#GATE Admit Card

[naukrinetwork1]

Check GATE 2025 exam schedule, application dates, fees, eligibility, and download admit card. Apply by 26th September 2024 for the IIT-organized exam.

[newsepick]

GATE 2025: Registration ends today

The application process for GATE 2025 closes tomorrow, October 7, at 11:59 PM. Candidates can apply with a late fee of ₹1,400 for SC, ST, PwD, and female candidates, and ₹2,300 for others. The regular fee was lower and closed on October 3. The exam is scheduled for February 1, 2, 15, and 16, with two shifts each day. Eligible candidates include those with degrees in various fields and third-year students. Required documents include photographs, signatures, and relevant certificates in specified formats. Details on the paper schedule and admit cards will be provided later. https://app.newsepick.com/details/gate-2025-registration-ends-today-apply-with-late-fee-at

[endawn]

there’s a very heavy amount of scarring on pax’s abdomen caused by stab wounds. they were inflicted by audens avidius, the imperial watch caption who hounded pax from his teens into adulthood while pax survived in the imperial city via thievery. the very same man responsible for putting pax in prison that set in motion his path to becoming the hero of kvatch and, later, champion of cyrodiil. audens was corrupt and arrogant, using his near untouchable position to extort business owners and citizens by collecting taxes. when pax was able to uncover his crimes and put audens behind bars as payback, he cracked under the weight of his own narcissism and hubris. he escaped from the same cell pax did and hunted him across cyrodiil; eventually finding pax in a tavern. come nightfall, he broke into the hero’s room where he proceeded to stab him in his sleep. in the ensuing struggle, pax was able to use his magic to shock and stun audens long enough to actually get up. their fight spilled out into the hall of the tavern where pax proceeded to use his fists to cave the man’s skull in. pax was no longer the same street rat audens was used to; too weak to fight back. or, in the letter audens left behind, a mere flea-bitten hero.

[teliphone]

Corrupt Desire

Summary: You’re an FBI agent who successfully captured the deadliest hitman, Rio Vidal. You hate to admit you have fallen in love with the criminal. Rio's psychotic games rope you back into her life. Just as she calculated, you can’t help but fall to your knees for her. Her beauty and sinister mind make her too irresistible. 

Warning(s): Smut, Oral, Fingering, Manipulation. 

Word Count: 5.9k 

-

“Put your bag in the bin please,” The security guard orders from the side. You take your large bag off your shoulders and place it into the bin. The guard slides it past the metal scanner and gestures to you to step forward. Before you can grab your bag, a female guard stops you. She snaps on light-blue latex gloves as she looks at your figure up and down with a stern face. 

“I have to search your body for any weapons or illegal substances,” She explains. You shyly smile and nod your head. A body search is a requirement when entering through this specific prison. She walks over til she is face to face with you. Her blue eyes stare briefly into yours, causing you to glance at the ceiling. She starts to run her fingers along your arms. Then you feel her slide down your hips to your thighs. Her fingers tug around the inside of your waistband. Lastly, she quickly slides along your core area. You feel a small blush appear out of embarrassment.

“You’re clear,” She reports. You quietly thank her and straighten yourself to grab your bag. She nods her head and tosses the gloves into the trash. She disappears behind the security door. You reach into the bag and shuffle around to find your ID card. You press the card against the glass and the front desk security writes your information down. The gates buzz and unlock. You tighten your grip on your bag and hesitate to step ahead. Before you can proceed, gates swing open and a man with a gray beard walks out. Judging by his badge you could tell he is the head warden of the prison. His button-up shirt is wrinkled with an obvious coffee stain around the stomach area. You avert your eyes up to his face to avoid staring. 

“You must be the FBI agent coming to interview Rio Vidal,” He assumes while rubbing his belly. You feel your stomach turn at the mention of her. 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you,” You greet with a smile. You bring out a hand to shake, but he looks away too soon. You stare at your awkward hand with an embarrassing blush before placing it back on your side. He starts walking down the halls while explaining to you about the interview you were about to conduct. You quicken your steps to catch up with him. You glance around the hall, examining how everything is locked up and secured. It is also eerie quiet. 

“-Rio refuses to speak with anyone but you,” He informs, bringing your attention back to him. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why?” You question. He lets out a dry chuckle as if you just asked a silly obvious question. He doesn’t respond which makes you want the world to swallow you full. He leads you to another gate, a step closer to where the prisoners are stationed. He stops walking and presses his key card on a scanner. The gate buzzes and clicks open again. He opens the gate for you and gestures to you through. As you walk in, you take a peek through a random room and accidentally make eye contact with an inmate. Tattoos coated his whole skin and his dark eyes are calculated. He is getting checked up by a police officer. The inmate tilts his head slowly and smirks. He looks at you hungrily and jerks his hand up and down in a provocative gesture. The officer snaps his finger in front of the inmate and yells at him to focus. You quickly look away and grimace in disgust. 

“Sorry about that. Most inmates here have been locked up for ages… they tend to get hot pants,’ He laughs, ‘We get the most dangerous criminals in our facility. Our security is more uptight. It’s hard to do anything around here… if you know what I mean.” 

He lets out another chuckle, proud of his humor. You give him a nervous forced laugh. Thankfully he buys it and continues showing you the way. 

“About Rio… you mentioned she refuses to talk to anyone?” You bring her back into the topic. The reason why you’re here in the first place. 

“Correct. Many officers and detectives have been trying to get her to speak. All she says is to bring you,” He answers. You nibble your bottom lip and feel anxiety creeping up. It was one simple reason: you were the one who got her caught and arrested. 

“How… has she been?” You ask. 

“She’s quiet and lonely. No one dares to talk to ‘lady of death’.” He chuckles at the nickname that has spread throughout the prison. You look down at the floor. You clench your hands around the strap of your bag and shake your head. No, you shouldn’t feel bad. She’s a criminal. 

Before you know it, you have finally reached a room with a gate. It’s guarded by two guards with a rifle attached to their bodies. They stand with their heads lifted high. Their faces lack emotion. You have never seen someone guarding a door with guns that big. You wonder if that was necessary. The Warden notices your staring. 

“We need to take great precautions with Rio,” He explains. He unlocks the gate and you peek inside. There is a simple table with two chairs placed on opposite sides. There is nothing much else in the room, to limit any harm that could be done. You tug your bag closer to your body. 

“You don’t need to worry. There will be a guard inside the room with you. We will be watching in a room next door with the cameras we placed,” He assures. You weren’t necessarily nervous about getting harmed. You were anxious about seeing her. Nevertheless, you squeeze a smile at him and start walking into the room. You notice the installed camera in the top left corner. A camera that doesn’t voice record and only visually records. You take a seat furthest from the door. You place your bag down and pull out a file, notepad, and a pen. You place your hands on top of the notepad and start playing with your fingers. The waiting game is eating you up, making you more nervous than ever. You self-cautiously brush your hair to make yourself look decent and press your lips together to try and get some color in it. It has been a long time since you have last seen her. You stop your movement and drop your shoulders. You feel guilty thinking about the past. Guilty about the things you did to her. 

-

You were placed on a top-secret case by your FBI team. Rio Vidal is the deadliest hitman. The mission was simple: Get close to Rio and get her to let her guard down so she can be captured. The only reason why you were chosen is because Rio has a history of being with younger women. You didn’t realize how much she trusted you until the doors of her apartment were getting kicked down. She quickly rushed to shield you. You feel your heart crack in guilt. Officers full of gear rushed in and pulled you away from her while the other half grabbed her. She thrashed against their hold. You yell at the officers to be more gentle on her as she is being shoved onto the ground to be handcuffed. Your FBI partner walked over and gave you a pat on the back. Usually, you would be happy, but in this case, you couldn’t. When Rio looked at you, you could see the realization sink in. It was a slight movement, but you saw it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes expressed hurt. Just as quickly as you saw it, as fast it disappeared. She replaced it with a cold-hearted smile. You tense up and freeze. That’s the last sight you saw of her. 

-

You see a body appear behind the gate. The bright color orange catches your eyes first. You feel your heart stop pounding. There is Rio Vidal in the orange prison uniform. She stares at you with an unexplainable expression. You nervously gulp. The gate swings open and the guards push her to take a step. She stumbles a little. Her hands are cuffed with loose chains around her ankle. The metal chain sounds loud in the quiet room. The guards shove her into the seat and she lets out a soft grunt. You flinch at their actions. You believe they didn’t have to be that aggressive with her. They turn around and start to leave.

“Excuse me,” Rio speaks up. Her voice sounds deeper and raspier than you remembered. The guards stop in their tracks and look over. She brings her handcuffed hands up and waves them. 

“How can I have a pleasant time with my date if I’m cuffed?” She smiles. You feel your cheeks warm up. They look at you for permission in which you nod your head. You trust she won’t do anything. Rio smirks and brings her hand to the guards. She watches closely as they take out a key and start unlocking her handcuffs and chains. She slowly rolls her free wrists and hums in delight. The deep sound from her throat makes you gulp. Finally, one guard leaves while one remains in the room near the door. Rio turns her body fully to face you. You take note of her features. Prison hasn’t been gentle to her. Her eyes look tired and wrinkles are starting to form. But even with that, you couldn’t deny the attractiveness that she holds. She tilts her head up as she examines you as well. She bites her lower lip to try and conceal her excitement. 

“I missed you,” She confesses. You avert your eyes to the guard and back to her. You feel embarrassed to have someone else hear a criminal flirting with you. She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. 

“If you can’t keep your attention on me. I want him out of the room,” She demands. You widen your eyes. 

“That is unnecessary,” You explain. 

“If you don’t get him out of the room. I refuse to talk,” She says. You furrow your eyebrows at her. She shrugs her shoulders and leans back onto the chair. She playfully looks around the room to keep herself entertained. 

“Rio…” You try getting her attention. She ignores you. You let out a sigh. This is no good. You need to get the job done. You look at the guard and gesture at him to leave. He hesitates at first but decides to listen. Rio’s lips curl into a smile when she hears the gate behind her close. She places her hands on the table and leans forward. An attempt to close the distance. You lean back, but the chair limits you. 

“Finally. Just you and me,” She grins. You let out a shaky breath. Your eyes flicker down to her lips in a second, but she catches it. Your hand slides to grab a pen. You click it and place it against the notepad. 

“I am here to talk to you about the victims you killed-“

“Did you miss me?” She cuts. She smiles innocently. Her eyes are wide like a doe, except you know she is far from innocent. The woman in front of you is sinister and well-calculated. 

“Rio, that is inappropriate to ask,” You warn, fidgeting with the pen. She ignores you and continues talking while playfully tapping her fingertips against the table surface. 

“You came sooner than I expected. Couldn’t resist seeing me?” She teases. You accidentally grip the pen harder til your knuckles turn white. 

“I am here for my job. Not for you,” You snap. She widens her eyes as she smiles, trying to act offended. 

“Will you look at that? You seem to have grown into your big boy pants,” She snickers. You were about to snap back til you narrowed your eyes at her. Her lips start to twitch. 

You know what she was doing. She was trying to rail you up and observe if she can still control your emotions. You knew she was secretly obsessed with dominance. You’ve seen it sparkle in her eyes when you fall into her schemes. She had made you go against your morals and unknowingly act like a puppet on a string. 

“I am not going to play your games this time,” You grumble. 

“Oh sweetie… you’ve already stepped into my playground,” She whispers. Chills run down your spine, but you try your best to ignore her. You slide a photo of one of her victims in front of her. You point your finger at it. 

“Tell me why you decided to kill this man,” You order. She tilts her chin down to look at the victim. She fakes a yawn and shrugs her shoulders. 

“He deserved it,” She sighs in boredom. You slide another photo to be side by side. 

“How about him?”

“Same thing,” 

“Him?” You add another photo. She gives the photo a quick glance, not even trying to fully look. 

“I didn’t kill him,” She addresses. She brings up her short fingernails to inspect. She notices a little dirt and focuses on digging it out. You let out a disbelief sigh, feeling your frustration building. 

“Yes, you did,” You remind her slowly. She lifts her head in amused shock. She leans her head to take a good look at the photo. Her eyes scan the face and then light up.

“Oh! Yes, yes I remember him now. I must have forgotten,’ she giggles, ‘Men look and act too alike.’ You quickly jot it down. You already knew this about her, but it is a small start. 

“So all these men have the same characteristic,” You repeat. She groans and rests her chin on her hand. 

“Yes, isn’t it obvious?” She mumbles. 

“I just need a clarification-“ She cuts you off by saying your name. The way your name rolls off her tongue sends a chill down your spine. It’s the dominating tone she loves to use. You immediately stop talking. You peek up at her between your lashes. She licks her bottom lip and dramatically waves her hand.

“I’ve been waiting for so long to see you and all you’re talking about is some foolish men?!” She fake cries. She pauses between her amusement to think. You furrow your eyebrows at her random action. Suddenly she brings her hand out to touch yours. Her rough fingertips rub the softness of your skin. Your mind storms with thoughts. You fight against yourself from enjoying her touch. Your breathing shakes. The corner of her lips curl into a smile when she realizes your inner struggle. Reality kicks in and you jerk your hand away. Your eyes dart to the camera. There are people on the other side watching. You didn't want them to see. She narrows her eyes and smiles daringly. She can tell you’re worried about the camera. You glare at her, ignoring the pounding of your heart. She pouts and returns her hand to her side. Your tense body starts to relax as you see her lean away. You thought it was the end of her playfulness, but it was just the beginning. 

“They can’t hear us,” She whispers. Suddenly you feel her foot dragging up your calves slowly. You widen your eyes at her to try and stop her. But that was pointless. You self cautiously nibble your bottom lip to ignore the build-up in your lower stomach. You dry swallow and force yourself to look normal. Her eyes darken when she realizes you’re not pulling away. She figures that underneath the table away from view is where she can mess around. 

“I’ve been lonely here,” She sighs, drawing small circles with her fingers on the table. You couldn’t speak as if she cast a spell on you. She drags her foot higher, touching the inner side of your knee. You let out a soft hick in your breath. Your cheeks start to feel warm.  

“Rio,” You warn vocally. She points a finger at you in a taunting way. 

“Let me ask you questions,” She glares. You couldn’t believe how easy it was for her to switch roles. You feel your jaw clench. Why are you so weak around her? It was as if you were the one in handcuffs.

“Did someone touch you while I’m in here?” She challenges. She asks in a joking tone, but you know better. You keep your face stone cold and refuse to talk. Her smile slowly drops. 

She misread you. 

She starts laughing like a maniac with her head tilted back which exposes her bare neck. Within a second she slams her fist onto the table. Your heart skips a beat in fear. Her face darkens and she clenches her jaw. The guard pounds onto the gate as a warning. 

“Who was it?” She commands. How dare she accuse you of such action. You lean close to her face. Her eyes waver at your presence, secretly enjoying your closeness. She nearly leans in, but she composes herself. 

“I am nothing like you,” You grimace. Your expression was laced with disgust. 

“Oh, but you are… admit it,” She taunts. You break eye contact to look down. The room is starting to get stuffy. You shift in your seat uncomfortable.

Rio knew this little part of you the moment she laid eyes on you. You were too infatuated with her crimes. You were never scared around her. You wanted to understand, but the lines between investigation and interest started to blur. You enjoy the chaos that Rio brings… and you hate that. You wanted to just be a normal FBI agent, but everyone else around you is too simple-minded. You needed a spark in which Rio satisfies. 

A nudge of her foot brings you back. Before you can react, she leans her body across the table to invade your space. She inhales your scent and sighs in pleasure. She misses you so much she couldn’t believe how long she was able to last without you. She tilts her head til her lips reach your ears. 

“You feel sick that you love me,” She whispers. Your heart slams against your chest. 

She caught you. The real truth.

You shove yourself away from the table. The chair squeaks awfully against the floor. Photos and papers flutter around and drop. Rio lets out a sickening cackle during the chaos. The guards barge through the gate and rush in. She puts her hand up in surrender. They roughly pull her arms back to handcuff her. She grunts in pain as they manhandle her. The warden rushes to your side to check up on you. 

