸🐛

Eddie’s not usually one for cuteness and fluff - he’d normally take someone to The Hideout, or spend time in his van out by Lover’s Lake. Not because he doesn’t want to, more because he doesn’t know how, and can’t take the risk of embarrassing himself.

But with you, it’s different.

Before you, he reckons he wouldn’t’ve known how to be romantic if his life depended on it. But now, he’s finding he loves to do things to make you laugh, to make you blush, even just to make you smile, and he doesn’t even care if he makes himself look like an idiot.

So today, he’s packed up as much of a romantic picnic as he can manage. He’s borrowed a basket and cooler from Steve, along with some tips on what to pack, after he admitted he was just going to get Twinkies and chips from Melvald’s. Steve’s even let him raid his fridge for a few things.

He’s shaken out the blankets from the back of his van, and has brought a few throw pillows from the trailer, so you’ll have something comfortable to sit on. There’s camping plates and cutlery, usually reserved for Wayne’s fishing trips, so you don’t have to pick things out of packets, and he’s bought your favourite soda. He’s even folded kitchen paper into bird-like shapes, so they stand up on their own - fancy.

You think he’s just taking you to the local park, maybe collecting something from Benny’s on the way, but he surprises you, swinging the van along one of the exit roads to a ‘secret spot’ outside of town.

It’s a pretty meadow, down a quiet lane, filled with tall grass and wildflowers.

He takes your hand and helps you down from the cab with a polite ‘my dear’, and insists on carrying everything himself, even though you offer to help (and, as you suspected he might, he almost trips twice).

He chooses a patch of meadow that’s more grass than flowers, explaining he ‘doesn’t want to hurt them’, and lays a blanket out for you both before opening up the cooler.

You can’t believe he’s gone to all this effort. There’s cold meats and cheeses, small tomatoes, carrot batons, berries, nuts, apple slices and a few grapes. And because he can’t forego the snack food, there’s also pretzels, breadsticks and, yes, chips.

You think it’s wonderful. You think he’s wonderful. And the two of you spend an idyllic afternoon snacking and chatting and laughing and holding each other’s hands.

Once most of the food is gone, you help him to pack away the leftovers and encourage him to lie down, insisting he deserves a rest after all he’s done today.

He smiles softly at you, and says he will, but,

“Only if I can choose the best pillow in the state.”

Confused, you look around at the worn cushions he’s brought from the trailer, and he smirks as he drops down onto his elbows and wriggles himself backwards to place his messy mop into your lap. He twists his head back and forth a couple of times, settling, humming to himself, mumbling,

“Mmmm, definitely the best pillow in the state. No wait, the country!”

You chuckle down at him as he peeps up at you with those coffee brown eyes you love so much, and run your fingers through his bangs.

You enjoy the weight and warmth of him resting against you as you talk about everything and nothing, and Eddie begins to doze in the afternoon sun. He stirs a little as he feels you periodically lean to one side, but thinks nothing of it.

He feels you playing with his hair again, and thinks he might just be in paradise. Surely, there’s no reason why the two of you couldn’t stay like this forever?

But then something unfamiliar tickles his cheek, and he opens one eye to see you leaning over him, examining a bright yellow buttercup before you cock your head sideways and appraise him, squinting a little.

Placing it into his hair between a poppy and a daisy, he sees the tip of your tongue poke out as you adjust it before leaning back and admiring your handiwork.

He brings a hand up to his hairline, gently and carefully so as not to dislodge anything, and discovers he has quite an array of blooms adorning his waves.

You reach into your bag and pull out your Polaroid camera, wanting to capture his beautiful visage. Taking a couple of snaps, you place them face down on the blanket to develop as Eddie gleefully makes grabby hands, wanting to take a picture of his own. He hadn’t even realised you’d brought it, and he’s not missing this opportunity.

You won’t know until the picture develops, but the sun that’s now setting behind you is giving you a glorious halo that Eddie thinks makes you look like a heavenly being. He decides that if he can capture even a tenth of your ethereal beauty in a photo, he’ll keep it close to his heart forever.

❤️

Optional ending:

Just as you’re thinking this is definitely the best picnic, and possibly the best afternoon, of your life, one of the daisies bends a little, and something small drops from one of the petals.

It’s a tiny green caterpillar, and it tickles him as it squirms against Eddie’s temple.

Bats, rats, skulls and devils don’t bother this metal-loving freak, but real-life creepy crawlies? That’s a whole different story, and a massive nope.

He leaps up, thrashing wildly at the beautiful display you’d made, the colourful petals and bright green stalks flying everywhere and showering you both like confetti as his feet get tangled up in the blanket and he squeals,

“AAAAAHH!! Bug!! BUG!!”

😘☀️🌸🌼🌺🌾🧺🍽🥪🍓🍰🫐🥨🍖🧀🥕🍅🥜🍏🍎🍇📸🐛

Disclaimer: IDK what wildflowers grow in Indiana so I’ve gone with ones I do know 😜 Also, a couple of these things are based on my own experiences, but I will only divulge which if you ask very, very nicely… 😉

And, if you’d like to see a Steddie-fied version of this, because I just couldn’t help myself, stay tuned….

Tagging my general list, which is very much open: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean

#TYSM #nice asks #kittie’s asks #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #picnic fic #eddie munson ficlet

54 notes · View notes

saltsicklover · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 1 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 2 HERE and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 6k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Six years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The Officers Club, better known as The Flight Line Bar sits on post in Miramar, frequented by the big brass and educators at Top Gun. The whole place glows with amber light from the buzzing light fixtures that hang from the rafters, dusty and hot to the touch. This half of base, on the far side of the air field has yet to be updated, evident by the chips in the glasses and the inconsistent flickering of the halogen bulbs. The wallpaper is peeling; discolored around the old neon signs that have slowly begun to fizzle out. If it were any brighter inside those four walls, one might be able to see the discoloration of well walked floors and one too many spilt beers.

