#I SWEAR I still work on this stupid story lol

[dumpsterfirepropaganda]

BLOODTHIRST VS. BLOODLUST

[shellshocklove]

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you��ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.  

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”  

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?” 

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan. 

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.) 

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle. 

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies. 

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager. 

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still. 

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup. 

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?” 

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked. 

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too. 

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out. 

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy. 

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this. 

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question. 

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?” 

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.” 

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa. 

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?” 

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place. 

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa. 

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive. 

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.” 

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?” 

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.” 

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?” 

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!” 

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.” 

“Did you need a ride?” 

Shitty luck, indeed. 

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically. 

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.” 

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi. 

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him. 

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.” 

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle? 

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him. 

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road. 

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is. 

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi. 

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt. 

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…” 

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise. 

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you. 

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.” 

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though. 

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door. 

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

[celestialalpacaron]

Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

[pha55ed]

Touch | F1/F2 (kimi bday celly!)

type :: fluff tw/cw :: gn!reader for all, one gendered-term for carlos contains :: kimi!, oscar, carlos request :: heyy! can you do touch by katseye for carlos, oscar and kimi? or choose whatever 2 other drivers u want if you dont feel like writing for these, im mainly requesting for kimi lol. im really excited to read the new stuff, love ur writing 💕 (yes ofcc!! i love carlos and oscar sm <33 and thank you!! ur so sweet :D ) link to kimi bday celly!

Kimi Antonelli | 04

Getting a crush wasn't on Kimi's 2024 bingo, instead it was on the list of the things that he didn't want. Focussing on racing has been what he's done all his life, he's barely had breaks or time to himself - so how the well would be able to have a girlfriend? He knew logically that a relationship would never work, and yet he couldn't stop the way his heart beat got faster around you.

As you came to the paddock once again, he wanted to scream. It was a internal fight that he could never win. On one hand, he was estatic to have you here to help cheer him on and watch him. It was going to push him 10 times harder to be better, to make sure to impress you. But on another hand, he was screaming because how he was shitting his pants and thinking of every bad outcome possible.

What if he crashes in the first minute and has to retire? What if he loses miserably and doesn't even have an excuse for why he sucked so bad that day? What if a different driver sees you and realizes how cute you are and tries to flirt with you, he's especially worried about Paul or Ollie finding you - he knew those two could pull anyone if they wanted.

He did his best to focus on the race, pulling off P7, not awful but not amazing. And god was he nervous, his hands were sweaty and forehead glossy from nerves. Before he could allow you to see him, he needed to freshen up in some way.

Rushing to his drivers room, trying his best to avoid anyone and everything so he can see you quickly. But when he walks into his drivers room, he's met with you looking at him whilst holding a little bouquet of flowers.

Suddenly his senses were all heightened. He could smell his sweat from his armpits, has he always smelt this bad? He could feel how loose his racing suit was on him, did he look too baggy? His breathing was still raggedy from racing, oh my gosh did his staggered breathing make him seem unfit?

And even worse, why did you look so perfect to him? God he hates this. It was like his entire plan for his future was crumbling all because some stupid person walked in and made his stomach flip. He was stuck there, frozen, staring at you with his mouth slightly open as he does his best to think of anything at all.

You confuse his silence with him not wanting you there, which even he didn't know if he wanted you in there or not. So you hand him the flowers, congratulating him on his placement as you left.

Long story short: he's awful with crushes. You WILL be the death of him.

Oscar Piastri | 81

Being nonchalant is basically his entire brand. That's why so many people freak out when they see him laugh or giggle, he's known as the next "Kimi Raikkonen" for a reason. So, when you begin to come to more races since you're the daughter of one of the head engineers at Mclaren, everyone notices how different Oscar is around you.

He usually just stands there,,, awkwardly,,, as if he's a Sim waiting for a command. But with you, he's suddenly fiddling with everything, doing his best to make sure he looks good. He constantly pushes his hair back, clearing his throat, making sure his shoulders are rolled back, you swear you even saw him MEW whilst you were busy talking...

This crush is noticed by everyone, the engineers, mechanics, lando, and even you. But there's one person who doesn't know: and that's Oscar himself. Somehow, he's fully gaslit himself into believing he's just nervous around you for other reasons.

He only pulls out your chair when you come to the group dinners because he's a gentleman. He keeps fixing his hair around you since it's windy, even if you're talking indoors. He can't stop staring at you because you stick out since you're the only girl in the Mclaren garage,,, even if you're not the only girl,,, there are like 10 other women who work in Mclaren.

But one day, Lando and Oscar are eating breakfast together before their free practice. That's when Lando boldly asks, "So have you made a move yet on (Y/N)?" Oscar replies with no, scoffing at his question as if Lando was asking something stupid. Lando has a small smirk from Oscar's reply. "So, can I shoot my shot?"

Instantly Oscar is confused, obviously no! But he's not sure why he wants to say no to Lando's desire to ask you out. Oscar literally tries to find every single reason as to why he doesn't want Lando to date you, even going as far to think he's possibly gay for Lando. He rules that out quickly though and connects the dots, he can't deny them anymore: he likes you.

From that point on, Oscar is an even bigger mess than he already is around you. He's already nervous, but now you swear you can see the buckets, yes plural, of sweat that he's making from even being in the same room as you. You know he likes you, everyone in the paddock as already told you, even Toto Wolff joined in,,, why is this grown man in some young adult romance...

Please, please, please, just confess your feelings to Oscar. He most likely won't get the guts to even THINK of asking you out for at least 4 months. And then he has to plan how he's gonna ask you out for another 2 months. And then he has to gather the courage to ask you out for another 4 months. And then... you get the point.

Carlos Sainz | 55

Unlike the other two, Carlos is older and more experienced than them. But of course, he's still going to be a tad bit flustered when it comes to you. You're one of the new videographers for Drive to Survive. All videographers were assigned a driver to film, and you got Carlos. Which you were grateful for since he's always super respectful and also very easy to film, since he looks good in every angle.

Carlos usually hated being filmed for Drive to Survive, he thought they were super annoying. But he couldn't bring himself to dislike you, even when you accidentally hit him with your huge camera - he still found you so endearing. He couldn't help but try to shoot his shot at you.

Every time you came to film him, he made sure to drop not-so-subtle hints that he liked you. Like saying, "maybe I should film you, you're much more beautiful" which you obviously reply by saying how handsome Carlos is - which makes him smirk. You fell for his trap of calling him beautiful, but was it really a trap if you've been thinking it from the very first day?

Or how you always have to remind him to look into the camera when speaking, because his dark brown puppy eyes can't help but stare at you instead. Or when you almost trip since the camera gear is so heavy and Carlos catches you, saving you almost $10,000 in damages. Or when you went to the bathroom, leaving your camera on the table only to be met with a camera shoved in your face that was controlled by Carlos, to which he laughed and repeated yet again, "you're stunning".

As you two get to know each other more and more, he becomes much more forward with his flirting. Greeting you with an air-kiss, brushing your hair behind your ears, and even buying you multiple bouquets of flowers. You couldn't help but blush at all of his actions, but you knew you needed to stay professional still to avoid getting fired. Carlos knew that too, he would never want his favorite camera-woman to get fired.

So it's a constant tug of flirting with you and you being bashful in return. It's a painfully long wait till the season end so that Carlos can finally ask you out on a date, since there's no longer a contract forbidding you two.

[6okuto]

Hi dear I have and idea for touch starved ais and vere.

WHAT IF- what if the reader (MC) is like a single parent?????

Mc's like a mild or dilf or something like that?!

AIS AND VERE WITH A SINGLE PARENT

gn!mc | meow. this (doing old reqs) is my parting gift(?)..

VERE

his ear flicks up when mc mentions their kid for the first time. where are they? why are you here? who's the other parent?

not a guy who spends time around kids. probably not a guy who should spend time around kids /hj what swear words and scary stories will he share...

^ tbf he also gives some solid life advice, even if it's a bit blunt, or something the kid doesn't understand just yet

if mc's kid is witty / snarky he finds them amusing (especially if it's at mc) and easier to be around! whether that's good for mc or not is not up to mc Lmao

it varies depending on mc's relationship with their kid but if mc's kid is grown up, vere is more of his usual self. swearing, analyzing them, taunting them, etc.

vere never thought of himself as a possible father-figure. or even like, a fun uncle. but he likes mc, and despite his complaints or denial, has grown a little fond of their child.

^ possible angst if vere's like, do you really want to be with me? am i the role model you want them to have in their life? i'm chained up for god's sake etc

gets soft/quiet when mc talks to him about their kid. he sees the fondness in their expression, and even if he can't really relate, he can still sympathize

would make a couple pilf...? jokes. sorry. it isn't necessary though. he does enough flirting and innuendos that the pilf(?) thing doesn't come up that often

brings up their kid when mc is about to do something dangerous or stupid, when they succeed at said dangerous or stupid thing, or when their kid also tries doing something dangerous and or stupid. "well it's no surprise who you got your confidence from."

vere questioning mc's parenting tactics LOL. mc is like And what do you know about parenting and vere's like. enough to judge yours. they find common ground eventually

AIS

really doubles down on his warnings about the seaspring when he finds out they're a parent. he doesn't have to know how old, what their relationship is like, etc—he's already asking how much they're willing to risk and telling them to think about their kid

otherwise he doesn't really treat mc differently—they're a grown and capable adult, and being a parent doesn't change or weaken that

ais would pick his pets over hanging out with a kid, but he doesn't give himself enough credit with how well he can get along with one

if mc's kid is old enough that he can play pranks on mc with them. well. he will. mc looks at the both of them and they both shrug like What? it wasn't us? (the kid is grinning and giggling but ais keeps it together for the both of them.)

if there's an opportunity to introduce them to princess / whoever else, he will! like look at this sweet girl, you don't have to be scared. you wanna try getting her to sit and roll around?

babysits if needed, takes them out for the day (if only to keep them away from the seaspring). they get some food and he comes up with exaggerated stories for each shop the kid points out

mc's kid who's old enough for ais to teach them some self defense after they walk in on him taking care of injuries from a bar fight. mc who walks in on them and goes ?!?!?!

mc vents about their parenting troubles, and ais isn't sure if his leadership advice/experience is totally applicable to taking care of a child, but surely some of it is? he tries to help anyway

i can see their kid opening up to ais about things that worry them tbh. he's got that vibe. depending on what it is, ais might suggest to mc something they should do, or try to help himself

similar to vere, he likes mc and their child but he wants them to think about what's best for them—if that includes him in the picture. like yes he'll do his best, but he can't blame them if things don't work out. honestly he might try to cut things off firstdjdjshd

[baddestbittyontheblock]

february fic recs (2/2)

✦ dividers by @saradika-graphics, @gigittamic, @plutism ✦

Ⳋ᧙ hi everyone!! i've read a ton of fics this month, so i hope you all enjoy my faves of february!! Ⳋ᧙ ⑅part 1⑅

I made 2 post's for february cause it was too long lol

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each incredible writer!! ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Ⳋ᧙ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings Ⳋ᧙

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ also, if you’d like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

tlou

ellie williams

❀᧓ ellie fic by @elslvrsworld bbf!ellie x curious!reader | men dni, swearing, kissing, suggestive, brief mention of weed, corruption kink (if u squint), no smut (yet ;p) player!ellie, kind of innocent!reader, 1.6k words

-your brothers best friend.

❀᧓ in the pale moonlight by @sweetmourninglambie e. williams x fem! reader | weed usage lol, thigh riding, established relationship, clothed sex i guess, high sex (?), reader is a femme, fluff, kinda dom! ellie and sub! reader, and pet names, 2.7k

-the familiar sound of ellie’s lighter flickering to life caught your attention, enough that you turned away from the movie she had put on for the two of you to watch together.

❀᧓ late by @tashasbabe ellie williams x reader | profanity, strap rubbing, masturbation

-“i’m still thinking about you.”

❀᧓ ellie blurb by @moonalumi high sub!top ellie williams x reader | ELLIE BEGGING ELLIE BEGGING GUYS, fingering (r and e receiving) they do it to each other at the same time, reader and ellie also compete for dominance kinda, ma/mama kink

-a puff of smoke invades your nose and a coughing ellie causes you to lift up from your resting place on her chest.

❀᧓ ellie blurb by ^ ellie williams x reader | rough strap on sex from the back (r receiving)

-reader w ellies name tattooed on her lower back and when she surprises ellie w it ellie straps her from the back.

❀᧓ ellie blurb by ^ ellie williams x reader | nsfw 18+, scissoring/tribbing, ellie calling u mama

-messy nasty car sex w sub!top ellie

❀᧓ a dare to stupid by @undressrehearsal ellie williams x reader | nsfw, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving), 7.5k

-a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

❀᧓ ellie fic by @elslvrsworld f1 driver!ellie x girlfriend!reader | men dni, 2.0k words, porn w/ plot (kindof), wlw sex, oral (e!receiving), degradation (pretty vanilla), + praise, pet names (baby, mama, princess, etc;) vulgarity, profanity, dom!ellie, sub!reader, riding (r!receiving), smacking (like a lil tap), ellie refers to strap as her cock, overstimulation, nipple sucking, mating press (r!receiving), black reader, angry!ellie kinda dirtyy hollon

-ellie loses a race just by a second and needs a to place her anger somewhere.

marvel

wanda maximoff

❀᧓ her favorite drug by @scarletlizzard wanda x fem!reader | minors dni, drug use (marijuana), smoking, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, strap on use (r receiving), fluff

-your girlfriend is a stoner. one night, you decide you finally want to try some.