“Are you alright?” He worries. You place a hand on your racing heart and dry swallow. You glance over to see Rio being dragged out of the room. She tries to give you one last look, but the guards tug her. 

“I am fine,” You reply, brushing your clothes in an attempt to collect yourself. You shakingly grab your bag. You give him a forceful smile before walking out. As you walk down the long hallway you place a hand on your forehead as a headache kicks in. 

-

You slam your hands against the metal table. The tight handcuffs around your wrist are starting to hurt. The detective in front of you rarely budges. Her gray suit hugs her curves well. She points at the bank blueprint. 

“Tell me how you planned the heist,” She orders.

“I didn’t do it!” You argue. She narrows her eyes and leans back into the chair. She tries to read you deeper. You didn’t understand how you got into this position. The detectives are accusing you of a bank heist on which you truly had no time to do. You’ve asked for your FBI team, but the police station refuses to allow you to talk to others. 

“Then explain to me why the robbers knew your name and address. They told us that you were the one who hired them,” She argues. She slams more photos onto the table. Evidence that shows purchasing receipts under your name and many more. You shake your head in shock and confusion. All of this does not make sense. You look up at her with pleading eyes. 

“Please let my FBI team handle this case. It wasn’t me,” You cry. It was a setup, but from who? There are plenty of people who are against you due to your label. The detective shakes her head and starts collecting the papers. She stands up and tugs her suit.

“If you’re not going to cooperate with me. We’ll find another day to discuss. Have fun being locked up for the time being,” She states as she struts away. You tug on the handcuffs and cry out to her. Begging her to let you go and that all of this was a setup. You didn’t care how the metal was digging into your skin. You were innocent. The door shuts, leaving you behind to sob alone in the empty room. 

-

You watch outside the window of the large van carrying other prisoners. Each woman has a different background and crime. You squeeze yourself the furthest away from everyone. You didn’t belong here. The van slows down in front of the prison you were at not long ago. An officer slides the van door open and orders everyone to get out. You helplessly follow along with everyone else. Getting out was a little hard due to the limitations of the handcuffs. The new set of inmates walk in a line to the first room. Everyone is ordered to strip to shower, do a full body search, and then given an orange suit. An officer starts directing everyone to a specific section of the prison when another officer stops you. 

“You. Come with me,” He orders. The other inmates look at you curiously but don’t dare to speak. They start taking a step away from you. You shake your head no, anxiety creeping up. 

“Why?” You squeak. 

He clenches your shoulders and drags you away from the inmates you came in with. You thrash against him til you eventually stop. He tugs you along without saying anything else. You anxiously look around to try and understand where he was bringing you. You notice he was bringing you deeper into the prison. The area begins to be more dark and eerie. You pass by many prison cells. Each is filled with women gawking at you like predators. A few of them whistled and laughed. You’re starting to realize this section of the prison is different from the one you were previously assigned to. 

“W-where are you taking me,” You ask. You try to stop walking, but he continues to push you along. After a few more minutes he stops in front of a prison cell. 

“This is your cell from now on,” He finally speaks up. He removes his hand from your shoulders. You immediately start rubbing the side of your shoulder to ease the gripping pain. He takes out a chain of keys and starts to unlock the cell. The gate swings open and you notice a woman with her back facing you already in it. Your cell partner. You take a step forward to go in, but then quickly stop. The woman in the cell turns around with a sinister smile. 

“Hello, my love,” Rio purrs. Your blood runs cold. You turn and attempt to run, but the officer grabs your body. You fight against him as much as you can. He grunts at the amount of force you're putting out. 

“You can’t put me in here!” You cry out. He pushes you into the cell and slams the gate shut before you can escape. You put your hands out to try and grab him. He quickly slips away and walks down the hallway, ignoring your begging. He disappears and your sobbing quiets down. You clench onto the cold metal gate. It was no use. Shaking, you turn around to face her. She stands at a good distance with a calm expression. 

“Are you done?” She asks. You glare at her venomously. She chuckles, her eyes twinkling. She brings her fingers up to her lips and rubs her bottom. 

“Just you and me again,” She smiles. 

“Don’t touch me,” You warn. She looks at you offended and points at herself. She shakes her head no slowly.

“You have no authority to order me around anymore. We are both here wearing orange suits-“

“I don’t belong here. It was a mistake,” You huff. She starts laughing a little hard while holding her stomach. She collects herself by letting out one small chuckle. She immediately stops and playfully narrows her eyes at you. She takes a teasing step towards you. You try taking a step back, but the gate traps you. 

“I know it was a mistake,” She starts. Your fearful face starts to drop. Your mind racing with the words she just spoke. 

“I mean… look at you. You wouldn’t even hurt a fly,” She whispers. Once she is in front of you she brings her hands up to your chin, slightly gripping it. She looks lovingly into your eyes. 

“I did this to you,” She whispers a confession. You try to shove her back, but she resists. You’ve lost all your strength from earlier. She grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the gate. She gently pulls you deeper into the room and wraps your hand around her shoulders. She then places her hands around your waist and pulls you close. 

“It was easy really. Planning and planting your name in the heist. It was like playing chess,” She whispers. Her breath tickles your ears. She starts swaying her body, forcing you to follow along. A slow dance as she inhales your hair. 

“You manipulating freak,” You choke out. She lets out a soft hum. Her fingers draw slow circles around your hip. 

“You caused this,” She claims. You close your eyes and clench your jaw. 

“I only have a few more days with you till your silly team takes you away from me,” She sighs, pulling away from the hug. She cups the side of your face with her hands. Her eyes are dilated with need. She leans her face to kiss you, but you turn your head to the side. Your heart has a mind of its own. It is pounding loudly. 

“Don’t do that,” She frowns. She takes your hand to place it on her chest. You can feel the fast beats of her heart underneath your fingers. A blush appears on your cheeks. She truly does feel for you. 

“I’ve been good. I waited for you,” She begs for approval. You turn your face to glare at her again. You were not willing to let your walls down. 

“It was my job to seduce you, what do you not understand?” You snap. She shakes her head in denial. Her pupils are black like the void. You could get lost in them. 

“But you fell in love during the act,” She argues. She wants you to admit the truth. She wants you to stop lying to yourself. Your eyes start to water in anger, confusion, and denial. 

“That’s… not true,” You try to sound truthful. 

“Do you really not feel anything when I do this?” She asks before softly pressing her plump lips against yours. You clench your fist as she barely deepens the kiss. She gently pulls away to examine your reaction. You let out a shaky breath, chest pumping up and down. She’s a genius body reader. You knew you couldn’t lie anymore. 

“You’re a criminal… I shouldn’t think this way,” You reject her. You feel your eyes starting to tear up. Your inner struggle is resurfacing. She rubs her thumb against your bottom lip. Her eyes fill with love.

“Don’t think… feel,” She whispers before kissing you again. Your mind threatens to come up with lies until you decide to feel. Just like what she said. She’s a psychopath, her moves are always calculated.. but god you love that so much. Even if this is part of her plan to get you to break, you will give in. You love her sick mind. No one else can think the way she does. 

You kiss back with caution. You shamefully believe a small kiss wouldn’t mean anything. She hums between the shared kiss and it stirs something in you. You wanted to hear it again. You press into the kiss with more passion. Your mouth opens to slide your tongue into her mouth. The feeling of need bursts through your body after being kept hidden. Her tongue touches against yours. She smiles between the kisses as she moans again. She knew she successfully broke you again. You were hers and she never felt happier. She never felt this amount of satisfaction when killing men. No, only you were the one to evoke this feeling in her. 

“Kneel,” She demands as she pulls away from the kiss. Your lips are wet, red, and slightly swollen. You try to kiss her again, but she places her hand on your head. She chuckles a little as she pats your head to go down. You look at her with worried eyes, but she gently assures you. You eventually obey her and start to kneel on the cement floor. The ground is rough on your knees. You rub your hands on her thighs before looping your fingers at her waistline. You tug and help her get her pants and panties off. You lick your lips as you stare at her core. She spreads her legs and gently tugs your head to come closer. Her scent clouds your thoughts. 

“Reward me. I’ve been waiting so long,” She begs. You have never heard her this needy before. You give her inner thighs kisses before you split her folds with your fingers. You stick out your wet tongue and slowly lick her clit. She sighs and rubs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue continues to circle her clit so that you can get her more wet. You give her clit a few sucks which causes her to groan softly. She licks her lips and grips your head harder. Your tongue drags along her slit and back up to her clit. Her juice is starting to leak out more. You hum in satisfaction as your saliva mixes in with her silky juice. Your tongue pushes into her core to collect more. You go back to her clit to lick and suck harder and faster. She rolls her hips into your mouth. You look up to see her cheeks red. Her mouth slightly opens and her lower exposed stomach flexes. You roll your tongue harshly against her clit and she moans. 

“Fuck… I miss this,” She breathes. She puts two hands on your head and pushes you into her. She uses your head to please herself at the pace she wants. You close your eyes and stick out your tongue to make yourself a use for her. Her hips thrusting into your mouth becomes more harsh. Her liquid starts to spread all over your lips and chin. She moans a little louder, causing you to tap her thighs to warn her to stay more quiet. 

“Your mouth feels too good,” She grunts. You grip her thighs to keep her still as you suck and lick hard. She rolls her head back and moans. Her face expresses ecstasy and pleasure. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth opens to whimper and moan. She looks so good like this. Your cunt clenches painfully at nothing. 

“Keep going, I'm close,” She hums. She grabs your hair hard, almost making you cry out. Her juice is rolling down your chin. Her moan starts becoming high-pitched, indicating how much closer she is. You bring your middle and ring finger up. You easily push it into her wet pulsing core. You pull your fingers in and out quickly, before curling and pressing into her walls. You don’t lose focus of your pace. She brings one hand up to cover her mouth from moaning too loud. Her thighs start to shake uncontrollably. She reaches her high and eases herself out by jerking her hips into your mouth. She cusses and moans while gently patting your head. Once she finishes, she tugs your head away from her wet core. Your lower face is covered in her sweet juice. Her chest moves up and down as she catches her breath. She smiles sweetly at you, still kneeling, waiting for her orders. 

“Come here,” She says. You stumble a little getting up from the hard ground. You take off the orange suit. The cold prison air prickles your skin. She pulls you into another passionate kiss. Her finger starts playing with your core, causing you to moan into her mouth. Your cunt is already wet from pleasing her. She easily collects your silk with her middle finger to mess with your clit. You were louder than her, causing her to shut you up with kisses. She doesn’t go slow, she rubs quickly and ruthlessly. You gasp and grip onto her shoulders. 

“You wanted this,” She chuckles. 

“Y-yes,” You pant. She shoves her long middle finger into you. She finds it coming in and out too easily. She decided to add in her ring finger. She wants to feel your walls squeeze around her digits. You feel the air in your lungs getting shut off for a moment. The stretch feels so good. You jerk your hips into her hands. 

“Stay still,” She orders, spreading your legs more. She leans her face back to kiss you as she thrusts her hands into you harder causing your legs to shake. You let out a loud moan which makes her stop. She leans back and glares at you. You were too loud. She takes her other hand to grip your face. Her face is stern. 

“Keep quiet or else the guards will remove you,” She warns. You quickly nod your head while licking your lips. It might be a hard task, but you’re not willing to risk it. 

She releases her grip from your face. She places her hand over your mouth to shut it. She returns to adding a third finger in without warning. You sob into her hands. Your stomach clenches in pain and pleasure. The wet sounds of her fingers thrusting into your core are embarrassingly loud. She loves it so much. If she couldn’t hear your screams at least she can hear this. Your silk is running down her knuckles, making a mess. She leans her lips to your ears and whispers praises. 

“You’re such a good dirty girl for me,” She purrs. You clench around her digits and shut your eyes. You cuss into her hands. Your legs start to shake and you feel yourself getting close. She hungrily craves your orgasm. She keeps her fast and harsh pace, causing you to hold onto her or else you will fall. You moan and whimper into her palm. She can feel you getting close. She knows your body too well. 

“Come for me baby,” She licks the shell of your ears. With a few more harsh thrusts, your breathing stops as you release yourself to her. She continues fingering you through your orgasm. Your liquid rolls down your thighs. She removes her other hand from your lips and you gasp for air. She gently pulls her three fingers out of you. Your core is still pulsing. She shushes you and kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then to your lips. You try your best to kiss her back as you still feel lightheaded. You pull away, holding her face close to yours. 

“I love you,” You weakly confess. You allow yourself to feel. You didn’t care if everyone was going to judge you. She pauses in awe. She couldn’t believe it at first, but your words finally reached into her heart. She engulfs you in a hug. You can feel the vibration from her laughter. The sound echoes down the hallway. The guards and inmates furrow their eyebrows. The first time they hear the ‘lady of death’ in pure happiness.

[vincivilworld]

GATE CE: Exam Date, Notification, Eligibility and Online Coaching

The Graduate Aptitude Test in Engineering (GATE) is one of the most prestigious national-level entrance exams in India. Every year, the exam is conducted by the Indian Institute of Science (IISc) and seven Indian Institutes of Technology (IITs) on a rotational basis. The GATE exam tests the aptitude of engineering and science graduates aspiring for higher education and jobs in the field of…

[macfrog]

epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it’ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. “It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

[cheesus-doodles]

Letters

Yandere Rollo

Masterlist | TWST Masterlist

‎

i like my repressed christian boys a lot if yall can't tell ;-;, couldn't pass up on this....tr will be back on schedule next!

Rollo Flamme never imagined himself as simply ordinary. He had always been destined to be extraordinary, committed and focused, willing to put in the work to achieve perfection. Yes, there was no doubt that there were ways to go to meet his goals, seeing as his fire lily plan went up in flames on first contact with that wretched Malleus Draconia and his Night Raven buddies despite his months of meticulous planning and careful scheming.

Yet here he was, walking at a speed Rollo hoped didn’t divulge how fast his heart was pounding away, your letter carefully tucked away deep within his robes, pressed right up against his chest. Green eyes concentrated on nothing but his next step, his poker-face and overall reputation as the Student Council President a god-sent for keeping unwanted attention away as he cut a path through the school towards his room, hands clasped in front of him as they always were. 

Outside the gates of Noble Bell College, Fleur City was as lively as ever, the hustle and bustle of a city coming back to life under the gentle evening sun echoed throughout the conversely silent campus as people enjoyed busking in the remaining sunlight after a long day of work. It was an exceptionally cool day too, the white-haired boy noted to himself, the breeze sweeping down the hallways and bursting forth into the open air strong enough to lift the ends of his robes.

A respectful mumble of “Rollo-kaicho” rose from the scatter of students milling around as he walked past, though nothing that a returned nod of acknowledgement couldn’t settle.

The peacefulness that blanketed the stately campus as the sun sank further and further down the horizon reminded him much of the night of the Young Mage’s Social ball, and more so, you. Rollo could recall that particular evening with perfect clarity, the sights and sounds replaying again in his head as the purple-clad mage made his way indoors, the old wooden door swinging shut behind him with nay a creak, shutting out both the wind and the sounds of the city.

‎

His own footsteps were the only sound ringing across otherwise empty corridors as the boy turned the situation he had found himself unexpectedly stuck in over and over again in his mind. It had never been his intention to fall over his own set trap, yet how was it he did so anyway despite all his wariness and discipline?

This had all begun as a plot for revenge right after he had been bested, by villains no less. It would be hard for Rollo to even admit that he had come to terms with the beating he received several months ago, let alone the night after it happened, and his next plot had already begun to hatch the moment you swept into view dressed in your masquerade costume, accompanied by none other than Malleus himself. From everything he witnessed, it was clear that the Draconia housewarden cared greatly for you, and dare he guess, maybe even had some unexpressed feelings for you. 

Not that he hadn’t noticed you before that night, but it was certainly the first time that he had come to realize just how central a place you held among the Night Raven College students, and how crucial a card you would be in his next plan to wipe that smug smirk off of that wretched fae prince’s face.