Two loan pool tables sit in the center of the bar, their felt faded from use and tearing, flanked by a couple of dart boards, their cork crumbling from age. The patrons look about the same, old and wrinkled with age, lines worn into their faces that read closer to distinguished than wary. That's what the military does to a person, wears itself straight into the skin and makes a home there, the ghosts of lost wingman and battle buddies still looming in the whites of their eyes. Too many memories are stuck in the deep folds of their uniforms, worn in around the elbows and shoulders, the creases worn from friction- salute after salute.

It's really a hard to believe that people still frequent The Flight Line Bar. After all, there are so many better places for the students of Top Gun to meander into, just off post where they don't have to risk rubbing shoulders with their instructors- or heaven forbid, hit on their guest lecturers.

After all, It's all fun and games, flirty touches and smooth words until you're slapped with a SHARP report.

The students always figure out the good places to drink after class, shortly after their arrival after one too many moments spent inside the crumbling bar. The drinks are good in taste, better in price, but not worth it at the risk of saying just the wrong thing to just the wrong person.

The new recruits arrival happens like clockwork, and it's a ritual the newly minted Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson loves to witness. He has been watching the little ordeal for the last four years, with each new Top Gun class, even choosing to mark the date on his calendar after having almost missed an incoming class last year.

The new Top Gun recruits wander into The Flight Line Bar in gaggles. Most still clad in their uniforms if they had been lucky enough to get issued a drinking order. The wide eyed aviators would file up to the bar, uneasy looks on their faces as they took in the ranks drinking around them. If the Flight Line Bar was a small pond, the Top Gun inductees are guppies surrounded by some very big fish. One year, a young aviator even tripped over the base commander's seat and was met with a glare that even Cyclone would have been nervous to stand on the receiving end of.

The recruits each drink a beer, the brave ones chancing a second, before they're heading for the door. Cyclone loves to see the discomfort that would roll off of them the moment they crossed the threshold back into the parking lot. Some would even shiver, which always seems to pull a hearty laugh out of the Admiral.

This year, however, Cyclone is met with a very different scene before him when he himself broke the threshold of the Flight Line Bar. Having been stuck in a meeting with Admiral Kazansky, Cyclone ends up arriving later than the usual crowd of recruits. So, when he finally wanders in, he is met with the fleeting glances of some top brass, but no new eyes. He can't fight the way he almost deflates; after the shit day he managed to barely claw his way through, the one thing he was looking forward to were the wide eyes of the newest, freshest meat that Top Gun managed to recruit.

As if today of all days wasn't hard enough to begin with.

Instead, it looks like a regular Friday night, which wouldn't do the leg work needed to actually flip his day around for the better. But he's already there, the drinks are cheap, and he really, really needs a drink. So, he orders with a silent wave of his hand, the borderline elderly man behind the bar meeting the wave with a nod of his head. Cyclone plops down unceremoniously onto one of the rickety barstools. It almost sways under his weight, however it does creak weakly as he settles. His temple meets his knuckles as he lets out a deep sigh as the beer being set down in front of him. Cyclone can only manage a nod to the bartender before lifting the glass to his lips.

The question of why he still drinks here, in this lousy bar, floats through his head for a moment, but he doesn't put fourth the energy to grant himself with an answer. Maybe it's the cheap beer and half price shots. Or, maybe the fact that he doesn't have to fight off the happy hour drinkers or the five o'clock somewhere partiers that seem to be carried in with the wind. Again, he doesn't entertain the question long enough to form an answer.

Cyclone doesn't even have to glance around the bar to know the crowd this Friday night hosts. Top brass, tired officers, and disgruntled wives, each drinking their own bad days away.

The glass feels about a hundred pounds and it meets the bar top with a loud thunk, the amber liquid sloshing around inside. A bit of foam sneaks over the rim, running down the crack in the glass. Cyclone scratches at it with this thumbnail, wondering how the hell the bar is still getting away with using nearly broken glassware. The thought doesn't last long, not many seem to this evening, and he is bringing the impossibly heavy glass back to his mouth for another sip.

As he tips it back a little further this time, the sulking woman a few seats down catches his attention. If this were a normal Friday night, Cyclone might make bets with himself on just why a woman might be crying, in this bar, all alone. He might puzzle that she is a soon to be ex-wife, her spouse making the choice to cheat on deployment. Maybe she is a daughter, or a sister, or a cousin, her base escort hiding in some other corner of the bar, or of the base. But tonight is not a normal Friday night, regardless of the absence of the new incoming class or not.

The Admiral can't help but watch her lazily out of the corner of his eye. She brings a shitty bar serviette up to wipe at her cheeks, sniffling as the paper touches her skin. Cyclone should feel guilty about how much the sight comforts him. At least, he thinks, someone else seems to be having just as bad of a day as he is.

Then, she catches him staring, his beer lost in the space between his lips and the counter. His fingers are sticky against the chilled glass as he holds it there, still watching her. Cyclone doesn't look away, no point in it now. Then, she breaks the disillusioned bubble forming between them with a sniffle and a hiccup.

It's not a pretty sound, but then again, the sight of the woman in front of him isn't exactly pretty either. After all, it's hard to be pretty when snot is rubbed up over the tip of her nose, catching the light as she sniffles again. Her hair is akin to a nest, like her fingers have been making their way through it over and over again until it is more mess than style.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, Sir," Her voice is straining from holding back tears. There is snot dripping from her nose again, and she wipes it with another flimsy napkin. A half effort is made to sweep back the hair in her face, her well kept fingernails catching in newly formed knots as she pushes it back. The woman doesn't break eye contact with him, even as the sight of him begins to swim through her newly forming tears.