❀᧓ mind games by @wandasverison wanda maximoff x fem!reader | 18+, two second mommy kink, slight electrocution (if that’s even what you’d call it), smut for sure, oh yeah mind reading (major), mind altering? (slight? not really, just trippy Wanda powers)

-gf!wanda maximoff; reader makes a joke about Wanda invading their mind while they have sex, Wanda takes it a little too seriously and y/n makes it up to her with apologies and a little seduction.

natasha romanoff

❀᧓ let's run away by @marvelfilth natasha romanoff x f!reader

-it's your wedding day and you can't be seen with natasha

the bear

carmen berzatto

❀᧓ dad!carmen blurb by @gxtitobxby dad!carmen berzatto x reader

-i’m thinking of his little daughter one night, sitting at the kitchen table with her hair wet from the shower, brushed back and leaving a damp spot on the back of her pyjama shirt, and she’s having some fruit for dessert while you wash dishes and carmen prepares her lunch for school tomorrow, and out of nowhere she asks absentmindedly “daddy could you pack some extra please?”

❀᧓ the feeling by @thebearer carmen berzatto x reader | 18+minors dni. mentions of a gun and alcohol but not in a bad way lol? established relationship. slight mentions of a dom/sub dynamic. language. but really just fluff fluff fluff &lt;3

-a little tipsy, definitely hungry, and missing carmen, you find your way to the restaurant after closing to see him.

❀᧓ cute blurb by ^ carmen berzatto x reader

-carmy’s gf being dropped off at carmy’s restaurant (after closing) after another girls night, and she’s so drunk that she doesn’t recognize carmy for a second

❀᧓ sixth sense by ^ carmen berzatto x reader

-carmy has a sixth sense for when his gf hasn’t eaten. Even on the days where she has no headache, no aching tummy, he just takes one look at her and makes that one face and is like “Are you fucking kidding me?”

❀᧓ treat me tonight by @answer2jeff carmen berzatto x reader | fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot

-"try it,"

❀᧓ girl dinner by @mayfieldss carmen berzatto x reader

-"what the fuck is girl dinner?"

❀᧓ more, more, more by @atrwriting carmen berzatto x coworker!reader | SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck

-you didn’t really know how it happened.

❀᧓ a little taste by @caramelberzatto carmen berzatto x reader | 18+, swearing, p in v, etc. afab!reader. no use of pronouns

-he called your name through the dark apartment, but it went unheard from where you laid, face down.

❀᧓ sunshine baby by ^ pre-fatherhood dad!carm x fem!reader | mildy suggestive content, pregnancy. fem!reader, use of fem pronouns

-the temperatures in the past week had sky-rocketed, leaving you sweating with even the slightest amount of movement, and that wasn’t taking into account the hot flashes that came with pregnancy.

❀᧓ yours, cb. by @lovebitters carmen berzatto x reader | fluff, 1.02k

-carmen writes a letter to you the day before he proposes, reflecting on your relationship.

marauders era

sirius black

❀᧓ sirius blurb by @wzrd-wheezes sirius black x reader | smut

-reader who has a hard time cumming and sirius helps with that

❀᧓ little lies by @amiableness sirius black x fem!reader | smut 18+, male masturbation, oral fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be so careful!), reader wears a bikini top, and jealousy, 11.4k

-james asks sirius and y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to lily.

james potter

❀᧓ late night snacks by @shiftermia james potter x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader | fluff

-where james catches you and peter in the kitchens

❀᧓ end game by @pretty-little-mind33 james potter x slytherin!fem!reader | fluff/hurt and comfort, rivalry, chaser!captain!james, chaser!captain!reader, secret relationship (previous enemies to lovers), injuries, swearing, protective!james

-playing quidditch against your secret boyfriend is usually fun…

remus lupin

❀᧓ a christmas special by @moonstruckme remus lupin x fem!reader | mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love, 11k

-after christmas eve at remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. he's more than happy to host you

❀᧓ grumpy x sunshine by @underoospeterparker  grumpy!remus lupin x sunshine!fem!reader

-"why the annoyed look, moons?" sirius laughed, nudging his best friend. "problems in paradise?"

poly!marauders

❀᧓ ❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞ by @sunnami (1/2) poly!marauders x reader, (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.) | reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair

-how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

❀᧓ ❝time will tell.❞ (2/2) by ^ poly!mauraders x reader, (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.) | reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], depressed and traumatized slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, angst, 9.5k

-❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

❀᧓ you'd be the love of my life when i was young by ^ poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader) | slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

-gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

❀᧓ possessive by @ellecdc poly!wolfstar x fem!reader | slight injury, nothing major, fluff

-“okay, well the wound is closed but there’s not much i can do about the bruising or the blood on your shirt.”

❀᧓ cute fic by ^ poly!WolfStar x fem!reader | territorial boyfriend, slight jealousy, dom/sub dynamics if you squint but SFW

-you weren’t hiding. not really...

but you were also sort of kind of definitely hiding.

❀᧓ funny blurb by @luveline poly!marauders x fem!reader | mdni please!, 1k

-“what is that?”

[howlettchase]

Strong heart, strong body

Welcome to my first time ever writing something on Tumblr.

In this universe Jean is alive because if she dies it would ruin the story that i already made up in my head lol so suck it up and have some imagination.

Here part 2

English is not my first language and oh god i am trying so hard to choose words that aren´t simple or cringey because of my poor fucking english. Any how, please enjoy.

╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .╭──╯ . . . . .

You really did loved him. No. More than that, you were obsessed with all of him, admired him, your heart was beating only for him.

At first it was pure admiration, he was strong and even though sometimes he was too grumpy and stuborn, he cared, he cared for Rouge, Strom, Charles even Scott (he probably will never admit it) and he cared the most for Jean. Oh boy how much he cared for her, the first time he saw her was like love at first sight for him, he didn´t give a shit that she was with Eric, he didn´t care about trying to flirt with her in front of her boyfriend, he was so submerged in all of Jean´s existance.

But as some time went by, you and Logan started getting along, at first you were only teammates, working together at training your students, but you grew fond of each other, spending time together alone, having really private conversations and emotional talks every night.

Damn he sometimes would even put his arm around you, kiss the top of your head and even gave you compliments, ( they were kind of suggestive too your liking but a compliment at the end of the day) he was just so touchy with you, you wanted to just melt in his hands and live as a melted being so he could take care of you.

¨Aye¨ his voice made you react, you were out in the balcony watching the sky, it was already kind of late and windy but it felt so fresh that you stayed maybe too long out.

¨You scared me¨ he walked next to you, he had the grey hoodie he took the first time he met the Professor. ¨Sorry kid¨ He still referring to you as kid, yeah you were younger than him but you were a grown woman and a teacher, so that nickname gives you a weird feeling since you were a bit too old to be called kid. ¨Just because you are more tha a hundred yeard older than me doesn´t mean im still a kid¨ He chuckled a bit ¨Well, can´t help it, i have a right to call everyone kid¨ You raised one eyebrow ¨Even the Professor?¨ He paused for like two seconds and look at the sky ¨Maybe not him¨

You stared at his profile, the wind hitting his hair and he just looked so ugh so beautiful and hot, he had his hoodie a little bit unzipped so you could see a bit of his chest. His musuclar chest.

¨You are going to drill a hole if you stare that intense¨You swear you were discreet enough, you felt a little embarrassed but there was no point in denying it. ¨You look like a whore, can´t help it¨

He raised his eyebrow and contained a smile ¨Look who is talking¨ you placed your hand in your heart faking an offended tone ¨Excuse you? i dress properly in every situation while most of the time you have your chest naked for everyone to see¨ He stared at you ¨I only see you looking¨

You were looking at each other eyes, too much for your liking and you start to feel your face hot, was he always this close? you felt this he was standing really close to you, too close to your embarrassed and stupid in love face.

¨I guess i just don´t know how to hide it¨ You were talking about the looks you give him, but you know it also meant you could´t hide your feelings very well.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him to his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the breeze on your face and his hand caressing your arm.

Oh god his hands, big and strong, masculine and long. His hand caressed your shoulder and then travel to your arm, the tip of his fingers made you had goosebumps, you breathe staring to change a bit in rhythm. His finger travel to the side of your neck to caress it. You felt your heart about to explore, this felt to erotic and personal, it was kinda funny ( or pathetic) how just the touch of his fingers could make you feel.

His placed his hand in your chin to make you look at him but before he could you moved your head to avoid it. Having him touch you is one thing but looking at him was different, you didn´t want him to see your ready-to-explode face, what if he notices? If he founds out how you actually think about him?

Getting rejected was NOT going to happen, you preferred a bullet, one in your heart and another one through your brain.

¨Look at me¨ No.

You didn´t know what to do, what to say. Fuck! your face was still burning up and your stomcah felt like throwing up a million of dead butterflies.

You decided to look at him, if he questions something about your face or your actions you would just lie or throw yourself through the balcony in hopes to die.

Your eyes met and you felt you whole body, even your hands and legs burning up, he was so close to your face, his eyes so intensely watching you, looking at your lips and eyes.

¨Do you hate this¨ You didn´t exactly understand what he meant ¨Hate what?¨ His hand travel to you lower back to pull you closer to him, both chest pressed to each other ¨This¨

You were 100% going to throw up any second in that man´s beautiful face.

¨No, not at all¨

His other hand cup your cheek and you let yourself enjoy his touch, his hands were big and strong, you could feel it.

His thumb touching your lower lip, guiding you to open your mouth a litte bit. He got closer, just milimiters from your face, he stuck out his tongue to lick your lower lip. Fuck.

¨You know that if you want me to stop, just say it and i will¨ You nodded but that was never going to happen.

You cupped your hands to his face and pulled him closes to finally kiss. He pressed you closer to him, his hands on your back with a strong hold on you so you can´t separate from him. So you don´t go away.

You could feel how desperate the kiss was, his tongue licking your lips and then entering your mouth again and again. You were getting so weak, so consumed by lust, your brain was off, not a single thought, just the feeling of Logan´s hands on your waist, your neck, on your ass, breast, back, he was feeling all of you. His vocie would grunt from time to time, his deep voice just giving you hints showing how much he was enjoying having you. Feeling you.

How much time has passed? For how long have you been kissing? 5 minutes? 10? Just pure kissing and touching each other frantically was enough to make all your sensitive spots hurt, palpitate for some kind of relief. For him.

Finally your brain turned on, where you going to have sex? Was this going to escalate more? Would he like it?

You started getting nervous, scared by the idea that what would happen if he doesn´t like it, if he stops kisssing you and to each their own just going to your respective rooms.

What if this was the last time this was going to happen? He maybe just wanted some relief. Oh god, maybe just because he couldn´t have Jean he went for someone who would give in.

Logan pulled away, a tiny string of saliva connected both of your mouths for a second.

¨Let´s go¨

Fuck it. You didn´t care if he was using you, either if it was because he just needed some kind of relief or because Jean wasn´t available, you really desired this, you needed this and you would have it, it this was the last time you could have him then you would make a hell of a time out of this.

It was dark and already late, so both of you stayed silently walking to his room holding hands to prevent any students waking up.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

OKEY so i will make a part 2 of course. BUt thats it and hope you enjoy, any suggestions are more than welcome. Love u.

Edit: i am still editing some grammar mistakes lol

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Special Needs

Gif credits

Pairing/AU: DBF!Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak

Rating: +18, Minors please don’t interact, NSFW

Summary: Joel lets you convince him that you can help him get back in shape. (Do you remember the episode of Friends where Monica convinces Chandler to work out with her? The idea came to me while watching that episode. What came out of it, however, has almost nothing to do with that episode. LOL but I used the name Geller as a tribute)

Word count: 4254

Warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 22, Joel's age is not explicitly mentioned but I would say around 46/48), pov switch (I hope I succeeded because it's my first time), reader has breasts and vagina, she is wearing shorts and a sports bra and has a ponytail, other than that there is no other particularly accurate description of her, brat taming dynamic, power dynamic, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill, please take precautions IRL), spit, cum eating, oral (m receiving), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), sex in a public place (a park LOL), risk of getting caught, swearing (A LOT), Joel is mean, reader is mean too and also a total brat, rough sex, praise kink, a little bit of orgasm control, a lot of bickering, Joel wears shorts (!!!), Joel comes inside her, sort of (?) seed kink, pet names (mostly good girl, honey, bratty little thing, cheeky little thing, babe), use of the term daddy once, readers calls Joel and old man and other nicknames multiple times, Joel slaps reader once during sex, I don’t even know what to say, you all, it’s pure filth 💀 Title is from a Placebo song.

As always, English is not my first language so please be kind, no proofreading, no editing, no beta, it’s all my fault and I’m very sorry, I hope this makes sense, otherwise pretend it never existed, thanks.

And thank you so much for reading my silly little stories, I'm still in disbelief that anyone is interested in what I write 😭

Joel hadn’t considered everything when you suggested it. He’d looked at your big, shining eyes as you told him he didn’t need to pay a lot of money to join a gym, you’d take care of getting him in shape.

Running had always been a part of you and you did it every morning so there wouldn’t be any problems.

Luckily, you had just returned from college for the summer and would be spending three months at your parents’ house before classes started again.

At first it seemed like a sentence, you would have preferred to go to Europe with your roommate but you had decided to save the money you had earned working as a waitress and you didn't feel like asking your parents for them.

As soon as you got out of your dad’s car, you saw Joel waving at you from across the street and you remembered when you had a crush on him. You thought you’d put it behind you and that it was just a passing teenage nonsense.

That day you realized that it wasn't like that, it hadn't gone away at all.

Two weeks had passed and your father had invited his best friend Joel for dinner.

Sure, why not.

You were so nervous that it took you an hour and a half to choose what to wear, your mother had come to your room twice to see what the hell you were doing and why you hadn't gone down to the kitchen to help her yet.

Why the hell did you get yourself into that situation?

After all, blowing your savings in Europe was probably not such a bad idea, after all you are 22 and had the right to enjoy your holidays. Stupid conscience, by now you could have been in Spain or Italy or even France.