The night of the Young Mages’ Social ball had been surprisingly ordinary, given what had just happened. He had been exhausted and dead on his feet, even if he showed no sign of it outwardly; the orderliness of the hall that he painstakingly cleaned after the last fire lotus had withered was a welcomed sight. Alas there was no time for sleep, not that it would matter given his already heavy eyebags. But despite his state, you had instantly caught his eye at the start of the ball, quietly huddled towards the back of the Night Raven group, trying your best to look anywhere but at him or at the rest of the crowd as you and your friends were singled out as the saviors of Fleur City. And it was obvious that you were feeling even more out-of-place as the dance began in earnest, though whether it was from the crowds or just general awkwardness, Rollo could not say.

Taking his leave from the merrymaking, the white-haired Council President could find no surprise within him when he found you sitting alone later outside of the hall, enjoying the peace and quiet that had fallen over the city with the arrival of night, looking up at the blanket of stars, a glass of what looked like juice in your hand.

“May I join you?”

You had jumped at his words, though you did settle quickly upon realizing it was just him for reasons unbeknownst to Rollo. “By all means,” you replied, waving him down to join you. After all, he did just try to essentially kill your friends and all mages in general. Perhaps you knew something he didn’t, the purple-clad student mused to himself, subtly watching you from the corner of his pale green eyes. Or perhaps you were just presumptuous, given you hadn’t been affected as badly as the rest.

The dark sky was clear of clouds, the dark of space dotted with twinkles as far as the eye could see, the moon hanging alone amidst the barren sky; an alluring sight for weary souls - and judging from how discreetly you had excused yourself from the social, you definitely were tired. 

A pause as Rollo took a seat a respectful distance from you. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

Whatever it was, you seemingly held no ill will towards Rollo, simply accepting his quiet company. And so the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the young mages danced and laughed the night away just a stone’s throw away. The minutes melted into hours as the world continued to turn, though the calmness of the reality around him was a far cry from the turmoil of thoughts within his head. 

When the night started to grow old and the cacophony of noises began to die down, it was as if an unheard bell had gone off, and you reluctantly stood, empty glass now in hand - your friends were bound to come looking for you should they notice you were missing. And with you leaving soon and that night being the last one you were spending at Noble Bell College, it was finally time to launch the first phase of his plan.

”I would like to write to you,” Rollo started, immediately cringing internally as the words left his lips, but there was no going back now. “If it is alright with you.”

He held his breath as you considered his request, your head cocking to the side as you contemplated. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged, shooting him a light smile, your hair gleaming in the waning moonlight. “Goodnight, Rollo.”

Exhale. And that was that.

‎

But now here he was, Rollo mused, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to read your letter alone. Has his plan gone astray? He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of you, just till he could be alone. For all his routine and self-discipline, you were the one temptation he couldn’t seem to get squash down.

Coming to a pause at the fork in the hallway, the Noble Bell Council President paused. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted tonight in the midst of his much-needed analysis of your letter, so against the burning desires of his heart and the weight of your letter heavy in his robes, he forced himself to take a detour, his feet carrying him down sparse corridors towards the councilrooms. It was easy to spot his Vice President still hard at work amidst the otherwise empty room, scouring through a stack of papers at his desk, head down and pen scribbling away.

A quiet clearing of his throat was enough to get the attention of the occupant inside. “Rollo-kaicho!” Said student rocketed up from his seat, hurriedly adjusting his slipping striped cap. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“I wanted to check in before I retired for the day,” replied the white-haired boy, giving a courteous glance to the rest of the unoccupied desks before returning his gaze to the other. “Is there anything I should know about?”

The Noble Bell Vice President stuttered for a moment, lost for words and wrecking his tired brain in an attempt to find what to say. “I-uh-“

Pulling out his celestial-patterned handkerchief, his movement just barely managed to cover the disgusted look that fell over his expression, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing as the stench of magic overwhelmed his senses, though Rollo still managed to keep his tone neutral. Even if he was the one to initiate contact, that hardly made a difference with his nausea. “It’s fine,” the magic-adverse mage managed to grit out without a hint of distaste, his tone as neutral as it always has been. “Please have the points ready for me tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Rollo-kaicho. I apologize again.”

‎

Finally being able to lock his room door behind him brought a relief much like cold water over hot iron, ending the depraved pulsing in his mind that the mere presence of the envelope in his robes against his chest brought on with every passing second. Tossing the heinous paper carelessly onto his well-worn table top, Rollo instead hurriedly picked it back up again, pale green eyes scanning for any further damage he had caused, though fortunately there was none to be found.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the white-haired boy settled into his chair. Now, to satisfy both his curiosity and anticipation.

Trembling fingers carefully peeled open the envelope, revealing a slightly yellowed, unevenly folded paper much to Rollo’s chagrin - he would have much preferred if you used a perfect white piece of paper, quality stationery instead of this random piece you must have had left over from your homework, and if you had folded it the same way he did all this time. But he supposed he couldn’t expect that high a standard from you, given the riff-raff of mages you found yourself in the company of. As he gently freed your letter from its paper enclosure, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the smell probably having lingered on from when you first mailed it out.

The light fragrance of your favorite shampoo, Rollo deduced, bringing the paper up to his nose. He recognized it, no matter how faint it was. You must have just finished showering when you wrote and sealed the letter if the aroma still endured. A breath of fresh air amidst the rank odor of magic and mages.

And then he began to read.

Dear Rollo, the letter began as it always did, those two words enough to have his heart skip a beat like nothing else could. But this time, the next few that followed were even better. Your letter came late, and it was sorely missed.

Line by line, you spelled out your daily ongoings, your interactions with your fellow schoolmates, your inner thoughts. Rambling about anything and everything that came to mind, thoughts spilling out without filter straight onto paper. About how Grimm (that filthy magic cat) nearly failed his test again and about how Deuce and Ace got into their latest spat of trouble with their housewarden Riddle. About how Jack and Epel were like to work with on your history project, and how you felt about one of your lunches being stolen by Leona.

Just like that, the minutes slipped through his finger, and with a pang in his heart, Rollo came to the end of your letter.

He placed the paper down on the paper, taking a breath.

How was it that he could feel so attached to another person through a simple piece of paper? How did you ensnare him so effortlessly, bypassing his hard-fought discipline as if it didn’t exist? Did all this mean that his revenge plot against Malleus had already gone awry?

‎

The night was cool and quiet, the moonlight that shone through his stained glass windows bringing the Noble Bell Council President back to that fateful night. A light gust of wind seeped in through a small crack, creaking the old wooden panels in the floor as it blew through his room. 

Your writing had improved, Rollo noted, as per his guidance in his previous letter. You were using a ruler to ensure straight lines, and your handwriting had neaten greatly; a far cry from your first reply to him, the memory of those scrawling letters that ran up and done and every-which way except straight across the paper still causing shivers to run down his spine. That was bad.

Carefully and painstakingly refolding the paper, Rollo stood, returning it to its envelope before moving to stow the letter within his secret compartment above the fireplace, with previous letters neatly arranged upright according to date received. His fingers lightly brushed past all your correspondence with him, his chest fluttering at your willingness to speak with him, his mind already churning with how and what he should reply to you. Would you be interested in perhaps coming back to Noble Bell? Maybe he should visit Night Raven College? Even if that blasted Draconia was there, it would be worth it just to have some private, personal time with you, the white-haired mage calculated, his hand tapping an unknown rhythm across his desk that he now leaned against.

‎

There was no point in denying his obsession with you, not at this point - it had been awhile since you started to occupy his every waking moment and thoughts, and being as organized and detailed as Rollo was, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to spiral. Sure, his first letter had been full of nothings, meaningless pleasantries and stories that he polished to perfection over the course of a night of restlessness. But what he got back was your heart on your sleeve, your mind like an open book for him to pick apart and examine.

As things turned out, the more he picked, the more he found. Questions he sent always came back answered, with you evidently letting slip more than you intended to originally say, sometimes directly and sometimes when he read between the lines. 

A single line in your third reply to him was all it took to begin his unending slide. 

You were from a different world.

The more he sat on it, turning it around and round in his mind, the more his chest grew warm, and you began his center of focus. Even the mere passing pondering of what you were doing now was enough to grip Rollo’s entire being, to have his heart rate increase and his thoughts to jumble. After all, in this foul, tainted world, there could be no purer person than someone who came from a place where no magic exists.

You were perfection embodied. 

In a twist of fate, you turned out to be pure, a shining beacon amidst the foul-smelling heathens. A gift from the heavens, a blessings from the divine meant for none other than him, that no one could properly appreciate except for him. Sure you weren’t the most orderly, and you did have your moments where you were occasionally wowed by magic, especially the inhuman feats from that wretched Malleus Draconia, but you remained untainted despite your constant proximity to the taint of magic that surrounded and cloaked you as if a heavy fog. Never indicated anything more than a passing interest in the magic that your companions wielded and an admiration that Rollo was sure he could rid you off. All you needed was time away from those mages, spent instead in his company.

‎

Stepping away from his desk and moving now towards his personal bathroom, Rollo came to the answer he had been looking for as the boy moved to undress himself for a nighttime shower. It had been in front of him all this time.

The answer was no. 

No, he hadn’t forsaken his plan to wield you against Malleus; sure the exact details had changed as the months went by, but everything he did was as he had schemed. Just that now, you didn’t have to be a means to an end, you didn’t need to be just another casualty wrecked up amidst his crusade against the villains. Stealing you away from the fae prince would be one of the largest blows he could deal with to that condescending prick, the beginning of his downfall - the excitement tingling at Rollo’s arms as he imagined the crestfallen expression that would twist Draconia’s face, the streak-free bathroom mirror reflecting the pale green eyes that lighted up in callous pleasure.

It would be glorious.

But for now, Rollo determined, schooling his face back into its usual neutral look as he turned to step into the shower room, what he needed to concentrate on was his next letter to you.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 , jacaerys velaryon and baela targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were born a fighter you had to be the life you lived didn't allow you the liberty of comfort growing up not knowing any form of affection until they came

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , jacaerys velaryon x fem! fighter! reader x baela targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , okay so ngl this was only meant to be one part but I just had so many idea's. also I know the request said jace and luke but I couldn't help but add my girl baela but dw their is gonna be some platonic luke in the next part heheh

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ since the day you were born you were alone. your father left you before you were born. your mother died giving birth to you. so from the moment you took your first breath. you were completely and utterly alone. you weren't high born. meaning your name bore you no luxuries nor status to fall back on. you had nothing.

⌗ so like every other common born you turned to the extremes to make ends meet. and your method just so happened to be the most dangerous of them all. fighting. now fights weren't uncommon in kings landing. especially child ones. often done in dark alleyways where hoards of drunks and gamblers came to spectate.

⌗ and while it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world it paid rather well if you were the winning party. and it was better than becoming a whore. so you tried your hand at it at the ripe age of nine. and haven't looked back since. the fights started off small. meaning small payouts.

⌗ but once you developed a reputation of being undefeated you graduated from street fights with other children and drunks to the big leagues. arena fights. it was no secret that the royals and highborns of king's landing enjoyed watching arena fights. with most betting ridiculous amounts of money on a certain fighter.

⌗ praying to the seven they can reap the rewards. but the more money they gambled the more money there was to be paid out to the winning fighter. which is why you had signed up for every arena fight since the age of sixteen.

⌗ your first had been a memorable one. with everyone counting you out from the jump. which didn't surprise you. as you were surrounded by experienced and stronger fighters. but by playing your cards right you were the last woman standing.

⌗ three years later and you were still undefeated and had become a favourite among the gambling highborn's. as not only were you a safe gamble. but you were also entertaining to watch. life was good. you had more money than you knew what to do with. when you weren't fighting you spent your days in the peace and quiet of your newly purchased home. until the next fight rolled around.

⌗ which just so happened to be a very special one. the fight was in honour of prince jacaerys velaryon's name day. to you it was run of the mill. all you had to do was go out there and win.

⌗ jace sat up on the balcony with his family. waiting for the fight to begin. truth be told he hated events like these. senseless violence that was passed off as exceptionable entertainment. but unfortunately he would have to bare though this as this was being thrown in his honour.

⌗ as he sat between his brother luke and his betrothed baela. he watched as the fighter flooded out of the gates and into the arena. jace's eyes were immediately drawn to a certain individual. she looked the same age as him and baela. though her body was far more toned and littered with scars. wearing scraped silver armour plating. she was as beautiful as she was intimidating.

⌗ and it seemed his betrothed agreed. "she's beautiful isn't she?" baela whispered to him. to which he could only nod. as the two watched the fight on the edge of their seat. the pair knew that they enjoyed duck and goose and were honest with each other very early on in their betrothal. so they had no problem admitting they found another attractive. or inviting them to their bed. and as the two silently looked at each other they knew they had to speak to you. even if it was just once.

⌗ as the fight drew to a conclusion and you once again stood victorious over the rest. walking out of the arena and into the fighter's area. you collected to earnings for the night. but as you went to leave you were stopped by a guard. who informed you that you had been summoned to the royal box.

@avatar4life , Gio, can I get a headcanon for Jacaerys and Lucerys, can be either platonic or romantic your pick, and can you make it about a reader being an arena fighter and them trying to save her and gain her trust? And she's tall and buff with scars scattered around her body. Hope you have a good day or night or evening!!

[goldenroutledge]

intimidated

pairing: jj maybank x kook!reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: you’re there for jj when it matters most. (inspired by this post)

warning(s): sprinkles of angst, but fluffy in the end.

a/n: the song i had in mind while writing this was intimidated by kaytranada & h.e.r <3

jj maybank masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

JJ Maybank didn’t need handouts. As he told it, his independence was his most valuable asset. It’s what made him a pogue through and through. “Is freedom anything else than the right to live as we wish?”— An Epictetus quote JJ scribbled down, bored as ever in his freshman English class. His life motto condensed into twelve simple words, whether his newfound ‘freedom’ was out of his control or not. Either way, he played the cards he was dealt.

His friends— no, scratch that— his family, were his escape to comfort. A soft, pillowy landing from the nose dive that was his life. A foreign concept to him until he met John B, then Pope, then Kiara, then you. A refuge of safety, ironically enough, given the many times you all had looked death in the face.

Even though the pogues had already started wearing matching friendship bracelets that Kiara made by the time you came along, it was a smooth transition when you were welcomed into the group with open arms. By some more than others at first, given your kook status. But just as they’d embraced Kie, your initiation into the group was no different.

While it took time for JJ in particular to come around, his reservations were understandable. At first, you gave him his space and he gave you yours. Always letting him set the tone and lead the way.

As time went on, JJ soon decided he wouldn’t mind having you around him all the time, there was no going back. JJ loved to the point of no return, and it was incomparable to anything— or how anyone else could ever make you feel.

At times, he felt like that was all he had to offer. Nothing but fierce loyalty and protection over the ones he loves most. But you. To JJ, you were the fine line between hideaway and heaven itself. Even if he thought he may not end up there, he was sure that it would be you he’d meet at heaven’s gates.

Amongst any conflict or tension within the group, you always provided a safe haven for him to retreat to, though he had difficulty admitting it. In a way you had a solution for everything. Keeping tensions low and spirits high in the process. You were the original peacemaker of the group, before his precious gun came along.

Right now, it was almost all he could think about while he sat there, beer in hand, listening to John B and Sarah argue in the distance. How he wishes you were here, to ease his nerves and settle the anxiety simmering in his chest.

JJ hated this. He hated that nobody seemed to get along anymore. With all that was going on with the others, he wouldn’t even think to mention his problems. The looming eviction notice on his house, one of few things he had left on this island. While everyone’s lives continued to progress, JJ’s was at a standstill. No job, no parents, and now his friend group was falling apart at the seams. And with everyone else occupied these days, he was alone.

JJ, selfless as usual, would hate to bother you, no matter how badly he wanted to. He knew you’d have some inspirational shit to say to him. Though he’d poked fun at it sometimes, he’d never needed anything more right now.

The sound of footsteps came before JJ saw them, watching Sarah storm off and away from John B as he stood there, tense and silent.