"Hey, kid, it's okay, don't worry about it," His eyes meet the fluttering neon sign behind her, not wanting to lock eyes with her again. It lights her in a halo of sickly blue and Cyclone can see the fizziness of her hair in it's light- it's a half distraction from the way she is still looking at him with those tears in her eyes. He can't stand it when women cry, not after watching his wife, June, sob through her entire pregnancy. It's really the way their eyes glaze over- that helpless look where he can just tell they are fighting with everything they are worth, deep down knowing that it might not be enough. Though, it warms his chest a bit to call her "kid", like he has always been meant to use the term.

The Admiral's brown eyes go misty, locking onto the chipped portion of his glass as the memory of his wife, six months pregnant, stuck in a hospital bed as hot tears carved their way down her face invades Cyclone's memory like a plague. He will never forget the crimson staining her cheeks from the exertion as she fought. And fought. And fought. The way her skin was more chapped than smooth from the constant flow of tears- the way the light would catch the shininess of her skin from the petroleum jelly that he lovingly spread over her weeping skin.

She didn't make it home.

Neither did their baby boy.

And now, as this woman sits a couple stools down, crying in a way that's anything other than gentle, corralling her sobs into the fence of her chest; her face that same color he used to be so used to seeing, that same damn sheen to her skin and Beau feels sick. His eyes snap down to her hands and he watches as her fingers push through the soggy material of the napkin, a sight that makes him grimace a bit. Gross is not the word to use to describe a crying woman, that is fact he has to remind himself of, but the way her fingertips slipped right through that soggy excuse of a napkin is damn close. Cyclone schools his mouth into a tight line, knowing that anything he might say could make both of their day's spiral downwards even faster.

"Admiral," Cyclone wills himself to look her in the face, but his pupils dance around, not locking in on one spot too long. The frizz of her hair, then over the puffy skin under her eyes, then back up to the buzzing neon just over the top of her head. Anything to keep from looking into the woman's eyes. He manages a nod in her direction, rewarded with a hiccup from behind her glass.

A couple more used napkins are tossed up onto the bar, adding them to her steadily growing pile. Her beer is cold, and she can feel it travel all the way down, chilling her burning insides with each swallow. Cyclone takes a drink of his too, waiting for her to continue her thought. He closes his eyes as he tips back the glass, the image of the crying woman in front of him replaced with one of June, and he's not really sure which is worse.

Thunk goes the glass again.

"Can I ask a favor?" Her tone is so sweet, yet so, so sad. He thinks of June, then he nods, his body doing the motion for the sake of his heart, even though his brain is screaming at him. He was taught a long time ago that there are people who don't just ask for favors, specifically strange women in bars, new recruits, and the big brass. But, the woman looks about the age his son should have been now and his chest constricts with the realization that he could have been sitting here drinking with him if things had turned out different.

"How can I help you, kid?" The glass is hitting the bar top just a little bit too hard again, the splinter in the glass growing a millimeter. It's quickly covered by the large pad of Cyclone's thumb.

"I- well, I'm supposed to be here celebrating my Mother's leg-legacy," Another sob-full hiccup breaks up her sentence. Cyclone waits patiently for her to finish. She wipes at the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

"And, she really liked to shoot whiskey," The explanation is coming out too wet and not at all concise, but Beau is nodding along anyway. The woman is rubbing at her eyes again, this time with her fingertips. She carefully runs her nail along the underside of her waterline, trying to catch the new tears before they streak down her cheeks with the rest of them. It doesn't really work, or even if it does, Cyclone can't tell. New tears fill up the spaces the freshly wiped away ones once occupied.

Despite the unclear delivery, Cyclone gets the message. Ordering two double shots of Tennessee whiskey, his wife's favorite, Cyclone offers his best sympathetic smile to his new drinking companion. Then, as the whiskey is being poured and he is shuffling over to the bar stool next to hers. That one creaks and sways too, but he tries not to pay it too much mind.

"What's your name, kid?" There's that warmth again, breaking through the tightening feeling in his chest.

"Lieutenant Y/N "Monsoon" Mitchell," Monsoon raises her shot glass to Cyclone, offering him a nod. It's such an informal introduction but both are thankful for the lack of salute, the lack of military theatrics, tradition, that they are usually stuck to upholding. After all, what is tradition except peer pressure ringing through from years past.

Cyclone knows her, well, her name, this recruit- on paper at least. Suddenly he feels a bit worse for feeling less alone when he spotted her crying.

"Beau "Cyclone" Simpson," He raises his own glass, moving to tap them together. It's a risky move with the state of the glasses, each sporting chips in their rims and hairline fractures down their side. They share sullen, makeshift smiles, neither putting any sort of heart behind the expression. It's a knowing sort of thing, the look they share, one that says I won't say anything if you won't.

"To my Mama, Lieutenant Maria Davis, the best damn medic the USS Vinson ever saw," Monsoon's toast is simple, but she means every single word. Beau's mouth turns up at the corners, nodding to her in acknowledgment of a good job.

"And too my wife, June, and our baby boy, god rest their souls."

The bottoms of the glasses hit the table before the rim makes contact with their lips. The alcohol goes down with a burn, but it's a welcomed sensation. Anything feels better than swallowing grief and there's too much in the air right now. Cyclone chases the shot with a gulp of his beer. Monsoon doesn't. She rests the cool glass against her warm cheek, squeezing her eyes shut. It's a refreshing feeling, almost like she is being rinsed from the inside out.

The alcohol settles deep within them. She is buzzing, he is a bit queasy. Neither need to say a thing about it. It kind of feels like church- like a well spoken sermon where one sits in the pew the furthest from the crowed, tucked away in the back, poking holes in each lesson the preacher delivers. After all, it's not really God's plan, is it? More dumb luck than divine circumstance. Yet, they are both still there, sitting on stool that could give out at any moment as the lights above them buzz and the world feels a little smaller.