You ended up wearing denim shorts and a crop top. Pretty much what you usually wore, but you thought you saw Joel peeking at your thighs few days before and you obviously liked the idea.

When your mother saw you she didn't make any comment, she had never made a fuss about how you dressed. And she certainly didn't imagine that those skimpy denim shorts were there to get her husband's best friend to look at you, it didn't even cross her mind. You were above suspicion.

When you saw him enter the dining room followed by your father you almost lost your breath.

Why was he so damn attractive? You should have convinced yourself to forget about him but you hadn't. You had tried to do it that night too, until he mentioned that he wanted to join the gym and you almost interrupted him and said "you could come running with me."

You felt like you were watching yourself from the outside and if you could you would have slapped yourself. Why had such a bullshit come out of your mouth.

Fuck.

You actually knew very well why.

Joel looked at you with a surprised expression. “Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Excuse me, you live across the street, is it possible that you’ve never seen me running? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I never noticed, kid, honestly noticing your habits is not a priority in my life” Joel had replied nonchalantly.

Your father had laughed, covering his embarrassment.

Of course he knew. He had seen you scampering around the neighborhood in those skimpy shorts and that way-low-cut sports top. He had also wondered where the hell you had bought that stuff, didn't the good old tracksuits that covered everything exist anymore?

“Well, you could at least try. We’ll start with a short route. Just a few miles, do you think you can do it?” You replied, batting your eyelashes and looking at him with an angelic expression.

“Sure, kiddo, I sweat all day to earn a living,” he retorted defiantly. “Who do you think I am?”

“An old man” you said candidly.

This time even your mother, who was usually composed and cared more about education than anything else, giggled.

Joel looked at you with an ironic expression “ok, little girl, I'm in”

“Good, then I'll see you at 6 because it will be too hot later, I'll come and knock on your door” you replied mischievously.

“Pfff Do you think it’s a problem for me to wake up early? I’ve been waking up at 5 for decades”

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday”

Joel rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

You had won, incredible.

Your father looked at him smiling and shrugged, “what can I say, I have a smart daughter”

Oh sure, you looked so pleased with yourself.

You hadn't won the war yet though.

————

The next morning you wake up at 5, get ready, put on the shortest shorts you could find, a sports top that reaches just below your breasts, and go out quietly so as not to wake your parents.

You knock on Joel's door at 6 o'clock sharp, imagining his expression when he saw you.

Joel opens the door with a cup of coffee in his hand “hey girl! do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks you with a seraphic expression painted on his face.

He would never give you the satisfaction of being caught unprepared.

“I’ve already had it at my house. Don’t try to postpone the inevitable Mr Miller.” he hates it when you call him that, it makes him feel old and you know it.

“When did you become so simpering? I need to have a chat with your father.” he smirks.

“Of course” you reply rolling your eyes “So are you ready or not? I won’t wait all morning.”

“I was born ready, little rascal, I'll take this to the kitchen and then we can go”

“K, I’ll wait here”

You drum your fingers on the door frame as you watch him walk away. “Tick tock, tick tock,” you taunt and he turns to glare at you as he walks past the kitchen threshold.

You have to admit, he looks pretty cute in shorts, in fact, who are you trying to fool… he has amazing legs.

And clearly, even if you never tell him, you think that he doesn't need anything and that the effort he puts into his job has already shaped him enough. This is just an excuse to spend time alone with him.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, closing the door and putting his keys in his pocket. “Keep up with me, old man,” you say, smiling before stepping off his porch and running as fast as you can.

You hear him swearing behind you as he tries to catch up. After a hundred meters you see him coming up beside you and he’s out of breath “you did it on purpose”

“Of course” you giggle looking straight ahead.

“Can we slow down a bit now or were you planning on giving me a heart attack?”

“Okay, okay, I don't want you on my conscience, Mr Miller,” you start walking at a fast pace “we can do this for a while”

You turn to him and see his face all red and sweaty. “Damn, are you down already?”

“Not a chance, little girl. And stop calling me Mr. Miller, you know it gets on my nerves.” he grunts trying to catch his breath

“Yes I know, Mr Miller” you reply with a flirtatious tone and you know he didn’t miss it because he turns to you and looks at you and his eyes say “I’m going to make you regret this”

“So, why did you come back here this summer?”

“College is expensive and my parents already do enough for me, I’m trying to save as much as I can.”

“It’s a smart move and indeed very thoughtful” he admits

"See? I'm not as bad as you think” you say glaring at him while you keep the pace “While we’re on the subject, you might not call me kiddo, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yeah, whatever, kiddo. I’m good now just in case you are interested”

“Ok, you asked for it” you say in a challenging tone and start running again as fast as you can.

“Hey!” He shout “you little cheeky thing!”

“Blame yourself for it, geriatric” you shout back.

Joel huffs and tries to run faster to catch up with you as you run away laughing.

He doesn't mind being behind though, he can see your ass bouncing hugged in those ridiculous shorts you've put on that barely cover your butt cheeks.

He’s not supposed to think certain things, but you've been mischievous since you got back.

He has noticed how you look at him and how you always try to argue with him, he is pretty sure that this is your way of flirting and he finds it quite funny.

And well… you're definitely cute, much cuter than he remembered.

He forced himself not to do anything because you are his best friend's daughter but you don't make it easy for him.

And now you’re here in those skimp shorts and that sports bra so small that your boobs look like they could pop out at any moment.

And the worst part is your attitude.

Fuck, you’re making a mess in his pants lately.

“Come on, old man, you can do it” oh you are so insolent in persisting in calling him old, he really should teach you a lesson.

He tries his hardest to reach you and you slow down, let him get a little closer and run away again.

“Jesus Christ” he cuss under his breath and try to run faster and you let him getting closer and then you sprint away again laughing and calling him a couch potato.

You keep going like this until he can finally reach you and he grab your wrist.

You turn to him “Hey! Let go of me!” you look like an angry kitten ready to scratch.

“Now we're taking a break,” Joel hisses.

“What the hell? There are still two miles to go”

“I SAID. We’re taking a break. Now”

“Okay, lazybones, whatever you want, don't get too nervous”

Joel is looking mad, which is so dumb, you were just kidding and he should know it.

It turns you on to see him like this though, you have to admit it.

“How about you let go of my wrist for starters?”

He lets go and looks at you askance.

He's drenched, little drops of sweat slide down the column of his neck, his black, soaked curls are plastered to his forehead, his damp t-shirt lets you glimpse the shape of his nipples.

God, he’s gorgeous.

His labored breathing sounds like a hoarse roar as he tells you, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

Yeah, you shouldn't be so horny for Joel but you can't help it.

“I’m doing nothing” you shout

“Don’t scream” his voice is low but nark.

He looks around, you are near the park and there is no one else.

Apparently you are the only ones who had the crazy idea of ​​running at 6 on Saturday morning.

He grabs your arm and drags you inside, you try to resist “Joel!” but you don’t really want to. He stops behind a tree and pushes you against it.

“You’re trying to do nothing, huh? You haven't been trying to tease me since you got here, have you?“

“No” you say, but you're so delighted that he noticed.

“So at the Geller party last week you didn’t intentionally drop your glass in front of me and bend over to pick it up so I could see your panties, right?”

“I dropped a glass, that's all,” you coo.

“And not even the day you stood naked in front of your bedroom window? You knew I was in the garden, you saw me“

“I was in my room and I had just showered. It's not my fault that you are a voyeur”

“Sure. And the other day when I met you and your father at the cafe and you were eating ice cream? Even then you weren’t trying to do anything?”

Oh. He noticed that too.

Yep, you were busy with that spoon. Pretty cliché of you, you felt so silly.

But apparently it worked.

“It's you who sees mischief where there’s nothing”

“Oh sure, I imagined it” he hiss

You feel the bark stinging your back as he presses you against it, his arms at either side of you stretched out against the tree.

You could duck and run away if you wanted to. The point is, you don't want to.

“And tell me, what did you think you were going to do with these shorts and this top?”

“I was thinking of running” you shrug, and you look at him batting your eyelashes.

He snorts, “You’re such a brat”

You raise your chin slightly, resting your head against the tree “So what?” you ask defiantly “What do you want to do, you moldy old rag, punish me?”

He presses you even more against the tree, staying an inch from your face. You can feel his breath blowing on your skin.

“This attitude will not bring you anything good”

“oooh how scary”you whisper, looking him straight in the eyes.

He licks his lips “Is this what you want?”

“Yes”

His mouth is crushing on yours in a second, his tongue forces your lips and slips inside licking you hungrily and leaving you breathless, his beard scratching your skin.

You grab his cock through his shorts squeezing it and you can feel it’s already hard.

He pulls off and hiss “Fuck, baby, you don’t waste time”

“Yes, I never liked wasting my time” you purr

He takes your hand and raises your arm, pinning it against the tree. “And you think you deserve that?” he asks you authoritatively.

“What the fuck. Of course I do”

“I don’t think so. Here's what you're going to do now. You're going to shut your mouth and do what I tell you to do.”

“No” you hiss

“Oh you will, brat, if you want my dick”

“Fuck”

He looks around again to make sure there is no one in the park. “Kneel down.”

“On the ground?” you raise your eyebrow

“Yeah, on the ground princess. Kneel”

“But I-”

“KNEEL. Fuck, don't make me raise my voice, someone might hear”

You kneel in front of him and he pulls down his shorts just enough to pull his cock out.

It's huge.

You swallow, wondering how you're going to fit it in your mouth.

“Open” he orders

“It won’t fit” you’re suddenly intimidated.

“It will fit, darling, open wide”

“But Joel…”

“Open. Wide.”

You open your mouth as wide as you can and wait. He spit in his hand and strokes himself a couple of times and then starts to slide it into your mouth, onto your tongue.

Your gag reflex almost gets the better of you when you feel it hit the back of your throat.

His salty, musky flavor is all over your mouth.

Luckily you manage to hold back and look up at him “Just like that, honey. See how much easier it is when you stop being a brat?”

He grabs your ponytail and starts moving your head up and down its length, the ground scrapes your knees, you try to breathe through your nose but you're still tired from the run and it's not like Joel has given you so much time to recover.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing but Joel immediately scolds you “eyes on me” and he tugs on your hair.

You grunt and in response he starts fucking your mouth again harder than before.

“Do as I say or your pussy won't even get touched today.”

And you stupidly think “well, I can do it myself” and you bring one hand up your shorts, right above your clit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you immediately hear him say as he takes his cock out of your mouth.

His hand is still tight on your ponytail, he pulls your head and slaps his cock on your cheek.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes” you murmur

“A little bit louder, babe. I can’t hear you”

“Yes” you repeat.

“You don't have an ending until I say so, you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good. Stick out your tongue for me, baby”

And you do. You want it too much.

He goes back into your mouth and starts rutting into it savagely.

You feel tears stinging your eyes and the ground is now unbearable under your knees but you don't protest anymore, his big fat cock throbbing between your lips and its veins sliding on your tongue are too delicious to do without.

You feel your panties getting soaked.

You look into his eyes again and you can see a pleased expression painted all over his face.

It's so infuriating and rousing at the same time.

Fuck, Joel Miller.

You don't even know how long he keeps fucking your mouth, you’re totally cock drunk at this point.

His orgasm takes you by surprise, you feel his seed invade your mouth and drip down your chin.

He finally pulls back and smear his seed all over your lips with his thumb.

He forces your lips with his finger “lick it clean, babe”

And you do, like a kitten starved.

“Such a good girl” and his little praise goes straight to your clit.

He finally gets you off the ground and he puts his cock back in his pants.

You look down at your knees, they’re full of grass and dirt, you brush them off with the back of your hand and they hurt. Great. You already know you’re going to get bruises.

“What are you going to tell your parents?”

“That I gave you a blowjob in the park after running. What do you think? Jesus, I'll pretend that I fell to the ground like an idiot" and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, bratty little thing” Joel smirk defiantly.

You sit up and lean back against the tree. You tug on his shirt, pulling him closer to you. “So are you going to fuck me or are you too old to come twice in a row?”

He doesn't even answer, he takes your wrists and holds them still against the tree with one hand, while he slips the other one past the elastic of your shorts and into your panties.

His thick, calloused fingers slide over your folds “You’re already soaking wet” and without warning he slides his index and middle fingers into your hole while his thumb presses on your clit.

You gasp so hard and he just says “God, you’re so tight, babe” and he starts curling them up into you “How does it feel?”

“Good” you whisper “so good, Joel, I feel so full”

“Yeah baby, that’s what daddy’s fingers are made for, to fill your pussy well” his scent mixed with sweat pervades your nostrils, he lowers his face to your neck and bites your skin while he doesn't stop moving inside you.

“Fuck” you hiss. You're intoxicated by him, your head is spinning “fuck, don’t stop, please”

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

And it’s absolutely true.

Joel shouldn't say this, but you've been stuck in his head like a nail since the day you got back and you won't leave him alone.

And now that he has let go of the leash of his inhibitions, it seems impossible to stop. He no longer knows how many times he has stopped to look at you, completely sucked in, his eyes glued to the curve of your ass or the roundness of your breasts, your nipples that peeked out from the fabric of your shirt.

And he managed to remain quiet anyway, until you pushed yourself to the limit by suggesting to go for a run together. And now he's even more fucked, because he's realized that feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock, your body on his, your tits pressed against his chest and your pussy opening up to his fingers is enrapturing.

And your shitty attitude actually makes him hornier.

“Fuck” he says in a hushed tone “Gosh, babe, you’re so pretty like that, all worked up over my fingers.”

“It feels so good, Joel, so good” you whine and you can hear you heart pounding in your chest so hard, he’s tormenting you as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you “More, I want more”

“Ask nicely” his voice is firm

You look him in the eyes and you wonder why he can't be satisfied with your gaze, you're sure it’s eloquent enough at this moment.