JJ could be hot headed at times, that was no secret. He could understand his friends' quarrels to an extent. But he couldn’t look past the fact that you all were supposed to be sticking together, especially right now. When he said that nothing good could happen once you all returned to Kildare, he knew he was right. Call it a gut feeling.

-

Naturally, Sarah told you everything. Confidant, mom-friend, advisor— all titles bestowed upon you by your close group of friends over the years. You’d always tried to be as neutral as possible in times of conflict. Though in matters of the heart it was nearly impossible.

Days after her fight with John B, she found herself laying on your bed, venting all of her bottled up frustrations about him and the state of their relationship.

“I’m a mess, Y/n. I feel like such a mess.”

You looked at her sympathetically, knowing there wasn’t much you could do. Just listen, just be there in her time of need.

“So, I took my bag from the Chateau and I left. Kie’s parents told me I couldn’t stay, then I went to JJ’s and he wasn’t home. He’s working at Guffy’s again last I heard.”

You briefly glanced up at the mention of JJ’s name— and it didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah. Instead of divulging about it, she continued her rant.

“Then I was just wandering around, because it’s not like I had anything better to do. And who sees me drinking at Tiki Bar? Topper.”

“Topper?”

“Topper.”

You internally cringed at the mention of the Thornton boy. He was always nice when you saw him, nothing bad nor good to say about him. But you knew deep down he was Sarah’s achilles heel. He reminded her of everything she once had, the person she once was. Lately, you couldn’t help but crave some normalcy too.

“So.. what happened?”

She sighs heavily, dropping her hand across her eyes. “We went to Mase.”

“Alone?”

“We went with some people from KDC. The old crew, Kelce, Phoebe…”

“Is that it?”

“We made out.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut in fear of your reaction, knowing it’d probably show on your face before anything.

“Oh.” You swallowed back any judgment you might’ve had, compartmentalizing your love for John B and choosing to hear Sarah out. “And how do you feel about it?”

“Awful. I mean Topper has been so good to me lately with everything going on, he’s always there to pick up the pieces and I just feel bad. It was a mistake.”

“It can’t happen again, y’know. Not if you want to work it out with John B.”

“I do, I wanna work it out with him.” She urged. “And then the next morning we had breakfast. Kie came into the restaurant and saw us together and I think she got the wrong message. She said she’s staying out of it but I can tell what she’s thinking.” Sarah takes a deep inhale, and a deep exhale to follow. “What do I do, Y/n?”

It still baffles you at times that you’ve become the voice of reason. You hope Sarah doesn’t notice that you feel uneasy about the whole thing. “Just… be honest. Don’t let John B find out from anyone other than you. He’s gonna be upset but he has a right to be.”

The blonde sits up, crawls over to you and envelopes you into her arms. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

Sun reflected brightly off the boats docked at the marina, the two smoothie cups in your hand sweating from the sweltering heat. Your family's boat was kept here at Guffy’s; particularly when your parents weren’t in town to cruise around the island and daydrink with their kook friends.

At least you had an alibi, just in case you happened to run into JJ. The two medium strawberry banana smoothies you carried might need some explanation, though.

Ever since you all had made it back to the island, JJ had been hard to track down. He was rarely in one place for too long. So where else better to catch him than at work?

“Y/n? How are you doing today?” Billy questions from a distance away, putting on his friendliest smile for the daughter of his best clients.

“Can’t complain. Happy to be back.”

“And it’s good to have you back. Everything alright with the boat?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine, I just realized I left behind my favorite sunglasses.” You explained, hoping your excuse sounded authentic enough.

“Alright. You take care, now.”

“Actually… I was wondering is JJ around?”

“Maybank? He was here a few days ago.”

“Hm, I could’ve sworn he was working today.”

Billy sighs, eyebrows furrowing. “Listen, Ms. Y/l/n, I know you want to advocate for your boyfriend and all but JJ can’t work here.”

Confusion spread through your features this time as you genuinely had no idea what the man was getting at. You chose to not correct him when he’d mistaken you for JJ’s girlfriend.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid. I know he wants the job back but Guffy put a pin in it. I’m sorry. Really not much I can do.”

You forced a polite smile on your face as the dots connected, remembering the melting smoothie you held in your left hand while your half-finished one remained in your right. The two of you exchanged brief goodbyes before you quickly left the marina.

If JJ really hadn’t been working at Guffy’s again, where the hell was he? His act of disappearing was unmatched, but so was your skill of guessing.

If a game of hide-n-seek is what he wanted, a game of hide-n-seek is what he will get.

-

Grass brushed against your ankles as you approached JJ’s home, your steps careful as you looked around for him.

Going to JJ’s home was forbidden. When Luke was around, that is. He was a phantom— an ugly, dark presence looming over the quaint home that would otherwise feel serene. The chirping birds in the trees couldn’t tell the difference.

You haven't been here many times. The times you had been here weren’t anything you nor JJ wanted to remember. The feeling of uncertainty creeped into your mind from your past visits. You never knew what to expect.

To your left, there was a beautiful, never-ending view of the water past the grass of the Maybank’s yard. You hadn’t noticed that before. This spot had probably seen some beautiful sunsets. In a moment of imagination, you almost pictured sitting there with JJ on the plush green, hand in hand, watching the warm hues of the sky melt into a dark night.

The caution tape wrapping around the wood of the house caught your interest as you made your way onto the porch, also noticing the eviction letter left on the door, moving closer for a better look.

“Y/n?”

JJ called out, appearing from around the corner of his home, startling you out of concentration as you re-read the notice again and again.

As if you didn’t come over to finally see him in the first place. Though you couldn’t speak— for once unsure of what to say. ‘Sorry you’re getting evicted?’, it just didn’t sound right. Then again it might’ve been better than standing frozen and staring at him, silently, like you were doing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- um…. I brought you a smoothie.”

You held out the cup, approaching him and handing it to him. He stood there dumbfounded, eyebrows furrowed. His lips eventually pursed into a smile as a way to say thank you. This wasn’t the relaxed JJ you were accustomed to; nonetheless he was still the JJ you loved.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. The smoothie.”

“You came all the way out here from your mansion on Figure 8 to bring me a smoothie?”

“What?” You scoffed, his tone dictating where the conversation was headed. Most likely nowhere.

“Go back to reading by your pool or something. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I haven’t heard from you in days, JJ. I’m just checking up on you.”

“So what? You touring around the Cut now? Delivering smoothies to lost pogues? Is Heyward’s your next stop?”

He resumed tinkering with his bike, and from the looks of it he was working rather aggressively— desperate to distract himself from the conversation at hand.

“I miss my best friend. Am I not allowed to miss you anymore? I mean it’s not like we were stranded on an island together… not knowing whether we would live or die!”

“Well, we’re not exactly a big happy family right now. You should know that.”

“Yeah. John B and Sarah are on some kind of break. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see you, that doesn’t have anything to do with us. I thought we were past the whole picking sides thing.”

“I’ve been busy.” JJ shrugs.

“Busy working? At the job you lied about having?”

His eyes snapped to yours immediately. Your heart clenched as soon as the words left your mouth, you didn’t mean to go too far. But at least you had his attention.

“What, are you stalking me now? Or did you hire a P.I. to figure that out?”

“Hilarious, JJ. I was at the marina earlier to grab something off my boat. Actually hoping I would run into you but, whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

A few moments of awkward silence lingered between the two of you, as you kicked a pebble around with your foot.

“I know you don’t owe me anything… but you could’ve just told me.”

He paused his movements, thinking about how he was going to respond.

“Tell you what? That I prefer mixed berry over strawberry banana?” He jested, smiling to himself.

“I’m not talking about the smoothie, idiot.”

His eyes drifted over to his home, knowing exactly what you were thinking, just afraid to acknowledge it.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Y/n.”

“And I know that. I just wanna help you, however you’ll let me.”

“Well, you can help me by not helping me. I’ll figure it out. Always do.”

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here.”

At that, he dropped his tools, running tense hands through his hair. “But you aren’t here! You don’t have to live like this and you should be glad that you don’t!”

He raised his voice at you, frustrated. JJ was never good at putting his feelings into words, especially when it came to actually expressing them.

He didn’t know how he could tell you about everything. The worst day he’s ever had, the lowest he’s ever been. He couldn’t see a way in which he could tell you all of it and carry on the same. You were always a constant in his life. He needed it to stay that way, by any means necessary.

“That doesn’t make sense, JJ. What’s the point of having anything nice if I can’t share it with the people I love?”

The both of you were taken aback at what your explanation implied. In actuality, it took all of your power not to say those three words to him outright. But you couldn’t, not like this.

“You don’t have to pretend to care that much. I’m sure you can find another community service project to focus on.”

“Community service?” You chuckled emptily, baffled at his ridiculousness, though deep down you knew this was how he dealt with things. He simply didn’t know anything other than defensiveness. “That’s what you think this is?”

JJ closed his eyes in exasperation, wishing this conversation away. He could hear it in your voice, your feelings were hurt. Maybe not as bad as when your 8th grade crush asked someone else to the Valentine’s dance— but even a little was too much.

“If you’re gonna reduce our decade of friendship to me doing charity work, I guess there’s no changing your mind. I’m just wasting my breath.”

The words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize instantly, but now he wasn’t sure if his apologies were something you’d wanna hear at the moment. He wasn’t sure if you’d believe him.

For all the disingenuous apologies he’d accepted over the years, he’d hate to put you on the receiving end of one. Even if his heart truly was in the right place, JJ couldn’t muster up the courage to show it.

“You don’t have to antagonize me. Because everything you’re blaming me for, it isn’t my fault. Just like this isn’t your fault either.” You gestured to the eviction notice at his door.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “You’re right.”

“Say what you want about me, but I just wanna know that you’re okay. And if it’s an apology you’re looking for, you’re not gonna get it. I’ll never apologize for that.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say. All he could do was try to understand.

Realizing he had no further comments, you turned your back to leave.

“Will I see you at the Chateau tomorrow?” You asked over your shoulder, hope remaining in your voice despite the uneasiness that remained between you two.

“Don’t count on it.”

“Alright, well… bye.”

JJ waves, before muttering a monotone ‘thanks for the smoothie’ as he watches you go.

-

Since returning to the island, it was an unspoken thing that you all were to meet up at the Chateau at some point. And with all the new developments in your lives lately, these meetings were much needed.

Pope handed you a beer as he came into John B’s living room, opening one of his own as he sat down beside you.

John B and Sarah seemed to be laying low, but it was clear they were back together or had come to some sort of resolution.

Kiara was going on about how much shit her parents had been giving her lately. They’d been hovering— watching over their daughter’s every move from the moment she set foot on the island again.

Pope told the group about how Cleo had won over Heywar in record time, much faster than John B or JJ. Pope’s parents simply wanted the best for him, and knew that the danger and mischief his friends came with couldn’t be productive.

“We’ve been best friends for what…? 13 years?” John B recalls. “And your dad can hardly stand the sight of me but Cleo won him over in a few minutes? How?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not at all.” John B holds his hands up in surrender to Cleo, Pope smirking beside her as he witnesses the interaction. “Just confused.”

“I have many superpowers, John.”

“Apparently! Winning over Heyward is like, unheard of in this group. At least for JJ and me.” John B explains, sipping his beer.

“Speaking of, where’s he at?”

At the shift in conversation, you can feel several pairs of eyes fall upon you. All you can do is act as normal as possible, tipping off any of your friends always ends badly in the case of keeping a secret. Until the cat’s out of the bag, your friends will make it their personal mission to reveal whatever it is you’re hiding.

You raised your eyebrows, pretending to only catch onto their stares moments later. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“No reason. It’s not like you guys are secretly together or anything.” Pope mutters under his breath, catching a glare from you at his false claim.

“We’re not. I wouldn’t know where he is.”

John B hisses, pretending to shiver. “Is it a little chilly in here? Or is that just Y/n’s cold shoulder?”

You roll your eyes, further proving his point until Sarah chimes in, pondering if she should speak up about what she knows.

“I actually stopped by JJ’s the other day. He.. wasn’t home.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t he go fishing? Probably not back yet.” John B remembers.

“I don’t think he’ll be going home anytime soon.”

At this your eyes meet Sarah’s hazel ones, full of hesitation. You shoot her a look of ‘whatever you’re about to say, don’t’, and you hope she is wise enough to pick up on it.

“Why is that?” Kiara questions, confused.

“He got evicted.” Sarah blurts, regret spreading through her expression as she sees you react; you don’t react. And that slightly terrifies her.

“Really?” Pope asks in disbelief, though not too surprised. More so disappointed that his best friend had to endure this, silently at that.

“Yeah. When was the last time anyone’s heard from him?”

The group silently recollects for a few moments, Kie pulls out her phone to review her latest texts with the man in question.

Instead, you’re wondering how the hell Sarah even knew about this to begin with. How long could she know about this and just stay silent? Forget not telling the group, how long could she keep this from you? How could she not help her friend who was clearly in need of support?

“How long have you known?”

Sarah appears confused, wondering where your line of questioning is coming from.

“I- uh. After John B and I fought I went there, remember Y/n? I was hoping I could stay but he wasn’t home. That’s when I saw the eviction notice.”

“And you waited, I don’t know, a week to bring that up?”

“Y/n, it’s not like I intentionally kept this from you, okay? We know how protective you are over JJ.”

Her words strike a cord within you, already on edge regarding JJ Maybank because of your argument with him the day prior. It was still a sore subject, even more so made by having no one to confide in about it.

“It’s not about that, Sarah. You didn’t even have to tell anyone at all but you didn’t think to maybe find out if he’s okay? At the very least?”

“I was a bit homeless at the time, Y/n, sorry about that.”

“Oh, right. You were too busy hooking up with Topper to care about the well-being of our best friend? Good to know the bare minimum is impossible for you.”

Sarah scoffs, John B shakes his head in exasperation. Kiara stays silent mostly, being no stranger to your and Sarah’s sister-like fights. She couldn’t even disagree with you, though with her parents keeping her on lockdown it was hard to do anything about it. She wasn’t in a place to have an opinion.

Pope and Cleo shared looks, communicating wordlessly as they had grown to do. Being away at Heyward’s kept them out of the loop quite a bit.

“JJ will figure it out, Y/n. Relax.” John B reassured. Though he was defending his girlfriend, now that they were in a ‘good place’ again, you felt anything but reassured at his carelessness around the subject. You’d think of all of you, John B would understand the most.

“Relax? Why should I relax if JJ is in trouble? If anything, you’re too relaxed!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way but you don’t have to take it out on Sarah, this isn’t even her fault! Not all of us want to fight your battles.”

“If you had any sense left you’d realize this isn’t about me. This is about our friend, who I thought we all cared about. At least enough to share this kind of news. We’re talking about his well-being here, I mean he’s losing the house he grew up in and nobody seems to care about that?”

“If he wanted us to know, he’d tell us.”

“Like he’s ever going to do that! You know better than anyway that he won’t!”

“It’s not my problem.”

“Mhm. It’s a shame JJ’s busy solving all of yours.”

“Y/n, please. Can we just have a chill night?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his ‘best friend since the third grade?’ Because you don’t fucking act like it.” You huffed, standing up to get rid of your beer can. At this point you were rambling to yourself, more than okay with the group hearing what you really thought about them and their carelessness for the situation.

“Indeed. Which is why I don’t need to force him to tell me shit, okay?”

“Why are you such an asshole, John B?”

“Y/n, I just found my dad. So, excuse me if JJ’s living situation isn’t at the forefront of my mind.”

“I never said it had to be, but you’re acting like you don’t even care!”

“I do care! We all do!” John B shouts. “And maybe if you’d let up on him he’d actually come to you about this stuff!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying, maybe JJ would give you the love you so desperately crave if you weren’t fucking suffocating him.”

“John B!” Kiara warns.

Sarah held her face in her hands, knowing John B had crossed the line. Maybe he had one too many beers in his system. Either way, hell was about to break loose. And when it came to JJ, hell hath no fury like you did.