"I was watching the class today. You're a damn good pilot, Monsoon," Beau speaks after a few beats of silence, not quite sure what to say. Go with the truth, right? It would be rude to move back to his original seat, especially after the woman next to him just got control of her tears, so small talk is the next best option. She cracks her eyes open, trying to read the expression that follows the compliment. It looks genuine, if not a little proud, so she nods.

And then the world is a bit smaller, still.

"Thank you, Admiral, sir," She sets the glass down, gentler than he has done the whole night, "That means a lot, coming from such a talented pilot as yourself, sir."

And then Cyclone is chuckling, his chest vibrating. That feeling being the closest thing to godly he has felt in a long time, but it's more Zeus, more Jupitar, than it could have ever been God. Monsoon's words are so genuine and it catches him off guard. Most people who say something like that are trying to kiss his ass so hard that there they all but wear marks on the backside of his trousers.

"Are you getting excited to graduate? The ceremony is next week, right?" He asks, bringing his eyes back to the neon behind her. The light above them flickers, neither one acknowledging it. There is a sort of kinship between the way their souls feel and the state of the bar, where living feels like the flickering of a light, tonight.

"Sir?" The question comes with a tilt of her head, her fingers wrapping loosely around her beer. He watches the condensation drip down the glass, the water disappearing behind her fingertips.

"To graduate," he explains like it's the clearest thing, "To finish Top Gun,"

"Oh!" Monsoon almost chuckles, but her soul is too heavy. She settles on a small smile, as kind as she can manage.

"I don't graduate for another six weeks. Today just wrapped my seventh week here, but halfway done does feel good," He can tell she is holding something back with the way her eyes are pinched at the corners, the smiles on her lips straining a bit under her words. Monsoon looks like she almost doesn't believe the words that are leaving her own mouth, but when Cyclone catches her eyes again he can see that look again, I won't say anything if you won't.

"Oh," Beau's hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, all of a sudden feeling like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "In that case, you are one of the best pilots I've ever seen,"

The words fall from his tongue like they are the simplest thing in the world. His eyebrows are still raised as he downs the rest of his beer. He contemplates Monsoon's career in his head, attempting to think back to files he knows are sitting on his desk, but the alcohol swirls the statistics together in his brain.

"Thank you, sir,"

"Is your father planning on coming to your graduation?" The question is so simple, the next plausible question after toasting to her Mother's life. Monsoon bristles at the question, her expression becoming impossibly more tight, pinched.

"He's uhm," The foam in the bottom of Monsoon's glass is the most interesting thing in the room. Tears are flooding her eyes again, and she's turning back to the shitty bar napkins in the even shittier dispenser. Cyclone knows his question hit a nerve based on how she is frantically pulling napkin after napkin out of the dispenser; and the Admiral's guilt swims to the surface. He is sure that the horizon of it can be seen in his iris's, if Monsoon were to look past the evident sadness that has made a home there. He's pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, blue in color and perfectly folded. He offers it to her and it's taken with a slightly shaky hand.

"M.I.A. or AWOL?" Cyclone asks. There's a bit of humor to his question that neither of them comment on.

"He went AWOL when I was seven," She doesn't take her eyes off the popping foam in the bottom of her glass, "Then I suppose he went M.I.A. three years later, when he stopped sending birthday cards,"

Cyclone hates the way her shrugs are all noncommittal and vaguely unbothered. He would have killed for a chance to raise his child, hell, he would move the Earth if that meant he even had a chance to do something. The fact that a man would walk out on his family, on his own child, it makes him sick. There is still something else Monsoon isn't saying; the way she chuckles is almost wax poetic with the way she rolls her eyes. Cyclone raises an eyebrow at her as he gestures to the bartended for two more on tap.

"I was in Admiral Kazansky's office today," She chuckles again, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cyclone slides the new beer over to her. He brings his up to his lips as she breathes deeply, trying to order the words together in her head, words she can't believe she is about to say out loud.

"There's a fucking picture of my father on his desk," Then she is downing the beer in quick, deep gulps. It's half gone before she sets it back down. Cyclone's brain is working on overdrive, swerving the hazy clouds of intoxication, searching for the mental picture of the Admiral's desk. Monsoon is chuckling in quiet disbelief, picturing the damn photo on his desk, her father and the Admiral shaking hands during their time at Top Gun. It makes her sick, really, but she doesn't need to say it based on the way her face feels, all contorted and ugly.

"I didn't even want to be a fucking pilot," Cyclone doesn't know if she is speaking to him anymore, or if the words are meant for her half empty glass. Hell, the way she speaks them they could be meant for the universe, for Khaos, for the air itself. There's a chip on that glass too, in the smooth side if of it, where it tapers down. He watches as Monsoon rubs her fingertip over it again and again and again.

"What did you want to do?" The question is leaving Cyclone's lips before he can stop it, common sense kicking in too slow. He is kicking himself.

Then, her thumb is stopping.

"I wanted to be a RIO," The glass is lifted to her lips again, her eyes rolling at the mere thought, "I wanted to fly with my Dad,"

The laughter that leave Monsoon's lips is dry as autumn air. Her lips crack too, under the stretch of her half hearted smile- one that holds no joy, it's all lukewarm and apathetic. He watches the skin of her lips crack and separate- it looks painful, and Cyclone has to fight not to grimace at the sight. Blood slowly begins to leak through the new flesh wound, bright red as it crests over the fullness of her bottom lip. He remembers watching the same thing happen to Maverick in the back of a helicopter as the wind whipped around them. But then, Maverick wore a truly joyous smile, one that rounded out his cheeks with a rosy hue that went deeper than the wind burn.