“Please, Joel”

“What do you want, honey?”

“Your cock”

It’s incredible that you’re doing this in this park, you’re begging him to fuck you here.

In an hour at most it’ll start to fill up with people, probably even some of your neighbors who have known you forever. “Manners, babe” He bites one of your nipple through your sports bra and sucks greedily, wetting the fabric.

“Your cock - ah - please”

He lets go of your wrists and his hand comes out of your underwear, your pussy aching for a release.

He pulls down your shorts and frees his cock again, he puts your panties aside and takes his cock in his hand “spit” he orders you.

You look at him for a moment without understanding, dazed at the idea of ​​having to take his massive cock in your cunt, which is what you asked for.

He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes “wake up honey. spit on it” he repeats.

You gather some saliva in your mouth and then let it drip from your lips, letting it fall onto his cock.

“Good girl. You'd be even better if you didn't make me repeat things twice, we need to work on this”

He pushes you back against the tree and slides inside you in one go and yes, you are dripping but his intrusion still rocks you for a moment.

It burns.

He stands still and looks you in the eyes “listen, we don’t have much time princess, don’t pout like that”

“Asshole” you say under breath.

He slaps you “watch your mouth, pretty thing”

Your cheek burns and yet you’re never been so aroused by anyone before.

“Fuck. Just… fuck me, please. Please, Joel”

He grabs your ass cheeks and starts moving inside you. You try to stifle your moans but one escapes your lips “God! Please Joel, please”

“Shut up. I wish I could stuff your panties in your mouth, brat” He silences you with a kiss while you think you wish he could.

And you're so delusional that you think "next time."

He licks into your mouth while he’s pumping into you, hitting your cervix just right, again and again.

And you’re almost there.

He pulls away from your mouth to catch his breath “Joel - I think - I think I’m coming”

He’s still pumping, faster and harder.

You hold onto his shoulders and clench your fists into his shirt “Joel I’m - ah- coming”

“Yes I feel it, I feel your pussy squeezing me, you’re doing it so good, so good for me, baby.”

“Joel” you're begging him, you're so close that you feel like you've lost your mind “Joel, please”

“Come for me, baby” he finally says against your skin “come hard for me”

You’ve been waiting for his permission and now that he's given it to you you feel your whole body shudder as a devastating orgasm washes all over you.

You're quivering against his broad chest, digging your nails into his shirt, trying to moan as little as possible to avoid making yourself heard.

He holds you tight as your legs shake.

He's still inside you and starts pumping harder after giving you time to calm down a bit "where do you want me to come?" "Inside" you whisper

"Fuck, baby, seriously?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill, please Joel, please fill me up"

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, please give it to me”

“Yeah, you want it, huh? You want my cum dripping down your legs, huh?

You nod “yes, please, please Joel”

And he explodes inside you an instant later, you feel thick sticky streaks of his seed painting your walls and he’s grunting so hard.

He takes it off you and puts it back in his pants, you fix your panties and shorts as best you can and you already feel it dripping between your thighs and it's a sensation that drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like that, all sweaty and hot for me”

You smile at him, actually grateful “it was amazing”

“Come on, let's get out of here before anyone sees us”

As soon as he finishes saying this, you see a man with a dog on a leash pass by on the other side of the park.

FUCK.

You run away as fast as you can and once outside Joel stops on the sidewalk, bending over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Fuck, do you think he saw us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But you know what? I don’t care.”

“You’re such a bad girl.”

Maybe you do, but you really don’t care, you’re too happy.

[neflil]

Hearthian oc time!!! Meet Nepheline

Below the cut for more info and doodles of them :3 vv

So I caved in and made an oc. This is the first time I'm really doing something like this so hhhhh.

Nepheline, or neph, a half self insert - half oc! They're a bit younger than the Hatchling, so still considered a hatchling but almost an adult.

They like to draw, paint rocks, and explore around timber hearth a lot! They're cool with everyone and friendly, but much prefer to sit in the background and listen instead of actively talking. That is of course until someone gives them enough time and trust that they'll listen to whatever neph has to ramble about.

They're interested in all kinds of things really. The nomai, physics, the weird quantum rocks ect. Even if they're not the brightest when it comes to that, they love learning about anything when given the chance.

As soon as any of the travellers get back from space, neph rushes over to ask them about what they saw or if something cool happened. Gabbro and Riebeck especially, as neph is interested in what they have to say the most.

As much as they value the village and it's people, they also value their alone time. Sometimes disappearing for days into the quantum groove or the old mines just... Vibing really, doing whatever. They also have a small piece of a quantum rock they call a "friend", of course it disappears every time neph let's their eyes off of it, but they compare it to the travellers going away and mainly- feldspar. It's a rock that keeps them company without actually needing to have someone *there*. Along with really liking to sleep in and let their mind wander in worlds far from here, people often joke that they remind them of gabbro (the pains of making a half self insert while relating to a character hhh)

Their interests and way the explain them isn't that common, so people often turn a blind eye to them. They mostly parrot cool facts people have taught them which results in situations like "but did you know that the nomai-" "yes neph, you've told us three times already". They just want to share the stuff they know

Esker is someone who likes to listen to them! But also share their own stories. Ever since neph was young they'd hangout nicely. Now they radio eachother. Neph is old enough to join the space program but seeing and they aren't that great with more technical stuff, they are afraid. They put off actually seeing gossan and talking about this so hey.

Their scale pattern covers a big majority of their face at the front, it's a mix of lines and ovals. But when I draw them I just... Blehhh color. Also! Nepheline is named that I spired by the Greek word "nephele" which means cloud (and is also my name, hi lol). Since the rock turns cloudy when exposed/put in acid. Therefore, to somehow reference this, nephs face turns a cloud blue color when they're frustrated of angry!

Once they fell asleep in the old mine (that sounds stupid but I swear I've imagined the whole situation, there's more than that trust, might make it into a comic) and people looked for them, worried as they couldn't find them. Once they got back they got grounded to not not leave for there again- especially alone.

Neph despite everything, went back. They drew a nomai, based off the skeletons there and everything they've seen so far. To prove that they need to get off their grounding since they're doing "work". They don't really have a speciality either so yyyea

They used to be named Nephrite but merry showed me a rock named Nepheline, so I HAD to change it because well- we have the same name lmfao

(if you saw me posting this before, no you didn't)

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent. 

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship. 

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.  

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it. 

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?” 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin. 

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors. 

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it. 

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him. 

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday. 

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him. 

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.” 

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you. 

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address. 

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving. 

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside. 

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles. 

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man? 

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again. 

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response. 

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes. 

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps. 

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks. 

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions. 

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely

[thewhiskersonkittens]

Drive In

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Present Day) x Female Reader.

Summary: After unsuccessfully navigating the crazy world of online dating apps, you meet Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and agree to go to a drive-in and perhaps you have finally met your perfect match.

Warnings: Fluff, romantic, some profanity, toxic dating app horror stories.

A/N: This was requested by Anon. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

Back in the day, Maverick considered himself to be quite the Casanova. It used to be so easy, come so naturally. Maybe because thirty years ago he was a lot younger and his jet black hair wasn't fading. His body was still firm and taunt, in his line of work it was a major priority to keep in shape, but his face had become worn, the skin around his green eyes now had wrinkles.

"You're still a very good looking man," Phoenix told him when she, Coyote, Payback, Bob, and Rooster was helping him make his dating app profile.

All eyes were on her when the aviator quickly added, embarrassed:

"Respectfully speaking, of course, sir!"

The guys chuckled while Maverick tried to hold back his amusement.

Coyote let out a low whistle.

"Ooo, Phoenix got the hots for Captain." He teased.

"I do not!" Phoenix defended. "And I swear to God, if this gets back to Hangman, I'll kill you."

She shot a death glare at Coyote, that made him straighten up quick. She shot the look to all the guys meaning business.

Maverick patted Phoenix on her shoulder to assure her it was OK.

"Thank you, Phoenix. I appreciate the compliment."

He held up his phone and returned his attention back to the profile.

"Are you guys sure this is the right thing to do?"

He wrinkled his brow. The whole process seemed so unnatural to him.

"If you filled out all the questions honestly the algorithm will try to bring you the best possible matches." Bob commented.

"But the algorithm doesn't get it right 100% of the time." Payback added, looking at Maverick. 

"What do you mean?" Maverick asked.

"He means there might be a dud or two," Coyote answered.

"But still the odds are in your favor." Phoenix encouraged.

Maverick sighed as he closed the app and pocketed his phone. He was tired of thinking about it for now.

"There used to be a point in time when I could just sing to a woman in a club as a way of flirting."

"Sounds lame," Rooster finally chimed in.

Maverick gave him a pointed look.

"Lame, huh?” Maverick chuckled, the memories coming back to him. It all seemed just like yesterday but also a lifetime ago.  “Guess who was my wingman?"

***

You were two seconds away from throwing your phone across the room. You'd do it, too, not caring if it broke, the only thing was you knew how much you needed the damn thing.

Stupid dating apps. After trying a month without them, you were having zero luck dating out there "in the wild" so, reluctantly, you downloaded the toxic app again, damn well knowing it would all still be the same old bullshit. If it wasn't some fake bot, it was just the same losers over and over you matched with. You were going to pull your hair out if another dude sent "wyd?" at 11 am on a Wednesday.

You wanna know "what I'm doing?", Chad?! You thought. I'm at work at this time, that's where I am! Why aren't you doing the same?!

You didn't even want to think about how you basically had the same conversation over and over with these guys.

"Hello, beautiful baby gurrl. Good mornin!'"

"Hi, there. Good morning."

"How you sleep last night?"

"Just fine, thanks. HBU?"

"It could have been better. I'd rather be waking up next to you, babyyy."

" ... "

"Send me a pic?"

"No."

"Why not? You shy?"

"..."

" Hello?!"

*incoming unsolicited dick pic*

"You like dat? You like what you see? ;)"

" ... "

"Dat could be alll yours and more! You wanna come over later?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not? It's not like I'm gonna kill you..lol"

"...."

"Sooo...you gonna come over or...I could come over there?!"

"No. I don't even know you! I just met you five minutes ago."

"Don't waste my time! Ya know, a lot of girls like what I got. You're lucky I'm even giving you the time of day!"

"..."

"..."

"K. Go text one of them then."

" ... "

"Man, fuck you, bitch. Your loss! I didn't want your ugly ass anyway. LOL."

You sighed. Why was trying to find your person so physically and mentally taxing? Some of your friends actually had good luck on the dating apps but it was just not working out for you. You thought about all your options: keep trying the apps, try in person again, hell maybe even switch teams?! The best option was the idea of becoming an old, single, crazy cat lady. At this point, it sounded like the most peaceful choice.

You were laying on your back on your bed with one arm slung over your eyes, trying to block out all your frustrations.

Your phone next to you vibrated, signaling you had a notification.

Oh great, You thought. Can't wait to see what this one's got to say.

You picked up your phone, punched in your pass code, and opened the app.

Pleasantly surprised was an understatement! You had matched with the most handsome man you'd ever seen on any app ever.

He was definitely older, much older you were sure of it, but the age gap didn't bother you. He only had a few pictures but you saw he had dark hair, green eyes, perfectly chiseled nose and jawline.

Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, USN.

As good as he looked, you couldn't help but have reservations. Living in San Diego, you had been on a few dates with military men before. They could be just as shady as the civilian Joe Blows, if not even more. Plus, he was way too fine looking to still be single. You tried not to judge. Divorced? Widowed? Perhaps he was looking for a last minute fling before his next naval cruise?

Your phone vibrated again and you saw he sent you a message.

"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Pete Mitchell. But everyone calls me Maverick or "Mav".

"Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N." You typed back. "Cruise to any where fun lately, sailor?"

"What gave it away? The picture of me in my dress whites?"

"Not a bad picture, I must say." It was true. Technically he was old enough to be your father but he was still a smoke show. Silver fox, indeed.

"Ha, ha! Thanks. Ah, no fun cruises. I was recently called back to North Island for work."

You told him what you did for a living and you found out he was career military. A naval aviator for over thirty years. You kept chatting back and forth for the next two days and exchanged numbers. On Friday night Maverick called you.

"Look, I'll be honest with you, Y/N." Maverick explained. "This dating app thing...it's not really my style. My kids put me up to it. They said I needed to get out more and this is the way people do it nowadays. I just don't know..."

"Kids?" You repeated, slightly surprised he never mentioned it before. "You have kids?"

Maverick chuckled. "I'm sorry, I guess I should rephrase that. They're actually a squadron of Top Gun graduates I train. I call 'em my kids even though they're all about thirty-something years old."

You exhaled a sigh of relief. "Oh, I see."

"Anyway," Maverick went on. "How would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?"

You were pleasantly surprised again. Most guys you encountered on the apps were either one extreme or another. Some wanted to come over right away and others it was like pulling teeth to get them to actually take you on a real date.

"Is that OK with you?" Maverick asked.

"Oh, yeah!" You said. "Yes, that would be great! Dinner and a movie?"

"You read my mind," Maverick confirmed. "I was thinking I take you to the drive-in. They're doing an 80's movie theme night."

"Drive-in?" You repeated. You hadn't been there in ages. Maverick must have misunderstood your tone because he went to explain:

"Yeah, it's where they have a big outdoor projection screen and you pull up in your car..."

You burst out laughing.

"Pete," You started. "Come on. I know I'm younger than you but I do know what a drive-in is!"

Maverick laughed at himself.

"Sorry. Of course you do."

"That sounds like fun, Pete. Let's do it."

***

You knew you were breaking your own rules by allowing Maverick to pick you up but you felt like you could trust this man. Your jaw dropped when you saw the forest green vintage race car pull up in your driveway.

"She's a '56," Maverick explained as he helped you into the car. "She can go from zero to one seventy in about six seconds."