Your head felt like it was about to explode. How could your friends seem to be so comfortable with this? The same friends that claimed to leave no pogue behind, to never turn their back on one of their own.

If that was true, then what was this? From the looks of it, nobody even pretended to give a damn.

“You’re fucking terrible, John B. This isn’t even about me at all! You just can’t stop deflecting from what a shitty friend you are. I mean, JJ would die for literally every last one of you guys. And he almost did! On multiple occasions! But instead you’re gonna neglect the one person who's seen you through all your bullshit and as soon as it’s over you’re gonna pretend like nothing happened? Like the Earth is back on its axis? The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, John B. That’s just not- that’s not something you do to someone you love.”

There wasn’t a need to announce your departure, as it was so quiet inside that you could hear your own breathing.

As hard as it was to fight with John B like that, you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted off your chest. Your spirit was lighter. It was therapeutic, really. So therapeutic you felt peaceful enough to go home and take the longest nap ever recorded, maybe in John B’s own hammock just to prove a point.

Entranced in your own thoughts, you didn’t even register JJ resting in the hammock himself, hands intertwined behind his head. Not asleep, but wondering what your next words will be. The walls of the Chateau were thin enough, echoes of your voices amplified by the open windows.

He wasn’t sure if you simply didn’t notice his presence or if you were flat out ignoring him, walking past like he was invisible. Testing the waters, he called out from behind you.

“I never really thanked you for the smoothie.”

You froze in your tracks, face heating up and muscles tensing at the thought of the argument he probably just heard and decided not to barge in on.

“It’s alright. Wasn’t looking for praise.”

JJ met you halfway, taking note of your tired eyes and your feet dragging against the grass.

“So, what? You’re picking fights for me now?”

“You heard?”

“I think Ward Cameron heard. All the way from Guadalupe.”

“Stop it.” You warned, cracking a smile for a split second. JJ was good at that. Making you smile no matter the circumstances. “I stand up against injustice. That’s all.”

“Then are you still mad at me?”

“About what?”

“Yesterday. The whole… note on door situation.”

“Could never be mad at you, JJ. Especially not about that.”

He softly smiles, one that you return. It’s been a long time since you’d shared a small moment like this. Too long.

He gestures for you to come closer and slide into his arms as he’d held them out for you, just like you belong there.

“I am sorry, though.” JJ mumbles the words softly, almost into the crook of your neck as if he was speaking to you and you only. “I know you’re just trying to stick around for me.”

“Yeah. Just trying to be wherever you are.”

“You don’t have to fight for me, y’know.” I’m already here. Though you may not have caught on instantly, nothing he’s ever said has made as much sense.

“Sorry, J. Sometimes I just feel like we don’t deserve you. Like I don’t deserve you.” You admitted sheepishly.

JJ scoffs, and you’re not sure why. He’s often sarcastic, but it’s hard to tell what he’s really thinking in these situations.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/n?”

Your eyes meet his, hesitation behind them.

“You’re the one who doesn’t deserve me? Is that a joke?”

You looked at him as if it were obvious, like the line had already been drawn in the sand. This fact had already been decided; there was no going back, not now, and not ever.

“I know I’m not the smartest person, okay, but you’re making no sense.”

“Come again?” You asked, equally as confused as he was. It was incredulous for anyone to believe JJ of all people wasn’t worth it— as if he wasn’t worth someone who would go to the ends of the Earth for him, someone who would defend him six ways to Sunday. There was no one in your life more deserving of such a thing.

“Listen, Y/n...”

“No! You listen. Nobody should treat you like that. Especially our friends! As if their problems are bigger than yours or something. It’s just fucked up for any one of them to act like they don’t care because I know deep down, they do. They care just like I do but they just suck at showing it. Mostly John B. He sucks the most. And I’m not exempt either, I mean I should’ve checked on you sooner-”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” JJ interrupted, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Y/n, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

“I know that. I just want to love you. Because I really do. I really love you, JJ. Like bad. So bad that it’s probably sad at this point but I really don’t care anymore! Not about what John B has to say, not about anything, because I’ll never regret it. I’ll never wish that I didn’t love you.”

That stupid weight again, feeling as if it’s taking off like a rocketship and leaving your conscience for good. It makes you want to scream the words from the rooftops. Over and over and over again.

Confessing feels good, but kissing JJ feels damn euphoric. His lips are on yours before you can even register what’s happening, too busy being self-aware to realize the way his eyes turned glossy, or the way he’s gently got one hand on your waist and one hand caressing your cheek.

“He’s got it all wrong. I love you, too.” JJ confesses after pulling away from you, briefly taking his eyes off yours to glance at the Chateau. His head shakes as he says it, that starry glint in his eyes so undeniably present. “So bad.”

He earns a giggle out of you as he mocked your words to him just a few moments ago. But now, things were changing. He couldn’t stand before you and pretend he didn’t feel the way he did. Not anymore, not ever again.

Not after you’d shown your love for him so confidently to everybody, time and time again. JJ Maybank wasn’t sure about many things in life, but you weren’t one of them. This was surely the best decision he’d made in years.

“Come over.” You whine between kisses, breaking him out of his trance. If you let him, he’d kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

JJ raises his eyebrows, smirking.

“For dinner. We’re having sloppy joes.”

JJ, unresisting temptation, leans in again and moans against your lips dramatically. “What about dessert?”

You give his hair a tug and kiss the smirk off his face, whispering to him a secret.

“And maybe dessert.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl + jj maybank taglist: @destourtereaux

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watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore,  and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders. 

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe. 

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go. 

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre." 

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor. 

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes. 

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you. 

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.  

"Miss me?" 

"Dumb question," he mutters. 

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch. 

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man. 

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar. 

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be. 

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid. 

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed. 

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar. 

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek. 

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's. 

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums. 

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his. 

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games. 

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time. 

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you." 

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun." 

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly. 

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move. 

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him. 

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think. 

"Got any gossip for me yet?" 

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it. 

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face. 

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but  in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed. 

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway. 

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs. 

"Joel?" you call quietly. 

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late. 

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it. 

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark. 

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question. 

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute." 

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here. 

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs. 

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl. 

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together. 

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?" 

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks. 

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder. 

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here. 

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you. 

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy." 

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[navstuffs]

5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

Warning tags: SMUT SO NO MINORS, NSFW, porn with plot, car sex, roleplay of rideshare driver x passenger, ooc leon (he doesn't hit the car), masturbation (female), sex (p in v), public sex, creampie, image taken from google and edited by me

Author's Note: heeey, i had this on my draft sitting for so long and wrote this from 11 pm to 2 am, in a frenzy. i had so much fun writing, (not so much fun editing this picture let me tell ya), so i hope you enjoy it too!

my leon's masterlist

Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes. 

You blink at the message sent to your phone, confused. You had just finished a good walk in the park and could definitely walk back home, no biggie. The weather had been great, not too warm or humid. Your husband had other plans, clearly. You pinpoint your location to your driver, excitement growing inside of you.  

Not even four minutes later, the black Range Over enters the park's gates, and you start giggling. Before getting in the car, you must laugh as much as you need, you think. If your husband was doing this, he had an excellent reason.

The car stops by your side, and you open the backseat door. Inside, a handsome and familiar face looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leon?" You hold back a laugh, simply giving a timid smile. Leon asks your name, and you confirm. "Would you mind if I rode in the passenger seat, Sir?"

Leon mumbles an inaudible "Not at all." You know just calling Leon "Sir" has already affected him. You close the back door, open the passenger's and jump right in. Leon is wearing a black baseball cap over his golden locks, and you control another urge to not chuckle. To complete the look, he wears one of his tight black shirts (which makes his chest looks huge) and the black pants you love on him.

Leon is staying in character: it is weird he isn't smiling at your presence, but you are to be blamed for this. He is trying, and it is your fault.

You were the one who revealed, while drunk, how interesting it would be to get fucked in a car by a rideshare app driver if, of course, he was Leon. You knew it was a silly fantasy, but Leon considered it a great idea to surprise you at the right time. And the moment finally came, when you left the house ready for a walk, wearing a green shirt and those tight pants. 

"Is the AC okay, ma'am?" You are taken aback by how serious and smooth his voice sounds.

"Mhm, yes, thank you, Sir." But two could play into that game.

You can feel Leon staring at your gym pants, going up to your shirt and cleavage. You lied: the car was a little too cold, and your nipples, protected by your bra top, were starting to get hard, a fact that didn't pass unnoticed by your driver.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" Leon asks again, his blue eyes struggling to stay focused on the road. 

"Maybe a little," You admit.

Instead of raising the AC temperature, Leon places his warm leg in your upper leg. Surprised by the sudden touch, you don't move as Leon caresses slowly. 

"This help?" Leon murmurs, and you nod as his hand starts raising up slowly. "How do you plan on paying for this ride?"

"I have no cash on me. Or cards," You whisper, your body shaking with anticipation. Your eyes wander outside momentarily, not recognizing the empty road you are on and not even caring.

"I guess you will have to pay me in another way, then," Leon sounds decisive, a naughty smile playing on his lips.

"What other way, Sir?" You pretend to sound nervous, despite your body warming up. 

Leon answers by firmly pressing his thumb against your clit, as the rest of his hands grab the middle of your legs. Bastard, who knew your body so well by now. He rubs circles through the fabric, an approval hum coming from his chest.

"I think this could work."

You moan back a frail "Yes," spreading your legs open so Leon can have easier access. Your worries about him hitting the car don't even come to mind: you would trust Leon with your life. And the windows are tinted, so fuck it. Your head falls back against the seat as Leon continues with the lazy strokes.

"Touch yourself. Pull your top up."

You follow as told, pulling your shirt and top up until your collarbone. The cold wind from the AC makes you wince a little, the seatbelt scratching against your bare skin. You don't mind, your nipples so hard Leon licks his lips with desire. He also notices your chills, and suddenly you have your husband back.

"Do you want to raise the AC, sweetheart? I don't want you to get sick, and my hand is quite busy down here."

You nod, raising the temperature before going back on, pinching your nipples, a fire spreading in your veins. Typical of Leon getting worried about you getting sick like he doesn't have his hand in the middle of your legs.

"S-sir...Leon." You moan desperately, and Leon grunts an answer. You think he might pull over any minute now, but Leon continues driving, despite his attention flickering between you and the road. 

"Take your pants down. And your panties as well."

You take your gym pants down, together with your panties. When you place your feet into the seat, Leon momentarily loses control of the car, causing it to jolt to the left, but he quickly retakes control. You are going to be the death of him, spreading your legs like that, your body turned to him.

Fuck, Leon thinks. You look adorable, sexy, hot, spread like that, your pussy wet and ready for him. Your chest is rising up, and your face is heating up. He wants to stop the car and take you now, but Leon is committed to giving you what you want.

"Let-let me check" You hide a smile when Leon Kennedy stutters, but your smile disappears when your mouth turns into an "o" while he rubs his index finger, starting from your clit down to your entrance. He pulls in just the tip of his finger before pulling out.

Leon tastes his fingertip as if savoring it, making your stomach drop. You are so fucking glad you aren't driving this car, or you both would be dead by now.

"It should be enough as payment," Leon declares, not hiding his proud smile when he sees you even more embarrassed. He wanted to grab his phone and record it. Maybe next time, he thinks. 

Without wasting any more time, Leon shoves two fingers inside of you. Your head goes back against the seat and the window, the cold feeling good against your warm skin. He rocks his fingers slowly, admiring your pleasure expressions. 

"Look at the mess you are making on my seat," Leon says, smooth and proud. You look down, your wetness even more evident against the dark seat. Leon doesn't seem to care, pumping his fingers fast inside you. 

"Leon," You moan, desperate.

"I know, sweetie, I know." It is your Leon back again. You barely know how your husband is holding up, keeping you safe as your eyes glance at the hard cock between his legs. Your hand tries to approach it, but Leon shakes his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. Not if we want to live, Leon thinks. 

"It is about you now, okay? Be a good girl and touch yourself for me."

"O-okay." You sob. You take your fingers into your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, squeezing Leon's fingers even harder. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the knot on your belly. You are so close now.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

You hear the command and obey, your eyes focusing on Leon's blue ones. He shares the attention between the road and your eyes. He is sweating, his other hand holding the wheel with his fists white. You want to touch him so badly, it hurts. Leon is panting now, jerking his fingers fast inside of you, your movements in your clit following the speed. You moan his name over and over again, finally releasing the knot in your stomach. You cum, tears in the corner of your eyes, as your head falls back. Leon only stops when your whole body just relaxes against the seat. 

The car jolts when Leon finally pulls over and locks the car doors, but you barely seem to register a drunken smile on your lips. He pulls his fingers out, pulling them inside your mouth.

"This is my tip. Come on. Lick them clean."

You lazily lick his fingers back, still trying to catch your breath. When he considers them clean enough, Leon pulls his fingers out of his mouth, his eyes entirely focused on you and only you. Your Leon seems back, releasing you from your seatbelt to pull you into his lap. You can feel his dick against your ass as Leon rubs your back.

"You okay?"

"Mhmmmm. Where are we?" You ask drunkenly.

"I have no idea," He chuckles while you hide your face in his chest.

"That's why you didn't come in the walk with me, you were plotting, sneaky bastard."

Leon chuckles, letting you relax for a few moments. He looks outside the car for signs of human presence, but there is nothing, just trees. No other vehicle has even passed since Leon was driving on this road. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you don't want, of course, especially after how much energy you just used. You seem to understand, though, turning off the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Deciding for you. Come here."

You release Leon from his seatbelt, pulling him to the backseat. You finally kiss, Leon's body covering yours, his clothes reminding you he is too dressed.

"I probably won't last," Leon states apologetically. With his help, you undress him leaving Leon only with his black boxer briefs. Leon finally throws your bra and shirt far away. You want to argue those were your favorites, but he steals another hot kiss from you.

A car passes fast, illuminating Leon and your faces for a second before disappearing. It doesn't have to be an idiot to understand what is happening inside, especially with the now car's foggy windows. You pull his boxer briefs down, and his cock presses against your belly, causing you to chill. You lick your lips, adjusting your position in your backseat as Leon's forehead frowns.

"Hey. Don't worry about it: if it is the police, you can just show your badge and say it is a secret mission or something."

Leon chuckles, knowing you are probably right. He tries to say something, but you finally stroke his dick, just the tip, and Leon is trembling in your hands, his blue eyes glowing.

"Shit, sweetie, one second."

"We don't have much time, Leon." You argue, impatience. You wrap your legs around his waist with your back leaning against the window and the car seat. Leon stands kneeling in front of you, one of his hands at the window and the other holding the seat behind your head. 

Leon enters you slowly, causing you both to groan. Leon is much louder than you, and the car starts shaking as soon as he starts moving.

"Shit, you feel so good. You liked your driver that much?" Leon teases, his golden locks rubbing your face.

"5 stars. Ri-right there, baby," You answer, holding him close to you. Leon knew precisely where and how to poke you with the right intensity. You try to stay silent, focusing on the noises of your pussy and Leon's groans. As his thrusts become harder without you even needing to ask, another car in a different direction passes, this time much slower, his high beam on. Leon notices your worried expression, pulling your chin back to look at him, and biting your mouth.

"Let them hear. I want them to see you are mine. Come on." Leon changes the angle slightly, and you scream, squeezing his triceps. He is thrusting so hard you can hear the car groaning. You forget about the existence of other cars and everything else, focusing your eyes on Leon's.

"S-so close," You sob, and Leon takes his hand to rub your clit. It takes two strokes until your body arches from the seat, shaking. You moan incoherently, while you close your hands in Leon's arms, as a way to keep you from passing out. Leon soon follows you, biting your neck as he cums deep inside of you, jerking his hips until the very last drop.

You two remain breathless. Leon's hair is damp with sweat, and he looks a mess. You kiss his cheek, looking at Leon's arm flexing so he doesn't put his weight on top of you.

"Are they gone?" Leon barely registers what you are asking, finally remembering the other car from earlier. He has to pass his hand over the window to take the condensations, searching. It seems that they left.