Then it hits Cyclone like a ton of bricks- like pulling 6 G's in a fucking barrel roll. Mitchell. This girl in front of him, this broken, fatherless girl is Pete Michell's kid. As if Cyclone needed another reason to hate the reckless man.

Beau wants to punch Pete Michell so hard that the only thing the man can make out in his field of vision is stars. Either the ones in the sky as he is planted with his back in the dirt, or the ones that would no doubt sparkle behind his eyelids. He wants to watch as the other man bleeds from the nose, the lip, the inside of his mouth. Cyclone can almost see the way the blood would pool in the spaces between Maverick's too white teeth, turning them a sickly vermilion. He would take a little too much pride watching the blood drip out of the corner of Pete's mouth, or down the crest of his chin.

Hell, Pete Michell, bloody, is a justified sight in Cyclone's book.

But that wouldn't help her right now. So Cyclone takes a breath, calming the flames of anger, of Hades that often lick at his legs, at his hands, whenever he so much as thinks about Pete "Maverick" Mitchell.

He's a bastard, that much is for sure. And it doesn't seem that Monsoon needs reminding of that fact.

"Well, kid," Beau is hunting, hurting for the right words, "If it's not wrong of me to say- your talents would have been wasted as a fucking RIO, especially for that son of a bitch," That gets Monsoon chuckling. She wants to ask if her grandmother was really that bad, but she doesn't make the joke. Though the laugh sounds a bit strangled as it untangles from the dense pain in her chest, Cyclone is happy to hear it. Something small swells in his heart at the sound.

Somewhere, deep in the cavernous spaces of his soul, a broken part of him feels like a father for the first time in years, even if it isn't exactly proper and the woman in front of him isn't his kid. Cyclone feels like a father, not even in a pseudo sense of the word, but truly like a father, and the feeling warms him from the inside out. It overtakes his whole body, leaving him almost buzzing.

Now it's his turn to chuckle. It's sour with pain and longing, but it's still there. Like joy is trying to crawl it's way out, lukewarm and dripping wet.

"Well, Admiral, sir," Monsoon's voice is a little lighter now, sweeter maybe. Cyclone is watching as she's pulling her coat over her shoulders, "Thank you for the favor, and the drink,"

She's nodding her head in the direction of the half full glass still dripping with condensation.

"Thank you for remembering them with me, too," They share a knowing smile, it's a little broken but it is still warm. Again, it's one of those I won't say anything if you won't looks shared between the pair. They lock eyes one last time before Monsoon is turning on her heel, ready to head right out of the front door.

For just a second Cyclone wonders if Monsoon will shudder with relief in the same way the new Top Gun recruits usually do, or if something as simple as that will effect such a skilled pilot. He wonders if anyone will be there for her on graduation day, or if she will be stuck alone in the seas of families and friends- just like he was all those years ago.

I won't say anything if you won't. Yeah, that's not a chance he's willing to take.

"Wait," Cyclone calls after Monsoon, his voice a little too loud and not at all hesitant enough. Monsoon chances a look back, confusion written into the furrow of her brows. He becons he back with a wave of his hand. Cyclone pulls a business card from his front pocket. "I am going TDY, but I should be back for your graduation," The words don't make sense to Monsoon, and neither does the card that he's presenting her between his two fingers. She is cocking her head to the side again, eyebrows furrowed. Cyclone tries to not notice how much she looks like her father.

He notices anyway.

"Email me, remind me of the date, and I'll be there," He is presenting her the card again with a shake of his wrist. Then, she reaches out, grabbing it with nervous fingers.

"Oh, uh-" There are new tears forming in Monsoon's eyes at the words, the card now swimming in her vision. "Thank you, sir,"

"Oh, better yet," Cyclone plucks the card from her fingertips, a move that may have been considered crass but Monsoon can't help but find a little bit funny. Cyclone quickly scribbles down a phone number in messy loops of blue ink, the numbers taking up a little too much room on the back side of the card. Then, he blows on it carefully to make sure the ink won't smudge before handing the card back out to her in the same manner as before.

"Text me the reminder, so it doesn't get lost in my email," Cyclone's smile is so kind and there is a ribbon of hope, a glimmer, really, shinning through the lightest parts of his irises. Monsoon can barely hold back her tears at the sight, and so the card becomes the most interesting thing in the room, held between her shaking fingertips. "You deserve to have a parent there, kid,"

Those are the last words they share that night. They don't need to say anything else. After all, how do you explain the want to stand in as a lost family member? Beau would never admit just how much he's dying for a kid to support, to cheer on and celebrate. Monsoon knows the feeling too, the want to be a daughter who isn't seen as an inconvenience, a burden.

The next time they see each other, Cyclone is sitting in the front row at her Top Gun graduation, a small bouquet of calla lilies on his lap. There is a proud smile on his face and the moment Monsoon sees it there are tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is the feeling she had been missing out on, a father's pride, his love. She tries not to dwell on it, even as walks across that stage.

When the pair meet in the crowd, Cyclone doesn't hesitate to pull her into a hug, one that may not have been professional or regulated, but he feels a weight come off her shoulders the moment he pulls her in. He feels a little more whole too. The hug is short, quick, really, but there are tears in both of their eyes when they pull back.

Cyclone has so much pride for her, and God, Monsoon can feel it. From the way he beams at her to the way he shoves a camera into the hands of his battle buddy, tucking her under his arm. Both clad in dress uniform, posing for the camera as she holds the flowers against her chest to try and quell the beating of her heart. They both sport tears in their eyes, cheeks round and plump red as they smile too wide.

That photo makes onto his desk a week later, displayed in a beautiful mahogany frame.