"Wow," You said, resting the bouquet he just gifted you in your lap. Out of curiosity, you ran your fingers along the dashboard. You'd never been in a car like this before.

Maverick started the car and began backing out.

"I usually just ride my motorcycle but this seemed more appropriate for the occasion."

You smiled. "I guess you have the need speed on the ground as well as in the air."

Maverick turned to look at you then as he shifted the car into drive and you weren't exactly sure how to describe it. It was like a mixture of surprise, curiousity, and a touch of sadness.

"Did I say something wrong?" You asked, concerned.

Maverick shook his head.

"No," He assured you. "It's just...so funny and...kind of weird you said that. 'The need for speed'. I haven't heard that in a long time. I had a friend I used to say that to. A long time ago. It was like...oh, what do you call it? Something that you and one other person knows?"

"An inside joke?" You suggested.

Maverick smiled. "Yeah," He agreed. "An inside joke."

"You don't talk to that friend anymore?" You asked.

"Oh, I do." Maverick replied. "I sure do. It's just...he's not here with us...physically anymore."

"Oh..." You realized and you felt a twinge of gulit in your stomach. This wasn't the best way to start off a date.

As if reading your mind, Maverick took one hand off the wheel and softly brushed the side of your cheek with the back of his hand. His hand felt callous, the result of decades of working on all sorts of aircraft, but it also felt strangely comforting. The feeling guilt in your stomach dissolved and felt something like butterflies replace it.

"It's OK, sweetheart," Maverick said and he really meant it.

After dinner, you two drove in the drive-in. A triple feature of John Hughes movies were playing. You and Maverick laughed when Kelly LeBrock turned Bill Paxton into a talking blob in Weird Science and cheered as Judd Nelson pumped his fist in the air at the end of The Breakfast Club. The final movie was Sixteen Candles and you couldn't help but sigh when Molly Ringwald finally got to kiss her dream guy.

"This is one of my favorite movies," You said.

"You like the romantic stuff, huh?" Maverick teased and you laughed.

"Yeah, I know it's cliche," You said. "But I can't help it. I'm such a sucker for it."

"Nothing wrong with that," Maverick told you. "Just between you and me...I'm a romantic myself."

He leaned in and kissed you and you couldn't help but smile against his lips.

When the two of you parted, your eyes fluttered open and you said:

"I know we just met but I feel so lucky to have found you. I was about ready to give up. The apps were driving me crazy."

Maverick rolled his eyes at the mention of the dating apps.

"I don't get them either," He said. "But I saw your picture and...I don't know. I just...thought you were really beautiful and I'm glad I met you, too."

You felt Maverick take your hand in his.

"If it's OK with you, would you see me again?"

You smiled and answered by kissing him again.

"Sure, I'd really love that."

[natslildove]

gif not mine

Bring you back

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: since vormir, you haven’t been in touch with any avenger, you went missing. no one knew where you were or if you were even still alive. until one day, you hear a knock on the door and a familiar face awakes something inside of you, you thought was long gone. hope.

warnings: swearing, panic attack

authors note: sorry it took me like 2 weeks.. i kind of forgot what the story was supposed to be lol. anyways !!!! hope you enjoy it ! <3

you can find the previous chapter here.

11:07 AM

You’ve been in the compound for less than an hour and you’re at Tony and Bruce’s lab, being overwhelmed with theories of how and why they think they can bring Natasha back.

But the thing is, they only have about 2 days. To be precise, 56 hours. Natasha died at 7:13 PM. That’s why is always so hard to sleep when every night around that time, your mind goes back to Vormir.

“We think that, if we find a way to get to Vormir in time, we might have a chance to stop her”, Tony said.

“Stop her? Won’t that reverse the whole ‘saving the world’ thing?”, you say while looking at the place. It’s a mess. Natasha would’ve hated.

“No, you see, time doesn’t work that way. We can’t go back in time and undo something. It would just create a different timeline, but not change ours. If we go back in time and kill Thanos, everything he’s done will still be done but, the second we kill him, another string of time would be created.”

“Says who?”

“Someone who knows about this stuff, trust me”, Bruce tries to convince you without revealing his source. You look at Tony who just makes a gesture suggesting you to ignore this part.

“So you’re saying that, basically, all we have to do is… Go to Vormir?”

“At the right time, yes”, Stark seems hopeful.

“And why don’t you just get a quinjet or something and go?”

“Because, and that’s the problem, Vormir is about 15.000 light years… We can’t get there.”

You knew it. All of this was just bullshit and suddenly you hated yourself even more for believing there might actually be a way of bringing her back. You try processing what Bruce just said and it’s like the whole universe is laughing at you for being so stupid. How could you. You were fine. Or at least you tried to believe you were. She’s dead. She is dead. Natasha is dead. Your girlfriend is dead. Girlfriend. God, you couldn’t even propose to her, the ring long forgotten somewhere in the locked room. This is all so stupid. You’re so stupid and your girlfriend is dead and you never even get to call her your fiancé or wife or nothing. Nothing. She was nothing now. You’re not even a widow, you’re just nothing. You’re no one and you have no one. You’re alone. It should’ve been you. Not her. She was perfect, she deserved to live. She deserved to win. She should be here.

“Woah, hey! Y/N! Hey, what happened?” Tony is holding your face between his hands and you just now realize you were crying. Bawling. You heart was beating so fast you felt like throwing up.

Fucking panic attacks.

You couldn’t speak, your eyes going back and forth but never really looking at the man in front of you. You shake your head and dries your tears with the back of your hands with a certain strength. You whole face is red and Tony and Bruce are giving you pitiful looks.

God, you hated this. So much.

“I’m fine, it’s fine” you take a deep breath, “Just keep going… How- Is there a way to get there or not?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can-“

“I’m fine!”, you cut Bruce, “I’m fine, okay? Just answer me”

“Uhm, there might be a way”

“Stop with this might this might that. Just fucking say it already”

“You know Carol? Captain Marvel, Space chick, blonde and tall?”

“I know of her”

“She got her powers from the Tesseract”, Tony continues, “And now, she can fly trough galaxies like, super fast!“

“So we need her?”

“Not exactly”, this time, Bruce says, “Carol is really, really far away, not even with all her powers she could get there in time. We can’t even reach her”, the scientist looks at you, “We need the Tesseract”

“To create a machine?”

“To hit someone with it”, Tony says while cleaning his throat. You barely even listened.

“What? Are you- Are you serious?”

“It could work”

“It could kill someone! This Carol chick only survived because she was half Kratos or something!”

“Kree, and yeah, maybe, but”, the sortear guy keeps trying to convince you, “It worked! All we need is someone willing to do it. Without risk tests and all the regular procedures we are legally required to do”

Oh. A lab rat. They needed a lab rat dumb enough to sacrifice their life’s for a maybe.

Maybe the person will die. Maybe the whole compound would explode. Maybe it wouldn’t even do nothing.

Maybe they’d get Natasha back.

“I’ll do it”

“Yeah, we know Romeo”, Tony smiles. Bruce walks fast to a closet, opening and grabbing a suit.

“We made from your old measures but…”, Banner looks at you up and down and you feel embarrassed and exposed, “We might need to tighten a little bit”

Ouch, what a way to call you malnourished.

12:33 - 55 hours and 20 minutes until Vormir

Bruce was still measuring you in the lab and it was quiet. You knew he had questions but you were grateful he didn’t asked them.

Yelena enters the place holding a bag os chips and a bottle of water. She doesn’t say anything just gives it to you.

“Eat. And drink it”

“I’m not really hungry”

“I literally did not asked anything”, she opens the bag while still in your hands and grabs some chips, “Natasha will hate to see you like this”, she smiles, “I can picture her complaining about your habits”’ now she laughs, “I mean, when she sees your house she will freak out! You killed all her plants! The place is a mess”

“You’ve only seen the outside”

“Sure”

“What do you mean, ‘sure’?”

“I mean…”, she steals more chips, “Sure”

You get this weird feeling that she’s been visiting you without you realizing it. It says a lot about you.

When Yelena stops rambling about her sister, that’s when you realize you’ve eaten some chips. Basically the whole bag, per se.

“You talk as if you’re sure this will work”, now you’re drinking the water. Yelena is smiling not only because of the conversation.

“Someone has to, right?”

Yeah. Someone has to.

1049 words.

taglist: @fxckmiup @janashstorm @smromanoff @natsxwife @makkaroni221 @marvelogic @thelonewriter247 @lizzeolsenismommy @g-athenaathens ( tumblr just won’t let me tag u idk why i’m sorry :(( )

[ahungeringknife]

slightly new and improved Writeblr intro

About me

I'm bb (bibi, and BB are fine but not Bb, that's a writing signature not mine), 30+, queer, she/they, and I like to write.

My fave genres are fantasy, scifi, and romance. Sometimes with historical fiction and slice of life thrown in too.

I have a probably unhealthy amount of OCs and I want all of them to kiss.

I write both fanfic and original stuff.

I mostly post my own writing, writeblr games, and posts that give me crazy OC thoughts to be tagged. I don't reblog a lot of writing advice or self deprecating writer posts because honestly? Couldn't be me.

I did a HUGE writing challenge this year that was an attempt to write 365 1-shots. One a day. I failed but that's okay. I wrote like 200 of them and that's great and I'm proud of myself.

This is a side blog. I follow from @xaz-fr

I love asks and tumblr messages. I do writeblr games but I could really use some writeblr friends to tag in the ones I do get :,D

I'd love to look at your stuff. You should def show me your writing in a reply or reblog :3

Main tags (that aren't WIPs)

#365 - the big year long project. It has some original stuff, and some fanfic. Lots of adult themes. Lots of original spooky stuff. Lots of 'horror and love are the same thing actually'. Things that are Very Adult are posted on AO3 with a link.

#Fey Alliance - catch all tag for my main setting, the Fey Alliance

#rattling - headcanons, world building, story thoughts, character questions, commentary. Mostly any original posts that aren't writing.

WIPs

The Zealous Servant - Dark high fantasy with lots of magic, necromancers, gods, and political drama. The main character Spayar needs to help his friend the crown prince kill the entire royal family before they turn around and do the same to him in order to claim the throne. Very queer, and is written for an adult audience not YA.

Entropy - My main fanfic WIP from the Destiny 2 fandom. Follows my OCs on their journey to bully the fuck out of Shin Malphur; resident Worst Guy Ever. Along the way he gets a hot girlfriend and I force him to have some actual friends because his lone wolf shtick is tired and stupid lol.

Lonos [working title] - This is a backburner one I need to really hash out a bit more. So I'll probably be posting a lot of rattlings about this one. Vaguely middle eastern appearance in setting about a traveling circus where all the players are also mercenaries for hire. Post a massive plague that wiped out almost all the magic users on the continent and the ones that are still around are viewed as cursed or unclean. (I swear I had this idea before the panny :,D) Gonna be a big long gay slow burn. For adult audiences.

Witchbane - Another backburner one I need to churn out some rattlings about. Steampunk set in a country called Ravthica where everyone thinks magic isn't real. When Spencer's parents go missing he's got to start believing in magic real quick when the hag that lives on his family's property tells him witches kidnapped his parents and the only way to get them back is to kill them. But witch hunting isn't exactly easy and he needs the help of some Wild things to find the witches that want his family and their witch hunting dogs all dead. For YA audiences.

[myg-butterfly]

Goodnight (Love)

Jimin x Reader – Spy!Au

Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff, Enemies(?)/Lovers(?), Non-Idol Au, One-Shot

Part 2

Summary: You and Jimin hold an unwavering grudge against each other, but for what reason? Or, when you and Jimin get partnered for a case together, emotions arise, and so do the stakes. Pride and vulnerability are an explosive pair; will you both set each other off into flames?

Warnings (Buckle up folks because there's a lot): THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF HARASSMENT AND IMPLICATIONS OF S/A!!! DO NOT READ IF THOSE TOPICS ARE TOO HARSH FOR YOU!!! Angst, panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of violence (like a single fight), sexual assault (no non-con sex happens i swear), misogyny if you squint, Jimin is an asshole at times, trauma, trauma flashbacks, horrible communication tbh, implied abuse, implied s/a

Disclaimers: I am in no way, shape, or form trying to romanticize these sensitive topics, I simply want to show that comfort can be found after said situations. Please do not leave any comments about glamorizing any of the topic.

A/N: Hello hi author here! I haven't thoroughly proof read this oopsies but we'll get there when we get there. There's a lot of time-skips in this btw, and I also just made shit up because I don't really have any clue as to what spies or agents do or whatever (lol)

Taglist: @screamertannie

main masterlist

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

"This mission is risky, as it's heavily reliant on precision and strategy, so we'll have to be very careful with who we send."

"I have the perfect pair in mind."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

"You're fucking kidding me."

Jimin stares in disbelief at his bosses, Seokjin and Namjoon, not knowing why they thought it would be a good idea to partner you together.

"I don't care whatever personal vendetta y'all have against each other, you both are the most reliable option we have. So put your willy-nillies aside and get your head in the game."

Namjoon shoots Jin a disapproving glare at his choice of words.

"Please never say willy-nilly again."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

You never thought it was possible for so much tension to fit inside a singular car, yet you and Jimin seemed to be breaking that record currently:

"Listen, I want to get this done as soon as possible, so please just listen to me and do what I tell you and I can finally stay away from your annoying ass."

"As long as you listen to me as well, it'll be a smooth sail."

"And why do I have to listen to you?"

"We listen to each other, it's called teamwork; hence the fact that we're a team, and we work tog-"

"I know what teamwork is – I'm not stupid. But I specialize in retrieving information, so I think we both know who has sufficient knowledge to lead this case."

"One of the requirements to be recruited is being able to safely retrieve information, so technically even though I'm not centered in the encryption department, we still have the same level of expertise in the field of-"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"I do."

"Great well do that now."