"They are gone."

"Bring me up, Leon, please."

He nods and gently brings you to your lap, still deep inside you. You just need a moment to catch your breath. You rest against his shoulder again, a happy and small smile on your face.

"Well, this tops the cowboy experience."

Leon chuckles, relaxing his head against the seat. When he starts feeling sleepy, Leon lifts his head, finding you already napping.

"I have to drive away soon, sweetheart. Before you fall asleep completely, why don't you wear your shirt and pants, okay?" You murmur something inaudible, and Leon smiles. He finds your shirt under his seat and your pants in front of yours and helps you dress, you more asleep than awake. Next, Leon pulls his shirt on and his pants, swearing low when he does not find his briefs. Guess he is going commando, then. 

Leon leaves you half-lying in the backseat, placing your seatbelt before jumping back into the driver's seat. He gives you one good look, sleeping peacefully, before finding his cap on the floor and placing it on his head. It is time to take you home.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Four

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 2,588

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; I swear these chapters feel longer on the word doc. Anyways, I was too excited to leave it at just three chapters so here's an extra fourth one for today 🎉

Prev || Next

Masterlist

It's been a few weeks since you went to Snowcrest with Zayne. In that time, you played a few rounds of kitty cards with Xavier- not having the heart to bring Rafayel to the café since you knew he was afraid of cats, played the claw machine with Rafayel and took him to see the aurora in Snowcrest. You also got the painting Rafayel sent you and hung it up on the wall behind your couch, the fox plushie Xavier got you sitting on a miniature bookshelf underneath it. You put the pins got from the Meow's café tokens up on the bookshelf as well, a set of antique books you got from your original time period, a few antique gaming consoles like the Gamerboy and Ninyendo ds- it hurts to call those antique and your wallet definitely hurt after buying them. 

You got the Waystation NX as a way to pass the time besides when you were working. Honestly being a hunter paid well and once you got used to it, the work wasn't even that bad. 

Now, a few days before you assume your mission with Rafayel is, you decide it's time to get a friend. You were torn between a dog or a cat but since every single character loves cats besides Rafayel…you decide on a cat. You put on your yellow dress since all your other clothes were darker in tone and you didn't want to get cat hair all over them and head out after putting your shoes on. 

Stopping by Meow's Café first would be a good idea. Since they were a cat café then maybe some of their cats would be up for adoption and if not, you could always ask if an employee could point you in the direction of a shelter. 

Today was just a nice day to be on your own. 

At least that's what you thought but the moment you step foot in Meow's Café, you spot a few different things. Your gaze lingers on a white haired man that was sitting in the corner, cats all around him as he slept during the day but that wasn't Xavier. He seemed a bit familiar but you brush that feeling off and walk over to the actual Xavier. “What're you doing here without inviting me?” You tease with a playful pout. 

Xavier, who was dozing off, tiredly looks at you before a small smile appears on his lips. He yawns, covering his mouth with one hand. “I would've invited you if I knew you were awake.” “Don't worry about it.” You ruffle his hair before looking over all the cats. “I'm looking for a friend today.” 

“Are you talking about an actual person this time or another plushie?” 

“Neither. I'm looking for a pet.” You admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “I'm going to see if any of these cats are up for adoption and if not, I'll go look at some shelters nearby.” “Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, unable to hold back another yawn and you shake your head, “While I appreciate the offer, you should go home and take a nap. You look like you're about to pass out at any moment.” You pat his shoulder before heading to the counter to ask about the cats and order a drink. 

You settle on just a basic sweet tea and also buy some cat treats and the employee tells you that the cats here are sponsored by the local shelter but urges you to go to the shelter in person since the older cats are kept there. 

It would probably be better to get an older animal than a younger one since most people prefer the babies so you take her up on her offer. You take a sip of your tea, turning to wave goodbye to Xavier as you put the location of the shelter in your gps and start your walk. 

As you stand in front of the homey looking building, an employee peeks behind the gate. “Welcome to Paws animal sanctuary!” 

“Are you open today?” You ask, checking the time on your phone worriedly. “We just opened so we're cleaning up a bit but feel free to come inside! We had to open a tad earlier today since our sponsor stopped by.” The lady smiles at you and waits for you to follow as she walks toward the front doors. “Sponsor?” You echo, looking around at the interior as you step inside. Hardwood floors, cream wallpaper with different coloured paw prints- probably the paws of the actual inhabitants of the shelter. 

“Yeah, Mr S sponsors all of the shelters in Linkon City! It's thanks to him that we can take better care of our animals and give them the lives they deserve even if they're unable to be adopted.” The employee smiles before pausing, “oh my, I just realized I didn't tell you my name! That's so rude of me. My name is Raven.” 

“You're fine. I'm Y/n.” You smile back, holding your hands together. “I don't mind listening to you speak, you really seem to care about the animals you have here.” “We all do, it used to be so sad working at shelters in the past but now, oh- Mephi!” She laughs as a black bird flies over to land on her head. 

“Aww, she's a pretty bird. Is she a raven or…?” “She's a crow.” Raven says, letting the little bird perch on her finger. “She's actually mostly robotic since she got hurt in an accident. She was Mr S's pet before that but once Mephi got too injured, he surrendered her here and she's been living her best life ever since!” Raven scratches the crow under the chin before she heads behind the counter. “Anyway, What're you looking for today?” 

“Ah…I was looking for a cat? Possibly an older one or one who's been here for pretty long. My apartment has felt really lonely as of late and I feel like a pet would really help liven up the atmosphere and make me a bit happier.” You say, lightly drumming on the counter as Raven types in everything on a computer. “Perfect, we have about…four cats that match that! Well, we have five but..” 

“But what?” You lean forward, suddenly curious. 

“She's a bit of a handful. She's slightly younger than the rest and she's been returned multiple times. She's been here for about four years and she has a disability.” Raven says, running a hand through her hair. “Do you want me to add her to the walk through?”

“It wouldn't hurt to meet her. What's her name?” 

“Well…each home she's been to never gave her one so we've been calling her Estelle, you'll know when you see her.” Raven grabs her clipboard and leads you to the back with Mephi on her shoulder. You follow behind, looking at the window through each door as you pass before Raven stops at a room in the very back.

“This is Caesar, Spork, and Freya.” Raven says as she opens the door, pointing at the older orange cat that laid splayed out and the calico munchkin cat that was bopping the diluted calico ragdoll on the head. “Though Spork and Freya are a bonded pair so it would be hard to get just one.” She marks those two off of her list. “Where's…oh, there's Dino.” She crouches down on the floor. “Dino is the old tabby hiding under there. He's a bit nervous when it comes to new people.” 

None of the cats were catching your eye. Sure, they were definitely cute but none seemed to care about you specifically. 

“I guess you want to go see Estelle?” Raven questions after fixing her hair that Mephi was busy ratting up. “I think so, sorry.” You whisper your apology to the cats before you both leave the room. “Estelle is in a room by herself. She prefers to be alone and she's a bit moody.” Raven comments as you head to the next room a few doors down. “And here she is.” 

Raven opens the door and you both step inside. She quickly closes the door behind her as heavy paw steps thundered toward the door. An audible thump being heard as the cat hits the door. 

“Keep in mind, she's a runner.” Raven seems a bit out of breath. “We've had to chase her around the whole building before.” The woman steps to the side to reveal a large silver tabby mainecoon. “She's a mainecoon so she's a big cat and her coat is a rare colour. It's really uncommon to see a silver or gold maincoon.” 

The cat in question turns her head to look up at Raven before she notices someone else is in the room. The cat's fur bristles but she fully stops her movements the moment she made eye contact with you. A soft meow comes from her before she walks up to you and rubs against your leg. 

"Oh uhm-” Raven quickly flips through her clipboard, “She's never reacted like that before. I guess she likes you.”

You crouch down to run your fingers across her back. She sort of reminded you of Pie with her stature and how soft her fur was. “I'll take her.” You said, scratching her under her chin as she purrs. “I can pick up a body harness and walk her home. I think that's what she wants.” 

“Do you want to try picking her up as we head back to the front desk? Be careful she's heav-” Before Raven can finish her sentence, you've already picked the big cat up. “Nevermind.” Raven laughs, letting you follow her back to the front office. 

“So for Estelle, she gets a bit of a discount just because of her temperament and since you'll have to cover the cost of any more prosthetics she needs.” “Prosthetics?” You're suddenly confused and look at the cat in your arms. She didn't seem like she had any on. 

“Ah, Estelle was brought here with a really bad infection in her right front paw so they had to amputate. She only recently got a state of the art prosthetic with the help of Mr S. You can't even tell the difference and I think she's a lot happier with it.” Raven says, smiling at the cat in your arms who lets out a raspy meow. “But right so I'll add a harness, leash, and cat food to your bill and some vitamins for joint health and that'll be…”

She tells you the price and you gladly pay. You crouch down to put the purple body harness on Estelle and hook up the leash. The food and other stuff would be at your apartment before the end of the day. “Thank you for everything!” You wave to Raven and even Mephi caws as you leave. 

“Hey there pretty girl.” You say with a smile as Estelle looks up at you as you walk. 

With you being distracted, you don't notice a person walking next to you until you bump into your shoulder. You stumble back at the contact and quickly turn around in order to tell them off but a faint black and red smoke is the only thing left where the person should be. You hear the caw of a crow and look up, noticing a black crow perched on top of the light pole. 

“Weird..” you murmur, rubbing your temples and Estelle meows at you as if to tell you to keep walking. “Alright, alright.” You laugh, “I'm moving.” 

Once back at your apartment, you set Estelle's cat food bag down next to your island in the kitchen, putting her other canned food in the cabinets alongside her vitamins and some cat treats. Then, you hear a knock on your door. You head over to the door, Estelle trotting alongside you and she meows as the door opens. 

“Oh Xavier, what're you doing here?” You question, raising a brow but he holds up a bag. “I brought some stuff for the cat.” He says, a smile in his voice before he peeks around the door to see Estelle. “Woah.”

“Her name's Estelle.” You say, letting him in and taking the bag from him. “Estelle, you've got a bed now!” You cheer, going to put her bed in your bedroom. “Ooh and a food and water dish. Thanks Xavier, I didn't have a chance to pick anything like this up just yet.” You turn to look at him and he points at the bag, “One more thing.” 

You reach back in and there's a rod, you pull it out and notice it's one of those fishing rod cat toys but this one has a star at the end of the wire. “Here,” you hand it to him with a smile, “You came over here to play with the cat, didn't you?” 

“That wasn't my only reason.” He chuckles, sitting down on the couch as he plays with Estelle. “I wanted to hear about your plans going forward.” 

“Oh right.” You completely forgot about that. You sit down next to him, ready to explain. “I'm planning on getting some information from the Nest about an aether core being sold at the protocore auction in the N109 Zone. So I need an invitation for Hunting day. I'm…already working on getting an invitation but my problem lies with getting into the N109 Zone itself.” 

“You,” Xavier sighs, shaking his head, “You really are searching for trouble. I don't think you should go but I don't think anything I say will stop you..but since you have Estelle now, you at least have a reason to come back alive.” 

“Well, if I do die, take care of Estelle for me.” You joke with a smile but Xavier turns toward you with a straight face, “Don't joke about that, Y/n.” “Ah, sorry.” You clear your throat, looking down, “I am a bit nervous, if I'm honest but I know I'll be able to do it so if I go missing for a few days, make sure to feed her. I'll give you my spare key.” 

“I'll hold you to it.” Xavier takes the key from you and puts it in his pocket. “I'll figure something out if you go missing.” 

The mood wasn't as happy as before, that was clear to see so instead you nudge him with your elbow. “So at the shelter, they have this really cool sponsor who helped every single shelter in Linkon City. He had this pet crow that he surrendered because she got injured and he paid for Estelle's prosthetic.” 

“She has a prosthetic?” Xavier raises a brow, allowing you to push past the last conversation with ease. “Yeah, it's on her right paw.” You lean forward to tap said paw, your cheek brushing against Xavier's knee and he clears his throat. He shifts to the side on the couch to move his knee away from you. “Ah, I can see it now.” It's Xavier's turn now to lean forward and look. “That's really cool. It almost makes me want to get a cat.” 

“There's some really sweet ones at the shelter. Like Spork and Freya are a bonded pair!” “...Spork?” “Don't laugh, I think it's a cute name!” 

It's late by the time Xavier finally leaves to go back to his apartment, you say your goodbyes and get ready for bed with Estelle curled up next to you.

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

I guess 2k is the standard for every chapter so far. By the time chapter 10 hits, they should get longer so I hope you guys don't mind the shorter chapters for a bit! It's so odd though because on Google docs I feel like I'm writing so much and I need to end the chapter or else it'll be too long, and turns out...I've only written 2k- Edit: I just checked and they do get a bit longer but 3k and 4k aren't exactly at lot. If yall stick around until twenty then I'll make sure it's longer than 4k!! I feel so bad posting such short chapters.

Also, hope you enjoy the Sylus crumbs ✨️

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3

PART 1/6 - LAY OF THE LAND

CW: None for this chapter, just R18 mentions of sex.

WC: ~3k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin

A/n: I'm vaguely setting this in my home country of NZ, based on a campsite I frequent, for entirely selfish purposes but also because it's easy to describe a place you've been to a million times. Anyway, when I mention forests those are the kinds I mean, no fear of a rogue bear or mountain lion ✌️

You pulled into the quiet campsite in the middle of nowhere as you did every year around this time. Set between large mountainous hills covered in dense forest, and boasting a pool heated naturally by nearby geothermal activity, the site was a popular, bustling location in the on season. You, however, enjoyed the off season, when it was quiet, almost entirely abandoned save for the grounds keeper and his dog, and a handful of long term residents, living out their retirements in quiet bliss in the RVs that lined the very back of the campgrounds. You parked your humble car in front of the office that was built alongside a small shop, usually selling entry and icecreams to locals who came here for the pools, but also held a selection of basics such as toilet paper and cup noodles for campers in desperate need of a grocery trip.

The gravel that lined the carpark crunched underfoot as you made your way to the wooden ramp that led to the office and store building, the whole complex no bigger than a shipping container. The eggy smell of sulphur from the nearby geothermal activity filled your nostrils, unpleasant at first but a smell you'd quickly get accustomed to as you always did. A bell rang as you opened the door, the older woman assigned to mind the store today hurrying out from out back, you could hear the TV she'd been watching as she came out front. This time of the year customers were nil to none, so the counters relied on bells for service, usually unmanned otherwise. The chances of someone stealing from the store while it was unoccupied were slim, but you could assume they had a camera set up to watch from a screen out back anyway.

“[Y/n]!” The old woman exclaimed, taking her seat behind the desk, “I was happy to see you on our books this morning”

“Can't miss my mid-year vacay, Marg,” you replied with a smile, pulling out your wallet and leaning against the desk. You'd been coming here for years, and Margie had worked here for just as long. “What do I owe ya?”

“Minus the deposit you already paid, that'll be $65 sweetheart,” she smiled, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard at a snail pace as she worked on printing a receipt. You handed her the cash and the til made a clunk as the drawer popped open, Marg replacing your four twenty dollar notes with a five and a ten and handing them back to you. You slipped them back into your wallet and she handed you a keycard for the gate that kept pool visitors and strangers out of the campgrounds. Well, their cars anyway, they could absolutely just walk around it.

“Usual spot sweetheart, I'm sure you don't need a map,” she stood to return to her back room. She was definitely getting older, and standing was clearly more difficult for her than it had been in previous years. You'd be sad the year you came to camp and weren't greeted by her friendly face

You thanked her and made your exit, getting back into your car and making sure to roll down your window. You slowly made the short distance to the card receiver, leaning out your window a little to hold the card against it. A small light flashed green and the metal arm creaked as it began to raise. Your car was small, so you didn't have to wait for it to raise completely before you were passing underneath it and navigating the familiar gravel roads to your favourite spot. There were no additional parking spots at each spot, you were expected to either park on them or leave your car in front of the office, so you pulled onto the grass alongside the road between the brick lines that marked the boundary of your spot.