USS Stennis. Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Four Years before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

The first time Monsoon calls him Pops, it's an accident. She got shipped out to an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. The tour is lonely. She doesn't know the team, the group who have been stationed there for the last six months, and they weren't overly keen on the 'new girl'. Monsoon made it through three months before she started to feel like a part of the team. It's a conscious choice, really, to keep working at fitting in. But in the end that team, those people, they aren't her family and they aren't going to remember her after she ships back stateside.

Emails to and from Cyclone kept her going, as he reassured her that life on the carrier isn't easy on anyone. He urges her to try and make better friends with those who hold a more permanent position on the vessel, so she does her best to take the newbies under her wing. If she wasn't welcomed, that was out of her control, but she can sure as hell make sure that the newbies are.

The plan starts off a little rough, the new sailors unsure of the overly friendly Lieutenant amongst the standoffish seasoned crew of the vessel. But days turn to weeks, trust is earned and the long days and nights onboard get easier to swallow.

Then, Cyclone gets shipped out to the carrier for a briefing. He can't help the rumble of excitement that tracks through him. He might get to see Monsoon, his kid, and he's going to do everything in his power to track her down on board.

There is too much joy on his features as he touches down on the carrier. Too much joy for the briefing he is getting ushered into. It drags on longer than necessary as they hash and rehash out plans for missions. He knows he should care, he really does, but it's not like people's lives are on the line this mission. It's all practice runs and jet maintenance, and how could anyone expect him to focus when his kid is on the same vessel and he is just fucking sitting there. Cyclone barely sits still, knowing the clock is ticking down on his time aboard and if this meeting goes on any longer than planned he is going to miss his chance to see Monsoon.

Around suppertime, Monsoon is heading to the canteen, desperate for some sort of nourishment. It has been a long day, trial after trial, and thankfully for her, she's fairing better than some of her other wingmen. At least she hasn't puked over the side of the carrier since her first week aboard.

She guides one of the newer pilots, Story, down the stairs from the flight deck, her stomach rumbling as they go. The new Lieutenant on board hot on her heels as they make their way down the stairs.

"I know, Story, but you're going to get through this," Monsoon's voice is low as they wind their way through the tight hallways of the lower decks. "You're a good pilot, there is nothing you can't do. So what if you need a little more practice. That's why we're out here, right?"

The younger man hums in agreement, disappointment scribbled all over his face. They are both coated in sweat, Monsoon's hair sticking to her sweat soaked skin. She craves a shower almost as much as she craves food. Her body is weighed down with flight fatigue as she drags her feet.

The halls of the ship begin to smell more and more like hot biscuits and butter the closer they get to the mess hall. Their stomach's rumble in unison at the smell wafting down the hallway. Monsoon is rounding the corner with her front turned towards Story, not bothering a glance in the direction her feet are heading. A second later, her back meets a hard body, a grunt coming out of her mouth at the impact.

Story goes white at the sight of his new friend running straight into an Admiral. Monsoon doesn't like the look on his face, he looks like he's just seen a ghost, or maybe prophesied a murder. So she turns around slowly, so, so slowly. Her eyes are scrunched as she turns. There is already an apology on her lips as Monsoon peeks to see just exactly who she just ran into.

Eyes go wide, and smiles break out over their faces.

The need for food, a hot shower, and sleep dissipate from her body as she looks up at the man in front of her, joy overtaking.

"Pops!" The name comes out a little too quick, catching them both of guard. Monsoon's cheeks flush dark with embarrassment, realizing what she just said and who she just said it to. Without warning, Cyclone is pulling Monsoon into his chest, wrapping her into a warm, tight hug, just the kind of hug a Dad would give.

"Hey Kiddo,"

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

@t4medicroe

@inkandarsenic

203 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

his eyes still glisten

A/N: so, this is based off a real life experience that I and others have probably been on both the receiving end, and the giving end whether it was intentional or not. Healthy communication in all types of relationships is important, as are boundaries. We all make mistakes and hurt people sometimes, but the important part to remember is that as human beings, we feel. We innately want to do good, and sometimes these hard conversations need to be had. Remember to also hold compassion for yourself during a painful/stressful time. We always can do better, and be better. 🤍

~word count: 2.9k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is feeling neglected in his current relationship with you. He breaks finally when you are no show to a planned dinner date. You and Joel talk through your feelings and set healthy boundaries in your relationship .

warnings: angst, hurt, some fluff, miss communication,minor whump, comfort, arguments, light mention of alcohol consumption, uncomfortable conversations, boundaries being set, vulnerability, just two people trying to navigate in a relationship, resolution, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

As human beings we often find ourselves being engrossed in our lives. It’s never often intentional, but it’s easy as sliced butter to inadvertently make everything about ourselves. Our jobs, our relationships, our opinions, our thoughts. When we find ourselves too focused on our own lives, we forget the important people. Our friends, our families, our partners. You’ve forgotten your Joel, and he’s not quite sure how much longer he can keep his voice silent.

It’s not that you’re a bad person, a bad partner, a bad listener, you’ve just fallen off the rails a bit. Joel knows that he too needs to work on communicating his feelings better. His problem is that he often finds himself bottling everything up for so long that it begins to chip away at his exterior, piece by piece. He’s hurting; but you don’t realize it. After being together for so long, the honeymoon stage eventually wears off. He’s always been there to listen, be the shoulder used to soak your tears in. You’ve been good to him, so good to him, but lately he’s been feeling neglected. He feels the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. The trepidation that maybe you just don’t love him anymore.

He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” The waitress at yours and Joel’s favorite restaurant asks with a gentle smile. She’s stopped by the table a few times now.

Joel checks his phone with a heavy sigh. You're running twenty-minutes late, but he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. He gives the waitress a small, polite smile as he shakes his head. “No, Just a few more minutes. My girlfriend is running late.”

“Of course sir, no problem. Would you like another beer while you wait?”

He nods tightly before she even has the chance to finish.