"If it means you stop running your mouth as well then I will."

It isn't that Jimin hates you specifically, he just hates how stoic you are all of the time. No matter what case you had to take on, what was going on around you, your cold demeanor never faltered — and that pissed Jimin off.

I mean, who were you to be so stand-offish to all of your colleagues? Did you think you were better than everyone else? Is that why you never spoke up unless you were giving your 2 cents on the approach the organization should take on the case given. And it pissed him off even more how you were always right, how Namjoon and Jin always agreed with whatever you had to say.

Jimin didn't hate you specifically, but he hated your face and how nice it was to look at and your annoyingly smart brain and your voice that was so soothing to listen to.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

"Jimin, I'm telling you, having me go undercover isn't safe or efficient. The man who has the information we need is kno-"

"Are you admitting that you don't have the guts to complete this mission? What happened to commitment?"

Strategizing with Jimin felt like being a court trial where anything and everything you said would be used against you.

"I am committed. That's why I'm telling you that this isn't a good strategy."

"And why not? We've used it countless times before and it's worked, what's different now? All those men are the same, just play them to your will. Is that really so hard for you to do?"

"It's not good because it's not safe. Chances are that not only will I walk out of there severely injured, but you will too. And what happens then?"

"All I'm hearing is that you're too scared to do it. If that's the case, then why don't you just go home? I can even go ahead and call Jin hyung and tell him that you chickened out-"

"I am not chickening out."

"Then just trust my plan, princess. It's never failed me, and it's not going to start now."

"....... Fine. But don't call me that."

"No can do, princess."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

As you walk into the large fancy venue where the event was being held, the urge to run and hide became much more prominent.

You doubt that he remembers you, you were small when it happened, and now you'd grown.

That should bring some form of comfort, but it doesn't.

Because even if he doesn't recognize you, you would never be able to forget those months.

What he did changed you as a person forever, and for the worse as well.

You walk tentatively, saying hello to people you come across, until you find who you're looking for.

Upon seeing his face, it felt like a kick had just impacted your gut, like if you were dumped into a freezing lake with nothing on. Your mouth dried and the room began to spin, and you almost ran away, almost cowered back to safety, but you were stopped by-

"Dumbass, he's right there all by himself. Approach him, quick."

Hesitantly you started your way towards him.

"Jimin, turn my earpiece's mic sensitivity up."

"Why?"

"Please, I need you to be able to catch anything."

"Fine."

Seeing he was grabbing a glass of wine by himself, you took the opportunity to slide in next to him.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you happen to know what kind of wine this might be?"

"Cherry wine, madam. Would you like to try one?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"It's no problem. If you don't mind me asking, is someone accompanying you tonight?"

"Oh, no. I'm here by myself. I got invited by mutual friends."

"Ah, I see. So then, you wouldn't mind joining me tonight? I have a table right over there if you'd like to sit."

"I'd love to join you. Please, lead the way."

After some brief moments of small talk, Jimin gives you the okay to start trying to pull information out of him.

"This venue is so lovely, I wish I could see all of it in full." You started prying. "Well, actually, one of my closest partners runs the venue, if you'd like I could ask him if it's okay for me to give you a tour?"

"Would you really?"

"Of course, anything for such a delightful woman as yourself."

"Oh, you're too kind."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

The tour was going well as good as your given position allowed. You managed to ask about almost each room, giving Jimin any helpful information through your earpiece.

That was until you got to the third floor.

You were trying as hard as you could to push through being in his presence, when you'd been going up the stairs you stumbled for a second, and his hand reached out to "stabilize" you. You managed to regain your balance, still his wrinkled hand remained on the small of your back, a little lower than appropriate, and that was all it took to push you to the edge.

"Um, excuse me, do you mind if we pause for a short while so I can use the restroom?"

"That's totally okay. Do you want me to lead you to the one on this floor?"

"Oh, no. Thank you, I'll use the one from the previous floor. You can wait for me here. I won't be long."

Running down the stairs quickly, your head began to spin with fear.

All of the haunting memories you'd managed to drown out in the deepest parts of your brain resurfaced within a flash, and suddenly its like if you were back where you were less than two years ago.

Rough hands around your waist, liquor scented breath hitting your face, the cold air biting your exposed skin – you remembered it so vividly that you could almost feel it happening to you.

You could feel the harsh tone of voice, taunting you, painting you with shame.

'You should be thankful for all that I do for you. I'm the only person that can stand you after all.'

"Why the hell are you going to the bathroom? Don't stall, you idiot. We need to get this done."

"Right. Yeah. Right."

You stood up and walked towards the door, but you couldn't bring yourself to twist the doorknob. The thought of having to continue with him had your breathing quickening, and your vision shaking, it was all too much at once.

All Jimin could hear was your shallow breathing, and strangely, he found himself growing worried.

"Y/N? What's going on?"

"I can't- I can't do it-"

"What do you mean?"

"I- I need to get out of here."

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I can't be here, please Jimin."

Jimin burrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what caused you to get so worked up. He was even more confused when he felt himself progressively getting more concerned for your well-being.

"Where are you right now?"

“Um, a bathroom in floor 2."

"And you told the guy to stay in the third floor, right?"

"Yeah." You hear Jimin sigh, and you know he's upset with you, but your brain can't fully process that right now.

"I can't believe you're actually pussying out of this right now."

"Jimin, please."

The crack in your voice left an uncomfortable buzz in his chest, and Jimin found himself caving in.

"Okay, fine. I'll find a distraction for him so you can leave while he's busy. Only because we stil have tomorrow to do this and we've made progress."

"Thank you-"

"Don't, we still have to get this shit done tomorrow."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

You thought you'd be relieved as you finally got the chance to run out of the building, but guilt was heavy on your chest. The sound of Jimin's frustrated voice made you uneasy; you've never really been on his good side, but hearing him sound so disappointed in you drilled a hole into your pride.

He watches you as you open the car door and clumsily jump in, and Jimin can't stop his frown from deepening further when he sees your usually sparkly eyes tainted a light color of red, one that matches your nose and cheeks. You take his expression as one of disapproval, and you shrink in your seat, hoping that it'll swallow you whole. You were triggered as it is, an angry Jimin would not help you whatsoever.

Obviously, the only thing he could come up with was to scold you, because what else was he supposed to do? Wipe away your tears gently and destroy anything that would cause those tears to resurface? Yeah, of course not. Not that he wouldn't be willing to if you asked him, but he'll try to convince himself it's only because he's a good person. No ulterior motive.

"This better be a one time thing, eh? No one wants to work with someone unreliable, and leaving was one hell of a liability."

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

The words got stuck in your throat; you couldn't tell him that this guy had abused you for years on end of your adolesence. You refused to let anyone see that side of you.

"It wasn't safe, and it wasn't worth risking it."

"I didn't see any threats in the security cameras, and everything in your earpiece sounded fine. What was unsafe?"A tentative moment of silence passes before:

"Him."

You spoke so softly that you thought Jimin hadn't heard you, until you heard a sigh from him.

"We work with dangerous people all the time, there's no difference here, princess."

The name had clear condecendicy laced within it, and it made the sting in your eyes return quickly; it reminded you of him, and now the memories were fresh. You turned your face out the window, hoping that Jimin didn't catch sight of them.

But he did, and great. What else is he supposed do? to destroy himself then? Being harsh is supposed to be what keeps you from getting hurt by him, so why is that no matter what he does, the outcome is always rough?

The rest of the car ride was silent, the emptyness of nightfall very clear amongst the dark.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

"Will you stop moving so goddamn much? Some of us are trying to sleep here."

"Why are you referring to yourself with plurality? The only ones here are you and I, and your comment is directed at me so-"

"It's too late for your smartass."

"Well, it's currently 1 in the morning, so technically-"

"Less talking more sleeping."

"Okay."

You'd stopped moving, and Jimin was about to completely pass out, when the shuffling started again.

"Y/N I swear to god-" he groaned, annoyed that you interrupted his sleep again.

But when he looked over, you were sitting up on your bed, a pained expression covering your face.

Jimin sighed and sat up as well, mumbling under his breath about how 'it's always something with you'. Still he asked:

"What happened now?"

You hesitated to answer before responding.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Send me in there, knowing who he is?”

"I genuinely don't have a clue of what you're talking about."

"I knew you hated me but I really didn't think you would go to such lengths."

"Stop speaking in riddles and just say whatever it is you want to say."

"Do you really not know about him?"

"Stop acting like you know better than I do just because you know about some rando that I've never heard of."

"I'm not trying to act like I know better, because I do know better. I know who we're up against, and I know that Seokjin and Namjoon would agree that sending me in there by myself is a shit decision."

"Why would they give us the case then if it's so dangerous, huh? Maybe you're just too much of a scaredy-cat to handle this case. Why don't you go and whine to our bosses that the task is 'too hard' if you're so set on them agreeing with you?"

Jimin's words felt like a stab straight through your heart, and all you could do was bleed out in silence.

"If I were them, I'd be real disappointed if someone I handpicked for a job as prestigious as this one called me and told me they didn't wanna do it because it's too hard."

The mention of disappointing your bosses made your stomach twist with anxiety. Just when you'd begun to learn to protect yourself, you're suddenly getting berated for it?

"Do you want me to complete this task or not?"

"Of course I fucking do. That's why I'm telling you that you need to suck it up."

"Degradation isn't going to motivate me, so you can stop trying to make me feel like shit. Are you happy? Because it sure is working."

"See? This is what I mean. For someone who acts so stoic all the time you sure are goddamn sensitive."

"Jimin, please. Drop it. I get it. You win."

"Stop whin- wait, what?"

You blinked at Jimin, before sighing and laying back down, shuffling around and throwing a blanket over your head.

For some reason, this made his heart twist in an uncomfortable way.

Jimin took a deep breath and told himself that it definitely wasn't because he felt like crying at seeing your defeated expression, he was just shocked that you didn't continue arguing with him.

Yeah. That's what it is. Totally what it is.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

Day 2 of the event begins, and your fear is drowned out enough to tolerate it by your desperation to get this over with.

"Okay, he's in there. Go. No chickening out this time, okay?"

"Yes. Whatever."

"Good."

You find him standing by the small bar they have across the venue, and you muster up any remaining strength inside yourself as you begin to approach the man who haunts your every move.

"What kind of wine are you honoring tonight?" You use the same conversation starter as last time, and the guy jumps; you caught him off-guard.

"Oh, my dear, it's you. I am so glad we meet again." His smirk grew, and if you didn't know any better, you would think that it's one of excitement rather than perversion.

"So am I."

"I was afraid you'd pulled a classic Cinderella on me after that first night, I thought I wouldn't see you again."

"Oh, I apologize for leaving so abruptly. Something I ate gave me a stomach bug, and I decided it'd be best to go rest before it could get worse. I'm just thankful it cleared up before the event ended."

"I am deeply grateful as well, I don't think I could've bared to not see you again. Say, why don't we actually complete our tour around the venue tonight."

"That would be lovely."

You had always hated how snobby rich people spoke, as if everything was fancy and business. The formalities and outdated vocabulary made you irrationally angry, and you weren't sure how much longer you were going to withstand this entire thing.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

Thankfully, you lasted a pretty good while. Everything seemed to be going as planned; you asked questions, he blabbered on and on about whatever you asked, he got more comfortable and started spilling more and more, and Jimin got more information.

“This floor is my favorite.” He says once you finish taking the flight of stairs you were just on.

“Oh, really? May I ask why?”

“My personal room is up here, it's supposed to be a guest room but since I spend my days here frequently, it's practically become my bedroom.”

“That sounds very comfortable. The people who own this place seem to show genuine hospitality.”

“They indeed do. And I was thinking, maybe I could follow in their steps, and extend that hospitality to you?”

“What does this said hospitality consist of?” You were skeptical, the glint in his eyes was evidently one that was ready to strike knives into your chest.

“Reconnection. Mending broken bonds. Making up for all our time lost.”

Your heart began beating rapid and panicked, afraid of what implications come with his statement. He seems to notice your expression fall, as he starts to laugh and even doubles over. Once he composes himself, he immediately makes his way towards you, the change in demeanor too quick to even respond.

"You really thought I wouldn't recognize you doll? Hmm?" He circles around you slowly.

It feels like you've fallen through a sink hole into the midst of hell hearing his words, it's suffocating, so much so that you're sure you won't make it out in one piece this time around.

"To be fair, you have changed a lot. You look much more mature, womanhood has treated you well." It takes everything in you to not break as he grabs your chin between his fingers, Jimin's voice playing on repeat in your head - 'no chickening out this time'.

You swallow and take a second to compose yourself, before speaking again.

"May we please continue our tour?"

"No need to hide from me, little one. I'd always told you, you'd come running back to me one day; and here you are. No need to be embarrassed about it, I'm more than happy to have you again."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

Jimin's blood runs cold when he hears what the man is saying; did you know him before? What history could you possibly have with this man?

"I'm n- not hiding. I just simply wish to continue looking around."

"Oh, trust me, dear. We'll have plenty of time to look around. But first, don't you wanna go somewhere private? So we can, reconnect?"

A shiver runs down your spine out of pure fear, and you're not sure if you can back down this time.

"Um, I don't know. I don't want to be gone for too long."

"No one will notice dear." He leans in closer to your face. "I know you want this just as much as I do."

His suggestive tone has you feeling sick to your stomach, and you pray to whoever sits above that Jimin realizes what's happening and comes to help you. You aren't sure what you had ever done to turn the universe against you, but you knew your prayers weren't heard when Jimin responds through your earpiece.

"Go. If you're worried about anything getting out of hand, I have this planned out. Just go."

You didn't know what plan Jimin had up his sleeve, but his annoyed expression on your face were imprinted in your mind, his words from the previous night still heavy: ‘If I were them, I'd be real disappointed if someone I handpicked for a job as prestigious as this one called me and told me they didn't wanna do it because it's too hard.’