Your usual spot was close to the middle of the grounds, directly across from the communal kitchen building, and just a thirty second walk from the main toilet and shower block. There were other, smaller toilet blocks scattered around the grounds, but this was the only one that featured showers and laundry. The kitchen building was also just a nice place to hang out, having a semi covered outdoor area framed by benches, one of the only places other than your own rented spot where you were allowed to drink alcohol, so it was a great place to meet other campers. At first glance, anyone would think a lone woman coming to a campground on the off season was here for peace and quiet. On the contrary, you found during the busy season there were usually far too many large families and happy couples. The off season was for singles, and you were here for one thing and one thing only: sex with strangers.

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you were here to spend time alone, always turning down offers from friends to join you. At first, that had been the case. A spontaneous camping trip in the middle of the year to cool down after a particularly stressful project at work finally wrapped up. But you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger. The campsite being so empty also made for additional excitement, after many years here you'd had sex in or on most of the campground's amenities. The kitchen, the pool, the showers, on top of a laundry machine. It was an excitement you struggled to find in the big city you came from, without wasting money on a hotel room there was no good way to have sex with a stranger without being caught and without them knowing where you lived and getting attached, because like hell were you going to a strange man's house on your own.

You quickly set about working on your tent, pulling item after item from the back of your car and setting up with well practised speed. Soon you were closing the car boot and admiring your work. A decently sized, two chambered tent - the first chamber holding your cooler and a small fold down table for prepping a quick snack at night. The kitchens had multiple large fridges available for use, but you liked to keep your beer and soda in an ice bath in your tent for easy access. Every morning and evening you would go to the small camp store and buy a bag of ice, but for now the cooler was empty. The second chamber was larger and held most of your belongings, as well as a queen sized, double layered, inflatable mattress, already set with comfortable bedding. You even had a small fold down side table and camping lamp, which had a handle for late night toilet visits, and you'd run an extension cable from the site provided power you'd paid extra for, to your side table, so you could charge your phone and laptop from the bed. There was no internet here, and barely any phone signal, but you'd downloaded plenty of movies, tv shows and e-books before leaving home, as well as bringing a handful of actual novels, a switch console and drawing supplies. You weren't a fantastic artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a hobby you enjoyed and liked to practise anyway.

Outside your tent you'd also set up a small gazebo, after your first few years you'd gotten sick of being trapped inside the tent whenever it rained, and it also provided shelter for a large trestle table and tabletop barbecue so you could grill regardless of the rain. There were also a few collapsible chairs under the gazebo, a larger reclining one where you spent most of your time, and a smaller more basic one in case you had a guest. Aka another camper you intended to, or hand already fucked.

Satisfied with your setup, you took a quick break to check your phone and let your friends know you'd made it safe and sound, before climbing back in your car and heading to the grocery store in the small nearby town. The town was about a twenty minute drive away, a small oceanside tourist town that was mostly a pass through for those heading to a nearby famous beach, or to board boats or small privately run helicopters for whale and dolphin watching. You'd never bothered with the tourist traps, but you had once or twice hit the beach when you'd come during the on season with friends.

Thriving on local tourism, the town was humble compared to the city you'd come from, but large enough to have two supermarkets and a decent size home goods store, as well as a long stretch of boutiques and cafes. You head to your favourite supermarket, pulling into the half full car park and heading inside. You pulled up your list on your phone as you approached the doors, grabbing a trolley and setting about your shopping. Food for several days, beer, condoms, all very important. A novel that caught your eye, some trashy magazines, snacks for late night movies. A comically large cucumber caught your eye, and you snapped a pic to send to your friends with the caption ‘finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦’

Everything on your list gathered, you headed for the checkouts. A big, noisy, red ute pulled into the carpark as you started loading your groceries into the reusable totes you kept in the back of your car. It parked nearby and four fucking massive men jumped out, shoving each other and laughing boisterously. Definitely not locals by the looks of it, the back of the ute loaded up with what looked like camping equipment, tied down with straps and a piece of blue tarpaulin that didn't cover everything. You wondered if they'd be staying at the same grounds as you, it was the most well known in the area given its pool that was free use for the campers and the nearby hiking trail that offered incredible views of the entire area all the way out to the ocean. You licked your lips at their beefy builds, a girl could certainly dream, any of them would make a fine target for your sexual escapades.

The red haired one among them wolf whistled as he passed by, as you bent over the boot of your car to reach an extra tote that had fallen under a seat. You turned back to him, a hand on your hip, and winked playfully. He blushed, clearly not having expected that reaction, and his friends whooped and smacked him playfully. The group followed behind the redhead who was fleeing as fast as he could, and you continued packing away your groceries and returned your trolley before heading back to camp.

When you got back you unpacked everything, putting your chillables in the provided fridges, your name written in clear black marker over each package, and filled your cooler with the bag of ice you'd grabbed from the camp store on your way in before putting your beer and soda in to chill. The food that didn't need refrigeration was stored in your tent in a small latchable plastic box to keep any rodents away. All done with your chores, you ate a quick lunch of some pre-made food you'd grabbed at the supermarket, and decided to hit up the pool.

You made your way back up the gravel path from the pool, slide on sandals on your feet and a towel wrapped around your body. You were still in your bikini, your wet hair sending droplets of fresh water from the rinsing shower down your body. You watched a bird native to the area fly overhead before the sound of boisterous laughter caught your attention. Usually, at this time of the year, campsite guests would pick locations far away from each other, most people came here this time of the year to be alone. The grounds were arranged in blocks, each block holding ten or twelve sites, split with half to one road and half to another. There were a good amount of blocks, the grounds could probably accommodate a good couple hundred people at its peak, though right now you could only see three other tents far from yours.

You could hear the group before you spotted their red ute, the same one from the grocery store, obscured by your own setup until you got closer. They'd rented what looked like multiple sites right next to yours. Usually, you would be annoyed, but being that they were all so delicious you were delighted. This was going to be a successful holiday indeed.

The group was made up of four large men. There was the redhead who had whistled at you, he looked to be the youngest of the group, as wide as he was tall with a thick scar that ran down his face, giving him a natural bad boy appearance. He was soft looking, but in a strong, could definitely throw you over his shoulder sort of way, like a boxer. You noticed now that he was missing his left arm, it must have been facing away from you at the store. He wore eyeliner, which you noticed now they all did, along with a vibrant red lipstick that matched his hair. He looked very punk in dark ripped jeans and a leather vest he wore open, showing the scar that ran over his torso, along with a big fuck-off belt buckle and multiple silver chains hanging from his belt. The nails on his one hand were painted a darker red, and he had a black fabric headband holding back his wild hair.

Next was the shortest of the group, though certainly not short by normal standards. Dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans, his impressive blond hair went all the way to his hips. His sharp featured face was partially obscured by messy straight bangs and a fluffy goatee, his lips painted purple as he flashed a bright toothy smile at the redhead.

The other two both dressed in a punk aesthetic much like the redhead, two slightly older men with impressive heights, one of them towering above all four of them. The shorter man had pale blue hair set in dreads, his face covered in unusual scars and thorn like tattoos wrapping around his neck and down his arms. The taller hid his hair under a black hoodie, but you could see pointed sideburns peeking out under them. He looked deliciously muscular under the tight netting shirt he wore.

The four of them were going about their setup, four separate single chamber tents laid out on the ground to sort their positions while the blond and tall one carried an excessive amount of grocery bags to the shared kitchen. It was just as well there was hardly anyone at the camp, they'd need a whole fridge on their own with that much food. Deciding to make your intentions clear as soon as possible, you laid a towel over your reclining chair and grabbed a beer, relaxing in your bikini that showed off your fit body. The redhead was quick to notice, and you tilted your sunglasses to wink at him. He realised why he recognized you and you heard him swear and scurry away. Cute.

You watched their entire setup process hungrily, watching their muscles flex as they unloaded the ute and set things in place. The redhead was no help with the tents, so he worked on setting up smaller things like their large barbecue and chairs while the other three got the tents erected. You couldn't help but notice that they hadn't brought a gazebo, they must be newbies. Hopefully the weather would be fine for however long they were staying, you hoped for more than one day, and given the amount of food they had you would guess at least three.

All of them eventually took notice of you, catching sly glances where they could. The blond one seemed the most confident, openly flexing and showing off, flashing you wide grins that you eagerly returned. Oh you would definitely be climbing that tree. The redhead continued to act shy, doing things that were clearly to show of his strength but refusing to meet your eye. The bluenette gave you kind looking smiles, and the tall one looked at you with suspicion, which you always responded to by changing which leg was crossed over the other, giving him a full view of your barely clothed centre. It didn't seem to phase him though, curious.

Your phone pinged at some point and you checked it, starting a conversation with your bestie about your current view. She was the only person who knew the real reason you took these holidays. You snapped a quick, sneaky pic of the four men as they set up.

You: [one attachment] You: finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦 Bestie: LMAO finally a man that can satisfy You: might have found a few more of those Bestie: yeah? Good huntin? 👀 You: new neighbours You: [one attachment] Bestie: fuck me Bestie: or rather, fuck you, hopefully You: the blond one is giving me eyes for sure Bestie: yeah? You layin down that charm girlie You: lets just say i just got back from the pool, and im enjoying a nice beer on my recliner 👙 Bestie: yes queen! Give them a good look at that meal, they're gonna be eatin you up in no time! You: fingers crossed 🤞 you know im in dire need of a good fuck, heres hoping they're not all just a gay polycule, that'd be just my luck Bestie: well it sounds like at least the blond is dtf You: hes got a cute ass smile, cant wait to ride it 🤠 Bestie: girl you are nasty! 😂 Go get that dick queen 🍆 ttyl, ily! You: luv u!

You put down your phone and finished your beer, deciding you'd laid around for long enough and it was probably time to get started on dinner. It was already late in the day, if you were going to attract any of the boys it likely wouldn't be today, you needed the novelty of camping to wear off for them before they came sniffing around for more excitement. Not to mention you were tired from driving all morning and setting up. You pulled a few things from the kitchen, carrying them back on one of your plastic camping plates, and grilled yourself a steak while you scooped a few premade deli salads onto your plate. You enjoyed your meal while reading your new book, noting the smell of meat in the air and the sounds of sizzling and beer cans opening nearby as your neighbours settled in for their own dinner.

When it got too dark to read you took your dishes to the kitchen to wash them, grabbed your toiletries from your tent, and took a quick shower. The weather was warm enough to make the short walk in your nightie, so you strutted back to your tent with your legs and cleavage on proud display, your nipples pert under the satin night dress which was trimmed with thick lace, hanging from your shoulders by delicate spaghetti straps. You'd never have walked around in public like this if you had neighbours you weren't trying to fuck, but you were more than happy for the boys to look at you, and look they did. You gave them a short wave before you entered your tent, grabbing a new beer and your laptop and settling in to watch a movie.

[NEXT PART]

[pinkeoni]

This moment keeps me up at night—

because it doesn’t align with what we’re being told the entire season.

The point that they tell us explicitly in the dialogue in season one is that Joyce was right about everything.

She wasn’t hallucinating, she wasn’t out of her mind, she was right.

So then, if Joyce was right about everything, if she wasn’t just hallucinating Will in a bout of hysteria, why then choose to show us a clear example where she is hallucinating Will?

Unless she wasn’t.

I will admit that there is a chance that this is just a dream or a hallucination. Joyce is very sleep deprived and was just told that her son had died. I wouldn’t put it past her to have dream visions of her newly dead son. The scene is also presented as if this is the case, with Joyce shown sleeping before seeing Will and then sharply waking up after the fact.

So okay, case closed, maybe it’s looking like this really is just a dream situation after all 😂 but I wanna just entertain the harmless idea that maybe the audience is being mislead with the dream allegations.

So the scene above actually happens right after we get the first confirmation that Will is still alive, when El is able to find him singing over the radio.

So we learn that Will is still alive at the top of the episode, the title sequence plays, and then we get a scene where Will appears right in front of Joyce. The sequence of events should be enough to at least raise an eyebrow.

At the end of the episode, Joyce recieves the verification for herself when Will is able to make contact with her. I want to point out that Will is able to do so while screaming for his mom, exactly the same thing that “dream” Will was doing.

So what do I think? That Will was actually physically in the Rightside Up? That he some how got through and then decided to go back in?

Well, no, not exactly, but he could have been doing some form of shadow walking— or his consciousness travelling to the other plane.

Of course since I’m a Will has powers truther I think that his powers are at play here. Shadow walking is brought up by Dustin in the subsequent episode—

And we see this very type of thing in season two with Will’s true sight.

Was Will just seeing into the Upside Down? Or was there a projection of himself that was physically in the UD? I’m going to say in the latter option, considering that the Mind Flayer was able to physically enter Will’s body during one of these true sight episodes.

Bringing it back to the scene at the very beginning of the post, I’d like to propose that this is what Will was doing, using his powers to shadow walk into the RU from the UD.

I don’t think Will waa be aware that he was using his powers. He was thrown into a high stakes situation, scared, and desperately wanted to get back to his mom and his powers were running amuck without him consciously knowing. This instance of him shadow walking to reach his mom is similar to what happens with the lights, his powers are activating as a way to reach his mom. It’s also implicated through dialogue that the thing with the lights is because of Will.

It would make total sense for his powers to activate in this way, even if he wasn’t conscious it was powers, based on how we know powers work in the show. It’s when El remembers the strong love that her mother feels for her that she is able to unlock her ability to open gates, a unique power that El herself probably didn’t even know she had.

So all of this being said, while made to be believable that Joyce was just dreaming, there’s still enough evidence to suggest that this image of Will was a manifestation of his powers.

Think about it this way, if you wanted Will having powers to be a twist, then you would want to write it in a way where the hints are all there, but there’s enough room to believe that the opposite is also true, so you aren’t playing all of your cards all at once. If Joyce was undoubtedly awake and seeing a vision of Will, that would be way too obvious right off the bat.

[tealfling]

Circuit of Devotion

🛎️🛎️ @kimberbohwrites 🛎️🛎️🍽️ Order Up!

A/n: I wrote this for Kimerbohwrites by request based on this headcanon of mine.

Rolan x Coren (my tiefling Storm Sorc F!Tav)

Wc: 3,600

 It's stupid in love fluff, so no warning I think. well except bad grammar

⚠️NOW ON A03⚠️

 

 Rubbing the back of his neck Dammon hummed, considering everything he could have at his disposal. Dammon mentally listed every artisan and guild trader he'd met in the Gate. His eyes roamed his shop interior and landed on a canvas covering an old bucket. He had never found a use for the material inside, but maybe…

     "I have this," he said, ripping back the canvas and disturbing the dust. Both tiefling men shooed the dust from their face. Rolan waved hishand, magically cleansed the air so as not to cough. He peered down into the pail. There was some arcane essence emitting from the dark, speckled ore before him.

"And this is?" Rolan asked, arching a brow, not entirely sure what he was looking at.

     "Currently? Junk. These pieces are too small to forge into any worthwhile weapon or armor." Dammon held up his hand as Rolan's face began to sneer at the word junk. "But, it is Adamantine and I think it could serve our purpose. She traded this to me and I just never had the heart to get rid of it."

     Rolan regarded the chunks of highly rare, highly enchantable ore. Of course she’d somehow managed to come across such rare material. He considered everything he knew of Adamantine, its history, and innate properties. His head nodded as the possibilities revealed themselves, it wouldn't be easy, and would require their highest skills, but they could do it.

     "This could work," Rolan said, more as encouragement to himself than anything else. The tieflings shared a grin. Dammon couldn't contain his excitement at the challenge before him and it manifested in a subtle wag of his tail. It was going to be perfect.

A Few Months Later

     Coren nuzzled her cheek into Rolan's arm with a delightful sigh. The sun was low. Offshore a dark storm threatened to overtake the sunset. The breeze carried a chill signifying the changing of the season. The cobblestone streets heading towards Sorcerous Sundries were emptying for the day as they strolled leisurely back home. Coren looked back up at Rolan with another contented sigh. Home. Something, someone, she'd never had before. She couldn't help but squeeze his arm. 