The minutes begin to tick by as he nurses his crisp bottle Miller Lite. He feels pathetic each time he glances at the entrance to the restaurant. His mind plays a cruel trick on him as he searches for your face in the other diners.

Where the fuck are you?

He scrolls through his messages between you and him. Searching for any context clues as to why you were late. He calls you once, twice, a third time. He can’t help the dread that begins to seep deep into his bones. His palms are clammy to the touch as he imagines the worst possible outcomes; you’re breaking up with him, you’re seeing someone else.

No. No. He chants silently to his callous thoughts.

You’re just running late.

He finishes off his second beer as he begins to feel the tears sting the corner of his eyes. He refuses to show his emotions in a public setting. He won’t break down here, like this. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket as he slaps down enough bills to cover both the two beers, and a hefty tip for his waitress.

Once he’s safely behind the wheel of his truck, he finally breaks.

You were in back to back meetings all day. You were exhausted, burnt out, frustrated to the max limit, and your dinner date with Joel was forced to the back of your mind. Subconsciously, work was beginning to become your top priority, while your relationship was pushed to the backburner. It was becoming hard to juggle it all. Your sense of work-life balance was depleting faster than you could keep up. At the end of an extinguished flame that was barely holding on by a thread, was your boyfriend. Your Joel.

It’s a moment too late when you’re smacked head on with the realization that you fucked up. Shit, what day is today? Thursday. Oh–fuck, Joel. Your own sense of dread forces its way into your system as you frantically dial his number. You barely hear your co-worker telling you to have a good evening as you rush out to your car.

He doesn’t pick up. You try again, and again, and again.

He’s purposely ignoring your calls and you can’t seem to grasp the reason as to why.

A sense of relief washes over you when you find his truck parked in the driveway of your shared home. The lights in every room are turned off. He usually keeps a few on when he knows you’re working late in the office.

He hears your keys jingle at the front door from where he’s sat at the kitchen table. He doesn’t budge. He sits there with a stoic look on his face, and his hands clasped in his lap. Remnants of his tears laid streaked across his cheekbones like two cavernous streams.

“Joel, baby? Hey, I’m so sorry about tonight. I was in back to back meetings all day, Eric was being a fucking cranky pants, again. I had to stay late to work on this project that is due at the end of day Friday.” It felt like you were talking strictly to yourself as you softly closed the front door behind you, and plopped your keys in the bowl on the hall table right next to his. “Joel?”

Your ears perked at the sound of the kitchen chair scraping across the tile as you rounded the corner. “There you are. I’m so sorry, baby. I–”

“Why couldn’t you jus’ call me, or send me a text message. I sat in the fucking restaurant waitin’ for you. I could have changed the time of the reservation had I known you would be workin’ late.” He answers flatly as his forefinger nervously begins to pick away at the skin along his cuticles. A nasty habit he can’t seem to break.

“Baby, I know. I didn’t have a ton of access to my phone, and I just got caught up in a lot of shit today. You know it wasn’t intentional, right?”

He swallows down the urge to scoff at your dismissive response as his eyes slowly focus on you. “Can you..not call me baby right now? I’m trying to have a fuckin’ conversation with you, and you’re completely dismissing what I just said.” He bites back out of pure frustration.

“Dismissing you? Joel, I just said I was fucking sorry. I told you that I was busy–”

“Yeah, I heard you. You think I'm not busy too? Yet, I still take the time out of my schedule to communicate with you, because it’s the considerate and bare minimum thing to do! You couldn’t just take five fuckin’ seconds to send me a text?!”

“Joel, I never said that you weren’t busy too? Can you please not put words in my mouth? I was in back-to-back meetings. I barely had any access to my phone! What are you insinuating here? That I'm just making up excuses?!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you had zero time to communicate to your boyfriend?! I’m not insinuating that you’re makin’ up excuses, because that’s exactly what you are doing right now. All I'm asking for is some communication. Do you know how fucking pathetic I felt waiting around for you? I just wanted to have a relaxing evening with my girlfriend. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, all week, and it’s like you don’t care.” His voice cracked at the end. He felt utterly defeated as he scrubbed a hand across his face with an exasperated sigh. He hated confrontation. He hated fighting with you. It ripped his heart to shreds to see the way your face immediately fell from his words.

When you couldn’t muster up a response, he took this as his opportunity to get everything off of his chest.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, darlin.’ That is quite literally the last thing I want to do, but i’m at my fuckin’ breakin’ point here. You’re the most important person in my life outside of my brother, and lately I've been feeling neglected in our relationship. I don’t think you mean it intentionally, but these past few weeks I have been hurting. I know I should have communicated this to you sooner, but lately it’s been all about you. I know you’re busy at work. I know you’re stressed and frustrated with some of your co-workers, but what about my day? What about the projects that I have been working on? What about my stress? What about..me?” His eyes glistened like two shiny marbles under the warm glow of the overhanging kitchen light.

You were taken aback. It felt as if a freight train had collided with you and smashed your body down into smithereens. You hesitantly pulled out the kitchen chair across from where he was sitting before you slowly sank down. “Joel, I had no idea that you had been feeling this way at all. I truly thought that things were okay between us. I’m sorry I didn’t read between the lines and picked up on your change of mood. I’ve just been so caught up in myself lately, that I haven’t created the time for us to just sit down and communicate like this.” You softly spoke as you clasped your hands along the smooth finish of the wooden table.

“It’s not just about reading between the lines, I have some responsibility in this as well because I can’t just expect you to know exactly how i’m feeling if i’m not taking the time to communicate it to you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to internalize everything I'm sayin’, okay? I jus’ have done a disservice to us both for keeping this shit bottled up for as long as I have.” He murmured as he moved his hands from his lap and rested them along the table.

“How..else have I been making you feel lately, Joel?”