"Okay, take me with you."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

He leads you to up another set of stairs, and into different hallways, before stopping in front of two big doors. You watch as he takes a key out of the inside pocket in his coat, and he opens the door, letting you step inside first and following after you. The room was spacious and slightly dark, the only light entering through the window from the lights outside.

"Ask him what part of the building you guys are in."

"This room is beautiful, what part of the building are we in?"

“It is quite luxurious, huh? This is the fifth floor. Main hallway, 3rd door. If you ever want to pay a visit, you're more than welcome to stop by.”

Jimin quickly jots down the room, and you hope he's satisfied, because you're shaken with fear at this man’s words. He locks the door from the inside, and proceeds to move toward you.

"He has a key, right?"

"Ah, yes." Pause. "I'll keep that in mind."

He smiles at you and grabs your wrist, walking towards the large bed in the middle of the room.

"Okay, get his key. Do whatever it takes, just get your hands on it."

He sits on the bed and grabs you by the hips, pulling you down with him.

"I can't believe I have you all for myself again. Even if its just tonight." You feel his fingers in your hair; the thought of shaving your head crosses your mind. If it means getting rid of any trace of him, you'd do it.

"Your features may be a little more grown, but you're still that innocent little sweetheart that I've always known."

His face seems so close; your body falls cold with fear.

"Tell me, how much have you missed me, sweetheart?"

He gets scoots even closer and cups your cheeks, running a thumb over your lips. He gets even closer, and all you can do is swallow and curse Jimin, because why isn't he doing anything to help you?

"I thought you would've learned to use your words by now." He chuckles, you wait for a hand across your cheek.

"Stupid little girl. Aren't you glad I'm so forgiving?"

He leans closer again, your foreheads touching at this point.

"I'll let you show me with your actions. Come on, show me."

Your breath hitches in dread, but he takes this a good sign. He kisses you and you do your best to "kiss" him back without actually doing any kissing. You tug on his coat, hoping he gets the message to take it off, and thankfully – you're not sure this is the right word – he does. As he shrugs it off, he keeps kissing you, and you take the chance to grab it from the inside, and flip it around so the key falls into your lap. You quickly put the key in your dress pockets and you toss the coat across the room in attempt to mask it as a move of interest.

He notices that his coat is gone, and it prompts him to begin trying to remove your corset. You realize that this is your chance to communicate with Jimin, though you're not sure if he can hear you if the silence from his side is anything to go by, while also prompting the man to get off of you.

"I've got it."

"You got the key?" So Jimin can hear you. You don't know if what fills your gut is relief or anger.

"Let me do it." He grips your hands and puts them aside, continuing to undo it himself.

"Yeah." You respond to Jimin. Pause. "I've got it, its fine. It'll be faster this way."

"Okay, we'll get him distracted now." Once again, you're torn between relief and anger.

"Don't you wanna take it slow? Enjoy our sweet time together?" His lips on your neck, and his hands getting lower and lower. You start to cry. Thankfully, he doesn't notice, because the intercom system im the building blares: "The auction is about to begin, 5 to auction." Hearing this, you take your chance to push him away, trying to get yourself back together.

"We should go, we wouldn't want to miss this." You move to get up, but he locks you within his arms.

"It's okay, you're the one thing I want."

"People will notice that we're missing."

"They won't. And if they do, let them. I'm more than glad to show you off."

He keeps on untying your corset, and panic starts to flow more prominently through your body as you realize that he isn't going to let this go easily.

"I really think we should go back. What if we miss something important?"

"Shhhh. Let this happen."

Another announcement blares through the intercom, but he doesn't even flinch this time.

"Auction is now beginning."

"Let's stop. I don't want to miss it."

He doesn't stop.

Doesn't even do a double take.

"If you want something from the auction, I'll get it for you. I'll even pay double the price. But I'm not letting anything take this away from me. I've been waiting to feel you for years. I'm not letting you go now."

You're on the border of cracking as he gets lower on the strings of your corset, not sure if you're gonna be able to get out of this unharmed. He moves to suck on your neck, and that's when you break.

"I don't, I don't want to."

"You're just nervous. I know you want this."

You shake your head, your whole body is visibly trembling now.

"I don't want to."

"Be good and stop talking."

He finally gets to the last string when his phone rings behind him.

He ignores it.

You pry him on.

"Are you not gonna take that?"

"Nothing is going to interrupt this."

"What if it's important?"

"What did I say? Be quiet. Why is it that now you're all chatter, but when I asked you earlier, not even a peep? It's like you want me to punish you."

A sob escapes you; where the fuck is Jimin?

He takes your corset off, leaving you almost bare.

"Such a pretty little thing."

All you can think is that 'This is it. This is it. What did I do to have to go through this again? Why is it tha-"

"I'm on my way up. I'll be there in a moment. I'm sorry I didn't come earlier. I'm coming."

You let out another sob at this.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

Jimin feels like his heart flew out from his chest because of how hard it was pounding.

He's desperate to get you out of there, and Jimin didn't know what to do.

His original plan to get the man distracted by random interruptions wasn't working, and he knew going up there on his own was risky, but listening to your situation made him sick.

He knew one of the guys on his usual team, Yeonjun, was monitoring the assignment, as they always have someone on standby in chances of emergency.

With his mind made up, he lets him know that he's gonna go in, but he isn't too fond of the idea.

"No, Yeonjun. You don't get it. I have to go up. He's- he's hurting her."

"You'll get caught. Especially if you and Y/N leave together."

"I have to go."

"Jimin-"

"Sorry, I have to get to her."

The line disconnects.

He was coming now.

Getting to you was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

You can't bare to watch as the man takes his own shirt off, and you feel like you could throw up at any moment.

"I'm on the fifth floor. Toss the key under the door if you can."

At this, your only string of thought consisted of 'Jimin's here' 'Toss the key' 'Jimin's here' 'Toss the key'

You quickly reach into your pockets and let the key drop by your feet, and you kick it so it's by the door. An eternity of seconds pass by, your brain simply chanting 'Jimin, Jimin, Jimin'

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even have time to process what's happening before Jimin tackles the old man. He punches and pounds, and all you can do is watch in horror as both men begin to swing at each other. You have no clue what to do, but thankfully, Jimin manages to catch him off-guard and injects him with a tranquilizer.

It's strong enough to paralyze him on the ground, but simultaneously doesn't knock him unconscious.

You run to put your shirt on and rush to look for the flash drive that's meant to have all the information you're looking for. Despite your frantic state, you miraculously find it in a drawer, relieved and ready to show Jimin.

But when you turn around, he's still on top of the man, beating him like a crazed man.

"You. Fucking. Bastard. How. Dare. You. Touch. Her. I will fucking kill you." He says in between punches.

He kicks, stomps, punches, even pulls out his blade, and he doesn't stop until he feels you tug from behind him, hearing your attempts to hold back sobs from escaping you.

Even as you're trembling, you hold up the small flash drive in your hand.

Jimin stares in shock for a few seconds, confused as to how you still went to look for the files even with the state you're in.

He looks back at the man on the floor, bloodied and now unconscious.

You wouldn't be surprised if Jimin beat him to death.

A pause of silence engulfs both of you, before he interrupts it.

"Let's go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Let's go. We'll talk later. Come on."

You moved to step towards the door, but you were filled with such panic that your legs were giving out on you.

He stepped towards you, but you recoiled.

He knew that this reaction was to be expected, but it still felt like a flame was burning his chest seeing you jump away from him, looking absolutely terrified.

You stumbled and wobbled, but you were insistent on walking on your own.

Jimin respected your boundaries, but when you almost tumbled down the stairs, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Do you want me to carry you back to the car? It'll get us out of here quicker, you're gonna hurt yourself .”

He saw your facial expressions change multiple times in that short moment before you stepped toward him and let him lift you off the ground. You were tense, any touch making your head spin but feeling how securely Jimin is holding you, you can't help but loosen up a tiny bit.

Feeling you shake in his grasp, it hit Jimin like a bag of bricks; you had been one of his victims. That's why you told him that it wasn't safe for you.

How could he have missed this?

You'd been brought back to hell after finally escaping it, and it was Jimin himself that dropped you right back into the gates of it. Maybe if he had listened to you when you said it wasn't a good idea, maybe you wouldn't be shutting down right in front of his own eyes, wouldn't be shaking uncontrollably, wouldn't be face to face with a monster you were to never see again.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

In the car, you can't stop clawing at yourself in the passenger seat, unsure of how to get rid of all the anger and anxiety in you.

Jimin kept peeking from your eyes and back to the road, and for some reason, this made you angry; not in a scream and throw things way, but in a sob angry tears with harsh breaths until you pass out way.

“What did it cost you to listen to me? Your pride? Is your pride worth the touch of that monstrosity?"

"I'm sorry."

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

You get to the hotel and rip the dress off of you, wiping your lips and scrubbing your hands furiously, you pull your hair in desperation.

Everything feels so wrong and overbearing, it feels like its the end of the world.

Jimin feels like his world is crumbling at the same time that you are.

He goes to make you some tea, anything that will make you feel even the tiniest bit better. Seeing you in so much distress left only 2 things swirling around his head.

The first one being: He would, in fact, do anything to take back everything he's said, and to protect you from any harm that may come your way.

The second: He is so emotionally constipated.

Instead of letting himself understand and acknowledge what he feels for you, he put up a big fucking barrier, and now he’s responsible for your breaking point. Maybe if he could've been honest with himself, maybe if he had been gentler with you–

Well, there's no point in dwelling over it now, so instead he approaches you and removes your hands from your head to stop you from pulling your hair.

"Y/N? You're gonna hurt yourself."

"I don't care." You try to pull your hands away, but Jimin clasps them against his own.

"I made you some tea, it's in the nightstand by your bed. Go drink it while I put on a bath for you. And grab clothes once you're done."

You weren't sure what it was, anger? Gratefulness? Appreciation? Resentment? But something was coursing through your veins, and it all was clearly directed at Jimin. Feeling frustrated and confused, you broke down into sobs once more.

"We don't have to do anything, but I think getting washed up will help you feel better. Whatever you wanna do. Just, please don't cry, I don't like it when you cry.”

You look up and find Jimin crouching in front of you; his stare so soft that you think he might actually care. You can't help it – you launch yourself towards Jimin, neither of you are sure if it's an attempt at a hug or at knocking him down.

He wraps his arms around you and you begin to hit at his chest, your frustration and hurt showing themselves.

"Why didn't you listen to me?! I didn't want to tell you! You should've just listened to me! Then I wouldn't be hurt! It hurts, Jimin. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts."

You repeat that phrase over and over again until your breakdown begins to falter into hiccups, energy gone, and you melt into Jimin's embrace. The room is suddenly still, the only existing thing being you and Jimin on the floor, crying out hurt and apologies.

When he clutches so hard onto your shirt that his knuckles turn white, you know that he didn't mean to do it on purpose, that he's genuinely sorry for how things went down. And when you hug him back and shuffle closer to him, he knows you're willing to forgive him, you don't blame him for the decisions he made.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

Things feel fuzzy after that. Not necessarily in a bad way, there's just too much delicacy in the air for you to process things properly.

The cup of tea is warm in your hands as you wait for Jimin to finish filling up the bathtub.

After some quiet moments, he walks out of the bathroom and throws an apologetic smile your way.

"You're all set. I'll be out here, shout if you need anything."

"Okay."

You do think initially that a bath will help you relax, maybe get rid of some of the squeezing tension in your muscles, but it becomes clear that your mind won't be able to handle something as simple as undressing and getting into the tub.

Marks brokenly painted across your skin catching your stare, you needed to be forced out of it.

Even as you slowly climbed into the tub and sat down, the only thing running through your head was the image of your scarred form.

You cry out Jimin's name.

"Is everything okay?"

You beg the words to leave your tongue.

"Stay. Please."

Your voice is small and tired, and his heart jumps in a mix of adoration and pain, because you are ever so lovely, but you're hurt, and you're hurt because of him and his pride.

"Okay. I'll stay."

He takes a seat on the closed toilet, and you stare at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to ask for the support you need.

"I- can y- my hair."

Finally, it comes out strangled, but it comes.

"What about your hair?"

Jimin moves closer when you fuss a little at his question, splashing the water while doing so.

You rake your hands through your hair aggressively, and he thinks he understands what you're trying to say.

"Do you want me to help you wash it?"

Your face visibly softens – similarly to Jimin's heart – and you let out a little sound of confirmation.

"Okay, are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, pass me the bottle."

The warm water is soothing on your scalp and you feel yourself relaxing as soon as the shampoo touches your head.

“Sorry if I pull your hair.”

When you feel Jimin’s fingers raking across your hair, you start to cry again.

The way he gently rubs your hair makes you overwhelmed with a warm feeling that fills your chest at being handled so tenderly for the first time in so long.

"Love, why are you crying?"

If Jimin was already panicked at your tears, he’s utterly mortified now that the term of affection slipped out accidentally.

Thankfully, it seems like you're too caught up in enjoying the feeling to notice what he just called you.

“Thank you.”

His hand movements stopped for a second to think about his next words before resuming with a sigh.

"Don't thank me. I fucked up so bad. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I should've just listened to you. I'm so sorry."

Jimin's voice cracked, and it looked like he was going to start crying too.

Once he was done, he went to grab a towel, and you stopped him by putting a hand on top of his.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"I'm still really sorry. You shouldn't have gone through any of that."

You simply hummed as a response, and you both knew that it meant forgiveness.

The moment felt so soft, soft in the way you were looking at each other, soft like the butterflies in your stomach, it was all just really, really soft.

∘⁺✧◞₊⋅✱

That didn't last too long though, because sleep has never come easy to you, and the events of this day only worsened it.

Every time you closed your eyes, his sickening face would appear in front of you. You could almost feel the way he gripped onto your skin, bruising it.