     "Thank you for today. That place was delicious." Soft adoration plastered her face while she spoke to the man she loved.

     "I'm glad you liked it." Rolan replied with an equally smitten smile. "Getting on the guest list was nearly impossible. I hear it's currently a three ten-day waitlist." A meager hint of smugness to his tone. He readjusted the garment bag in his arm so that he could bring his hand up to place on hers.

     Coren paused with a giggle, "Oh, love, did you pull the 'Master of Ramazith's Tower' card? For me?" Her voice was riddled with teasing affection and a fiendly smile.

     "I did no such thing." Rolan drawled. "I didn't need to,” he admitted. “When asked what names to put down, the moment your name left my lips, suddenly a spot at the very top of the list became available. Apparently," he continued raising a brow, "you saved the owner's niece from absconding with a vampire in the sewers, the chef's brother from a cultist, and it seems the kitchen fire elemental is very close with a mud mephit and earth elemental couple you once met at a circus." He stopped to spin the woman on his arm to face him. "Tell me, how is it you're not exhausted from being so phenomenal constantly?" He questioned bluffing exasperation. "Also, you must share your secrets for accomplishing so many miraculous feats in such little time." Gentler than his playful tone, he used the back of his hand to push one of her white streaks of her hair back behind her ear tip. She shivered, leaning into his touch, with a contented hug. Enjoying his warmth and the warmth that seemed to spread through her very being when he was near.

     The blue sorceress stepped onto the air, using it to raise up until she floated to meet his eye level. Coren slid her hands up Rolan's jaw with a hum, "I suppose at the time, my two main motivations were ridding my brain of the Illithid tadpole trying to consume it and," Her blue eyes flitted to his lips, "getting my favorite wizard to admit he wanted kiss me." She smiled, "It makes it easier to push through a difficult time with a reward oriented goal in mind." Her nose crinkled playfully.

     "Well," Rolan's breath ghosted her lips, "you always were an overachiever." He slid his arms around the small of her back, drawing her close. Locking his gentle, yellow starburst eyes with her icy ones he smirked "And greedy. You never seem to have enough, but it is a price I am most enthusiastic to pay-" he leaned his forehead to hers, "even if it didn't secure the safety of the Sword Coast."

     Their lips met. Smiles pressed warmly. A soft gentle kiss. Heart fluttering so. If he weren't holding her, she felt as if she could float away. Very reluctantly, Coren pulled back first. Her instinct ever to seek more passion, to press forward with an inherent need to physically show the love that bubbled within her. To reassure him of her steadfast feelings. Still, she withdrew while she had the remaining wherewithal to remember they were in a public street and Rolan was publicly shy about intimacy. Though she did enjoy the little chase his lips gave hers seeking more.

     As if to prove her point, the bell of a shop door opened then closed, and hasty boot steps grew closer. Coren lowered herself back to the ground and Rolan pulled back straightening his shoulders then drew his hands to smooth out his coat. Respectable in appearance once again. He looked so handsome with his longer hair pulled back. It would almost be a shame to dishevel him later.

     The approaching footsteps finally drew the lover's attention away from each other long enough for Coren to immediately recognize her favorite tangerine tiefling blacksmith rushing in their direction, donning a coat.

     "Dammon!" She waved. The three tieflings greeted each other. It was odd to see the blacksmith out at this hour. He was usually still wielding his hammer at his forge into the early evening. Instead his hands held a fine looking wooden box. "Did you close the forge early?" Coren asked, tilting her head inspecting the box.

     Turning to look over his shoulder, almost like Dammon was checking that he did indeed close the forge properly. Satisfied that it didn't slip his mind, he turned back to the mages before him. "Oh, yeah. I'm trying to catch Lakrissa at the Elfsong." He lifted the box at the other woman's name. It was a simple rectangular box, but expertly crafted to showcase the red wood's natural beauty.

     Coren's eyes went wide, "Is that for tomorrow?!" Her tail flitted around in excitement.

     "Sure is," Dammon smiled sheepishly. He leaned in as if he were about to whisper a delicate secret. "Would you like a peek?"

     She almost missed it. The way Dammon's blue hazel gold eyes flicked back over her shoulder up to Rolan. That was- odd. Something had just been shared between them that she was not privy to. She turned up to Rolan. His face gave nothing away. He just gently looked at her and nodded encouragingly toward Dammon's box. Coren nodded, the curiosity overwhelming her moment of suspicion.

     The lid creaked open. Two daintily crafted rings of golden rose metal and pink gems lay on a bed of velvet. A pair of larger, finely detailed companion horn bands, completed the set perfectly. Gazing at them felt like hearing a love song. Coren could almost hear Alfira's singing dancing around her heart. These were perfect, like the love they represented.

     "You made these, Dammon?" Coren gasped, hovering a hand over the rings as if to touch them, but worrying they were so delicate that she might break them.

     Dammon cringed, "Ouch. You don't have to act so surprised."

     "That's not what I meant and you know it." Coren pouted, narrowing her eyes. Behind her she could hear Rolan stifle a chuckle in his throat and batted his calf with her tail. He immediately caught her tail with his own and the two intertwined like a tether.

     Distantly thunder boomed and Dammon snapped the box shut. "I'd better get going. Lakrissa will kill me if this box gets ruined." He nervously slid the box inside his coat.

     Coren giggled, "We wouldn't want that."

     Rolan re-laced his arm through Coren's, "We'd better be going, too. Good day, Dammon."

     "See you at the wedding tomorrow. Tell Lakrissa I'll make sure this storm's past. She can expect gorgeous weather for two gorgeous brides!" Coren said, waving her friend off as he sprinted down the street.

     Sorcerous Sundries was still more than a block away. And with the sky darkening quickly, they knew they'd need to use the portals there as they'd never make it to the tower on foot. 

     Coren's smile, however, could not have been brighter as she returned home with Rolan. He looked down at Coren, a wealth of warmth spreading through his chest. "What's got you all smiles?"

    "I'm just so happy. For us. For everyone. Everything is perfect. Everyone is safe. We're together. Cal and Lia are doing great. You're the most admired wizard south of Waterdeep." Rolan scoffed at her playful jab, as she continued, "Dammon's smithing is doing well. Bex and Danis just had a baby, not to mention the success of their bakery. And Alfria and Lakrissa are finally getting married. When we all met our lives were kinda, well, shit shows. But look how far we've come," Coren was beaming, truly proud of them all. "Even Mattis and Mirkon are keeping out of trouble. I can't believe how good this feels. To have friends. To be with you." She glided up to place a kiss on Rolan's cheek. Thunder clapped over head.

    "Do you think we'll make it?" Rolan peered up assessing the sky.

    "No. I can feel it under my skin. It's too close." Coren tugged herself closer. "You're not afraid of a little rain now are you?"

    Rolan huffed playfully. "Of course not. I just don't want to get our nice clothes wet. Or ruin your dress for tomorrow." He said lifting the bag in his other hand.

    Coren produced a pout. "I'm not sure if I should take offense to that or not. You know I wouldn't let you get wet if you don't want to. I'll always be here to protect you, my love, especially from the Big Bad Evil Rain Storm."

    "As it should be, my dear," he smiled warmly, pressing his lips softly to her forehead between her horns. "But that's not the point and you know it." He held out his hand. "Let me Dimension Door us to the Tower."

    "Fine." She exaggerated a sigh, but tangled her fingers with his all the same. "But you know how much I like the rain. That first wave always makes me feel so powerful," she pouted over exaggerating her pillowy bottom lip.

    Rolan pulled her close, resting his forehead on her's and wrapping his other arm around her back. A mischievous grin pulled at his mouth as he whispered, "In that case, my dear, let me see what I can do." He lifted her up into a kiss, but this time she pulled herself closer deepening the kiss as they disappeared from the street in an arcane flash.

    Rain softly pelted the tower windows. Coren lightly skipped over the sopping wet clothes passionately thrown across the bedroom floor after being ripped from heated bodies. That was future Coren's problem. She slid into bed, handing Rolan a fresh glass of water, and seated herself beside him. Coren took a bite of leftover strawberry lemon cake she'd gathered as Rolan gulped down his drink.

     "So," she continued, dusting the crumbs off Rolan's shirt that hung loosely over her smaller frame. "What was that weird look between you and Dammon earlier?" she asked, chewing another bite of sour sweet cake.

    "What look?" Rolan asked, not hiding the small awkward cough of water as well as he thought.

    Swallowing her snack, Coren continued, "Dammon gave you a look when we met up earlier. Like you knew something I didn't. So, 'fess up."

   "As I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, there is nothing to ‘fess up.’"

She studied him for a moment. He held her gaze with his sunny sunflower eyes, but Coren sensed he was holding something back.

   "No, there was definitely something weird between you two when Dammon wanted to show me the wedding rings." Rolan readjusted himself, placing his glass on his nightstand. “And since we’ve been together over a year, I think I know when you’re trying to hide something from me.”

  “Oh, do you now?”

   “Yes, so what has you all cagey about Alfira’s rings? Why would you and Dammon- '' A thought struck her at that moment. “Unless,” she started, more to herself than him. A flutter of excitement stirred in her stomach. “Unless there are other rings you two talk about. Are you going to ask Dammon to make rings?” Her tail curled behind her and she threw her weight forward on her arms invading his space. 

   Rolan’s neck tensed, he averted his gaze, and scoffed. “I don’t need to ask him to make anything. It’s already made.”

   Coren bounced back on her thighs, “You had rings made for us?! Let me see!” Her tail thumped behind her and her voice burst little too loud.

   “No. I had a ring made. Your ring. One. And I know the second you see it you’re going to put it on.” Coren shook her head in agreement. That’s exactly what she would do. Without a doubt. Rolan sighed, “I just haven’t found the right time to ask. I wanted the moment to be as perfect as you are.”

   Coren almost groaned, “If that’s what you’re waiting for, then I’ll never see it. Just a little peek. Please.” She purred, leaning forward, “You know I never beg. Pretty please.” Her tail swished behind her.

   Pinching the bridge of his nose Rolan relented. “Fine. No use keeping it from you now. But, just one look.” 

   Coren was vibrating with her giddiness. He knew now that she was aware of its existence, Coren would certainly spend every unsupervised moment tearing the tower apart in search of it. Might as well save himself the trouble of cleaning up the destruction in her wake. Rolan leaned over, opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out nothing. Clutching an empty hand he muttered a dispelling incantation. A beautiful purpleheart wooden box was revealed in his hand. 

   Coren gaped, “It was there the whole time!?”

   “Easily concealed from the wandering eyes of a sorceress by a simple Invisibility charm.” Rolan bragged as Coren pouted, protruding her plush bottom lip, and grumbling about wishing she’d taken Volo’s eye. She thumped her tail behind her. Rolan eased the box open, revealing a single stone dark metal band.

   Springing forward, Coren snatched the ring from its box and held it up to her face closely examining it. It was a simple ring, but Coren didn't mind. There was something familiar about the cold dark blue-grey metal that she couldn't quite place. The band itself was almost plain looking except for a few faint runes Coren could feel, but not really make out. She'd never seen anything like the dark center stone before, but she could sense it tugging at the magic within her. 

   Drawn in by the stone, Coren hadn't realized she had lined it up with her finger ready to slip it on until Rolan grabbed her hand.

   “Wait,” he paused, sliding the ring out her hand. "You must be sure before you put it on." 

    "Why? Is it cursed?” Coren smirked. “Did you make me a cursed ring I could never take off?" she quipped.

    Immediately Rolan rebutted, "Of course not. But you would be the one to wear a cursed item without a second thought."

    Coren leaned in to tease. "Did you curse it so that I would never leave you? Because you were already cursed with that the moment I survived the Absolute."

     "Is that so?" Rolan chuckled, a soft grin pulling up to one side. "No, it's not cursed, but it is heavily enchanted,” he stated. “Everything from the Adamantine metal to the gems, Astral Shard, and engravings were all meticulously selected for their specific arcane properties,” he explained, turning the ring over in his fingers as he did. “I wanted something that would not only look beautiful, but enhance the natural abilities of its talented wearer.” He looked at her with a cheeky smile before his brows knit together. “It will immediately attune to you once you put it on, so you must be sure.” With a wistful sigh he continued, “I only wish I could have come up with a worthy way to ask you to wear it.” 

    Coren arched her brow and smiled softly trying to lighten the mood, “Like, what, getting down one knee in front of the Baulderan fountain? That guy’s an asshole.”

    “Ha, it had been a thought.” Rolan admitted. “I wasn't sure if it would be better to ask in the traditional Baulderian manner, or if one of the many tiefling customs would have been more appropriate. I-"

    Coren slid her hand over Rolan's, "Darling, you're overthinking this. My answer would be the same regardless of the way it's done. Do what feels right for you. Don't hold yourself to the standards of others- we know they fall short of your greatness anyway.” She smirked trying to boost his ego a little before continuing, “Alfria proposed to Lakrissa in song because that's what bards do. Do what feels comfortable to you. I can't answer a question I'm never asked, but don’t doubt yourself. Because- I hope you know- there’s no doubt about my answer.” Coren's words were earnest before she looked down in his hand, “I am still going to put the ring on though."

    "Wait!" Rolan said, adjusting to his knees. "One moment." His eyes frantically darted around nothing as he worked through a thought in his head. Rolan lifted his hands drawing purple arcane sigils, whispering an incantation under his breath.

    The bedroom around them slowly disappeared into darkness. A deep, unnatural, pitch-filled darkness. It almost reminded Coren of the imposed darkness of the Shadows Curse, but there was no impression of evil. A sense of ease fell as Rolan's magic settled through the room like a warm blanket. The arcane nature of the spell almost made it difficult to see even as Coren strained her dark vision to make out the outline of the man in front of her. There was stillness for a moment while she felt the arcane energy in the room shift as another spell was cast in the darkness.

    "Coren," Rolan breathed gently, grazing his fingers along her own until he held her hand in his. The moment he spoke movement in her peripheral drew her attention away from the direction of his voice.

    Across the room deep in the darkness, a tiny mote of golden light flickered like a firefly.

    "My beautiful storm. My peaceful center." Another slightly bigger green light appeared. Then a blue, and a purple. A colorful assortment of lights began to spark into life around them as Rolan spoke. "Since the moment I met you, I have called you many things. There were a few I– admittedly–regret, but the rest, you, have brought me so much joy."

    The chromatic oscillation surrounding them was memorizing. Like standing in a field of dancing technicolor fireflies. Try as she might to focus on Rolan, Coren couldn't help but look around in wonder. The stars themselves didn't sparkle as bright. She recalled this enchanting feeling forming in her chest. The way her heart skipped a beat in her camp by the Grove while she watched Rolan perform for his siblings. A precursor to the magnificence engulfing her now. The longing for people that cared for her like this little family clearly cared for each other. It was breathtaking.

    With a gentle squeeze to her hand, Rolan brought her back to him, he held the dark metal band over her finger. "Would you please allow me the long overdue honor of calling you my wife?" He whispered, sliding the ring onto her finger.

    Bright, electric blue light crackled around the metal of the band, followed by a softer icey blue feathering. The interior of the center gem whirled like a galaxy and flickered like a storm. A warm sensation crept from Coren's finger up her arm, through her very veins, through the threads of Weave inside her. Small jagged crystals in shades of white & blue jetted up around the center shard. 

    The warm sensation spread through her chest like a deep, calm breath. It rippled through her body like a beating heart and the primordial elemental magic inside her beat with it. Tears silently slid down her cheek. Where once she felt the constant clawing to contain it, now she felt like it lay in the palm of her hand. Ready to wield. The magic enveloped her like a familiar embrace. It felt like power. It felt like love. Like Rolan.

    “Coren,” Rolan whispered, touching his horned forehead to her’s, “are you going to give me my answer?”

    If she wasn’t so damn enthralled by him right now, she knew there was a joke to make there. Stupid wizard and his enchanting displays of affection. She nodded her head and cupped his cheek in her hand.

    “Yes.”

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here