You watched as he took a deep inhale through his nose, before exhaling shakily through his mouth. You saw his lower lip wobble with uncertainty as his still glistening eyes met yours.

“Truthfully? I jus’ feel like I ain’t as important to you anymore. Like I could just get up and leave one day and you wouldn’t even notice that I wasn’t there. I feel like I'm always there to listen, and comfort you, but you don’t do the same for me. I feel like I constantly am seeking reassurance that you actually still want to be in a relationship with me. I feel like it’s a one way street, and my car is about to spin out because i’ve lost all capability of steering. I feel obligated to tell you the things that you want to hear, in fear of hurting your feelings unintentionally. I feel like i’m constantly putting my best foot forward in the relationship, and in the same breath, I’m trying to hold it together with some expired fuckin’ glue. I feel like I've been putting my everything into us, and I'm just becoming an afterthought to you.” Admittedly, it felt good to get everything he was keeping pent up off his chest finally.

“Joel, you are so important to me. I absolutely would notice if you just weren’t here one day. I’m sorry that I have been making everything about myself lately. I promise you it’s not in an intentional, or malicious way, I've just been getting sidetracked, and I haven’t been taking the time to focus on us and our relationship. I completely understand why you are feeling this way lately, and your present feelings towards me are completely valid. I haven’t been the best partner to you, and you shouldn’t feel like our relationship is a one way street. It should be a two way street, and I regrettably have lost sight of that.”

He had half expected you to blow up in his face over his vulnerable admittance. He had his own baggage from past failed relationships, so that unhealed side of him wanted to believe that you were just complying out of spite. The healed side of him was a gentle reminder that you were human too, and that mistakes are made, and people are hurt, but the most important fact was that you were listening to him. You were validating his feelings and holding yourself accountable.

“Darlin’ it’s okay. We’ve both been shit communicators lately. I think it's something that we both need to work on, don’t you think? Earlier this evening when I saw that you called, I was purposely ignoring you because I was feeling angry, hurt, and I was feeling bitter. I know I should have just taken the call, but I also didn’t want to explode on you either. I was at that point, and before anything could be said, I needed to calm down and collect my thoughts. I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes, and that’s also somethin’ i’d like to personally work on within myself.”

“Yeah, we can definitely use some touching up in that department. I need to start taking your feelings into consideration more. I’m glad that you didn’t pick up your phone, because honestly? It probably would have gotten ugly. I also think that lately I have turned you into my personal punching bag, because I'm constantly throwing my work drama onto your shoulders without even thinking about asking if you’re in the headspace to take on my emotions. I just open my mouth and spew, and I need to be more considerate on how you're feeling at that moment. I know we can always vent to each other about our frustrations, but maybe a boundary should be set?”

He slowly reached for your hands across the middle of the table as his fingers slotted through yours. He gave your hands a reassuring squeeze, followed by a soft smile.

“Yeah.” He rasped warmly, “I think it would be good for us to set some healthy boundaries. Sometimes I just don’t have the emotional capacity to take on your frustrations, especially if I am feeling particularly down on myself, or just in a general mood. With that, I really think it would be good for us to think about the positives as well y’know? Maybe we should try to not let our frustrations completely take over the vibe all the time? Cause honestly, I do find myself seeking your comfort and support when I find myself needing it most, but with that, I also need to remember that you might not have the emotional capacity to drop everything for me, and that is okay. We both have lives existing outside of the relationship, I jus’ think we gotta find that balance that works for both of us.”

You gently squeezed his hands back as you attentively listened to everything he was saying. “Yes, I agree that sometimes we both don’t have that emotional capacity for one another. Perhaps a level of consent can be established? Just a simple, ‘hey, i’m really frustrated right now, can I please tell you how i’m feeling?’ That way, it doesn’t just feel like we’re venting without checking in with one another first?”

“I think that is a great idea, darlin,’ why should consent and boundaries only be applied in the bedroom? I think it’s beneficial to have it present in all aspects of our relationship. I also would appreciate it if maybe we start having these conversations more? Maybe they can be like weekly check in’s to see how we're feeling? This might be considered to be a little lame, but it’s almost like we’re scrapbookin’ our feelings? Maybe that ain’t the right word for it, but I jus’ want our line of communication to be open, y’know?” He could feel his once tensed up nerves begin to gradually settle. His heart no longer felt like a twisted coil now that you both were communicating.

“Yes, we should make a point to sit down and make the time to have these conversations. It might be a bit tough at first, but I think we can manage it. I get what you mean with the scrapbooking comment. It almost brings a lighter element to it? Plus, we don’t have to just talk about the frustrating stuff. We can talk about all the fun and exciting aspects as well. Joel, I just want you to know that you don’t have to bottle everything up before it becomes too much for you to handle. You can always talk to me, and I can’t promise that I will always be readily available, but I will actively put in the effort to be there for you, just like you have been for me. You and I aren’t perfect. No one is. No relationship is flawless, but I think with a bit of nurturing, we’ll be alright.”

Your own eyes began to glisten as you listened to the familiar scrape of the kitchen chair along the tile as he padded over to you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, as his own looped tenderly around your waist. He nearly crushed you to his chest from how tightly he was hugging you. He really loved you that much. You were his girl after all.

“I love you, honey. Thank you for taking the time to listen and acknowledge my feelings. I appreciate it so much, and we’re gonna be alright. We’re jus’ hittin’ a little speed bump right now, but we haven’t lost control of steering entirely.” He nuzzled his face into your cheek. You could feel the bristles in his beard gently scratch your skin as he squeezed you tightly.

“I love you so much, Joel. Thank you for being honest with me, and I promise I'll do better.”

“I know you will, baby. S’okay. We’re all just human at the end of the day.”

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🩵

Please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

208 notes · View notes