You could feel yourself falling into a panic spiral again, and your brain's first instinct for whatever reason was 'where's Jimin?’

You sat up and saw him fast asleep on his bed, and you grew hesitant.

What if he gets mad that you woke him up? What if he laughs at you? He's gonna tell you to toughen up.

But then you think back to how he's acted ever since he went to get you.

That wasn't just temporary, right? Was it just pity? Was he only nice to relieve himself of any guilt?

Your overthinking mixed with your already panicked state, and you once again felt like things were crumbling all around you.

You showed Jimin your weakest parts, he can surely use that against you. He probably thinks you're even more pathetic now. He's gonna tell everyon-

"Y/N? What's going on?"

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't realize how loud your sobs had gotten, nor that they'd woken Jimin up.

You looked up in horror as you realized that he was sitting on your bed, watching you cry.

The concerned look in his eyes only made you cry harder. You wanted to fall into his comfort, wanted to believe that he genuinely cared about you, but at the same time you were convinced that he was just pretending.

"Don't act like you care."

“Huh?”

"I know you're only being nice to me out of pity, you can drop the act now."

Your words came out broken and between sobs. After you finished your sentence your breathing quickened again.

Jimin felt his heart being shredded into pieces as he saw your state. Did you really think that he hated you?

He could deal with that later, right now his main priority was getting your breathing regulated.

"Come here, we're gonna breathe together, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You were hesitant to approach him, but the offer of closeness was too inviting for you to turn down.

Jimin waited until you were seated directly in front of him before continuing.

"Hands on your belly. Now breathe in, and out."

It took a while before you were breathing again, but now Jimin could tackle the second issue at hand.

“What can I do to help you?”

Jimin sees the distrust on your face at his words and his chest squeezes sadly.

"I'm not doing this to get rid of guilt or anything like that, if that's what's running through your head."

“How do I- know that you're not just saying that to say it?"

Oh what Jimin wouldn't do to hand you the world.

"If I genuinely didn't care I wouldn't be here right now. You'd know if I was lying."

You think to yourself before giving into his offer with a small nod. Jimin smiles at your response.

“Do you need a distraction? Comfort? Water?”

“I think– I think comfort.”

"Okay. Do you want cuddles?"

Your brain short circuited, and Jimin took your silence as discomfort, so he rambled on.

"When I was younger, if I was ever scared of something, my mom would cuddle me and it always made me feel better. If you're not comfortable that's fine, I just think it would help."

You took a second to digest what Jimin had just asked you, never in a million years imagining you'd hear him asking you that, before nodding your head.

"Okay then, come here." Jimin laid down facing you and opened his arms expectantly, so you scooted closer to him and let him embrace you.

There's an inexplicable safety you felt surrounding him that had you melting into his hold. For the second time that day, his fingers gently played with your hair and you felt your walls come down a little further, warmth encasing both of you.

"You're so warm."

"Fuck do you think I am, a reptile? Of course l'm warm."

You scoffed at Jimin’s words, but stayed snuggled into him nonetheless.

"Are you uncomfortable?" You asked him.

"No. I'll let you in on a little secret of mine. I love cuddles. But only from specific people. But don't tell anyone.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips at his words, and Jimin decides that it's now his new favorite sound.

You pull back so you and Jimin are eye to eye; you want to speak but words are hard to convey.

“What's on your mind?” He's attentive, eyes searching yours for any hurt or worry.

“Do you cuddle with all your mission partners?” You try to lighten the mood and he laughs, so you assume it worked.

“No, only with the ones I like.”

His voice is soft when he says this, and it makes you melt a bit more.

“I really did think you hated me at one point.”

“I never did, I'm just very emotionally constipated. In all honesty I really do admire you, but I forced myself to see you as competition to avoid any of the weird emotional shit. Looks like it didn't work.” He finishes his sentence with a bitter chuckle; shame evident in his voice.

“I mean, I wasn't really all that nice to you either.” You try to easy his guilt.

“I wish we would've gotten off on the right foot.”

“Me too. But what's done is done.”

“I'm really sorry for not listening to you. I thought you were saying all of those things just to mess with me, but now I realize how stupid my logic sounds. Hearing what was happening over your microphone had me sick to my stomach. I can't even imagine how it must've felt for you.”

“It felt like my world was ending, honestly.” Your voice is quiet, but not enough to conceal how it cracks while tears pool in your eyes again.

“I never thought I would see him again. I'm still so scared, Jimin.” You begin to hiccup sobs, and he wastes no time in pulling you closer.

“It's okay. He's never coming near you again. I promise. You're safe, okay?” Jimin's voice was soft, feeling the way his chest vibrates against your head that's now tucked under it only helped calm you further.

You both remain like this until you've completely stopped crying and relaxed in his arms. Everything around you felt warm and tender, lulling you into deep sleep.

The last thing your brain manages to process is a soft kiss on your forehead, and words that sound a lot like:

“Goodnight, love.”

[berberriescorner]

"Gimme Some"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: You know what they say, “sharing is caring,” and Rio wants a taste 👅.

Warnings: Cursing, daddy kink, and smut sprinkled throughout the story🙈😈. This a lil freaky, y’all🤷🏾‍♀️.

Word Count: 1,800+.

A/N: I Ate one blow pop, and my mind went straight into kink mode😆! It’s my birthday, so to celebrate, I’m finally posting something for all my sweet mutuals💓. Please excuse any grammatical errors.

Checking your phone for the third time in a row, you exhaled. You waited patiently for Rio to come home. He had called earlier that day, letting you know he’d have some free time tonight. Your mind replayed the conversation.

“Going to be a light business day, sweetheart. I’m coming home early tonight. Just give me a couple of hours. Get your beautiful ass ready. Put on that little dress I like. I’m taking you to dinner, mama.”

Rio had chuckled at the giddiness in your voice. Spontaneous date nights were one of the many things you loved about him. Growing impatient, you shot him a quick text.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Papaaa, how much longer are you going to be?

Wifey: I’m leaving in a few minutes.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Bruh, it’s going to be forever before we get to our reservation😩🙄. I know your pretty boy ass will still need to shower and change once you get here.

Wifey: Of course! You know I got to put that shit on for my wife. Chill, It won’t take that long. You getting hangry, my baby?

Husbae😘🙈♥️: You swear you know me so well😒. Just hurry up, please😏.

Wifey: I knew my good girl didn’t forget her manners.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Rio.

Wifey: Chill, mama, lol. I’m on my way home to you now.

Rio had been right about one thing. You were starving and regretting the choice to skip breakfast. Then there was the stupid idea to work through lunch. Now here you were, stomach growling obnoxiously loud. You knew there was no use in searching for a snack. The busy week you’d been having kept you from restocking the pantry. Glancing at your handbag on the coffee table, you rifled through it. Pulling a blow pop from an inner pocket, you ripped the plastic off, tossing it aside. Tastebuds sprang to life as your mouth wrapped around the watermelon-flavored treat. You enjoyed the blow pop and scrolled through TikTok.

Twenty minutes passed before you heard the front door unlock. Keying in the pin to the alarm, Rio headed to the living room in search of you. You could smell his cologne before he entered the room. Feeling his presence, you spoke without looking up from your phone.

“Hi, baby.”

Your head tilted so he could pepper you with kisses on the cheek. He buried his face against your neck and inhaled his favorite scent on you. Rio groaned, sliding his tongue across the flesh. He finished with a playful bite, leaving a slight indentation.

“You smell good enough to eat, mama. I see this dress is hugging all those curves as usual.”

Still scrolling through your phone, you giggled and thanked him. He rolled his eyes, noticing you were on TikTok.

“You need to leave that social media shit alone, baby. That can turn into an addiction.”

“Relax, father, I’m just occupying myself until you’re ready to leave. Go shower and get ready, papa. I’d advise you to feed me as soon as possible. You know I’ll catch a full-blown attitude if you don’t. This sucker will only curb my appetite for so long,” she sassed with a mouthful of blow pop.

“Always talking with a mouth full,” he responded.

His eyes twinkled with mischief. Your brain registered what he meant, and your eyes darted to him.

“You never seem to mind,” you smirked, refocusing on the phone screen.

Just as he was about to shower, his phone interrupted him. Rio took a seat on the couch across from you. His attention focused on whatever business associate was on the other end of the line. That was until he glanced over at you. He was thrown off by how sensual you looked eating the lollipop. He was blown away by your cluelessness. You sat there unaware of the explicit image you were painting for him.

There’s no way she doesn’t know how this is affecting me. Mama ‘bout to have my shit standing at attention. She better stop playing with me. Mess around and bend her ass over this couch.

Rio was no longer interested in what the associate on the other end of the line had to say. He made an excuse rushing the blubbering idiot off the phone. Putting his phone on the coffee table, Rio leaned back against the couch cushions. Still admiring the view, his hands rested in his lap as he watched you silently. Hearing him end the call, you directed your attention toward him. His gaze fixated on you. That crooked grin you loved so much made an appearance. Rio couldn’t pull his sight away from your lips as he cleared his throat to speak. His words dripped with desire, “that sucker must be good, mama. You sure are giving it the business.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he continued to watch you.

Rio’s words dripped with flirtation and innuendo, putting you on notice. Now that you were privy to the sexual tension in the room, you decided to play with him.  

“You know, I much prefer tootsie pops over these,” you explained in an innocent tone. 

Rio chuckled at your faux innocence. Your eyelashes fluttered as your teeth sank into your bottom lip, telling him everything he needed to know. His lips formed a slight grin as he responded, “is that right, mama? Why is that,” he questioned, as his words dripped with desire.

Rio leaned closer to you as his eyes focused on your full lips. The sight of them made him crave you. His vision then settled on your face. Rio’s brown orbs drank you in as he licked his lips. The hunger in his eyes caused you to falter for a moment.

Don’t fumble the bag bitch! Answer his sexy ass. You’re supposed to be seducing him, not the other way around.

Pushing all inner thoughts aside, with closed eyes and your lips wrapped around the sweet treat. You moaned and sucked at the lollipop with vigor. A suction-like sound fell from your lips as Rio groaned and repositioned himself. You did not doubt that he was growing hard inside his pants. Hearing that beautiful sound fall from his delicious mouth made your lids flutter open. He could see the deviousness in your eyes. Releasing the sucker from your lips created a slight popping noise, and a devilish grin danced across your face. The lust in your boyfriend's eyes was undeniable.

“Answer my question, mama,” he demanded, voice sounding smooth and velvety deep.

The baritone of his voice caused you to shiver and squeeze your thighs together. 

“With tootsie pops, you can swallow everything, daddy,” you purred as you slid the blow pop back into your mouth.

Rio’s eyes traveled to your mouth again as his head nodded a few times. Hearing those words fall from your lips caused his thick member to twitch inside his jeans as he released a low growl. His hands slid down his lap and to his knees as he leaned forward to speak.

“You enjoy swallowing, don’t you, mama?”

“Mmhmm, and you enjoy watching, don’t you? Mmm, this is just so delicious. Want a taste, papa?”

You released the sucker from your mouth, tilting the blow pop in his direction. Biting his lip, your husband gave another head nod. Your eyes followed every movement he made. You had expected him to suckle the treat, but Rio caught you off guard. A gasp escaped you as his hands grasped both sides of your face pulling you to him, faces only inches apart. He closed what little space was left, licking and sucking the remnants of blow pop from your glossy pout. A couple of seconds ticked by before his tongue found its way inside. You didn’t fight for dominance over the hungry kiss, wanting to be his good girl. It was obvious that Rio was running the show and beating you at your own game. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. Still close enough to feel his breath against your panting mouth, another lopsided grin graced his face. Rio’s eyes bore into yours as one of his hands slid down your torso. He caressed your stomach and trailed his digits to your thigh, where he fisted the thin fabric of your dress. With one firm yank, he pulled the hem of your dress high enough to slip a hand underneath. You cried out as he ran a finger through your folds, going just a little deeper to lightly tease your clit.

“Now, how’d I know my pussy would be bare, mama,” he asked rhetorically.

You were too busy moving your hips against his fingers and whimpering to respond. Rio acted as if he were about to kiss you again but moved away from your eager lips to tease you. He chuckled as you kissed your teeth.

“You want another kiss, darlin’? C’mere.”

He licked and nibbled at your mouth but pulled back, still in a teasing mood. You wanted to scold him, but your breath caught in your throat. Rio bowed his head low enough to pull the sucker into his mouth, sliding it to the left to bury it in his left cheek. Both were shocked that you had managed to hold onto it the entire time. He enjoyed it as his fingers started to dip inside and play with you again.

“Look at me, baby. Keep your eyes on me while I play with you. Damn, mama. You were right this pus-. My bad, mama. I got distracted with thoughts of my favorite meal. I meant to say this blow pop is good as fuck. You taste better, though.”

His fingers started to piston into you hard and fast. It wasn’t long before you cried his name. The orgasm erupted within as you creamed his fingers and shook violently.

“Rio, daddy! Oh, fuck.”

“Did that feel good, baby? Hmm? Shhh, relax. Come down off that high for me, sweetheart.”

You came back down to earth your eyes slowly opened, meeting the lust-filled twinkling orbs of your husband. Rio was grinning cockily, still sucking the lollipop.

His hand slid from your essence as he husked, “since we’re sharing and all, open up.” Licking Rio’s fingers clean caused him to release a low growl.

“Thank you for sharing with me, baby. I didn’t forget about you popping your shit earlier. Talking about tootsie pops and how you can swallow everything. Come, love. Let’s get you fed. Daddy’s got something special for you. Let me feed it to you in the shower. Need you to get on your knees and show me the same love you were giving this blow pop.” he rasped.

I hope you enjoyed the read, my lovelies! Please be sure to reblog, love, and comment. Feedback is greatly appreciated🥹♥️!

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

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